Advent doesn't seem to make a lot of sense to us. I remember, growing up in a Baptist church (nothing against Baptists, many Christians do this), that Advent was just kind of something we were supposed to do on the Sundays in December, but what was really important was Christmas, because Christmas, of course, is the day Jesus was born. Kind of like celebrating a birthday. But what was up with this whole Advent thing? We didn't get into it through the whole four weeks leading up to Christmas; we just kind of touched on it on Sundays, and had some songs we only sang during Advent, like O Come, O Come Emmanuel.
So why do we celebrate Advent every year? Why is it part of the Christian calendar? Christmas makes sense; it's an anniversary, sort of like we're giving a birthday party for Jesus each year. We understand birthday parties. But Advent isn't like that. Advent is a reminder.
Not a reminder like leaving yourself a Post-It to remind you to pick up some milk tomorrow. Advent is a reminder in the same way that Chesterton says in Orthodoxy that fairy stories are a reminder: "These tales say that apples were golden only to refresh the forgotten moment when we found that they were green. They make rivers run with wine only to make us remember, for one wild moment, that they run with water." Fairy stories remind us of something that we have forgotten; they take us into a thing so deeply that we remember it as if seeing it for the first time.
Advent is a reminder. In celebrating Advent, we remember the coming of Christ. We become, as it were, one of those people of whom Isaiah speaks: "The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light: they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined" (9:2). We remember what it was like before Christ came, and what, to some extent, it is still like until Christ comes a second time. We live in darkness. But we are waiting for the light.
Sunday, December 1, 2013
Thursday, November 21, 2013
"Ambivert" Isn't a Word
I've seen a couple articles in the last couple months talking about a personality trait called "ambiversion," and people called "ambiverts." This is supposed to be in contrast to the typical extraverts and introverts that we've heard so much about, primarily through pop personality tests like Myers-Briggs. But ambiverts don't exist.
Many people seem to completely misunderstand how the Myers-Briggs test works. They think that, if they're classified as an introvert or an extravert, then they're an introvert or an extravert all the time, 100%, no ands or buts. That's simply not true, and the bona fide Myers-Briggs test has never claimed that. (If you're taking free rip-off online tests, I can't speak for those.) What the MBTI assessment tells you is what you do most of the time.
Personally, I'm an INFJ. I've read a number of generalized descriptions of INFJs, and each time I think, "How do they know me so well? I do all these things just about all the time." But if you look carefully at the descriptions, what you see won't be someone who's always acting introverted and never wanting to be around people. If you look at a more complete and detailed MBTI summary (I like this one), then you'll see that each personality type has four functions: primary, secondary, tertiary, and inferior.
As an INFJ, my primary function is Introverted iNtuition. This is completely true of me. I more often than not prefer to be alone or maybe with a couple people I know well. I like reading and watching TV shows by myself (sometimes). Also, the way I tend to understand the world is very intuitive. I get a big picture feel a lot of the time, and have difficulty picking out details or explaining things to other people, because I just sort of get it all at once and don't know how I got there. In general, I most easily and most often process the world intuitively and when I'm by myself.
My secondary function is Extraverted Feeling. I am very much a feeler, and I have a tendency to go off of moods and feelings. (I think this ties in with being intuitive, but I'm not sure.) And yes, I do like being around people fairly often. I don't meet new people very easily (only the most naturally extraverted do, it seems), and I don't like being around large crowds of people I don't know, but you put me in a room with forty people who I'm basically acquainted with and I usually have fun for a while, without any particular strain. This, despite the fact that I'm an INFJ. Yes, I do have an extraverted side; no, I'm not limited to being only an introvert all the time.
My tertiary (third-ranked) function is Introverted Thinking, and my inferior is Extraverted Sensing. Basically, I'm very bad at acting like an extraverted senser, probably because INFJs tend to be very intuitive. (Notice that Extraverted Sensing, ES, is the opposite of Introverted iNtuiting, IN.) But, at the same time, I'm not very strongly an introvert. I tend in that direction, but I also like people a lot, as long as I know them.
To reiterate, there is no such thing as an ambivert. People who don't resonate with one side or the other are probably just on the middle, a lot like I am. (I'd place myself at something like 60/40 intro/extra. Others are closer to the middle.) But this doesn't mean that you can throw in a third category, just like that. It reflects a large misunderstanding of what Myers-Briggs is claiming to do.
For what it's worth, personality tests also aren't a foolproof guide to understanding a person. They're more like a foundation to build your relationship on. I like understanding myself and other people, but tests and facts aren't a replacement for really knowing someone. So don't put too much stake on whether or not you're an introvert, an extravert, or this newly-invented ambivert.
Many people seem to completely misunderstand how the Myers-Briggs test works. They think that, if they're classified as an introvert or an extravert, then they're an introvert or an extravert all the time, 100%, no ands or buts. That's simply not true, and the bona fide Myers-Briggs test has never claimed that. (If you're taking free rip-off online tests, I can't speak for those.) What the MBTI assessment tells you is what you do most of the time.
Personally, I'm an INFJ. I've read a number of generalized descriptions of INFJs, and each time I think, "How do they know me so well? I do all these things just about all the time." But if you look carefully at the descriptions, what you see won't be someone who's always acting introverted and never wanting to be around people. If you look at a more complete and detailed MBTI summary (I like this one), then you'll see that each personality type has four functions: primary, secondary, tertiary, and inferior.
As an INFJ, my primary function is Introverted iNtuition. This is completely true of me. I more often than not prefer to be alone or maybe with a couple people I know well. I like reading and watching TV shows by myself (sometimes). Also, the way I tend to understand the world is very intuitive. I get a big picture feel a lot of the time, and have difficulty picking out details or explaining things to other people, because I just sort of get it all at once and don't know how I got there. In general, I most easily and most often process the world intuitively and when I'm by myself.
My secondary function is Extraverted Feeling. I am very much a feeler, and I have a tendency to go off of moods and feelings. (I think this ties in with being intuitive, but I'm not sure.) And yes, I do like being around people fairly often. I don't meet new people very easily (only the most naturally extraverted do, it seems), and I don't like being around large crowds of people I don't know, but you put me in a room with forty people who I'm basically acquainted with and I usually have fun for a while, without any particular strain. This, despite the fact that I'm an INFJ. Yes, I do have an extraverted side; no, I'm not limited to being only an introvert all the time.
My tertiary (third-ranked) function is Introverted Thinking, and my inferior is Extraverted Sensing. Basically, I'm very bad at acting like an extraverted senser, probably because INFJs tend to be very intuitive. (Notice that Extraverted Sensing, ES, is the opposite of Introverted iNtuiting, IN.) But, at the same time, I'm not very strongly an introvert. I tend in that direction, but I also like people a lot, as long as I know them.
To reiterate, there is no such thing as an ambivert. People who don't resonate with one side or the other are probably just on the middle, a lot like I am. (I'd place myself at something like 60/40 intro/extra. Others are closer to the middle.) But this doesn't mean that you can throw in a third category, just like that. It reflects a large misunderstanding of what Myers-Briggs is claiming to do.
For what it's worth, personality tests also aren't a foolproof guide to understanding a person. They're more like a foundation to build your relationship on. I like understanding myself and other people, but tests and facts aren't a replacement for really knowing someone. So don't put too much stake on whether or not you're an introvert, an extravert, or this newly-invented ambivert.
Sunday, July 21, 2013
Racism and Unity
The Trayvon Martin case has been on my mind recently, as I know it has for a lot of people. The issue of racism is still being talked about, fifty years after the major civil rights movement in the 60s. Racism still exists. It still causes problems. But let's keep something in mind: racism is not just whites hating blacks; it's also blacks hating whites, Hispanic people hating whites, Asians hating blacks—anything like that. It's any time we make race a basis for judging someone, especially unfairly. (For what it's worth, the Martin/Zimmerman case isn't white vs. black; Zimmerman has, from what I've heard, an Afro-Brazilian heritage. So let's stop talking about this as a black and white situation. It isn't, in either sense of the phrase.)
What I've noticed, I think more importantly, is how divided we are on this issue, even among Christians. One of my (white) friends stated that this case was not one of racism, and we ought not to call it such because it cheapens the situations that actually are racism. He was immediately jumped on by black friends because he "couldn't possibly understand," and also by some more liberal white friends for things like "ignoring" or "overlooking" racism.
Perhaps they have a point. I'm more likely to agree with the first friend, but I also speak from the same perspective that he does. Perhaps he and I are missing something here. But what stands out to me is the division.
Truth is important. People hurting is important. We ought not to ignore that. But when it divides us so, something is wrong.
Paul says two rather different things on this subject, that I think nevertheless mesh very well, and end by encompassing how we ought to live. The first is found in Ephesians 4: "Therefore I, the prisoner of the Lord, implore you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling with which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, showing tolerance for one another in love, being diligent to preserve the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit, just as also you were called to one hope of your calling; one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all who is over all and through all and in all." Likewise, in 1 Corinthians 12, Paul says, "For even as the body is one and yet has many members, and all the members of the body, though they are many, are one body, so also is Christ. For by one Spirit we were all baptized into one body, whether Jews of Greeks, whether slaves or free, and we were all made to drink of one Spirit." And finally, in Galatians 3: "There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free man, there is neither male nor female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus."
This is powerful. We ought not to be divided. Our unity in Christ goes so far as to override, in a sense, our race, our social status, even our sexuality. We are all ONE in Christ.
But that isn't the only thing Paul says. We are still individual people. We cannot be generalized, we cannot be written off into groups; we must all be recognized as persons, distinct and yet united. Right after the above-quoted passage from 1 Corinthians, he continues:
We are unified, and yet distinct, as the Trinity is one and yet three. We are all different; good! We ought to be. We each bring different things to the Church, to the body of Christ. But we must also be one. We must be united in love for each other and for God. Let us not forget that the next time we see cries of racism; for our brothers and sisters are hurting. Let us not forget that the next time we see cries of inequality among the sexes; for our brothers and sisters are hurting. And yet, let us remember that we are different, and intended to be so. The way I am when I am most myself is not the way you should be when you are most yourself, but we should all be one in Christ, where we are all most as God made us to be.
So, please: Pray for one another. Love one another. Be different, but be one.
What I've noticed, I think more importantly, is how divided we are on this issue, even among Christians. One of my (white) friends stated that this case was not one of racism, and we ought not to call it such because it cheapens the situations that actually are racism. He was immediately jumped on by black friends because he "couldn't possibly understand," and also by some more liberal white friends for things like "ignoring" or "overlooking" racism.
Perhaps they have a point. I'm more likely to agree with the first friend, but I also speak from the same perspective that he does. Perhaps he and I are missing something here. But what stands out to me is the division.
Truth is important. People hurting is important. We ought not to ignore that. But when it divides us so, something is wrong.
Paul says two rather different things on this subject, that I think nevertheless mesh very well, and end by encompassing how we ought to live. The first is found in Ephesians 4: "Therefore I, the prisoner of the Lord, implore you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling with which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, showing tolerance for one another in love, being diligent to preserve the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit, just as also you were called to one hope of your calling; one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all who is over all and through all and in all." Likewise, in 1 Corinthians 12, Paul says, "For even as the body is one and yet has many members, and all the members of the body, though they are many, are one body, so also is Christ. For by one Spirit we were all baptized into one body, whether Jews of Greeks, whether slaves or free, and we were all made to drink of one Spirit." And finally, in Galatians 3: "There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free man, there is neither male nor female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus."
This is powerful. We ought not to be divided. Our unity in Christ goes so far as to override, in a sense, our race, our social status, even our sexuality. We are all ONE in Christ.
But that isn't the only thing Paul says. We are still individual people. We cannot be generalized, we cannot be written off into groups; we must all be recognized as persons, distinct and yet united. Right after the above-quoted passage from 1 Corinthians, he continues:
For the body is not one member, but many. If the foot says, "Because I am not a hand, I am not a part of the body," it is not for this reason any the less a part of the body. And if the ear says, "Because I am not an eye, I am not a part of the body," it is not for this reason any the less a part of the body. If the whole body were an eye, where would the hearing be? If the whole were hearing, where would the sense of smell be? But now God has placed the members, each one of them, in the body, just as He desired. If they were all one member, where would the body be? But now there are many members, but one body. And the eye cannot say to the hand, "I have no need of you"; or again the head to the feet, "I have no need of you." On the contrary it is much truer that the members of the body which seem to be weaker are necessary; and those members of the body which we deem less honorable, on these we bestow more abundant honor, and our less presentable members become much more presentable, whereas our more presentable members have no need of it. But God has so composed the body, giving more abundant honor to that member which lacked, so that there may be no division in one body, but that the members may have the same care for one another. And if one member suffers, all the members suffer with it; if one member is honored, all the members rejoice with it. Now you are Christ's body, and individually members of it.Paul is speaking this in the context of spiritual gifts, but it applies just as completely to other issues of division within the body of Christ. In Christ, we are one; Christ himself prays for unity in John 17: "I do not ask on behalf of these alone, but for those also who believe in Me through their word; that they may all be one; even as You, Father, are in Me and I in You, that they also may be in Us, so tha the world may believe that You sent Me." We are to be one with each other and with Christ as Christ is with God. Our unity is to be as complete and as perfect as the unity of the Trinity. How do you get more unified than that?
We are unified, and yet distinct, as the Trinity is one and yet three. We are all different; good! We ought to be. We each bring different things to the Church, to the body of Christ. But we must also be one. We must be united in love for each other and for God. Let us not forget that the next time we see cries of racism; for our brothers and sisters are hurting. Let us not forget that the next time we see cries of inequality among the sexes; for our brothers and sisters are hurting. And yet, let us remember that we are different, and intended to be so. The way I am when I am most myself is not the way you should be when you are most yourself, but we should all be one in Christ, where we are all most as God made us to be.
So, please: Pray for one another. Love one another. Be different, but be one.
Friday, May 17, 2013
Love? Inconceivable!
Yesterday I was reading through the comments section on an article regarding homosexuality in the Church, and I saw a comment, in favor of such monogamous homosexual relationships, which ended by saying, "Love is love is love." Makes sense, right? I mean, if these people love each other, shouldn't we let them get married? Because to love one another is the highest command, right?
...well, no, actually. Not all love is the same. Love is not love is not love. The problem is, in English we have only one word to cover a multitude of uses. But as C. S. Lewis notes in his book The Four Loves, there are, yes, four different kinds of love, at least in the Greek in which the New Testament is written. The problem is that many American Christians, or English-speaking Christians in general, confuse or conflate two or more of the different uses. The word does not mean what they think it means.
That being the case, I think it's important to re-enumerate the four different kinds of love. The first is called στοργή (storge, two syllables with a hard g). This is more usually translated "affection," and is the sort of love we see from parents toward their children (especially mothers), from people towards animals, etc. It's the love of a higher towards a lower, generally. Most people will not get this confused with the others, but it is good to remember it all the same.
The second is called φιλία (philia). This one is more familiar, as we see it regularly in the city name Philadelphia, and in other places. It's the love of friendship, and is sometimes called "brotherly love."
The third is called έρως (eros), which is the one we are most familiar with. This is romantic, often sexual love, and it is generally the one under consideration in discussions of homosexuality. After all, the issue is whether or not people with homosexual eros are allowed to marry and satisfy that eros.
The fourth and final kind of love is called αγάπη (agape, three syllables). This is charitable love; love without hope of reward; self-sacrificing love, love for others that does not expect to be repaid and that desires only the other's good.
This last kind of love is the kind of love we are called to as Christians. John 15:13 says, "Greater agape has no one than this, that one lay down his life for his friends." 1 John 4:8 says, "The one who does not agapen does not know God, for God is agape." This is the love which, as Dante so eloquently says, "moves the sun and the other stars." It is agape love, not eros, or philia, or storge. That is the love to which we are called.
The confusion comes, I think, from people thinking that eros is the same kind of love as that love; but it isn't. There are many times when eros is bad. There are also times when it's great; I'm not denying that. But when I look at pornography, that is a bad use of eros. When I want to have sex with someone else's wife, that is a bad use of eros. Knowing that eros can be misused, and that it certainly is not the same thing as agape, it is not enough for the homosexual proponents to simply say, "Love is love is love." Agape is not eros is not philia. We must know what kind of love we are speaking about, and whether or not it is good in a specific instance.
So people with homosexual desires may have to deny themselves one kind of love. Yes, it is hard to deny a part of ourselves, but most of us will have to, because not all parts of ourselves are good, yet. But that's not the end of the world. Agape is open to all, and is the highest kind of love. And, in addition, I would argue that philia is perhaps better than eros, something we tend to lose sight of in our eros-driven culture. God loves us with agape, and we can love him the same way; but also, God loves us with philia. We are God's friends. Jesus said to his disciples in John 15:15, "No longer do I call you slaves, for the slave does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you philous, for all things that I have heard from My Father I have made known to you."
To that commenter on that article: Love is not love is not love. Homosexual love is not right just because it is love. We must dig deeper; we must find out what love truly is. And the best and most holy kind of love is one that is common to all, even if erotic love is not. Why complain about being forbidden to sing "Mary Had a Little Lamb" when you could sing Handel's Messiah?
...well, no, actually. Not all love is the same. Love is not love is not love. The problem is, in English we have only one word to cover a multitude of uses. But as C. S. Lewis notes in his book The Four Loves, there are, yes, four different kinds of love, at least in the Greek in which the New Testament is written. The problem is that many American Christians, or English-speaking Christians in general, confuse or conflate two or more of the different uses. The word does not mean what they think it means.
That being the case, I think it's important to re-enumerate the four different kinds of love. The first is called στοργή (storge, two syllables with a hard g). This is more usually translated "affection," and is the sort of love we see from parents toward their children (especially mothers), from people towards animals, etc. It's the love of a higher towards a lower, generally. Most people will not get this confused with the others, but it is good to remember it all the same.
The second is called φιλία (philia). This one is more familiar, as we see it regularly in the city name Philadelphia, and in other places. It's the love of friendship, and is sometimes called "brotherly love."
The third is called έρως (eros), which is the one we are most familiar with. This is romantic, often sexual love, and it is generally the one under consideration in discussions of homosexuality. After all, the issue is whether or not people with homosexual eros are allowed to marry and satisfy that eros.
The fourth and final kind of love is called αγάπη (agape, three syllables). This is charitable love; love without hope of reward; self-sacrificing love, love for others that does not expect to be repaid and that desires only the other's good.
This last kind of love is the kind of love we are called to as Christians. John 15:13 says, "Greater agape has no one than this, that one lay down his life for his friends." 1 John 4:8 says, "The one who does not agapen does not know God, for God is agape." This is the love which, as Dante so eloquently says, "moves the sun and the other stars." It is agape love, not eros, or philia, or storge. That is the love to which we are called.
The confusion comes, I think, from people thinking that eros is the same kind of love as that love; but it isn't. There are many times when eros is bad. There are also times when it's great; I'm not denying that. But when I look at pornography, that is a bad use of eros. When I want to have sex with someone else's wife, that is a bad use of eros. Knowing that eros can be misused, and that it certainly is not the same thing as agape, it is not enough for the homosexual proponents to simply say, "Love is love is love." Agape is not eros is not philia. We must know what kind of love we are speaking about, and whether or not it is good in a specific instance.
So people with homosexual desires may have to deny themselves one kind of love. Yes, it is hard to deny a part of ourselves, but most of us will have to, because not all parts of ourselves are good, yet. But that's not the end of the world. Agape is open to all, and is the highest kind of love. And, in addition, I would argue that philia is perhaps better than eros, something we tend to lose sight of in our eros-driven culture. God loves us with agape, and we can love him the same way; but also, God loves us with philia. We are God's friends. Jesus said to his disciples in John 15:15, "No longer do I call you slaves, for the slave does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you philous, for all things that I have heard from My Father I have made known to you."
To that commenter on that article: Love is not love is not love. Homosexual love is not right just because it is love. We must dig deeper; we must find out what love truly is. And the best and most holy kind of love is one that is common to all, even if erotic love is not. Why complain about being forbidden to sing "Mary Had a Little Lamb" when you could sing Handel's Messiah?
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Men Without Chests
Modern Christianity seems to have lost something, even as we have gained something else. My dad remarked a couple days ago that we tend to think we're in a wrestling match, when we're really in a beauty pageant. Recently, Christianity—especially Protestantism, in my experience—has put great emphasis on proving Christianity through logic, showing how it is necessary that God exist and even that he be three persons in one God, how it was necessary that Christ come to die to save us from our sins, etc. (Don't get me wrong; this isn't new. I first started seriously thinking about this while reading Aquinas and the other Scholastics from ~800 years ago. But it seems to be getting more prevalent recently.) We go into debates with leading atheists and prove them wrong and ourselves right. And then we wonder why not everyone is turning to Christianity.
I'd like to suggest that not everyone is turning to Christianity because, as my dad said, we're actually in a beauty pageant. People may be completely convinced of the strict rational truth of the Christian faith, but we aren't presenting it in such a way that they'll want to believe in it. We have forgotten that people are whole people, not just brains. As C. S. Lewis said in The Abolition of Man, about a different subject at the time but in a way which is very applicable here, many modern Christians have become "men without chests." And, unfortunately, I would have to say with him that "it is not excess of thought but defect of fertile and generous emotion that marks them out. Their heads are no bigger than the ordinary: it is the atrophy of the chest beneath that makes them seem so." We have lost our hearts for the sake of our heads.
Atheism, on the other hand, is, I am convinced, logically inconsistent. There are many holes in it; but the way it is presented, people want to believe in it, at least in opposition to Christianity. We have done such a bad job of making Christianity attractive that people don't want to believe in it even when it makes more "sense" than anything else out there. In fact, we have almost made it deliberately unattractive. Christianity has ended up like a warehouse or a parking structure: perfectly functional, very useful, doing what we need it to do, but so ugly that no one would ever want to live there. Atheism, on the other hand, is like a building that is beautiful but horribly unsafe, that will ultimately kill us if we live in it, but which is so much better than the other alternative that we can't imagine choosing anything else.
We need a third option. The ancient Church, I think, was both beautiful AND stable/functional. Imagine a cathedral. Those are some of the strongest buildings built. Picture the soaring arches and spires that somehow manage to hang suspended there because of the great foundation and support. And yet they are beautiful; immeasurably, incredibly, wonderfully beautiful. How if the Church were still like that today? We might see people flocking to us from every side, because not only is our faith true and good, it is also beautiful.
I think some Christians are starting to realize this now, for which I am glad. Churches are promoting the arts again, which has hardly been done in a big way since before the Reformation. Perhaps we are finally remembering what Plato, Pascal, Chesterton, Lewis, and others knew: that we are whole souls, body, heart, and mind coming together into one person, and that we cannot leave one behind for the sake of another.
And that's something else to remember: The logic we've discovered, the knowledge we have pursued, are not bad things in themselves. It is right to desire to know God, for when we love others, we want to know them better; and so we ought to strive to know God, as far as our feeble faculties will allow us to. But we must remember not to forget the beauty which God has placed around us and within us, for that is another way that we may know him. As Romans 1 says, God has made himself known to us through his handiwork; not only through the order of the world, but also through its beauty. We are whole people, whole souls. Let us not forget that. Rather, let us strive to pursue all that is good, all that is true, and all that is beautiful. And then, perhaps, people will see Christianity for what it truly is, and see God for who he truly is.
I'd like to suggest that not everyone is turning to Christianity because, as my dad said, we're actually in a beauty pageant. People may be completely convinced of the strict rational truth of the Christian faith, but we aren't presenting it in such a way that they'll want to believe in it. We have forgotten that people are whole people, not just brains. As C. S. Lewis said in The Abolition of Man, about a different subject at the time but in a way which is very applicable here, many modern Christians have become "men without chests." And, unfortunately, I would have to say with him that "it is not excess of thought but defect of fertile and generous emotion that marks them out. Their heads are no bigger than the ordinary: it is the atrophy of the chest beneath that makes them seem so." We have lost our hearts for the sake of our heads.
Atheism, on the other hand, is, I am convinced, logically inconsistent. There are many holes in it; but the way it is presented, people want to believe in it, at least in opposition to Christianity. We have done such a bad job of making Christianity attractive that people don't want to believe in it even when it makes more "sense" than anything else out there. In fact, we have almost made it deliberately unattractive. Christianity has ended up like a warehouse or a parking structure: perfectly functional, very useful, doing what we need it to do, but so ugly that no one would ever want to live there. Atheism, on the other hand, is like a building that is beautiful but horribly unsafe, that will ultimately kill us if we live in it, but which is so much better than the other alternative that we can't imagine choosing anything else.
We need a third option. The ancient Church, I think, was both beautiful AND stable/functional. Imagine a cathedral. Those are some of the strongest buildings built. Picture the soaring arches and spires that somehow manage to hang suspended there because of the great foundation and support. And yet they are beautiful; immeasurably, incredibly, wonderfully beautiful. How if the Church were still like that today? We might see people flocking to us from every side, because not only is our faith true and good, it is also beautiful.
I think some Christians are starting to realize this now, for which I am glad. Churches are promoting the arts again, which has hardly been done in a big way since before the Reformation. Perhaps we are finally remembering what Plato, Pascal, Chesterton, Lewis, and others knew: that we are whole souls, body, heart, and mind coming together into one person, and that we cannot leave one behind for the sake of another.
And that's something else to remember: The logic we've discovered, the knowledge we have pursued, are not bad things in themselves. It is right to desire to know God, for when we love others, we want to know them better; and so we ought to strive to know God, as far as our feeble faculties will allow us to. But we must remember not to forget the beauty which God has placed around us and within us, for that is another way that we may know him. As Romans 1 says, God has made himself known to us through his handiwork; not only through the order of the world, but also through its beauty. We are whole people, whole souls. Let us not forget that. Rather, let us strive to pursue all that is good, all that is true, and all that is beautiful. And then, perhaps, people will see Christianity for what it truly is, and see God for who he truly is.
Friday, April 26, 2013
Math, Video Games, and Rejection
Many of my friends now wouldn't know it, but in middle school, I always expected to do something with my life that was related to math. I did math competitions and worked my way well ahead of grade level through independent study. Something of that changed in high school, but I've still sort of wondered why I was so interested in math, and why I liked it so much; in fact, why I do still like it so much.
I've also sometimes wondered why I like video games so much. There's something about them that makes them easy to go to, no matter how I'm feeling, and I've basically grown up playing them. In the end, I think the two are connected, but how they are takes some telling.
Math is a very concrete thing. It has as many wrong answers as you want, but only one right answer, and if you follow the right steps, you'll always find the right answer. There's no variation, no instability. It makes sense, at least to me.
The problem is that people aren't like that. People are complicated and confusing. There is no right answer to a person. We are variable. We can very easily be unstable, changing, and just plain strange. People are not problems to be solved, not things to be used. We are made in the image of God, and that is a great and a terrible thing.
With that in mind, it's kind of strange that I decided in college to be an author. I'm diving headfirst into a world of characters, who are theoretically my own creations, to do with as I want, but who easily develop personalities of their own that do not always bend to my will, strange as that may seem. There are some things I can't get my tough-skinned mercenary to do, no matter how much I want to, if I'm being true to the characters and to the story. And, beyond that, I have to deal with editors and agents and readers. I have to find someone to take and publish my books so that people will be able to read them. It's hard.
Video games link them together, in a way. The games I like tend to be the ones that have a lot of story to them, especially RPGs. (For those who may not know, an RPG in this case is not a rocket-propelled grenade; it's a role-playing game. Typically, one where you control one character or a small group who do quests and grow in levels as they gain experience and that sort of thing.) I told myself for a while that I mostly played these games for the rich story aspect. There's also an element of simply enjoying the colorful, imaginary worlds that are often created for these games.
And while that is still mostly true, I think there are a couple other reasons. One is that video games are mathematical. They're rooted in computer code, which has to be written a certain way for things to work. They also function, foundationally, on mathematical models. In an RPG, my character will gain another level (a fixed number) after gaining a certain amount of experience (another fixed number), experience which I earn in specified amounts by doing certain things. I complete a number of quests for various people or reasons. My characters equip armor and weapons which have certain statistics to make them stronger and defeat more difficult enemies.
It's all very mathematical, when you look at it that way. I think that helps me. Video games can't just decide not to give me experience for something, or arbitrarily become much harder to kill off my characters (unless that's programmed into the game, in which case I can "expect" it). It's a way that I can pull back from the real world for a little while and just do something that's easy, something that doesn't drain me constantly, that doesn't hurt me at times. I don't know if that's good or bad. It's certainly a trade-off; I miss out on the glory and wonder of individual people, and we are glorious and wonderful indeed, when we can see it. And yet, as an introvert, it's comforting not to have to worry about that for a while.
There's one other thing that's very important, that I touched on in the last paragraph. Video games don't really hurt me; at least, not much, or not often. But in my life, I've gone through a lot of rejection. I've been rejected from doing most of the things I love to do, from working at a summer camp that changed my life when I was a student there, to publishing books, to dating, to playing roles in shows, and it's so hard that sometimes I have to retreat into something that (usually) won't reject me.
But I know I can't stay there. I know I am a person made in the image of God, made for either eternal glory or eternal despair, for either salvation or damnation, and that I am surrounded by others just like me. I have to go back out into the world and be with these people, because, in the end, I am made for relation, not isolation. Math is easy because it's concrete; relation is hard, because it's with other people who are confusing and changeable and strange and not like me. But at the same time, it's so much better than anything else. So I go back out, and I live, and I am hurt, and I retreat, and then I go back out again. And someday, when all is stripped away, I will see my fellow human beings for what they are, and see myself for what I am, and I will see that One of whom we are the image.
I've also sometimes wondered why I like video games so much. There's something about them that makes them easy to go to, no matter how I'm feeling, and I've basically grown up playing them. In the end, I think the two are connected, but how they are takes some telling.
Math is a very concrete thing. It has as many wrong answers as you want, but only one right answer, and if you follow the right steps, you'll always find the right answer. There's no variation, no instability. It makes sense, at least to me.
The problem is that people aren't like that. People are complicated and confusing. There is no right answer to a person. We are variable. We can very easily be unstable, changing, and just plain strange. People are not problems to be solved, not things to be used. We are made in the image of God, and that is a great and a terrible thing.
With that in mind, it's kind of strange that I decided in college to be an author. I'm diving headfirst into a world of characters, who are theoretically my own creations, to do with as I want, but who easily develop personalities of their own that do not always bend to my will, strange as that may seem. There are some things I can't get my tough-skinned mercenary to do, no matter how much I want to, if I'm being true to the characters and to the story. And, beyond that, I have to deal with editors and agents and readers. I have to find someone to take and publish my books so that people will be able to read them. It's hard.
Video games link them together, in a way. The games I like tend to be the ones that have a lot of story to them, especially RPGs. (For those who may not know, an RPG in this case is not a rocket-propelled grenade; it's a role-playing game. Typically, one where you control one character or a small group who do quests and grow in levels as they gain experience and that sort of thing.) I told myself for a while that I mostly played these games for the rich story aspect. There's also an element of simply enjoying the colorful, imaginary worlds that are often created for these games.
And while that is still mostly true, I think there are a couple other reasons. One is that video games are mathematical. They're rooted in computer code, which has to be written a certain way for things to work. They also function, foundationally, on mathematical models. In an RPG, my character will gain another level (a fixed number) after gaining a certain amount of experience (another fixed number), experience which I earn in specified amounts by doing certain things. I complete a number of quests for various people or reasons. My characters equip armor and weapons which have certain statistics to make them stronger and defeat more difficult enemies.
It's all very mathematical, when you look at it that way. I think that helps me. Video games can't just decide not to give me experience for something, or arbitrarily become much harder to kill off my characters (unless that's programmed into the game, in which case I can "expect" it). It's a way that I can pull back from the real world for a little while and just do something that's easy, something that doesn't drain me constantly, that doesn't hurt me at times. I don't know if that's good or bad. It's certainly a trade-off; I miss out on the glory and wonder of individual people, and we are glorious and wonderful indeed, when we can see it. And yet, as an introvert, it's comforting not to have to worry about that for a while.
There's one other thing that's very important, that I touched on in the last paragraph. Video games don't really hurt me; at least, not much, or not often. But in my life, I've gone through a lot of rejection. I've been rejected from doing most of the things I love to do, from working at a summer camp that changed my life when I was a student there, to publishing books, to dating, to playing roles in shows, and it's so hard that sometimes I have to retreat into something that (usually) won't reject me.
But I know I can't stay there. I know I am a person made in the image of God, made for either eternal glory or eternal despair, for either salvation or damnation, and that I am surrounded by others just like me. I have to go back out into the world and be with these people, because, in the end, I am made for relation, not isolation. Math is easy because it's concrete; relation is hard, because it's with other people who are confusing and changeable and strange and not like me. But at the same time, it's so much better than anything else. So I go back out, and I live, and I am hurt, and I retreat, and then I go back out again. And someday, when all is stripped away, I will see my fellow human beings for what they are, and see myself for what I am, and I will see that One of whom we are the image.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
The Great Schism of Our Age
There have been a lot of debates recently, particularly on the issues of homosexual marriage but also in a number of other fields—recent articles regarding Thomas Nagel's book Mind and Cosmos come to mind. All of these debates seem to me to have something major in common: The opposite sides can't come to agreement, and can't even understand each other, because they argue from completely different premises. And I don't just mean, for example, the Christian view vs. the non-Christian view, the premise that God exists, or the like, though these are related.
C. S. Lewis, in his book Mere Christianity, notes that, when we are observing something from outside, all we can say about it is what is. Rocks fall downward. Ought they to? Well, we can't really answer that question. We just know that they do, because of this unseen force we call gravity. Ice is cold. Ought it to be? We don't know. It just is, because it has a lower temperature than our bodies do.
When we come to humanity, all that we can tell by observing it, in a sense, from outside, is what we do, what we are; not what we ought to be, if there is such a thing. Recently, I saw a friend of a friend talking on Facebook about how there are more than two genders, how not every man is an XY and not every woman is an XX, etc. More broadly (no longer in that one post), how some people experience same-sex attraction. More broadly still, how some people naturally want to do things that the majority of people do not, or are something that the majority of people are not. This is very true. This is the case. But ought it to be?
Christianity tells us not only what we are, but what we ought to be and to do. On the other hand, many people seem to be arguing only from what is. The problem is, there is no way we can logically get from "is" to "ought." I cannot say, "The sun is bright, therefore it ought to be," or, "The sun is bright, but it ought to be dark." That makes no sense. And yet this is how we tend to encounter each other over these divisive issues. One side says, "The Bible says we ought to be this way, so you're wrong," while the other side is busy saying, "This is the way we are, so you're wrong." But we aren't arguing from the same premises. One side assumes a second premise which the other side doesn't: that the way we are is not the way we ought to be. But until we agree on our premises, we cannot discuss the conclusion.
I think the way we are is not the way we ought to be. I think there are signs pointing to that all over the place. It is not right that I yell at video games when I'm frustrated and disturb the people around me, yet I still do it. The is is one thing, and the ought is another. Going a step farther, as a (fallen) heterosexual man, I have a positive desire (in the existential sense, not the moral sense) to look at naked women. It is not something I always do, and yet it is a "natural" desire in me. But most people in the world would agree that this is not what I ought to desire (and it is something I would get rid of entirely if I could, at least outside of a marriage).
So ought and is are two different things; but we cannot argue, logically, from one to the other. We first need a standard by which to measure the is, and this standard is exactly what one side denies. One side says, "Yes, some people have same-sex attraction, but they ought not to"; the other side says, "Yes, some people have same-sex attraction, therefore there's nothing wrong with it simply because that's the way it is."
What then? I think this second premise, the standard by which to measure the is, is what we're really arguing over, but we never quite get that out in the open. I hope I have. The next time you see someone who disagrees with your views, think about where you're really disagreeing. Maybe we can have real discussions about things, and not talk past each other as much. Because until we agree with regard to that standard, any discussing will be fruitless.
C. S. Lewis, in his book Mere Christianity, notes that, when we are observing something from outside, all we can say about it is what is. Rocks fall downward. Ought they to? Well, we can't really answer that question. We just know that they do, because of this unseen force we call gravity. Ice is cold. Ought it to be? We don't know. It just is, because it has a lower temperature than our bodies do.
When we come to humanity, all that we can tell by observing it, in a sense, from outside, is what we do, what we are; not what we ought to be, if there is such a thing. Recently, I saw a friend of a friend talking on Facebook about how there are more than two genders, how not every man is an XY and not every woman is an XX, etc. More broadly (no longer in that one post), how some people experience same-sex attraction. More broadly still, how some people naturally want to do things that the majority of people do not, or are something that the majority of people are not. This is very true. This is the case. But ought it to be?
Christianity tells us not only what we are, but what we ought to be and to do. On the other hand, many people seem to be arguing only from what is. The problem is, there is no way we can logically get from "is" to "ought." I cannot say, "The sun is bright, therefore it ought to be," or, "The sun is bright, but it ought to be dark." That makes no sense. And yet this is how we tend to encounter each other over these divisive issues. One side says, "The Bible says we ought to be this way, so you're wrong," while the other side is busy saying, "This is the way we are, so you're wrong." But we aren't arguing from the same premises. One side assumes a second premise which the other side doesn't: that the way we are is not the way we ought to be. But until we agree on our premises, we cannot discuss the conclusion.
I think the way we are is not the way we ought to be. I think there are signs pointing to that all over the place. It is not right that I yell at video games when I'm frustrated and disturb the people around me, yet I still do it. The is is one thing, and the ought is another. Going a step farther, as a (fallen) heterosexual man, I have a positive desire (in the existential sense, not the moral sense) to look at naked women. It is not something I always do, and yet it is a "natural" desire in me. But most people in the world would agree that this is not what I ought to desire (and it is something I would get rid of entirely if I could, at least outside of a marriage).
So ought and is are two different things; but we cannot argue, logically, from one to the other. We first need a standard by which to measure the is, and this standard is exactly what one side denies. One side says, "Yes, some people have same-sex attraction, but they ought not to"; the other side says, "Yes, some people have same-sex attraction, therefore there's nothing wrong with it simply because that's the way it is."
What then? I think this second premise, the standard by which to measure the is, is what we're really arguing over, but we never quite get that out in the open. I hope I have. The next time you see someone who disagrees with your views, think about where you're really disagreeing. Maybe we can have real discussions about things, and not talk past each other as much. Because until we agree with regard to that standard, any discussing will be fruitless.
Saturday, April 13, 2013
Thoughts on Rape Culture
I'm a bit late on this, what with the Steubenville issue having passed through a couple weeks ago. Now everything seems to be about abortion and Gosnell's trial. However, since I basically agree with what's being said there, I'm not going to go into it for now. Other people have done it better.
But on the subject of rape culture, I haven't seen anyone yet say quite what I want to say. Unfortunately, what I want to say will probably have a lot of people up in arms, given the kinds of things I've seen written about this issue recently. But please, bear with me until the end, and hopefully you'll understand what I'm trying to say.
There's been a lot of conversation recently about how our culture victimizes the rapists and blames the person who was raped. This is true, and it is a very wrong thing. We men are completely responsible for what we choose to do with our bodies (and to other people's bodies), and even for the thoughts that we entertain in our minds. (We can't stop a thought from appearing, but once we concede to it, then we are guilty of the sin.) But ladies: This does not mean that your choice of clothing is irrelevant. It is not a sin for you to wear "immodest" or "revealing" clothing, or, really, whatever kind of clothing you want. But is it always a good idea? Is it always loving?
We are each responsible for our own actions. A woman is not responsible for a man raping her simply because she was wearing a certain kind of clothing. It is his sin, not hers. If I think improper thoughts about a woman, it is my fault, my sin; but if I'm struggling with lust, my struggle is not always made easier by what the women around me are wearing.
Imagine that I struggle with gluttony instead. Is it loving to bring me really good and really unhealthy food every time you see me? It's completely my choice whether or not I eat the food, but if you already know that I struggle with eating too much, or eating the wrong kinds of things, then is it loving for you to continue to bring me food? Or would you not stop, because you care about me and want to make it easier for me to deal with my sin?
This is sort of how I see lust and the whole issue of rape culture, modesty, and the rest. Men are responsible for their own sins, for the thoughts in their hearts and for their actions towards others. But are you helping by the clothes you wear, or even by the actions you do, no matter the clothing? You ought to be free, strictly, to wear whatever you want. I don't want to be controlling your body in that respect. It isn't my decision what you wear; it's yours. But do you care about others? Do you love them, and want to help them in their struggles? Let me help you in yours; but please, help me in mine, too.
But on the subject of rape culture, I haven't seen anyone yet say quite what I want to say. Unfortunately, what I want to say will probably have a lot of people up in arms, given the kinds of things I've seen written about this issue recently. But please, bear with me until the end, and hopefully you'll understand what I'm trying to say.
There's been a lot of conversation recently about how our culture victimizes the rapists and blames the person who was raped. This is true, and it is a very wrong thing. We men are completely responsible for what we choose to do with our bodies (and to other people's bodies), and even for the thoughts that we entertain in our minds. (We can't stop a thought from appearing, but once we concede to it, then we are guilty of the sin.) But ladies: This does not mean that your choice of clothing is irrelevant. It is not a sin for you to wear "immodest" or "revealing" clothing, or, really, whatever kind of clothing you want. But is it always a good idea? Is it always loving?
We are each responsible for our own actions. A woman is not responsible for a man raping her simply because she was wearing a certain kind of clothing. It is his sin, not hers. If I think improper thoughts about a woman, it is my fault, my sin; but if I'm struggling with lust, my struggle is not always made easier by what the women around me are wearing.
Imagine that I struggle with gluttony instead. Is it loving to bring me really good and really unhealthy food every time you see me? It's completely my choice whether or not I eat the food, but if you already know that I struggle with eating too much, or eating the wrong kinds of things, then is it loving for you to continue to bring me food? Or would you not stop, because you care about me and want to make it easier for me to deal with my sin?
This is sort of how I see lust and the whole issue of rape culture, modesty, and the rest. Men are responsible for their own sins, for the thoughts in their hearts and for their actions towards others. But are you helping by the clothes you wear, or even by the actions you do, no matter the clothing? You ought to be free, strictly, to wear whatever you want. I don't want to be controlling your body in that respect. It isn't my decision what you wear; it's yours. But do you care about others? Do you love them, and want to help them in their struggles? Let me help you in yours; but please, help me in mine, too.
Thoughts
I already have a blog for my poetry and some of my fiction, but I wanted a place to put other thoughts and ramblings that wouldn't interrupt the content of that one. So, here it is. Feel free to have conversations on my posts and such.
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