Threads from Henry's Web

Category: Energion.com

  • Teaching Evolution in Florida

    Brandon Haught of Florida Citizens for Science has started a series of posts on the history of the creation-evolution controversy here in Florida.

    In the new year I intend to spend a bit more time on Florida issues and even on county issues (Escambia County in northwest Florida), so you can watch for (and possibly ignore if you’re not from these parts) posts with those tags.

    I expect there to be bills on this, probably falsely called academic freedom bills, introduced into the next legislative sessions, and I will comment on them and track them here on this blog.

    It’s interesting to note how advocates of creationism in the schools have gone from bills forbidding that evolution be taught to “academic freedom” bills. Evolving strategy, eh?

  • Dialogue with Those Who Agree

    Two blogs I read regularly provided contrasting responses to Barack Obama’s choice of Rick Warren to give the invocation at his inauguration.

    First, Michael L. Westmoreland-White, who speaks from the left, expresses some anger because he sees Warren as someone whose views are opposed to those of many who made Barack Obama’s candidacy possible. As is usual, Dr. Westmoreland-White nuances his position and expresses it gracefully, even saying that some on the left would be willing to go along with the inclusiveness if Warren were giving the benediction, when many will have tuned out, rather than the invocation. I can understand that viewpoint.

    On the other end of the spectrum, Drew, guest blogger at Pursuing Holiness, thinks that Warren should refuse to give the invocation, because he is tacitly approving Obama’s “immoral” positions, citing particularly gay marriage, abortion, and even tax policy. To accurately reflect the flavor, let me quote:

    1 Corinthians 5:11 doesn’t explicitly mention “murder” or “stealing” or “blatant heresy,” but nonetheless…Warren should certainly hesitate before tolerating Obama’s gross immorality.

    It’s not my purpose here to debate these issues, but I should note that I would certainly not make it through Drew’s morality filter, and in fact I don’t think that he has expressed a particularly Christian filter at all. I define “Christian” as one who places one’s trust in Jesus, not as one who takes a particular set of positions on public policy.

    Though I’m clearly closer to Dr. Westmoreland-White’s position, my concern with both of these posts is similar in nature. I think we have a strong tendency to propose dialogue largely between groups of people who agree totally.

    Considering that the left, not to mention much of the center, has not had a seat at the table for the Bush administration, it is not surprising that many not on the right want to grab hold of the power and exclude the excluders. It is also doubtless difficult to carry on dialogue with those who regard you as grossly immoral, which is the position in which the GLBT community is placed.

    At the same time the challenge for Obama is to make whatever changes he can accomplish in Washington last more than one term and even more than two terms. In order to do that, he will need the support of opponents, and he will need to draw in more people. As such, his supporters might consider giving him more room.

    But from Warren’s point of view, I think it is important for him to have a voice. I don’t think that offering an invocation indicates support for all the moral positions of the person, group, or event in question.

    Dialogue needs to be between people who disagree. Bipartisanship needs to involve more than one party. Obama seems to be interested in both dialogue and bipartisanship. Let’s give him a chance to demonstrate an ability to lead in the midst of a chorus of diverse voices.

  • Book Notes: Theology of the Old Testament (Brueggemann)

    Brueggemann, Walter. Theology of the Old Testament: Testimony, Dispute, Advocacy. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1997. ISBN: 0-8006-3087-4.

    As is usual, note that I’m calling this book notes, and to some extent a response, rather than a review. That is more necessary in this case than most because the book is not aimed at a popular audience, and I am not a theologian, much less a specialist in Old Testament theology, and thus not qualified to write a formal review. I’d also be rather late, given publication in 1997!

    That’s one of the key things that struck me while reading this book–the rather substantial difference between Biblical exegesis and even hermeneutics used in its broadest sense and theology. To many, the term “theology” simply refers to any kind of religious studies, but as a technical term it is much more specific than that.

    For example, I can study Isaiah or Ezekiel, look at their historical situation, inquire as to the meaning of particular texts and passages, view them sociologically as a phenomenon of their time(s), and yet not get down to their theology, what they said or tried to say about God. In fact, it’s not even quite that simple, in that one can dispute whether theology is primarily a study about God, or more a study of what certain people said about God.

    In the case of Old Testament theology the question gets thornier, as one asks whether one is studying about God, what individual authors had to say about God, or an overall Old Testament view of God. To divide this further, is one studying the “Old Testament”, which has a name indicating its an element of Christian scripture, or is one studying the Hebrew Bible, in which case one’s study lenses might be quite different. One can even differentiate, I think, between studying the Hebrew Bible as Israelite theology as opposed to Jewish theology, modern Rabbinic Judaism being different from Israelite religion.

    Several elements of my immediate past reading came into play as I read this volume. First, through an accident of how interlibrary loan books arrive, I read Brueggemann’s work shortly after that of Bruce Waltke. It is nearly impossible to compare the two books, though I will try. First, Waltke writes at a more basic level. Neither work is popular, but Waltke’s would more suitably address beginning students in theology than would Brueggemann.

    Waltke is more conservative and traditional. In fact, despite his conservative credentials, Waltke gives more credit to historical-critical methologies than does Brueggemann, though it would be hard to nail that down. Both give some credit to the methodologies, and both criticize them. Despite statements regarding such methodologies, however, I think Brueggemann was more dependent on the results. The division of Isaiah into at least First (1-35[36-39]) and Second (40-55 or 40-66) Isaiah, and possibly Third Isaiah (56-66) is a critical element of Brueggemann’s theology, which he places at the time of the exile. Situating those texts elsewhere, for example in the traditional dating, would make a hash of his theological plan which assumes formation of the canon around the experience of the exile. That is, of course, one of the more obvious results of critical scholarship, but I think it demonstrates that no matter how much we may want to escape the historical questions, it is impossible to do so. More minor examples abound throughout the book.

    In addition, Waltke’s form, which includes individual theologies of the various books, as well as basic introductory material, would work well for a textbook for those without a strong background in Old Testament. Brueggemann, on the other hand, would not be suitable for students who had not worked through a good Old Testament introduction first.

    There was only one negative for me about this book, so I’m going to mention it first. A great deal of the post-modern vocabulary simply gets on my nerves. This may be a personal problem, as I was generally agreeing with the major points made, but I found the vocabulary a bit heavy in comparison to the freight it was carrying. Frequently, I would find that a passage that was quite convoluted in form, and mega-multi-syllabic in vocabulary, produced a fairly straightforward point. (Note to self: Do I do this unto others???) This included the double metaphor of testimony and grammar around which the book is woven. On the other hand, while many of the points were simple and straightforward, they were simultaneously quite profound.

    The organizing metaphor of the book is stated in the subtitle: Testimony, Dispute, Advocacy. Brueggemann reads the Old Testament as Israel’s testimony regarding Yahweh. That oversimplifies it a bit, so let me expand. He sees Israel testifying in various voices, and he places this specifically as courtroom testimony. (Please leave all atonement theories out of this; the purpose is different!) In a courtroom an attorney weaves a case out of the testimony of many people, no one of which knows the whole case, but each of which has some piece to add. They may not all meet smoothly at the edges, but the attorney making the case pulls them together.

    Well, not so much with the pulling it together part. Though he uses the metaphor, Brueggemann does not pretend to pull Old Testament theology into a coherent whole in the sense of making a unified case about God. Thus he avoids my usual criticism of Biblical theology, which is to say that the more systematic the theology, the less Biblical. The Bible is simply not systematic in its theology. He uses the term “thematization” as opposed to “systematization” in what may be one of the most profound suggestions of the book.

    He does this by first looking at Israel’s core testimony. I would note again, in passing, that in locating Israel’s core testimony, Brueggemann is most dependent on historical criticism. He then responds with Israel’s countertestimony. This is a very helpful approach, because there is a tension in scripture between the testimony of who God is and how God is experienced. We talk about loving heavenly parent, and at the same time experience the times of God’s silence and even abandonment.

    Israel’s experience in the exile testifies against their core testimony that God is eternally faithful and will not abandon them. It’s profoundly important in understanding Israelite theology, I think, to recognize that many of the strongest proclamations of the faithfulness of Yahweh to Israel were made in the face of actual experience. Some of the strongest statements come from Second Isaiah, for example, and are made from exile in Babylon. This countertestimony is discussed in the second section, from page 317-403.

    Part III discusses Israel’s unsolicited testimony, following the same courtroom metaphor, in which a witness adds things that he things are important, but which were not requested in order to make the original case. The key theme here is partnership, along with the suggestion that Israel comes to demand of God the faithfulness reflected in the core testimony. Brueggeman sees Israel in exile essentially waking God up to his obligations.

    I think this latter point, which is intricately woven into the book through the testimony metaphor, is quite important. Theologians, especially of the more systematic type, often subjugate the actual statements in the text to the demands of the theological system. For example, God can’t possibly change is mind (Genesis 6:6 / repent) or forget something and then remember it (Genesis 8:1). People can’t really be righteous, as was Job. So we try to make the text mean something else. Brueggemann let’s it say what it says, even in some cases where that grates.

    In a final section, Brueggemann discusses how the testimony is embodied, looking at worship, the canon, kings, priests, and so forth. This is probably the most straightforward section of the book, but is a necessary effort to tie things together.

    One point Brueggemann attempts to avoid is reading the Old Testament through supercessionist eyes. He does not see Christianity as a necessary result of Israelite religion as would Eichrodt, for example. He also resists the Christological interpretation of the Old Testament that is espoused by Brevard Childs, with his canonical approach. I would have to say, however, that Childs does have a very strong point to make, in that if one’s canon includes the New Testament, there is no way to conduct canonical criticism without seeing Old Testament passages as part of that canon.

    My own solution here is to use two terms. I use “Hebrew Bible” when looking at it as a document of the historical Israelite religion, and “Old Testament” only when reading it as an element of Christian canon. I believe one’s reading in those two cases is sufficiently different that one must practically regard the source as two different books. Though they contain the same words, those words take on a sufficiently different meaning that dangerous confusion results from pretending they are the same.

    I still regard both uses as legitimate, however, because I see canon as a product of community, rather than the reverse. Each book had its own place in history, but when they are made into a canon, they change roles. This applies even to smaller sections. Isaiah, Ezekiel, or Jeremiah, read as part of the canon, make very different points from what they would read as individual texts from their own historical time.

    In general, I found this book useful, but it also made me quite glad that I specialize more in exegesis than in theology. At the same time it reminds me of how much my role as a popularizer forces me to do theology on a daily basis no matter how I feel.

  • Evidently the Jesus Seminar is too Religious

    The Christian Post reports on a new effort to study the historical Jesus, known as the Jesus Project. Since I don’t always trust the objectivity of the Christian Post (or anyone else including myself, for that matter), I looked for additional information.

    According to both that source (and others):

    . . . Dr. R. Joseph Hoffmann, chair of the Project and the Committee for the Scientific Examination of Religion, said that the “The Jesus Seminar had difficulty separating itself from the faith commitments of its members. Its agenda was not exclusively, but in large measure theologically driven. Its conclusions and methods raised more questions than they answered.”

    Many people questioned whether the members of the Jesus Seminar actually had faith commitments, though I know personally that many did and do. Nonetheless, the Seminar remains a relatively radical consensus when the whole of historical Jesus scholarship is examined.

    The new effort is sponsored by the Center for the Scientific Examination of Religion, a “a research division of the Center for Inquiry” [source].

    Simply from the list of names, this looks pretty radical in nature, and the sponsorship is largely skeptical. I have no problem with such a project, though I think that any relatively narrow inquiry is going to, to paraphrase Dr. Hoffmann, “. . .raise more questions than it answers.”

    Note the following as well:

    During the closing conference round-table, Tabor was quick to emphasize that “the Jesus Project repudiates any theological agendas, special pleading, or dogmatic presuppositions.” All members of the project share a common commitment to the importance of applying scientific methodologies to the sources used to construct the Jesus tradition.

    [found in both sources cited]

    I personally am very skeptical of the possibility of repudiating “all theological agendas, special pleading, or dogmatic presuppositions.” In fact, the very claim generates more questions than answers in my case.

    I wish any scholarly group that studies the historical Jesus well, but I’m not setting my expectations very high for this one.

  • The Worst Argument for Bailing Out the Auto Industry

    I was thinking of this as I watched a few interviews today. I’m still less than at full speed after being sick in bed early in the week, and I’m spending more time on the couch working on my laptop and less at the desk in my office.

    My first inclination was to cite the argument that we already gave $700 billion to the financial industry, so we should obviously be willing to give $25 or $34 or $xx billion to the auto industry. That suggests that if I stupidly spend a large amount of money on some techie toy I thereby license myself to spend additional money on any other toy I may desire. Why not? I’ve already established the principle, no?

    Of course, since I do think the financial system bailout was a bad idea, and has also failed to bail out the financial system, I obviously would find the argument that we ought to do more of the same unconvincing.

    The auto company executives shouldn’t be too surprised they’re getting more scrutiny either, since many congressmen are quite annoyed at the apparent lack of effect of the original bailout and the fact that they really don’t know just how the money is being used.

    But I actually heard what I think is the worst argument from the mayor of Lansing who was interviewed on MSNBC. He refined the “we already bailed out the financial industry” argument so as to make it much worse when he said that since we had bailed out the financial industry we should be willing to bail out the auto companies where, after all, “real” people make “real” products. (Note that this summary is from memory just after watching the interview.)

    When certain Republicans talked about “real” people during the campaign and suggested that those of us on the other side were less patriotic, less American, or didn’t have values, I found it annoying. I also think it’s counterproductive in politics when you suggest people you ought to try to persuade that they are morally defective. (The left prefers to accuse its enemies of being mentally defective instead.)

    But in this case problems come from two directions. First, some of us “unreal” people out here are customers who buy those cars. And I would note that unlike a certain congressman who was advocating the bail-out this week, but was found to be driving a Honda himself, I do own an American car. And no, I don’t have a couple of foreign cars as well–I only own the one American product.

    But further, this entire distinction between the “real” people who produce “real” products is invalid in an economic sense. Without those “unreal” people on wall street, the auto manufacturers would be unable to gather the capital necessary to invest in those factories and create those jobs. We have this bizarre vocabulary that suggests that the “everyday workers” who man the assembly lines “make cars” but somehow the white collar folks do not.

    But the brains the design the cars, the managers who organize the rather complex manufacturing process, the financiers who pull together the money, and those who distribute them all have a major part to play. The assembly line workers would be unable to build any cars without all those people. That’s not intended as a put-down. They also have their part in the process, and an honorable one it is. But that’s no excuse to pretend that they’re the whole operation.

    The best argument may be the economic risk of letting the industry fail with the resulting dislocation. The problem with this argument is that, if the industry is not doing well now, and if we don’t have an actual plan that is likely to make it better later, all we’ll be doing is delaying the day of reckoning. And sort of like an earthquake fault, the more pressure we allow to build, the worse the crash is once it comes.

    The arguments used to pretend that the U. S. auto industry is really much better than their sales and balance sheets indicate don’t give me any sort of feeling of assurance that the current team is going to fix things. When they are told that they’re failing they point to ratings in automotive magazines and good reviews. But good reviews don’t pay the bills. “Unreal” people like me, who don’t work assembly lines but nonetheless need transportation, pay those bills when we choose an American car.

    Of course there is an alternative. Get those magazines and those reviewers to bail out the industry. Apparently they believe the manufacturers are doing well. On the other hand, I’m betting they got their test and/or review cars free.

  • Stories in a Chronological Context

    Several things over the last couple of weeks have called my attention to time.  My pastor preached about it last week, speaking of times of God’s extended silence.  I lost some of it while being sick this week which always makes me a bit tense.  Then I received a copy of 24/7:  A One Year Chronological Bible, which puts Bible readings into a chronological framework.  (I’ll get around to reviewing the Bible in a later post.)  Finally I was asked about God’s answers to prayer and the frequencies of his miraculous intervention.

    As Christians when we read scripture we need to be aware of these long periods of time.  There are times to lose our sense of times, especially when our liturgy calls us to become more aware of eternity and less aware of the present.  It is rare in my experience that the liturgy is successful in this call, but it is certainly worth it, and should be more frequent.  But the very experience of eternity impinging on our limited, dare I say puny, time requires that we be aware of time.

    Stories, on the other hand, tend naturally to give a false impression of time.  You cannot tell a story of a long period of time whilst truly giving the full impression of the extended time of waiting involved.  Frequently you’ll see phrases like “after a long time” or “after several months” or even “years passed.”  For the reader, whether it is a few days or a few years, they are passed in just a moment.

    Which in the ordinary course of reading a story is a minor issue.  You know that time passed for the characters, and you’re glad you don’t have hundreds of pages narrating when they ate, went to bed, got up, or went to the toilet.

    But when you go to reading scriptural stories, which provide us with an example (1 Corinthians 10:6), you need to think about this.  How long was it between one thing and the next.  Consider for a moment Judges 13:1:

    The Israelites again did what was evil in the sight of the LORD, and the LORD gave them into the hand of teh Philistines forty years.  (NRSV)

    Now how do we normally read this story?  Well, when I got it in church, I heard immediately about the arrival of the angel and then we wandered through the story of Samson as one overwhelming chain of miracles.  Of course, with all this miraculous intervention by God, we also shook our heads over Samson’s terrible failures.  How could he, when God was so obviously with him?

    But that view of the story misses two important things.  First, those forty years.  Forty years ago it was 1978, and Jimmy Carter had been president for nearly two years.  Forty years ago I was in college.  Forty years ago the PC was a pretty marginal idea.  Forty years ago there was no internet.  Forty years is a long time, and the Israelites had been under foreign domination for that length of time.

    Second, there’s the lifetime of Samson.  While the story of Samson can be covered in a Sunday School lesson or so, at least as stories are commonly covered in Sunday School, we’re told that Samson judged Israel for 20 years (Judges 16:31).  Twenty years is an awful lot of lifetime in which to hide those miracle stories.  It may be that Samson spent years between those miraculous interventions wondering whether God was going to do things for him.  Yes, we’re told he always had his strength, but it seems to have come into play only rarely.  All things considered, I would guess that Sampson did often long for God’s more direct intervention

    We can apply this principle to the entire Bible story.  I’m frequently asked why God doesn’t act today in the way he acted in Bible times.  Which Bible times?  Do we refer to the hundreds of hears the Israelites spent in slavery in Egypt?  Or perhaps we’re looking for century after century of the divided kingdom.  Maybe instead we should think about the 400 years or so from the time of the return from the exile to the opening pages of the New Testament.  Sure, we have a few interventions under the Maccabbees, but would you really want to suffer what those guys did in order to get a couple of divine interventions?

    My point here is certainly not that we should pray less, or ask less of God, nor is it to cut off hope.  More importantly, I think we need to cut off excuses.  We shouldn’t claim that God is more absent from our lives than he was from the lives of people in “Bible times.”

    Yes, there are moments in time when God’s intervention is pretty frequent, but even then remember that we are being told a few stories that cover a long time.  The book of Acts, for example, relates around 30 years of the history of the early church.  If we spread the number of miracles recorded in Acts over 30 years of the modern church, is it possible that people would complain bitterly about God’s absence?

    Stories are wonderful.  They can be encouraging or instructive.  But in the Bible they form part of a history of how God has intervened.  Understanding how they fit into time can be very important as we try to learn the lessons they offer for our lives.

  • The Jonah Problem Redux

    Bruce Alderman wrote an interesting post today on what has to be somewhere close to my favorite book of the Bible–Jonah.  He referenced an earlier post of mine from my Threads blog, but I’m not really commenting on that part.  I should also note that while I call Jonah somewhere close to my favorite book, that is a comment that causes my students in real life to burst forth with gales of laughter, since I have labeled way too many passages as my favorites.

    But the thing about Jonah is that there are so many different things you can get from it.  One key element is the way in which people get hung up on the miracle of the great fish, even though pretty much nobody would claim that’s the point of the book.  The great fish is largely a literary device to move the character forward.  You have the twist of Jonah heading off to the Spanish coast (to use an anachronistic name) but then winding up closer to Nineveh than when he started.  It’s an interesting note on the idea of running away from God.

    Bruce focuses on the hardship in which God places Jonah.  Often we’re afraid to comment on such things, but is God really being fair here?  He calls Jonah to go to Nineveh, makes him preach this unpopular message, and then turns and makes him into a false prophet.  I’m pretty certain we’re supposed to read that subtext in the story; I doubt a Jewish audience would miss it.

    So you have the intertwining of several messages at this point.  First, there is the message that God cares about people who are not Jews.  If, as is probable, Jonah was written during the time after the exile, this attitude to foreigners may well stand in opposition to the official position reflected in Nehemiah’s activities.

    Second, there is God’s focus on compassion over vengeance or judgment.  No Jew of the period would imagine that Nineveh hadn’t deserved destruction.  (Note also that if the general dating I referenced earlier is correct, Nineveh had already been destroyed at the time the book was written, making it an interesting “what-if” type of story.)

    Finally there’s the notion of the call of God on a person, and just how that may work out for the one who is called.  I wonder if Jews might have seen in this a bit of the impact of their call or chosenness on their own lives.  Being God’s chosen has not always been particularly pleasant for the Jewish people!

    I like to bring up Jonah when talking about spiritual gifts because inevitably someone is bound to comment on how nice it would be to be a prophet.  I have to suggest they think again.  Prophets don’t necessarily live happy lives.

    When teaching about how to study the Bible I use the phrase “the Jonah problem” in another way, however, which focuses on what Jonah does outside the city.  He’s waiting to see what God will do.  His interest is in the destruction of the city–or not.  So he hangs out waiting for God to act, when it turns out that God has already acted, but not in the expected way.  I define this “Jonah problem” as “looking for the wrong miracle.”

    I like to connect Jonah with Jeremiah 18.  Jeremiah is another excellent example of a prophet called into a very unpleasant situation.  He has to live in a city under siege and preach surrender, thus getting all the patriots up in arms against hm.  In Jeremiah 18 God provides him a vision to explain how it is that God can allow Jerusalem to be destroyed when he had earlier made an eternal promise to David.  (See Psalm 89:3-4, for example.)  God makes the claim there that he gets to change his mind.

    What I see in Jeremiah 18 is a fairly clear pointer to God’s major concern in prophecy.  We tend to look at prophecy as a way of learning what is going to happen.  God’s use of prophecy is to change people’s behavior.

    If a parent tells a child that he will not get to watch TV tonight unless he cleans his room, it is not the parent’s intent to inform the child as to what his evening will be like.  Rather, the parent wishes to get the child to clean his room.  If the room is cleaned, nobody becomes annoyed when the child gets his TV time.

    Perhaps we should consider giving God the same latitude.

  • On Bundling Tourist Attractions

    The Christian Post reports that the Cincinnati Zoo was forced to quit bundling its tickets with those to the Creation Museum in Petersburg, KY. This has been blogged to death all around the internet, and I’m going to join in ganging up on the story.

    According to the Creation Museum’s founder, Ken Ham, however, the zoo received hundreds of complaints, many of which were opposed to the faith and ideas that the museum presents.

    “It’s a pity that intolerant people have pushed for our expulsion simply because of our Christian faith,” Ham said, expressing disappointment in the zoo’s decision but also understanding of its perspective.

    I want to pick on a couple of points in that one.

    First, in calling opponents of this deal “intolerant people” Ken Ham accepts to bizarre modern notion that a lack of endorsement or assistance constitutes intolerance. I don’t regard those who refuse to give money to my church as intolerant. I don’t regard those who refuse to give money to a political candidate they oppose as intolerant. Bundling tickets is sharing value. It’s not intolerant to fail to do so, neither is it intolerant to oppose doing so.

    Second, the problem here is not the Museum sponsor’s “Christian faith.” It’s their completely untenable scientific ideas which their Museum is designed to promote. I’m a Christian. More importantly folks like Dr. Kenneth Miller and Dr. Francis Collins are Christians. It’s not the Christian faith that’s the problem, it’s the particular unscientific views of Answers in Genesis that are the problem.

    The Museum pushes young earth creationism, which requires a wholesale rejection of the bulk of modern science either directly or in its implications. Of course, we don’t see them rejecting all the technology that’s based on atomic theory when they reject radiometric dating. That would be impractical. But it’s implied.

    In bundling tickets, the Cincinnati Zoo was, in my opinion, giving too much tacit recognition to a museum that should be treated as outside the bounds of scientific discourse. There is simply no redeeming value in it at all. Now note that I don’t say it should be closed, or that its sponsors should be imprisoned, but I do say that they should not be treated as scientists engaged in the endeavor of bringing science to the public.

    One of the great negative side-effects of post-modernism has been this idea that all ideas are somehow equal and that we are intolerant if we don’t treat them as such. It goes hand in hand with the view that if we allow the expression of all sides of an issue, giving them equal time, we have somehow properly covered that issue.

    My view, on the contrary, is that ideas have to earn their place at the table. People who espouse unpopular ideas should be prepared to do the work of getting them to that place. The Creation Museum presents propaganda for a viewpoint that has never earned its place at the table, and indeed has repeatedly demonstrated that it doesn’t deserve such a place. An organization that is engaged in science should not even appear to endorse it.

    David at He Lives takes quite a different position than I do. He says:

    Ken Ham’s (silly) creation museum and the Cincinnati Zoo had a joint Christmas promotion—buy a ticket to one, see both. Now that is an odd, strange-bedfellows sort of pairing—but so what? People who wanted to visit both attractions could save a little money, and both places get a piece of the pie, including potential visits to their respective gift shop and restaurant cash cows. A win-win.

    Of course I risk having David tell me I have my “panties were bunched around his eyeballs” as he did of James Leach, but I agree much more with Leach. These are not merely two tourist attractions. I’m betting that neither institution would claim that as their primary purpose. The Creation Museum has as its goal religious proselytization, and the Zoo, one would hope, has an educational purpose.

    I would suggest that this was not the pairing of two tourist attractions, both of which were harmless. I would see it much more as similar to Disney World offering a bundled package with a tour of some whorehouses.

    But I’m sure I’m just over the top. I take both my science and my faith seriously. Because I take my faith seriously, I wouldn’t want my church contributing in any way to the Creation Museum. Because I take science seriously, I don’t want any scientific institution or group to contribute in any way to the Creation Museum.

  • Thinking about Business Regulation

    The current financial crisis has been cast as a failure of the left by the right, and failure of the right by the left. Did laissez faire capitalism fail or was it excessive taxation or regulation? Perhaps it was a combination.

    I use “left” and “right” here strictly in the context of capitalism, with “right” being those who espouse a maximally laissez-faire position, and left being those who favor government intervention. My own position is moderate in that I am willing to look at all points on that spectrum, but I lean strongly to the right in terms of solutions. I favor the economic solution that most depends on the general will of the participants in the economic system expressed in the way the spend their money, not in the way they vote at the ballot box.

    I should note here for honesty’s sake, as well as to irritate those who can be irritated, that I see neither capitalism nor democracy as absolutes in and of themselves. They are both strategies used to accomplish something in particular. This means that I oppose socialism (in the sense of government ownership of the means of production, not in terms of progressive models of taxation), not because I think the idea of government ownership is morally bad in the first place, but rather because I believe socialism works poorly in appropriately distributing economic goods.

    Similarly, I see democracy as one tool in helping to prevent tyranny, but I don’t think it is all that effective by itself. I would have no problem with various means of limiting or redistributing voting rights, provided those are evenly and objectively implied. The U. S. electoral college and the senate are both violations of pure one-person-one-vote policy, and I support both. I also don’t have any objection to literacy tests or to property requirements for voting, except that they have rarely been applied with an even hand, and I think human nature suggests they are unlikely to be.

    Having thus thrown out a couple of inflammatory ideas not really related to my topic, let me proceed! My assumptions here, which I am not going to support in detail is that fraud prevention and infrastructure building are legitimate functions of government. Further I’m not an ideologue who holds a priori that government can’t do a certain thing. If an activity of government truly benefits its citizens, including not producing unacceptable side-effects, I wll accept it. In practice I generally believe that limiting government action to carefully circumscribed zones is better.

    I think there is an important distinction that needs to be made as we think about government regulation or supervision of market activities. Process is important, and the principles that underly our action are also critical. The temptation, to which legislators almost always yield, is to write a law that prescribes results. In presenting such a law to the public, it is the results that are emphasized. You don’t generally see bills titles something like – “A Bill to Hire 10,000 New Regulators and Cause them to Swarm over the Banking System.” No, the title will be more like – “A Bill to Ensure Honesty in Banking” or something similar. (Examples are intentionally very generic.)

    In the financial markets, we tend to get regulators looking to see to particular results, such as particular rations of assets to liabilities, certain levels of stability, guarantees of funds for depositors, and so forth. Not all of these goals are bad.

    An alternative is to look at regulation from the point of view of the honesty and transparency of the process itself. In other words, rather than making sure that a bank cannot cross a particular line, aim at making certain that the public will know when the line is crossed, and focus enforcement on going after those who misrepresent.

    Extreme capitalists may object to the additional regulation, but see no similar problem in, for example, requiring that someone who manufactures toasters is actually delivering toasters. If such a company instead delivers clever plastic models of toasters that do not do any toasting, that is fraud.

    Similarly I should be able to walk up to a building with the word “bank” on the sign, and assume that I am dealing with something recognizable as a bank, rather than say a junk security marketing service or something similar. It’s simple to tell whether the toaster company is delivering toasters. It’s much more difficult to determine whether the bank is what I would traditionally regard as a bank.

    When deregulation came along, this is an issue that I think was not adequately addressed. Banks were restricted from doing certain activities that were generally viewed as risky. Deregulation permitted such activities. So in effect we changed the definition of “bank” as applied to a business name from one thing to another. This deregulation was viewed as more capitalism. I would suggest that in some cases it was simply an abdication of the very proper role of capitalist government in preventing fraud.

    I think there are many regulations that might be explained in either way–as a prescription of results, or as preventing misrepresentation. But I would be much happier if, as we consider how to keep markets more stable, we tried to emphasize providing investors with accurate information (including such infinitesimally small investors as myself) over simply preventing them from taken risks that they intelligently choose.

    As a final note just to annoy a few more people if possible, I question the function of the stock market as it is constituted. I have no idea how one would change it, but right now it seems to me to be falsely labeled. It should be called the Stock Casino. I have no objection to legalized gambling, but I’d like gambling to be called gambling, and investing to be called investing. Unfortunately, there is a certain amount of gambling in investing, and there can even be investing in gambling. But could we try to draw a line?

    OK, in the near future I will return to subjects on which I have greater expertise. I promise!

  • Fulfilling Needs or Catering to Wants

    The Internet Monk recommends a couple of books in a post titled Recommended: Wicker and Duin on The End of Evangelicalism, and I’m not going to gainsay his recommendation, considering I have read neither. But one comment he made caught my attention:

    Despite being an interesting read and passing along many good pieces of information and research, Duin’s own point of view is jumbled. One moment she longs for communal simplicity, another for the seminary atmosphere of intense theology and the next for the erudition and authenticity of L’Abri. . . .

    Duin in this quote is Julie Duin, author of Quitting Church. Now please understand that I’m not responding to her viewpoint, which I know only from a very brief second-hand reference. It’s the attitude that the Internet Monk seems to have found in the book, and which I have heard time and time again. Many people seem to be on a wandering quest, looking for whatever is not there in a particular church.

    Further, please don’t read anything I’m writing here as a suggestion that church leaders should be sloppy, or should not care about fulfilling the needs of their congregation. Too often when church leaders tell people to suck it in and live with the church, they are really simply not that interested in reaching those particular people. On the other hand, there are large numbers of pastors and other church leaders who are working themselves to death trying to reach people who may be searching for something that does not, and will not, exist.

    I recall preaching on a Sunday night once, in a church in which that service was attended by the most dedicated folks. I commented that I believed one should join a church not because of the needs it fulfilled, but rather because of how one could serve in and through that church congregation. A gentleman in the congregation objected strenuously. He thought the church needed to do a better job of serving him and of providing the kind of worship service he needed.

    He was not entirely wrong. We do have spiritual needs that must be fulfilled through worship, but ironically, I think, those real needs will never be served while our wants are being catered to.

    Hold that thought for a moment. While I was thinking about some of this, I read 8 in 10 Don’t Want Sunday School on John Meunier’s blog. The study from which he cited these numbers goes on to show that very few people are interested in spiritual formation beyond the occasional church service, and few want a small group experience.

    As a teacher and small group leader, this bothers me quite a bit. But I’m not sure that we’re generally going the right way in response in many churches. You see, we try to find out what people want to have happen on Sunday morning, and then we try to do that. But I believe that when Jesus gets hold of you, you’re going to go places and do things that you might not want to do.

    Worship is about God. Now I’ve argued before that leaders still have to pay attention to the people worshiping. You can’t just do anything you want and expect your congregation to encounter God in worship. But ultimately worship is going to involve loving God with all our hearts and our neighbors as ourselves, and that can get uncomfortable.

    Our neighbors? How about the neighbors down the pew? You see, worship is a giving exercise, and it might mean that I need to go and be part of Christ’s body when something is happening that I really don’t care for. If I’m the Bach lover, perhaps I need to be there for the teenagers with their praise band. If I want drums, perhaps I need to be there when the choir is singing an anthem.

    Or the problem might be in sermons. I might be longing for a message filled with intellectual stimulation, but the body, the whole congregation, needs to hear a message of conviction, or one of encouragement. Going to worship together will involve commitment, and horror of horrors, giving up some of what I want in order to be with that body. I want to be made happy. I need to serve and to surrender to God.

    The idea of being spiritual without a social aspect bothers me. The more I study, the more I see the command to love God and to love one’s neighbor as almost identical. This week’s lectionary text, Matthew 25:31-46 (The Sheep and the Goats), brings that more to the fore. Jesus is appearing in the form of people who need my help, and my love for Him is manifested in what I do for them.

    I think quite often when we drop out of church, what we are saying is that we can’t be bothered to spend an hour or two a week doing things that have to do with other people. It all has to be the way I want it to be or I’m not going to go.

    Now we can try to cater to that kind of folks if we want to, but I don’t think they will ever make a congregation. Our problem may not be so much that we lack enough entertaining music, adequate or excellent audio-visual material, or an engaging enough pastor. Our problem may be that we–myself included–lack enough commitment. If such folks are to become truly part of the body of Christ, they’re going to need to be converted, not catered to.

    It may be that rather than a change of church programs we need a change of heart.