Here is a bag of disjointed ideas that need organizing in the future.
**DISCLAIMER: I'm serious when I say they are disjointed. Read at your own risk.**
(a) After heading down to Resolved, I have been increasingly disturbed by the political associations to religion (conservative Christian versus liberal atheist). And also the increasing "moralization" of liberal as being wayward.
One of the most memorable and disturbing experiences: John MacArthur's vituperative attack on global warming ("there is no evidence to show that humans are warming the planet!"), environmentalism ("God *cursed* this planet!"), evolution ("the first test of Christian obedience to scripture is Genesis 1, and evolution simply cannot fit in"), and feminism/homosexuality ("feminine men and homosexuals must see their sinfulness") frightens me. For me, it isn't primarily the content that continues to haunt me , but rather to witness a man of such supposed scholarly caliber to rain such judgment on these issues. Okay, content also scares me: for someone to in the same one hour lecture first deny the authority of science over scripture (I can deal with this point) but THEN try to provide scientific (in the general sense of empiricism and inductive reasoning) evidence against global warming, homosexuality, evolution, and environmentalism... and be applauded as if he's successfuly done that makes me shiver.
His response, I must consider, would be to say that if Scripture condemns something, Christians are free to condemn it as well with the authority of scripture. Even given that point, one of the wedge issues in my head that has found little resolution is homosexuality.
Getting a chance to correspond with Zaid, one of the most intelligent and thoughtful Muslims friends I have, has helped think about LGBT in context. EVEN if assume Islam and Christianity agree that all relationships outside of the *religious* conception of marraige (=man+woman) are sinful, what is the loving and kind response?
(b) Segue into Don Miller's Blue Like Jazz: I just finished reading it tonight. His final chapters on love were intriguing responses to my previous question. First, he presents the dilemma: free-love hippies living in the forest who are non-Christian come off as more accepting and loving than Christians--who ought to be absolutely accepting and loving having been given that gift from God. He realizes that Christians use economic metaphors to describe love (investing in a relationship) and somewhat haphazardly ties things together to say that the dilemma is solved.
Okay. But what does it mean to be fully accepting of ourselves (humanity, you, and me--straight, female, male, homosexual, liberal, democrat, conservative, republican alike)? My proclivity is to say "leave the judging to God, MacArthur!" and deal with what I can: accepting and loving people for who they are. But another side of my conscience pricks me: isn't that compromising? If I are fully convinced (and I'm definitely not at this point) that LGBT is sinful, then after I have demonstrated my love and care, part of my duty is to tell people. How else will they hear that LGBT lifestyle is sinful? And what good, loving father ever let his son continue down a path that would get his son hurt?
(c) And this brings me to a wonderful screenplay by Robert Bolt: A Man for All Seasons. Reading A Man of All Seasons, the character Thomas More takes comfort in the "forested realms" of society and law (they are on "firm [i.e. understandable] ground") rather than navigating the unpredictable moral waters of the transcendent.
Of course, that is not to say that he values the law higher than the morals of God. As a Catholic in a country entering the throes of Reformation because of a King who wants to divorce his infertile wife for another (who, incidentally, was supposed to be his brother's wife), Thomas More is eventually beheaded for standing to his belief that the Pope is the authority of God and the divorce is unlawful by the eyes of God. The screenplay makes it clear that he stands firm because he does not want to lose "himself," his integrity.
"It is not important that I believe, it is important that I believe!"
Actually, his ability to stay within the forested realms of human law refers to his belief that on earth these laws keep society ordered and safe rather than maintain morality. Until he is betrayed by his friend Rich, he does fanciful legal acrobatics by playing through loopholes in the law and keeps his head even while refusing to endorse the King. He refuses to sign an oath saying the King's new marraige is legal, but nothing in the law can convict him.
His dilemma is piercingly reiminescent of Prop 8. Can Christians endorse Prop 8 without sacrificing integrity and God's morality? Are laws inherently moral? Or do they function to maintain the order and proper functioning of society?
One particular discussion that has continued to bounce back and forth (especially with PSLPers) is the importance of impact (or the lack thereof). How important should making a big impact in this world be for me in defining my goals and directions? Applying for grants and fellowships highlights this dilemma--as all of them are seeking applicants who attempt to maximize their impact. But WAIT: what is impact? And to whom?
Just because I've done a lot or expanded a program quickly means nothing in terms of impact. The complex threads of cause and effect dictate that your little act of selflessness today at the bookstore may have just saved the universe without your knowing. And your feeding thousands of homeless today may have accidentally done something heinous. Looking across time, looking across geography, looking through various metrics--impact becomes accursedly ethereal and intangible. My conclusion is to provide due weight to what fulfills you: what impacts YOU (of course, I will argue that playing video games all day is clearly less impactful than working at a shelter).
(e) And in pursuit of impact, I've realized there are other parts of this ship sailing through uncertain waters that are in need of attention. I am no man for all seasons, for at this season of my life, the most daunting fear is no longer to be known and to have found achievement. Rather, my fear is the groaning of this ship's planks soaked in brine, lost from the shore and utterly alone. The hunger and thirst of a crew surrounded by water, but unable to drink; to serve amidst thousands of people and have connection to nobody.
Maybe--and I smile sheepishly--it was watching Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog that stuck a chord of discomfort at knowing how quickly time passes and how uncertain everything can be. And just how disconnected.
I'm making no sense.
Sense is overrated.
But I shouldn't judge.
I need to stop. Now. XD.
3 comments:
haha best blogpost of yours ever. i enjoyed reading it. esp. the last bit. see you in august.
I like this article. Very comprehensive, informative, fluent writing, provocative thinking. It sure inspired me and gets me thinking about those issues.
I might share with you someday.
p.s. I have collected most if not all of your previous writing, that I think may be published someday in a collection.
Hey James,
I've been meaning to respond to this post for a while now. It's good to see you struggling with these issues that we all deal with - something about the shared human experience gives comfort to many.
I wanted to challenge you on two points - not with answers, but more questions and points to consider.
Midway through your post you wrote the following: "If I are fully convinced (and I'm definitely not at this point) that LGBT is sinful, then after I have demonstrated my love and care, part of my duty is to tell people. How else will they hear that LGBT lifestyle is sinful? And what good, loving father ever let his son continue down a path that would get his son hurt?" Here, I would ask you whether your intuition really suggests that your duty would be to tell people their sins. Perhaps it depends on circumstance, but I wonder whether the obligation to tell people their sins always exists - and on another extreme, whether there ever is an obligation to tell others about any of their sins as fellow sinners ourselves.
Finally, at the end of your post you said, "The complex threads of cause and effect dictate that your little act of selflessness today at the bookstore may have just saved the universe without your knowing. And your feeding thousands of homeless today may have accidentally done something heinous. Looking across time, looking across geography, looking through various metrics--impact becomes accursedly ethereal and intangible. My conclusion is to provide due weight to what fulfills you: what impacts YOU (of course, I will argue that playing video games all day is clearly less impactful than working at a shelter)." First, I wonder whether the logic holds. If your action at the bookstore could have unknowingly saved the world while your action towards the homeless could have done something heinous, how can playing video games all day clearly be less impactful than working at a shelter given the same logic? In fact, given your implied conclusion that because of the impossibility of estimating impact, it is better to focus on what impacts you (which relies on the assumption that you are a better estimator of what impacts you) one has to wonder if external impacts should matter at all. Perhaps we shouldn't be giving up on the pursuit of impact - what choice do we have but to make the decisions we think will impact the world in the most positive way? - but to recognize that ultimately, our individual efforts are subject to incredible variance and unpredictability. Another way to frame the issue is asking ourselves whether it would be better for humanity in the aggregate would be better off if everyone chose to maximize impact. If not, then we should ask ourselves what choice would be better.
Anyway, hope you're doing well - I have no idea where in the world you are right now, but if you're around SF, give me a holla.
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