It’s easy to predict trouble. We tell children “life isn’t fair” and “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” These phrases assume that we encounter unfairness and that hurtful words are spoken to us. Jesus Himself told His disciples: “In this world you will have trouble” (John 16:33a). But what he said after that is more important. He uttered this command: “Take heart, I have overcome the world” (John 16:34b).
Hananiah was a false prophet who came to the Jews in exile claiming that God was going to “break the yoke of the king of Babylon” (Jeremiah 29:4). It sounds familiar. Politicians tell us that they will fix our lives, end our wars and stabilize our economy. They’re going to free us from all the troubles of the world. And this is what we love to hear—that someone, be it God or Congress—will make life easier.
Jeremiah’s responses to Hananiah were probably some of the most heartbreaking the Jews ever heard. He went back soon after this reading to relay a message from God: “I will put an iron yoke on the necks of all these nations to make them serve Nebuchadnezzar king of Babylon, and they will serve him” (Jeremiah 28:13, 14). God promised Israel a life of struggle and of hardship. Hananiah promised the Israelites another life of struggle and of hardship. How did he think the rule of Babylon would be broken, because Nebuchadnezzar grew fond of daisy-picking?
When something sounds too good to be true, it probably is. The Christian life is full of the hardships that the prophets and Jesus talk about, as Jeremiah reminds us. But the prophet who prophesied peace has come. And we should take heart, for He has overcome the world.
Prayer:
Dear God, This life is full of hardships. Sometimes it’s easy to put my hope in the promises of people. Help me to remember that Jesus has overcome the world, and that the life of peace has come. Amen.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
War is Peace
Sunday, April 6, 2008
White People, Terrorism...
Engadget.com has a nice little news story about some Malaysian telecom company linking mosques together with a 224Mbps Internet connection at the low, low price of $1.57 (US) per month. Of course, someone was quick to observe "terrorists" at Muslim mosques, which prompted another commenter to ask why "white people" call other people terrorists. I had no idea terrorism was a race thing. I also had no idea that Islam was a racial group. I was pretty sure it was a religion.
I consider a lot of tactics employed by the IRA to be "terrorist" in nature. They're white folks. Timothy McVeigh? Terrorist. Ted Kazynski? Terrorist. White folks can be terrorists, too. And this white guy ain't afraid to say so.
But let's be straight for a minute. "Ethnic cleansing" genocides are markedly different from terrorism. Morally disgusting, straight-up wrong, reprehensible? Yes, but not the same. "One man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter" is a tired, tired cliche, and more importantly, a patently ignorant one at that. "Terrorism" describes tactics--the use of violence against a civilian populace in order to inflict fear (or "terror," if you will) and therefore coerce a governmental power to acquiesce to a set of wishes. A freedom fighter is one who fights for freedom, and his tactics need not be terrorist in nature. A freedom fighter can be a politician, a soldier in a regular militia or, yes, even a terrorist. But one man's freedom fighter can also be his terrorist, because it's about tactics, not ends.
Do genocides inflict terror? Absolutely. But the goal of genocide is rarely to inflict terror. NAZI germany looked to "purify" themselves. Absolutely wrong, and their leaders and followers deserve whatever punishment is due such despicable actions in Hell. Communist Russia looked to remove political enemies and establish a stronger central government. The establishment rarely, rarely seeks to inflict terror as an end in and of itself. I see your 6 million Jews, and I raise you one million Chinese. QED.
Why do we call others terrorists? I call it like I see it. Call me when American churches network and encourage suicide bombings in Egypt. I don't think I'll ever get that call. The simple fact is not every Muslim is a terrorist, but in terms of a percentage of the group, Islam is far and away a more violent religion than any other in the world.
What!? But Islam means peace! Actually, no it doesn't. It means "submission." It is etymologically linked to a Semitic word meaning peace ("Salem"), but the idea of Islam is to bring peace by bringing all the world under the hegemony of Allah, represented on earth by his political caliphate. They want us to submit. Their idea of religious freedom is the jizya, a tax all non-Muslims must pay while living in a Muslim country. I have to pay to be a Christian? I'll pass, thanks.
Finally, dear God, can we stop being political? This post was about the tech, as its engadget, not "en-politic." I want 224Mbps broadband, please.
A Short Post...
Fire John McLaren. Yesterday would have been fine. That is all.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
The Most Inglorious Return
It has been over a year since I updated this precious little trove of my ramblings, and somehow I feel like I've cheated the reading world of a few things. It is not that I suddenly ceased having thoughts over the last year; I simply desisted typing them up with a flare of sarcastic panache. I'll spare you my fully ramblomatic thoughts on all that has been going in the past year for some other time--namely the next several days when I'm posting such thoughts--for a thought I had today.
I read. A lot. Fiction books I've read over the last year:
- Emma by Jane Austen
- The Idiot by Fyodor Dostoevsky
- Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy
- A laundry list of Star Wars books
- Last Days of Summer by Steve Kluger
- The Hunchbak of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo
- Great Expectations by Charles Dickens
- After Dark by Haruki Murakami
- Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J. K. Rowling
- Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman
- American Gods by Neil Gaiman
- Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett
- Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer
I've only listed books that a) I hadn't read prior to 2007 and b) readily came to mind while typing up this list. I generally finish a new book in about 3-4 days, over about 10 hours of cumulative reading time. There are more than this list, along with some non-fiction.
I digress, though. This post is entirely about Murakami's After Dark. I finished reading it at about 12:30 this afternoon. I don't know what made me check out the book from the library. I recognized the Murakami's name from somewhere at the time (since, I've come to realize it was from Ananth Panagariya's blogging on applegeeks.com), and the local library had his novel South of the Border, West of the Sun on display.
Murakami is, apparently, hailed as a modern master. I haven't read his other works (I'm reading South of the Border... right now), so I cannot attest to or deny this label. I can understand the praise, however, in that he is a talented writer. He knows how to vary sentence length and select words appropriate to the tone he is trying to capture, often using screenplay-esque sentence fragments ("The Skylark. Big neon sign. Bright seating area visible through the window.") to set up a primarily descriptive chunk of the book. He displays a great range of voice.
What he doesn't do, however, is finish his story. My creative writing teacher from fall quarter intimated that a story, whether it be in a novel, a piece of short fiction, or even a trilogy, does not convey a life story. It only presents something that happened within a specific window of time in a specific place to specific people. The one caveat I add to this is that a story has a conclusion. I'm sure everyone saw something like this in elementary school. Note the final part: resolution.
Murakami weaves a multi-thread narrative up until the final few chapters. He ends the story when daylight comes, so that the entirety of the book takes place, as the title says, "after dark." There's one problem though: it doesn't conclude any of the narratives.
A Chinese prostitute is mugged, and the organized crime group she works for promises to hunt down the assailant.
A damn-she's-fine Japanese girl has been sleeping for two months and gets sucked into a nightmare reality inside her TV.
Said damn-she's-fine Japanese girl's younger sister runs into some guy who plays trombone.
The publisher's summary, found on the front flap of the dust jacket, reads thus:
These "night people" are haunted by secrets and needs that draw them together more powerfully than the differing circumstances that might keep them apart, and it soon becomes clear that Eri's slumber--mysteriously tied to the businessman plagued by the mark of his crime--will either restore or annihilate her.
Okay, fine. Except we never learn how Eri's slumber is tied to the businessman, only that it is. We don't know if it restores or annihilates her. We dont' know what becomes with this businessman. The novel ends (it doesn't resolve or conclude, it just stops): "The night has begun to open up at last. There will be time until the next darkness arrives."
Murakami, "modern master." Let's take a look at the "old" masters: Shakespeare, Dickens, Hugo, Austen. Or the great legends: The Odyssey, The Aeneid. You know what? Shakespeare's plays have a final act. Dickens' novels have a definitive conclusion. Hugo's books finalize the social injustice. Austen's novels resolve the love disputes. The Odyssey doesn't end with Odysseus landing on Ithaca; it ends with him banishing the vulture suitors to his "widowed" wife. The Aeneid doesn't end when Troy falls; it ends when Aeneas kills Turnus--but we know that Virgil didn't finish the poem, 'cause he died.
The masters resolve their loose ends, tie up their conflicts. Murakami is a great writer, but a master he is not. So the fact that he garners such high praise baffles me when you put him next to the standards. Clearly the standards have been lowered or completely schucked aside. Somewhere, we stopped caring about standards, and it leads to a disturbing dissatisfaction with the world. We, as people, crave a complete story. Story is what drives us in everything, even in a day-to-day job, it is the story of tasks assigned and completed, the triumph of providing for a family. When we ignore our deepest desire because someone once told us that there is no end, that is something wrong with the world. We need to seek an end.
I'm usually not so crass as this, but when I boil everything away, all that needs to be said is this: f*@! postmodern literature.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
First Principles
The quote is this: contra negantem prima principia non esse disputandum. In English: one should not dispute with those who disagree on first principles.
In context, Luther was referring to arguing with those who disagree on Biblical authority. The Maverick criticizes this take on theological debate, but goes on to apply it to the nature of truth. There is an absolute truth, and anyone who disputes that ought to be ignored, as arguing is merely a waste.
I agree with Dr. Vallicella on his second point, but I can't help but be irked at the simplistic response to the first. Luther was hardly an intellectual lightweight, and it does not seem particularly charitable to characterize this as a misapplication, and I have lately been exposed via experience to the wisdom of this quote of Luther's.
I belong to TheologyWeb where "we debate theology...seriously!" I am fascinated by apologetics, ethics and the nature of theological (and by correlation philosophical) truth. It was therefore hardly a surprise that I ended up finding myself drawn to discussions on the nature of God with Muslims, who explicity deny the Trinity and Christ's divinity. Now, I am okay with this if they are willing to debate from a Biblical foundation. The catch is that they are not.
It has been my observation that the entirety of Christian doctrine is principally a straw man Islamic construction. For example, in a thread on the Trinity, I invoked the Narnian Trilemma citing Jesus explicit and implicit claims to godhood in the Gospels, saying that Muslims could either revoke Jesus as a prophet of Islam or accept Christianity. Naturally, if they chose the former, the claim to Abrahamic succession falls flat and Muhammad becomes a standalone prophet. In response, a member effectively said "Muslims don't believe in the Gospels, so your argument doesn't count." He then went on to speak of gnostic writings and pseudepigrapha which are historically removed from the life of Jesus by at least a hundred years, whereas the Gospels are removed from Jesus by at most 50 years.
So, here is Islam saying they reject the most historically reliable sources, and when Old Testament is cited instead, they state that the Old Testament was corrupted by Jewish tradition instead of faithfulness to the actual revelation of God, therefore it was unacceptable. Try applying the same argument to the Koran, and you get shouted down because the Koran is the word of God.
I have since started to ignore any posts challenging Christian theological constructions from Muslims. When someone disputes first principles, it can be addressed such that this first principle can be shown to be true or false. (For example, I can disagree whether the Bible is true or false.) However, once a person denies first principles, it is pointless to argue with them as no argument, even from an Islamic contextual understanding (e.g. that all Biblical prophets are prophets of Islam), proves useful.
One really should not dispute with those who deny first principles. It's a waste of time.
Monday, February 19, 2007
From the Mouths of Babes
The mention of "existential angst" in my previous post brought to mind something that had me suppressing my own laughter in church this past Sunday. I was using my audial aptitude and technical skills to master the sound during service (in non-geek terms: running the "sound board"), which included singing by our church's children's choir.
Now, I wish for a moment I could remember the title of the song, or even more of the lyrics, but there was something immensely humorous about hearing first- thru sixth-graders utter the words "I cannot do this alone / Say I'm forgiven." What incredible existential angst from elementary schoolers! I doubt any of them realized the gravitas of the song, or why that guy in the back who was controlling their soloists' microphones was hunched over with a gentle rolling motion running through his body from stomach to shoulders, but upon reflection, there is something more heartbreaking than humorous about this song.
These kids do not at present understand the grave theological truth that they indeed "cannot do this alone." They don't realize how true it is that their sins cry out to the Living God of their own humanity, of the brokenness they have existed in since the moment they were conceived. Now, it is heartbreaking, the human condition, but what makes this song heartbreaking is that our children do not understand. They utter empty words, they sing, and their parents smile and clap...but no one cried, and I think now crying may have been a more appropriate response to the song's sentiment.
We say we want to protect our children's innocence, but the truth is, the very concept that they are innocent is a standing fallacy, if not an outright lie. Thankfully, the gift of the Spirit and baptism (Greek baptizo, the washing) is a "gift for you and your children." Does that mean we should expose them to all the more sin? Indeed not, as Paul notes in Romans. Yet I think we ought to instill in everyone the sad truth of their being.
I will attempt to the get the lyrics to the song they sang so I can post them in the near future.
I Deny the Holy Spirit...
The Blasphemy Challenge is fairly old news for the religion/philosophy blog circuit, but I've been wasting time at work today and it involved a good deal of incidental reading of material regarding it on various blogs and even news sites. I think it started at IrContent where Doug Beaumont chided the "Rational Response Squad" (the
First of all, blaspheming the Holy Spirit in the context it appears in the Gospels is the attribution of Jesus' divine authority to the power of Satan. That is to say Jesus drove out demons and healed people by the power of God and the direction of His omnipotent Spirit; but a blasphemer would say Jesus ordered about demons and cured diseases because the Devil gave Him this power. But there is something more to it than that, insofar as something that has been revealed as True (note capital T) is denied by one who knows it to be true. Essentially, it would be an effective an exercise of doxastic voluntarism (if such a thing can/does exist) against the One True God. It would be akin to me saying, having read Scripture, prayed, seen the work of God, come to believe and know His Truth, that He does not exist at all.
However, this post does not concern definitions and how silly the aforementioned Rational Response Squad is being. I actually wrote this fine monologue. See, the RRS says the video must explicitly state "I deny the Holy Spirit," using those exact words, to claim a free DVD of The God Who Wasn't There. If I am to read this exhortation correctly, it requires a declarative statement in that exact sentence structure. So, for anyone with a webcam who feels like getting a free DVD and perhaps subverting the Blasphemy Challenge from within, perhaps you can say this:
The God my church taught me about in Sunday school doesn't exist. He didn't pour out a million dollars when I prayed for it, even though it says "anything you ask in my name will be given to you." He doesn't "love the little children, all the children of the world." I remember the story of Noah that they taught: flooding the world, which must have involved in some dry, rocky locations flash floods, sweeping small children out of the arms of their mothers, only to dash them, terrified and screaming, against craggy rocks to instantaneous death. But that would require that book being true, which it isn't, because that god doesn't exist.
I deny the Holy Spirit.
[Beat.]
If you thought that was the end of my video, where I stared intently at the web camera as if to convey my teenage rebellion and existential angst in a moment of silent, solemn certainty, you were wrong. The God I learned about in Sunday school doesn't exist. That much is true. My God isn't a childhood image concocted to make me feel good.
He is a God of Wrath and a God of Love. He sent a flood into the world that really did dash screaming children against craggy rocks. But then He sent another child into the world, His Son. Jesus did worse than suffer instantaneous death after a brief, terrified moment. He endured agony on a cross, a crown of thorns affixed to His head, the strain on His arms tearing open the barely scabbed over wounds of being whipped as blood and sweat flowed commingling down His back, gasping for air, nails in His hands and feet. How much worse than that baby in the age of Noah!
This is not a children's story, this is not foolish. This is what is to understand reality--the need for a Creator God, further on to the need for a moral force, which requires something intensely personal. And since this world is so screwed up, it seems intellectually (and personally) convenient to think that God loves enough to save us.
Now give me my free DVD for saying "I deny the Holy Spirit."