the archrival

I don't feel much of a need to comment on the appropriateness of Halloween for Christians. Although it's well-known that the roots of Halloween and its practices do have some pagan roots, going through the motions of a Halloween practice doesn't automatically make you a pagan any more than going through the motions of church attendance automatically makes you a devotee of Christianity. On the other hand, there's no getting around the fact that glorification of evil/gore/devilry/debauchery, no matter how insincere, is repugnant to the sensibilities and strivings of a Christian devotee. As is often the case, the issue is complicated enough to require judgment. Some Halloween activities are harmless, some are not, and some may be merely distasteful and unedifying.

One of the topics that Halloween tends to raise among Christians is witchcraft. And almost without exception, the danger seems overblown to me. Witchcraft is among the most unambiguous no-nos, so it isn't much of a temptation. Its spiritual power is trumped by our Lord, so it isn't especially threatening (and of course external forces cannot "take" your soul or salvation). I doubt that its popularity is nearly as high as some claim, and in my opinion it verges on ridiculous to view fiction that contains witchery as a "gateway" to actual occult. It's analogous to viewing Da Vinci Code as a gateway and popularizer to heresy, or video games as an irresistible stimulus to violent acts; people who could be so influenced by these factors must have had other problems and confusion before exposure (e.g. a lack of education about what constitutes a canonical Christian document and a grievous confounding of games and reality, respectively).

By and large, anxiety about witchcraft, at least in present-day America, is somewhat like watching attentively for an animal attack while sinking in quicksand. And the identity of that quicksand isn't another favorite hobgoblin, philosophical/scientific humanism, but simple materialism. This archrival of Christianity is ancient. Its spell is much more subtle than witchcraft. A "Christian witch" is unimaginable but we can observe Christian materialists every day. 


Furthermore the Gospels warn time and again about this possible infection. In Matthew 6:24 we learn that no one can serve both God and money. Matthew 19:24 resorts to hyperbole: it's easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God. 


The question really becomes relevant when the two conflict. A materialist makes a sacrifice as long as it's sufficiently convenient and low-cost. A devotee holds nothing back. A materialist is concerned with earthly materials. A devotee sees earthly materials purely as tools for Good rather than ends. A materialist (addict?) craves, satisfies the craving, then craves still more. A devotee recognizes that the pursuit of mundane cravings is no more than a "treadmill" while the craving for God is the path to eternity. Desires aren't sinful, but the resulting loss of focus can possibly set the stage for sin.


Chances are that witchcraft is not the prime archrival to Christianity for most people. Open eye, remove plank, and double-check that your materials aren't a curse to you.

Glee's Grilled Cheesus episode

I usually don't post my reactions to portrayals of religion on TV. If I did, my objections would be highly repetitive: 1) the proportion of hypocrites is much greater on TV, 2) people can in fact be devotees and yet be knowledgeable and sane, 3) in my opinion "serious" discussion of religious topics tends to be largely trite and simplistic, 4) viewers should keep in mind that, as with any topic, anything that's merely photogenic is always overrepresented.

But "Grilled Cheesus" merits some special mention, both because the episode's single-minded focus is religion and because the show reaches so many people. My intent isn't to scold the TV show for attempting to address such a drastically important facet of human existence. And a scolding would of course be ineffective and unrealistic. Glee has made it repeatedly plain that, like any work of media, it has its own voice and style and ideology, so nobody should bother to expect it to be any more congenial to traditional Christian beliefs than it has in the past.

• Some of the song choices are curious: "Only the Good Die Young", "Bridge over Troubled Water", "Losing My Religion", "One of Us" (I've previously explained my annoyance with people who apply that song to Christ). Rather than songs that mention religion, why not "authentic" and unambiguous religious songs? There's no shortage! If the goal is inoffensiveness to the the American public, dare I suggest a common Christmas carol? Something in Latin? The song whose usage is so reflexive and pervasive in non-Christian contexts that it borders on kitsch, "Amazing Grace"? (What other tune would be played centuries in the future after an alien, Mr. Spock, dies?)
• A few of the episode's characters argue a distinction between religion and "spirituality" on the assumption that the latter should be treated differently, e.g. in a public school classroom. Naturally, I disagree. For many, the precepts of their religion are their personal spirituality. Their beliefs are as valid and worthy of expression as the beliefs of someone who professes to be "unorganized". It's quite naive to claim that we can talk comprehensively about human souls, supernatural forces/gods, or various customs and experiences without delving into the details of widespread religions.
• The inclusion of atheism was unsurprising given its increasing fashion and publicity in mainstream media, but the extensive coverage of it nevertheless seemed excessive for a belief system that's an undeniable minority. I was also irked by the manner in which the atheist perspective was presented by intellectual points and gibes while everyone else's perspective was comparatively unintellectual and toothless. As if the atheist reaches conclusions and others must compensate with grandiose leaps of blind faith (really, no one offers a credible counterargument to being called a "mental patient" for believing?).
• Someone commented to the effect that the notion of the unsaved going to Hell is not very Christian. This isn't the first time I've heard something similar. Know what else is not very Christian? The notion that rebellious and intentional sins have no consequences on one's relationship with a perfectly holy God.
• An appearance of a gospel choir was inevitable. Perhaps no other manifestation of Christianity has the same likable combination of excitement, showiness, and fluffiness.
• Not much more need be said about the grilled "cheesus" itself. It's a risible specimen of religion and a plot contrivance. Nothing else. Based on how it was treated in the episode, I don't think it was meant as a satire.

idolization of doubt

Recently I read a surprisingly positive sentiment about the presence of doubt in the normal Christian experience. In fact, the opinion was that a faith without doubt is no solid faith at all. And doubt never ends, so all honest and earnest Christians must embrace doubt as truth's constant companion.

I believe this exaltation of doubt is a subtle error. In my opinion, doubt's status is closer to a necessary evil than a praiseworthy virtue. Although I concur that doubt's "power of negativity" is indispensable for exposing falsities, it can also be destructive to the fundamental faith of the devotee. Every truth can be doubted; hence doubt itself is often incorrect and unhelpful. A devoted Christian is not like a philosophical rationalist who demands complete surety in propositions. Rather, they learn more deeply about the One over time through fallible methods, and faith puts the knowledge to work.

As I said earlier, doubt is necessary, but purely in service to its purpose: the gain of truth. Doubt is a means, not an end. When the Christian once obtains a beautiful truth, doubt's role is mostly finished. It's possible that the truth is a mistake, in which case doubt can yet be resurrected if appropriate. However, sooner or later doubts begin to be nothing more than obstructions that prevent people from trusting a tested truth. Doubt is a weapon against mis-truth. Just as we will cast off our weapons as we face everlasting peace, we will cast off our doubts as we face everlasting and fully-revealed truth.

Worldview Fragment: church as society of friends

Worldview fragment: one or more related ideas/viewpoints that can (and often do) serve as a component or flavor in a complete worldview held by some specific individual. The "fragment" term is not intended to be a subtle insult, but to accurately reflect the reality that the fragment is 1) not necessarily an actual, comprehensive worldview, and 2) could likely coexist with a variety of other fragments within some individual's worldview. A puzzle piece isn't worthless because it's a puzzle piece.

I've previously mused about what it means to be an introverted Christian, and perhaps I had more questions than satisfying answers. Nevertheless, I'm still a Christian and still introverted. Recently, I thought about it from a different angle: my impression is that for some, one of the fragments of their overall worldview is the concept of the church as a "society of friends".

Basically, I keep hearing that people in the church should interact beyond a formalized slate of weekly activities. They should meet urgent needs that arise, give confessions and encouragement and admonishment, share joy and sadness, pray and study, etc. Sounds like a society of friends to me.

But how are the friendless and ignored expected to react to this vision of the church? As I explained in detail when I described my experience of being both Christian and introverted, it's abundantly apparent that I don't have the prerequisites for "fitting in". My hobbies and interests aren't like the others in my church. I don't even watch the same TV shows. I'm not charming. I don't put people at ease. As a never-married adult, I'm categorized differently than most of the church. My talents and/or "gifts" aren't suited to up-front exposure, so I'm not well known. In short, it seems that after taking everything into account, nobody wishes to voluntarily spend time with me. (And of course, saying this complaint out loud, to anyone, would merely mark me as self-pitying and therefore less worthy of friendship.)

Now, this situation has never stopped me from contributing financially, volunteering for various tasks behind the scenes, having short awkward conversations on Sundays, communicating my insights in bible studies, voting like all the other full members of the church, singing in groups, and so on. However, if church is meant to be more, if it's meant to resemble a society of friends, if utmost spiritual growth necessitates that model, if church is about giving oneself in relationships, then the state of my social life relegates me to a "lower tier" of Christianity, does it not? In that case my participation is more like the support machine hooked up to the Body than one of its organs, isn't it? Given that true church is a society of friends, my flagrant inability to befriend (or to be befriended) disqualifies me, and others with similar issues?

withstanding

Belatedly, I wondered if the tone of my post about repentance and Hebrews 10:26 may have been too unsympathetic to the plight of Christians who, like myself, 1) are already aware that we sin, 2) are therefore grieved by the knowledge that we fail to be holy in countless ways, and then 3) take steps to avert our sin in the future.

My reply is simple: if you're in that group, then you weren't my intended target. I aimed my message at Christians who don't bother with repentance, presumably out of the mistaken assumption that the purpose of grace is to sin without shame. They might claim that since they're "only human" and surrounded by temptation, they cannot be expected to withstand. For them, transformation (sanctification) is "extra credit" for overachieving saints. No reason to go "overboard" on righteousness and integrity.

However, it's worth reiterating that most of the time, withstanding is physically possible, feasible, beneficial, etc., so the barriers are mental. And Christianity is far from alone in drawing attention to this fact. Much of the "inspirational self-help industry" appears to be centered on reminding people that they can choose their behavior, break awful habits, stop being passive victims. Numerous, straightforward, proven strategies exist for more effective withstanding...

• Practice. The more a person withstands, the easier it feels over time. Fasting, which I've mentioned many times before, can be good practice for withstanding (but if you're new to fasting then by all means be sure to look up sensible guidelines and ease into it). Practice is fundamental: the other strategies grow stronger with practice.
• Pray. Pray for deliverance from evil. Redirect your perspective toward God. Recognize His sovereignty and presence in everyday life. Visualization may help, but be careful not to mistake your images for the true God.
• Think twice. In the middle of the storm, when you're feeling propelled and tumbled, just take some time to let the "rising tide" fade and reconsider your actions as if you were an external observer.
• Enumerate consequences. As much as you can, vividly recall what the long-term effects of this action have been in the past. Also, soberly weigh the impact this action could have on the "ledger" of your life, other people's lives, and your surroundings. Complex plans, predictions, and judgments are part of what separates us from brutes.
• Enlist other believers. Sometimes the mere reassurance that you aren't alone is helpful. And by working with them on common goals, everyone's burden seems lighter. Meanwhile, social reinforcement fuels the motivation to be and do better.
• Consume conducive ideas. For withstanding to be successful, peripheral habits and thought patterns probably should change in accordance with the goal. Again, it's certainly possible to withstand without replacing these unfavorable influences, but it's unnecessarily harder.
• Make failure difficult. Adjust circumstances such that withstanding is the easier choice. Whether the adjustment acts more like a "fence", "guard", or just "inconvenience", it affirmatively biases you toward withstanding.
• Decide beforehand. Select a "path" of withstanding, and when the situation arises, remain in that path. You've made a decision that's no longer "open for discussion". It will be, come what may. There's no need to ponder the temptation; ponder your prior verdict instead. You're a playwright who wrote what would happen, and now as the actor your responsibility is to enact the play.
• Reward success. People who have died to self and become virtuous don't require external motivators. Nevertheless, if the payoff of withstanding is subtle and intangible, it doesn't hurt at first to assign yourself a small reward. Of course, the danger lies in mistaking your tiny representative reward for the true, deeper reward, thereby turning it into its own temptation! Thus, the reward's value should be a symbolic trifle that won't provoke dependency or even significant attachment.   
• Flee. Stop "fighting". Don't place yourself where withstanding is necessary. Avoid and prevent it before it has a chance to "attack". Obviously, this strategy may not apply, yet it's indispensable when it does. 

The upshot is that the person who states that they're absolutely "powerless" to withstand sin is in all likelihood mistaken, lying, or lazy. Their real meaning might be that they either don't want to pay the cost of the above strategies for withstanding, or they don't want to withstand at all. In order to repent, you must want to repent, regardless of the cost. In order to want to repent regardless of the cost, you must hate your sin. In order to hate your sin, you must appreciate that your Lord hates it sufficiently to be willing to die to cover it. In order to appreciate your Lord's death, you must acknowledge His great love despite your sin. A Christian who doesn't wish to repent is still in error about what salvation really is.

church that's "real"

Christians can be as critical of church as anyone else, and the criticisms can be perplexing. What does it mean when they're searching for a church that's "real"? And how can a church accommodate this demand?

• My first guess is that a qualification for "real" is that the church doesn't suffer from Christian "masks" of action or attitude. As I wrote before, the masks prevent Christians from working together to achieve comprehensive change in themselves, but overreactions against the masks are also dangerous. My basic point is that while "gritty" confession most definitely is part of the duties of a church, it shouldn't become an overwhelming focus nor should it necessarily be a component of the large-scale public service (i.e. the service intended for people of any level of commitment).
• Another possibility is that "real" simply corresponds to a particular style of worship that happens to appeal to that person. Other styles, especially ones that are perceived as opposites, must be " 'fake' worship that puts on an ostentatious show." Clearly, in this case one worshiper's real is another's fake.
• On a more solid basis, "real" could refer to the complaint that a church discusses Christianity but never accomplishes anything. It's eminently reasonable to expect people who have been reanimated through Christ to participate in the further reanimation of the spiritually-dead world and society. Love and truth are for sharing. Hoarded love and truth probably are counterfeit.
• In a bizarre twist, for some critics "real" doesn't have any relation to a specific church at all. Instead, they appear to reject all churches of Christianity at once. These are the ones who might refuse to call themselves "Christian" for some reason, despite their belief in the same doctrines. They say that the name is itself too misleading to be a real reflection of their precious identity, reputation, and ego. "Christianity's not real, God is real. People in the 'modern' church are deluded and not encountering God. How can I tell? Because they attend church and call themselves Christian." (Of course, there's not much individual churches can do about them until they actually open themselves up to other believers.)
• The ultimate accusation of a lack of "real"-ness is the dreaded state of being unauthentic, which is roughly defined as changing anything in order to reach and attract newcomers. Naturally, once a judgment of unauthentic is handed down, it's flatly impossible to escape it. A desperate attempt to stop being unauthentic merely earns a judgment of being unauthenticly authentic. Like the famous person who didn't want to be part of any club that would accept the likes of him, a search for a "real" church may consist of finding one that's highly unwelcoming (or considered welcoming purely by Christians with "refined holy taste"). Therefore "real" implies unpleasant, badly-presented, esoteric, exotic, etc., and any church too successful at evangelism could never pass as real!
  

Hebrews 10:26

If we deliberately keep on sinning after we have received the knowledge of the truth, no sacrifice for sins is left, 

A few times online, I've read accusations either that someone is "too soft on sin" or "too stingy with grace". But as I've previously written, both complaints are too simplistic. Without a proper understanding of what sin is, pleas for grace and love are hollow and devolve into therapeutic self-esteem sessions. But without a proper understanding of grace and love (and supernatural empowerment), a clear view of sinfulness produces hopelessness and contempt for self and others.

Perhaps Christians should proclaim "today is the day of repentance" whenever they also proclaim "today is the day of salvation". The purpose of forgiveness is so that you can come back to God and stop separating yourself from Him by sinning.

To recap:

If you have no intent of living a holy life by faith, grace is "stingy" and not for you.

On the other hand, if you honestly and sincerely stop being "soft" on your sin, you have all the grace you require and more.

simplicity and macroeconomics

Some Christians encourage greater distinction from the surrounding culture along the dimension of simplicity. As children of God who 1) rely on Him to meet our needs, 2) emphasize the importance of intangible things, 3) recognize just how relatively much we have compared to many of our brethren in other times and locations: it's fitting to live a simpler lifestyle with fewer material encumbrances.

Yet simplicity has another "side" on a macroeconomic level. For each transaction, there is a buyer and a seller, and the seller perhaps bought originally from other sellers and producers. The buyer who forgoes a transaction for the sake of simplicity denies that transaction to the would-be seller. That in turn implies that the seller cannot participate in the additional transactions with the other sellers and producers. And so forth, as the withdrawal of the economic transaction continues to "ripple". If sufficient numbers of buyers commit to simplicity simultaneously, the sellers and producers may end up unable to pay their basic expenses, which puts them out of work. So significant application of simplicity on a large scale entails shrinking the economy as a whole and raising unemployment; less participation by buyers results in less potential for participation by workers.

I don't think this means that we should completely stop the practice of simplicity. The point is that while we grow in simplicity, we should continue to expend the freed resources but in good causes. The better ones have transformational qualities that aim to help the disadvantaged "stand on their own feet" (whenever that's a possibility). This too has a macroeconomic justification. By enabling people to both consume and produce, even if at first "produce" is nothing more than a part-time service job, they can enhance the economy instead of being a drain on it, with an accompanying sense of self-worth. Actually, transferring mere consumption to such "human resource investment" might in the end be more effective at stimulating long-term economic growth (a better "multiplier").

Gradually, the shift in the habits of the Christian rich from frivolous to charitable would change the economy's very macroeconomic "structure". There'd be no market for certain items, and those people would be displaced into different industries. The financial world of brokers and investment bankers would likely shrink. Greater economic activity at the lower levels would change (narrow?) the range of products offered. The middle class would enlarge. Higher standards of living, that would continue to spring from the ongoing improvements in productivity, would manifest not in more pronounced gaps between rich and poor but in a "rising tide" benefiting all. 

To everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded. It's right there in the Book.

Joy is more than yelling woo

I once heard the leader of a worship service lecture about Joy. He said that Christians should be overcome with excitement. They should be happy. They should cheer. They should, if they are so inclined, express their Christian Joy by yelling "woo" at the designated point in the song (no, the song wasn't "A Mighty Fortress is our God").

I assume his goal was to encourage more tangible participation in the service. As the worship leader, he doubtless felt that enthusiastic response was a gauge of his effectiveness. Presumably, enticing worshipers into active exuberance has a greater chance of resulting in heartfelt identification with God and his message. People who do or feel something tend to learn better. And genuine ecstasy during worship is a proper reaction. I also don't dispute that fun is a marvelous way to reach people and that it has its place in worship. I believe in the sincerity of the worship leader's efforts to connect with his worshipers and connect them to God.

But my concept of Joy is more than yelling "woo". Joy isn't just feeling perky and grinning. At many times, joy doesn't imply happiness in the shallow sense. Joy is the emotive outpouring of the assurance of Faith. Joy is trust. Joy is the freedom of not worrying whether or not the "universe is on your side". Joy is not dependent on circumstances. Joy is keeping one's perspective tilted toward eternity. Joy is delight in divine perfection, something solid that's worthy of sacrifice. Joy is humble because Joy is full appreciation of grace. Joy isn't a cynical analysis of the evil all around. Joy is searching for good and then embracing it. Joy is recognizing daily blessings. Joy is the prerogative to retaliate against past mistakes and present difficulties by refusing to be a slave to either (consequences can't be ignored but also aren't the "last word"). Joy therefore enables holiness and growth. Joy is the expectation that one can and will attempt to please the God who pursued us first. Joy is the attitude that attracts the undevoted.

the Enlightenment charge

Of trendy criticisms leveled at current (U.S. evangelical) churches, one of the more puzzling to me has been "The church's core beliefs were reinterpreted to better match the Enlightenment, and this is one of the many causes of its decreasing effectiveness". The adaptation of Christianity to the Enlightenment is supposedly characterized by an emphasis on constructing theoretical systems, reaching truth through abstract debate, and generally enshrining eternal propositions. For postmodernists of varying levels of devotion who're attempting to reconcile their philosophy to Christianity, those emphases are considered unhelpful at best and deceptive or distracting "mere social constructions" at worst.

My first issue with the Enlightenment charge is that it isn't accurate. A long time before then, the biblical concept of God had already been firmly established: a static, absolute, spiritual being whose very nature could be better comprehended through the reading of unchanging documents such as the Pentateuch. Of course, He was also a Personal God who spoke, acted, loved, disciplined, and so forth, but never in ways that contradicted those known attributes. Perfection doesn't evolve so neither does the "I AM THAT I AM". His unpredictability and ineffability are not due to "dynamic divine development" but to the straightforward logical fact that finite creatures (us) are unable to capture or summarize infinity completely. While we have faith that He is Good, it's impossible for us to reliably calculate which specific good thing He will do next. Christians used reason to broaden their picture of God before everyone else began to experience the Enlightenment, and in its function of preserving the (Roman) past, the church was at least partially responsible for the Enlightenment.

Secondly, I'm not convinced that the postmodern Christianity I've read about is any less derivative of the Enlightenment. A postmodern Christian will enthusiastically claim that God isn't a figure in a piece of literature or a precept in a doctrinal statement. Rather, He is alive and willing to participate in an intimate relationship. Anyone who seeks Him earnestly will find Him. "Intellectual hair-splitting" cannot analyze Him for He can only be known by what He does. One mustn't think about Him and instead breathe Him in, more or less.

When I ponder the methodology in the preceding paragraph, the resemblance to a particular philosophical position is uncanny: empiricism, which I could informally state as "Nothing can be known except what we directly experience or can relate to direct experience. Therefore the definition of anything can mean nothing more than a person's experiences of that thing." A postmodern God is thus an empirical God. If we can't ascertain any truths about God except through experience, then He must be defined as experience and nothing else.

Hence the postmodern Christian is an empiricist. However, empiricism's resurgence began with the reintroduction of systematic science...the Enlightenment! Before then, "empirical Christianity" would've been virtually nonexistent even as a possibility. At that time the church's hierarchy declared what God is like, what the duties of each Christian must be, how to apply the Bible, etc. The sentiment of "Stop talking to me about your faith in god and just prove it to me!" is quite foreign before the Enlightenment. One learned through the cunning arguments said by the wise, and so long as the explanation seemed plausible nobody demanded vulgar illustrations of it in the dirtiness of everyday life. The model of belief advocated by the postmodern Christian is itself symptomatic of the Enlightenment.

Still, regardless of debates about history and philosophy and "where the church first went wrong", I gladly join with the postmodern Christian in exhorting (although he or she probably would select a different word than "exhort") my fellow believers to exercise their beliefs in good deeds. We use the same Bible, which compares an inactive listener to a house built on sand. Unlike my counterpart I think that one can certainly say true things about God, but in any case the epistle of James instructs us both that an unexpressed faith is a dead faith.

a God by any other name

I recently read a curious interview online. The gist was someone claiming that the typical understanding/interpretation/explanation of salvation is out of sync with modern times and not well-supported by the Bible on close examination. To the contrary, he stipulated that salvation isn't primarily about sin or defining who is accepted by God but rather about participating in the ongoing redemption of creation at large. He also specifically mentioned that the usual way of framing the concept of salvation is too exclusionary and narrow for a pluralistic society of people whose expressions about good and evil only differ superficially; underneath, everybody who loves his or her neighbor believes the same broad ideas. In any case a God who demands human sacrifice for unholiness is too vengeful to be consistent with the suffering, victimized Christ who identified with the downtrodden.

I almost don't know where to begin dissecting the viewpoint of Christianity in the preceding paragraph.

• In point of fact it isn't as revolutionary or new as some would say. Theologically liberal and culturally-muted sects of Christianity have been around just as long as any other part of the Christian movement. Some Christians always have been hesitant to accept the details at "face value" and opted to mix and match the "general outline" (i.e. the bits they like) of the faith with a variety of external notions.
  
• I've written before about cultural accommodation through appeasement - the practice of deemphasizing or totally removing culturally-foreign ideas, like truth and sin and hell and blood, until the remainder isn't Christianity in any practical sense. In this case one of the rejected ideas appears to be God Himself, or more specifically the God who quite explicitly in the Bible is exacting in both His moral laws and the highly-serious methods by which guilt is remedied and the divine relationship restored. It may be true that too many Christians are too focused on that aspect of Him, but that's still distinct from veering to the opposite extreme of pretending it isn't there.
  
• At another time I wrote about how nonsensical it becomes when someone tries to say that nobody's spiritual beliefs are ever wrong. My point is that if the spiritual realm is real, then what we have are real disagreements about real things. If your one true god is an impersonal unity of the universe then my God cannot also be your god because we're describing contradictory beings. If you believe in multiple gods of roughly equal "rank" then how silly is it to suppose that my God consists of the same divine Presence as all of yours? (Yeah, yeah, Christianity has a Trinity, but Jesus also said "the Father and I are one".) Maybe one's motivation for reducing all religions to one unified supernatural path is the worry that when there are too many religions someone can't rationally believe in one of them. I offered some thoughts on that in the post linked in the previous sentence.
  
• At yet other times, I addressed the question of words failing to express all of God, as well as some straightforward reasons for why there's no such thing as Christianity without doctrine. It's certainly a truism that words and doctrinal statements and formal pronouncements aren't the entirety of Christianity, and right actions and motivations matter. But it's still overreaching to conclude either words are useless or your thoughts are pointless. Sure, we have contact with a resurrected God and we are called to imitate Him and cause others to imitate Him. How shall we do that without describing Him or studying His words?
• Lastly, a serious obstacle to a radical reinterpretation of salvation is the manner that Jesus lived and died. Assume not that He came to atone and assure a blissful afterlife, and instead He came solely to be an in-the-flesh example and teacher of a better human lifestyle that heals and loves not damages and hates. Why didn't He start His ministry sooner? Why didn't He do as His followers advised and "lay low" somewhere away from Jerusalem, where He could train disciples without interference? Why did He talk so literally about His blood and body at Supper?
  

drop the superciliousness

This is more of a personal preference or opinion of mine than a reasoned-out argument, but I believe that Christians of all people shouldn't be supercilious toward any object: people, things, or ideas. We shouldn't search eagerly for reasons to either denigrate or self-congratulate. For God's sake, our inclination will be to find and appreciate any goodness we encounter. Why?

• Superciliousness can accompany and perhaps partially cause overall negativity or despair. It's not beneficial long-term to the human spirit, and its short-term rewards are illusory and beggarly.
  
• I've read that the ground at the cross is "level", which is a pithy way to remind ourselves that the Bible portrays a God who isn't impressed by what we do; indeed, we're sinners steeped in evil at birth. The powerful and privileged don't have special passes to heaven. Rich folk aren't God's favorites. Fashionable and popular people might not be regarded well by Him. Christians are deceived and distracted by the sinful world's patterns whenever they expend time and effort into measuring humanity's worth by such scales. (On the other hand, some commentators go overboard on this topic of social inequity. Since the ground is level it's also incorrect to assume that all who are poor must be innocent victims and all who are prosperous must be crooks!)
• At the same time that Christians recognize the dirty-rotten-sinner in everyone, they also know that God loves them. If Christians claim to emulate His example then they'll love them too. They'll rejoice in any speck of righteousness they discover in whom they meet. Although a fallen person's despicable actions deserve no acclaim, he or she is still included in the scope of love. Christians can neither exalt nor despise their fellow man, so they can't be supercilious.
  

revisiting the Matrix

Preface

More than 10 years later, I'm well aware that mining the Matrix movies for religious illustrations isn't groundbreaking anymore. Neither has it ever been insightful, since the movies invite it by borrowing much inspiration, imagery, and symbolism from various religions and then leaving the borrowings strewn about in clear view for the audience ("Zion"? "Trinity"?). Also obvious is that despite all the iconography the movies are not uplifting or evangelistic (not for biblical Christianity anyway) in purpose or design or content; the base ingredient of philosophy combines with heavy dollops of mayhem, lasciviousness, and profanity. Lastly, many of the premises of the movies are present in other works that aren't as broadly-known.

Nevertheless, the Matrix has undoubtedly popularized an idea at its core that's shared by many supernatural belief systems: the reality of the senses isn't the entirety of existence and in one way or another can act as an illusion that hides something more important. This is literally portrayed in the Matrix as the "Matrix", a fake reality maintained by machines to subjugate humans. This is achieved by a direct electrical connection from the human bodies to the electric impulses that simulate the Matrix, so that in effect the humans' "senses" simply have never experienced anything real. The implication is that by hijacking the nervous system a person's mind is completely trapped in a convincing fantasy. In effect, to trap the brain is to trap the mind.

Disconnect

For completeness (and self-indulgence's sake) it's worth mentioning that as the storyline progresses, the movies increasingly undermine and downplay the entrapment of the nervous system as a simple explanation of the Matrix's functioning. Readers who haven't seen the movies and/or wish to avoid getting any geek splattered on them can skip ahead.

• When the Matrix simulates someone's "death", the person's real body is said to die also because "the body cannot live without the mind". Similarly, when a person's body is suddenly unplugged from the Matrix, both the body and the Matrix "virtual body" drop dead. But if the Matrix is just fakery for the body, then how could it be separating the mind from the body in either case? The most straightforward though mysterious rationale is that when a person connects to the Matrix his or her mind actually leaves the body, which is quite distinct from the concept of the Matrix as electrical signals directly relayed into the person.
• The opposition "agent" programs of the Matrix somehow occupy people's virtual bodies in the Matrix, but only those who've never been unplugged. Agent Smith, who unlike other agents can reproduce, manages to continue to inhabit an unplugged actual human body. While it's unclear why this "possession" by the agents is necessary at all when many other sentient programs exist in the Matrix without it, still more unclear is how a person's identity could be overwritten through the Matrix mechanism. What stream of sensations could accomplish this? Talk about rapid personal change! More on this at the end.
  
• As Neo develops into an advanced stage, he demonstrates the astounding capability of observing and affecting real machines without any physical connector whatsoever, and as if to underline this point he can do it after losing his vision. He can also be in a virtual reality known as "limbo", although this is involuntary. Unless the viewer assumes that the environment previously presented by the movies as "reality" is truly a Matrix within a Matrix (an inventive yet tricky story twist), Neo's later feats presume that his mind extends beyond his nervous system.
  
• In the climaxes of the first two movies, plugged-in people are revived from lethal wounds sustained by their Matrix virtual "bodies". The status of someone's virtual "body" must have a strange relationship indeed to the status of his or her body, in order for death and resuscitation to sometimes flow one way and sometimes another. There could be a couple loopholes: either being plugged-in isn't a genuine total takeover of the nervous system or the association between a person's mind and body isn't fully based in the nervous system at all.
  

Soulfulness

Coming to the point after laying aside the movies' own increasingly complicated stance toward the concept, the Matrix analogy raises a provocative question that perplexes me. If the Matrix is like the physical reality of the Christian and a mind in the Matrix is like the soul of a Christian, then how can a Christian soul distinguish physical reality from spiritual reality any more effectively than a plugged-in person in the Matrix can distinguish the (mostly) seamless Matrix from reality? Falling even farther down the rabbit hole, how can a Christian soul distinguish whether the source of his or her thoughts is natural or supernatural? How does a Christian increase soulfulness in practice so he or she lives not in human "strength" (or brainpower) but instead in divine insight as contacted by the soul?

The question isn't theoretical or academic! It should be confronted by all Christians who believe in a living and active tripartite God, for their answer will shape how they respond when they have a thought that might be from Him. Is a sudden impulse to do a specific good act a supernatural "nudge" by the Spirit or the end result of an undirected (subliminally-triggered?) series of neuron "tickles"? Is a "crazy" idea a mission from God or is it from the same peculiar part of consciousness that in children suggests jumping off tall structures?

Of course, I'm familiar with many of the usual checkpoints for atypical spiritual directives (atypical meaning it isn't one of the easily-understood universal directives like "stop acting arrogant"). Christians should examine their motivations, compare the directive to the Word, pray more about it, ask other Christians for advice, look for tangible "confirmations" of it, etc. I firmly believe that Christians should also evaluate the foolishness of the directive when deciding if it's from God, but on the other hand many people have built a convincing exegetical case that godly wisdom has a tendency to appear foolish to human minds.

While those checkpoints are excellent, anyone of a scientific bent will quickly reply that falsification is easier than proof; it's easier to say "for sure" that a spiritual "directive" that contradicts the Word isn't from God than to say "for sure" that a spiritual directive that meets the approval of three other Christians is from God. In the end, with our souls encased in the "Matrix" of physical reality, we can't reach absolute certainty about our distinctions. A leap via faith and trust is inevitable. The leap may include a discomforting mental shift from "Does this directive match the God I imagine?" to "Do I need to revise the God I imagine to match this directive from the God who is what He is and not merely whom I imagine?"

Dually Noted

However, the question of how to sift physical reality from spiritual reality (or sift the Matrix from reality in the Matrix) runs deeper than practical concerns. According to direct quotes from experienced leader Morpheus in the Matrix, the reason why the Matrix can be a perfect trap is that all human sensations arise through the internal actions of the nervous system and brain. "If real is what you can feel, smell, taste and see, then 'real' is simply electrical signals interpreted by your brain." "Do you believe that my being stronger or faster has anything to do with my muscles in this place [the Matrix]? Do you think that's air you're breathing now?" "Like everyone else you were born into bondage. Into a prison that you cannot taste or see or touch. A prison for your mind."

"Fine," the audience might say. "Regardless of defining mental sensations as nothing more than raw sense data, people can still freely think for themselves. The mind or soul remains an independent piece able to react to sensations however it chooses." Unfortunately, this opinion is flawed under close examination.

Once the audience concedes that sensations are just occurrences in the nervous system, there's no theoretical obstacle to tracing the "lifecycle" of one of those sensations, especially in simplified form. The sensation starts when something outside or inside (infected appendix?) the human body changes. That original change causes a change in a neuron. (Alternatively, the plugged-in human's neurons are jiggled by the Matrix.) The neuron's change has the side effect of changing other neurons. Eventually the chain reaction reaches a part of the brain that receives that category of sensations. Then through the unimaginably dense interconnections that characterize the cortex, the sensation produces "waves" of activity across other brain areas, perhaps including the ones specialized for speech. After a period of time relatively lengthy by the rapid-fire standards of nerve conduction yet considered short by people, some of the motor-control brain areas start another chain reaction among neurons but this time toward the mouth. The mouth says, "Yeowch!" or "Narf!" or whistles "Whew!"

Doubtless some readers anticipate the question this little cartoonish sketch of a sensation's lifecycle is leading up to: in the scenario where and when is the separation between perceiver/brain and decision-maker/mind/soul? Crudely put, how does the brain "make room" for the mind inside the cramped skull? In Matrix terms, doesn't being plugged in mean that someone's very brain is a part of the Matrix, and if so why and how does someone retain the ability to make decisions?

Traditionally, the solution to this conundrums of this sort is to split reality into dual parts, the physical and the non-physical. The brain and the soul reside in opposite realities. Each soul is intimately bound to one brain, and that one brain is its only window into physical reality because souls don't literally see through another's eyes.

Finally, the earnest believer in dual realities faces a last Matrix challenge. It portrays software "agents" occupying the brains of plugged-in people, which has led some to speculate why the machines didn't originally follow Smith's clean solution of agents just replacing everybody. But according to dual realities, if a hypothetical Matrix gained total control of a person's physical-reality brain, would the person's non-physical-reality soul be free and independent regardless? Comparing and contrasting this hypothetical with the biblical accounts of demonic possession is left up to the reader.

better Christianity through foreign languages?

One of my recurring themes here is that words are no more AND no less than symbols. Since the purpose of symbols is to transport ideas, any symbol's value is dependent on: 1) significance, which is the value of the transported idea; 2) precision, which is the success of the symbol in transporting the idea. It's pointless to judge a symbol's value based on other criteria than those two.

That's why I'm flummoxed by Christians who insist on symbolizing Christian ideas with words from languages other than their own (often ancient Hebrew and Greek, and it's apparent that correct pronunciation isn't at all necessary!). I'm not offended by it, but I'm suspicious of their motives. Why do it, especially when equivalent symbols of similar convenience are available in their own languages? I dearly hope their motives aren't one or more of the following.

• Vanity. The ostentatious usage of foreign words can be a peacock-like display to impress others by one's attainment of great knowledge, spirituality, etc.
  
• Cliquishness. An excellent method for members of a clique to differentiate themselves from outsiders is to consistently make the same relatively obscure word choices, such as foreign words specially selected by members of the clique.
  
• Conjuring. The communicator carefully chooses some foreign words and/or languages based on the assumption that God will be more pleased/honored and therefore more likely to respond.

cultural norms and divine norms

In the blog charter (first post ever, back when there were more posts labeled "Mitigating the Objections" than "Christian Errors") I wrote that the online arguments I seek to confront are in fact centuries old. I believe that a similarly ancient history applies to many of the common mistakes committed by people as they seek to live as Christians.

(And to digress momentarily, a third belief of mine is that people who don't learn about the great controversies of Christian theology are destined to relive such. Recently I heard some people giving their opinions about when and how many times baptism should happen, but I strongly suspect none of them knows what "Anabaptist" means.)

Perhaps the most quintessential Christian mistake is to exalt a cultural norm into a divine norm. Examples abound, probably because Christians stumble into it through a variety of routes:

• As a culture and its norms change, Christians accustomed to the previous set of norms may not be willing to fairly evaluate the changes. "In the Christian culture of my past, we'd never ______!"
  
• Christians originally invent a particular practice or prohibition in order to aggressively pursue God or prevent wrongdoing. Then other Christians assume that the practice or prohibition is not only recommended but necessary for all "true" Christians.
  
• Within any culture, conformance to established norms (formal or informal, written or unwritten) is part of indicating one's status. Violating those norms reduces status, and low status reduces credibility, and low credibility reduces the success of evangelism. Therefore, just as Paul's letters instruct, for the purpose of evangelism Christians should adhere to cultural norms that aren't sins. But as they do so, they shouldn't confuse the cultural definition of a "good" person with the Christian definition. "'Everyone' knows that good people don't have that hair style. This is an affront against God!"
• A more contentious category is cultural norms among Christians in regard to prayer, worship, interpersonal interaction, biblical interpretation, and organizational hierarchy. I opt not to delve into it any more than I have in previous entries, except to suggest that these differences often aren't as important or God-pleasing as people assume.