Old News

Is the Bible inerrant and infallible?  Some people still think so, irrationally.  The reverent believers who study the oldest available manuscripts know better.

Ahab over at the Republic of Gilead sent me an interesting news link regarding a little known project which has been going on for over half a century.  Tucked away in a corner of the Promised Land, a small group of Orthodox Jews are re-writing their Bible, what Christians affectionately call the "Old Testament."  These Jews are meticulously going letter by letter using all of the modern finds, like the Dead Sea Scrolls and other, more obscure scraps of Scripture, and comparing them with the traditional sources used in today's mainstream interpretations of the Bible.

In this tedious process, they've uncovered that some, um, mistakes which were made.  Sometimes, they were just minor changes of a word or two.  Sometimes, the issues were a little more damaging:

"Some verses, including ones containing a prophecy about the seizure and return of Temple implements by Babylonian soldiers, appear to have been added after the events happened."

To the skeptic, this is manna from Heaven.  ;-)   It would be inappropriate to assume that all of the prophesies which appear to have accurately come true were written after the fact based on this finding, but it has happened.  At least once.  That represents something incredibly significant.

An intentionally forged prophesy.  Made to deceive the readers, and/or the followers.  This represents evil intent.  It's a lie.  Why would you need to lie if you have the truth?  If you knew God did exist, how could you dare purposefully write a forgery in His holy book?  If you realize the truth isn't so true, but you benefit from that misguided belief, why not help it become more believable?

The Jewish scholars continue their work with unyielding faith.  Quietly.  With full knowledge that the people working on this project today will not be alive by the time this labor of love is complete.

A-Cross the Line in the Sand

In my previous post, I examined the reasons why an atheist may appear to be rude to a Christian believer upon discovering those beliefs.

Well, the Chalitzah sandal's on the other foot now.  We'll turn our focus on why Christians often give atheists the cold shoulder upon learning about their lack of faith.  To me, this list is much more entertaining and enlightening.  ;-)

You'll find a lot of similar reasons on this list, because we are human, after all.  However, there are some unique twists based on Scripture-based beliefs which really put an ugly slant on life.  Here's why I think a Christian may appear to get rude to atheists based on examples I have seen:

• Arrogance: believing that someone without faith is silly, willfully ignorant, or just slow.
• Insecurity: not having a foundational defense for why you believe, you just avoid getting into the conversation.
• Anger: in a stage of recovery due to the recent loss of belief that the other person had faith.  You can't understand why you didn't realize their lack of faith earlier.
• Bored: heard all of the atheist reasoning before, is still not impressed, and does not want to listen to it again.
• Turned Off(1): may have nothing or little to do with the other person's lack of belief, but the sum of the conversation thus far has made you decide the other person is not worth talking to, and you are just not a fan of perpetuating social graces.
• Turned Off(2):the atheist has found a way to belittle the belief in God and/or Jesus ten times into his or her last five sentences, and so seems a bit overzealous.
• Indignation(1): you believe that no one has the right to question God.
• Indignation(2): you see the atheist before as a representative of all atheist, and can"t abide to be in the presence of a perceived wicked force against God.
• Fear(1): you do not understand atheism so you try to avoid it for your own protection.
• Fear(2): you believe that the other person's atheist cooties (for lack of a better word) may somehow contaminate you and threaten your Salvation.
• Fear(3): you believe that the other person's atheist reasoning may somehow tempt you and turn you from God.
• Fear(4): you believe the other person is demon possessed.
• Fear(5): you believe the other person is deluded by Satan and has been turned into an agent working for Satan.
• Fear(6): with the Bible as your trusted moral compass, you are afraid that someone without a Bible compass is inherently going to be wickedly evil.  Without the Bible, how do they know what is right and what is wrong?

If I left something off, please let me know.

You probably noticed the heavy concentration on fears.  Fear is one of the by-products of this kind of faith.  Whether or not this fear is justified on an accurate interpretation of Scripture is up for debate, but to deny that these fears are spawned from some parts of the Bible would just be a lie.

A Line of Belief in the Sand

So much on the mind, but so little time to blog.  Here's a short one.

It's amazing, amusing, and sad to me to see what the mention of faith, or lack thereof, can do.  You can be having a perfectly good conversation with someone come to an abrupt end just by admitting you do not believe in God.  For others, it's just the opposite.  Mention you are a Christian in certain crowds and you get shut out.

A commenter by the name of Ollie Wallflower left this little nugget on my other blog on a post related to Jesus' controversial command to "hate" your family:

"Just a few months ago my friend's mother sent back the Mother's Day card he sent her because he had become a Christian and she has apparently disowned him because of it. It's a sad reality."

Based on my limited experience, here's a list of why some proclaimed atheists may appear to be that rude:

• Arrogance: believing that someone of faith is silly, willfully ignorant, or just slow.
• Insecurity: not having a foundational defense for why you don't believe despite the majority around you believing, you just avoid getting into the conversation
• Anger(1): not really an atheist, but is rather angry with God for some personal tragedy.
• Anger(2): in a stage of recovery due to the recent loss of faith.
• Guilt: knowing that you have made some serious mistakes, you don't need anyone to remind you.  (May or may not be a true atheist)
• Rebellion: you don't need anyone telling you what is right or wrong.  (May or may not be a true atheist)
• Bored: heard all of the Christian talk before, is still not impressed, and does not want to listen to it again.
• Offended: when you get told you are going to Hell just for not believing, you tend not to want to be friends with people who hold those kinds of beliefs.
• Fear: you do not understand it so you try to avoid it for your own protection.
• Turned Off(1): may have nothing or little to do with the other person's Christianity, but the sum of the conversation thus far has made you decide the other person is not worth talking to, and you are just not a fan of perpetuating social graces.
• Turned Off(2):the believer has found a way to weave God and/or Jesus ten times into his or her last five sentences, and so seems a bit overzealous.

I'm sure I left some off, so I may append to this later.

I'll start the Christian side on the next post.

Row 14

Ticket in hand, I walked down the narrow aisle of the commuter jet.  Seat 14A, that's what I was looking for.  I spied row 12, moved two rows beyond, and sat down in the best of both worlds; a combination aisle and window seat.  Oh yeah, the armrests were all mine.  :-)

I started the settling-in ritual.  Adjust the backpack at my feet.  Grab the book.  Tighten the safety belt of my seat.  Look up to see a guy staring quizzically at me.

Wait.  That last part is not routine.  As I'm piecing this information together, the guy says to me "I think you're in my seat."

I furl my brow in confusion, and reply "No, I think I am where I am supposed to be.  I have seat 14A..."  And as I am looking up at him, a quick glance to the side catches the row number.  It's 15.  For a moment, I am thoroughly confused.  I could have sworn that I sat down two rows beyond from where I saw row 12.

"Oh, I'm sorry.  Somehow I managed to miss my row," I tell him.  Quickly I gather my things, and we proceed to do that nameless dance you have to do when moving around someone else on an airplane.

He sits down.  I move up.  OK, row 15.. and there's row 14 where I am... next to row 12.  Row 12.  Row 12?

I sat down in row "14" with a confident reassurance that I can still accurately add two to twelve, but I couldn't help but be amused.  There is no row labeled 13.  Triskaidekaphobia strikes again.

This irrational phobia is still made manifest more often then you think.  New hotels, airplanes, sports stadiums, etc. all avoid the number 13.  In hotels, it's usually just the thirteenth floor which is "skipped," but I've also stayed in some hotels where the thirteenth room on every floor was omitted from being labeled as such.

Of course, the label does not change a thing.  A rose by any other name would smell as sweet, and a thirteenth row in an airplane still exists, even if it is labeled as the fourteenth row.  The fear gets even more irrational when you consider that where we start numbering is essentially an arbitrary convention.  There is no reason why you could not start numbering the rows from back to front in an airplane, or numbering the floors from top to bottom in a hotel (although it is more intuitive with our conventions).

So how does this relate to religion?  One theory is that triskaidekaphobia originated due to Judas being the thirteenth guest to sit at the table for the Last Supper, from where Judas would go on to betray Jesus, but the origin not really important.

The point is that triskaidekaphobia exists, in our modern world, without any kind of rational reason to have this fear.  Yet people with triskaidekaphobia are frightened to the point of feeling that their lives are in mortal danger from an arbitrarily assigned label.  It is a visceral feeling which shakes them to the very core.  And it's all... in... their... head.

Sometimes things which feel so real to us are nothing more than the lies we are willing to believe.

What's In It for Me?

"What's in it for me?"  He thinks to himself.  "Why would I want to doubt my faith?  I can't think of any logical reason.

"I love meeting up with my Christian friends every Sunday and Wednesday.  We have such a great fellowship, discussing the wonderful nuances of God's word and teasing each other about our favorite sports teams.

"We've got a great set of pastors too.  Sure, sometimes the sermons are as exciting as bran flakes, or as common and worn as my sneakers, but other times, it's just, it's just remarkable how great I feel after a good sermon.  Like everything is right in the world, you know?  Despite all of the problems, everything is right in the world, because God is in control, and He is working it all for His good.

"My wife, my sweet wife Charlotte, she is the epitome of Christian womanhood; dare I say the epitome of God's design for women.  In step with the Song of Solomon, she keeps herself beautiful and a healthy weight to keep my eye drawn to her.  And she is submissive to my will in love and respect to me.  Don't get me wrong, she is not afraid to share her opinion when we are discussing our family's plans, but she always gives me the final word.  Our relationship works so well that way.

"My parents raised me up in solid Christian principles, thank God!  Thank God for them!  You know, they are still together after 47 years of marriage, thanks be to God!  They do sleep in separate beds though.  My father had, well, a regrettable moment of weakness, like we all do at times.  We're only human, and not yet perfected.  He had an inappropriate relationship with a woman from work.  When he could no longer contain his building guilt, it spilled out and my father confessed in shame to my mom.  They stayed together, because that's what Christians do.  What God has joined, let no man (or woman) tear asunder.  You stay together, and you make it work.

"Like my parents raised me, so I am raising my own two children; walking hand in hand with God.  My son, Matthew, my oldest at six years old, he is really starting to thrive in the church's youth program, and he loves Upwards soccer.  Upwards and I are working for a common goal to strengthen Matthew's faith in Christ.  My daughter, Ruth, well, I am just so proud of her!  At only four years old, she is praying to God with such genuine spirit!  She's well beyond repeating 'Now I lay me down to sleep,' now instead asking God to care for orphans and the homeless we see in town.  What a special little girl I have been blessed with!

"So what's in it for me?  Why should I doubt?  Why should I lay aside the motivation I get from a good sermon?  Why should I insult my parents and break the fellowship of my closest friends?  Why should I unequally yoke with my adoring wife?  Why should I tell my kids that this is all make believe, and that I have been lying to them, albeit unintentionally, since they were born?

"For what?  For the 'truth?'  What will it profit me to lose my whole world in exchange for knowing this 'truth?'  And an empty truth at that.  No life after death.  No God to make everything right.  No hope for heaven.  No reward for being good or punishment for those who do wrong?  All of that, and I have to expend considerable effort to get to this 'truth?'

"Yeah, no thank you.  I have the truth.  God's word is the truth, and my life if based on that truth.  My life isn't a lie.  It can't be.  I've come too far in it to not know whether or not it is true.  It is true, I know it.

"And the truth is I have got about 30 minutes to get the kids cleaned and presentable and to the church, so I've got to get moving."

Edify the Spirit

Been busy, busy, busy!  Life happens, blogging suffers.  ;-)

Anyway, I was listening to the Christian radio in California one day and a gentleman came on for a brief monologue about schooling.  He was oh-so-briefly covering the options; public, private, home-school, tutors, etc.  In the end, he was happy that he had decided to home-school his children, enlisting the help of some tutors.  Personally I think home-schooling can be done right, so I don't hold a generic prejudice against it, and in turn I could not judge this man for that decision or for encouraging others to do so.  Had he left it at that, it would have been no harm, no foul.  But he didn't.

This guy's closing comment of the commentary was:

"Remember, it is better to edify the spirit than to educate the mind."  

Now that I do have a prejudice against.  The trouble is that what he said is the logical conclusion of the Christian faith, and other faiths as well.  With eternity at stake, is it more important to teach your children Algebra and Biology or to develop an enduring love for God/Jesus within them?  And so, at their offspring's and our nation's peril, ill-equipped children are released into the world cloaked in a stupor of religion.  Is that really "good?"

Personally, I don't see why this is an either/or proposition.  If your faith is real, wouldn't you want to both edify the spirits and educate the minds of your children, so that when they come into the real world they can defend themselves and their beliefs rationally?  I wouldn't accept an either/or choice.

Thoughts?

The Girl Gets It

"OK, this time nobody knows which is the good ball and which is the bad one," my niece, Suzy, said with an impish little smile.  Barely standing tall enough, she moved the billiard balls into position across the green felt, with a few renegade strands of straw blond hair curled around her slender arms.  We were playing a game which she was making up, and clearly she was as delighted to be spending quality time alone with her uncle as I was with her.  Personal quality is a rare luxury when there are three other siblings competing for it.

"Nobody knows, except God,"  she added with that same impish smile, only slightly wider.  I was not surprised to hear that.  She was, after all, my older sister's kid; home-schooled and cocooned a Christian world to the extent that her mother could insulate her without becoming recluse.

"OK," I said, and took aim at one of the two billiard balls with my pool cue, my mind wondering how this is going to turn out.

Crack!  Balls scattered, nodding to physics.

"OK, so did I hit the good ball or the bad ball?" I eagerly asked.

"Let me check," said Suzy.  She tilted her face towards heaven, and started mouthing words without sound, as if having a private conversation with God about the balls.

"God said you hit the good one!" she exclaims.

I couldn't help but slip into the profundity of the situation for a moment.  Here she was, holding an imaginary conversation with God, which, in a way, is what so many adults do.  And the process; look up to heaven, mouth words, get a reply, was as though something which she had been trained in or had observed adults around her performing.  Yet at the same time, she handled it as if it was all make believe, as if she knew it was all an hoax, like the way you may joke about running off a cliff and holding still for a few seconds before gravity takes over like in cartoons.

She handled it the way I would had handled it if I was "talking to God" for show.  That was the most interesting part, because it was like she knew that talking to God did not work, or at least did not work that way, like a conversation.  She gets it.  I just hope she keeps it, but chances are not good under my sister's tutelage.

Of course, how you leave your childhood home is not necessarily how you live your entire life.  I still have hope.