The Hope of a Jesus Freak

The greatest single cause of atheism in the world today is Christians, who acknowledge Jesus with their lips and walk out the door, and deny Him by their lifestyle. That is what an unbelieving world simply finds unbelievable. (Brennan Manning)

In a fit of nostalgia, I’ve recently been listening to some of the CDs I loved back in Junior High. One of them is Jesus Freak by dc Talk (the above quote appears as a voicover on the fourth song), which I fondly remember belting out at the top of my lungs. Such reminiscences, however, have got me thinking about how my faith has changed since then. I’d like to think that I’m more mature now than I was, but I wonder what that means, and whether it’s really a good thing or not. I know a lot more now – about God, and life, and how the two interact – and in some ways my faith is stronger for having weathered a few storms, but it is also more cautious and understated. There was a time when I was proud to call myself a “Jesus freak,” when I couldn’t imagine any other future than being a missionary; today I’d rather fit in than stand out, and I’ve long since embraced the middle-class lifestyle. I may have been naïve before, but I was passionate, and it’s a shame to have lost that.

I often write about hope and sacrifice (e.g. here, here and here) because I think these are the two primary poles around which human nature turns: Hope is what gets us out of bed in the morning, what gives us direction and urges us forward. Sacrifice is necessary when the road inevitably grows rough. Perhaps that’s why new converts seem so alive, why my younger self could belt out Jesus Freak without embarrassment – they’re filled with indescribable hope, and they’re willing to make almost any sacrifice for its sake (the hysteria surrounding Obama is an ironic reflection of this principle, which isn’t restricted to Christianity). In time, the cares of life crowd that enthusiasm out; we’re less willing to sacrifice, and so we in turn grow a little less hopeful, which makes us still less willing to give up what good we currently have in hope of something better. Pretty soon we’ve become those “Christians” that make the unbelieving world wonder what good our faith is, anyway.

Perhaps that’s why my favorite books and movies are always those that celebrate hope in the midst of despair, stories of ultimate sacrifice and resurrection. I read about Jean Valjean in Les Misérables or watch William Wallace in Braveheart and they remind me what it means to hope; they make me more willing to sacrifice. But sometimes I think those stories are too big for me. I’ve never faced death or imprisonment; I’ve never had to choose between my integrity and my life. I enjoy those stories, but I don’t often live differently because of them. It’s easy to dream of a grand sacrifice that I’m unlikely to ever face, but it’s also easy to ignore the countless smaller sacrifices I face on a daily basis: Turn off the TV and do something nice for my wife, skip that new CD and send the money to those who really need it, give up a Friday evening to help at a soup kitchen. If I’m not even willing to make those sacrifices, what makes me think I’d truly give my life to save another, even if faced with the need?

What’s the good of being a “Jesus freak,” unless you’re actually living your life for others?

Life is More than What's Measurable

Alex's comment about naturalists ignoring what is right before their eyes reminded me of another excellent quote (yes I do like quotes; they remind me that 99% of what I know, I owe to someone else):

Failing the possibility of measuring that which you desire, the lust for measurement may result in measuring something else - and perhaps forgetting the difference - or in ignoring some things because they cannot be measured.

G. Udney Yule, as quoted by Nobel laureate Friedrich Hayek

Is Barack Obama the Messiah?

That's the name of hilarious new blog that has been documenting the over-the-top reactions Obama has been getting lately (HT: Mark Shea). Apparently, this kind of thing has become rather common:

SEATTLE–The Key Arena doors opened just before 11 a.m. and Cynthia Keze was one of the thousands hoping to see Barack Obama.

When she did not get in, she was determined to wait out in the rain just in case she got a glimpse of the man she says has brought her new hope for the future of the United States.

"The rest of us, we were in this huge crowd outside in the rain and he came out in the rain and talked to us," said Keze, her voice still raw from cheering. "I was 10 feet away from him, 10 feet away," she repeated another two times in awe.

"The only time I felt like that was when I saw Pope John Paul II." (cited in The Toronto Star)

And then there's this:

The Image of God

The main reason I reposted yesterday's piece on naturalism and morality was so that I could post its follow-up. Though it builds on the previous one in various ways, this remains one of my all time favorite posts:

I hope I have not been disingenuous. It occurs to me that I have not yet mentioned that the core of the argument I made in my last post (though not its form) is drawn from C.S. Lewis, particularly his books The Abolition of Man, Mere Christianity, and Miracles. I did not hide this intentionally, but since this is my own synthesis, the source simply slipped my mind. That said, I was reading Mere Christianity again this weekend, and one particular line caught me off guard. On page 24 Lewis writes: “If there was a controlling power outside the universe, it could not show itself to us as one of the facts inside the universe – no more than the architect of a house could actually be a wall or staircase or fireplace in that house.” Lewis goes on to make the argument I have been making (that it is the “inside” knowledge we have from the moral law that points to such a controlling power), but that is not what caught my attention.

When I read that line, my first reaction was skeptical. I thought: “Well, sure, the architect couldn’t be a wall, but couldn't he hang his picture on one so that we would all know it was he who built the house? Couldn’t God have hung his portrait somewhere in the universe (somewhere obvious) so that we couldn’t miss him?” Perhaps, I thought, God could have painted his picture across the stars, or written his name across the moon, or something.

Sure, if God’s name really were written across the moon (in what language would it be?), we would probably just conclude that our own alphabet had its origin in that very writing and then dismiss it as a chance occurrence. More problematic would be God’s “portrait” in the stars; for what would God look like, a nice old man? But, obviously, God is not an elderly man; he is not a man at all; he is not even physical but Spirit (if you accept John 4:24). So any such physical likeness would be impossible and misleading. Still, I thought, he could have done something.

And then it hit me like a ton of bricks: God did hang his picture in the universe; indeed, he hung it in the most obvious place of all, on us. We have been debating whether Naturalism is capable of grounding our moral awareness (I also made the same point with regard to rationality in my comments here), and I have concluded that it is not. Our moral awareness that certain things are unequivocally right and wrong points to something beyond the laws of nature; for by it we judge those laws (more specifically, we judge the different ways that the laws of nature interact in the actions of individual human beings). Our moral compass tells us that ultimate reality is in some sense fully good in a way that physical nature itself is not. Therefore, it is we ourselves, and our awareness of the moral law, that is the primary evidence of a something above and behind nature – the primary evidence of God.

We are the picture God hung in the universe to prove that it was he who built it. Put another way, we are the image of God. But that is a startling conclusion, because neither Lewis nor I had even considered Genesis 1 when making this argument. And yet by this entirely different route, one I am sure that the author of Genesis never considered (Naturalists weren’t exactly his primary concern!), we have found ourselves led back to the very same conclusion that he made: that in humanity, male and female, God created something “in his own image” (Genesis 1:27). Our moral and rational awareness are the finishing touches on God’s master project – the universe – and the portrait of himself that God hung to mark it as his own.

Tom Clark and the others at the Center for Naturalism maintain that the acceptance of Naturalism would be good for society because it would remind us that we are not self-made and thus increase our compassion for those less fortunate than ourselves [I address Richard Dawkins' similar claim here]. But this is backwards – if Naturalism is true, our moral awareness is an illusion, and we have no more reason to feel obligated to help those whom nature has not favored than to dispose of them in favor of natural selection. Our moral awareness would be an illusion that does not represent anything real and thus could be ignored at will. But once we realize that we are the image of God, we see that this argument I’ve been making is really not negative at all: an awareness of our true nature is the real basis for the compassionate ethic that both Tom Clark and I desire.

If we are created in the image of God, then obviously we are not “self-made”; but more than that, each and every one of us, no matter what mistakes we have made, possesses an irrevocable dignity. Just as a great piece of art retains its value even as it cracks and fades, so human beings retain their value even if nature has not been kind to them – they are still a beautiful creation of the master craftsman. But unlike Naturalism, which cannot give any real basis to such a sentiment (since we are all accidents), this creational view is realistic: it does not shrug its shoulders at evil behavior but recognizes that there is a real standard of good and evil that is binding on all of us. But it also recognizes that the dividing line is not between “good” and “evil” people but runs straight through each and every one of us.

All of us (even the worst) retain a moral awareness, even if dimmed by misuse, and none of us fully lives it out. In Biblical language: all of us are created in the image of God, and all of us have sinned and fallen short of that glory (Romans 3:23). Thus, we are all in the same position, and none of us, no matter how good we may appear relative to other humans, has any grounds for arrogance or selfishness. Everything we have is a gift, and those who have more are not any more deserving of it than those who have less. Indeed: “from he who is given much, much will be expected” (Luke 12:48).

The true antidote to a judgmental and vindictive attitude is not Naturalism but the Judeo-Christian claim that we are created in the image of God.

The Logical Fallacies of Materialist Morality

This was first posted in April 2005, the Internet Archive retains a copy here, including some important discussion in the comments. This is by no means my favorite post (I include it mainly for the sake of its follow-up), but it does make some important points about Christianity, Naturalism, and the possibility of objective morality:

I’ve got nothing but respect for Tom Clark’s willingness to engage in open debate on the merits of Naturalism in forums like this, which are so obviously hostile to his viewpoint, but his position is simply untenable. In his response to Denyse O’Leary’s brief criticism of the Center for Naturalism, Clark attempts to defend Naturalism’s (or Materialism’s) ability to preserve a full-blooded morality apart from “controversial and unverifiable metaphysical facts about the nature of human action,” apparently not noticing that Naturalism itself fits into that category just as easily as any form of theism. In support, he points to two articles from the aforementioned Center (“Materialism and Morality: The Problem with Pinker” and “The Moral Levitation of David Brooks”) and an external article by Joshua Greene and Jonathan Cohen [Sorry! the article is no longer available – such is the transitory nature of the internet!].

All three articles make approximately the same point, though the first and especially the third in far greater detail than the second. The point he seems to be trying to draw from them is summarized nicely at the end of “The Moral Levitation”: “if we can demonstrate that moral responsibility survives determinism, and moreover requires it, then perhaps the fear-based objections to a naturalistic understanding of ourselves can be overcome” (emphasis original). In other words, his argument is:

1. Materialism implies hard determinism,
2. Hard determinism is consistent with (or even required for) moral responsibility,
3. Therefore, Materialism is consistent with moral responsibility.

Put in this way, it is not hard to see that this argument violates a basic rule of logic known as "Affirming the Consequent." Consider a similar example [note: I regret this example and would prefer to remove it, but the point I draw from it is valid and important to what follows, so I'll retain it.]:

1. Tom Clark is a human being,
2. Humanity is consistent with (or even required for) femininity,
3. Therefore, Tom Clark is a woman.

Both arguments fail for exactly the same reason: just as Tom can be a human being without being a woman, so Materialism can imply hard determinism without being consistent with moral responsibility. Why? Because there is more to being Tom Clark than there is to being human, and there is more to Materialism than just hard determinism. Moreover, hard determinism, even if true, does not require Materialism, for it is also consistent with Supernaturalism (just ask any Calvinist!). Thus, even if it is true that hard determinism is consistent with, or even required by, moral responsibility, it still would not follow that Materialism is consistent with moral responsibility. (And obviously it would do nothing at all to prove whether or not Materialism is actually true; though, to be fair, this is not what Clark is trying to prove at the moment!)

In reality, this entire argument is a red herring. The real argument has nothing to do with free will and determinism but with the possibility of a binding Moral Law, yet neither Clark nor the articles he links even attempt to justify how Naturalism can provide such a thing. They only attempt to show that, given a moral law, hard determinism (unfairly equated with Materialism) does not prevent us from holding those who break it responsible. Yet if Naturalism is true, then it needs to do more than just maintain a morality that has been handed down to it by the traditional religions it has debunked; it needs to provide its own morality without appealing to any supernatural authority.

Clark does not attempt to do this, but the articles he links do imply Naturalism’s only possible response: In “Materialism and Morality” we read: “Our basic, neurally-embodied desires and preferences, bequeathed us by nature and fine-tuned by culture, constitute us as moral creatures; they determine what we hold to be right and wrong” (emphasis original). In other words, our understanding of right and wrong (our “moral compass”) is, like everything else, a product of our environmental and social conditioning, inherited through our genes and society (for a similar conclusion, see the end of Greene and Cohen’s article [again, sorry!]). And truly, no other answer is available to the Naturalist, for Naturalism denies a priori that anything beyond those proximate causes exists---Nature is all there is.

But it should come as no surprise that this description of the origin of morality is identical with his description of what causes immoral behavior: “The killing of a child, for instance, would be no less bad or wrong in a world in which actions were the natural falling out of various circumstances rather than the result of free will.” So, the killer’s actions are “wrong” despite the fact that they are the natural result of his circumstances, and our moral outrage is “right” despite the fact that it is the natural result of our circumstances! But if naturalism is true, then such distinctions are entirely meaningless, for the very definition of Naturalism is that “Nothing about us escapes being included in the physical universe, or escapes being shaped by the various processes---physical, biological, psychological, and social---that science describes,” and if nothing escapes that influence, then all judgments of right and wrong are equally dependent upon our environment and therefore indistinguishable.

Why should my belief that killing a child is “wrong” have any more authority than the killer’s belief that it is acceptable? Unless there is some standard---something above both of us to tell us what we should value (whether we actually do or not)---then we are at an impasse. I can say: “more people agree with me than with you, and if you don’t stop, we will force you to,” but I can’t say: “I’m right and you’re wrong, and therefore I am justified in forcing you to stop.” No human can be justified that their view of right and wrong is itself right or wrong, unless there is something above all humans against which those judgments can be compared. If Naturalism is true, no such thing exists, for nothing exists beyond nature.

The point is simple---either there is a standard of right and wrong that stands above nature and therefore has the right to judge between the different ways that nature is (e.g., the different ways that we are), or there is not. If there is not, as Naturalism unabashedly declares, then all morality is relative; if there is, then Naturalism is false. That is why Naturalism is “inconsistent with morality” (a better way to put it would be “incapable of providing a standard of morality”), and the debate over free will and determinism is a separate issue altogether.

Out with the Old?

The wonderful thing about the Internet is that it is constantly growing and remaking itself. The terrible thing about the Internet is that nothing lasts. Even the best posts quickly slip from the main page and are rarely ever seen again. Worse, entire sites disappear, and take all their content with them. (In fact, I’ve written about this before). That’s why I’ve tried to transfer here a few of the better posts I wrote at Salvo’s blog.

Unfortunately, it seems that the old Crux Project blogs have recently, and without notice, been taken down (Crux was the previous incarnation of Salvo, and where I got my start blogging). Thankfully, the Internet Archive retains a copy of the site, but I don’t know how long that will remain the case (like I said, nothing is certain online). Because I would prefer not to lose all record of the posts I wrote there (ok, some of them, I’d just assume forget!), I’m going to ramp up my habit of reposting them, so bear with me in the coming weeks as I post those I care to save (I wont do them all at once, maybe one every day or two).

Unlike the ones I have already reposted, many of these reflect conversations that were occurring at the time and may seem a bit awkward on their own. Many were supplemented by discussions in the comments, but at least I’ll be able to retain something of what I have written. I may perhaps update and correct the more egregious errors in these posts (and update outdated web-addresses), but not so much as to change their original point. But this is my blog, so I can do what I want, right? ;)

So That Explains US Politics...

"Opposite evils, far from balancing, aggravate each other." - C.S. Lewis, cited by Mark Shea. The quote is from the Afterword to The Pilgrim's Regress and continues:

'The heresies that men leave are hated most'; widespread drunkennes is father of Prohibition and Prohibition of widespread drunkenness. Nature, outraged by one extreme, avenges herself by flying to the other.

N.T. Wright on Heaven

TIME Magazine has a brief but good interview with N.T. Wright on the subject of heaven (HT: Between Two Worlds). The interview is informal, but Wright does a good job correcting some common misconceptions about the biblical understanding of the afterlife. In short, the common belief that we will spend eternity in some disembodied heaven derives more from Greek Platonism than the Bible, which actually anticipates the restoration of this earth. Our hope is not to escape from the physical to the heavenly, but to see the renewal of the physical as it is finally and fully united with the heavenly. Paul describes it like this in Romans 8:19-23:

For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God. For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.

Christian Carnival 210

Christian Carnival 210 is up at Imago Dei, and includes my post on Hope, Sacrifice and Moral Discourse. It also includes several other posts on the same subject, the best of which are:

Frank on Moral Perspectives: Meaning and Free Will.
Jason on Goodness.

Quote - Christian Identity and the Crucified God

Jürgen Moltmann, The Crucified God:

In Christianity the cross is the test of everything which deserves to be called Christian… The Christian life of theologians, churches and human beings is faced more than ever today with a double crisis: the crisis of relevance and the crisis of identity. These two crises are complementary. The more theology and the church attempt to become relevant to the problems of the present day, the more deeply they are drawn into the crisis of their own Christian identity....

Christian identity can be understood only as an act of identification with the crucified Christ, to the extent to which one has accepted that in him God has identified himself with the godless and those abandoned by God, to whom one belongs oneself. [pgs. 7, 19]

Hope, Sacrifice and Moral Discourse

Over at Matt’s blog, Paul Wright (who describes himself as a “weak atheist”) suggests this “ultimate fallback position” on the value of human beings:

Humans are valuable because I say so. If you agree, we'd better convince others of that, work to bring about a society which believes that, and oppose (by force if necessary, as it was in World War II, to use your example) those who want to treat people as things.

Matt himself provides a good response, noting particularly the contradiction inherent in any attempt to “convince” others of a mere preference. If “humans are valuable” only says something about Paul Wright, and nothing about humanity itself, then there is nothing to convince anyone of – they either agree or they don’t. You might as well try and convince them that they "should" adopt your taste in food – maybe they’ll listen and change their minds, maybe they wont, but you can’t say they should do so; your moral system doesn’t allow it.

This is a good point, but I think there is even more at stake in this debate. The difference between Christian and atheistic worldviews does not just influence whether real moral debate is possible, but also how it can be conducted. There is nothing stopping an atheist from adopting the position Paul outlines, and choosing to work with those who happen to agree with him, while (if necessary) fighting against those who do not. But Christianity allows, indeed calls for, something more.

Since it assumes, first that there is a real and ultimate difference between good and evil, and second that deep down everyone knows it, Christianity calls us not just to fight against those who do evil, but to seek their redemption. Philip Yancey’s excellent book The Jesus I Never Knew provides a discussion of the “Beatitudes” (Matthew 5:3-12, cf. also 5:38-45 and Luke 6:20-31), which helps explain what I mean:

Blessed are the peacemakers... Blessed are those who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness.... [Matt. 5:9, 10] The movie Gandhi contains a fine scene in which Gandhi tries to explain his philosophy to the Presbyterian missionary Charlie Andrews. Walking together in a South African city, the two suddenly find their way blocked by young thugs. The Reverend Andrews takes one look at the menacing gangsters and decides to run for it. Gandhi stops him. “Doesn’t the New Testament say if an enemy strikes you on the right cheek you should offer him the left?” [Matt. 5:39] Andrews mumbles that he thought the phrase was used metaphorically. “I’m not so sure,” Gandhi replies. “I suspect he meant you must show courage – be willing to take a blow, several blows, to show you will not strike back nor will you be turned aside. And when you do that it calls on something in human nature, something that makes his hatred decrease and his respect increase. I think Christ grasped that and I have seen it work.”

Years later an American minister, Martin Luther King Jr., studied Gandhi’s tactics and decided to put them into practice in the United States.... As riots broke out in places like Los Angeles, Chicago, and Harlem, King traveled from city to city trying to cool tempers, forcefully reminding demonstrators that moral change is not accomplished through immoral means....

The real goal, King used to say, was not to defeat the white man, but “to awaken a sense of shame within the oppressor and challenge his false sense of superiority.... The end is reconciliation; the end is redemption; the end is the creation of the beloved community.” (pgs. 121-122)

Men like Gandhi and King were willing to put their lives in jeopardy not only to free their own people from injustice, but to do so in a way that also facilitated the repentance and restoration of their oppressors. This kind of moral fortitude is possible only if you believe in a moral order that transcends oppressor and oppressed alike. This kind of sacrifice is possible only if you believe that the state of a person’s soul is infinitely more important than the state of his body. Only then is a person willing to give up their own life in the hope that it might save others – not only the lives of their friends, but perhaps even the souls of their enemies. Yancey continues:

King, like Gandhi before him, died a martyr. After his death, more and more people began adopting the principle of nonviolent protest as a way to demand justice. In the Philippines, after Benigno Aquino's martyrdom, ordinary people brought down a government by gathering in the streets to pray; army tanks rolled to a stop before the kneeling Filipinos as if blocked by an invisible force. Later, in the remarkable year of 1989, in Poland, Hungary, Czechoslovakia, East Germany, Bulgaria, Yugoslavia, Romania, Mongolia, Albania, the Soviet Union, Nepal, and Chili, more than half a billion people threw off the yoke of oppression through nonviolent means. In many of these places, especially the nations of Eastern Europe, the Christian church led the way. Protesters marched through the streets carrying candles, singing hymns, and praying. As in Joshua's day, the walls came tumbling down. (pgs. 122-123)

Why Sports?

The following is a modified version of a post I wrote two years ago at the old Signs of the Times.

Tomorrow is the Super Bowl (yeah, like I needed to remind you!), and I’ve got a confession to make: I’m a sports fanatic. It all began when the Mariners had their miracle season in ’95, coming back from a 13 game deficit to win their first division title, then beating the hated Yankees in the division championship. Then Gonzaga had their own Cinderella season in ’99, rising from obscurity to reach the Elite Eight. Then even the Seahawks reached the Super Bowl in 2005 (good thing they lost or I might have had to find a new underdog to back)! Before long I had become one of those wackos I never understood, spending my weekends watching golf and tennis, checking ESPN.com far more often than I'd like to admit, even watching SportsCenter on occasion.

Yet, for all my enthusiasm, I have a hard time pinpointing exactly what it is about sports that I find so exciting. I mean, my life is filled with blessings – I have a good job, a great church, a wonderful wife and daughter. I’ve never jumped to my feet or pumped my fist in excitement over those things, yet I hardly give it a second thought while watching my favorite teams. Heck, I’m not even that picky – I’ll root for any underdog, in any sport, except maybe Curling. I can even set aside my hatred for all New York sports to root for the Giants tomorrow!

What is it about sports that connects to our emotions so powerfully? Perhaps it’s the skill--we cheer for the athletes at the top of their game because we wish we ourselves were so talented. Perhaps it’s the distraction--sports are just “real” enough to seem important, while just distant enough to provide an escape from the everyday. Or perhaps it’s only our “mirror neurons” playing tricks on us--our brains are wired to pretend we ourselves were performing the great feats we watch.

Probably it’s all of those things, but I wonder if it’s also something more. In cheering on our favorite teams, we aren’t just living vicariously; we are turning our attention away from ourselves. As spectators, it is always someone else we are cheering for, someone else we are excited for. Thus, whatever it is that draws us to cheer, we find that in doing so we become a little less selfish, a little less self-focused. And the same seems to be true of the athletes themselves--victory is always sweeter when it’s “for the team” (or the Gipper) than it is when it’s just for yourself.

In sports, then, our emotions are freed to reach their maximum because they are freed from the self. In a society that is so often focused on the autonomous individual, sports give us a glimpse (however small) of transcendence. Our emotions can run wild and free precisely because here, as in too few other places, they are focused outward. Perhaps our love for sports actually offers us a glimpse into our fundamental nature: we are made to live for each other.

Book Meme

Charlie tagged me with the Book Meme that's been going around:

• Pick up the nearest book (of at least 123 pages).
• Open the book to page 123.
• Find the fifth sentence.
• Post the next three sentences.
• Tag five people.

He says he chose five bloggers "who always have interesting books within reach," but I'm sorry to disappoint. He caught me sitting on the couch with my two year old daughter, and the closest book happens to be the one she is reading--ok not reading, pointing at the pictures and saying "boy," "there," "this" (the last of which sounds like "dis," apparently she doesn't think much of the boy ;).

The book is The Indispensable Calvin and Hobbes, and pg. 123 includes three comics. Replacing "sentences" with "text-boxes," the sixth one begins the second comic, but I wont be mean enough to give only the first three lines! Here is the whole thing (uncommonly, this one works without the pictures, and is curiously applicable):

Dad: 'Once upon a time there was....'
Calvin: Hold it.
Dad: What's the matter?
Calvin: Has this book been a best seller? Has the author won a Pulitzer? Did the New York Times like it? I only want stories that come highly recommended. Are there any laudatory quotes on the dust jacket?
Dad: Ahem... 'Once upon a time there was a noisy kid going to bed without a story.'
Calvin: Has this book been made into a movie? Could we be watching this on video?

If you want a more serious response, I've previously answered this meme here. I tag:

Matt: Raskolnikov, Lost in the Cosmos
Alex: Abandon All Fear
Carmen: In the Open Space: God & Culture
Henry: Threads from Henry's Web
James: Exploring Our Matrix

Swear No Oaths?

I've never known what to make of Matthew 5:33-37, in which Jesus forbids the taking of oaths. Frankly, I've never made any attempt to follow it literally, nor am I willing to give up my US citizenship to do so (mea cupla?). Given the generally hyperbolic nature of the Sermon on the Mount, I've been content to take it as a warning rather than a command.

That said, I do understand the danger of rash oaths and the importance of standing by your word. Because of this, I'm faced with a quandary. My state's constitution was recently changed so that voting in the Presidential primary requires you to sign an oath to either the Democratic or Republican party. According to the ballot, your vote is invalid unless you mark either "I declare that I consider myself to be a DEMOCRAT and I will not participate in the nomination process of any other political party for the 2008 Presidential election" or "I declare that I am a member of the Republican Party and have not participated and will not participate in the 2008 precinct caucus or convention system of any other party."

Now I don't consider myself a Democrat or a Republican, nor am I absolutely certain that I will vote the same way in the general election as I would now--it all depends on who become the nominees! I do, however, know who I want to vote for in the primary (sorry, I wont say who), so do I swollow my pride (and independence, and perhaps honesty) and check the party to which they belong, or am I barred from voting? Am I crazy, or have they really made it illegal for an Independent to vote honestly?

I realize this is not the end of the world--at least we have free elections at all, right?--but it really bothers me. Has anyone else struggled with this?

Love, the "Scientific" Way

Thanks to TiVo (and grad school), I don’t see many commercials anymore, but the ones for online dating services always stick out. Have you seen Chemistry.com’s ads claiming: “we don’t know why eHarmony has rejected over a million people… at Chemistry.com you can come as you are” (e.g. here and here). When my wife first saw that she laughed and responded: “Come to Chemistry.com and date the rejects!” eHarmony’s own ads seem better--cute couples raving about love at first sight, how they felt like they had known each other forever, blah blah blah, hearts and flowers, all thanks to eHarmony! It was cute the first time, but two years later when they are still showing the same couples, you start to wonder: are these the exceptions or the rule?

According to this article in the New York Times (HT: Boundless Line), no one really knows. Though all of the major online dating services claim to be applying “scientific” expertise, none of their claims or methods have been verified by peer review (that is, by science). Having never used such a site (I got married the old fashioned way) I wont presume to judge them, but this does raise red flags. No doubt these services work for some people, and I’m sure they would say the fee was well worth it, but what about the rest? More to the point, it seems likely that whatever success these sites do have, has less to do with "scientific" methodology, and more to do with the fact that they bring together people actively seeking love. But that's just my opinion; I have have no "science" to back it up. I wont rule out that such services (and even algorithms) can find matches that would otherwise be missed, but in the end love can never be reduced to an equation. Finding a match is one thing, but building and maintaining real love (not just infatuation) is all about one's choices--to put the other first, to listen to them, to keep your eyes to yourself, etc.--and no algorithm can make those for you.

Maybe that's why those sappy commercials promising "everlasting love" always make me thankful for my TiVo, and even more for my wife!