by Calvin | Sep 10, 2015 | Uncategorized
I don’t remember exactly when I first noticed some cracks in my lens of faith. It happened sometime after I was able to ‘fess up to my somewhat irrational fear of the scientific community. Since admitting you have a problem, is the first step to healing (if you believe the science behind the addiction recovery industry) I’m finally ready to talk.
I’ve never considered myself a sucker for conspiracy theories. Like those experimental cars that were able to get 200 mpg until one day, an oil executive arrived at the inventors front door with a cheque for – a lot (the number of zeros fluctuates, depending on which decade you first heard the story). Invariably, the plans for this OPEC resistant vehicle got buried in a file cabinet, or left in somebody’s pants pockets only to be pulverized in the rinse cycle. Okay, I’ll admit I might be susceptible to this one.
But there is no bigger conspiracy theory being perpetrated against society, according to many evangelicals than Darwin’s longstanding hoax of evolution. While most people outside the faith can’t wrap their heads around our skepticism, it would be wise for those of us inside the community to at least admit this much: we have convinced ourselves that the so called “experts” are up to no good.
Yet, we still go through our daily lives taking full advantage of every technological advancement made possible by these same godless experts. From dental x-rays and flu vaccinations, to the genetically modified pizza toppings we shove into our cancer inducing microwave ovens (and collagen infused pizza-pie holes) christians are quite content to reap all the benefits of science without feeling the slightest tinge of remorse for disdaining the scientific community.
Case in point: Should Christians refuse an MRI when their doctor suggests it without knowing if science behind it is scripturally sound? (Thanks to those helpful people down at the internet, I was able to access some specs of this amazing technology – in exchange for my bank PIN and a promise to pick up a Nigerian prince at the airport.)
An MRI scanner is a tube surrounded by a giant circular magnet. The patient is tied down and inserted into the magnet. The magnet creates a strong electromagnetic field that apparently aligns the protons of hydrogen atoms in the body. As the protons spin they produce a faint signal that is detected by the receiver portion of the MRI scanner and an image is produced (thanks to medicinenet.com). Sounds like voodoo to me. The experts may theorize that those alleged hydrogen protons in my body are spinning, but I know my spleen better than anybody, and if it really was spinning… well I’d know about it. And God would most certainly know about it.
The problem, if we are suspect of science as many evangelicals are, is that magnetic resonance imaging is a technological cousin of radiocarbon dating, the same technology which is used to classify fossils and other ancient artifacts. Most christians are not fans of radiocarbon dating unless it helps confirm the age of the dead sea scrolls or tells us something miraculous about the Shroud of Turin. But our shallow exuberance vanishes into the ether when we are told the same laws of physics and associated gadgetry has just validated an 18,000 year old mastodon clavicle in Montana. 18,000 is such an unbiblical date to attach to anything!
To make matters worse, rather than allowing our fear of being deceived drive us to investigate and formulate a coherent response to the these technological “threats” to our faith, many christians simply recoil in the face of controversy. Alternative Creation Science groups, free from the heavy-handed reach of the mainstream science “elitists” publish their own sets of facts, and preach their own “literal” Biblical theories. Soon, Christian text books are trucked in to add legitimacy to the whole escapade, and eventually we call in a Christian law firm to muscle Intelligent Design into the spotlight and our public schools.
For “People Of the Light” we sure spend a lot of energy being afraid of the dark.
Here’s a question: Does the christian communities’ skepticism of science serve to enhance or discredit our faith? In other words, is the God who spoke the cosmos into existence and watched the big bang unfold, while scribbling the entire periodic table of elements on a napkin before it even existed – is He pleased with our efforts to berate those who call on every ounce of reason and intellect at their disposal to make sense of the physical world?
by Calvin | Aug 28, 2015 | Uncategorized
It used to be easy to spot the sinners. The world was full of our kind of people. And there were the others.
“Our Kind” had mastered the intricacies of faithful living. They looked like us, smelled like us and judged like us. Made us look better just by being in our circle. Of course the best part about being in the same circle with “our kind” was that we could agree on who the real sinners were without breaking a sweat.
Real sinners (as anyone with an eye for these things will tell you) are relatively easy to pick out of a lineup. Not the lineup for jello seconds at the church potluck mind you, but the lineup at the grocery store that contains all the usual suspects. The neighbourhood stoner. The crooked contractor. The unwed mother with 4 snotty faced kids and 3 ex’s. Easy pickins’ really, when it comes time to pick out the least among us.
The tougher task is trying to identify those individuals who ask annoying and unnecessary questions that make processing our faith less comfortable. Those kind of sinners aren’t as easy to spot in a crowd and are a lot more dangerous. These people would never threaten to mess up your face if you bailed on your pizza delivery bill. But, just when you least expect it, they might say a few words, mess up your take on Jesus or Genesis, smile like they are unaware of their heresy and move on.
These white collar sinners act a lot like Christians. They can be very convincing. They know how to pray, and they listen like they actually care, but you know that under that well landscaped exterior lurks that heart of a theological terrorist. These people hang out with their laptops, thinking and plotting and scratching at bits of extra-Biblical evidence and counter evidence to turn our otherwise orderly Bible studies into doctrinal war zones. And then, just when you’re relaxed (the donuts have been eaten and the notes have been handed out) they toss a grenade onto the coffee table and snicker. “I’ve been wondering this week: was Jesus the perfect communist?” or “is it plausible that Genesis is not entirely altogether actual literal history?”
What makes their little barbs so toxic is that one day, maybe years down the road, perhaps after you’ve suffered a knock on the head, or discovered your allergic to croutons, one of these absurd tiny ideas resurfaces as a legitimate thought. And like most dangerous ideas these ones don’t just vaporize at the next squirrel sighting. These niggly little ponderings are “sticky” to use the bloggers vernacular. They stay at the top no matter what hits your screen. And that’s what makes questions like so dangerous is that eventually you have to take them seriously.
by Calvin | Aug 17, 2015 | Uncategorized
I finally began reading a book that has been sitting on my shelf for several months now. “The God Delusion” by Richard Dawkins is possibly his best known title, but not because of its attention to detail or the water-tight argument lovingly cradled within its pages.
First off, I must admit that Richard Dawkins is a masterful storyteller, and a great writer. His artistry on the page makes for a somewhat pleasurable reading experience. I can even admire the passion with which he lays out his argument that God, the supernatural deity most of us associate with either Judaism, Christianity or Islam, doesn’t exist. Never has and never will. It’s easy to see why this particular book, has been able to stir up more bad blood than we’ve seen interjected into the faith debate since the KKK were still buying sheet sets in bulk.
I get that Richard Dawkins doesn’t believe in God. I get that he doesn’t even like the idea of God. But I don’t think it is necessary for Christians to reach for the garlic and a wooden stake just yet.
I’m not convinced that books such as The God Delusion will ever be serious threats to the truth of Christianity. It was only a few short years ago that The Da Vinci Code had some people believing that the Jesus cult, almost twenty centuries old was teetering on the edge of irrelevance. And what happened to Dan Brown and his master thesis after all the hype? Exactly.
Like every other Jesus conspiracy theorist before him Dawkins revels in his ability to raise the hackles of the faithful. But he has about as much faith-busting DNA in his entire argument as you’ll come across at most atheist java stand gatherings. And the unfaithful have an aversion to regular gatherings. Atheists, don’t get gold stars for showing up, and they most certainly don’t get candy for bringing a friend.
One of Dawkins stated motives for writing The God Delusion was to assist those vast hordes of wavering believers, mired in the hope of a redeeming plan for creation, shed their shackles of messianic expectation. Better to party in the glow of sardonic despondency, suggests the author, than drown in a morass of toxic holy water. He even suggests that adults who attempt to strap spiritual water wings on their children, and teach them to navigate the currents of faith as infants, should be tried as child abusers. Personally, I enjoy all the splashing about and scrambling for finger-holds that accompanies this thing called faith. Believing isn’t supposed to be easy, unless you are a seven year old, in which case it’s perfectly natural. It isn’t until we get older that we forget how to float.
If I have one problem with Delusion it’s that I can’t narrow down which of Dawkins diatribes to take aim at. Early on he rails against Stephen Jay Gould, a fellow biologist and self-proclaimed agnostic (a closet atheist, according to Dawkins, without the spherical intestitude to “come out”) for suggesting that spiritual matters cannot be adjudicated under the authority of science. Then, only a couple of pages later, Dawkins asks brazenly “What makes you think that theology is a subject at all?” Bizarre behavior coming from an author reaping the earthly rewards of writing such a noisy book on that very subject.
His unabashed whining against the sincere writings of St. Francis of Assisi and C.S. Lewis among others only seems abrasive until he takes a deep breath, fills his lungs with oxygen and angst and lets loose on the Almighty:
“Yahweh: “The God of the Old Testament is arguably the most unpleasant character in all fiction: jealous and proud of it; a petty, unjust, unforgiving control-freak; a vindictive, bloodthirsty ethnic cleanser, a misogynistic, homophobic, racist, infanticidal, genocidal, filicidal, pestilential, megalomaniacal, sadomasochistic, capriciously malevolent bully.”
And they said the Hindenburg was incendiary.
Dawkins achilles heel (highly evolved and imperfectly designed though it may be) is his inability to recognize that while he may be a celebrity in science circles, his authority as a biologist doesn’t extend into the hallowed halls of the faith conversation. That’s not to say that as a theological hobbyist his views are less legit than mine or anyone elses. I’m only saying that Dawkins focus on the laws of natural selection and genetic mutation don’t guarantee him a pass in other disciplines. If I want to know why most of the animal kingdom produces vitamin C internally, and I need to get mine out of a bottle, I ask Richard Dawkins. However, if I wish to locate the source of this prideful arrogance that keeps me from admitting I’m not God – well, I think I’ll keep looking. I’m not sure Mr. Dawkins can help me.
This isn’t the only Dawkins book on my shelf. “The Greatest Show on Earth”, his more recent work, is a wonderfully entertaining explanation of the workings of biological evolution. But while Greatest Show allowed me to scratch Richard Dawkins from my ever-morphing list of most unlikable humans on the planet, The God Delusion may result in him ending right back on my dart board next to Donal Trump’s hair stylist.
by Calvin | Jul 30, 2015 | Uncategorized
It’s a scary situation. The idea of letting an adult with little time for the traditional understanding of Genesis teach Bible stories to a group of impressionable grade schoolers. Why not just boot them out of the minivan into the church parking lot with a note duct taped to their backside that reads “point me to the slaughterhouse”? I mean what parent in their right mind would allow some crazy who believes in evolution to teach sunday school? Or marry for that matter? But while keeping the size of the heretic herd down by discouraging procreation might seem well, productive, I suggest we try another approach.
I bring this up because I have “this friend” (really) an old testament scholar with letters, a Genesis genius by most standards, who is on pins and needles because he is about to wrap up the story of Noah’s Ark with his Sunday school class. Trouble is, his take on Noah is so well informed and foreign to most Christian parents that he’s conflicted about how to carry out the assigned task. He knows that the Hebrew version of the Ark story is mirrored in the histories of other ancient cultures. Older cultures. Babylon, where the Hebrews had spent several decades in exile, was one of those cultures.
My friend understands how vital it was that the Hebrews reframe that ancient story showing how Yahweh, Israel’s God was really in control. Their Babylonian neighbours only knew of a world with anaemic, impulsive gods who were incapable of accomplishing much. Israel knew better. So, whenever they retold the old story of the great flood to their children, Yahweh was given a central role. My friend is passionate about Biblical truth and kids and faith but telling that familiar Bible story as he understands it will freak out the parents. If he does this the wrong way he’s likely to get thrown under the sunday school bus.
As I write this, thousands of kids who’ve grown up in church and been taught that the earth is 10,000 years old and that Noah’s flood covered the entire planet are being introduced to Darwin’s little idea in a college lecture theatre not too far from home. They are hearing much of it for the first time and according to the statistics, they are mostly being taught by individuals opposed to Christianity.
Here’s the real problem: We have been telling our kids for decades that a career in the sciences might be dangerous to their faith. Why are we surprised that so few college faculty consider themselves believers. We did this to ourselves. In our efforts to keep one generation out of the frying pan of Godless scientific thought, we’ve unwittingly tossed the next generation into the bunsen burner. Today’s confrontations with unbelieving professors are happening because the only candidates qualified to fill those job postings years ago didn’t have a Christian worldview. And we were unqualified to apply for those jobs because we we’r wearing ourselves out running away from science.
It will take a decade to reverse this trend but we can do something about it. How’s this for a radical idea? Let’s introduce alternate ways of thinking about creation and the Genesis story IN our sunday schools. Let’s take the lead in an environment where we can thoughtfully and prayerfully discuss how faith, science and world history mesh. It might just result in more informed kids (and teachers) and a new generation of Jesus followers less afraid of “secular” learning and more prepared to enter the real world.
(Whenever I get the chance I refer people to biologos.org – a great site to discover resources for learning about faith and science. Have a look, and you’ll discover that this limb I am out on, is getting more crowded everyday.)
by Calvin | Jul 17, 2015 | Uncategorized
Some things in life mix better than others. Take macaroni and cheese, as a case in point. For a guy like myself, who can’t assemble a four course meal without sweating all day before I give up and order a pizza, there’s something wondrous, about those curly, starch encrusted noodles in the familiar blue and white box with the orange trim.
If I can be considered an expert in any one dish, this is it. But it’s not the noodles that make for such a powerful rush of culinary adrenaline (my wife Arlene, an astounding chef has just left the room in tears). Not until you take the effort to add some hormone riddled homogenized milk, pour in a couple of orange spoonfuls of “I-can’t-believe-it’s-not-toxic” from the envelope, does Mac and Cheese takes on its familiar alien glow and become everything you knew it would be.
But somewhere, in the ancient mists of kitchens long since renovated (and untraceable with current tools of cookbook archaeology) a bankrupt soul, ravenous beyond the edge of reason, reached for a ketchup bottle.
And what started out as good (and it was very good) was forever ruined.
This is the way I’ve always viewed my faith. There are certain flavors and textures in life that mesh with my understanding of God, and some that don’t. Majestic concepts like order and grace, virtues like patience and contentment, or the necessities of morality, duty and serving all make sense to me from a faith perspective.
And then there is science.
I’ve always viewed science as trouble. Don’t get me wrong, I like science. If it helps us combat scurvy, download ring-tones, or cure flatulence bring it on. I totally respect Science – as long as it doesn’t touch anything else on my plate. But as soon as those star-bellied sneeches over at the lab start implying that their genetics or geology should impact my theology – well that’s where it starts to get a little heated in this kitchen.
At least that’s the way I used to think. Recently I’ve been reading and researching the troubled history between the community of faith and the community of science and do you know what I’ve learned?
Science hasn’t always been considered the enemy. In fact, St. Augustine showed a lot more respect for the scientific elite in his day than many evangelical Christians do today. In The Literal Meaning of Genesis he wrote:
“If they find a Christian mistaken in a field which they themselves know well and hear him maintaining his foolish opinions about our books, how are they going to believe those books in matters concerning the resurrection of the dead, the hope of eternal life, and the kingdom of heaven, when they think their pages are full of falsehoods and on facts which they themselves have learnt from experience and the light of reason?”
And Augustine was just getting started.
“Reckless and incompetent expounders of Holy Scripture bring untold trouble and sorrow on their wiser brethren when they are caught in one of their mischievous false opinions and are taken to task by those who are not bound by the authority of our sacred books…”
Obviously, as early as the fourth century, some of the faithful had decided that it was better to oppose science than embrace it. Race ahead, 1500 years, and it doesn’t look like much has changed. a quick perusal of the life of Galileo or Newton seem to indicate that Christians are categorically suspect of scientific advancement. And then along came Charles Darwin with those ridiculous sideburns and an absurd notion that all of life – ferns, reptiles, lemurs, and even scrabble players developed over millions of years from the same primordial broth. Most Christians, find Darwin’s theory so distasteful, that even a single mention of his name, has been known to turn a pleasant sunday school picnic into a tribal council bloodletting.
Is it possible that the line in the sand between science and faith can be rubbed out without causing irreparable damage?
While I have always had some use for ketchup, I have only recently discovered that mixing ketchup with Mac and cheese isn’t so bad after all. Once you got over the initial shock of color (your rods and cones stop fighting with each other and your optic nerve settles down) ketchup merges effortlessly with Mac and Cheese – the tangy aftertaste in the former actually compliments the familiar cheddery smoothness of the latter.
I bet St. Augustine would have loved this stuff.
Title Image: Painting by Claudio Coello
Wikimedia Commons / Public Domain
by Calvin | Jun 15, 2015 | Uncategorized
This may be old news to many of you but I just learned that Cheetah, simian costar of the original Tarzan movies featuring Johnny Weissmeuller, died at his home in Palm Beach Florida. He was 80 years old. While there is a bit of controversy over the true identity of the chimp ( some aren’t sure he was the real Cheetah; his actors guild ID card looked forged) his caretakers are convinced. They maintain he came to them from Weissmeuller’s estate in 1960. Rumour has it he arrived with nothing but really big sunglasses and an autographed Ed Asner tie.
The part of the story that caught my eye was that this chimpanzee was very sensitive to human emotions and enjoyed tuning the radio station in his compound so he could listen to Christian music. While this news is less astounding than learning that some christian musicians flip through their iPods to listen to The Monkeys, I am still having trouble processing.
The real story here is not whether an ordinary chimp scammed Floridians into treating him like a celebrity. The real story is a twist on the age-old question of whether animals go to heaven. If indeed they do (as most of us secretly wish) than what on earth would have possessed this creature to listen to contemporary christian music by choice? You’re already in man. Don’t beat yourself up!
Now let’s assume for argument’s sake that animals do not go to heaven. Or should I say ALL animals. Does this open a narrow door for a chimp who can’t stomach country music down the dial to find MercyMe artistically compelling and theologically intriguing? Oh stop!
Can a monkey really be saved? And if so, does this prove that their chimp DNA (which is a 97% match with human DNA) makes them eligible to cast ballots for the Reader’s Choice Dove awards?
In light of this new data should christian songwriters rework their lyrics to make hymns and worship songs more inclusive of other species? Forget feminist language – lets start pandering to homo-sapians of every denomination. Examples that come to mind include George Beverly Shae’s crusade showstopper “Just As I Am Without One Flea” and Third Days’s “God of Wonders beyond Banana Tree”. You can likely think of a few others.
However, while the behaviour of this chimpanzee may explain the inexplicable rise of Hillsongs United (given that many wild animals now have universal access to satellite bundled with their mobile data plans) there is more at stake here than a shift in worship music. This startling news lends credence to the idea that, for the sake of evangelism, we should paint-over classic christian works of art depicting the fall of Adam and Eve with something a little more tempting than an apple? This will cost money. I wonder if Dole or Chiquita would pony up for the naming rights? So many things to consider. The fields are ripe and the labourers are only human.
Does this story do anything to convince you that evolution is true or just confirm that Christian music has wider audience APPEAL than we’ve been led to believe?
I need some clarity here people.
