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.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
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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