One faith, two faiths, three faiths four...Part Two

In part one we looked at many of the questions that could be construed as dividing points among Christians, and many of them are. But, does this divide Christianity itself into many faiths? Does Christianity present itself to be a monolithic religion while many splintered factions and denominations may suggest otherwise?

One argument that is frequently put forth is that Christianity at the core focuses on the "main and plain" doctrines (doctrine = "something taught"). Doctrines can be expressed in creeds, or summary statements of a belief that can quickly allows someone to distinguish between Christianity and other belief systems. The Bible itself contains creeds, such as found in Romans 10:9:

"that if you confess with your mouth Jesus as Lord, and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved"

One of the earliest creeds is the Apostles' Creed, dated to the 2nd century A.D. -

I believe in God, the Father almighty,
creator of heaven and earth.
I believe in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord.
He was conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit
and born of the Virgin Mary.
He suffered under Pontius Pilate,
was crucified, died, and was buried.
He descended into hell.
On the third day he rose again.
He ascended into heaven
and is seated at the right hand of the Father.
He will come again to judge the living and the dead.
I believe in the Holy Spirit,
the holy catholic Church,
the communion of saints,
the forgiveness of sins,
the resurrection of the body,
and the life everlasting.
Amen.

Reading the creed, you can get a sense of both affirmations and denials. For example, in the creed we affirm the resurrection of the body, and therefore deny that the life beyond death takes place in a disembodied spirit.

Another significant creed is the Nicene Creed, dated at 325 A.D. Similar to the Apostles' Creed, it codifies Christian belief and focuses on the person of Jesus as a defense against a growing heresy (teachings hostile to a belief) called Arianism. You may remember the Nicene Creed from references in Dan Brown's book the Da Vinci Code. The book is a taught thriller (I read it in 2 days!) but historically a train wreck. That's OK if an author takes liberties with history but acknowledges as much, but Brown purports his book to be historically factual.

Why do I bring this up? Because creeds express explicit affirmations and implict denials, they are subject to attack. And that's OK! We must ask the question, if we cannot defend what we believe, why would we believe it?

Many churches today express their beliefs in creedal statements, often a variation of the Apostles' and Nicence Creeds, or derived from the Bible without deviance from the creeds. I'm not sure why, but Eastpoint Church popped into my head as I was writing. Take a look at the creed, or belief statement; from Eastpoint Church here. It seemed logical to me to then Google for a west point church! Sure enough, you can read Westpoint Fellowship Church's creed at this page. Let's continue Googling: of course there is a North Point church and their creed is short enough to copy and paste here:

We believe in one God, who is Father, Son and Holy Spirit. That Jesus Christ the Savior for all men and women who put their faith in Him alone for eternal life. We believe that those who receive this new life in Christ are called to be holy in character and conduct, and can only live this way by being filled with the Holy Spirit. We believe in the Bible and seek to establish our faith and actions on its teachings. We believe God's will for people everywhere is to know Him and that the purpose of the church is to tell the world about Christ through its worship, witness, and loving deeds.

Last but not least in doing our due diligence one would think we would fine a South Point church, and not to be denied...we did! Over at SouthPoint Foursquare Church we find these creedal statements.

It looks like to the four corners of the globe, well at least the United States we find creeds that have a little grammatical and organizational variance, but would square up with the Apostles' and Nicene creeds. the question then on the table is this: if Christianity is a monolithic religion with a core that can be identified through the Bible and creedal statements that become essential beliefs, how do we account for the differences among us? That will be the topic of the next post on this subject!

Book Review - Perfume: the story of a murderer

This is an odd little book which I spotted on a colleague's desk and was graciously loaned to me. In some ways repugnant, but in others strangely compelling it is a story of scent and the investment of layers of meaning derived from and attributed to the odors which make up the days of our lives. The book is graphic, gritty, gratuitous and gripping. I could barely put it down.

The subject of the book, Jean-Baptiste Grenouille is born into a bloody beginning in 18th century France. The trail of blood is never far from his life as he attempts to satiate his unbending drive to concoct the perfect scent. Because Grenouille has such a highly developed, even preternatural; sense of smell it is inevitable that this skill would be tied into the vocation of perfume making. The historical setting is very well done with descriptive terms that helped me feel that I was observing first hand the events described in the book. There is a movie made from the book, and although it employs several fine actors I will likely abstain from seeing it as I'm not sure that the sensate landscape from reading could be reproduced onto the screen.

As an example of the writing here's a paragraph I particularly liked:

"He was delighted only by moonlight. Moonlight knew no colors and traced the contours of the terrain only very softly. It covered the land with a dirty gray, strangling life all night long. This world molded in lead, where nothing moved but the wind that fell sometimes like a shadow over the gray forests, and where nothing lived but the scent of the naked earth, was the only world that he accepted, for it was much like the world of his soul."

On a lighter note as hard as I tried I could not escape the 1970's hit song "Dead Skunk" by Loudon Wainright as I read the book:

Crossin' the highway late last night

He shoulda looked left and he shoulda looked right

He didn't see the station wagon car

The skunk got squashed and there you are!

You got yer Dead skunk in the middle of the road

Dead skunk in the middle of the road

You got yer dead skunk in the middle of the road

Stinkin' to high Heaven!

Take a whiff on me, that ain't no rose!

Roll up yer window and hold yer nose

You don't have to look and you don't have to see'

Cause you can feel it in your olfactory

I will admit that olfactory is one of my favorite words, and I also tender congratulations to the book's author Patrick Suskind for using the word judiciously and not liberally, as would be my tendency. I mean, how can you write a whole novel centered on the sense of smell and not use such a perfect word as olfactory on every page?

There is good character development also. Of particular interest to me was a perfumer named Baldini - a blustering, bumbling, bombastic bozo who develops an affection for Grenouille and takes him under his wing to teach him the trade.

There are three major parts to Grenouille's story. He begins as an outcast from society, and in the middle of the book is an interlude that sees his withdrawal from soceity, then in an interesting plot twist he is introduced into and accepted by society. Ultimately I have concluded that the subject of the book is not Grenouille, but his nose! Suskind is a great wordsmith, and I think his concept and commentary of the olfactory sense (oops - there I go) is wrapped in the story.

The story ends though in a macabre way that left me puzzled and irritated. I'll not be a total plot spoiler but I was not satisfied and even perturbed about the final events that transpired.

Other than then ending which left me flat, an enthralling read overall.

Charlie and the Chief

In Seattle, they utilize technology in dealing with car thiefs. They have "bait cars" that are equipped with GPS and auto shutoff devices. When the door is opened the clock starts ticking to disable the car remotely and then apprehend the thief. Occasionally though something does go wrong, as you can read here.

Well, in an unamed small Oregon town things aren't quite that sophisticated. May I cite an example? A few weeks ago some of Charlie's officers walked through headquarters and said to Charlie (captain) and the chief "hey we're going to a drug buy, wanna tag along?". "sure" they said, I'm surmising anything to get away from the paper pushing. They jumped into a marked unit and followed the parade to the location. Charlie and the Chief (sounds like a sitcom) backed their unit into an alley facing the street. The seller got spooked though and roared out of the location, his Honda civic spraying gravel like watermelon seeds from a Rotary club picnic contest.

With lightning quick reflexes Charlie and the Chief blasted out of their concealment, bubblegum lights a-flashing and tires a-smoking as they took off in hot pursuit. I'd like to say that their coffee spilled all over them and they spit out donut bites but that would be unfair stereotyping. They had left their coffee and donuts on their desks. The other units pulled out behind them like ducklings obediently following their mother through dangerous waters.

Alas, a difficulty was encountered! Charlie could not find the toggle for the siren! Silently they sped searching for signs of a siren switch. Now, this is a family blog so I must be careful but let me just say that the Chief, as he leaned over Charlie (who was driving erratically at high speeds) to search under the dashboard for the switch aroused curious speculation from the trailing officers.

Charlie was positioning for a PIT (precision immobilization technique), or as I like to refer to it as a TVI which is not a reference to a television action show but stands for tactical vehicle intervention, wherein 'tactical' ramming is used to strategically maneuver a car or truck off their direction of travel into a spin to bring the transgressor to a halt. I'll concede that I too have precisely immobilized a car, but it was my own car when a deer placed itself in my path. But that's another story.

However, before Charlie could enact his PIT the perpetrator decided to give up and spun into a large gravel area adjacent to the road. Charlie and the Chief roared in behind him, brakes churning a curtain of dust, gravel and discared cigarette buts into a patina of perilous possibilities as the other offices all roared into the cloud after them. In a moment of time we can imagine cop cars careening, officers with guns gesticulating and a scared suspect subdued.

Charlie and the Chief never did locate the siren switch. The officers determined that there is a moral to this story - never let an administrator do field work! Still, if I were ever to get arrested Charlie's the one that I would like to do it. Donuts and all.

One faith, two faiths, three faiths four...Part One

Four faiths make a religion and so do many more?!?!? You probably won't get the reference unless you were a kid in the late sixties and watched "The Banana Splits".
Tip: scroll to the bottom of the page at the link and look at the theme song lyrics.

January 7, 2006 - The Wall Street Journal published an article by Daniel Golden that describes how Wheaton College was delighted to have assistant professor Joshua Hochschild teach students about medieval philosopher Thomas Aquinas, one of Roman Catholicism's foremost thinkers. But when the popular teacher converted to Catholicism, the prestigious evangelical college reacted differently. It fired him.

The article goes on to describe how

"...Mr. Hochschild's dismissal captures tensions coursing through many of America's religious colleges. At these institutions, which are mostly Protestant or Catholic, decisions about hiring and retaining faculty members are coming into conflict with a resurgence of religious identity. Historically, religious colleges mainly picked faculty of their own faith. In the last third of the 20th century, however, as enrollments soared and higher education boomed, many Catholic colleges enhanced their prestige by broadening their hiring, choosing professors on the basis of teaching and research. As animosities between Catholics and Protestants thawed, some evangelical Protestant colleges began hiring faculty from other Christian faiths." (emphasis added)

Now you may think that this post will discuss the differences between Protestants and Catholics but I'll table that for a future discussion. What I'd like to address is the last sentence regarding hiring faculty from "other Christian faiths". Why is this so curious to me? The first thing I thought of when I read the article was the words of Jude (no, not "hey Jude"), the new testament writer Jude):

"Beloved, while I was making every effort to write you about our common salvation, I felt the necessity to write to you appealing that you contend earnestly for the faith which was once for all handed down to the saints." (emphasis added)

Look at Paul's admonition to the Corinthians (2 Corinthians 13:5):

"Test yourselves to see if you are in the faith; examine yourselves! Or do you not recognize this about yourselves, that Jesus Christ is in you--unless indeed you fail the test?" (emphasis added)

My point is this - that Biblical faith is singularly expressed, not in a plurality or variants of faith that in some way "add up" to Christianity. I'll cite one more example, again by Paul in Ephesians 4:4-6:

"For there is one body and one Spirit, just as you have been called to one glorious hope for the future. There is one Lord, one faith, one baptism, and one God and Father, who is over all and in all and living through all." (yes, once again emphasis added!)

Now, if I ask you to really really fast name as many Christian faiths as you could you might immediately say Catholics and Protestants. You might even start listing different Christian denominations. I like to write little jingles in my head, and to the chagrin of my colleagues sometimes even sing them! I might jingle out something like this -

Lutherans, Church of Christ and Quakers, what we all have in common is faith in our maker. Assemblies of God and Southern Baptists too - we all believe that Jesus died for you."

I should write commercials. Or maybe not. But lest I be charged with oversimplifying the issue let me be honest and admit that within Christianity, yes WITHIN CHRISTIANITY there is much difference in the expressions of faith and belief.

In the book Why I am not a Calvinist, Jerry Wells and Joseph Dongell write that

"The differences among evangelicals are not trivial, and we doubt the judgment of Carl Henry when he suggested that our differences amount to "disagreement...over a limited number of passages (Carl F.H. Henry, God, Revelation and Authority) We can point to numerous issues, spanning the entire scope of scripture that spark fervent debate and often separate us into distinct colonies of worship, ministry and witness"

How's that sound for "one" faith? Well, again in the interest of striving for some objectivity as I want to be fair and not mislead anyone into a uncritical Christian "party line" let's look at a list of these so called 'differences' that Wells and Dongell collected:

1. The eligibility of women for ordination in pastoral and teaching ministries without restriction.
2. The relationship between church and state, and the viability of a specifically Christian legislative agenda for a largely secular modern democracy.
3. The nature of a wife's submission to her husband.
4. The moral status of state-sponsored violence, whether in the form of declared war, restricted peacekeeping military action or capital punishment.
5. The intersection between modern science and the Bible, with focus on the prevailing theories of the Big Bang and biological evolution.
6. The fate of those who have never heard of the gospel and of those who have only seen or heard only a distorted presentation or modeling of it.
7. The theology of the sacraments, especially baptism - it's proper mode (immersion only?), its proper subjects (infants or believers?) and the sense in which it imparts grace.
8. The appropriateness of divorce and remarriage.
9. The scope and function of spiritual gifts.
10. The degree of corrective discipline administered by a congregation to its wayward members.
11. The normative spiritual profile of the Christian life with the possibility of a real moral transformation, victory over sin and genuine Christ-likeness.
12. The viability of a clergy/laity distinction.
13. God's end time program.
14. The role of Satan and the demonic as personal, intentional and particular forces in the experience of believers.
15. The nature and scope of exorcism.
16. The nature of eternal punishment and the doctrine of Hell.

Want more? Wells and Dongell go on to expose some other of the finer points of doctrinal disagreements within the church:

1. Are human beings so fallen that they must be saved exclusively through the unilateral and unconditional action of God?
2. Is it possible for human beings to resist (successfully) the saving approaches of God's grace?
3. Does God enable all persons to respond positively to the available light?
4. Can any who were truly once redeemed through faith in Christ fail to receive final salvation?

Now with my degree in theology and especially post degree studies on my own. I have an opinion on most of the above points in both lists. But the question is, should we (Christians) ultimately divide over these differences and opine that Christianity is a religion of many faiths? Stay tuned for more thoughts coming to a blog near you soon ....

Best Bumper Stickers

I enjoy creative bumper stickers, especially theological ones:

Business Trip - Lancaster

In a previous post I wrote about a business trip to Honolulu, Hawaii. Not a bad place to go for business. Recently I went on a business trip to Lancaster, Pennsylvania. Not a bad place to go for business, but as one might think, there are slight cultural differences.

We flew into Harrisburg via Cincinnati and then drove about 30 miles to Lancaster. As we descended I felt a tingling in my skin. I did not realize it but we had passed directly over Three Mile Island! I hoped that the residual radiation combined with being bitten by an insect would give me super powers (think Spiderman) - but alas twas not to be.

However, I did take a cue from good ol' Dr. Teller. As Don Delillo recounts in the novel Underworld, allegedly Dr. Teller (architect of the world's first atomic explosion) feared the effects of the blast even from his viewing site 20 miles away he felt it prudent to apply suntan lotion to his face and hands. Dunno if it really works, but I'll confess to a little bit of temptation to have a TSA approved container of Coppertone in my carry on.

As an example of cultural differences, as we arrived in Harrisburg area there were a few vehicles on display in the baggage claim area. I found that somewhat unusual and wondered why an AIRPORT would promote CAR advertising. Well, one of them was a nice Lexus but the other - wow, it was a tractor. And one heck of a tractor. Painted traditional John Deere green, but it looked oddly attractive - visualize a kross (ha ha ha) between a workhorse Kubota and the racy lines of a Kaliber and you'll never look at the north forty (or is it south forty?) in the same way again.

I was very careful with my pro-nunc-iation in Lancaster. You see, I was born in Lancaster, but not Pennsylvania. My emergence into the world took place in Lancaster, California. Now, as every good Californian knows Lancaster is pronounced "lan-caster", like "plan-castor". However in Pennsylvania it is pronounced "lan-custer". I did not correct the Pennsylvanians who continually pronounced it the wrong way.

I had a cold, and it manifested itself by turning my left eye bright red. I felt OK, but greeting the client I felt like cyclops. I thought it would be kinda cool to wear an eyepatch, but then I would have started to talk like a pirate:

Arrh, matey - so ye be buyin' an online banking solution? Well let's talk about yer implementation over a mug o' rum. We'll make them other vendors walk a little plank, won't we? Shiver me timbers if I don't show you why we be bee-in the best. Yo ho ho and all that.

Well, the meetings went OK even though I was a bit self conscious. During one session my boss asked to borrow the rental car keys, under the pretext that she had left her power cord in the hotel room. She swears that she really did forget it, but let it also be memorialized in this post that she also took advantage of the opportunity to find a hard rock station, crank up the radio, turn heater fan to full, put my seat all the way back, and turn on the windshield wipers to "warp speed". Yes, I was caught by surprise.

One evening after work my colleague John and I ventured out for dinner. I say 'venture' because I'm kind of a fuddy duddy when I travel, usually staying close to the hotel. But John said something like "let's just drive around until we find something". Wow, I felt the tingling sensation of the recklessness of youth filling my mind with endless possibilities like windblown tumbleweeds drifting through the vast Mojave desert of my youth. We'll just drive! Yeah, we got all night in a rental car in a strange town (strange as in foreign, not in people. And not foreign as in foreigners but foreign like unusual. Not that the town was unusual...I give up).

And drive we did. We just motored around, got on the pike (on the west coast we have highways, back east they call them 'pikes') and headed north. Or south or it might have been west, perhaps east. But we were driving! In a rental car! In a strange, foreign, unusual town!

As we wandered, a moment of creepy eeriness descended like fog covering the grounds of the haunted mansion. We had driven in a big circle and right back to the client's office! Wow. OK, we drove around some more and found this awesome restaurant called Hayden Zugs. From mass media marketing musings we obtain these observations:

Haydn Zug’s, located in Historic Lancaster County Pennsylvania, offers fine dining in a colonial atmosphere. A member of the prestigious Dirona Association of fine dining establishments, Haydn Zug’s has been offering fine dining since 1969. Today, the restaurant boasts an award-winning wine cellar that has been memorialized in Wine Spectator magazine.

I don't really care about that. What I care about is the incredible steak, indescribable beer, intoxicating bread, and the cutest little itty bitty containers you have ever seen. It was one of those places where they take your coat and give you a little ticket to claim it. The Taco Bells I have frequented do not have that service, although some of them do have people that will take your coat if you are not looking. If you were to go to Lancaster you MUST eat there.

The Trip Home

John and I parted ways at the Harrisburg airport, with me heading to Cincinatti for my connecting flight to PDX and he going through D.C. On the plane was a small group of what I perceived to be soldiers. They seemed so young, and each of them carried a manila envelope with what might have been their orders. They did not appear to be seasoned travelers and somewhat unsure of themselves. I couldn't help wonder if they were on their way to Iraq. I have no idea if they were even in the service but I said a prayer for their safe passage through the war if they were. I dozed off but then woke up during our descent into Cincinatti and began to converse with the guy in the seat next to me. Turns out he was a Commander and General of a Marine Corps Division. Wow! Although our time was limited we hit it off and he gave me his address and contact info in Atlanta. Hope to see you someday again!

At last I began the long flight home from Cincinatti. I hate flying west. Not just because of bucking the headwinds from the jetstream, but also watching...the...sun...set....forever. Now, I like seeing a sunset as much as the next guy. But when you are chasing the sun it drags on and on and on... Finally, as the sun sank into the horizon the waning rays caught the wing and it shimmered like a sumari sword severing the currents of air as we passed through daylight into twilight. Little towns emerged far below as their little lights became visible. Made me think of that song by - I think - St. Etienne (or maybe Ivy) with the lyrics "stars above us, cars below us". Ah, a poetic moment.

And there you have it - Dave visits Pennsylvania.

Sticks and Stones will break my bones...

...and so will being clumsy.

So there I was. Sherry had a friend who had a birthday to stop by and celebrate. As Cindy and Sherry were both in the kitchen blocking my access to the refrigerator (a very dangerous and precarious position to assume) I attempted to maneuver past them with a single, fluid motion in a daring display of my dexterity. Unfortunately, our cabinets and countertops did not comply. I jammed my toe and grunted in pain as my nerves communicated to my brain that injury was not only imminent but realized.

With an ungraceful, non-fluidic response I stumbled and Cindy naturally stuck out her arms to break my fall. In an instant of time I'm wracked with pain, in the arms of another woman, in my kitchen, in front of my wife.

From previous daring displays of dexterity I knew I had broken my little toe.

But, we are a culture that looks to put any blame on another entity or circumstance, right? Of course. Not wanting to appear clumsy, I searched diligently for an excuse. And found one! I take pulmicort for asthma. some of the documented side effects include:

Immediate and delayed hypersensitivity reactions including rash, contact dermatitis, angioedema, and bronchospasm; symptoms of hypocorticism and hypercorticism; psychiatric symptoms including depression, aggressive reactions, irritability, anxiety, and psychosis; Bad taste, headache, nausea and dryness of the throat were reported less frequently. Other side effects reported on occasion were tiredness, thirst and diarrhea.

Sounds like a typical day at work, doesn't it? Well, you can add to the list "bone disorders including avascular necrosis of the femoral head and osteoporosis".

Of course - broken bones! Ha, the scapegoat at last - the explanation for all my problems - drugs! All this time I thought I was afflicted with MCS (male clumsiness syndrome) but it turns out to be the drug I'm taking. But wait, I broke the same toe long before I had asthma...

We rode the tram! We rode the tram!

It began with this weird looking tower being constructed on the east side of I-5 just as begins to dump right into downtown Portland. I was (and still am) fascinated by it's unique architecture, looking like any moment it would topple to the ground and crush hapless motorists on the freeway below.

Eventually I found that it was the support tower for the Portland Tram. Ahhhh - the Portland Tram!

Like any project of this magnitude it was not without issues, particularly budget. Significantly over budget already, cost overruns followed cost overruns. Initially budgeted for $15.5 million, the project came in at $57 million! That's over twice what I make in a year! Leaving a fired program director in it's wake, the spiraling budget almost ground the project to a halt and abandonment.



Well, now it's finished and working great. Our friends Ed & Fern called us up one night a few weeks ago and said "let's go ride the tram". Sure, why not ride the tram? Also it was a cheap date as in the month of February rides were free, now the fare is 4 bucks for a round trip ticket.


There are two cabins, but I think a more appropriate moniker would be "eggs". Like silvery orbs escaping the gentle puff of a child with a bubble pipe they float above the Portland cityscape in a steady but unhurried pace.




Here's the (boring) technical description: The Tram cabins travel 3,300 linear feet between the South Waterfront terminal adjacent to the OHSU Center for Health & Healing, and the upper terminal at the Kohler Pavilion on OHSU's main campus. Traveling at 22 miles per hour, the Tram cabins rise 500 feet for the three-minute trip over I-5, the Lair Hill neighborhood and the Southwest Terwilliger Parkway.


22 miles per hours is not blindingly fast, but when the eggs pass one another you get a sense of speed that is a unique sensation. Now here's the cool part they don't tell you - as the egg ascends up to and then passes over the crest of the tower there is a marked drop that will surprise you! Not scary enough to make kids cry, but more than you would expect. We rode the tram for six round trip cycles and after the first few times of jockeying for a window view from the cabin, I would strategically position myself right in the middle with the aid of a support rail. Passing over the tower gave me the opportunity to surf, if you will; the sudden descent. Woo hoo!


When the cabins dock, it is also very cool. It doesn't take much imagination to pretend that you are in a shuttle docking at a space station. I also enjoyed looking at the mechanics of the tram operations with the cables, wheels and counterweights.


My favorite part of the experience? Because the tram connects the OHSU Center for Health & Healing to Oregon Health & Sciences University (or as we locals call it - "pill hill") one would expect an extraordinary concern for safety and the tram has much redundancy and controls installed to reassure and reinforce how stable and safe the experience is. Note though that the concern for safety stretches beyond the tram itself to the Center for Health & Healing as demonstrated by this sign affixed above the toilets:

"Toilets and urinals are flushed with reclaimed water - do not drink"

Thank you! As it is not my habit to drink out of a toilet I'm sure that the admonition will apply to others who may occasionally succumb to the temptation.

For more about the tram you can visit here and here.

Tribute to Bruce Metzger

In the New York Times obituaries on Friday February 16 the death of Bruce Manning Metzger is noted (born February 9, 1914, deceased February 13, 2007). Dr. Metzger was a towering figure skilled in Biblical languages, particularly koine (i.e. "common") Greek and his studies of the New Testament and Apocryphal books. Let it not be overlooked that he was also skilled and fluent in Latin, Hebrew, Coptic, Syriac, Russian, German, French and Dutch. To contrast, I'm skilled in the English dialects of Californian (like, you know) and Oregonian (vente, nonfat, no whip, extra hot raspberry mocha with a sticker and a thermal sleeve).

Dr. Metzger was best known to the general public of his supervising of the New Revised Standard Version of the Bible, which uses contemporary English and does away with much of the exclusively masculine language of previous translations. Pronouns like thee, thou, and thine found contemporary counterparts that were more understandeable, along with eliminating verbs such as art, hast and hadst. Although Metger could be a lightning rod for convservatives, overall his accomplishements and defense of the manuscript evidence for the Bible was towering.

Why is this all so important anyway? Let me digress for a moment and provide a few thoughts on translation. The challenge is this: although the literal translation of words remains constant, language changes over time. Therefore, to be meaningful the language must be accessible to the reader. Can you think of an example? Although somewhat rough, if I say "I made an inquiry into the life of Bruce Metzger" you would know what I mean. But, to the savvy internet literati I could also say "I googled Bruce Metzger" and that meaning would be the same. Think of words that even weren't around even 15 years ago - bling, podcast.


The translator is also challenged by not only making something accessible, and yet be faithful to the original word itself balanced with context and meaning. In Biblical translation these concepts are expressed as functional dynamics and formal dynamics. Functional dynamics will take a thought for thought approach, where formal dynamics takes a word for word approach. I find it helpful in my studies to incorporate both types of translations. For example, Matthew 9:11 in the New American Standard Bible reads:

When the Pharisees saw this, they said to His disciples, "Why is your Teacher eating with the tax collectors and sinners?"

That is a formal dynamic, where the text contains the literal words "tax collectors" and "sinners". Now look at this same verse in the New Living Translation:

But when the Pharisees saw this, they asked his disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with such scum?”

Now to be fair the NLT does contain a footnote that references the precise translation of tax collectors and sinners. But what the NLT does is to draw out the context, to show that the Pharisees (a sect of Judiasm at that time) despised and looked down on tax collectors and sinners.

Let it be said though that Dr. Metzger was not above criticism, as some evangelicals criticized him for saying that many biblical books, like the book of Genesis, were "composites of several sources" rather than the work of individual authors. Metzger's contention that certain extra-biblical books were inspired but not canonical was also critiqued by some evangelicals, who said such beliefs undermined Scripture's inerrancy.

However, his legacy will not soon be forgotten. One of my favorite quotes attributed to Metzger is this:

"You have to understand that the canon was not the result of a series of contests involving church politics. … . You see, the canon is a list of authoritative books more than it is an authoritative list of books. These documents didn't derive their authority from being selected; each one was authoritative before anyone gathered them together."

Love it! For a personal tribute John Piper records his thoughts here. Through gates of splendor Metzger has now entered into his rest.

Dream On

No, this isn't about the Aerosmith song that rocked the airwaves in the 70's (although I did have the 8-track tape when it came out).

I often have vivid, strange dreams. One of my all time favorites is when I was piloting (captaining? driving?) a PT boat through rough waters - the 3 powerful packard v-12 engines caused a thrumming underneath my feet as I held the boat steady and roared through the waves like a lasik surgery on an old eyeball.

Well, this dream started in a warehouse in Los Angeles with me supplying drugs to one of my old friends, Tyler. Now I should qualify that Tyler was sick and these were not illegal drugs but over the counter medicine. I left Tyler and the warehouse and walked down the street to a small bungalow of the type that overtook the city in the 50's and 60's like lighter fluid on a bed of charcoal.

In the bungalow was a woman in her mid 30's whose name I never learned, but she did have an 8 year old daughter named Ivy who was cute as a spring flower pushing it's way up out of the drab winter soil. As we talked together Ivy's mom mentioned that Leo was going to come over.

A few minutes later Leonardo DiCaprio entered the house. I was trying to be as nonchalant as a pretty high school girl snubbing an eyeglass wearing nerd (note the subtle reference to my high school days). I said "hey Leo, how you doing"? Apparently he knew me as he replied "great Dave, how are you?". He then said to Ivy "would you like to see some magic tricks?" "sure" she replied. Leo then proceeded to pull a red pocket square (I dream in color) from his breast pocket (he was wearing a sport coat) and proceeded to do some tricks. After a few minutes I bid a farewell and left the house.

I walked down to a street corner and up drove my grandma (now deceased). She was driving a convertible Cadillac with the top down and it was filled with a bunch of high school girls who were indifferent to me apparently reinforcing my poor self image. Why is this relevant? Grandma never drove in her entire life. Well, she went around a corner and the shocks were bad and the heavy caddie leaned far into the turn. Then, we were paralleling a mass transit system light rail. For some reason I extended my arm to put my hand in the air. As we drove underneath a sign, my finger was caught in the sign. Grandma wasn't driving very fast but I knew the momentum would rend my finger from my hand if I didn't do something fast. Fortunately, I was wearing gloves! I managed to extricate my finger from the glove and all was well.

We stopped the car where the tracks ended at a huge Macy's store. All commuters were forced to disembark like ants sprayed with bug spray fleeing their anthill. But all was not lost! The light rail tracks continued right into the Macy's store. The commuters could then walk through the store following the tracks as they wound their way through the men's department, appliances, etc. The tracks were shiny polished silver and rather than being a distraction they lent an elegant air to the store design. The tracks finally led outside the store to another statioin where the commuters could then embark and continue on their journey.

And then I woke up.

Business Trip - Honolulu

I had the recent opportunity to travel to Honolulu for business. I do enjoy traveling to places I have never been before, but this was certainly an exception! As usual, the trip was full of new adventures. Join with me as I recount some highlights:

Everybody's gone surfing....

I flew in early to have a day to myself. It has been over a decade since I was last on Oahu, and although I have been to Pearl Harbor (where the memories are still vivid and put a lump in my throat) and Hanauma Bay (motto: let's see how many haolies we can cram into this small bay and then snicker at them) but it has been long enough that I don't remember the North Shore.

Ah, the North Shore - a mecca of surfing, and especially in the winter when the waves are at the biggest. Home to some of the most famous beaches in the world - Waimea Bay, Sunset Beach, and last but certainly not least the Banzai Pipeline. The cool thing is that there was a surfing competition at the the Pipeline, camera crews and everything. Probably 150 people had turned out and I sat on the beach for a while just hanging out. However, when I got to Sunset Beach it was incredible! Huge waves were forming and breaking far from the shore, I'm guessing 15-18 feet high. The surfers were incredible, and in my uneducated opinion the surfing was much "mo betta" than at the Pipeline.

Splish splash I was takin' a bath

I was sandy and sweaty after spending the day at the North Shore. Returning to the hotel, I noticed that the bathroom had a jacuzzi tub! Now I'm a shower guy and haven't taken a bath since I don't know when. However, I thought this would be just right. I filled the tub, turned on the jacuzzi jets and sank into restful bliss. I noticed on the counter a little tray of toiletries. There was a bottle labeled "bath something", where the something refers to a word I don't remember. I picked up the bottle and gave a good squeeze into the tub. Suddenly, a high tide of bubbles began to rise. Quickly they rose to my chest, then chin, and threatened to drown me! By the time I turned the jets off, there were bubbles spilling over onto the floor and moving toward the bathroom door. I survived the attack.

Superbowl Sunday

I'm not a football fan, so when the game started I went out to the hotel pool. It was a great experience having the whole deck and pool to myself! After a good swim I showered (eschewing the bubble bath bad behavior) and went out to eat. I found a Don Ho restaurant where the denizens were inside watching and screaming at the game. What does that mean? That means that even at the dinner hour I had a seat out on the veranda where I was caressed by a gentle breeze, enjoying a magnificent view, and supping on tropical delicacies.

Elevator noises

The hotel I stayed at had peculiar characteristics. It started life as condos, but as the financial district grew around it a renovation occurred and ownership passed to turn it into a business traveler hotel. In my room the outside walls were floor to ceiling windows, where I could sit with my morning coffee and watch the sparkling sunrise slowly illuminate the industrial section of the bay that my window faced. Sunlight would glint off the rusting and towering cranes as they slowly loaded cargo containers on massive ships to soon traverse the ocean blue. Slight oil slicks would occasionally present a soft rainbow pattern hovering over the water. One of the more interesting facets of this diamond of a hotel was the elevators. Each one had an unusal, slightly unnerving, noise. I'll call them elevator A, B and C. Elevator A kind of squeaked, like the cables needed lubricating. Elevator B occasionaly thumped, like there was an obstruction in the shaft such as a speed bump that it would hit each time. Elevator C banged, such as the carriage was floating loose in the shaft and hit the walls in the ascent/descent.

There's no place like home.

On my last night I was wandering around and literally right across the street was what looked to be an older (brick) building that had been converted to offices. On the building were these words: The Oregon Building. Over the door was this word: Portland. How nice to have a subtle reminder of home sweet home in Honolulu of all places!

I want to believe.

It was a dark and stormy night. Although no rain was falling the wind was whipping violently. There I was, not on some lonely country road but going south on 217 in rush hour traffic.

Suddenly, there it was. When you expect a visit from a monster, a myth, a legend you expect it in a creepy mansion or a deserted gas station on a dark desert highway. Not in rush hour traffic. But I could not deny what my eyes had seen.

You see, I saw a sea bat. I did not know that they ventured this far inland. Black as the night, with a wingspan of about 3 feet across it hovered I'm guessing about 15 feet above the highway. Wings gently flapping and using the force of the wind it looked like it was about to swoop down on an unsuspecting automobile and rip its victims right through the roof. My heart skipped a beat as terror began to pump raw adrenaline into my body. Fight or flight? I was ready to fly, guy!

Now, lest you accuse me of highway hallucinations let me say that it could have been just a garbage bag flapping and floating in the breeze. Sure, it could have been the overactive imagination of a stressed out rush hour minion. Sure, it could also have been the pepperoni pizza from lunch.

However, I'm not the first to experience the terror that a sea bat can visit upon an unsuspecting soul. The first known sighting of a sea bat has been documented by my friend Steve here.

You may say there is no such thing as a sea bat, but as for me and Seaman Murphy - we believe.

Putting the Quality in Assurance

I use a networking tool that I find very helpful called LinkedIn. Every now and then I surf former places of employment or do a name search to see if anyone I know is a member.

A few days ago I found a person whose profile indicated proficiency in quality assurance. In the software development world QA provides the function of checking work that the engineers produce to ensure that the specifications were met and to undercover any potential "bugs" or defects. I tell you that because QA is a very precise endeavor and attention to detail is paramount.

This particular individual (I did not know him) had provided his job title as:

Quality Asserance Manager

I feel reassered that the software he is in charge of testing will werk jest fine.

Oh the weather outside is frightful....

We had a storm yesterday. Now, here in Portland we're used to rain. Lots of rain. Rain, rain, rain rain. But this was a snow storm. Our USPS team lived up to the motto of "neither rain nor snow...." in admirable fashion.

Well, we just don't do snow. That's not how we roll. Our daring denizens were not dismayed and dashed into the winter wonderland with nary a care nor caution. Turns out that maybe a little care and caution could have been perhaps a better idea.

Examples you ask? Examples I provide. In any city it is probable that encounters of road rage will present themselves. But here in Portland we have snowball rage. Let's suppose that you are driving down the street. Some teenagers are throwing snowballs at each other. What a picture of wintertime bliss! But wait - what if a random, not even intentional, snowball hits your car? What should you do? Of course! Jump out and stab one of the little hooligans. Welcome to Portland.

Well, at least our school systems exhibit the proper precaution. Very quickly schools planned and communicated their closures. Except for the suburb of Beaverton. In the face of impending snow and ice the district determined that they would take a stand against nature. The schools would remain open and the buses were sent to fetch the students. And then the district realized that, well maybe they should not have done that. Several chained up buses slid off the road, and nature had her revenge when the superintendent drove out to fly the flag and rescue some of the kids. Her car slid off of the road and into the bus.

But that's not all - among the dozens of kids that were injured in sledding accidents is the tragic story of a young girl that was being towed behind her father's pickup. He lost control and she was flung into a concrete school bench and suffered fatal injuries. Reports indicate that he was drinking and could face criminal charges. Sad, so very sad.

Well, you may think that I'm exaggerating but check this video clip out. Oh yeah, add to the list that we don't stay inside where it is safe. Just like the faithful postal workers mentioned above (Lisa, Al - you rock!) we know how to drive in bad weather and aren't afraid to show it.

Happy Anniversary - 10 Years!

10 years ago today Sherry and I held hands running across the finish line at the Honolulu Marathon. Yesterday 10 years ago Sherry and I celebrated her birthday at the Hard Rock Cafe in Lahaina. Today, 10 years ago Sherry and I were married at Papakea Resort just north of Ka'anapali on Maui.

It's amazing how quickly the time goes by, and our lives have changed - yet we remain in love and grateful for the gift of each other's support and commitment as through this life we travel! There seems to be a pattern in marriage, where at some point there is a "tipping" if you will where we acknowledge the passion experienced early now finds it's counterbalance in stability and supportiveness for each other. That's the way we feel - safe, secure and comforted as we continue to learn about each other, even after a decade of being together. I think about our vows, how much they did and how much they still mean. Have I fulfilled all of these? Certainly not! But I continue to let them provide direction and substance to our life together.

1. I promise to give you the best of myself and to ask of you no more than you can give.
2. I promise to respect you as your own person and to realize that your interests, desires and needs are no less important than my own.
3. I promise to share with you my time and attention and to bring joy, strength and imagination to our relationship.
4. I promise to keep myself open to you, to let you see through the window of my world into my innermost fears and feelings, secrets and dreams.
5. I promise to grow along with you - to be willing to face changes in order to keep our friendship alive and exciting.
6. I promise to seek God's will and praise him continually with you as we discover all He has for us.
7. I promise to love you in good times and bad, in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer, with all I have to give and all I feel inside in the only way I know how - completely and forever.
   

What have I learned in 10 years of marriage? A whole lot! And not enough! I suppose I could ramble on for pages. But one thing that sticks out is how similar and how different we are. We had rented a tandem on Maui, and our plan was to ride it from Lahaina to Kihei, eat lunch and come back. If I recall correctly it was about 20 miles to Kihei. Our tandem was lettered Fred on the front seat tube, and Wilma on the back seat tube. We took off and immediately had problems. I would not communicate with Sherry. She needed to know when I was slowing, stopping, accelerating or shifting. And for shifting she wanted to know if I was upshifting our downshifting. We got into an argument, and then finally developed a good steady pace, augmented by communication.

I should tell you that I was training for a triathlon scheduled the week after we arrived home. In my vision for the day I decided we would ride aggressively and get some good training in. In Sherry's view of the day we would have a leisurely ride as we enjoyed the sights. Naturally, we got into an argument. We managed to get through that and made our way to Kihei. I had thought of a fast food lunch, as people really do go to Maui for the Taco Bell, right? Wrong. At least in Sherry's view. So, we got into an argument. Well, we managed to agree on lunch and then made our way back to Kihei. About three quarters of the way we decided to change positions and let Sherry captain the tandem. We started again, and I still wanted to control the bike. Yes, we got into an argument. Then, we realized how stupid it all was - here we are in one of the most beautiful places on earth, arguing all day and missing the moment entirely. We started (no, not arguing!) laughing until tears were rolling down our cheeks at the absurdity of it all.

Why do I tell you this? The card I picked for Sherry showed a little happy cartoon of a husband and wife on a tandem with the inscription that says Happy Anniversary Sweetheart! On the inside it says "we make a good team". And we do! But not in the way we would ever imagine. You see, we will make it to the finish line. And we will do it as a team. But I've found that I will never be Sherry and she will never be me (duhhhh). Our similarities drew us together, and our differences rather than dividing create the opportunity for the miracle that love is to flourish in our lives. Yes, we will make it to the finish line. Together. With Sherry on her bike, and me on mine!

I love you sweetie.

Bong Hits 4 Jesus

Now that's an evangelistic approach! I suppose the temptations of the cult of the cannabis extend back thousands of years, even to Old Testament era where a pagan king got Daniel high. OK, all bad puns aside the situation is this:

It all started in 2002, when high school senior Joseph Frederick unfurled a 14-foot banner reading "Bong Hits 4 Jesus" during a field trip to watch the Olympic torch pass through Juneau, Alaska. His Principal at the time, Deborah Morse, tore down the sign and suspended him for 10 days.

Now, to the uninitiated I might add that a bong is a device used to smoke marijuana or hashish through a water filled container. I might add that is what we used a bong for in the 1970's, I'm not sure (and this is a good thing!) if bongs are even used today, or if so what for.

Anyway, Frederick sued alleging that his freedom of speech had been violated. Despite failing locally, in March of this year the U.S. 9th Circuit Court of Appeals agreed with him, ruling that school officials may not "punish and censor non-disruptive" speech by students at school-sponsored events simply because they object to the message.

But guess who stood up the 9th Circuit Court? None less than the Whitewater Superstarr Kenneth Starr! He urged the court to re-examine the decision. According to his petition

"this case presents the Court with a much-needed opportunity to resolve a sharp conflict among federal courts (and to eliminate confusion on the part of school boards, administrators, teachers, and students) over whether the First Amendment permits regulation of student speech when such speech is advocating or making light of illegal substances."

But as Emil Steiner asks, is it just about "illegal substances" or could this ruling allow schools to tear down any banners they don't like? What about these scenarios, would the banner be OK?

• Guns 4 Jesus
• Cigarettes 4 Jesus
• Doctor Prescribed Oxycontin 4 Jesus
  

That's a great question Emil! The center of the tumult involves free speech and it's relationship to illegal substances. But what if the banner said something like this:

• High School Seniors 4 Jesus
  

Or what if the subject and object of the phrase were reversed?

• Jesus 4 Bong Hits
  

Unless Jesus was declared to be an illegal substance, those would likely only create a tumult within the catholic (little 'c') church. But wouldn't it be fun to see Starr get wrapped up in that? Replay the famous definition of what the word "is" is and you can see this get to be entertaining real fast!

Well, although I would never condone taking a bong hit for Jesus some other things that are done "4 Jesus" have resulted in legal action.

In Crown Point Indiana as the AP reported February 18, 2002 four families sued a a church whose leaders they say forced their children to drink a mix of dog food, salsa, sauerkraut, sardines, potted meat, eggnog and cottage cheese. A youth pastor who organized the New Year's Eve event for teen-agers said the "gross-out" contest was for laughs and no one was forced to ingest the mixture that had been chewed and spit out. Sandra Gomez whose 13-year-old son won $50 for drinking the mixture, said the boy developed diarrhea and stomach cramps and was sick for about a week.

Sounds like a made for TV situation, doesn't it:

FEAR FACTOR 4 JESUS!

Book Review - Everyman

Philip Roth brings us a small (182 page) book with a big meaning. Although Benjamin Franklin is who the following quote is attributed to, a variant was also used by Daniel Defoe prior to Franklin. Franklin's version is the one that we are most familiar with:

"In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes."

Well, this book is not about taxes, and the last time I checked the death rate still averaged about one per person. A curious aspect of the book is that the central figure is never named. The book begins at his funeral, then re-starts with the recollections of Everyman's childhood. The transition is accomplished naturally and smoothly, and is an example of Roth's capable skills as a writer. Oddly enough, there are parallels to my own father in this book. The first is that as a young boy Everyman is hospitalized for a hernia, and next to him is another boy who dies in the middle of the night. This same exact experience happened to my father, where in Minneapolis he was admitted to a hospital (I believe for complications due to asthma) where a young boy in the bed next to him passed away. I think these brushes with death remind us all of how frail and quick life can be.

In my own childhood I had a neighbor kid who I hung out with for a brief time. Oddly enough, I don't remember his name! I suppose forty years of time can do that. Following the method set by Roth, I'll call him Everyboy. Either his family or our family moved, creating the natural rift we all experience when our relational circles change. Word came to me that he had been killed riding his bike, as he was crossing a street a car ran him over. It was an odd moment for me, that I would never ride bikes with him again. Even at that young age (I'm guess I was about 8) I was impacted by death.

Well, so was Everyman. During his childhood he views a dead sailor washed up on the shore being removed by the Coast Guard. Roth then takes us in a jump over time, simply stating without any qualification that 22 years had passed. We journey through Everyman's failed marriages, estrangement from his sons, and both love and envy regarding his brother who exhibited superior health. Through various ailments we hear Everyman's facing his mortality with statements like this:

"...but now eluding death seemed to become the central business of his life and bodily decay his entire story".

After his successful career, he takes up a lifelong passion - being an artist. This is the second parallel to my own father. Dad worked at various jobs his whole life, and now is doing what he has always wanted to do - teaching art to children. Everyman offers painting classes to other members in his retirement community, and befriends a woman who bemoans her loss of vitality and is apologetic for the physical needs she has. He tries to comfort her, but 10 days later she commits suicide with an overdose of pain medication. It is an interesting scene, where the one thing that brings relief to her life is also used as the contributor of her death.

As I read through the book, a dawning thought began to take hold of me - the central figure of this book is not Everyman, it is death and its predecessor, the decline of health as age stalks us all. Although Roth does not invest in anthropomorphic comparisions of death, the theme emerges and is always tied to the thoughts, words and actions of the figures in the book.

I suppose that the two great literary themes are love and death. In the book "The Question of God" by Dr. Armand M. Nicholi Jr. postulates a debate between Sigmund Freud and C.S. Lewis. In it Nicholi asks the age old question:

"How do we resolve and come to terms with what Freud called "the painful riddle of death"? Socrates said "the true philosopher is always pursuing death and dying".

Roth's answer is that as Everyman is being prepped for yet another surgery, under the effect of the anasthetic; he dreams about the vitality of his youth, the treasure of a summer day at the seashore, the perfect priceless planet that earth is and his excitement and longing to enjoy every day. Roth describes how

"He went under feeling far from felled, anything but doomed, eager yet again to be fulfilled, but nonetheless, he never woke up. Cardiac arrest. He was no more, freed from being, entering into nowhere without even knowing it. Just as he'd feared from the start"

The question we ask is this: if we came from nothing, and we end in nothing, why do our lives mean something? In not only the Christian worldview but other religions as well, death is NOT the end of existence. But Roths seems to think so.

GRADE:

1. Literary - A+. Roth communicates his ideas fluidly and cohesively. This is an easy reading book where concepts do not need equivocation.
2. Worldview - F. Roth communicates his ideas fluidly and cohesively. Unfortunately, this is not the worldview that I espouse!
   

Name my Band

I have a recurring fantasy where I'm a rock star. With my long mane of hair whipping around as my fingers move so fast on the stratocaster that Eddie Van Halen would be purple with envy I'd fill arenas all across America. There are some hilarious and creative names for rock groups, my favorite being Rick Digger and the Refried Loquats.

It would be kind of hard though to hold on to my modest values and be a superstar at the same time. Therefore, instead of making people pay to come to my concerts, I'll pay them to come to my concerts! My co-workers would probably be in agreement that that's the only way I'll ever get to sing in public anyway.

I was walking Kadie the wonder dog a few days ago and looking at Christmas decorations. I noticed this big inflatable Santa who had apparently sprung a leak and was sprawled across a roof looking like he had imbibed in a little too much holiday cheer. Suddenly a gust of wind caused one of his legs to move in a lifelike fashion, startling me. Then, Santa moved in a manner that suggested death was imminent and gave me inspiration for the name of my band:

Dave Mundt and the Dead Santas

Are you ready to rock? Coming soon to an arena near you!

The New Atheists and Old Belief Systems - Part 2

Gary Wolf continues his article with a conversation with Sam Harris (you can read part 1 here) :

"As I test out the New Atheist arguments, I realize that the problem with logic is that it doesn't quicken the blood sufficiently -- even my own. But if logic by itself won't do the trick, how about the threat of apocalypse? The apocalyptic argument for atheism is the province of Sam Harris, who released a book two years ago called The End of Faith: Religion Terror, and the Future of Reason."

As Wolf reports, Harris argues that, unless we renounce faith, religious violence will soon bring civilization to an end. This autumn, Harris has a new book out, Letter to a Christian Nation. In it, he demonstrates the behavior he believes atheists should adopt when talking with Christians. "Nonbelievers like myself stand beside you," he writes, addressing his imaginary opponent, "dumbstruck by the Muslim hordes who chant death to whole nations of the living. But we stand dumbstruck by you as well -- by your denial of tangible reality, by the suffering you create in service to your religious myths, and by your attachment to an imaginary God."

Yikes! So I'm in denial of reality, suffering starts with me, and I am subject to my imagination. But you know, I'm really getting into this dialogue. Rather than being threatened I'm challenged in my beliefs and find it strangely refreshing to looking at what I believe through the eyes of someone outside of my "Christian" circle.

Wolf expresses his desire to talk with Harris - about emotion, about politics, about his conviction that the days of civilization are numbered unless we renounce irrational belief. Given the way things are going, I want to know if he is depressed. Is he preparing for the end?

He is not.

"Look at slavery," he says. We are at a beautiful restaurant in Santa Monica, near the public lots from which Americans -- nearly 80 percent of whom believe the Bible is the true word of God, if polls are correct -- walk happily down to the beach in various states of undress. "People used to think," Harris says, "that slavery was morally acceptable. The most intelligent, sophisticated people used to accept that you could kidnap whole families, force them to work for you, and sell their children. That looks ridiculous to us today. We're going to look back and be amazed that we approached this asymptote of destructive capacity while allowing ourselves to be balkanized by fantasy. What seems quixotic is quixotic -- on this side of a radical change. From the other side, you can't believe it didn't happen earlier. At some point, there is going to be enough pressure that it is just going to be too embarrassing to believe in God."

Hey, how can you not like a guy who uses words like asymptote? I'm not sure, but I believe the inference is that theists at the best and Christians at the worst created and condoned slavery. It is interesting that he seems to contradict Dawkins on the intelligence issue, that it was intelligent, nay the MOST intelligent and sophisticated people who supported the practice. Now I won't deny that many horrible things have been done in the name of religion. But some good things have also been done. Regarding the references to slavery above, an appropriate example is William Wilberforce, who after his conversion to Christianity was an effective and eloquent figure against whom slavery suffered a mortal wound.

Wolf and Harris then discuss what it might look like, this world without God. "There would be a religion of reason," Harris says. "We would have realized the rational means to maximize human happiness. We may all agree that we want to have a Sabbath that we take really seriously -- a lot more seriously than most religious people take it. But it would be a rational decision, and it would not be just because it's in the Bible. We would be able to invoke the power of poetry and ritual and silent contemplation and all the variables of happiness so that we could exploit them. Call it prayer, but we would have prayer without bullshit."

Wolf does call it prayer and describes it this way: that our reason will subjugate our superstition, that our intelligence will check our illusions, that we will be able to hold at bay the evil temptation of faith.

What is prayer anyway? To me, there are two constants in prayer that I am aware of that cross religious boundaries. First, we pray to an entity - something that exists. Second, we pray to something that is greater than us - we don't pray to equals. That's why the parody of God represented by the Flying Spaghetti Monster can be proffered.

I'm enlightened by this interview, in that I now know that the religion of atheism is supported by prayer, and that the center of the atheist worldview is nothing less than happiness. Not world peace, not justice, not the elimination of poverty or starvation, but happiness.

It's frightening to realize how much of the seeds of this worldview have been planted and are now taking root. Oh, how naive I was watching the Partridge Family after school every day and singing along with the lyrics, not knowing that the roots of atheism were being planted deep into our culture:

Hello, world, here the song that we're singin',

C'mon get happy!

A whole lot of lovin' is what we'll be bringin'

We'll make you happy!

We had a dream, we'd go travelin' together,

We'd spread a little lovin' then we'd keep movin' on.

Somethin' always happens whenever we're together

We get a happy feelin' when we're singing a song.

Trav'lin' along there's a song that we're singin'

C'mon get happy!

A Whole lot of lovin' is what we'll be bringin'

We'll make you happy!

We'll make you happy!

We'll make you happy!

Please pray for me.

Of cops, donuts and machine guns

My anonymous friend who will remain anonymous is the captain of the police force in an anonymous city here in an anonymous state (OK, Orygun where the willuhmutt river flows freely on it's journey to the Superfund passage).


My friend teaches machine gun tactics and safety. How cool is that? Let's look at the gradution photo of a recent live fire exercise:

Ahh, there's nothing like a man and his machine gun! Please note that the scenario resulting in the carnage (get it? car-nage? ha ha ha) above was a hypothetical hostage situation. The lesson learned from this is: you never, ever want to be taken hostage in Oregon!

There is also an interesting visual in this picture. Police officers are subject to stereotyping, and if I may be so bold to point out (at the risk of a plethora of MP-5s pointed at my posterier) that an abundance of donuts fueled the day of machine gun fun.

Wish I was there.