I was chatting recently with a woman who is the accountant at a "seeker friendly" church. (If you are not familiar with that term "seeker friendly," it means the services primarily address people who are not yet Christians, so the messages are often very basic and evangelistic in nature.)
She said since the church adopted that format some years ago the growth has been astonishing. Many people have made committments to Jesus and the church has grown so much that it now needs larger facilities.
Wonderful! But on the other hand, she said, older members are leaving. She said people hang around for about five years and then go to the church up the street (well, a lot of them do). That church, she said, is more "discipleship" oriented, helping people who are already Christians to grow in their walk with God.
In discussing this we agreed that people just don't want to be stuck in first grade for the rest of their lives.
Anyway, in addition to kind of hurting the pastor's feelings, the people who are leaving her church are the ones who do most of the giving. She said it takes a few years for people to get into the habit of giving, and then when they do, they trot off to the church up the street.
I joked that maybe her church and the church up the street should enter into a partnership.
However, as I've been considering this since our chat, I'm not sure it is a big problem. Maybe churches should specialize, and maybe seeker churches should just consider that their ministry is reaching non-Christians and accomodate themselves to people leaving after a while. Or maybe seeker and discipleship churches really should form partnerships. At minimum, it seems to me that seeker friendly churches need to realize that if they want to hold on to people, they need to provide some paths for them to really deepen their walks with God.
Saturday, August 26, 2006
Sunday, May 28, 2006
Is Belief Intolerant?
I just had an annoying conversation with a high school student who said that "Christians are worse than everybody else."
They are? Christians are worse than everybody else?
In our discussion, it turned out she didn't mean they did bad things (though I was willing to concede that they may), but rather that they hold their beliefs to be true and other people's beliefs to be false, which, of course, made them intolerant.
Sigh. This is so discouraging.
Anybody who holds any belief about anything can be painted with the same brush. By believing something about a topic, you are automatically saying that different beliefs about the same topic are wrong - maybe not entirely wrong - but wrong in some respect. And if you believe someone is wrong, then according the current tortured definition of "tolerance," you are intolerant.
To take a simple example, if you believe 2 plus 2 equals 4, the corollary is that you do not believe they add up to 7 (you intolerant slime ball!). And if you believe 2 plus 2 equals 13, then you also believe the corollary, which is that those who hold that 2 plus 2 equals 4 are wrong. (You're still intolerant.)
Nor does it make the slightest difference how tactfully you express your belief; you are still saying - if only by implication - that someone else is wrong.
Some may say that they believe all beliefs are equally valid and worthy of respect. On the surface that sounds very broadminded, but in fact, it is precisely the same as any other belief. By saying all beliefs are equally valid and worthy of respect, you are saying that those people are wrong who believe only some beliefs are valid and only some beliefs are worthy of respect. (You're as intolerant as the rest of us.)
So, basically, this student's argument is that Christians are intolerant because they believe in Christianity. And logically, it also means that geographers are intolerant if they believe Pensacola is in Florida, and zoologists are intolerant if they believe snakes are reptiles, and - need I say this? - it means this student is intolerant because she believes Christians are intolerant. In short, it means everyone is intolerant any time they hold anything to be true, which is so dumb it's hard to imagine I'm wasting my time writing about it.
They are? Christians are worse than everybody else?
In our discussion, it turned out she didn't mean they did bad things (though I was willing to concede that they may), but rather that they hold their beliefs to be true and other people's beliefs to be false, which, of course, made them intolerant.
Sigh. This is so discouraging.
Anybody who holds any belief about anything can be painted with the same brush. By believing something about a topic, you are automatically saying that different beliefs about the same topic are wrong - maybe not entirely wrong - but wrong in some respect. And if you believe someone is wrong, then according the current tortured definition of "tolerance," you are intolerant.
To take a simple example, if you believe 2 plus 2 equals 4, the corollary is that you do not believe they add up to 7 (you intolerant slime ball!). And if you believe 2 plus 2 equals 13, then you also believe the corollary, which is that those who hold that 2 plus 2 equals 4 are wrong. (You're still intolerant.)
Nor does it make the slightest difference how tactfully you express your belief; you are still saying - if only by implication - that someone else is wrong.
Some may say that they believe all beliefs are equally valid and worthy of respect. On the surface that sounds very broadminded, but in fact, it is precisely the same as any other belief. By saying all beliefs are equally valid and worthy of respect, you are saying that those people are wrong who believe only some beliefs are valid and only some beliefs are worthy of respect. (You're as intolerant as the rest of us.)
So, basically, this student's argument is that Christians are intolerant because they believe in Christianity. And logically, it also means that geographers are intolerant if they believe Pensacola is in Florida, and zoologists are intolerant if they believe snakes are reptiles, and - need I say this? - it means this student is intolerant because she believes Christians are intolerant. In short, it means everyone is intolerant any time they hold anything to be true, which is so dumb it's hard to imagine I'm wasting my time writing about it.
Friday, April 28, 2006
Founding Anaheim
I recently read a book called "Men to Match My Mountains," by Irving Stone, about the history of the Western United States. Fairly good, but one thing that struck me as particularly interesting was the description of how the city of Anaheim, in Southern California, was founded.
The idea for the city, the book says, occured in 1857 to a group of Germans living in San Francisco who found the weather there a bit moist for their liking. (Obviously they were not looking for weather that reminded them of home.) So, 50 families each chipped in $750 to buy 1,165 acres in Southern California. They didn't all immediately move south, however. Instead, while they continued to live in the San Francisco area, they hired people in Southern California to divide up the land into 20-acre lots, build an irrigation canal, lay out a 40-acre town site in the middle, and fence in the community with willow trees. Then, when the vines began to bear fruit, the whole colony moved south to their new home.
But, because the properties were not identical in value, a committee assigned a value to each one, then the families drew lots for the properties. If they got a good lot, they paid the colony company extra money; if they got a poor lot, the company reimbursed them.
Clever... and fair.
I know that founding cities still happens occasionally (developers sometimes create cities near existing population centers, for example), but the idea of getting a group of likeminded people together to invest in a town and then carrying it out so methodically is pretty cool. Also, I thought the system the Germans adopted was very wise; they stayed up north - presumably working at their regular jobs - while they created jobs for themselves down south, then, when things were up and running, they just moved in and started working. Worth thinking about if you're planning to start a city. ;-)
The idea for the city, the book says, occured in 1857 to a group of Germans living in San Francisco who found the weather there a bit moist for their liking. (Obviously they were not looking for weather that reminded them of home.) So, 50 families each chipped in $750 to buy 1,165 acres in Southern California. They didn't all immediately move south, however. Instead, while they continued to live in the San Francisco area, they hired people in Southern California to divide up the land into 20-acre lots, build an irrigation canal, lay out a 40-acre town site in the middle, and fence in the community with willow trees. Then, when the vines began to bear fruit, the whole colony moved south to their new home.
But, because the properties were not identical in value, a committee assigned a value to each one, then the families drew lots for the properties. If they got a good lot, they paid the colony company extra money; if they got a poor lot, the company reimbursed them.
Clever... and fair.
I know that founding cities still happens occasionally (developers sometimes create cities near existing population centers, for example), but the idea of getting a group of likeminded people together to invest in a town and then carrying it out so methodically is pretty cool. Also, I thought the system the Germans adopted was very wise; they stayed up north - presumably working at their regular jobs - while they created jobs for themselves down south, then, when things were up and running, they just moved in and started working. Worth thinking about if you're planning to start a city. ;-)
Sunday, April 02, 2006
Attending Church with a Rabbit

However... in the congregation was a large pink rabbit, a fairie, a woman with large butterfly wings and a man who kept jumping 15 or 20 feet into the air.
What is this weird place and how did I get here?
Well, I had read about a cyberworld called Second Life, a beautifully designed online place that in an approximate way resembles reality. In this world people can construct buildings, wander around, fly (without an airplane), meet people and party - especially party. And, in wandering around, I discovered that probably a lot of the partying is way beyond my level of comfort.
Anyway, I wondered if there was a Christian presence in this "world." I poked around a bit and found that, indeed, there is, so last Sunday I rushed home from my own church and attended the ALM CyberChurch. It was really great! I was welcomed at the door; the sermon was excellent; there was a fellowship time in an adjoining room after church, and I felt I had been in God's presence.
I shared this experience with my real-world fellowship, and after discussing it I think we all concluded that - with some reservations - cyberchurch is a useful tool, but some folks were a bit afraid that it might draw people in so much that they don't attend a real-world church. And one man felt because you wear a cyberbody that people would find it harder to get to know the real you.
Here are my thoughts on these objections:
- I think that probably every advance in communications has raised the possibility that people will withdraw from face-to-face contact and rely on a communications tool for their spiritual life. I'll bet that in Gutenberg's day some people were afraid that printing and distributing the Bible would cause people to withdraw and take their spiritual nourishment from solitary reading. The same might be said of radio or television ministries. And, frankly, I think those people have a point. It is possible some people will prefer a cyberchurch to a real-world church.
I'd generally prefer people don't abandon real-world churches since a cyberchurch is only an approximation of real people getting together in real bodies to worship God - though in some cases I think a cyber-church would be better than attending a dead real-world church.
- On the question of people hiding behind masks in the cyberworld, I think that may be true, but I think it probably works both ways. While your real face and manerisms can reveal much of your inner self to a discerning observer, I wonder if people in the cyberworld, who can choose their own bodies, aren't in a way choosing a body they believe expresses their deeper self. Also, I'd ask if the anonymity of the cyber-world doesn't make people feel a bit safer to reveal their inner selves since nobody need know who they are in the real world.
I don't think a cyber-church is for everybody. In fact, I think my visits will probably be just occasional, but I can think of some examples where they'd be a huge blessing:
1. For people who are physically isolated.
2. For those with health problems who are unable to leave their homes.
3. As an outreach to various groups of people. You could have a traditional church, a contemporary one, a punk one, a goth one, churches for various ethnicities. Whatever. I think you will find the cost of building facilities in the cyber-world compares favorably with the cost of building in the real world.
4. As a meeting place for Christians in closed countries for whom it is dangerous - or too distant - to get together in person.
5. For a mid-week fellowship group.
6. As a place for fellowships begun in the real world to continue when people move away. For example, a college Christian group could maintain itself when everybody graduates.
For a good introduction to the concept of cyber churches, see the Living Sounds Web page by the pastor of the ALM CyberChurch. If you'd like to visit the church, you need to sign up for Second Life (a basic account is free) and download the special Second Life browser. When you've done that, you can go directly to the church by clicking here: secondlife://Vine/173/75 .
Saturday, January 14, 2006
Meaningless, Meaningless!
What a peculiar document is the biblical book of Ecclesiastes!
"'Meaningless, meaningless,' says the Teacher. 'Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless.'" The Teacher starts with that happy thought and winds up with it, yet sprinkled throughout the book are hints of something that is not at all meaningless.
One commentator suggested the author is taking on the persona (perhaps from his own experience) of the worldly person. I think the author is addressing the person who perhaps believes in God in a casual sort of way, but who is really just a materialist. For his discussion the Teacher adopts this worldly viewpoint and drives it unrelentingly to its logical and hopeless conclusion, but all the time dropping hints of something different and better.
Everything, he says, is going to crumble, and you yourself will die. And he proceeds along those lines in kind of a stream-of-consiousness fashion, poisonously juxtaposing comments about enjoying yourself with comments about your ultimately meaningless end. Or, in another case, saying a stillborn is better off than the living because the child has never experienced the pain of life on earth, while in another section saying that a live dog is better off than a dead lion. So, is it better to be dead or alive? The materialist could follow either line of logic, and the Teacher explores them both: Life's meaningless so I might as well just die, or, Life's all I've got so I should enjoy it while I can.
Mr. Cheerful he is not.
But then he goes and drops these little clues all over the place about the spiritual.
Without God, he says, "who can eat or find enjoyment." God has "set eternity in the hearts of men;" "everything God does will endure forever;" what God has done is "so that men will revere him;" "God will bring to judgement;" when man dies "he takes nothing from his labor that he can carry in his hand;" "I know it will go better with God-fearing men;" "Remember your Creator in the days of your youth;" on death "the spirit returns to God who gave it." Plus, there are lots of proverbs instructing people in how to live and, of course, there is the conclusion that men should keep God's commands and that God "will bring every deed into judgement."
His everyday proverbs on how to live and about doing good make no sense if the ultimate spiritual end is destruction. In that case, why do good unless it is convenient? His comment that God will judge makes no sense if that judgement is limited to this life. Listen to him: "Although a wicked man commits a hundred crimes and still lives a long time, I know that it will go better with God-fearing men." I mean, he's just admitted that sometimes the wicked live a long time, and if, after that, everything is over, judgement makes no sense at all. And why should men revere or remember God if spiritually - not just physically - the good and bad are both going to just be dead? Why would God put eternity in the hearts of men if there was nothing besides death? Just to mock us? And listen to this big hint - Hint? More like a flat-out statement - that the Teacher drops when he says that on death "the spirit returns to God who gave it." Wow! That's what lives on! The spirit.
But even on the spiritual level, the emphasis is on God, not on what we can do. What God does "will endure forever" while nothing we do for ourselves will last for long. It makes me think of the gospel, that Jesus did it all for us. It's not our work. It's his. We just need to trust in him so that when our spirits return to God, as Ecclesiastes says, we will stand in our spiritual selves before God with our sins cleansed and ready to experience the joy of that eternity that God has placed in our hearts.
"'Meaningless, meaningless,' says the Teacher. 'Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless.'" The Teacher starts with that happy thought and winds up with it, yet sprinkled throughout the book are hints of something that is not at all meaningless.
One commentator suggested the author is taking on the persona (perhaps from his own experience) of the worldly person. I think the author is addressing the person who perhaps believes in God in a casual sort of way, but who is really just a materialist. For his discussion the Teacher adopts this worldly viewpoint and drives it unrelentingly to its logical and hopeless conclusion, but all the time dropping hints of something different and better.
Everything, he says, is going to crumble, and you yourself will die. And he proceeds along those lines in kind of a stream-of-consiousness fashion, poisonously juxtaposing comments about enjoying yourself with comments about your ultimately meaningless end. Or, in another case, saying a stillborn is better off than the living because the child has never experienced the pain of life on earth, while in another section saying that a live dog is better off than a dead lion. So, is it better to be dead or alive? The materialist could follow either line of logic, and the Teacher explores them both: Life's meaningless so I might as well just die, or, Life's all I've got so I should enjoy it while I can.
Mr. Cheerful he is not.
But then he goes and drops these little clues all over the place about the spiritual.
Without God, he says, "who can eat or find enjoyment." God has "set eternity in the hearts of men;" "everything God does will endure forever;" what God has done is "so that men will revere him;" "God will bring to judgement;" when man dies "he takes nothing from his labor that he can carry in his hand;" "I know it will go better with God-fearing men;" "Remember your Creator in the days of your youth;" on death "the spirit returns to God who gave it." Plus, there are lots of proverbs instructing people in how to live and, of course, there is the conclusion that men should keep God's commands and that God "will bring every deed into judgement."
His everyday proverbs on how to live and about doing good make no sense if the ultimate spiritual end is destruction. In that case, why do good unless it is convenient? His comment that God will judge makes no sense if that judgement is limited to this life. Listen to him: "Although a wicked man commits a hundred crimes and still lives a long time, I know that it will go better with God-fearing men." I mean, he's just admitted that sometimes the wicked live a long time, and if, after that, everything is over, judgement makes no sense at all. And why should men revere or remember God if spiritually - not just physically - the good and bad are both going to just be dead? Why would God put eternity in the hearts of men if there was nothing besides death? Just to mock us? And listen to this big hint - Hint? More like a flat-out statement - that the Teacher drops when he says that on death "the spirit returns to God who gave it." Wow! That's what lives on! The spirit.
But even on the spiritual level, the emphasis is on God, not on what we can do. What God does "will endure forever" while nothing we do for ourselves will last for long. It makes me think of the gospel, that Jesus did it all for us. It's not our work. It's his. We just need to trust in him so that when our spirits return to God, as Ecclesiastes says, we will stand in our spiritual selves before God with our sins cleansed and ready to experience the joy of that eternity that God has placed in our hearts.
Friday, December 30, 2005
The Philosophy of Elves and Dragons
I've been reading Christopher Paolini's Eldest, the second massive volume in his fantasy dragons-and-wizards trilogy begun with Eragon.
Reading their thoughts, I've come to the conclusion that despite their reputation for wisdom, you shouldn't put much stock in the philosophy of elves and dragons.
For example, on page 542 (hardback), Eragon is talking with the elf Oromis about elvish beliefs and the elf says, "I can tell you that in the millennia we elves have studied nature, we have never witnessed an instance where the rules that govern the world have been broken. That is, we have never seen a miracle. Many events have defied our ability to explain, but we are convinced that we failed because we are still woefully ignorant about the universe and not because a diety altered the workings of nature."
So, Oromis says the elves have witnessed events that "have defied our ability to explain," but nevertheless he is quite certain that those events are not miracles. And why couldn't those unexplained events be miracles?
Well, Oromis explains, the elves believe these events can't be miracles because the elves are still very ignorant of how the universe works. Hmmm... So elves don't believe a diety might work miracles because they're ignorant. Sorry, Oromis, the logic escapes me.
Then, to make it sillier, on the next page Oromis critisizes dwarfs for sometimes relying upon faith rather than reason. Methinks, Oromis, that if you want an example of faith, you should look in a mirror.
Oromis follows up by saying that if the gods exist, "have they been good custodians?" He then cites death, sickness, poverty, tyranny and other miseries.
But perhaps Oromis should consider the possibility that the inhabitants of the land may be at fault, and if the diety were to shackle the hands and feet and minds of people (and elves and dwarfs) to prevent them from committing evil, wouldn't Oromis complain that the diety is a tyrant, and that he enslaves his subjects? I think you might, Oromis.
Finally, Oromis says this athiestic view makes for "a better world" because "we are responsible for our own actions."
Oh, Oromis! The existance of God does not in the slightest take away our responsibility for our actions. If I steal from my employer does that mean I'm not responsible because my employer exists? Please don't talk nonsense, Oromis.
And then there's Eragon's dragon Saphira.
Eragon asks about her beliefs and Saphira replies, "Dragons have never believed in higher powers. Why should we when deer and other prey consider us to be a higher power?"
Uhh... I don't think Saphira had her coffee before replying. Let's just flip it around:
"Dragons have always believed in higher powers. Why shouldn't we when deer and other prey consider us to be a higher power?"
In other words, if Saphira is a higher power to the deer, why can't there be a higher power to Saphira?
Well, actually there is, and because writing the next 600-page book will no doubt take a while, author Christopher Paolini has plenty of time to get his subjects thinking straight. After all, he is a higher power to both Oromis and Saphira.
Reading their thoughts, I've come to the conclusion that despite their reputation for wisdom, you shouldn't put much stock in the philosophy of elves and dragons.
For example, on page 542 (hardback), Eragon is talking with the elf Oromis about elvish beliefs and the elf says, "I can tell you that in the millennia we elves have studied nature, we have never witnessed an instance where the rules that govern the world have been broken. That is, we have never seen a miracle. Many events have defied our ability to explain, but we are convinced that we failed because we are still woefully ignorant about the universe and not because a diety altered the workings of nature."
So, Oromis says the elves have witnessed events that "have defied our ability to explain," but nevertheless he is quite certain that those events are not miracles. And why couldn't those unexplained events be miracles?
Well, Oromis explains, the elves believe these events can't be miracles because the elves are still very ignorant of how the universe works. Hmmm... So elves don't believe a diety might work miracles because they're ignorant. Sorry, Oromis, the logic escapes me.
Then, to make it sillier, on the next page Oromis critisizes dwarfs for sometimes relying upon faith rather than reason. Methinks, Oromis, that if you want an example of faith, you should look in a mirror.
Oromis follows up by saying that if the gods exist, "have they been good custodians?" He then cites death, sickness, poverty, tyranny and other miseries.
But perhaps Oromis should consider the possibility that the inhabitants of the land may be at fault, and if the diety were to shackle the hands and feet and minds of people (and elves and dwarfs) to prevent them from committing evil, wouldn't Oromis complain that the diety is a tyrant, and that he enslaves his subjects? I think you might, Oromis.
Finally, Oromis says this athiestic view makes for "a better world" because "we are responsible for our own actions."
Oh, Oromis! The existance of God does not in the slightest take away our responsibility for our actions. If I steal from my employer does that mean I'm not responsible because my employer exists? Please don't talk nonsense, Oromis.
And then there's Eragon's dragon Saphira.
Eragon asks about her beliefs and Saphira replies, "Dragons have never believed in higher powers. Why should we when deer and other prey consider us to be a higher power?"
Uhh... I don't think Saphira had her coffee before replying. Let's just flip it around:
"Dragons have always believed in higher powers. Why shouldn't we when deer and other prey consider us to be a higher power?"
In other words, if Saphira is a higher power to the deer, why can't there be a higher power to Saphira?
Well, actually there is, and because writing the next 600-page book will no doubt take a while, author Christopher Paolini has plenty of time to get his subjects thinking straight. After all, he is a higher power to both Oromis and Saphira.
Sunday, October 16, 2005
Amish Entrepreneurs
I recently finished a book about how the Amish are leaving the farm because of the high cost of farmlan, and are starting businesses, and how, despite having less than a high school education, with little experience in business, with very little familiarity with technology and, of course, with limits on how they can use technology, they are doing better at it than a lot of non-Amish.
I was particularly struck by this statistic, at the start of chapter 12 of Amish Enterprise, by Donald Kraybill and Steven Nolt:
Wow! How do they do it?
Well, the authors don't lump all the reasons for their success in one place, so I'll miss some, but here are the reasons I remember:
- They start small, often in their homes or in outbuildings near their home.
- They start (and stay) simple, which keeps their costs down. Their culture frowns on luxuries and showing off, either for them personally or in their businesses. So their overhead is low. They're not big on splashy advertising, either, so they - to some extent - avoid one of the big costs of business - marketing. (I guess when you avoid self-promotion, you really have to rely on word of mouth.)
- They don't mind hard work (they're coming from a farming background, remember) and are willing to work long hours. What's interesting is that they don't regard work and family as separate and competing. They try (not always successfully) to make it a family activity. Mom and Dad run the business and the kids sweep up or do other chores.
- They are scrupulously honest. People like doing business with people they trust. Duh!
- They focus on high quality.
- They live simply, which means "cheaply," so they can charge less and still make a profit, and since they're not spending the money on indulgences, much of the money they make goes back into building their businesses.
- They help each other. If a business is having trouble, other Amish business people help out.
There are other things, like - well - just being Amish, which attracts customers because of its novelty, but the other things I can think of aren't transferable. If you pick up the book, by the way, it's a sociological study, not really a business book
This also reminds me of a most excellent business book, called Good to Great (Jim Collins), which I read a while ago. The one thing I remember without reviewing is what the author regards as the main reason why some companies that are just chugging along in their industry suddenly (apparently suddenly) break out of the pack and become excellent and remain so for at least 15 years. It's not what you think. It's not a great plan; it's not a brilliant CEO; it's not clever financing or deal making; it's not a revolutionary product, it's not "getting control of the purse strings" - it's a humble but determined CEO. He (or she) is determined to make the company successful, but figures he doesn't have the skills to do it himself, so he humbly hires the best possible people.
I was particularly struck by this statistic, at the start of chapter 12 of Amish Enterprise, by Donald Kraybill and Steven Nolt:
The story of Amish enterprise is largely a story of success, with only scattered tarnishes of failure. The default rate among small business in general is rather sobering, however. Nearly one-quarter of new American firms fold within two years, and some 63 percent close their doors within six years. During the 1980s, the rate of business failure nearly matched that of the Great Depression. The Amish launched more than 40 percent of their business ventures in the 1980s, but surprisingly, fewer than 5 percent of the Amish operations failed.
Wow! How do they do it?
Well, the authors don't lump all the reasons for their success in one place, so I'll miss some, but here are the reasons I remember:
- They start small, often in their homes or in outbuildings near their home.
- They start (and stay) simple, which keeps their costs down. Their culture frowns on luxuries and showing off, either for them personally or in their businesses. So their overhead is low. They're not big on splashy advertising, either, so they - to some extent - avoid one of the big costs of business - marketing. (I guess when you avoid self-promotion, you really have to rely on word of mouth.)
- They don't mind hard work (they're coming from a farming background, remember) and are willing to work long hours. What's interesting is that they don't regard work and family as separate and competing. They try (not always successfully) to make it a family activity. Mom and Dad run the business and the kids sweep up or do other chores.
- They are scrupulously honest. People like doing business with people they trust. Duh!
- They focus on high quality.
- They live simply, which means "cheaply," so they can charge less and still make a profit, and since they're not spending the money on indulgences, much of the money they make goes back into building their businesses.
- They help each other. If a business is having trouble, other Amish business people help out.
There are other things, like - well - just being Amish, which attracts customers because of its novelty, but the other things I can think of aren't transferable. If you pick up the book, by the way, it's a sociological study, not really a business book
This also reminds me of a most excellent business book, called Good to Great (Jim Collins), which I read a while ago. The one thing I remember without reviewing is what the author regards as the main reason why some companies that are just chugging along in their industry suddenly (apparently suddenly) break out of the pack and become excellent and remain so for at least 15 years. It's not what you think. It's not a great plan; it's not a brilliant CEO; it's not clever financing or deal making; it's not a revolutionary product, it's not "getting control of the purse strings" - it's a humble but determined CEO. He (or she) is determined to make the company successful, but figures he doesn't have the skills to do it himself, so he humbly hires the best possible people.
Sunday, August 28, 2005
Rockefeller's Philanthropy
A while ago I finished Titan, about the curious life of John D. Rockefeller, the founder of Standard Oil. Author Ron Chernow paints a picture of a contradictory and confusing but fascinating man, on the one side a hard-edged businessman who would cross over into illegal and immoral practices in his quest to succeed, but on the other side, a man who was actually quite generous and fair in his business practices and - far more interesting - a man who did amazing things with his money.
To say all I can on Rockefeller's positive side, he thought he was doing good - all the time. He thought cooperation in the oil industry was better than competition, so he tried to create a monopoly (he never quite succeeded). He actually overpaid for oil refineries and people sometimes started refineries just so Standard Oil would buy them - at inflated prices. Rockefeller was scrupulous in paying his debts, he never took on the trappings of nobility, as did some of his rich contemporaries, he always attended a simple Baptist church rather than moving up to some socially more acceptable church, and he tried to provide fuel to the world at cheap prices. And, as I mentioned, he gave generously, and when he did he seldom put his name on things ("Do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing"), as did Andrew Carnegie.
On the negative side, if companies refused to deal with him he tried to drive them out of business, and in doing that he bribed public officials, tried (and failed) to block a competitor's pipeline by buying up land in its path, manipulated railroad prices, tactically undersold competitors to drive them out of business, and so forth. When the federal government wanted to regulate the new post-Civil War interstate commerce, Rockefeller had provided them with a handy list of what to legislate against.
How Rockefeller internally reconciled some of his practices to his Christian faith, I have no idea. Chernow certainly doesn't seem to have figured that out either.
Anyway, his philanthropies were amazing! There his Christianity shone.
Hookworm, once a debilitating problem in the Southern US states, is no longer a big problem. Why? Because Dr. Charles Stiles discovered it could be cured with some cheap medicine, and though his discovery was met with ridicule, Rockefeller believed, and basically paid to erradicate the problem. Rockefeller also started a public-private partnership to build thousands of schools across the South. He founded the Rockefeller Institute for Medical Research, the first medical research lab in the country, whose discoveries have saved thousands if not tens of thousands of lives. He was also the money behind the founding of the University of Chicago. Lots of other stuff, too.
What strikes me about his giving was that it was thoughtful and focused and for the most part the results of his giving could be fairly precisely measured.
It occurs to me that there are problems - such as the ones Rockefeller focused on - that can pretty much be solved once and for all, but there are other kinds of problems ("the poor you will have with you always") that are less amenable to a one-time solution. Necessary as it may be to give to charities addressing the less solvable problems, I suspect that the better an organization can define a problem and measure success in combating it, the easier it will be to persuade people to contribute.
To say all I can on Rockefeller's positive side, he thought he was doing good - all the time. He thought cooperation in the oil industry was better than competition, so he tried to create a monopoly (he never quite succeeded). He actually overpaid for oil refineries and people sometimes started refineries just so Standard Oil would buy them - at inflated prices. Rockefeller was scrupulous in paying his debts, he never took on the trappings of nobility, as did some of his rich contemporaries, he always attended a simple Baptist church rather than moving up to some socially more acceptable church, and he tried to provide fuel to the world at cheap prices. And, as I mentioned, he gave generously, and when he did he seldom put his name on things ("Do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing"), as did Andrew Carnegie.
On the negative side, if companies refused to deal with him he tried to drive them out of business, and in doing that he bribed public officials, tried (and failed) to block a competitor's pipeline by buying up land in its path, manipulated railroad prices, tactically undersold competitors to drive them out of business, and so forth. When the federal government wanted to regulate the new post-Civil War interstate commerce, Rockefeller had provided them with a handy list of what to legislate against.
How Rockefeller internally reconciled some of his practices to his Christian faith, I have no idea. Chernow certainly doesn't seem to have figured that out either.
Anyway, his philanthropies were amazing! There his Christianity shone.
Hookworm, once a debilitating problem in the Southern US states, is no longer a big problem. Why? Because Dr. Charles Stiles discovered it could be cured with some cheap medicine, and though his discovery was met with ridicule, Rockefeller believed, and basically paid to erradicate the problem. Rockefeller also started a public-private partnership to build thousands of schools across the South. He founded the Rockefeller Institute for Medical Research, the first medical research lab in the country, whose discoveries have saved thousands if not tens of thousands of lives. He was also the money behind the founding of the University of Chicago. Lots of other stuff, too.
What strikes me about his giving was that it was thoughtful and focused and for the most part the results of his giving could be fairly precisely measured.
It occurs to me that there are problems - such as the ones Rockefeller focused on - that can pretty much be solved once and for all, but there are other kinds of problems ("the poor you will have with you always") that are less amenable to a one-time solution. Necessary as it may be to give to charities addressing the less solvable problems, I suspect that the better an organization can define a problem and measure success in combating it, the easier it will be to persuade people to contribute.
Friday, August 19, 2005
Freddy the Pig
I enjoy reading to my son a bit every night. He especially likes talking-animal books, so we started off with C.S. Lewis's Narnia Chronicles (awesome!), then we read several of Brian Jacques' Redwall series (quite good). We tackled Robin Hood, King Arthur, Treasure Island, Tom Sawyer, Huckleberry Finn, Jeanne Duprau's City of Ember (excellent!) and The People of Sparks (very good), Eragon, Booth Tarkington's Penrod and Penrod and Sam (old and excellent but with some racist - though not intentionally malicious - overtones), Despereaux (okay), Time Stops for No Mouse (good) and The Sands of Time (good), by Michael Hoeye, Ken Oppel's Silverwing (okay), Sunwing (okay), and Firewing (weird), A Cricket in Times Square, and we just finished Lloyd Alexander's series, The Book of Three (first book, fair, others, excellent). But now, what to read? What to read?
Well, for some reason I thought of a series I loved as a child, Walter Brooks Freddy the Pig books. I thought these 26-or-so books were long out of print, but - as I discovered in perusing Amazon - they have been brought back. Happy day! All's right with the world! We picked up Freddy the Cowboy at the library and are reading and enjoying it. I'd have preferred to start with Freddy the Detective, but you start where you can.
Here's a silly snippet. Freddy the pig is asking Quik (a mouse) if Howard (another mouse) can come for a visit:
My son likes it and so do I, so I think we have reading material to keep us busy for a long time.
Anyway, help revive the Freddy books! There's probably one or two of them left in your public library. Try one, and if your kids (or you) like it, the whole set is available on Amazon.
Well, for some reason I thought of a series I loved as a child, Walter Brooks Freddy the Pig books. I thought these 26-or-so books were long out of print, but - as I discovered in perusing Amazon - they have been brought back. Happy day! All's right with the world! We picked up Freddy the Cowboy at the library and are reading and enjoying it. I'd have preferred to start with Freddy the Detective, but you start where you can.
Here's a silly snippet. Freddy the pig is asking Quik (a mouse) if Howard (another mouse) can come for a visit:
"I suppose it'll be all right," he [Quik] said. "If he doesn't eat us out of house and home. I never knew a field mouse yet who didn't eat like a pi- I mean, like a pinguin," he said hurriedly.
"What's a pinguin?" Jinx [the cat] asked, and Howard said: "I think he means a penguin. They're very greedy creatures, though seldom seen in this neighborhood."
Quik grinned at him gratefully, but Freddy said: "Penguin nothing! He started to say 'pig' and then couldn't change it to anything that made sense."
My son likes it and so do I, so I think we have reading material to keep us busy for a long time.
Anyway, help revive the Freddy books! There's probably one or two of them left in your public library. Try one, and if your kids (or you) like it, the whole set is available on Amazon.
Sunday, August 07, 2005
Gouge Out Your Eye
And if your right eye causes you to sin, pluck it out, and cast it from you: for it is better for you that one of your members should perish, than that your whole body should be cast into hell. And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off, and cast it from you: for it is better for you that one of your members should perish, than that your whole body should be cast into hell. - Matthew 5:29-30
When Jesus said, "If your right eye causes you to sin, pluck it out" he was - I've heard - speaking metaphorically. Well... maybe. But maybe not. Perhaps instead he was giving a literal reply to a bad excuse he'd heard once too often.
I think Jesus was responding to the whine - probably as prevalent then as it is now - that goes like this: "Well, I just can't help it, I've got a wandering eye." Or, in the case of the hand, "I can't help it. I just have sticky fingers."
Okay, Jesus says, sighing a bit, I imagine, if it is really your eye that is dragging you into sin, then you really better gouge it out.
I can hear the whiner responding, "Uhhh, well, um, okay. I didn't literally mean my eye causes me to sin. My eye only does what I tell it to do."
Precisely!
And this, I think, is just what Jesus is trying to communicate. Don't blame your hand or eye. The sin comes from your heart, and you know it, and that is what needs to change.
When Jesus said, "If your right eye causes you to sin, pluck it out" he was - I've heard - speaking metaphorically. Well... maybe. But maybe not. Perhaps instead he was giving a literal reply to a bad excuse he'd heard once too often.
I think Jesus was responding to the whine - probably as prevalent then as it is now - that goes like this: "Well, I just can't help it, I've got a wandering eye." Or, in the case of the hand, "I can't help it. I just have sticky fingers."
Okay, Jesus says, sighing a bit, I imagine, if it is really your eye that is dragging you into sin, then you really better gouge it out.
I can hear the whiner responding, "Uhhh, well, um, okay. I didn't literally mean my eye causes me to sin. My eye only does what I tell it to do."
Precisely!
And this, I think, is just what Jesus is trying to communicate. Don't blame your hand or eye. The sin comes from your heart, and you know it, and that is what needs to change.
Saturday, July 30, 2005
Communism That Works
I've never been a communist, never wanted to be one, and never thought communism worked. But on that last point, while I'm confident I'm generally right, there's a group that proves me partially wrong.
I just finished a book on quite an interesting group of people, called the Hutterites, an Anabaptist Protestant group who date back to the Reformation. The Hutterites came to the conclusion that they should live communally, and have been doing so almost without interruption since the 1500s. Because of persecution they left Moravia (in what is now the Czech Republic) for the Ukraine, then moved to North America in the 1870s, and now they live in Alberta, Manitoba and Saskatchewan in Canada and in Montana and the Dakotas in the United States.
That a group has managed to live for such a long time communally strikes me as quite amazing since so many other communal groups have utterly failed. Here are a few of my thoughts about why they have survived:
Far from being atheistic - as was Russian communism - the Hutterites are deeply religious. They believe their reward is in heaven, and so they don't feel much need to "succeed" - in a financial sense - here on earth.
They're under no silly illusion that communal living is a utopia. They believe people have sinful tendencies, even in their "colonies," as they call their communes, so nobody is disillusioned when someone does something unchristian.
Their colonies are relatively small, numbering about 80 to 150. It seems to me that a smaller group like this can maintain a family feeling whereas a larger group cannot. In fact, the book, Hutterite Society (by John A Hostetler), makes this point, that the larger groups become prone to factions. To deal with that, the Hutterites intentionally split the colonies and create daughter colonies when they become too big.
They maintain a cultural distance from their neighbors. Their colonies are in isolated locations, the people don't mix much with non-Hutterites, they dress differently, they speak German as a first language (though they also learn English). I suspect this cultural distance makes colony members feel less at home outside the colony and thus makes it harder for colony members to leave, but at the same time I'd guess it probably annoys their neighbors, whom I suspect may feel looked-down-upon by the Hutterites.
They strongly teach their traditions but de-emphasize higher education, which they feel isn't useful for farm life and leads to independent thinking (they're probably right) and thus to a breakdown of communal life.
Although the Hutterites have not only survived, but grown dramatically in numbers, one thing that strikes me about their growth is that it is almost entirely by having children. Very few non-Hutterites ever become Hutterites.
I suspect this is because of the cultural distance I mentioned. I have a theory that for churches to grow by attracting new members, there is a sweet spot in cultural positioning. If the church is too far removed from society (as are the Hutterites and the Amish), growth by conversion drops to just about nothing. On the other hand, churches that simply reflect society have nothing to offer the seeker. If the church is just the same as the everyday world, why bother going?
I think that sweet spot for most churches is just to obey Christ. For me, that is adequately removed from everyday society. If you go a lot further, into cultural isolation, as do the Hutterites and Amish, I think you can minimize people defecting from Christ to the world, but the cost will be to minimize defections from the world to Christ.
I just finished a book on quite an interesting group of people, called the Hutterites, an Anabaptist Protestant group who date back to the Reformation. The Hutterites came to the conclusion that they should live communally, and have been doing so almost without interruption since the 1500s. Because of persecution they left Moravia (in what is now the Czech Republic) for the Ukraine, then moved to North America in the 1870s, and now they live in Alberta, Manitoba and Saskatchewan in Canada and in Montana and the Dakotas in the United States.
That a group has managed to live for such a long time communally strikes me as quite amazing since so many other communal groups have utterly failed. Here are a few of my thoughts about why they have survived:
Although the Hutterites have not only survived, but grown dramatically in numbers, one thing that strikes me about their growth is that it is almost entirely by having children. Very few non-Hutterites ever become Hutterites.
I suspect this is because of the cultural distance I mentioned. I have a theory that for churches to grow by attracting new members, there is a sweet spot in cultural positioning. If the church is too far removed from society (as are the Hutterites and the Amish), growth by conversion drops to just about nothing. On the other hand, churches that simply reflect society have nothing to offer the seeker. If the church is just the same as the everyday world, why bother going?
I think that sweet spot for most churches is just to obey Christ. For me, that is adequately removed from everyday society. If you go a lot further, into cultural isolation, as do the Hutterites and Amish, I think you can minimize people defecting from Christ to the world, but the cost will be to minimize defections from the world to Christ.
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
Visiting Saddleback Church
I've heard about Saddleback Church for years, so finally, last Sunday, my wife and I went, just to see what it is like. If you are not familiar with Saddleback, it is the church pastored by Rick Warren, author of The Purpose Driven Life.
The church is in Lake Forest, California, an Orange County town I'd never heard of except in connection with the church. The town is located somewhat inland, in a developing area that is still largely open. Huge tracts of land are still undeveloped. Also, while I'm sure the locals know how to avoid them, the main highways that take you to Lake Forest are toll roads, which are quite rare in California.
I'm certain Saddleback draws people who live far from Lake Forest, and I'd guess that many of those people have to pay the road toll to get there. That they're willing to do so is impressive.
The "driveway" to Saddleback, if you can call it that, is enormous. It is actually a road, Saddleback Parkway, which has its own traffic light at the main drag. It resembles the entrance to a mall, complete with a large but understated sign on a wall on the side of a berm.
As we drove in, the long driveway reminded us a bit of Legoland, with signs along the road welcoming us, and a very proficient staff that guided us to a parking spot. It was easy in and easy out, with the same roadside signs on the way out, this time thanking us for visiting.
The church campus reminded me of something between a park and an outdoor mall. In front of the main sanctuary (or whatever they call it) are some large, permanent plastic-walled tents. In each of them is an alternative service. The music is apparently different in each one, but the preaching - piped in by video from the sanctuary - is the same.
You approach the main building through a park-like mall area, with a stream, grassy hillock and various out-buildings, such as a coffee cafe. Then you climb some broad stairs, with a waterfall gurgling down the middle, and get to the sanctuary, which is modern and attractive but actually rather understated. I get the feeling they hired a mall architect and an amusement park architect and said, "Give it a mall-amusement park feeling and efficiency, but tone it down so it's not glitzy."
We were welcomed as we approached the sanctuary by greeters. Immediately inside, but outside the main meeting area, was an area apparently for parents with fussy kids. There was a video feed so they could participate in the service. We went in and were shown our seats by ushers who knew exactly where the few remaining empty seats were.
It appears the sanctuary is a multi-purpose room. Chairs on the floor appeared to be movable, and the seating in the back appeared to be on some sort of telescoping structure that would allow it all to be shoved back against the wall. Where we sat it was all stadium seating.
We got in a bit late and missed most of the music, but it seemed to be mostly praise songs. The front of the sanctuary was a low stage, with a simple metal podium for the speaker surrounded by colored bottles, which, it turned out, were to illustrate the biblical story of the widow who filled many bottles with a single small bottle of oil. Everything was expertly choreographed.
Behind and above the stage and running across the front of the sanctuary was - rather oddly - sort of a woodland scene, with trees and stuff. Curious.
The left and right walls of the sanctuary were made of clear glass, and on one side I could see people seated outside, some under patio umbrellas, but looking in. I imagine there were speakers so these sun-lovers could hear the service while watching it through the windows. The congregation was mostly white, with Asians and some Blacks and Hispanics.
The sermon was biblical, skillful and cheerful. The pastor (not Rick Warren today) was dressed casually, as was most of the congregation. The podium was flanked on either side by two giant video screens, showing the pastor close up, or switching to a slide to illustrate one of his points. Bible verses were chosen from various translations (I actually prefer sticking to one good translation). To illustrate one of his points, he brought out a woman from the congregation who described how God had used the death of her daughter to help her minister to other people.
In the bulletin (a four-color and very professional publication) was a note saying that visitors shouldn't feel obliged to give, that giving is for those who call Saddleback their church home. Cool! I was actually a bit surprised when they passed the plate. It was during the closing moments of the service and there wasn't a word said about it. The plate was just there all of a sudden. No announcement that it was coming; no pleading to give; nothing. I found this understated approach quite refreshing, and judging from the grounds, it apparently works.
After the service we wandered through an outdoor book store in front of the sanctuary, looked over some of the outlying buildings, and headed out.
A few thoughts:
While adopting modern marketing, it seems Saddleback has taken care not to become crass or commercial, though I think that with a moment's inattention it could go over the edge into glitz and self-indulgence. I think it should be very careful to avoid that.
Also, I think other churches shouldn't emulate Saddleback blindly, but should pick and choose what to implement. For example, it won't be possible for most churches in a city to have a walking mall and a huge parking lot. Land is too expensive, and besides, there also need to be neighborhood churches, which this definitely is not.
Finally, I think that a lot of what I have described is of secondary or tertiary importance. No matter how well organized or attractive or artistically choreographed, I don't think Saddleback would work without good, accessible and biblically focused teaching. Take that away and I think it would stagnate and die just like any other church that loses its way.
Overall, despite the long drive, it was well worth the visit. Blessings on you, Saddleback!
The church is in Lake Forest, California, an Orange County town I'd never heard of except in connection with the church. The town is located somewhat inland, in a developing area that is still largely open. Huge tracts of land are still undeveloped. Also, while I'm sure the locals know how to avoid them, the main highways that take you to Lake Forest are toll roads, which are quite rare in California.
I'm certain Saddleback draws people who live far from Lake Forest, and I'd guess that many of those people have to pay the road toll to get there. That they're willing to do so is impressive.
The "driveway" to Saddleback, if you can call it that, is enormous. It is actually a road, Saddleback Parkway, which has its own traffic light at the main drag. It resembles the entrance to a mall, complete with a large but understated sign on a wall on the side of a berm.
As we drove in, the long driveway reminded us a bit of Legoland, with signs along the road welcoming us, and a very proficient staff that guided us to a parking spot. It was easy in and easy out, with the same roadside signs on the way out, this time thanking us for visiting.
The church campus reminded me of something between a park and an outdoor mall. In front of the main sanctuary (or whatever they call it) are some large, permanent plastic-walled tents. In each of them is an alternative service. The music is apparently different in each one, but the preaching - piped in by video from the sanctuary - is the same.
You approach the main building through a park-like mall area, with a stream, grassy hillock and various out-buildings, such as a coffee cafe. Then you climb some broad stairs, with a waterfall gurgling down the middle, and get to the sanctuary, which is modern and attractive but actually rather understated. I get the feeling they hired a mall architect and an amusement park architect and said, "Give it a mall-amusement park feeling and efficiency, but tone it down so it's not glitzy."
We were welcomed as we approached the sanctuary by greeters. Immediately inside, but outside the main meeting area, was an area apparently for parents with fussy kids. There was a video feed so they could participate in the service. We went in and were shown our seats by ushers who knew exactly where the few remaining empty seats were.
It appears the sanctuary is a multi-purpose room. Chairs on the floor appeared to be movable, and the seating in the back appeared to be on some sort of telescoping structure that would allow it all to be shoved back against the wall. Where we sat it was all stadium seating.
We got in a bit late and missed most of the music, but it seemed to be mostly praise songs. The front of the sanctuary was a low stage, with a simple metal podium for the speaker surrounded by colored bottles, which, it turned out, were to illustrate the biblical story of the widow who filled many bottles with a single small bottle of oil. Everything was expertly choreographed.
Behind and above the stage and running across the front of the sanctuary was - rather oddly - sort of a woodland scene, with trees and stuff. Curious.
The left and right walls of the sanctuary were made of clear glass, and on one side I could see people seated outside, some under patio umbrellas, but looking in. I imagine there were speakers so these sun-lovers could hear the service while watching it through the windows. The congregation was mostly white, with Asians and some Blacks and Hispanics.
The sermon was biblical, skillful and cheerful. The pastor (not Rick Warren today) was dressed casually, as was most of the congregation. The podium was flanked on either side by two giant video screens, showing the pastor close up, or switching to a slide to illustrate one of his points. Bible verses were chosen from various translations (I actually prefer sticking to one good translation). To illustrate one of his points, he brought out a woman from the congregation who described how God had used the death of her daughter to help her minister to other people.
In the bulletin (a four-color and very professional publication) was a note saying that visitors shouldn't feel obliged to give, that giving is for those who call Saddleback their church home. Cool! I was actually a bit surprised when they passed the plate. It was during the closing moments of the service and there wasn't a word said about it. The plate was just there all of a sudden. No announcement that it was coming; no pleading to give; nothing. I found this understated approach quite refreshing, and judging from the grounds, it apparently works.
After the service we wandered through an outdoor book store in front of the sanctuary, looked over some of the outlying buildings, and headed out.
A few thoughts:
While adopting modern marketing, it seems Saddleback has taken care not to become crass or commercial, though I think that with a moment's inattention it could go over the edge into glitz and self-indulgence. I think it should be very careful to avoid that.
Also, I think other churches shouldn't emulate Saddleback blindly, but should pick and choose what to implement. For example, it won't be possible for most churches in a city to have a walking mall and a huge parking lot. Land is too expensive, and besides, there also need to be neighborhood churches, which this definitely is not.
Finally, I think that a lot of what I have described is of secondary or tertiary importance. No matter how well organized or attractive or artistically choreographed, I don't think Saddleback would work without good, accessible and biblically focused teaching. Take that away and I think it would stagnate and die just like any other church that loses its way.
Overall, despite the long drive, it was well worth the visit. Blessings on you, Saddleback!
Sunday, June 05, 2005
Giving Back to the Community
Every once in a while I'll hear someone say that companies should "give back to their communities."
In a strict sense, I think this is nonsense.
When someone talks about giving back, he or she is essentially saying the company took something from the community that needs to be repaid.
But if I have a business that sells, say, shoes, how am I taking from the community? I'm providing shoes to my customers and my customers are providing money to me. When the shoes sell, the transaction is complete and nobody owes anybody anything else. Everybody is benefitted.
However, in many cases, companies go beyond that. They pay various local fees and taxes, they provide employment, and their employees go out and spend the money they earn throughout the community, benefiting even more people. So I'd argue that companies are already giving to the community.
None of this is to argue that giving to the community is wrong. I think giving - by companies or individuals - is a kind thing to do, that it can make the community a more closely knit and pleasant place to live, and it's great PR. But to suggest as any sort of general rule that businesses are somehow soaking something out of the community that needs to be repaid does not impress me in the slightest.
In a strict sense, I think this is nonsense.
When someone talks about giving back, he or she is essentially saying the company took something from the community that needs to be repaid.
But if I have a business that sells, say, shoes, how am I taking from the community? I'm providing shoes to my customers and my customers are providing money to me. When the shoes sell, the transaction is complete and nobody owes anybody anything else. Everybody is benefitted.
However, in many cases, companies go beyond that. They pay various local fees and taxes, they provide employment, and their employees go out and spend the money they earn throughout the community, benefiting even more people. So I'd argue that companies are already giving to the community.
None of this is to argue that giving to the community is wrong. I think giving - by companies or individuals - is a kind thing to do, that it can make the community a more closely knit and pleasant place to live, and it's great PR. But to suggest as any sort of general rule that businesses are somehow soaking something out of the community that needs to be repaid does not impress me in the slightest.
Friday, June 03, 2005
CompUSA's Inconvenient Warranty
A while ago I bought a Sony laptop at CompUSA. I was talked into the extended warranty because they said they would fix my computer if anything goes wrong with it and I knew they did repairs on the premises. It'll make everything convenient, I was told. No worries.
Well, something did go wrong. The power plug is loose in the socket so it doesn't charge reliably. Trivial, right? Should take an hour to fix.
Not even! Alhough they say they do computer repairs on the premises, they wanted to send the laptop off to Sony, and, they said, that'll take about two weeks.
Convenient? Not within a hundred miles of being convenient. I'm supposed to be without my computer for two weeks because of a silly plug? You're packing my computer off to who knows where with all my data on it? I don't think so! If all the big retailers offer as rotten a service as CompUSA, then there's a competitive opening as big as a locomotive for a computer sales company that offers good local service.
Well, something did go wrong. The power plug is loose in the socket so it doesn't charge reliably. Trivial, right? Should take an hour to fix.
Not even! Alhough they say they do computer repairs on the premises, they wanted to send the laptop off to Sony, and, they said, that'll take about two weeks.
Convenient? Not within a hundred miles of being convenient. I'm supposed to be without my computer for two weeks because of a silly plug? You're packing my computer off to who knows where with all my data on it? I don't think so! If all the big retailers offer as rotten a service as CompUSA, then there's a competitive opening as big as a locomotive for a computer sales company that offers good local service.
Sunday, May 29, 2005
Topical Bible Study Idea
I recently had an idea that might be good for Bible study groups. I haven't tried it so I don't know how well it would work, but here it is:
To study a book in the Bible is fairly straightforward for a small group. Either a leader goes through it, or group members rotate in leading the study, but in either case the study proceeds sequentially, from beginning to end.
But to study a topic is harder to do because you need to know what the whole Bible or the whole New Testament or Old Testament says about the topic. I've seen some pretty poor topical teaching done as a result. Often such teaching misses important Bible passages about the topic.
So what if a study group divided the Bible into chapters, and each member of the group was responsible for learning what a set of chapters has to say about the topic. By dividing the task it becomes easier for everybody and you get to see what the Bible really says, rather than relying on secondary sources.
The New Testament has 260 chapters, so a 10-person Bible study group could study a New Testament topic in six sessions (260/10/6) if everybody is willing to cover a little more than four chapters between each session.
The whole Bible has 1,189 chapters, so the same study group could study a Bible topic in 12 sessions if everybody is willing to do about 10 chapters between each session.
I don't know how well this would work, but if anybody wants to give it a try I'd love to hear about it.
To study a book in the Bible is fairly straightforward for a small group. Either a leader goes through it, or group members rotate in leading the study, but in either case the study proceeds sequentially, from beginning to end.
But to study a topic is harder to do because you need to know what the whole Bible or the whole New Testament or Old Testament says about the topic. I've seen some pretty poor topical teaching done as a result. Often such teaching misses important Bible passages about the topic.
So what if a study group divided the Bible into chapters, and each member of the group was responsible for learning what a set of chapters has to say about the topic. By dividing the task it becomes easier for everybody and you get to see what the Bible really says, rather than relying on secondary sources.
The New Testament has 260 chapters, so a 10-person Bible study group could study a New Testament topic in six sessions (260/10/6) if everybody is willing to cover a little more than four chapters between each session.
The whole Bible has 1,189 chapters, so the same study group could study a Bible topic in 12 sessions if everybody is willing to do about 10 chapters between each session.
I don't know how well this would work, but if anybody wants to give it a try I'd love to hear about it.
Friday, May 20, 2005
Star-Wars: Excellent!
I just saw the latest Star Wars movie and it was amazing! I'm not a Star-Wars fanatic, but I thought it did a great job of tying the lose ends together and believably showing the turn of Anakin to the "dark side."
Which leads me to do a little philosophizing...
I wouldn't attend this movie looking for bulletproof philosophy. The notion that if "the Force" is "in balance" the universe would be at peace is just silly; as if having half the people be power-hungry murderers and the other half be peace-lovers would somehow provide a necessary balance to our world. Goofy. And then Obi Wan saying that "only the Sith speak of absolutes." Sigh. What is Obi Wan doing? Well, he's speaking an absolute. Obi, its not absolutes that get you into trouble, it's what absolutes you subscribe to.
But this whole Force thing is just a mandatory patina of Eastern philosophy over the very old fashioned - and very well told - tale of good vs. evil.
When you see it, notice the subtlety of evil. The confusion of Anakin. How difficult it is to see evil in ourselves. The appeal by the evil Chancellor to broad mindedness. How what is right and what is expedient get mixed. How it can sometimes be unclear what is the right thing to do, especially when there are conflicting accounts and interpretations and desires. How evil promises wonderful things but fails to keep its word.
Well worth the price of admission.
Which leads me to do a little philosophizing...
I wouldn't attend this movie looking for bulletproof philosophy. The notion that if "the Force" is "in balance" the universe would be at peace is just silly; as if having half the people be power-hungry murderers and the other half be peace-lovers would somehow provide a necessary balance to our world. Goofy. And then Obi Wan saying that "only the Sith speak of absolutes." Sigh. What is Obi Wan doing? Well, he's speaking an absolute. Obi, its not absolutes that get you into trouble, it's what absolutes you subscribe to.
But this whole Force thing is just a mandatory patina of Eastern philosophy over the very old fashioned - and very well told - tale of good vs. evil.
When you see it, notice the subtlety of evil. The confusion of Anakin. How difficult it is to see evil in ourselves. The appeal by the evil Chancellor to broad mindedness. How what is right and what is expedient get mixed. How it can sometimes be unclear what is the right thing to do, especially when there are conflicting accounts and interpretations and desires. How evil promises wonderful things but fails to keep its word.
Well worth the price of admission.
Saturday, May 07, 2005
Religious Politicking for Me, Not For Thee
I was both amused and annoyed at some of the junk that came out of a recent conference at the City University of New York to, ostensibly, expose "the real agenda of the religious far right."
First, this snip from the article referenced above:
Hello? Talk about calling other people evil and other points of view illegitimate! Here's what they said about conservative Christians at the same conference:
Okay, setting aside the gratuitous rudeness, the casual reader might - just might - be led to assume that these folks were condemning Machiavelli, Hitler, Stalin, Jim Jones and neo fascism, saying, in other words, that people who believe like them are evil and their viewpoints are illegitimate.
So, calling conservative Christians evil and their viewpoints illegitimate is okay, but if Edgar ran the country he wouldn't let conservative Christians do the same thing.
Edgar, you have totalitarian tendencies of precisely the same type you condemn.
Second point: The examples used at the conference of Christian intolerance were taken from the fringiest of fringe groups, who would like to re-institute the Old Testament law. You could live your entire Christian life without ever hearing of these groups or hearing their beliefs espoused. I've heard them discussed maybe three times in my fairly long Christian life.
But I'm afraid that some people may think that the difference between conservative Christianity and a belief that we should impose the Old Testament law is just a matter of degree, that the more biblically conservative you become, the closer you are to wanting to impose Old Testament law.
This is simply wrong. There are distinct theological differences here. Almost all Christian groups believe that while the law may give us glimpses into God's thinking, sort of as a shadow of a person gives an idea of what that person looks like, the law itself - except where it is reiterated in the New Testament - is over and done with and should never be brought back.
First, this snip from the article referenced above:
The Rev. Bob Edgar, a former Democratic congressman and general secretary of the National Council of Churches, strongly favors religious politicking but said in an interview that he draws the line when groups say "we are right and everyone else is evil" or claim that "another point of view is illegitimate."
Hello? Talk about calling other people evil and other points of view illegitimate! Here's what they said about conservative Christians at the same conference:
Although one speaker lamented Roman Catholicism's new "fundamentalist pope," the chief targets were evangelical Protestants -- whose tactics were compared with those of Machiavelli, Hitler, Stalin and Jim Jones of mass-suicide infamy.
Charles Strozier, director of a CUNY terrorism center, said the religious right, "emboldened in ways never seen before in American history," is promoting the "basically neo-Fascist schemes of the new Republicans."
Okay, setting aside the gratuitous rudeness, the casual reader might - just might - be led to assume that these folks were condemning Machiavelli, Hitler, Stalin, Jim Jones and neo fascism, saying, in other words, that people who believe like them are evil and their viewpoints are illegitimate.
So, calling conservative Christians evil and their viewpoints illegitimate is okay, but if Edgar ran the country he wouldn't let conservative Christians do the same thing.
Edgar, you have totalitarian tendencies of precisely the same type you condemn.
Second point: The examples used at the conference of Christian intolerance were taken from the fringiest of fringe groups, who would like to re-institute the Old Testament law. You could live your entire Christian life without ever hearing of these groups or hearing their beliefs espoused. I've heard them discussed maybe three times in my fairly long Christian life.
But I'm afraid that some people may think that the difference between conservative Christianity and a belief that we should impose the Old Testament law is just a matter of degree, that the more biblically conservative you become, the closer you are to wanting to impose Old Testament law.
This is simply wrong. There are distinct theological differences here. Almost all Christian groups believe that while the law may give us glimpses into God's thinking, sort of as a shadow of a person gives an idea of what that person looks like, the law itself - except where it is reiterated in the New Testament - is over and done with and should never be brought back.
Saturday, April 30, 2005
Nothing to Explain
I've been reading Bram Stoker's Dracula and happened upon a couple great quotes.
Dr. Abraham Van Helsing is about to explain about the supernatural. He says:
And, immediately following:
Oh, so true. So true.
Dr. Abraham Van Helsing is about to explain about the supernatural. He says:
Ah, it is the fault of our science that it wants to explain all; and if it explain not, then it says there is nothing to explain.
And, immediately following:
But yet we see around us every day the growth of new beliefs, which think themselves new; and which are yet but the old, which pretend to be young - like the fine ladies at the opera.
Oh, so true. So true.
Sunday, April 24, 2005
Martin Luther on Serving God
I've been reading some sermons by Martin Luther (The House Postils, Volume 3, Klug), and was struck by his commentary on Matthew 22:34-36 (love the Lord first, then love your neighbor as yourself).
Luther says that in his day, people who wanted to serve God would attempt it by methods of their own devising: pilgimages, entering monestaries, by fasting and by vigils and singing. No! He says, that's not it.
He writes:
"Serving is doing what God commands.... How could God make serving Him any plainer and explain it any more simply? In other words, if you want so serve Me, pay attention to me and I'll tell you all you need to know; just listen to what I said and do it; love me and your neighbor."
And later...
"Is it serving God when you crawl into a corner [as a monk] where you help and bring solace to no one? What need does our Lord God have of the service you perform in a corner? The one who wants to serve God should not crawl into an isolated cell but remain among people and serve them, where he can rest assured that thereby he is serving God."
"If, when we serve our neighbor, each one would consider it as being done to God, the whole world would be filled with God-pleasing service."
I'm not quite this down on taking a break from the company of others (after all, Jesus did it for forty days, and Paul spent three years in the desert), but in neither case was that break permanent (and I think this was Luther's point); Jesus and Paul ended their isolation and went out to bless other people.
Also, this commentary makes me wonder if there are ways that we, today, have unconsiously come up with for "serving God" that God never commanded or intended.
Luther says that in his day, people who wanted to serve God would attempt it by methods of their own devising: pilgimages, entering monestaries, by fasting and by vigils and singing. No! He says, that's not it.
He writes:
"Serving is doing what God commands.... How could God make serving Him any plainer and explain it any more simply? In other words, if you want so serve Me, pay attention to me and I'll tell you all you need to know; just listen to what I said and do it; love me and your neighbor."
And later...
"Is it serving God when you crawl into a corner [as a monk] where you help and bring solace to no one? What need does our Lord God have of the service you perform in a corner? The one who wants to serve God should not crawl into an isolated cell but remain among people and serve them, where he can rest assured that thereby he is serving God."
"If, when we serve our neighbor, each one would consider it as being done to God, the whole world would be filled with God-pleasing service."
I'm not quite this down on taking a break from the company of others (after all, Jesus did it for forty days, and Paul spent three years in the desert), but in neither case was that break permanent (and I think this was Luther's point); Jesus and Paul ended their isolation and went out to bless other people.
Also, this commentary makes me wonder if there are ways that we, today, have unconsiously come up with for "serving God" that God never commanded or intended.
Saturday, April 16, 2005
Scraps - A Few Random Thoughts
"Sign up to be e-mailed when new products from your favorite artists are released.
"Books by Mark Twain
"Books by MIGUEL DE CERVANTES "
Yes indeed. I'm looking forward to Mark Twain's next novel.
Yes: Um-hm
No: Uh-uh
I don't know: Mmm-mmm. (High on the first mmm, low on the second mmm)
What? - Hmm?
I'm thinking about it. - Hmmm...
Oh. Uh.
Tasty, sexy: MMMM-mm!
Well, how about that! Hmm!
Saturday, March 19, 2005
Shield Laws - Hmmm
I just saw an editorial by Steve Forbes in Forbes magazine about the need for a national shield law to protect reporters from having to reveal their sources.
I generally agree with Forbes, but I'm not at all sure about this.
As I recall from my journalism days, the argument for such laws, which many states have, is that people may decide not to talk to reporters if they think they won't remain anonymous.
To take an extreme example, if a reporter gets an interview with an organized crime boss, who details how his organization works, should the reporter be forced by the courts to reveal his source?
If the reporter is forced to reveal the crime boss's name, then it's reasonable to assume no criminal (except stupid ones) will ever talk to a reporter again. So what? Well, think of the potential value of the information the reporter was allowed to reveal. That in itself could be very valuable to police and governing bodies, and it wouldn't be wise to cut off some information by demanding all information.
And if someone should ask, "Well, who is a reporter? Does the state decide who a reporter is?" The answer would always be: "No! We absolutely don't want the state deciding who a reporter is. Anybody who publishes or broadcasts is a reporter."
Okay, that's the argument, and I always bought it. But that was then and this is now. Then, the very nature of printing and broadcasting limited the number of people to whom the shield laws applied, but now, with blogs, everybody can be a reporter - for free - and this presents difficulties.
Do shield laws now apply to everybody?
If they do, it seems all anyone would have to do to avoid testifying would be to start a blog and reveal some information about a criminal event, and that would immunize him or her from having to give any additional information.
The way to avoid that, of course, would be to have the government decide which people are reporters. Ouch! I'd rather have the first problem. Giving the government the right to decide who is a reporter gives the government the right throttle free speech.
So, loophole for criminals or the government's fat foot in the door of regulating the press. I'm not suggesting a solution here, but just pointing out that Congress has a tough problem.
I generally agree with Forbes, but I'm not at all sure about this.
As I recall from my journalism days, the argument for such laws, which many states have, is that people may decide not to talk to reporters if they think they won't remain anonymous.
To take an extreme example, if a reporter gets an interview with an organized crime boss, who details how his organization works, should the reporter be forced by the courts to reveal his source?
If the reporter is forced to reveal the crime boss's name, then it's reasonable to assume no criminal (except stupid ones) will ever talk to a reporter again. So what? Well, think of the potential value of the information the reporter was allowed to reveal. That in itself could be very valuable to police and governing bodies, and it wouldn't be wise to cut off some information by demanding all information.
And if someone should ask, "Well, who is a reporter? Does the state decide who a reporter is?" The answer would always be: "No! We absolutely don't want the state deciding who a reporter is. Anybody who publishes or broadcasts is a reporter."
Okay, that's the argument, and I always bought it. But that was then and this is now. Then, the very nature of printing and broadcasting limited the number of people to whom the shield laws applied, but now, with blogs, everybody can be a reporter - for free - and this presents difficulties.
Do shield laws now apply to everybody?
If they do, it seems all anyone would have to do to avoid testifying would be to start a blog and reveal some information about a criminal event, and that would immunize him or her from having to give any additional information.
The way to avoid that, of course, would be to have the government decide which people are reporters. Ouch! I'd rather have the first problem. Giving the government the right to decide who is a reporter gives the government the right throttle free speech.
So, loophole for criminals or the government's fat foot in the door of regulating the press. I'm not suggesting a solution here, but just pointing out that Congress has a tough problem.
Friday, March 18, 2005
Make: Magazine
Someone at our office who went to the TED conference came back with the premier issue of the new magazine, Make: (yeah, it has a colon at the end). I borrowed it and spent most of last night reading it.
This is going to be hot! Maybe not as hot as Wired, but very toasty.
It is about the size of National Geographic, on good, stiff paper, and is full of great stuff, from a kid-level motor project comprised of a battery, some saftey pins, a battery, and wire, to a computerized light stick that draws patterns in the dark air. The feature article is about building a simple device to take aerial photos from kites.
This has the feeling of what Popular Mechanix had way back in - I dunno - maybe the 40s and 50s. Actual projects for tech-heads. It also feels like Lego instructions. You know; so beautifully illustrated and logical that it is really hard to go wrong. It's one of those magazines you don't throw out but put on a bookshelf when you've read it.
So anyway, I loved it.
This was the premier issue, so I'm sure O'Reilly went all out in producing it, but if it's like this on a regular basis, I'm going to subscribe. Actually, I think I will now.
This is going to be hot! Maybe not as hot as Wired, but very toasty.
It is about the size of National Geographic, on good, stiff paper, and is full of great stuff, from a kid-level motor project comprised of a battery, some saftey pins, a battery, and wire, to a computerized light stick that draws patterns in the dark air. The feature article is about building a simple device to take aerial photos from kites.
This has the feeling of what Popular Mechanix had way back in - I dunno - maybe the 40s and 50s. Actual projects for tech-heads. It also feels like Lego instructions. You know; so beautifully illustrated and logical that it is really hard to go wrong. It's one of those magazines you don't throw out but put on a bookshelf when you've read it.
So anyway, I loved it.
This was the premier issue, so I'm sure O'Reilly went all out in producing it, but if it's like this on a regular basis, I'm going to subscribe. Actually, I think I will now.
Saturday, February 26, 2005
Christian Revival in France
Well! This is very encouraging. France, which I've always thought of as one of the most secular of European countries, is apparently expriencing something of a revival of interest in Christianity.
First, an excellent article in Christianity Today. It is well worth reading in its entirety. Here's a quote: "An evangelical congregation has been born here every 11 days in the last 35 years."
Then, this general story of spirituality in Europe ABC News Here's a snip: "That [ignoring Catholic teaching] would seem to continue a secularist trend visible in Europe for several decades. That trend is offset, however, by a growing awareness that European secularism is an aberration in a world where religion is largely on the rise."
And finally, an article in Slate. And a couple quotes: "While the flocks drawn to the famous basilica these days are mainly tourists ogling the stained-glass rosettes, this Pentecostal church draws more than 400 worshippers every Sunday to premises that couldn't be more different. Stark white on the inside, the church occupies the ground floor of a plain brick apartment block."
And, "Pentecostalism is growing in France, too, turning Protestantism, historically the embattled religion in a Catholic society, into a burgeoning faith."
First, an excellent article in Christianity Today. It is well worth reading in its entirety. Here's a quote: "An evangelical congregation has been born here every 11 days in the last 35 years."
Then, this general story of spirituality in Europe ABC News Here's a snip: "That [ignoring Catholic teaching] would seem to continue a secularist trend visible in Europe for several decades. That trend is offset, however, by a growing awareness that European secularism is an aberration in a world where religion is largely on the rise."
And finally, an article in Slate. And a couple quotes: "While the flocks drawn to the famous basilica these days are mainly tourists ogling the stained-glass rosettes, this Pentecostal church draws more than 400 worshippers every Sunday to premises that couldn't be more different. Stark white on the inside, the church occupies the ground floor of a plain brick apartment block."
And, "Pentecostalism is growing in France, too, turning Protestantism, historically the embattled religion in a Catholic society, into a burgeoning faith."
Friday, February 25, 2005
Rebuking David
I just finished reading about the life of David in the Bible, and I kind of wondered how David could commit such heinous crimes and get such a mild rebuke from God, but then have God absolutely blast him for something that seems totally innocent.
I will grant that David had a good side, but in a lot of ways David was a wretched man. He killed towns full of men, women and children and betrayed one of his most faithful followers, Uriah, having him murdered after committing adultery with his wife. David was a rotten father. He would have slaughtered a ranch full of people because of a rude reply had not Abigail made amends. And despite God's explicit warnings against idolatry, David let his wife Michal have idols hanging around the house. Even on his deathbed David busies himself telling his son to exact vengeance.
It seems that God would grab David by the throat and yell into his face that he was committing awful sins. While on one occasion (the Bathsheba affair) God did rebuke David, what about all the rest of his bloodshed?
Well, David does get rebuked, but it seems awfully mild and rather distant in time from when David committed his crimes. For instance, when David was running away from his son Absalom, Shimai curses him for shedding the blood of Saul's family, and for a while David thought maybe there was some merit to Shimai's criticism. Then, in 1 Chronicles 22:7-8, David tells his son Solomon that God wouldn't let him to build the temple because of all the blood he'd shed. But overall, I think it is fair to say that if you are looking for an in-your-face smackdown by God for the bloodshed David committed, it isn't there, and I find this odd in light of God's explicit command in the Ten Commandments not to murder.
So, on the one hand I notice the mildness of God's rebuke (if you can call it that) for some really heinous crimes, but on the other hand I see God's fierce anger for something that seems totally innocent - commissioning a census.
For some reason (some have suggested that it showed David wasn't trusting God) God was extremely angry about David taking a census. A census? What's wrong with a census? Jesus' parents took part in a census and there are countings of people all through the Old Testament. I'm not aware of any commands in the Bible against having a census. But for one reason or another, people - even David's ruthlessly practical army commander, Joab - felt David had committed a grievous sin by taking a census. And after he'd committed a census, even David himself felt guilty.
What's going on here?
Well, I think what is going on is actually something quite amazing. I think God was - temporarily - compromising.
Consider Jesus' reply to those who asked why the law of Moses permitted divorce. Jesus said Moses permitted divorce because men's hearts were hard. In other words, God temporarily lowered his standards to match hard human hearts.
I think also of the Apostle Paul's comment that if you believe something is a sin, for you it's a sin. And, presumably, the flip side is true: If you think something is okay, God won't punish you for doing it.
So when people in David's era believed some things were bad and other things were acceptable (regardless of whether they really were), God held them responsible according to their own standards.
Therefore, when David was being murderous but apparently didn't think he was doing anything very wrong, God's rebuke is mild; and when David and his contemporaries thought he was committing a horrible sin by conducting a census, God treats it as a horrible sin.
Anyway, what I'm seeing in all this is two things. First, this shows me how important it is to understand (and communicate to our children) what real right and wrong are. We don't want to wander off into David-like morality through ignorance. Second, I see that God truly does judge the heart. Regardless of how vile our actions, if they are done in ignorance of their true depravity, God does not rebuke us as vehemently as he rebukes actions that may be far less serious but are done in knowing defiance of God.
I will grant that David had a good side, but in a lot of ways David was a wretched man. He killed towns full of men, women and children and betrayed one of his most faithful followers, Uriah, having him murdered after committing adultery with his wife. David was a rotten father. He would have slaughtered a ranch full of people because of a rude reply had not Abigail made amends. And despite God's explicit warnings against idolatry, David let his wife Michal have idols hanging around the house. Even on his deathbed David busies himself telling his son to exact vengeance.
It seems that God would grab David by the throat and yell into his face that he was committing awful sins. While on one occasion (the Bathsheba affair) God did rebuke David, what about all the rest of his bloodshed?
Well, David does get rebuked, but it seems awfully mild and rather distant in time from when David committed his crimes. For instance, when David was running away from his son Absalom, Shimai curses him for shedding the blood of Saul's family, and for a while David thought maybe there was some merit to Shimai's criticism. Then, in 1 Chronicles 22:7-8, David tells his son Solomon that God wouldn't let him to build the temple because of all the blood he'd shed. But overall, I think it is fair to say that if you are looking for an in-your-face smackdown by God for the bloodshed David committed, it isn't there, and I find this odd in light of God's explicit command in the Ten Commandments not to murder.
So, on the one hand I notice the mildness of God's rebuke (if you can call it that) for some really heinous crimes, but on the other hand I see God's fierce anger for something that seems totally innocent - commissioning a census.
For some reason (some have suggested that it showed David wasn't trusting God) God was extremely angry about David taking a census. A census? What's wrong with a census? Jesus' parents took part in a census and there are countings of people all through the Old Testament. I'm not aware of any commands in the Bible against having a census. But for one reason or another, people - even David's ruthlessly practical army commander, Joab - felt David had committed a grievous sin by taking a census. And after he'd committed a census, even David himself felt guilty.
What's going on here?
Well, I think what is going on is actually something quite amazing. I think God was - temporarily - compromising.
Consider Jesus' reply to those who asked why the law of Moses permitted divorce. Jesus said Moses permitted divorce because men's hearts were hard. In other words, God temporarily lowered his standards to match hard human hearts.
I think also of the Apostle Paul's comment that if you believe something is a sin, for you it's a sin. And, presumably, the flip side is true: If you think something is okay, God won't punish you for doing it.
So when people in David's era believed some things were bad and other things were acceptable (regardless of whether they really were), God held them responsible according to their own standards.
Therefore, when David was being murderous but apparently didn't think he was doing anything very wrong, God's rebuke is mild; and when David and his contemporaries thought he was committing a horrible sin by conducting a census, God treats it as a horrible sin.
Anyway, what I'm seeing in all this is two things. First, this shows me how important it is to understand (and communicate to our children) what real right and wrong are. We don't want to wander off into David-like morality through ignorance. Second, I see that God truly does judge the heart. Regardless of how vile our actions, if they are done in ignorance of their true depravity, God does not rebuke us as vehemently as he rebukes actions that may be far less serious but are done in knowing defiance of God.
Sunday, February 13, 2005
Hugh Hewitt's Blog Book
I was just reading Hugh Hewitt's complaint about an LA Times review of his new book Blog and thought, "Come on, Hugh, you gotta be able to take a bit of legitimate criticism." So I read the review and, whew! What a stinker. The reviewer's main point seems to be that Hewitt is a conservative. My, my. What will they discover next? Okay, Hugh, if that's the worst they can find to say about your book, I guess I better break down and order a copy.
Monday, February 07, 2005
The Visitor
I am not a fiction writer, but every once in a decade or so I feel compelled to inflict something awful upon innocent civilians. Following is such a case. (Many thanks to Chris, my editor buddy, whose suggestions have hopefully made it tolerable.) Incongruously, I wrote this modern story in what I imagine to be a Victorian style, for no better reason than that I once enjoyed the Sherlock Holmes stories. - Brad
It was a cold, overcast November day, the day after Thanksgiving, and having the Friday off hung heavily upon me, for I am accustomed to working on weekdays. I had lit a fire which I was trying to enjoy, had listlessly flipped through the channels, but gave up and flicked off the television. The ticking of the clock only emphasized the monotony.
As I sat blankly staring out the window, I heard a knock upon the door. As I do not have an electric door chime, but a simple metal plate knocker, the loud noise startled and annoyed me, especially as my visitor knocked not just once, but persisted in knocking, rapidly and with great force.
It was, consequently, with little grace that I moved quickly toward the door to send this salesman upon his way, for I was expecting nobody, and those infrequent times when neighbors came to call, they had the kindness not to pummel my door.
To my surprise, it was not a salesman, but a small and distressed man in ministerial garb.
"I beg your pardon for bursting in like this," he said, "but I need your assistance immediately."
Somewhat taken aback, I asked the Rev. John McElsey - for that was the name by which he introduced himself - to come in and to have a seat beside the fire, an offer which he accepted gratefully, wiping his moist brow with his shirtsleeve, although the temperature, even in my sitting room, was hardly conducive to perspiration. Then, again he apologized for his intrusion.
"Well. What can I do for you?" I asked, at once impatient about his interuption of my monotony and curious about his visit.
"I am looking for a Mr. James Babcock." he said anxiously.
"I am he."
"I'm afraid I'm looking for someone quite older. Someone who served in World War Two.
"That would be Mr. James Babcock Senior," I said. "I'm his son."
"Oh dear. Can you direct me to where I might find your father?"
"I'm afraid I cannot. My father lived with me for several years, but he just died a week ago."
"Oh dear! Oh dear!" he said. Forgive me," he said, "but I wish to be quite certain I have the right James Babcock. Did your father receive a Purple Heart for an injury he suffered at the battle of Tarawa during the Second World War?"
I stared at the man, startled, for as far as I knew, my father had never mentioned the medal to anyone, for his experiences in the war were something he kept to himself, and, in fact, I had not known about the medal myself until just recently, when I discovered it and the accompanying documentation among his effects.
"How did you know that?" I demanded.
"Oh my God, my God, my God," he said, burying his face in his hands and pulling at his hair.
I stood up. "What the hell are you talking about?" I asked.
Finally he lifted his head.
"Please let me explain from the beginning," he said.
"Please do!"
"I am the minister of St. James Church, where I have served for about eight years. I am fairly well known about town, he said, with what I took to be a flutter of pride, but it is unlikely you also know that I am - or perhaps I should say, 'was' - rather forward looking in my social and theological views. I am afraid that perhaps I was more progressive in my outlook on what conservative members of the clergy would consider 'sin' and 'theology' than was - in light of what has happened - entirely wise."
"Look," I said, "I really don't see what your views about God have to do with me, and I'd rather not be all day about this."
"Yes. Yes. I quite understand your impatience, but I promise I will tie all this together as quickly as possible."
"Thank you."
"My theology, I'm afraid, has very much to do with this. To put it simply, I believed in God no more than I believed in the Easter Bunny. And I tell you this simply because I want you to believe I am not accustomed to ... uh ... making claims about matters of ... well ... an extraordinary nature."
"Go on," I said.
"A little more than a week ago," he continued, "I was in my study trying to read, but wholly without success, for earlier in the day I had been approached by a young man on the street who said to me, 'He who has the Son has the life. He who does not have the Son of God does not have the life.' I had, of course, encountered such people before, for my stands on various issues have not been well received by the more conservative Christian community, and I have at times encountered those who have expressed their feelings to me using Biblical allusions. But it was different this time. There was ... and I find this hard to express ... something kind yet painfully intense in this young man's demeanor.
"So, as I sat trying to read, my mind was distressed. I tried to thrust away his words, but like one of those rubber balls attached to a paddle by a string of elastic, it kept bouncing back at me. Did I have the son? Did I have the life? I gave up trying to ignore the thought and tried instead to look it in the face and acknowledge it so I could get on with my reading. But far from leaving me be, it grew upon me, and finally, in frustration and anger, and despite my disbelief, I cried aloud: 'God! Go away!'
"It was in this state of mind - which I fear will lead you to believe that I am in need of a psychiatrist - that the desk and lamp before me began to move away. The room with its windows and the sofa and the very book in my hands and my hands themselves began pulling back from me. All reality, and... I can say it now... God himself, seemed to be drawing away from me.
"I can barely express how frightened I was at the thought of being left alone, and I cried out, 'No, God, come back!' And as I spoke those words the room settled back into its normal appearance, and I was left in this frightened state with the uncomfortable thought that I'd been speaking to God though I didn't believe in God. I believed in Life and the Universe and the Web of Existence, but I didn't believe in someone you could talk to. But apparently I did believe in God... more than I was hitherto willing to admit - even to myself.
"I had by this time given up my attempt at reading, and was simply sitting, shaken, at my desk. Now, despite the glow of the lamp on my desk, which continued undiminished, the room grew black and three lights appeared directly above me, and from one of them a drop fell and splashed on my head. I wiped my hand against my face and pulled it away, and discovered to my horror that my hand was covered with blood.
"'You shall be my servant,' came a voice that was both a statement and a question. It was a beautiful but frightening voice, and quite distinct to me, though it seemed inaudible to my cat, which lay upon the sofa quite untroubled, though I must say that it was not until after recovering from the shock of this message that I noticed either the cat or anything else.
"'Yes, Lord,' I said, although it seemed as if I had no choice in the matter. But on the other hand, it seems I threw my heart into the decision with a wild joy. As I did so a delerium of ecstasy rolled over me. My simple study took on a radiance. Each color emitted a vivid hue, and the stars I could see from the window shone with a purity and clarity I'd never noticed before.
"And then, after an hour or several, I don't know which, it was over. I need hardly tell you that my outlook on life changed, not to mention my theology. But in any case, a few nights later a most frightening apparition manifested itself before me in my room. I don't mean to say it was repulsive or wicked, in fact I can only describe it as beautiful and pure, to such a degree that it was painful to my eyes.
"It, or rather, 'he,' said, 'I am Michael. You shall go to James Babcock and tell him: "Prepare your heart, for you shall not live out this week."' That my message might be believed, he told me of your father's Purple Heart.
"You will scarcely credit it, recalling what I had just been through, but I'm afraid I wasn't as obedient as I should have been. On various days I started out the door, at least three times, then my steps would falter, and I would return home, feeling torn. How could I tell your father, someone I had never met, this crazy and frightening prediction? And what if it wasn't true. And now I have delayed too long and your father is gone. Oh God! Oh God!" he wailed.
"This is preposterous!" I cried. "I barely know you and I certainly don't know your crazy god. You have indeed convinced me you need a psychiatrist. Kindly leave my house at once!"
And he did, full of apologies for intruding, but moaning his "Oh Gods!" as he walked down the front path.
I slammed the door, simmering with anger, returned to my seat and stared blankly at the now-dying fire.
How did that old fool know about my father's medal? Perhaps he got it from military records and then decided to play on my father's fears.
I thought back on my father's death. In his final days, drugged to take the edge off his pain, he babbled happily but incoherently about Jesus, and about a man he barely knew who told him to repent. He was out of his mind with the illness and drugs.
Ah! Why bother thinking about this? I told myself. That reverend was a fool! If God existed, why would he send such a message to my father, who already - if you could believe his ramblings - believed in him?
Satisfied, I got up and put another log on the fire, then settled back in my chair with a contented sigh.
Suddenly my face went cold and my heart shrank.
Who was it exactly that the angel told McElsey to warn? It was James Babcock Senior... wasn't it?
It was a cold, overcast November day, the day after Thanksgiving, and having the Friday off hung heavily upon me, for I am accustomed to working on weekdays. I had lit a fire which I was trying to enjoy, had listlessly flipped through the channels, but gave up and flicked off the television. The ticking of the clock only emphasized the monotony.
As I sat blankly staring out the window, I heard a knock upon the door. As I do not have an electric door chime, but a simple metal plate knocker, the loud noise startled and annoyed me, especially as my visitor knocked not just once, but persisted in knocking, rapidly and with great force.
It was, consequently, with little grace that I moved quickly toward the door to send this salesman upon his way, for I was expecting nobody, and those infrequent times when neighbors came to call, they had the kindness not to pummel my door.
To my surprise, it was not a salesman, but a small and distressed man in ministerial garb.
"I beg your pardon for bursting in like this," he said, "but I need your assistance immediately."
Somewhat taken aback, I asked the Rev. John McElsey - for that was the name by which he introduced himself - to come in and to have a seat beside the fire, an offer which he accepted gratefully, wiping his moist brow with his shirtsleeve, although the temperature, even in my sitting room, was hardly conducive to perspiration. Then, again he apologized for his intrusion.
"Well. What can I do for you?" I asked, at once impatient about his interuption of my monotony and curious about his visit.
"I am looking for a Mr. James Babcock." he said anxiously.
"I am he."
"I'm afraid I'm looking for someone quite older. Someone who served in World War Two.
"That would be Mr. James Babcock Senior," I said. "I'm his son."
"Oh dear. Can you direct me to where I might find your father?"
"I'm afraid I cannot. My father lived with me for several years, but he just died a week ago."
"Oh dear! Oh dear!" he said. Forgive me," he said, "but I wish to be quite certain I have the right James Babcock. Did your father receive a Purple Heart for an injury he suffered at the battle of Tarawa during the Second World War?"
I stared at the man, startled, for as far as I knew, my father had never mentioned the medal to anyone, for his experiences in the war were something he kept to himself, and, in fact, I had not known about the medal myself until just recently, when I discovered it and the accompanying documentation among his effects.
"How did you know that?" I demanded.
"Oh my God, my God, my God," he said, burying his face in his hands and pulling at his hair.
I stood up. "What the hell are you talking about?" I asked.
Finally he lifted his head.
"Please let me explain from the beginning," he said.
"Please do!"
"I am the minister of St. James Church, where I have served for about eight years. I am fairly well known about town, he said, with what I took to be a flutter of pride, but it is unlikely you also know that I am - or perhaps I should say, 'was' - rather forward looking in my social and theological views. I am afraid that perhaps I was more progressive in my outlook on what conservative members of the clergy would consider 'sin' and 'theology' than was - in light of what has happened - entirely wise."
"Look," I said, "I really don't see what your views about God have to do with me, and I'd rather not be all day about this."
"Yes. Yes. I quite understand your impatience, but I promise I will tie all this together as quickly as possible."
"Thank you."
"My theology, I'm afraid, has very much to do with this. To put it simply, I believed in God no more than I believed in the Easter Bunny. And I tell you this simply because I want you to believe I am not accustomed to ... uh ... making claims about matters of ... well ... an extraordinary nature."
"Go on," I said.
"A little more than a week ago," he continued, "I was in my study trying to read, but wholly without success, for earlier in the day I had been approached by a young man on the street who said to me, 'He who has the Son has the life. He who does not have the Son of God does not have the life.' I had, of course, encountered such people before, for my stands on various issues have not been well received by the more conservative Christian community, and I have at times encountered those who have expressed their feelings to me using Biblical allusions. But it was different this time. There was ... and I find this hard to express ... something kind yet painfully intense in this young man's demeanor.
"So, as I sat trying to read, my mind was distressed. I tried to thrust away his words, but like one of those rubber balls attached to a paddle by a string of elastic, it kept bouncing back at me. Did I have the son? Did I have the life? I gave up trying to ignore the thought and tried instead to look it in the face and acknowledge it so I could get on with my reading. But far from leaving me be, it grew upon me, and finally, in frustration and anger, and despite my disbelief, I cried aloud: 'God! Go away!'
"It was in this state of mind - which I fear will lead you to believe that I am in need of a psychiatrist - that the desk and lamp before me began to move away. The room with its windows and the sofa and the very book in my hands and my hands themselves began pulling back from me. All reality, and... I can say it now... God himself, seemed to be drawing away from me.
"I can barely express how frightened I was at the thought of being left alone, and I cried out, 'No, God, come back!' And as I spoke those words the room settled back into its normal appearance, and I was left in this frightened state with the uncomfortable thought that I'd been speaking to God though I didn't believe in God. I believed in Life and the Universe and the Web of Existence, but I didn't believe in someone you could talk to. But apparently I did believe in God... more than I was hitherto willing to admit - even to myself.
"I had by this time given up my attempt at reading, and was simply sitting, shaken, at my desk. Now, despite the glow of the lamp on my desk, which continued undiminished, the room grew black and three lights appeared directly above me, and from one of them a drop fell and splashed on my head. I wiped my hand against my face and pulled it away, and discovered to my horror that my hand was covered with blood.
"'You shall be my servant,' came a voice that was both a statement and a question. It was a beautiful but frightening voice, and quite distinct to me, though it seemed inaudible to my cat, which lay upon the sofa quite untroubled, though I must say that it was not until after recovering from the shock of this message that I noticed either the cat or anything else.
"'Yes, Lord,' I said, although it seemed as if I had no choice in the matter. But on the other hand, it seems I threw my heart into the decision with a wild joy. As I did so a delerium of ecstasy rolled over me. My simple study took on a radiance. Each color emitted a vivid hue, and the stars I could see from the window shone with a purity and clarity I'd never noticed before.
"And then, after an hour or several, I don't know which, it was over. I need hardly tell you that my outlook on life changed, not to mention my theology. But in any case, a few nights later a most frightening apparition manifested itself before me in my room. I don't mean to say it was repulsive or wicked, in fact I can only describe it as beautiful and pure, to such a degree that it was painful to my eyes.
"It, or rather, 'he,' said, 'I am Michael. You shall go to James Babcock and tell him: "Prepare your heart, for you shall not live out this week."' That my message might be believed, he told me of your father's Purple Heart.
"You will scarcely credit it, recalling what I had just been through, but I'm afraid I wasn't as obedient as I should have been. On various days I started out the door, at least three times, then my steps would falter, and I would return home, feeling torn. How could I tell your father, someone I had never met, this crazy and frightening prediction? And what if it wasn't true. And now I have delayed too long and your father is gone. Oh God! Oh God!" he wailed.
"This is preposterous!" I cried. "I barely know you and I certainly don't know your crazy god. You have indeed convinced me you need a psychiatrist. Kindly leave my house at once!"
And he did, full of apologies for intruding, but moaning his "Oh Gods!" as he walked down the front path.
I slammed the door, simmering with anger, returned to my seat and stared blankly at the now-dying fire.
How did that old fool know about my father's medal? Perhaps he got it from military records and then decided to play on my father's fears.
I thought back on my father's death. In his final days, drugged to take the edge off his pain, he babbled happily but incoherently about Jesus, and about a man he barely knew who told him to repent. He was out of his mind with the illness and drugs.
Ah! Why bother thinking about this? I told myself. That reverend was a fool! If God existed, why would he send such a message to my father, who already - if you could believe his ramblings - believed in him?
Satisfied, I got up and put another log on the fire, then settled back in my chair with a contented sigh.
Suddenly my face went cold and my heart shrank.
Who was it exactly that the angel told McElsey to warn? It was James Babcock Senior... wasn't it?
Sunday, January 30, 2005
Christians at Work in North Korea
A fascinating article in The London Times about the slow implosion of North Korea's cruel regime, and the part Christians are playing in it. I hope we're all ready to help when the collapse comes. Here are some clips from the story, but read the whole thing.
"Word has spread like wildfire [in North Korea] of the Christian underground that helps fugitives to reach South Korea. People who lived in silent fear now dare to speak about escape."
And...
"North Koreans confirmed that they knew that escapers to China should look for buildings displaying a Christian cross and should ask among Korean speakers for people who knew the word of Jesus."
And...
"Here in the north of the country, faith, crime and sheer cold are eroding the regime's grip at a speed that may surprise the CIA's analysts."
And...
"The secret police cannot staunch the word of the gospel. Two of our party turned out to be Christian businessmen who had come from China carrying wads of cash. Korean-language Bibles have been smuggled in by the hundreds."
"Word has spread like wildfire [in North Korea] of the Christian underground that helps fugitives to reach South Korea. People who lived in silent fear now dare to speak about escape."
And...
"North Koreans confirmed that they knew that escapers to China should look for buildings displaying a Christian cross and should ask among Korean speakers for people who knew the word of Jesus."
And...
"Here in the north of the country, faith, crime and sheer cold are eroding the regime's grip at a speed that may surprise the CIA's analysts."
And...
"The secret police cannot staunch the word of the gospel. Two of our party turned out to be Christian businessmen who had come from China carrying wads of cash. Korean-language Bibles have been smuggled in by the hundreds."
Saturday, January 08, 2005
Missionaries to the Future
For a long time I thought that if there was one commandment that we had obeyed, it was the Genesis command to populate the world. I thought we had, in fact, overdone it. Mabye I was wrong or maybe I was right, but either way, that time is long past.
The Western world, which means that part of the world containing most of the Christians, is not only no longer populating the world, it is depopulating it. My understanding is that in many places, our birth rate is below replacement levels. If it continues in this way, Christianity will increasingly be a fading factor on the world stage, while Islam, whose adherents are having children, will grow increasingly strong.
With that in mind, I think we need to think differently of children. Not only are they a personal blessing, but they are also a blessing to the world. They are, if I can coin a phrase, missionaries to the future.
Is what we believe important only for us? Don't future generations need to hear the gospel? Since we won't be here to share it, who will share it if not our children?
The Western world, which means that part of the world containing most of the Christians, is not only no longer populating the world, it is depopulating it. My understanding is that in many places, our birth rate is below replacement levels. If it continues in this way, Christianity will increasingly be a fading factor on the world stage, while Islam, whose adherents are having children, will grow increasingly strong.
With that in mind, I think we need to think differently of children. Not only are they a personal blessing, but they are also a blessing to the world. They are, if I can coin a phrase, missionaries to the future.
Is what we believe important only for us? Don't future generations need to hear the gospel? Since we won't be here to share it, who will share it if not our children?
Friday, December 31, 2004
God and the Tsunami
I got a letter today from someone said he knows faith is not a rational emotion, but he is deeply bothered by why God appears to be so quiet in the face of disasters (I assumed he was thinking primarily of the tsunami in the Indian Ocean), especially when he was so active in the Old Testament. I thought I'd post my response, for what it's worth.
Hi,
I actually think Christianity is rational, although it may not appear to be rational at times, just as some of the discoveries of science appear to be irrational, but they are only irrational from our - or, at least, my - limited perspective. For example, if I understand correctly, scientists believe that electrons circling in atoms can jump between lower and higher orbits without passing through the intervening space. To me that seems pretty irrational, but if it is indeed the case, I believe there is a rational explanation for it even if I don't know it, and even if I can't understand it.
Your concern seems to be that God is silent when it appears he should be active and vocal. You mention that in the Old Testament he was active.
First, about the Old Testament. Remember that the Old Testament miracles were spread out over thousands of years, and how many were there? Maybe a couple hundred recorded? And they were all in a very limited area - in and around Israel. So the likelihood of your seeing a miracle, even in Old Testament times, would be very unlikely.
But that still leaves the question of why God so often appears to be silent or inactive. Why doesn't he step in and save people, like the 100,000-plus who have lost their lives from the tsunami? Or the little girl who steps in front of a truck and is killed, or the child dying of cancer?
It seems it would be wonderful if everyone lived to a ripe old age. But suppose everybody did live to a ripe old age? Then wouldn't we be asking these questions...
- Why does God allow people to forget even the people they most love?
- Why does God let people's bodies become so frail?
- Why does God let us go blind?
- Why does God allow people to die so suddenly, without even a chance to say goodbye?
- Why does God allow people to die so slowly, suffering for months or years?
- Why does God allow some people live to 105 while others only get to live to 92?
- What kind of a joke is God playing, making people only to let them die?
In essence, I think what we object to is that life is imperfect, that it is unfair because some people are happier or live longer than others, and that it all ends in death. We want paradise back.
But this, I'm afraid, is the curse we live with. But also, perhaps God is speaking in this disaster. Maybe God wants to impress on our minds that this life is tenuous, that there are no guarantees here about health and long life, that we should not put our full hope in this world, but put a good portion of our focus on the next life, and maybe he wants it clear that we can't wait until 15-minutes before our God-guaranteed lifespan is about to end before turning to Jesus.
I don't know. But not only does the Bible make no firm guarantees of long life and good health, but there are places where it promises disaster. Sections of the Old Testament and the Book of Revelation are examples.
Most of this is speculation, and I'm sure it doesn't answer your question fully. Like you, I want to understand as much as I can, but ultimately - Christian or non-Christian - you have to accept that there are questions for which you will not find a full answer. But at least, as a Christian, you can rest assured that a just and good answer really exists, because you believe in a just and good and all-knowing God.
God bless you
Hi,
I actually think Christianity is rational, although it may not appear to be rational at times, just as some of the discoveries of science appear to be irrational, but they are only irrational from our - or, at least, my - limited perspective. For example, if I understand correctly, scientists believe that electrons circling in atoms can jump between lower and higher orbits without passing through the intervening space. To me that seems pretty irrational, but if it is indeed the case, I believe there is a rational explanation for it even if I don't know it, and even if I can't understand it.
Your concern seems to be that God is silent when it appears he should be active and vocal. You mention that in the Old Testament he was active.
First, about the Old Testament. Remember that the Old Testament miracles were spread out over thousands of years, and how many were there? Maybe a couple hundred recorded? And they were all in a very limited area - in and around Israel. So the likelihood of your seeing a miracle, even in Old Testament times, would be very unlikely.
But that still leaves the question of why God so often appears to be silent or inactive. Why doesn't he step in and save people, like the 100,000-plus who have lost their lives from the tsunami? Or the little girl who steps in front of a truck and is killed, or the child dying of cancer?
It seems it would be wonderful if everyone lived to a ripe old age. But suppose everybody did live to a ripe old age? Then wouldn't we be asking these questions...
- Why does God allow people to forget even the people they most love?
- Why does God let people's bodies become so frail?
- Why does God let us go blind?
- Why does God allow people to die so suddenly, without even a chance to say goodbye?
- Why does God allow people to die so slowly, suffering for months or years?
- Why does God allow some people live to 105 while others only get to live to 92?
- What kind of a joke is God playing, making people only to let them die?
In essence, I think what we object to is that life is imperfect, that it is unfair because some people are happier or live longer than others, and that it all ends in death. We want paradise back.
But this, I'm afraid, is the curse we live with. But also, perhaps God is speaking in this disaster. Maybe God wants to impress on our minds that this life is tenuous, that there are no guarantees here about health and long life, that we should not put our full hope in this world, but put a good portion of our focus on the next life, and maybe he wants it clear that we can't wait until 15-minutes before our God-guaranteed lifespan is about to end before turning to Jesus.
I don't know. But not only does the Bible make no firm guarantees of long life and good health, but there are places where it promises disaster. Sections of the Old Testament and the Book of Revelation are examples.
Most of this is speculation, and I'm sure it doesn't answer your question fully. Like you, I want to understand as much as I can, but ultimately - Christian or non-Christian - you have to accept that there are questions for which you will not find a full answer. But at least, as a Christian, you can rest assured that a just and good answer really exists, because you believe in a just and good and all-knowing God.
God bless you
Sunday, December 26, 2004
Crucify the Christians
Two days before Christmas I was a bit bored. So much so that I decided to look at chat rooms, which I had never really bothered with before. I went to a Christian chat room on Yahoo at about the time a group of what I will politely call "non-Christians" decided to barge in.
I watched briefly as "crucify_the_christians" and "angrysatan666" and others cursed and insulted Christians, typed obscenities in clever ways to avoid the filters, described what they said were Jesus' sexual preferences, and so forth.
Then "crucify" said Christians are ignorant.
"What makes you think that?" I asked.
He said we are ignorant because God doesn't make sense and the Bible is just a book written by humans.
"You ever read the Bible, Cruz?" I asked.
Sure he had, he said. His parents made him read it, and he really liked the nasty parts in the Old Testament about the God of anger and Hell.
Not recalling anything about Hell in the Old Testament, I asked him where he had seen this.
He didn't know.
"Can you name five books of the Bible, Cruz?"
He couldn't name one.
"You don't know the Bible at all, do you Cruz?"
That, he said, wasn't his point. His point was that Christians need to question the Bible.
Hmmm. So, he had barely a clue about the Bible's contents, but was sure it was wrong and should be questioned.
"I'm lost, Cruz."
"Good," he replied, "That's where you should be. The point," he said, "is that there is no point."
Ah. So I should be at the point where there are pointless points.
We also talked about the existance of God. I asked if he knew any of the arguments for the existance of God.
"How would you reply to the cosmological argument for God, Cruz?"
He didn't know what it was until I explained it.
But that was okay by him. All he wanted, he said, was to make Christians realize that there is no answer, that "the answer is a question."
I tried to point out that he had been making statements of what he believed to be fact, so he was kind of like Christians (and everybody else) in that he believed specific things to be true.
No, he said, that was "just a manner of speaking."
O-kay. So now we have points that don't have points and questions that are answers and facts that are just a manner of speaking. All that and he's sure God doesn't exist and the Bible is wrong although he hadn't a clue about the arguments for and against God and had nothing but the vaguest notions of what is in the Bible.
I offered to pray for him, and he asked me not to. It sounded as if the idea made him a bit nervous.
"Don't waste your breath, it won't help."
"Sorry, Cruz. You hang around Christians long enough and somebody's bound to pray for you."
So I did.
What was interesting about this slam-bang exchange was that I began to like Cruz, and he's been on my mind and I've prayed for him several times since. While I wasn't going to put up with his junior philosopher nonsense, I felt I kind of got to know a lost kid, probably in high school, who would likely be very polite and friendly in person.
Hey Cruz! I'm still praying for you, buddy.
I watched briefly as "crucify_the_christians" and "angrysatan666" and others cursed and insulted Christians, typed obscenities in clever ways to avoid the filters, described what they said were Jesus' sexual preferences, and so forth.
Then "crucify" said Christians are ignorant.
"What makes you think that?" I asked.
He said we are ignorant because God doesn't make sense and the Bible is just a book written by humans.
"You ever read the Bible, Cruz?" I asked.
Sure he had, he said. His parents made him read it, and he really liked the nasty parts in the Old Testament about the God of anger and Hell.
Not recalling anything about Hell in the Old Testament, I asked him where he had seen this.
He didn't know.
"Can you name five books of the Bible, Cruz?"
He couldn't name one.
"You don't know the Bible at all, do you Cruz?"
That, he said, wasn't his point. His point was that Christians need to question the Bible.
Hmmm. So, he had barely a clue about the Bible's contents, but was sure it was wrong and should be questioned.
"I'm lost, Cruz."
"Good," he replied, "That's where you should be. The point," he said, "is that there is no point."
Ah. So I should be at the point where there are pointless points.
We also talked about the existance of God. I asked if he knew any of the arguments for the existance of God.
"How would you reply to the cosmological argument for God, Cruz?"
He didn't know what it was until I explained it.
But that was okay by him. All he wanted, he said, was to make Christians realize that there is no answer, that "the answer is a question."
I tried to point out that he had been making statements of what he believed to be fact, so he was kind of like Christians (and everybody else) in that he believed specific things to be true.
No, he said, that was "just a manner of speaking."
O-kay. So now we have points that don't have points and questions that are answers and facts that are just a manner of speaking. All that and he's sure God doesn't exist and the Bible is wrong although he hadn't a clue about the arguments for and against God and had nothing but the vaguest notions of what is in the Bible.
I offered to pray for him, and he asked me not to. It sounded as if the idea made him a bit nervous.
"Don't waste your breath, it won't help."
"Sorry, Cruz. You hang around Christians long enough and somebody's bound to pray for you."
So I did.
What was interesting about this slam-bang exchange was that I began to like Cruz, and he's been on my mind and I've prayed for him several times since. While I wasn't going to put up with his junior philosopher nonsense, I felt I kind of got to know a lost kid, probably in high school, who would likely be very polite and friendly in person.
Hey Cruz! I'm still praying for you, buddy.
Friday, December 24, 2004
Merry Christmas!
I just got back from a Christmas Eve service. Singing the beautiful old hymns, a simple message of Christ's advent, everybody with candles lit. It was packed and it was wonderful!
I'll bet the two best attended church services during the year are Christmas and Easter, partly because they're special days, but I'll bet part of it is that it is pretty hard to focus on silly trivia on those days. Unless your church is totally dead, the focus is Christ both days; Christ's birth on Christmas, and Christ's resurrection on Easter.
Maybe churches would be fuller on other days if they focused on Christ then too!
Merry Christmas!
I'll bet the two best attended church services during the year are Christmas and Easter, partly because they're special days, but I'll bet part of it is that it is pretty hard to focus on silly trivia on those days. Unless your church is totally dead, the focus is Christ both days; Christ's birth on Christmas, and Christ's resurrection on Easter.
Maybe churches would be fuller on other days if they focused on Christ then too!
Merry Christmas!
Friday, December 10, 2004
The Churching of America
I just read an excellent and encouraging book, called The Churching of America: 1776-1990, by Roger Finke and Rodney Stark.
Basically, it's an historical examination of the church in America, and the book's messages are many. Perhaps the most encouraging message is that the church has actually been growing steadily throughout American history. And perhaps the most useful observation, or warning, is that the more worldly a denonimation becomes, the more dead it becomes. While that's hardly a surprise, it's good to see solid scholarship backing it up.
By "worldly" (my word, not theirs; they use sociological terms) I don't think the authors mean that it's a problem for the church to use modern techniques for communicating with people, but simply that a church will begin to wither if it begins to get fuzzy about its doctrine and about holy living.
The authors suggest that this toning down of the church's stands and soft pedaling of its harder doctrines is initially encouraged by wealthy church members and - interestingly - by the pastoral leadership of the church. Why? Because they both want to fit in with society. Then, one compromise leads to another and pretty soon you have a dying church.
I think this raises an interesting question: How much should the church try to identify with the world in order to win it? I suspect a lot of dying churches initially said they were trying to be more "relevant" to the world when they actually wanted to fit in better. I think a good test is this: Are we compromising our beliefs to fit in? If not, I think we're okay. If we are compromising, I think we're on a downward slope.
A few other interesting points:
The authors say that the downward trend for churches begins in the seminaries. For example, they note that the Methodist Church, after truly explosive growth, began to urge seminarians to study the latest liberal German theology. These students were then assigned to churches and spread their views there. Because the Methodist Church is hierarchal, the individual churches could not reject these pastors, so unhappy parishioners split off from - or were kicked out of - the church, some forming the basis of the Holiness Movement.
The Southern Baptists, on the other hand, do not have a hierarchal organization. Their seminaries went liberal too (and amazingly, had problems virtually from the start!), but unhappy Baptists could not be kicked out of their denomination because the denomination does not have that authority. So conservatives could stay and fight, and they have been fighting, and lately, winning. Also, Baptist churches can select anybody they please as pastor and kick them out if they please. For that reason the Southern Baptists have had more success in maintaining their faith, though it has been a continuing battle for their seminaries.
I take it from this that democracy is good at preserving orthodoxy, and unless a church strongly believes that hierarchy is God-ordained, it should lean toward democracy.
Another interesting observation from the book is that the truly explosive growth of the Baptists and Methodists came when they had unpaid or underpaid amateur preachers. Professional clergy, the authors argue, want to be treated as professionals, get good pay and be respected in the community. This, they argue, kind of nudges the church in a worldly direction. I have often thought that church jobs should pay less than the prevailing wage, for just this reason, so churches don't attract the uncommitted.
But what is truly amazing and exciting about this book is that it explodes the myth that church membership has been declining through the years in America. To the contrary, the authors say it has been on an almost stairstep upward path since colonial days, from 17 percent of the population being church members in 1776 to 60 percent being members in 1980.
The reason people think it has been declining, or has gone in waves, they say, is because they only look at the path of particular denominations, which do indeed rise and fall. But, they note, there are constant renewals that create new churches and revitalize faith. That is the most encouraging message of this book.
This is a very rich book, with a lot of insights, and I'm just touching the highlights here and not even doing them justice. I'm not totally convinced of everything the authors claim, and I am not even sure the authors are Christians, but their book is fascinating and well worth pondering. I highly recommend it.
Basically, it's an historical examination of the church in America, and the book's messages are many. Perhaps the most encouraging message is that the church has actually been growing steadily throughout American history. And perhaps the most useful observation, or warning, is that the more worldly a denonimation becomes, the more dead it becomes. While that's hardly a surprise, it's good to see solid scholarship backing it up.
By "worldly" (my word, not theirs; they use sociological terms) I don't think the authors mean that it's a problem for the church to use modern techniques for communicating with people, but simply that a church will begin to wither if it begins to get fuzzy about its doctrine and about holy living.
The authors suggest that this toning down of the church's stands and soft pedaling of its harder doctrines is initially encouraged by wealthy church members and - interestingly - by the pastoral leadership of the church. Why? Because they both want to fit in with society. Then, one compromise leads to another and pretty soon you have a dying church.
I think this raises an interesting question: How much should the church try to identify with the world in order to win it? I suspect a lot of dying churches initially said they were trying to be more "relevant" to the world when they actually wanted to fit in better. I think a good test is this: Are we compromising our beliefs to fit in? If not, I think we're okay. If we are compromising, I think we're on a downward slope.
A few other interesting points:
The authors say that the downward trend for churches begins in the seminaries. For example, they note that the Methodist Church, after truly explosive growth, began to urge seminarians to study the latest liberal German theology. These students were then assigned to churches and spread their views there. Because the Methodist Church is hierarchal, the individual churches could not reject these pastors, so unhappy parishioners split off from - or were kicked out of - the church, some forming the basis of the Holiness Movement.
The Southern Baptists, on the other hand, do not have a hierarchal organization. Their seminaries went liberal too (and amazingly, had problems virtually from the start!), but unhappy Baptists could not be kicked out of their denomination because the denomination does not have that authority. So conservatives could stay and fight, and they have been fighting, and lately, winning. Also, Baptist churches can select anybody they please as pastor and kick them out if they please. For that reason the Southern Baptists have had more success in maintaining their faith, though it has been a continuing battle for their seminaries.
I take it from this that democracy is good at preserving orthodoxy, and unless a church strongly believes that hierarchy is God-ordained, it should lean toward democracy.
Another interesting observation from the book is that the truly explosive growth of the Baptists and Methodists came when they had unpaid or underpaid amateur preachers. Professional clergy, the authors argue, want to be treated as professionals, get good pay and be respected in the community. This, they argue, kind of nudges the church in a worldly direction. I have often thought that church jobs should pay less than the prevailing wage, for just this reason, so churches don't attract the uncommitted.
But what is truly amazing and exciting about this book is that it explodes the myth that church membership has been declining through the years in America. To the contrary, the authors say it has been on an almost stairstep upward path since colonial days, from 17 percent of the population being church members in 1776 to 60 percent being members in 1980.
The reason people think it has been declining, or has gone in waves, they say, is because they only look at the path of particular denominations, which do indeed rise and fall. But, they note, there are constant renewals that create new churches and revitalize faith. That is the most encouraging message of this book.
This is a very rich book, with a lot of insights, and I'm just touching the highlights here and not even doing them justice. I'm not totally convinced of everything the authors claim, and I am not even sure the authors are Christians, but their book is fascinating and well worth pondering. I highly recommend it.
Friday, November 26, 2004
Is It Just Me?
When I first became a Christian it seemed there was more emphasis in church on... well... God.
We still sing some great songs and hymns that glorify God, but it seems the emphasis has changed a bit; now it seems to be more about people - either what God will do to benefit us or that we ought to be doing something.
I have no objection to either of those topics; Jesus certainly spoke about benefits and responsibilities, and you can find plenty about both these topics throughout the Bible.
But it seems it should all flow from God. My faith is not a cost/benefit analysis and it is not a list of rules (or "principles" or "guidelines" or "steps" or whatever we want to call them), any more than my relationship with my wife is either of these things.
God is the one I love. I long to worship him. I long to connect with him. And when, in church, the benefits or responsibilities of the Christian life are shifted from being the outcome of my love for God to being the centerpiece of the Christian life, I'm disappointed, and I leave feeling I haven't connected with God.
We still sing some great songs and hymns that glorify God, but it seems the emphasis has changed a bit; now it seems to be more about people - either what God will do to benefit us or that we ought to be doing something.
I have no objection to either of those topics; Jesus certainly spoke about benefits and responsibilities, and you can find plenty about both these topics throughout the Bible.
But it seems it should all flow from God. My faith is not a cost/benefit analysis and it is not a list of rules (or "principles" or "guidelines" or "steps" or whatever we want to call them), any more than my relationship with my wife is either of these things.
God is the one I love. I long to worship him. I long to connect with him. And when, in church, the benefits or responsibilities of the Christian life are shifted from being the outcome of my love for God to being the centerpiece of the Christian life, I'm disappointed, and I leave feeling I haven't connected with God.
Monday, November 22, 2004
Under Isaiah
Like the books of most of the Old Testament prophets, Isaiah strikes me as disjointed, and I think the reason is that it is not a single narrative, but apparently a series of sermons preached at different times. Nevertheless, there seems to be a general theme. Many of these sermons deal with the fate of nations, of Israel and its neighbors. Isaiah speaks of their sins and of God's judgement upon them, and then of his mercy and forgiveness and restoration for a repentant Israel.
But...
In the midst of these themes, you occasionally notice something a bit curious; something in the text that strikes a slightly discordant note - a promise, perhaps, that appears too lavish for the topic at hand. Odd... as if you were on a boat and noticed a curious swelling in the sea. But then the swelling subsides and the sea returns to normal.
And then, at other points, a beautiful transcendent passage flashes out of the narrative - sometimes for just a second - stunningly unrelated to the apparent topic, and then is gone again, like a jumping fish diving back into the ocean.
As you read, it becomes increasingly clear that Isaiah is about something even greater than the rise and fall of nations. There is something mysterious going on beneath the surface that occasionally breaks into the open. Sometimes you see messianic hints which seem, well... doubtful, blended, as they are, with other topics to the point where they are merely suggestive (Was it just a peculiar current? the reader may ask, or was there really something there under the water?). But at other times the messianic promises simply leap out of the water, flashing clearly in the sunlight, often at unexpected moments in the text.
And toward the end of the book the New simply breaks out with wild abandon - with long messianic passages, such as Isaiah 53, wonderful promises, and descriptions of a new world. The fate of nations is almost forgotten in its glory. It reminds me of the Bible as a whole - the hints and explicit prophesies of the Messiah in the Old Testament, followed by the glorious reality of the Messiah in the New Testament.
But...
In the midst of these themes, you occasionally notice something a bit curious; something in the text that strikes a slightly discordant note - a promise, perhaps, that appears too lavish for the topic at hand. Odd... as if you were on a boat and noticed a curious swelling in the sea. But then the swelling subsides and the sea returns to normal.
And then, at other points, a beautiful transcendent passage flashes out of the narrative - sometimes for just a second - stunningly unrelated to the apparent topic, and then is gone again, like a jumping fish diving back into the ocean.
As you read, it becomes increasingly clear that Isaiah is about something even greater than the rise and fall of nations. There is something mysterious going on beneath the surface that occasionally breaks into the open. Sometimes you see messianic hints which seem, well... doubtful, blended, as they are, with other topics to the point where they are merely suggestive (Was it just a peculiar current? the reader may ask, or was there really something there under the water?). But at other times the messianic promises simply leap out of the water, flashing clearly in the sunlight, often at unexpected moments in the text.
And toward the end of the book the New simply breaks out with wild abandon - with long messianic passages, such as Isaiah 53, wonderful promises, and descriptions of a new world. The fate of nations is almost forgotten in its glory. It reminds me of the Bible as a whole - the hints and explicit prophesies of the Messiah in the Old Testament, followed by the glorious reality of the Messiah in the New Testament.
Sunday, November 21, 2004
What Happened to Thanksgiving?
I'm not a Scrooge when it comes to Christmas, but it annoys me to be confronted with Christmas decorations and songs before Thanksgiving.
I remember I once did a story for a newspaper about a training class for Santas. They began work the day after Thanksgiving, and I remember thinking that was a bit excessive. But lately I've been seeing Christmas decorations before Halloween, and now, before Thanksgiving, they're everywhere.
For example, I was at Starbuck's this morning nursing a cup of coffee and the store was decorated with snowy wreaths, selling Christmas coffees and playing Christmas songs.
One patron suggested to an employee that it was a bit early for all this Christmas stuff, and another echoed, "Yeah!", and the employee kinda sighed, as if he agreed but didn't have any say in the matter.
Amen!
What's the matter with Thanksgiving? It's a nice low-key holiday that anybody can enjoy. It has Christian roots, but is not really a Christian holiday. Anybody can celebrate for any reason they want. You can be thankful for family or football, or turkey deep fried in peanut oil, a day off of work, or whatever.
Can't you merchants at least notice Thanksgiving before diving into Christmas? You keep starting Christmas earlier and earlier, so by the time it really arrives I'm going to be sick of it.
I remember I once did a story for a newspaper about a training class for Santas. They began work the day after Thanksgiving, and I remember thinking that was a bit excessive. But lately I've been seeing Christmas decorations before Halloween, and now, before Thanksgiving, they're everywhere.
For example, I was at Starbuck's this morning nursing a cup of coffee and the store was decorated with snowy wreaths, selling Christmas coffees and playing Christmas songs.
One patron suggested to an employee that it was a bit early for all this Christmas stuff, and another echoed, "Yeah!", and the employee kinda sighed, as if he agreed but didn't have any say in the matter.
Amen!
What's the matter with Thanksgiving? It's a nice low-key holiday that anybody can enjoy. It has Christian roots, but is not really a Christian holiday. Anybody can celebrate for any reason they want. You can be thankful for family or football, or turkey deep fried in peanut oil, a day off of work, or whatever.
Can't you merchants at least notice Thanksgiving before diving into Christmas? You keep starting Christmas earlier and earlier, so by the time it really arrives I'm going to be sick of it.
Saturday, November 13, 2004
The Polar Express
I just saw the movie, The Polar Express, about a boy who awakens Christmas Eve to a steam train that stops right outside his house. He gets on and it takes him to the North Pole. I really liked the movie. In fact it brought back a strange memory I have barely thought about for decades.
I remember when I was a child I awoke in the early morning and looked out the bedroom window of our little crackerbox house. As I looked I saw a steam train with a light and black smoke from its funnel, silently puffing up the street toward my house. It was a short train, with just a few cars. It wasn't as nice as the Polar Express and it wasn't Christmas Eve, but, like the Polar Express, it was mysterious in an entrancing sort of way.
Later in the morning I told my mom and dad about the train.
They looked confused. They said there was no train on our street. My mom quite sensibly told me there were no tracks. She pointed out that we lived in a canyon that dead-ended into the mountain. There was nowhere for a train to go. She suggested I'd been dreaming. But all her comments seemed absurd to me at the time. Maybe the train was going to a gold mine at the head of the canyon, I thought. And her objection that there were no tracks seemed to me to be pure quibbling. But her logic eventually led me to doubt... somewhat. But to this day I still halfway believe that there is a steam train that goes up Pasadena Glen Road.
And I wonder where it's going.
I remember when I was a child I awoke in the early morning and looked out the bedroom window of our little crackerbox house. As I looked I saw a steam train with a light and black smoke from its funnel, silently puffing up the street toward my house. It was a short train, with just a few cars. It wasn't as nice as the Polar Express and it wasn't Christmas Eve, but, like the Polar Express, it was mysterious in an entrancing sort of way.
Later in the morning I told my mom and dad about the train.
They looked confused. They said there was no train on our street. My mom quite sensibly told me there were no tracks. She pointed out that we lived in a canyon that dead-ended into the mountain. There was nowhere for a train to go. She suggested I'd been dreaming. But all her comments seemed absurd to me at the time. Maybe the train was going to a gold mine at the head of the canyon, I thought. And her objection that there were no tracks seemed to me to be pure quibbling. But her logic eventually led me to doubt... somewhat. But to this day I still halfway believe that there is a steam train that goes up Pasadena Glen Road.
And I wonder where it's going.
Friday, November 12, 2004
Fixing Social Security
President Bush has suggested that people be allowed to put part of their Social Security money in their own retirement accounts. Fine, but the problem, as I understand it, is that the Social Security Administration is not putting your money away safe in the bank where it's earning interest (as it should be doing), but rather is using your money to pay current retirees. Therefore, if the gummint lets people put part of their money into their own retirement accounts, that means there's less money to pay current retirees, which means that for a while, there'd be a shortfall.
With that in mind, I want to share my ignorance - for free! - about how to minimize the shortfall to reduce the cost of Social Security.
Why not let anybody who is eligible for Social Security work tax free? No federal taxes - at all. If these people were going to retire otherwise, that's no income loss to the government. In return, the government would ask that they delay collecting Social Security for a few years. Nobody would have to do this, but some would, and that would save money. This has the side benefit of helping boost the economy and keeping seniors active and hopefully healthier. Also, I suspect that some of these seniors would be covered by their companies' health plans, which would save money for Medicare.
Alternately, working Social Security recipients could be taxed at maybe five percent of the normal rate, and the small amount that is collected from them would help fund Social Security.
The Social Security age for people just beginning to work should be raised. Lifespans have been increasing and people can generally work longer. People in the system, however, were promised a retirement date, and we should honor that.
Why not let workers put part of their Social Security money in private accounts if they agree to wait until they're older to withdraw their money. The older they are, the less delay they have to accept. If they want no delay, they'd just keep their money in the current system.
Why not give workers larger Social Security pensions the longer they delay taking it. I believe this is done to some extent already, and I think the concept should be extended.
Why not give people the option to donate their money to the Social Security system. Not many people will do that, but even if some do, it would help.
With that in mind, I want to share my ignorance - for free! - about how to minimize the shortfall to reduce the cost of Social Security.
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
Thoughts on the U.S. Election
As I reflect on the election, I think it is interesting that a large turnout usually helps the Democrats because there are more Democrats than Republicans, though they aren't as disciplined about voting, so if you can get those Democrats to the polls, you should win. But in this election the turnout was huge, and still the Republicans won.
Why? Is the electorate becoming more Republican?
Possibly. James Taranto at OpinionJournal thinks that what he calls the "Roe Effect" is coming into play. His assumption is that people who believe abortion is okay (by which he means Democrats) are more likely to have abortions. This may mean they have fewer children, and if they have fewer children, 18 years later they're going to have fewer voters. Hmm. Maybe so.
I also think that if the Democrats had to lose, it is too bad for them they didn't lose by a huge margin. An overwhelming loss might have persuaded the vast majority that there is something wrong with their party, rather than letting their radicals weave loopy conspiracy theories to explain the loss. (I think Karl Rove gets far more credit from Democrats than he is due.)
Something else that strikes me is that the old media went all out for Kerry, and he still lost. CBS is only the most glaring example of this partisanship. I practically gave up reading the LA Times before the election because I could see that almost every political story was slanted to put the Bush administration in a bad light. But, as I said, he still lost, even with the huge power of the media behind him. And I believe he lost because of the Internet and bloggers. They questioned and ripped apart media stories, spread information (and misinformation, though that was quickly corrected) with breathtaking speed. They made the main stream media look ridiculous, and I think that can only have a salutary effect.
The old media says it has a watchdog role to perform, which is fine. But it is utter hypocrisy for them to then turn around and whine about others watching them. This election others did watch them, despite the whines, and with embarrassing effect on the old media. If this makes the newspapers and broadcast media shape up, great! And even if it doesn't... well, the Internet media is only growing stronger.
Why? Is the electorate becoming more Republican?
Possibly. James Taranto at OpinionJournal thinks that what he calls the "Roe Effect" is coming into play. His assumption is that people who believe abortion is okay (by which he means Democrats) are more likely to have abortions. This may mean they have fewer children, and if they have fewer children, 18 years later they're going to have fewer voters. Hmm. Maybe so.
I also think that if the Democrats had to lose, it is too bad for them they didn't lose by a huge margin. An overwhelming loss might have persuaded the vast majority that there is something wrong with their party, rather than letting their radicals weave loopy conspiracy theories to explain the loss. (I think Karl Rove gets far more credit from Democrats than he is due.)
Something else that strikes me is that the old media went all out for Kerry, and he still lost. CBS is only the most glaring example of this partisanship. I practically gave up reading the LA Times before the election because I could see that almost every political story was slanted to put the Bush administration in a bad light. But, as I said, he still lost, even with the huge power of the media behind him. And I believe he lost because of the Internet and bloggers. They questioned and ripped apart media stories, spread information (and misinformation, though that was quickly corrected) with breathtaking speed. They made the main stream media look ridiculous, and I think that can only have a salutary effect.
The old media says it has a watchdog role to perform, which is fine. But it is utter hypocrisy for them to then turn around and whine about others watching them. This election others did watch them, despite the whines, and with embarrassing effect on the old media. If this makes the newspapers and broadcast media shape up, great! And even if it doesn't... well, the Internet media is only growing stronger.
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