Imagine this: the disciples, after an exhilarating and exhausting day on the mountainside watching Jesus feed the five thousand, are set on a boat and told to row to shore, going ahead of Jesus because he wanted to pray alone. The wind rises on the sea of Galilee, and the plashing of the oars becomes more and more desperate. Desperate to get to shore, to rest after their long day, instead they find themselves battling a high wind, deep into the night.

Their limbs are sore, muscles aching from the strain, eyelids battered by the sting of salt and barely seeing into the gale. The water rises, spilling into the boat with each lash, and for all their fatigue they soldier on, because it would be death to stop. All night they row, and a fevered dawn seems to approach, and still the storm is relentless.

How often I feel this is a portrait of myself: so utterly overwhelmed, yet still battling forces that seem inhuman, inexhaustible. Times when it seems the only thing between me and ruin is the continued strain of my muscles, that heroic effort to keep my head above water, just for another second, another second, another second…

But then Jesus looks at the disciples and in his eyes the wind suddenly drops to a nothing, like a special effect in some low budget movie. All he sees are twelve struggling men, doing their very best on their own, constrained by time and their bodies, flailing at the task he had set them. And he walks out -

Picture this, Jesus, walking towards the boat from behind, as the disciples plow the sea with their oars. Jesus, swiftly overtaking them with nothing but his two feet. Jesus, appearing in the peripheral vision of the sweating disciples like some water-borne ghost, cutting through the wind with such ease. This is the very picture of human endeavor, the straining of the will, the mind, the body, against trials that He could just step over. Which his feet cut cleanly through, because his power is over and above the very fabric of the universe. And the fact that our solid, wind-and-big-wave problems, are just so little compared to his power, is still so astounding that, even right after a most spectacular miracle over the laws of nature, it still comes as a surprise.

Because Jesus is so fantastic, even after he has touched us we refuse to believe. Moments after he has helped us out of the greatest trials, comforted us with his huge compassion, fed us with bread pulled from thin air, we still can’t wrap our heads round him. We still bolt like frightened animals when he appears, more willing to believe in the solidity of the wind, the solidity of the waves, than in the solidity of his bright body, overtaking us with compassion. And Jesus is kind, knowing our poor hardened hearts so well, he tells us not to be afraid.

Afraid! Yes, we are afraid of Jesus, afraid that his salvation is more difficult to bear than the storm, which at least we know how to fight against. He does not come to rebuke them for their unbelief, but instead simply to get into their boat. And the sea snaps out of the storm and is calm. And the disciples are astonished.

No, we do not understand the loaves.

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Postscript: There is also a poem version of this.

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I.  For by works of the law no flesh will be justified in his sight, since through the law comes knowledge of sin.

So knowledge of sin prevents my justification.  How?

II.  I would not have known what it is to covet if the law had not said, “You shall not covet.”  But sin, seizing an opportunity through the commandment, produced in me all kinds of covetousness.

An example to explain a phenomenon.  The commandment teaches the object of prohibition; sin creates the desire for it.  Thus I see it forbidden, and its forbidden character renders it irresistible.  There is no escape: to increase the prohibition is to increase the desire; to decrease the prohibition is to count lightly the covenant of law.  Therefore-

III.  Apart from the law, sin lies dead.  I was once alive apart from the law, but when the commandment came, sin came alive and I died.

Though I am alive, yet I am dead because of sin, because of the law.  This is life in the flesh, under the law.  For what reason this dying life?

IV.  It was sin, producing death in me through what is good, in order that sin might be shown to be sin, and through the commandment might become sinful beyond measure.

And again-

V.  But the Scripture imprisoned everything under sin, so that the promise by faith in Jesus Christ might be given to those who believe.

Thus it was desirable for sin to be shown to be sin, for sin to become utterly sinful.  This was a condition for the possibility of the fulfillment by faith in Jesus Christ of the promise to Abraham.  How then this fulfillment by faith?

VI.  Or do you not know, brothers – for I am speaking to those who know the law – that the law is binding on a person only as long as he live?

If I die, I will be free of the law, the commandment that created for me this living death.  Moreover-

VII.  Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death?

So by faith I enter into Christ Jesus in fulfillment of the promise, and when I so enter I die and am released from the law.

VIII.  But now we are released from the law, having died to that which held us captive, so that we serve not under the old written code but in the new life of the Spirit.

Having died, we are no longer under the law.  We do not ask, “Is it permissible?”  For to think in terms of permissibility is to return to the very beginning, to the condition of being under the law.

What then?

IX.  The commandments “You shall not commit adultery, You shall not murder, You shall not steal, You shall not covet,” and any other commandment, are summed up in this word: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”  Love does not wrong to a neighbor; therefore love is the fulfilling of the law.

There are no commandments; all is swallowed up in love; and the law is fulfilled.  So-

X.  “All things are lawful for me.”

Ask not therefore, “Is it permissible?” but rather “Is it love?”  This is the beginning and the end of the New Covenant.

Obviously, I used to say, a sane man accepts or rejects any statement, not because he wants or does not want to, but because the evidence seems to him good or bad. If he were mistaken about the goodness or badness of the evidence, that would not mean he was a bad man, but only that he was not very clever. And if he thought the evidence bad but tried to force himself to believe in spite of it, that would be merely stupid. Well, I think I still take that view… I am not asking anyone to accept Christianity if his best reasoning tells him that the weight of evidence is against it. That is not the point at which faith comes in.

Many Christians, however, do not appreciate Lewis’ distinction here. Faith, being defined as being “certain of what we do not see,” (cf. Hebrews 11:1) has become synonymous “without evidence” or even “despite the evidence.” The latter – belief despite evidence to the contrary, in other words, irrational faith – is one of the many features that has made Christianity particularly nauseating to the modern academic world.

I experienced an academic challenge to my faith last semester, when I decided to take the class “History of Ancient Christianity.” My professor asserted that several of the Pauline letters were not actually written by Paul, and he provided arguments for these claims. Having been a Christian for less than 9 months, I am not well-versed enough to justify why his arguments were wrong or why Paul really did write every letter. I realized that this was an area in which I would need faith.

Yet my faith was not in spite of the evidence – my faith was that I would find the answers eventually and that a later dating for the letters did not shake my belief in God or in Christ. I also knew that there must be some arguments for what I believed, even if I didn’t know what those arguments were, for there are many Christians smarter and wiser than me whom have grappled with these same criticism. I decided to have patience by deferring an in-depth analysis until the semester ended and I would have time to thoroughly review the evidence from both sides.

The Disconfirmation Model - in flow chart form!

Basically, I needed to give myself a little more time to overcome what is known in psychology as disconfirmation bias. Research has shown that one applies a stricter standard to evidence which undermines one’s pre-existing beliefs or may even reject it outright. Now this is a useful thing to do, considering that we generally have good reasons for our pre-existing beliefs. For example, I know from experience that our editor-in-chief is a pretty stand-up gentleman. If someone else told me that they saw him engaging in a brawl in the back-alleys of Cambridge, I would assume that they mistook him for someone else rather than doubt his good nature. However, disconfirmation bias can become a problem when we start excluding too much information. If more people came to me and I had numerous reports which tarnished his character, it would be reasonable for me to question whether or not he truly is upstanding citizen.

Christians can have an extreme form of disconfirmation bias when it comes to issues remotely related to faith. They continue to believe in creationism or biblical inerrancy despite strong evidence against them. When challenged, they simply reject the contrary assertions without searching for any information to respond to the challenge or to justify their original belief. This is particularly troubling since many Christians believe in large part because they were raised to have faith. They may go their whole lives without finding real evidence to justify the kernel of truth that forms their faith. Thus, their faith becomes dogmatic and contrary to reason.

Disconfirmation bias is a reasonable way to discern between good and bad information in most circumstances, but when we take it so far as to reject all evidence in favor of our original beliefs, we trap ourselves in an adolescent faith and lose the ability to claim that our position is reasonable. This is the sort of dogmatism that aggravates the academic establishment and our more Enlightenment-minded friends. I can’t blame them. It is incredibly intellectually dishonest to reject criticism instead of actually engaging it.

Such intellectual dishonesty can only lead to cognitive dissonance – the state of holding contradictory beliefs. In the example of my class, if I agreed that my professor’s arguments against Pauline authorship made sense, but rejected the conclusion that Paul didn’t write them, I would resign myself to an untenable position. I avoided this position by disagreeing on his methodology for dating the books. I needed a minimal level of engagement with the issue to recognize that I didn’t find his methodology compelling and to avoid a full state of cognitive dissonance.

Yet even this level of engagement could not end my cognitive dissonance without further research – without understanding why there was another, better methodology for determining Pauline authorship and dating. Sometimes there won’t always be an answer; I don’t think I’ve found an incredibly good solution to the problem yet. But engaging an intellectual problem in Christianity doesn’t always mean coming to a clear decision on it. It may simply mean understanding why the problem exists and why the answer is unclear. Taking this step allows us to demonstrate that reason favors neither side – that both positions require some faith.

In this case, we may not have fully overcome our disconfirmation bias, but we have at least garnered a decent rational justification for our beliefs. Christians are not the only ones susceptible to disconfirmation bias or cognitive dissonance. I’ve talked to many atheists – and I once was an atheist – who suffered from both. But atheists do not have to worry if Christians are not compelled by their arguments, they can simply think Christians foolish. As Christians, however, we must put forth our best possible arguments for the sake of our Lord. In my next posts, I’ll be taking a deeper look at both the effect of intellectual dishonest on evangelism and the personal importance of overcoming cognitive dissonance.

American Christians have a pernicious tendency to characterize faith as belief without evidence or reason.  Of course Christian faith isn’t about believing things without evidence or reason.  If it were, Christians would be mad – pitiful, dangerous, and incurable.  Christian faith is about trusting God.  It’s about believing His Word.  It’s about living out His commandments.  And there are good reasons for trusting God and believing His Word and living out His commandments.

2.  Christianity isn’t about politics.

Christianity Isn't About This

Christian faith is relevant to politics; Christian faith ought to inform all our political decisions; nevertheless, Christian faith is not about politics. There is no such thing as a Christian ballot.  The unhealthy marriage of Christianity and politics has resulted in the identification of Christianity with specific economic and diplomatic agendas.  In turn, arguments against these “Christian” agendas are perceived as arguments against Christianity itself.  The whole cycle is destructive of a truly Christian approach to political questions.

3.  Christianity isn’t about culture.

Going to church is a fantastic thing for Christians to do.  But Christianity isn’t about going to church.  Christianity especially isn’t about going to church in order to placate one’s family or expand one’s friend group or make business connections.  Christianity isn’t about coffee hour.  Christianity isn’t about contemporary worship or traditional liturgy.  Christianity isn’t about having a white suburban family.  Christianity isn’t about brunch.

4.  Christianity isn’t about ‘family values’.

Perhaps there are distinctly Christian perspectives on abortion, homosexuality, and fornication.  But the implications of a worldview for practical ethics are not to be confused with the worldview itself.  When we represent ‘family values’ as the heart of our faith, we lose sight of the life-changing power of the gospel of God.  No one was ever converted by a lecture on family values.  Paradoxically, by driving people away from the Church via our constant ‘family values’ rhetoric, we actually prevent them from trusting in Christ, the only One powerful enough to transform hearts and create healthy families.

5.  Christianity isn’t about getting rich.

That it has been represented as such is one of the most abject, humiliating, and ridiculous heresies ever to slither its way into the history of the Church.

Christianity is about Jesus Christ, the Messiah of Israel, the culmination of God’s saving plan for the world.  Christianity is about the redemption of mankind through the blood of a perfect sacrifice and the ushering in of a perfect new creation in the Church.  Christianity is about love and passion and sacrifice; light and salt and hope; the weight of glory.  Christianity is about falling at the foot of the cross in reverence and complete submission.  We allow our eyes to drift from the man hanging there at our own peril.

Many are the questions raised by the Bishop of Perth, and without simple answers.  Indeed, so great is their difficulty and so deep are the disputative trenches surrounding them that it becomes tempting to shy away from the issue entirely.  ‘Let the Australians have their fun – heresy can’t walk on water.’  ‘Leave the reactionaries alone – they don’t listen to reason and they won’t listen to you.’  But the issue will not be sidestepped.  It speaks too much to our misgivings about how to live scripturally in the modern world.  It cuts too close to the trembling heart of the fragmented universal Church.

My aim in this post is not to argue for any particular position regarding the proper status of women in the church.  I have neither the background nor the confidence to do that.   Instead, I want to generate discussion on this topic, which has manifestly been bubbling at the back of Ichthusian minds for quite some time now.  And I want to generate discussion in a particular sort of way – by framing the question clearly and setting out what will count as a good answer.  I expect with hope that my efforts here will result in a more fruitful subsequent discussion.

Left: Kay Goldsworthy, Bishop of Perth, first female Bishop in the Anglican Church of Australia.

What exactly are we asking about when we ask about women in the Church?  This is not a straightforward question; almost everyone, it seems, thinks we are asking about something different.  Some people want to talk about whether women should be ordained.  Others want to talk about whether they should hold positions of Church leadership at all.  Some only want to talk about what the Bible says.  Others only want to talk about what seems reasonable today.  All too often when we approach this issue, we fail to realize that our answers are answers to different questions.   A failure of such magnitude has fatal implications for real communication.

To resolve this problem, I would like to suggest that discussion be limited to the following question specifically:

At this time, should women be permitted to preside over the Holy Communion?

It is easy to see how an answer to this question will imply answers to most other questions one might have about women in the Church.

Next, we must consider what would count as a good answer to this question.  I propose three important criteria:

1. Exegesis:  A complete answer to the question of women in the Church will provide a thorough argument concerning what the Bible says about women in the Church.  It will not be enough merely to posit an interpretation of the Biblical text – the interpretation must be grounded in sound linguistic reasoning.

2.  Hermeneutics:  A complete answer to the question of women in the Church will further include an explanation of how we are to take our knowledge of what the Bible says and translate it into constraints on present action.  Moreover, it will include a justification of why this particular hermeneutical method should be adopted.

3.  Implications:  An honest answer to the question of women in the Church will take its exegetical and hermeneutical methods and apply them to other issues – most importantly the issues of slavery and homosexuality – to make clear their implications for the Christian worldview in general.

While these are technically constraints on the discussion, I hope they function together like wooden pieces joined in a tree brace; present not to restrict growth, but to point it in the most beneficial direction.

Please share your thoughts!

When I was studying the Bible and the subject of baptism came up, I asked the obvious question: “What about a Christian in a desert where there’s no water? Would God really punish someone with eternal damnation because He put them in a situation in which baptism wasn’t possible?” When the subject of obeying God’s commands comes up, it is easy to ask, “Well, what about illiterate Christians in the Middle Ages who had to rely on others to relay the commands? What if a priest didn’t tell them about a certain command and so they sinned unknowingly?” When the subject of belief in Jesus Christ comes up, we always ask, “Well, what about natives living in the middle of the Amazon who have never heard of Jesus Christ and never been exposed to a Bible?” Most people do not want to believe in a God who is cruel enough to eternally damn these people.

Apparently baptism in the desert really isn't all that hard...

Following the natural conclusion from these questions, it would seem that baptism isn’t necessary, repentance and obeying God’s commands isn’t necessary, and belief in Jesus Christ isn’t necessary for salvation. All of a sudden, we’ve gotten a “Get Out of Jail Free” card. If none of these things is required to go to heaven, then we can basically do whatever we want and still be saved! We’ve made a rule for ourselves based upon the exceptions for others.

This process is dangerous and deceptive; using  questions and arguments to determine salvation forces us to rely too heavily upon human logic and reasoning. Colossians 2:8 warns us, “See to it that no one takes you captive through hollow and deceptive philosophy, which depends on human tradition and the basic principles of this world rather than on Christ.”

Instead, we are to rely on what the Bible tells us is true. In Mark 16:16, Jesus says, “Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved, but whoever does not believe will be condemned,” suggesting that baptism is an important part of salvation. In Luke 13:3, Jesus says, “unless you repent, you too will all perish.” Repentance is defined as “to turn from sin and dedicate oneself to the amendment of one’s life,” in other words, where we have sinned, we have to deliberately change our behavior to be in line with God’s commands to prevent ourselves from perishing. In Romans 10:9, Paul tells us, “if you confess with your mouth, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved,” asserting that belief in Jesus is necessary to go to heaven. Clearly, baptism, repentance, and belief are all prerequisites for salvation. That is not to say that, in any way, these three things make us earn salvation, but that God’s grace is conditional upon our fulfilling these three things.

Of course, many people are unwilling to be devoted to a God who seems so unjust as to punish people for unfortunate circumstances that He allowed them to experience. It’s important to remember, however, everything that the Bible tells about God. Psalm 19:9 declares, “The ordinances of the LORD are sure and altogether righteous.” Deuteronomy 4:31 says, “For the LORD your God is a merciful God.” Psalm 103:8 tels us, “The LORD is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love.” We know that God is just, merciful, gracious, and loving.

Is it possible that God would allow exceptions for particular people? I believe that it is, for God knows everyone’s circumstances and would not judge people unjustly. However, the exceptions that God may provide in certain situations should not become the defining rule for salvation, particularly in our own circumstances. If we are willing to accept that God judges people based on their particular situation, then we should be willing to accept that he will judge us based on our situation.

The question is no longer, “what does person x have to do to be saved,” but “what must I do to be saved?” Based on the fact that we have access to water, access to all the commands of God in the Bible, and access to all the historical evidence necessary to believe in Jesus Christ, what does God command us to do? We are blessed with all of these things. We must remember: “To whom much is given, much will be required.”

Often, organized religion is perceived as stifling personal spirituality. Yet what could be more spiritual than a room full of people – filled to the brim with the sound of their hearts and their breaths and their sighs – all praying together to the Lord? What could be more moving than being surrounded by ten or a hundred or a thousand souls who share the same purpose as you?

Combining prayers with others is powerful. In Matthew 18:20, Jesus says, “For where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them.” How much greater, then, is the presence of Jesus in a gathering of two or three hundred Christians!

Of course, we cannot only connect to God when we gather together. Jesus tells us in Matthew 22:37-38, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment.” The essence of spirituality is developing that emotional connection with God. We must develop that spiritual connection with personal prayer and study.

Jesus himself was extremely spiritual, and as Christians, we are to follow His example. Luke 5:16 says that He “often withdrew to lonely places and prayed.” The New Testament is full of examples of Jesus’ praying (Mark 1:35, Mark 6:46, Luke 9:18, etc).  He gives a good guideline of how to pray in Matthew 6:9, but he also gives us examples of prayer in John 17 and John 11:41-42. Obviously, prayer is very important. No amount of going to church can fulfill our need for personal prayer.

Though beautiful, this is not the Church.

Yet going to church can often help us with our prayers. If our prayers are becoming dry, we can seek advice and help more easily. When we gather, we can practice prayers with an entire church instead of solely alone before God. If we are struggling with something difficult, we can ask others in the congregation to pray for us. James 5:16 tells us, “Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective.” It is very hard to confess and pray for one another when we are not gathering as an organized body.

The word “church” in Greek is εκκλεσια, which would be better translated as “assembly.” Organized religion is merely an easy way to assemble those who believe. Frequently, we forget that the Church is not a building, but the body of believers. Paul reminds us in 1 Corinthians 3:9, “You are God’s field, God’s building.” Acts 17:24 states, “The God who made the world and everything in it is the Lord of heaven and earth and does not live in temples built by hands.” We know that we are the Lord’s temple and that His spirit dwells in us and in our fellow Christians. We cannot eliminate an entire aspect of spirituality by cutting ourselves off from the Holy Spirit’s presence in other people.

In Matthew 12:49-50, Jesus points to his disciples and says, “Here are my mother and my brothers. For whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother.” Christians are more than just friends or neighbors. They are our family!

I’m an only child, so I can’t always appreciate what it means to treat someone like a brother or a sister, but I’ve been blessed with over six aunts and uncles living within a five-mile radius of my house. My family gets together, if not once a week, at least once every few weeks. Yet my family is not unified on much more than our lineage and our love for food. How much more often, then, should I meet with my family in Christ, who share my belief in my redeemer?

My cousin is currently living with my parents and me because our house is close to his university (renting from us is less expensive and he gets to enjoy my mother’s cooking). This has given me a whole new experience, as I get a better idea of what it means to have a brother. He and I look out for each other. We call each other to make sure that everything is okay if the other person isn’t home yet. We make each other meals. Just last week, I gave him a hair cut! If this is what I do for my blood relatives, then how much more should I do for those in my church, my brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, in Jesus Christ?

It can be hard, in this world of many broken families, to understand how we should interact with each other. Yet if the Church is our family, then we shouldn’t just attend on Sundays for the sermon and leave right away. We should bond and get to know our brothers and sisters in Christ, and we should not abandon them when we are frustrated by church politics or practices. It should be as difficult for us to abandon our church as it would be for us to abandon our siblings. Although the occasional fighting and bickering is to be expected among family, we cannot let that divide us. For just as our earthly parents expect us to reconcile and erase the lines drawn down the room, our heavenly Father asks us to be reconciled to our brothers (Matthew 5:24).

Yet too often, Christians abandon their faith because of disagreements in the church. They turn to empty spirituality instead of working through problems within the body of believers. When they do this, they lose out on the full spirituality that can be appreciated in a church. They lose a body of support to help rekindle their fire in prayer, they miss out on the moving of the spirit in other people, and they cut themselves off from their family. Isolated spirituality cannot provide the comfort of the Church, but the Church can build up a person’s spiritual connection to God. The decision is not between one or the other. The decision is between one or both. Which will you choose?

I have also seen the numerous fascinating frameworks into which scientists from different periods build their personal projects in order to answer the question, “Why do science?”  I want to talk about something in this vein that caught my eye recently.  It’s from Ernst Mayr‘s 1982 The Growth of Biological Thought:

“From the earliest times on man has asked questions about the origin and the meaning of the world and frequently about its purpose.  His tentative answers can be found in the myths characteristic of every culture, even the most primitive ones.  He has advanced beyond these simple beginnings in two rather different directions.  In one his ideas became formalized in religions, which proclaimed a set of dogmas, usually based on revelation.  The Western world, for instance, at the end of the Middle Ages was completely dominated by an implicit trust in the teachings of the Bible, and beyond that, by a universal belief in the supernatural.
Philosophy, and later science, is the alternative way of dealing with the mysteries of the world, although science was not strictly separated from religion in its early history.  Science confronts these mysteries with questions, with doubts, with curiosity, and with explanatory endeavors, thus with a rather different attitude than religion.”

I think it’s fair to say that this assessment of religion is representative of the general opinion of the scientific community.   That is a shame.  I have some things to say here, to the scientistic as well as the dogmatic, but first I want to give a very short analysis of the passage.

European Belief in God 2005 - This is our fault

It is a difficult thing to take issue with something like Mayr’s story of science and religion because each sentence, considered alone, is factually accurate.  We do, in fact, ask questions about the origin and meaning of the world.  Religion does, in fact, proclaim dogmas.  Science does, in fact, confront mysteries with questions and curiosity.  So in order to argue with Mayr, one must consider the shape of the text, and this is fairly clearly a dichotomy in which dogmatic religion is opposed to questioning, curious science.  The implication here (and in what follows) is, of course, that religion is a faulty and defunct attempt to do what science has so admirably done in the last five hundred years.  (As an aside, I point out that Mayr is similarly snubbing philosophy – also typical of scientists – by implying that it is the sort of thing one does if one doesn’t know how to be properly scientific.  Embarrassing?)  Now, there are many reasons why this conception of religion is unsatisfying: it erroneously assumes that science and religion aim to answer the same kinds of questions, it exaggerates the explanatory power of science, it fails to present the evolving, inquisitive, and rigorously academic side of religion, it construes religion primarily as an explanatory scheme rather than as a relationship or a way of living, etc.  These are valid points – so valid, in fact, that I see little reason to make them over again here.  Instead, I want to say two things that I feel haven’t been said enough.
First, to the scientists:  If you think religion is stupid, if you think it’s inimical to rational thought, if you think it’s defunct or comical or dangerous, say it out loud.  Don’t smooth it over with stories about the history of intellectual inquiry in the West.  Write down what you think so we can have a discussion.  Political correctness and the desire not to offend obscure the real issue and allow both sides to get away with all sorts of unclear thinking (see above).  And we’ll all find out, when you do, whether you end up sounding like Richard Dawkins.  I hope you put up more of a fight than that.

Second, to the religious, and especially (because this is the West, after all) to the Christians: This is our fault.  We have stifled innovation, clung to mistaken ideas, and persecuted dissenters for too long, and we have a post-Christian Europe and an embittered America to show for it.  We need first humility, next openness to reconciliation, and finally inquisitiveness.  If what we believe is worth believing, it is worth investigating fully and rigorously and with an eye for detail.  It is worth thinking and arguing about and, most importantly, it is worth changing our minds when we end up being wrong (ex. Ptolemaic astronomy, catastrophic geology).  We have seen the consequence of our failure.  We should be horrified at the spiritual death it has caused.  If we are to reclaim the West, we must do it with minds as well as hearts.

Too often we get caught up in being as simple as doves.  Let us not forget that we are also called to be as shrewd as serpents.

Last week, I addressed how personal spirituality cannot replace organized religion for Christians because Christianity demands that we gather together. I also discussed how dissatisfaction with a particular church or group should not make a person dissatisfied with all organized religion or with Christianity itself. Too frequently, one’s personal experiences taint our impression of the entire structure or the entire set of beliefs. Of course, the arguments I used for continuing to meet with a church are only useful for Christians. This week, I will address why spirituality is inadequate when compared to organized religion.

It is difficult to classify “spirituality,” because, as the obverse of organized religion, it is disorganized by its very nature. It is first important to note that spirituality is not inherently inconsistent with organized religion. Instead, most people simply find that organized religion hampers their sense of spirituality. I’ll deal with that issue in the final post; for now, I will focus on spirituality when separated from organized religion.

To get a picture of this sort of spirituality, I will examine the writings of some notable leaders within the New Age spiritual movement. There are three main problems that I see with spirituality:

1. It is too reliant upon the individual’s judgments.

2. It is too based upon mere feelings.

3. It steals its best points from Christianity.

Sri Chinmoy, a famous Indian spiritual leader, wrote:

“The essence of religion:

Fear God and obey God.

The quintessence of spirituality:

Love God and become another God.”

This quote, in my opinion, epitomizes many of the problems with spirituality. It falsely juxtaposes itself with religion, when it should be contrasted with “organized religion.” It presupposes that spirituality and organized religion are completely incompatible. Finally (and perhaps most distressingly), Chinmoy’s spirituality allows the individual to “become another God.”

Spirituality, which relies on our own personal discernment to find truth, essentially makes humans God-like figures. Our ability to judge must be flawless if we are to be the arbiter of what is true and what is false. I doubt that there is anyone, besides the Lord and His Son, with flawless judgment.

Now, I am a very individualistic and independent person. I don’t like to rely or even listen to others very often. Yet my personal experience has demonstrated to me throughout my life that I am frequently wrong. When I look back at the advice I gave just a few years ago, I am utterly disgusted by how terrible my advice was. I have realized that I am not a trustworthy source of truth. I will make mistakes. I will misinterpret. I will mis-advise. If there were a religion based upon my personal beliefs, it would be hypocritical, inconsistent, and utterly unappealing.

Spirituality, once separated from organized religion, frequently deteriorates in the same way. It becomes a set of religious beliefs based upon nothing more than our own personal assessments and inclinations. Spiritual people will read a lot of different sacred books from which they pick and choose their favorite points. They figure that no religion can be 100% correct. Instead of relying on a single book of truth, they piece together truths from different sources. Their belief system becomes, in essence, a personal “Book of Truth,” which consists solely of their own opinions and interpretations.

I doubt myself far too much to trust my own ability to gather and glean truths from different materials. I realize that frequently my perception of truth, especially religious or ethical truth, is not entirely dependent upon my reason and the evidence at hand, but upon my emotions, which are utterly unreliable and manipulatable. Spirituality sets up our poor judgment, which is frequently based on fickle feelings, as the sole guide for finding truth. Of course, spirituality sees no problem with relying solely upon our personal sentiments.

Neale Donald Walsch explicitly promotes this idea in his book Conversations with God, in which he states that the only authoritative way to find truth is to “listen to your feelings.” Most people would disagree with Walsch’s assertion, although they share the same implicit belief: the truth lies where their emotions tell them it does. This is exemplified by the people I mentioned in my previous post, who believe that church isn’t right for them simply because they feel dissatisfied with it.

There seems to me to be no way more flawed to find the truth than to simply listen to what my heart wants. If it were up to my heart, I would have believed a hundred contradictory things in the course of my lifetime. I would have gone from believing the Bible to be totally false, to being a red-letter Christian, to believing it was false again, to believing the entire Bible, to doubting it again, to believing in some books, but not all of them, etc. My emotions toward the Bible have been everything but constant. I do not believe for an instant that the actual truth of the Bible changed. The problem is that my emotions are terribly fickle. Having faith is largely about learning to overcome that fickleness.

Organized religion is demanding. It demands that we overcome our emotions. It demands that we deal faithfully with our doubts and questions and fears. Spirituality provides an easy way out of that process. If we don’t feel that something is true, then it’s not. If we feel that it’s right, it is! That, of course, takes away any process with which we may discern truth. Science, logic, math, economics, and history become irrelevant fields, because we shouldn’t believe what they say unless we feel that it is true. Obviously the truth of the matter is not solely dependent upon feelings, yet spirituality has little to offer besides emotion.

Of course, Christianity also has its own focus upon emotions. Many Christians will talk about having a personal, emotional relationship with God. That’s not a bad thing. Yet Christianity is about much more than feeling emotionally at one with God; it is about taking up our cross and obeying His commandments, even when – especially when – we don’t feel like obeying.

Spirituality allows people to feel the emotional connection without putting in the hard work of accepting everything that God commands in the Bible. Spirituality gleans the easiest and best aspects of Christianity by repeating concepts that come straight out of the Bible.

The Celestine Prophecy's energy fields was perhaps one of its less believable assertions. "What color is your aura?"

James Redfield’s The Celestine Prophecy begins with an “Insight” which predicts and explains the “profound sense of restlessness” which afflicts our society. It sounds to me an awful lot like Romans 8:22 – “We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time.”

According to one of the guiding characters in The Celestine Prophecy, we can achieve true romance and strong relationships by “resisting the ‘love at first sight’ feeling for a while, by learning to have Platonic relationships with members of the opposite sex.” It reminds me of 1 Timothy 2:1 – “Treat younger men as brothers, older women as mothers, and younger women as sisters, with absolute purity.”

The novel starts out with an interesting assertion: ”We are experiencing these mysterious coincidences, and even though we don’t understand them yet, we know they are real.” Most Christians don’t believe that “coincidences” are coincidences either, but the plan of the Lord taking place. The entire Bible details the process of the Lord shaping the way the world is working. Acts 17:26 tells us, “From one man he made every nation of men, that they should inhabit the whole earth; and he determined the times set for them and the exact places where they should live.” God determines where we will be and when we will get there.

The problem with spirituality like that of The Celestine Prophecy is not that all of the points it articulates as wrong. It has many truths contained within it. The problem is that what it presents as newfound recognition is actually recycled truth from Christianity. Why use the middle man? Why not skip straight to Christianity?

Unfortunately, the mistakes of organized religions such as Christianity have left a distaste in the mouths of many people. In response, they’ve essentially rejected the harder aspects Christianity while retaining some spiritual beliefs. The problem is that spirituality isn’t really a better solution. It places our own judgments and emotions on a pedestal with its only redeemable insights being stolen from Christianity. Yet it leaves people feeling a greater connection with God, which they may have never felt in organized religion.

Next week, I’m going to explain how organized religion can be spiritual and why organized religion triumphs over spirituality.

I admit that I used to be rather taken with Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster (FSM).  I regarded it as the epitome of progress and thought it a symbol of the triumph of reason over dangerous and mindless dogmatism.  In fact, the occasional titter still slips out whenever I visit the Church’s website.  But all things considered, the FSM has lost its magic and drama of late.  Whereas in days gone by I would feel a rush of pride and excitement when I heard the mention of His Noodly Appendage, today I feel nothing more than a vague sense of frustration with American atheism coupled with dread at the thought of being touched by something as distressingly moist and clammy as a Noodly Appendage would almost certainly have to be.  The purpose of this post is for me to consider what has robbed His Noodliness of his peculiar attraction.

How might we encapsulate the idea of the FSM?  In short, He is an entity with several of the properties regularly attributed to God (i.e. omnipotence, omniscience, supernaturalism) and absurd incidental properties (i.e. physical appearance).  This combination of theology with farce is a potent tool for religious satire; simply by invoking the FSM, opponents of intelligent design and indeed religion in general are often able to bring discourse to a halt, leaving opponents baffled and unable to respond.  In discussions of public education, the FSM thus serves as an effective (and, I am not afraid to say, appropriate) reminder of just how unconvincing appeals to personal belief and textual authority alone can be.  In discussions of religion in general, however, the FSM is little more than a way to make certain parts of theology appear unreasonable without actually thinking about them.

The FSM has a place in the realm of public education discourse.  If He makes a cosmology based on naïve readings of the first chapter of Genesis seem arbitrary and poorly substantiated, that is because it is.  But often the purveyors of Pastafarianism go too far with their game.  When the FSM is used to critique religion in general, His absurd incidental properties serve as little more than a red herring meant to distract the onlooker from serious theological arguments.  For example, we might consider the issue of causal interactions between supernatural entities and the natural world.  In any discussion of this topic, theists will often be heard to say that they believe that God can bring about miracles – events not in accordance with the way things usually happen.  The FSM advocate is then free to say something like, “Indeed!  I believe that the Flying Spaghetti Monster controls events through the flexion of His Noodly Appendage.”  In doing so, however, he has not actually engaged the theist’s position.  The theist makes a claim about what God can do; the atheist responds by presenting a ridiculous model of how God might do what God can do.  Because the theist was not committed to any particular model of divine interaction, he may justifiably regard his position as not having been refuted.  He may also justifiably feel indignation at the treatment he has received.  The atheist will have completely evaded the real weight of the theist’s suggestion.  Nothing is gained by the entire exchange.

I am not merely suggesting that using the FSM to critique religion should be avoided because it is unkind.  Often when serious disputes arise there is a place for constructive unkindness.  I am suggesting that it should be avoided because it is foolish.  Whereas in the case of intelligent design debates it cleverly clarifies that fact that many different and absurd cosmologies may be constructed from convictions and texts absent other criteria, in the case we have just seen it clarifies nothing.  Examples of such cases are not rare.  To dismiss a view by inventing an absurd idea, pretending it is a consequence of the view, and then proceeding by modus tollens, is a time-tested and thoroughly unpraiseworthy technique.  It was, in fact, often employed against the theory of evolution in the nineteenth century.  In an 1860 review of Darwin’s On the Origin of Species, notable detractor Samuel Wilberforce asks us why we should prefer to believe that “the favorite varieties of turnips are tending to become men.”  That this most unfortunate literary weapon has changed hands in the evolution debate is not an occasion for celebration.

I suppose that my disenchantment with the Church of the FSM stems from my awareness that what could be a humorous and convincing farce has been deployed in such a disingenuous and counterproductive way.  I hope that the purveyors of the FSM will take to heart the boundaries within which their game is productive.  For them to do so would be better for their own position as well as the positions of theists of various persuasions.  Perhaps most importantly, it would enable me once more to delight in the latest FSM sighting or bizarre stunt.