Context
I was looking over the new children's nonfiction books at my library when I found Moonbird: a year on the wind with the great survivor B95 by Phillip Hoose. If you go to this link and click on A Look Inside, you'll see that the book describes the survival of an individual migrating shorebird in the face of myriad threats to his existence, including environmental changes wrought by human beings.
Commentary
Yes, once again I'm blogging about a book description, rather than the book itself. I'm a librarian; I read a lot of book descriptions. And movie descriptions. And CD descriptions. I also seem to be on an environmental kick as well, so forgive me if I grow repetitive.
I've been reading little bits of Charles Darwin's The Origin of Species and feeling dismayed that some people hold it in such contempt. Far from being a dry scientific treatise tasked with disproving God's existence, it's actually page after page of Darwin describing the wonders he sees in nature and offering his best explanation as to why they happen. Perhaps I'm perverse, but to me it reads much more like a celebration of creation than a debunking of it.
Anyway, one of the things Darwin is particularly taken with is adaptation, and he devotes most of a chapter to talking about how human beings create (if I can use that word) adaptations in domesticated plants and animals. I agree that it's an amazing process, but not really a surprising one. As people, we're all about making things fit what we want and/or need.
Think about it. Most species reside in places that are suited to their physical makeup: tropical plants in Brazil, penguins in Antarctica. People move to places that are not suited to their physiology at all and then change their physiology! Well, they either put on some clothes or some sunscreen. Or they just change the place itself, by building air-conditioned condos in the middle of the desert.
I'm starting to think this is why we are so hard on the ecology of our planet. We figure we'll always be able to adapt to whatever nature throws at us. And we may be right about that, but we fail to take into account that other species do not adapt that quickly. When we change the environment to suit ourselves, we frequently make it lethally inhospitable to the other inhabitants of the planet. You might say we do this unintentionally, but that doesn't really excuse us. We're supposed to be the ones with the big brains, not to mention the caretakers of all creation. We ought to be able to both adapt and accommodate, not just carelessly wreck everything in our path.
What did you see today?
Showing posts with label creation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label creation. Show all posts
8/29/2012
5/14/2011
I heard a question
Context
At my Quaker meeting today, we discussed this article about the Bible by Kristin Swenson. One of the regular attenders at the meeting has neither a strong interest nor a strong background in the Bible, so she asked what we thought the Bible was for. I said the Bible was for religious instruction. It has pretty good poetry, although it's probably better in the original Greek; reasonable history, especially if you're interested in the various kings of Israel, and some great philosophy. I also said it makes a poor science textbook. Someone at the table said this last would be a radical idea to the Texas Board of Education, because over the past few years, Texas has been embroiled in a debate about how to treat the theory of evolution in science textbooks.
Commentary
I need to start with some housekeeping. The link for Kristin Swenson's article goes to the Deseret News instead of the Shreveport Times, because the latter's archive didn't make it appear in a search. I'm sure they'll rue the day they lost the huge amount of traffic that comes from my blog!
Also, I try to be accurate in the Context portion of the blog, so I reported my comment that the poetry was better in the Greek. Upon further review, I should have said, "in the original language," because very little of the poetry in the Bible was originally written in Greek.
Lastly, I posted the most recent article I could find about the Texas textbook controversy, but if you do a Google search for Texas Board of Education creationism, you'll find all kinds of other goodies.
OK, now the actual commentary. Scientists don't like it when school boards put "all sides of scientific theories" language in textbook standards, because they think it's code for "take potshots at the theory of evolution." It may very well be, but the testimony on integrity (that again!) won't permit me to say so without positive proof.
So I won't deal with that issue. Instead, I'll talk about why the Bible itself, not any creationist-leaning textbook, makes a poor resource for scientific learning. The purpose of science books, and science classes for that matter, is to make observations about the world around us, come up with a plausible explanations for it, and ideally, teach people to do the same.
The Bible is terrible at this. In general, it jumps straight to conclusions without offering any physical evidence for them. I see no "We conclude God created the world in seven days because of this, this, and this" in Genesis; do you? Luckily, assertions about the nature of the physical world are kind of rare in the Bible; it's mostly about setting up a belief system and acting upon it. And to be fair, science textbooks are as bad as religious instruction as the Bible is at science.
Science is tethered to the realm of the possible. This is problematic for religion (at least my religion) in two ways:
1) Faith takes us outside the realm of what's physically possible. The Bible asserts that people can rise from the dead (2 Kings 4:32-37), that men can be thrown into a furnace and come out unharmed(Daniel 3:19-28), and that there will come a time when wolves lie down with lambs (Isaiah 11:6-8), and that's just in the Old Testament. The New Testament really goes berserk. Science can bring awe and wonder, but only faith sets us free from the tyranny of our lives to see new, unimagined possibilities. I recognize the irony of using that word, but whatcha gonna do?
2) Science makes no distinction between the possible and the desirable. Observable phenomena tell us that splitting atoms can cause horrific destruction. Science, in its purest form, has no opinion about whether this is a good or bad thing. Pretty much all religious thought comes down firmly on one side of the issue.
So science and religion have different purposes and places in our lives. Is that really such a radical idea?
What did you hear today?
At my Quaker meeting today, we discussed this article about the Bible by Kristin Swenson. One of the regular attenders at the meeting has neither a strong interest nor a strong background in the Bible, so she asked what we thought the Bible was for. I said the Bible was for religious instruction. It has pretty good poetry, although it's probably better in the original Greek; reasonable history, especially if you're interested in the various kings of Israel, and some great philosophy. I also said it makes a poor science textbook. Someone at the table said this last would be a radical idea to the Texas Board of Education, because over the past few years, Texas has been embroiled in a debate about how to treat the theory of evolution in science textbooks.
Commentary
I need to start with some housekeeping. The link for Kristin Swenson's article goes to the Deseret News instead of the Shreveport Times, because the latter's archive didn't make it appear in a search. I'm sure they'll rue the day they lost the huge amount of traffic that comes from my blog!
Also, I try to be accurate in the Context portion of the blog, so I reported my comment that the poetry was better in the Greek. Upon further review, I should have said, "in the original language," because very little of the poetry in the Bible was originally written in Greek.
Lastly, I posted the most recent article I could find about the Texas textbook controversy, but if you do a Google search for Texas Board of Education creationism, you'll find all kinds of other goodies.
OK, now the actual commentary. Scientists don't like it when school boards put "all sides of scientific theories" language in textbook standards, because they think it's code for "take potshots at the theory of evolution." It may very well be, but the testimony on integrity (that again!) won't permit me to say so without positive proof.
So I won't deal with that issue. Instead, I'll talk about why the Bible itself, not any creationist-leaning textbook, makes a poor resource for scientific learning. The purpose of science books, and science classes for that matter, is to make observations about the world around us, come up with a plausible explanations for it, and ideally, teach people to do the same.
The Bible is terrible at this. In general, it jumps straight to conclusions without offering any physical evidence for them. I see no "We conclude God created the world in seven days because of this, this, and this" in Genesis; do you? Luckily, assertions about the nature of the physical world are kind of rare in the Bible; it's mostly about setting up a belief system and acting upon it. And to be fair, science textbooks are as bad as religious instruction as the Bible is at science.
Science is tethered to the realm of the possible. This is problematic for religion (at least my religion) in two ways:
1) Faith takes us outside the realm of what's physically possible. The Bible asserts that people can rise from the dead (2 Kings 4:32-37), that men can be thrown into a furnace and come out unharmed(Daniel 3:19-28), and that there will come a time when wolves lie down with lambs (Isaiah 11:6-8), and that's just in the Old Testament. The New Testament really goes berserk. Science can bring awe and wonder, but only faith sets us free from the tyranny of our lives to see new, unimagined possibilities. I recognize the irony of using that word, but whatcha gonna do?
2) Science makes no distinction between the possible and the desirable. Observable phenomena tell us that splitting atoms can cause horrific destruction. Science, in its purest form, has no opinion about whether this is a good or bad thing. Pretty much all religious thought comes down firmly on one side of the issue.
So science and religion have different purposes and places in our lives. Is that really such a radical idea?
What did you hear today?
10/23/2009
I saw an article about football fans
Context
The Washington Redskins are not having a good season. They're in no danger of breaking the Detroit Lions' futility record, but as I read in this article today, their fans are unhappy. The article refers to a fan briefly holding up a sign saying "Black Sunday," which refers to this Bruce Dern movie, until security personnel took it away.
Commentary
Ah yes, time for another football post! Eight previous ones right here, so enjoy! In this case, though, I don't want to talk about sports. I want to talk about the right to be offensive. My husband read the part of the Redskins article to me about the Black Sunday poster and we both agreed that it's pretty darn tacky to invoke a terrorist attack just because your team's 2-4. On the other hand, we both enjoy some forms of offensive humor (we often think South Park is a stitch and a half, for example), and as comic book readers we often know that what we consider highly creative is considered irredeemable trash by others.
So is it just a matter of taste, or do some people have more of a right to be offensive than others? I don't mean a legal right, but rather an ethical entitlement, someone I'm less likely to accuse of crossing a line of decency, even if I disagree with her/him. In discussing this over dinner, my husband and I came up with three factors that contribute to our acceptance of outrageous speech or behavior:
1) Artistic license. Although this occasionally drives conservatives up the wall, art is expected to be "out there." It's hard to consider a work creative if it follows convention, and unconventional can sometimes shade over into offensive. "Black Sunday" gets some points for creatively expressing just how bad she thought her team was.
2) Putting your name on it. Anonymity when being offensive makes it seem less like you're making a cogent social statement and more like you're surreptitiously tossing spitballs from the back of the classroom. Our Redskins fan falls about in the middle on this one. She didn't put a bag on her head at the stadium, but neither did she hold up a sign that said "I'm Mary Smith and this is what I believe." A Robert Mapplethorpe photograph says "Robert Mapplethorpe" right on it, so you know who to complain to. Or about, since he died 20 years ago.
3) The social contract. If I go to a Lenny Bruce concert and get offended by the cuss words, I'm not really keeping up my end of the bargain. After all, Bruce himself said he wasn't there to get laughs. This is where the lady at the Redskins' game's justification falls completely apart. NFL football is, as they say, "sports entertainment." Invoking terrorism in a place where people generally go to forget the troubles of the real world is not only offensive, it's also kind of mean.
What did you see today?
The Washington Redskins are not having a good season. They're in no danger of breaking the Detroit Lions' futility record, but as I read in this article today, their fans are unhappy. The article refers to a fan briefly holding up a sign saying "Black Sunday," which refers to this Bruce Dern movie, until security personnel took it away.
Commentary
Ah yes, time for another football post! Eight previous ones right here, so enjoy! In this case, though, I don't want to talk about sports. I want to talk about the right to be offensive. My husband read the part of the Redskins article to me about the Black Sunday poster and we both agreed that it's pretty darn tacky to invoke a terrorist attack just because your team's 2-4. On the other hand, we both enjoy some forms of offensive humor (we often think South Park is a stitch and a half, for example), and as comic book readers we often know that what we consider highly creative is considered irredeemable trash by others.
So is it just a matter of taste, or do some people have more of a right to be offensive than others? I don't mean a legal right, but rather an ethical entitlement, someone I'm less likely to accuse of crossing a line of decency, even if I disagree with her/him. In discussing this over dinner, my husband and I came up with three factors that contribute to our acceptance of outrageous speech or behavior:
1) Artistic license. Although this occasionally drives conservatives up the wall, art is expected to be "out there." It's hard to consider a work creative if it follows convention, and unconventional can sometimes shade over into offensive. "Black Sunday" gets some points for creatively expressing just how bad she thought her team was.
2) Putting your name on it. Anonymity when being offensive makes it seem less like you're making a cogent social statement and more like you're surreptitiously tossing spitballs from the back of the classroom. Our Redskins fan falls about in the middle on this one. She didn't put a bag on her head at the stadium, but neither did she hold up a sign that said "I'm Mary Smith and this is what I believe." A Robert Mapplethorpe photograph says "Robert Mapplethorpe" right on it, so you know who to complain to. Or about, since he died 20 years ago.
3) The social contract. If I go to a Lenny Bruce concert and get offended by the cuss words, I'm not really keeping up my end of the bargain. After all, Bruce himself said he wasn't there to get laughs. This is where the lady at the Redskins' game's justification falls completely apart. NFL football is, as they say, "sports entertainment." Invoking terrorism in a place where people generally go to forget the troubles of the real world is not only offensive, it's also kind of mean.
What did you see today?
6/10/2009
I saw routing flags
Context
Because Shreve Memorial Library has 20 branches and uses a hub-and-spoke model to move materials around(similar to this one, but we try not to lose your luggage ;-)), we have pre-printed, color-coded routing flags that we stick in and sometimes on materials that say where they're going. The problem is, once the item arrives at its destination, the flag becomes temporarily useless. Nobody is trying to send things from the Main Library to the Main Library, after all. So each branch, when they've received a sizable number of these things with their name on them, bundles the flags up and sends them back to the Main Library hub. Our Interlibrary Loans Department is normally responsible for routing both the traveling material and the flags themselves.
I occasionally receive items (correspondence or pieces of hardware I need to look at) with Main Library flags attached to them. Since I receive so few I don't bother to give them to Interlibrary Loans; I just drop them off at the next branch I happen to visit. So I was looking at the three or four flags sitting on my desk awaiting redistribution today.
Commentary
I am not much of an environmentalist. I like to think this is not a character flaw on my part, but just a question of some other aspects of life taking higher priority. However, I do like the "reduce, reuse, recycle" mantra and try to apply it when I can. That's why I like the routing flags; they are single scraps of paper that can be reused over and over again.
So there's something that some of my coworkers do that drives me straight up a wall: they write my name and/or my floor on the flag, which renders it un-reusable. Oh sure, I'm going to be sent more mail at some point in the future, but no one's going to hold on to the routing flag with my name on it waiting for that eventuality. The floor designation's unnecessary anyway; it's Interlibrary Loans' job to know where everyone is in the Main Library. And if you want to attach my name, use a separate piece of paper; don't invalidate the routing flag! See, I told you I get up in arms about this.
So as I was looking at the unsullied, still-reusable flags on my desk, I was wondering why people don't just "do right" in this respect. It's something I frequently wonder about and I've come to the following conclusion: it's because they don't see the world the way I do. There is some quantity of people that don't look at an item that can easily be reused and say to themselves, "I should do everything I can to make that happen."
My first instinct in situations like this is to ponder what I can do to make people change. 45 years of life experience have actually taught me the answer: nothing. The good news is, recent religious exploration has convinced me that it's not only impossible to make everyone conform to my view of the world, it's not even desirable.
God is vast and vastly creative. No one person can perceive, appreciate and participate in all that He is doing. So our different ways of seeing the world are a gift we can offer to the Lord and to each other. For example, when I interact with a friend who thinks airline travel is immoral because of the ecological impact, I get to learn that just owning a Prius isn't enough to call myself an environmentalist, and she gets to see that people can hold other priorities in good faith, like wanting to build community through travel. Everybody gets to grow!
Share with me what you saw today!
Because Shreve Memorial Library has 20 branches and uses a hub-and-spoke model to move materials around(similar to this one, but we try not to lose your luggage ;-)), we have pre-printed, color-coded routing flags that we stick in and sometimes on materials that say where they're going. The problem is, once the item arrives at its destination, the flag becomes temporarily useless. Nobody is trying to send things from the Main Library to the Main Library, after all. So each branch, when they've received a sizable number of these things with their name on them, bundles the flags up and sends them back to the Main Library hub. Our Interlibrary Loans Department is normally responsible for routing both the traveling material and the flags themselves.
I occasionally receive items (correspondence or pieces of hardware I need to look at) with Main Library flags attached to them. Since I receive so few I don't bother to give them to Interlibrary Loans; I just drop them off at the next branch I happen to visit. So I was looking at the three or four flags sitting on my desk awaiting redistribution today.
Commentary
I am not much of an environmentalist. I like to think this is not a character flaw on my part, but just a question of some other aspects of life taking higher priority. However, I do like the "reduce, reuse, recycle" mantra and try to apply it when I can. That's why I like the routing flags; they are single scraps of paper that can be reused over and over again.
So there's something that some of my coworkers do that drives me straight up a wall: they write my name and/or my floor on the flag, which renders it un-reusable. Oh sure, I'm going to be sent more mail at some point in the future, but no one's going to hold on to the routing flag with my name on it waiting for that eventuality. The floor designation's unnecessary anyway; it's Interlibrary Loans' job to know where everyone is in the Main Library. And if you want to attach my name, use a separate piece of paper; don't invalidate the routing flag! See, I told you I get up in arms about this.
So as I was looking at the unsullied, still-reusable flags on my desk, I was wondering why people don't just "do right" in this respect. It's something I frequently wonder about and I've come to the following conclusion: it's because they don't see the world the way I do. There is some quantity of people that don't look at an item that can easily be reused and say to themselves, "I should do everything I can to make that happen."
My first instinct in situations like this is to ponder what I can do to make people change. 45 years of life experience have actually taught me the answer: nothing. The good news is, recent religious exploration has convinced me that it's not only impossible to make everyone conform to my view of the world, it's not even desirable.
God is vast and vastly creative. No one person can perceive, appreciate and participate in all that He is doing. So our different ways of seeing the world are a gift we can offer to the Lord and to each other. For example, when I interact with a friend who thinks airline travel is immoral because of the ecological impact, I get to learn that just owning a Prius isn't enough to call myself an environmentalist, and she gets to see that people can hold other priorities in good faith, like wanting to build community through travel. Everybody gets to grow!
Share with me what you saw today!
6/21/2008
I heard Friends discussing God's nature
Context
In Friends' meeting today we revisited a traditional topic: does God care about/control everything that happens? I am on the "way yes" side of this argument, but several other attenders view God as taking a more hands-off approach. This discussion, possibly because we live in the South, often centers on whether or not God influences the results of football games.
Commentary
Yes, I think God is involved in football. I don't advocate the use of prayer to try to sway Him one way or the other, but in my opinion He does care. I guess this is because I believe, like Amy Grant, that "we're just here to learn to love Him," so anywhere I learn things, I see God at work.
And I get quite an education from football. How-to-live lessons like: "a good game plan has to have both commitment and flexibility built in," and "the best predictor of ultimate success is your response to failure." Also: "every member of a team contributes to the triumph of the whole."
I also learn about God's creativity. I am awestruck when I watch what football players can do with their bodies, minds and hearts. God created each of those things, so watching is an opportunity to give Him glory.
I think this belief of mine makes particular sense in the context of this blog. After all, the whole point of it is to see God everywhere. Right?
What did you hear today?
In Friends' meeting today we revisited a traditional topic: does God care about/control everything that happens? I am on the "way yes" side of this argument, but several other attenders view God as taking a more hands-off approach. This discussion, possibly because we live in the South, often centers on whether or not God influences the results of football games.
Commentary
Yes, I think God is involved in football. I don't advocate the use of prayer to try to sway Him one way or the other, but in my opinion He does care. I guess this is because I believe, like Amy Grant, that "we're just here to learn to love Him," so anywhere I learn things, I see God at work.
And I get quite an education from football. How-to-live lessons like: "a good game plan has to have both commitment and flexibility built in," and "the best predictor of ultimate success is your response to failure." Also: "every member of a team contributes to the triumph of the whole."
I also learn about God's creativity. I am awestruck when I watch what football players can do with their bodies, minds and hearts. God created each of those things, so watching is an opportunity to give Him glory.
I think this belief of mine makes particular sense in the context of this blog. After all, the whole point of it is to see God everywhere. Right?
What did you hear today?
3/06/2008
I saw an editorial about Brett Favre
Context
Brett Favre, the starting quarterback for the Green Bay Packers for over 15 years, retired on Tuesday. Mike Lopresti wrote an editorial column on this event on Wednesday, but I only got around to reading it this morning.
Commentary
It must be hard to write a summing up column on Brett Favre's career. I think Lopresti did a good job, but it seems like a path fraught with possible missteps. I mean, you want to give appropriate tribute, but there's some things you just can't say.
1) You can't say Favre was the best quarterback in the NFL. At least, I don't think you can because there are guys like Peyton Manning who are both more technically proficient and strategize better.
2) You could say he started 275 consecutive games, but that seems like damning with faint praise. In the NFL, starting that many games takes some determination, sure, but it also takes a measure of good old-fashioned luck.
3) On the other hand, you can't say he was the luckiest quarterback in the NFL. The man had some bad things happen to him during his career. His father died. He fought an addiction to painkillers. His wife was diagnosed with breast cancer (she beat it, but still!).
4) He holds a bunch of passing records, but those are somewhat related to his longevity, so they might not be the appropriate legacy either.
5) Even with all those consecutive starts, you can't really label him as consistent. As Lopresti points out, Favre last career pass was intercepted by the New York Giants on their way to the Super Bowl. In 275 starts, it was not exactly his first interception. Or his first one that lost the game for his team.
Now, you may think I'm ragging on Brett. Far from it. I was seriously considering wearing a black armband to work on Wednesday because I was that broken up by the news of his retirement, and I'm a Detroit Lions fan! It's just that his career kind of defies description in traditional terms.
So I'm going to take a non-traditional approach: Brett Favre was the best Brett Favre to ever play in the NFL. There has never been another quarterback like him and probably never will be. The combination of "yay, yay, yay," and "omigod, omigod, omigod" in every game he played. The passes he threw that should have never been caught (but were). The passes he should have never thrown (but did). The goofy "I can't believe they pay me money to play this game" grin. And with all that, yes, the probably unbeatable number of consecutive starts. The off-the-field challenges. The whole Brett Favre experience that many of us feel like we lived through with him.
In the final analysis, isn't that the best tribute to be worthy of? He took the strengths and weaknesses God gave him and crafted an unforgettably unique career out of them. That's something we can all aspire to. Maybe for even longer than 275 consecutive Sundays.
What did you see today?
Brett Favre, the starting quarterback for the Green Bay Packers for over 15 years, retired on Tuesday. Mike Lopresti wrote an editorial column on this event on Wednesday, but I only got around to reading it this morning.
Commentary
It must be hard to write a summing up column on Brett Favre's career. I think Lopresti did a good job, but it seems like a path fraught with possible missteps. I mean, you want to give appropriate tribute, but there's some things you just can't say.
1) You can't say Favre was the best quarterback in the NFL. At least, I don't think you can because there are guys like Peyton Manning who are both more technically proficient and strategize better.
2) You could say he started 275 consecutive games, but that seems like damning with faint praise. In the NFL, starting that many games takes some determination, sure, but it also takes a measure of good old-fashioned luck.
3) On the other hand, you can't say he was the luckiest quarterback in the NFL. The man had some bad things happen to him during his career. His father died. He fought an addiction to painkillers. His wife was diagnosed with breast cancer (she beat it, but still!).
4) He holds a bunch of passing records, but those are somewhat related to his longevity, so they might not be the appropriate legacy either.
5) Even with all those consecutive starts, you can't really label him as consistent. As Lopresti points out, Favre last career pass was intercepted by the New York Giants on their way to the Super Bowl. In 275 starts, it was not exactly his first interception. Or his first one that lost the game for his team.
Now, you may think I'm ragging on Brett. Far from it. I was seriously considering wearing a black armband to work on Wednesday because I was that broken up by the news of his retirement, and I'm a Detroit Lions fan! It's just that his career kind of defies description in traditional terms.
So I'm going to take a non-traditional approach: Brett Favre was the best Brett Favre to ever play in the NFL. There has never been another quarterback like him and probably never will be. The combination of "yay, yay, yay," and "omigod, omigod, omigod" in every game he played. The passes he threw that should have never been caught (but were). The passes he should have never thrown (but did). The goofy "I can't believe they pay me money to play this game" grin. And with all that, yes, the probably unbeatable number of consecutive starts. The off-the-field challenges. The whole Brett Favre experience that many of us feel like we lived through with him.
In the final analysis, isn't that the best tribute to be worthy of? He took the strengths and weaknesses God gave him and crafted an unforgettably unique career out of them. That's something we can all aspire to. Maybe for even longer than 275 consecutive Sundays.
What did you see today?
9/05/2007
I saw a description of Christianity
Context
While web surfing today, I came across this blog entry which ends up positing that Christianity is, in fact, a "doom cult."
Commentary
I like to read analyses of Christianity written by non-Christians; it often helps me see where our message is going astray (e.g., "we're better than you" is not a basic tenet of the faith, regardless of how many people seem to espouse it,). In this case, however, I'm forced to say that Bronze Blog has hit the nail right on the head. We are a doom cult. Well, "cult" might not be the term I would use, but I concede the blogger's point that "cult" and "religion" have the same semantic relationship as "terrorist" and "freedom fighter": it depends on where you're standing.
But we're definitely all about the doom. In our defense, though, every religion is about doom. The basic premise of faith is, "you are there. You oughta be here instead. If you don't come over here, bad things will happen." Certainly we vary as to where "here" is and the appropriate method to get from the one place to the other, but as a general rule religion says things have got to change and it knows the way. It really doesn't have any other purpose.
So why does Bronze Blog think this is an insight worth blogging about? Well, for one thing, I've noticed there are a number of things that anti-Christians think of as "shocking revelations" that most Christians have long since assimilated into their understanding of how complex a relationship with God really is. I think some people really believe that as soon as they tell me that Jesus cursed a fig tree the scales will drop from my eyes and I'll renounce my deluded ways forever. Of course, scales dropping from the eyes is itself a Biblical phenomenon, but I digress.
On the other hand, maybe Bronze Blog is not so far afield. Maybe we have come to the point where Christians do think of apocalyptic nature of our faith as a "shocking revelation." Maybe we've become so comfortable and satisfied with the status quo that we really do believe that "God’s in his heaven: All’s right with the world."
But that's a Robert Browning line, not a biblical one. The Bible says the world is broken and that God will not stand for it forever. And the only consolation we get is that the new world will be better than the old. Hey, we're a doom cult, not a despairing one.
What did you see today?
While web surfing today, I came across this blog entry which ends up positing that Christianity is, in fact, a "doom cult."
Commentary
I like to read analyses of Christianity written by non-Christians; it often helps me see where our message is going astray (e.g., "we're better than you" is not a basic tenet of the faith, regardless of how many people seem to espouse it,). In this case, however, I'm forced to say that Bronze Blog has hit the nail right on the head. We are a doom cult. Well, "cult" might not be the term I would use, but I concede the blogger's point that "cult" and "religion" have the same semantic relationship as "terrorist" and "freedom fighter": it depends on where you're standing.
But we're definitely all about the doom. In our defense, though, every religion is about doom. The basic premise of faith is, "you are there. You oughta be here instead. If you don't come over here, bad things will happen." Certainly we vary as to where "here" is and the appropriate method to get from the one place to the other, but as a general rule religion says things have got to change and it knows the way. It really doesn't have any other purpose.
So why does Bronze Blog think this is an insight worth blogging about? Well, for one thing, I've noticed there are a number of things that anti-Christians think of as "shocking revelations" that most Christians have long since assimilated into their understanding of how complex a relationship with God really is. I think some people really believe that as soon as they tell me that Jesus cursed a fig tree the scales will drop from my eyes and I'll renounce my deluded ways forever. Of course, scales dropping from the eyes is itself a Biblical phenomenon, but I digress.
On the other hand, maybe Bronze Blog is not so far afield. Maybe we have come to the point where Christians do think of apocalyptic nature of our faith as a "shocking revelation." Maybe we've become so comfortable and satisfied with the status quo that we really do believe that "God’s in his heaven: All’s right with the world."
But that's a Robert Browning line, not a biblical one. The Bible says the world is broken and that God will not stand for it forever. And the only consolation we get is that the new world will be better than the old. Hey, we're a doom cult, not a despairing one.
What did you see today?
8/21/2007
I saw people sitting on benches.
Context
I was passing the Caddo Parish Courthouse on the way to the library today. There's a nice picture of it here at the website for Louisiana Film and Television (look for photo #25) that shows the benches out front. Today, as is usually the case, there were people sitting on the benches who didn't look like the people one normally sees inside the courthouse (lawyers, uniformed employees of the parish, etc.). Most of them didn't seem to be doing anything.
Commentary
A note for those of you who have never lived in Louisiana: a "parish" around here is like a "county" everywhere else in the United States. Because of recent tax law changes, when you order stuff on the phone you might have noticed that the operator will ask you what county you live in. I get a perverse kick out of saying, "I don't live in a county; I live in a parish." Sadly, I don't think they usually have a separate field for that in their form.
I remember that when I was a small child I used to frequently tell my mother I was bored. I also remember precisely when I stopped telling her that: it was when I learned to read. Members of my family will testify that subsequently there were many days when I accomplished little else besides devouring books, but at least I always had something to do! And it is still the case that I occupy some of my time with stuff like reading, watching TV, and surfing the Internet. I call these "input activities," because like #5, I'm just gathering input.
I don't spend nearly as much time on input as I did when I was kid, because now I'm expected to produce "output," like by bringing home a paycheck, distributing that money to other people, washing dishes, walking the dog, writing my blog, etc. I find I have a love/hate relationship with these obligations (even the blog-writing!). Sometimes I don't like anyone depending on me, because I really hate to disappoint people (or cats or dogs or birds) by not fulfilling every expectation. On the other hand, being counted on to perform a particular task, even a mundane one, makes me feel like an important part of God's plan. So I'm motivated to produce some output.
This led me to think about why the people sitting by the courthouse might not have anything to do. It's possible they didn't want to be doing anything, but assuming they were, in fact, bored, I wonder how that happened. If I start from the assumption that they are somewhat finanacially disadvantaged, it's possible that they didn't have the resources for a lot of "input activities," although the library has free books and computers right across the street. What worries me more is the idea that people might not have any "output activities" that they're expected to perform. Love/hate relationship aside, I would really hate it if no one depended on me for anything! How would I justify my existence?
Digging deeper, what would lead to someone not being expected to do anything? Well, maybe it starts from a scenario I remember from my own childhood. I was the youngest in my family by quite a bit, so I often felt like there was nothing special for me to do because my siblings had already taken all the available roles (athlete, brain, and yes, even troublemaker). What was left for me? Maybe the people sitting on benches feel like everything's already been done and there's nothing left for them.
Or could it be worse than that? Could it be that they were depended upon at one time and fell short, so everyone in their lives has decided not to expect anything at all? How must that feel, carrying both people's disappointment and their expectation of more disappointment? Helplessness is the feeling that we can't do anything. What about the feeling that no one want us to try? Pointlessness? Irrelevance?
No way! God does not work like that. When everyone else has written us off, God still believes in us. You know how much? He put His mark of protection on the very first murderer. The most revered of His patriarchs had a speech impediment. Peter denied his savior three times in a matter of hours, and he still got to be the founder of the Christian church!
God expects great output from the most downtrodden and disappointing people and you don't want to get in the way of what God expects. So how can we get behind it instead? How can we help people who don't seem to have anything to do find their true calling? Can we start by looking through God's eyes instead of our own?
Who did you see today?
I was passing the Caddo Parish Courthouse on the way to the library today. There's a nice picture of it here at the website for Louisiana Film and Television (look for photo #25) that shows the benches out front. Today, as is usually the case, there were people sitting on the benches who didn't look like the people one normally sees inside the courthouse (lawyers, uniformed employees of the parish, etc.). Most of them didn't seem to be doing anything.
Commentary
A note for those of you who have never lived in Louisiana: a "parish" around here is like a "county" everywhere else in the United States. Because of recent tax law changes, when you order stuff on the phone you might have noticed that the operator will ask you what county you live in. I get a perverse kick out of saying, "I don't live in a county; I live in a parish." Sadly, I don't think they usually have a separate field for that in their form.
I remember that when I was a small child I used to frequently tell my mother I was bored. I also remember precisely when I stopped telling her that: it was when I learned to read. Members of my family will testify that subsequently there were many days when I accomplished little else besides devouring books, but at least I always had something to do! And it is still the case that I occupy some of my time with stuff like reading, watching TV, and surfing the Internet. I call these "input activities," because like #5, I'm just gathering input.
I don't spend nearly as much time on input as I did when I was kid, because now I'm expected to produce "output," like by bringing home a paycheck, distributing that money to other people, washing dishes, walking the dog, writing my blog, etc. I find I have a love/hate relationship with these obligations (even the blog-writing!). Sometimes I don't like anyone depending on me, because I really hate to disappoint people (or cats or dogs or birds) by not fulfilling every expectation. On the other hand, being counted on to perform a particular task, even a mundane one, makes me feel like an important part of God's plan. So I'm motivated to produce some output.
This led me to think about why the people sitting by the courthouse might not have anything to do. It's possible they didn't want to be doing anything, but assuming they were, in fact, bored, I wonder how that happened. If I start from the assumption that they are somewhat finanacially disadvantaged, it's possible that they didn't have the resources for a lot of "input activities," although the library has free books and computers right across the street. What worries me more is the idea that people might not have any "output activities" that they're expected to perform. Love/hate relationship aside, I would really hate it if no one depended on me for anything! How would I justify my existence?
Digging deeper, what would lead to someone not being expected to do anything? Well, maybe it starts from a scenario I remember from my own childhood. I was the youngest in my family by quite a bit, so I often felt like there was nothing special for me to do because my siblings had already taken all the available roles (athlete, brain, and yes, even troublemaker). What was left for me? Maybe the people sitting on benches feel like everything's already been done and there's nothing left for them.
Or could it be worse than that? Could it be that they were depended upon at one time and fell short, so everyone in their lives has decided not to expect anything at all? How must that feel, carrying both people's disappointment and their expectation of more disappointment? Helplessness is the feeling that we can't do anything. What about the feeling that no one want us to try? Pointlessness? Irrelevance?
No way! God does not work like that. When everyone else has written us off, God still believes in us. You know how much? He put His mark of protection on the very first murderer. The most revered of His patriarchs had a speech impediment. Peter denied his savior three times in a matter of hours, and he still got to be the founder of the Christian church!
God expects great output from the most downtrodden and disappointing people and you don't want to get in the way of what God expects. So how can we get behind it instead? How can we help people who don't seem to have anything to do find their true calling? Can we start by looking through God's eyes instead of our own?
Who did you see today?
8/13/2007
I saw single-minded salmon
Context
I'm in Juneau, Alaska for vacation this week. Juneau is on the Gastineau Channel, where scads of salmon come after they've matured to swim up their home streams, spawn and die, so I've had quite a few chances to see the swimming upstream portion of this cycle. There are many obstacles, both manmade and natural, preventing the salmon from getting to their destination. These include pools where the water gets too shallow for the salmon to breathe when the tide goes out.
Commentary
My title up there is a misnomer because salmon, of course, are not single-minded. They have no minds at all. They have a biological imperative that compels them to swim upstream. As a human being though, my tendency is to anthropomorphize and say, "what are those salmon thinking?"
As I was watching the salmon making their way up a particular stream today, I thought I saw a couple saying to themselves, "aha! I've found the easy way to get up this stream and now I'll get there before everyone else and have a really successful spawn!" Actually, they were headed straight for one of those shallows I mentioned above, where several of their dead buddies had already created a feast for seagulls.
So this made me think about single-mindedness. Salmon have no choice in the matter, but we do. Do we get so focused on immediate goals that we fail to see the consequences of our actions? Do we look for the quick answer instead of considering the longer path that might have better rewards? Can we learn something from fish that have no minds at all?
What did you see today?
I'm in Juneau, Alaska for vacation this week. Juneau is on the Gastineau Channel, where scads of salmon come after they've matured to swim up their home streams, spawn and die, so I've had quite a few chances to see the swimming upstream portion of this cycle. There are many obstacles, both manmade and natural, preventing the salmon from getting to their destination. These include pools where the water gets too shallow for the salmon to breathe when the tide goes out.
Commentary
My title up there is a misnomer because salmon, of course, are not single-minded. They have no minds at all. They have a biological imperative that compels them to swim upstream. As a human being though, my tendency is to anthropomorphize and say, "what are those salmon thinking?"
As I was watching the salmon making their way up a particular stream today, I thought I saw a couple saying to themselves, "aha! I've found the easy way to get up this stream and now I'll get there before everyone else and have a really successful spawn!" Actually, they were headed straight for one of those shallows I mentioned above, where several of their dead buddies had already created a feast for seagulls.
So this made me think about single-mindedness. Salmon have no choice in the matter, but we do. Do we get so focused on immediate goals that we fail to see the consequences of our actions? Do we look for the quick answer instead of considering the longer path that might have better rewards? Can we learn something from fish that have no minds at all?
What did you see today?
6/09/2007
I heard Friends talk about goals.
Context
At Friends Meeting today we were talking about male and female personality characteristics. In that context, Friend A asked, "so do you have goals for your life?" A couple of us said, "no," but Friend B said, "yes, I have lots!" Then Friend A said to Friend B, "so you're a more goal-oriented person than the rest of us," and I thought to myself, "no, I'm a goal-oriented person; I just don't have goals!"
Commentary
What's going on with my seemingly contradictory view of goals? Well, when someone talks about a person "having goals," I think of long-term visions for the future. I have those; I just lack the motivation and discipline to carry them out. For example, I would like to shed about 30 pounds. However, I have so little intention of either eating significantly less or exercising significantly more that it seems wrong to call that a "goal."
"Goal-oriented," on the other hand, means something different to me. It makes me think more in terms of my actual activities, as opposed to the things I want to do or think I ought to do. Frequently as I go through my day I ask myself, "why are you doing this?" In other words, what goal am I hoping to accomplish?
I find that asking myself this question helps me in a couple of ways. One, it prevents me from walking down fruitless paths. So if I ask myself, "why are you doing this particular activity?", the answer might be, "in order to teach people to use the computer." If I then realize that the activity I'm doing doesn't actually help people to learn, I can just stop doing it! It's easier to do that if I'm focusing on a goal instead of my own ego, a la "wah! I really like that activity!"
On the flip side, being goal-oriented helps me examine not only my activities, but also the goals themselves. I've had this internal conversation more than once:
"Lynn, you're gossiping. Why are you doing that?"
"Well, I really want to impress the people I'm with."
"Really. So your goal is to impress the sort of people who are impressed by gossip. Is that really a worthy goal?"
My mother tried to inculcate this idea in me countless times when I was a teenager. 30 years later, I'm finally getting it. She's currently practicing her "I told you so" speech in heaven.
Mind you, "worthy" doesn't necessarily mean "lofty." Sometimes the conversation goes more like this:
"Why are you watching this episode of Sports Night on DVD that you've seen five times before?"
"I'm tired, I like Aaron Sorkin's writing and Peter Krause is easy on the eyes."
Resting and appreciating the whole of God's creation. Perfectly worthy goals.
What did you see today?
At Friends Meeting today we were talking about male and female personality characteristics. In that context, Friend A asked, "so do you have goals for your life?" A couple of us said, "no," but Friend B said, "yes, I have lots!" Then Friend A said to Friend B, "so you're a more goal-oriented person than the rest of us," and I thought to myself, "no, I'm a goal-oriented person; I just don't have goals!"
Commentary
What's going on with my seemingly contradictory view of goals? Well, when someone talks about a person "having goals," I think of long-term visions for the future. I have those; I just lack the motivation and discipline to carry them out. For example, I would like to shed about 30 pounds. However, I have so little intention of either eating significantly less or exercising significantly more that it seems wrong to call that a "goal."
"Goal-oriented," on the other hand, means something different to me. It makes me think more in terms of my actual activities, as opposed to the things I want to do or think I ought to do. Frequently as I go through my day I ask myself, "why are you doing this?" In other words, what goal am I hoping to accomplish?
I find that asking myself this question helps me in a couple of ways. One, it prevents me from walking down fruitless paths. So if I ask myself, "why are you doing this particular activity?", the answer might be, "in order to teach people to use the computer." If I then realize that the activity I'm doing doesn't actually help people to learn, I can just stop doing it! It's easier to do that if I'm focusing on a goal instead of my own ego, a la "wah! I really like that activity!"
On the flip side, being goal-oriented helps me examine not only my activities, but also the goals themselves. I've had this internal conversation more than once:
"Lynn, you're gossiping. Why are you doing that?"
"Well, I really want to impress the people I'm with."
"Really. So your goal is to impress the sort of people who are impressed by gossip. Is that really a worthy goal?"
My mother tried to inculcate this idea in me countless times when I was a teenager. 30 years later, I'm finally getting it. She's currently practicing her "I told you so" speech in heaven.
Mind you, "worthy" doesn't necessarily mean "lofty." Sometimes the conversation goes more like this:
"Why are you watching this episode of Sports Night on DVD that you've seen five times before?"
"I'm tired, I like Aaron Sorkin's writing and Peter Krause is easy on the eyes."
Resting and appreciating the whole of God's creation. Perfectly worthy goals.
What did you see today?
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