Musings on my faith going into Holy Week 1/n

As I stand on the precipice of entering Holy Week, the holiest, most important time of the year for Christians that the rest of the world kind of (mercifully) ignores because it has only managed to co-opt the Easter Egg and candy part of things, which is literally the least important part, I have been reflecting, as I ought, on what my faith means. A kind of all compassing musing on what it is I believe, why I bother to believe it, and going all the way to "What do I call myself, since 'Christian Scientist' is something other than what I am?" I'm going to try to write as much of it as I can on this blog, because I feel it is important, but being musings I can't promise they will be thesis like. They may ramble a bit. Some may be long and some may be short. If you come here for physics posts, sorry not sorry for the theological interlude.

Holy Week, particularly in the liturgical tradition, throws sharp relief on a lot of doctrinal points that Christians tend to go 'yeah, yeah I know' at and non-Christians think we are crazy for believing. It can also bring up, if you run in the right circles, friendly debates about atonement vs. redemption theology, the sufficiency of Christ's sacrifice, and even the purpose of baptism, getting into the paedobaptism vs. believer baptism debate. The practice of Holy Week is designed to remind us, in case Lent did not, that we are broken, and that Christ died to heal that brokenness, and rose again to usher in the coming of wholeness.

That we are broken is something of which I have no doubt. I don't see how anyone can disagree with it. As my father observed, "The doctrine of total depravity has never lacked for outside proof"[ETA: This is apparently a quotation from G.K. Chesterton]. That Christ died to heal that brokenness I also have no doubt, though this is where a lot of the people I know think I've jumped the shark, so to speak. A fair number of my peers (and superiors and inferiors, I have no doubt) think that my faith is odd, nutty, a bit of a relic or even 'something [I'll] outgrow'. I have no problem with the ones who think the first two, I can understand, though not agree with the third and the  fourth I find unbearably patronizing, but that is neither here nor there. Christianity *is* weird. And a lot of humans have horribly twisted it and corrupted it and I desperately wish we could make those corruptions a thing of the past, though there is something to be said for the devil you know.

So let's get something out of the way before I get any father into recording my theological thoughts. Just make this the first post.

My faith is not just a comfort in bad time (though it is that), or a I'll-go-someplace-nice-when-I-die wishful thinking, or a philosophy, or a way to connect with a larger community. It is in a very real sense *everything* to me. It defines the universe, my place in the universe, the purpose of the universe and myself; it defines my relationship to God, between myself and my family, between myself and my husband, between myself and every human I will ever encounter; it determines my responsibilities to this world, and everyone and everything in it; it is the entire framework on which my life is built. If you striped everything else away, my faith remains.

"How can you be a scientist and a Christian?" is a question I have heard a (frankly) irritating number of times. From both directions, actually. Scientists who are atheists look askew at my ability to trust science if I also believe in a man-god, and Christians with whom I have strong doctrinal disagreements don't trust my soul to be saved if I think we came from monkeys. The question makes as much sense to me as "how can you be a scientist if you are a woman?". If I really believe that God created the universe, and he created us, how can I *not* believe that this universe would be designed in such a way that we, striving to understand it as we follow our natural, God-given curiosity and using the minds He gave us, could understand? How could I not jump at the opportunity to study a master-craftsman's work? If you think I'm crazy for believing in a Creator, or for believing in a Triune God, or a Savior or whatever particulars of my doctrine baffle you  to the extent you doubt my science, you are welcome to check my math. If you think I'm going to Hell because  when the math and science say the universe is 14 billion give-or-take years old, I trust that it's right,  please point me to the passage in the New Testament where this is named as a salvific issue. I'll wait.

That I am a scientist is not a stumbling block to my faith, and  my faith is not a stumbling block to my science. Though I wont go quite so far as Kepler to say that math is the language of God, or even as far as the Belgic confession in favor of natural theology, I will say with the psalmist that the "heavens declare the glory of the LORD" and with Maltbie D. Babcock that "This is my Father's world".

Publishing Research and other stuff

So I know the next installment of Basic Physics is several weeks overdue, but there has been so much going on I haven't had time to do it justice. So here's a post on what's been going on!

Firstly, my first paper got accepted for publication! This is a research project that I had been fighting for well over a year, and the results were/are really cool. It's also my first first author paper, which is a really big deal in the sciences (at least my branch of the sciences). I don't know of an equivalent outside of research circles.

I'm working on new but related research projects, which will hopefully bear fruit soon.

DH got a job in a city that is just far enough away to make commuting 5 days a week untenable, so we are slowly transitioning our lives to an apartment in new city, with me getting the house ready to rent out in our old city. So, ya know, that's a bit time and energy consuming.

I'm teaching half time this semester, which is great, but eats my Thursdays between prep and teaching and seminar and teaching and then eats a couple hours not on Thursdays for grading and getting lesson plans and weekly tests ready for myself and the other two TAs to use.

I have to write and present and get approved a prospectus/research plan by the end of the semester or get kicked out. It is the vaguest most important piece of writing I have to do to date.

I'm also attending the Frontiers in Optics conference in October! Which is going to be fantastic and exhausting and in Arizona! It's also forcing me to actually get some more 'professional' looking clothes, which for me basically means I didn't make them and/or I couldn't rake leaves in them. I am not going to be removing my earrings unless my advisor specifically says otherwise though. They are a part of me, and besides my hair provides decent camouflage.

I also seem to be morphing into a high classical-christianity Anglican instead of a good Calvinist-Presbyterian, and I have to write a separate post on that.

So you can see, there is A LOT going on my life right now, so if the postings are a bit thin on the ground, hopefully you can forgive me.

Cheers!

What 3 years of marriage has taught me

This week my husband and I celebrated our 3rd wedding anniversary. I made a pull-out-all-the-stops dinner, and we drank champagne from our good crystal. And then we happily collapsed in our chairs to watch TV together, because life has presented us with a wonderful opportunity that will mean a good bit of change in our near future, all for the better but nonetheless exhausting.

It also lead to me to reflect on what a strange state marriage is. I would choose to marry my husband over and over again if given the choice, because for all the little ways he can annoy or infuriate me, I can't imagine sharing my life with anyone else. We are two very stubborn, argumentative people. We courted for 4 months by walking around campus and debating everything under the sun. Though I don't believe in soulmates, his existence and the fact that we, improbably, found each other is almost enough to convince me. He's a friend, a partner, a confidant and whetting stone. We've worn down the rough edges on each other, without wearing each other out.

Part of making marriage work , I've realized, is recognizing the importance of the day to day things. He makes sure to call me when he leaves work so I can time dinner correctly. I make sure to do laundry frequently so he is never out of socks. I  keep the kitchen clean and stocked, and he keeps the bathrooms clean and stocked. Grand romantic gestures are nice, but so is not having to do that chore you hate. Waking up on a Saturday morning to the sound of the bathrooms being cleaned is one of the best gifts my husband can give me.

Three years isn't long in the grand scheme of things. But having now spent 12.5% of my life married to the man whom I impressed by arguing him into silence in Philosophy 101, and who impressed me swing dancing, I hope to spend 100% of whatever years remain to me, married to him.

"Seven Stanzas at Easter" by John Updike

Ever now and then, a poem speaks to you. That's how I felt the first time I encountered John Updikes poem "Seven Stanzas at Easter". It's not my usual style of poetry; I tend to go for same number of syllables per line, rhyming, more Shakespeare and Donne than modern. But this hit home. 

Make no mistake: if he rose at all
It was as His body;
If the cell’s dissolution did not reverse, the molecule reknit,
The amino acids rekindle,
The Church will fall. 

It was not as the flowers,
Each soft spring recurrent;
It was not as His Spirit in the mouths and fuddled eyes of the
Eleven apostles;
It was as His flesh; ours. 

The same hinged thumbs and toes
The same valved heart
That—pierced—died, withered, paused, and then regathered
Out of enduring Might
New strength to enclose. 

Let us not mock God with metaphor,
Analogy, sidestepping, transcendence,
Making of the event a parable, a sign painted in the faded
Credulity of earlier ages:
Let us walk through the door. 

The stone is rolled back, not papier-mache,
Not a stone in a story,
But the vast rock of materiality that in the slow grinding of
Time will eclipse for each of us
The wide light of day. 

And if we have an angel at the tomb,
Make it a real angel,
Weighty with Max Planck’s quanta, vivid with hair, opaque in
The dawn light, robed in real linen
Spun on a definite loom. 

Let us not seek to make it less monstrous,
For our own convenience, our own sense of beauty,
Lest, awakened in one unthinkable hour, we are embarrassed
By the miracle,
And crushed by remonstrance.
-John Updike

What we believe is not reasonable. It is not polite, it is not pleasant. It is monstrous. But unless we believe the fullness of the monstrosity, that Christ rose with the same body, though transformed, that he died, the miracle is meaningless. If it was anything less than a weighty stone, a real angel, a real chemical body, it's just a story. A weird parable of an old religion. But if its true, then we have to admit to ourselves that God has no interest in playing to our convenience when our salvation is at stake.

This poem challenged me many years ago to face what I was confessing. Choose the physical, risen Christ of the empty tomb, or a metaphor that would make me seem a little less crazy.

I chose the former.

Happy Easter.

Easter Preparations

Holy Saturday has always been a kind of prep-day for me. Growing up, there was church decorating and food to be made and choir folders to organize. And that hasn't really changed now that I've grown up and married and established a household of my own, minus the church prep and add some house cleaning.

Saturday is our usual house-cleaning day anyway. Things like dishes and laundry get done as needed during the week, besides the obvious post-cooking counter cleaning. But Saturday morning is cleaning time. Dear Husband cleans the bathrooms while I make breakfast. I sweep the floors and clear away any clutter that has accumulated during the week. Any outdoor cleaning that needs to be done gets done then. Vacuuming gets done if the vacuum cleaner cooperates.

Today we did CLEANING. Dust the baseboards, scrub all the floors cleaning. The house smells like lavender and almonds.

And of course I did food preparing for tomorrow. For one, I made sure I had everything. I got a leg of lamb roast to cook for dinner, which requires nothing more than salt, pepper and some rosemary before I throw it in the oven tomorrow. The potatoes and asparagus can't really be prepped today, but they don't take much time anyway. I made deviled eggs, which are a must in my book and my only regret is that I didn't have enough forethought to make them earlier in the week and partially pickled them in pickled beet juice, which turns then a pretty purple-y pink.

The one at 11 o'clock had an abnormally large air pocket.

I even figured out how to do that cool swirly rosette thing with a piping bag!

I also finished the lamb cake. What is a lamb cake, you ask? It is a cake baked in a mold that looks like a lamb. If you are an excellent cake-pan preparer you could probably dust it with powdered sugar and serve right from the pan. But, I am not an excellent cake pan prepper, and my family traditionally has it covered with coconut icing, which is a tradition I am happy to continue.

This cake goaded me last year to learn the art of the 'crumb coat'. Instead of trying to ice it perfectly in one go, you use a thin layer of icing to stick down any crumbs (and hold on any ears that may or may not have been a little stuck to the pan), let that dry for a few minutes, and then finish icing with a thicker layer that gets to be all pretty and even and crumb-free. As a finishing touch, I coated it with coconut using the old press-and-stick method. The eyes, nose and impertinent tongue are jelly beans, and the grass is coconut tossed with some green food coloring. I serve it with strawberries, which is delicious but my sister calls 'macabre'.

Now, other than quiet contemplation, I am ready for Easter.

Have a blessed Paschal Triduum!

Meditations on Holy Week

Warning: slightly rambling

Most people who didn't grow up in the church assume that Christmas is the biggest holiday for Christians. It's certainly the most visible and drawn out, the most easily co-opted and inviting of all our holidays (and we have a lot). It's warm and fuzzy and bright at the darkest time of year. The gift portion is certainly attractive to pretty much everyone. And it looks like our name! that's convenient.

But the reality is the Christmas is, at best, the second most important holiday. Holy Week and Easter, collectively known as Passiontide, is our most important holiday. Christmas is joyous, of course, but it's a prelude, and one that is theologically tempered. If you read through the texts of Christmas hymns and carols, you'll find that some of the less-popular-on-the-radio-station verses are rather bleak (some more modern, cheerful hymnals even leave them out). Take, for example, the second verse of "What Child is this?"

Why lies he in such mean estate
where ox and ass are feeding?
Good Christians, fear: for sinners here
the silent Word is pleading.
Nails, spear shall pierce him through,
the cross be borne for me, for you;
hail, hail the Word made flesh,
the babe, the son of Mary.

The whole point of Christmas, the arrival of God-made-flesh, is so that Good Friday may take place. Good Friday is rarely a service that draws in people from the outside, even though it is as well advertised with lawn signs. Who in their right mind wants to go sit in a darkened, quiet church and contemplate on their sins, the agony of death on the cross, and the [seeming] finality of death?

Growing up, I would say that Holy Week was one of the biggest weeks of the year (I was still a kid). Partly because I grew up the child of the church organist and the person in charge of decorating the church so I was there nearly everyday starting the day before Palm Sunday to strip the palms all the way through Easter. But also because it is a compelling narrative that the Church has been telling for centuries. During Holy Week we don't just read the accounts. We re-enact them to a greater or lesser extent.

On Palm Sunday the congregation plays the part of the crowd that welcomed Jesus into Jerusalem. We cry "Hosanna!" and sing hymns set to triumphal, often marching tunes. We wave palms and the organ plays at full blast.

But we know what is coming. Monday through Wednesday are spent in solitary preparation. There might be quiet preparations for Easter morning, but they are typically kept quiet.

Maundy Thursday exhibits the greatest variation I've seen among Churches. It commemorates the last meal Jesus had with his disciples before he was arrested and condemned to death, which became for Christians the sacrament of Communion. For some its a meditative service, with quiet hymns, prayer, perhaps a short homily, and of course communion. Others include 'maundy' or the rite of foot washing, something else Jesus gave to his disciples as a ritual that got lost (probably as it moved north where socks and boots were the norm instead of sandals). The services are beautiful, but also introspective. This is not to say that visitors aren't welcomed, but for many Christians these services are deeply personal.

Good Friday is a hard day. It's a holiday, in the sense that it is holy and in the sense that most people don't have to go to work on it, but it is also hard. Hard to explain to anyone who hasn't experienced it in its full, raw power and hard to go through. Whether its the stations of the cross, mentally walking with Jesus to his death, or Tenebrae going through the entire passion narrative with the congregation playing the part of the crowd who cries "Crucify!", it is a strange day that we put ourselves through. We meditate on the idea that we killed God, that the second person of the Trinity willingly walked into Death, paying the price our sinfulness, our brokenness, so we never have to. We leave the church in silence and darkness, the Bible closed, a single candle burning on the altar.

Holy Saturday is the quietest day in the church. Everyone who has to go in to make preparations for Sunday whispers. You try to walk quietly. The lights stay dim. Even though we all know what happened that first Easter, that Jesus isn't in that tomb again, we are still quiet, as though we mourn with the apostles.

Easter sunrise services are the most joyful thing I know of, whatever the variation. The one I can describe best is the one I grew up with. You enter the church in darkness and silence, praying and waiting. The pastor comes in through a door by the altar, and proclaims "Why do you look for the living among the dead? I tell you he is not here. He is risen!" and the lights go up and the organ roars to life in one of the many Easter Hymns. The litany of "He is risen!" "He is risen indeed, Alleluia!" tumbles from everyone's lips. Our sin may have been atoned for on Good Friday, but the empty tomb gives us hope and therefore joy.

Does all this sound insane? Sure. There's a reason St. Paul wrote that the message of the cross was foolishness in the eyes of the world (I Corinthians 1:18)--it is. Most self-aware Christians know this. We know we sound crazy. (We also know some of our traditions are good theatre). And we're ok with that. We can give reasons and offer some sort of explanation. But at the core, we know its not rational. We don't believe because of a Pascal's wager. We believe because, at some point, we've had a moment at the well, an encounter in the garden, whether subtle or bolt out of the blue or anywhere in between. And we believe.

Hellfire Preachers and Snarky Scientists

Every science blogger, tweeter (Twitterer?), and opinionator has been talking about the "Cosmos" reboot in the past couple of weeks. I've withheld comment because I was trying to sort through my feelings on it.

On the one hand, it is obviously well done. Tyson is a good science communicator and the special effects are marvelous.

I have two problems: the history sections, and the science community's gloating.

Dr. Tyson is no idiot. The science, as far as I can tell, is rock solid. Their history, where it isn't outright wrong, is highly deceptive. Tyson tries to soften it with small disclaimers, but a soft spoken phrase is hardly enough to dispel Seth MacFarlane's potent animation, which weirdly makes me think of Sunday School felt characters.

If it were just a conversation with scientists, I'd let it slide. But "Cosmos" is being set forth, and was designed as judging by the scripting, as a kind of science evangelism tool. Which I applaud. But it seriously undermines the credibility of the science message when the creators can't seem to be trusted to confer with a historian when writing the history of science. By distorting the most easily checked part of their program, it makes it far too easy for anyone already skeptical of its message to dismiss the rest, even if the rest is actually solid. It's a lot easier to check up on history than to check up on the science. If they couldn't do that right, they should have left it out, whether or not it was in Sagan's original.

The other thing is really getting my goat is the crowing going on in the public face of science, Twitter and blogs. A hashtag I've seen a little too much of is #CreationScience  and it's ilk.

I have a foot in both worlds. I am a faithful Christian who absolutely believes every word in the Apostle's Creed. I take seriously the Great Commision, even if I am particularly terrible at it. I am also a scientist. I think the universe began with the Big Bang, that life evolved on earth (and possibly elsewhere), that dinosaurs walked the earth long before humans and that geologists are perfectly right in the age estimates of the earth. Whenever I can, I try to correct people's misconceptions and make the case for SCIENCE.

So, dear fellow scientists, I say this with love as a sister in Science--who do you think you are going to win over by mockery?

You know that street corner preacher who yells at people who pass by that they are going to burn in Hell, with colorful descriptions of specific tortures? You know how annoying it is to run across these people? Has a single human being not already inclined to the preacher's theology ever repented and converted because they were yelled at?

Fellow scientists, you are that preacher. Every time you make a snarky comment about "Creationists" or "fundamentalists", you are just passing around a mean joke with your own clic. You want to know why 'they' are distrustful of science? Because this is what they see when they go on your twitter page, your blog, your facebook. They see sarcasm and mockery.

I am a old-earth-creationist/theist evolutionist who technically agrees with you and I feel hurt when I read those comments. Should I have a thicker skin? Sure. But making comments like that cuts deep, especially when coming from what I feel is 'my' community.

Do you think you are going to win over anyone by doing this? People on the fence are not likely to tilt to your side because you insulted them, and people who distrust you are going to run.

No one has changed their mind because they were insulted into it. Very rarely on anything that matters may they be discussed into it.

People are loved into change.

This is not likely to be a popular sentiment among you, my dispassionate brethren. You pride yourselves on logic and reason. But you are also deeply, deeply passionate about your research, your area of expertise, your hobbies. You are wonderful, caring people in real life. I rarely, in talking with you, am faced with the same vitriol that I find from you online.

Social media is a powerful tool. We could be using "Cosmos" to be reaching people who will never again set foot inside a science classroom. But if what they see coming from scientists is hatred, why would they want to change their views? Why would they want to associate themselves with you?

Don't be the annoying hellfire street corner preachers of science

Shrove Tuesday

Today is Shrove Tuesday. You may know it better as Mardi Gras, or "Fat Tuesday". It marks the last day in the season after Epiphany and the last day before the season of Lent. For people who are not Christian, or who do not observe the liturgical year, it's excuse to party on a Tuesday, or party all week long depending on where you live.

If you are liturgical and you do observe Lent in an actual time of reflection and repentance kind of way, not just in the I-can't-eat-this-today kind of way, Shrove Tuesday is a day to prepare both spiritually and potentially physically for Lent. The 'shrove' part of the name comes from the fact that people used to do a pre-Lent confession as part of their preparations.

For me this involved getting rid of or hiding a lot of the sweets in my house, and putting all the alcohol away. Our assistant Rector has inviting the parish to join in a kind of fast this Lent, focusing on our relationship to food and how it can help or hurt our relationship to others and to God.  The idea is to eat simply, rather than focusing on giving up specific things for specific days or trying to not eat at all.

My relationship to food is complicated. It's a hobby, a necessity, an indulgence, a comfort, a source of pride and a means of love. I'm going to be trying to use this Lent to try and weed out some of my more selfish motives around food, and try to refocus on the ways God provides for me, and on using my skills to benefit others, not just myself.

If you are planning on observing some sort of fast this Lent, whether of food, entertainment or something else, I hope it helps you draw closer to our Lord and Savior. If not, enjoy all the extra ice cream.

The Word became Flesh

This Christmas season, as is appropriate, I have been meditating on the wondrousness that is the Incarnation. And the more I think about it, the more amazing it is. That God, the Creator of the universe, would care for his rebellious children, who actively destroy themselves, each other and the creation they were made stewards of on a regular basis, and care for the so much that he left Heaven, that He sent His Word, which is Himself, to the creation, to become a part of that creation by being born into that creation by a creature that he made, to live as one of those creatures and then to be killed.

This is love beyond comprehension. The all-knowing, all-powerful Creative Word bound himself to mortal, sinful flesh. He let Himself be bound in space and time, who made space and time, to a single cell, that grew into a bundle of cells, which attached itself to the flesh of a woman, and grew to be a tiny, fragile, powerless baby. The Word that separated the light from the darkness, who called forth creation from the depths of chaos, who breathed life into humanity, bound himself to 8 pounds of water and protein and bone and fat that could neither move nor speak.

Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good morning!

I never learned to be a proper adult in the matter of not waking up before dawn on Christmas. I hope I never lose that excitement.

I also get to see the presents and stockings before they are destroyed.  My dear husband, brother-in-law and friend from college put out most of the presents last night after I went to bed, so I came down to presents under the tree where before there had been none. It was wonderful. 

Now I am getting breakfast in the oven, and getting ready to awaken everyone else with Handel's "Messiah". Traditionally I should use Bach's "Christmas Oratorio" but I can't locate my cd of it. 

Later, we will eat roast goose and stuffing and plum pudding. Yes, really. 

Merry Christmas!

~AMPH

Advent: Remembrance and Preparation

This past month has been the season of Advent. I had been planning on doing a whole series of posts on Advent, but I found myself far more contemplative this year, and wasn't sure how to put a of lot of my contemplations into words. But now that we are coming into the last few days, I thought it was as good a time to share as any.

Every year, liturgical Christians observe the season of Advent, which is a time of prayer, preparation, and remembrance before Christmas. We remember the longing of the people of Israel waiting for God to send them the Messiah. We also look forward to the second coming of Christ, when he comes again in glory. As we read scripture and prayer and make preparations for Christmas, we remember that we should also always be preparing for when Christ comes again. He came the first time in weakness, to redeem the world from the power of sin and death. When He comes again, he will come in power to reclaim His own, and rule the peaceable kingdom.

The hymn "O Come, o come Emmanuel" has always resonated with me. It is one of the older surviving hymns, sung to an antiphonal melody. It is based around the prophecies in Isaiah, and the longing of God's people for a Savior. I think it resonates because the prophecies are now half-fulfilled. The Son of God has appeared. He has given us victory over the grave. He has shown us the path we should follow.  But we are still waiting for Him to fling wide heaven's gates and close Hell's forever. For Him to disperse death's shadow, so it is no more. We are still waiting for the new Heaven and new Earth. But we wait in faith, sure that in our flesh, we shall see those prophecies fulfilled.

O come, O come, Emmanuel,

and ransom captive Israel

that mourns in lonely exile here

until the Son of God appear.

R: Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel

shall come to thee, O Israel!

O come, Thou Wisdom, from on high,

and order all things far and nigh;

to us the path of knowledge show,

and teach us in her ways to go. R.

O come, O come, Thou Lord of might,

who to Thy tribes on Sinai's height

in ancient times did give the law

in cloud and majesty and awe. R.

O come, Thou Rod of Jesse's stem,

from ev'ry foe deliver them

that trust Thy mighty power to save,

and give them vict'ry o'er the grave. R.

O come, Thou Key of David, come

and open wide our heav'nly home;

make safe the way that leads on high

that we no more have cause to sigh. R.

O come, Thou Dayspring from on high,

and cheer us by thy drawing nigh;

disperse the gloomy clouds of night

and death's dark shadow put to flight. R.

O come, Desire of the nations, bind

in one the hearts of all mankind;

bid every strife and quarrel cease

and fill the world with heaven's peace. R.

Christ the King Sunday Mediation

Today is Christ the King Sunday, which is the last Sunday in the liturgical year for Christians who keep the liturgical calendar (some denominations ignore everything except Christmas, Easter and Pentecost).

This is the Sunday where we celebrate something that, in some sense, has not happened yet. Christ has triumphed over the grave, he has ascended into heaven, the gates of death and hell are broken, but we still live in a sinful world. The Kingdom of Heaven may have  broken in on the world, but we are not yet living in the new Heaven and new Earth.

Christ the King Sunday looks forward to the day that we are living in the new Heaven and the new Earth. The time when God shall dwell among us once again, when the lion shall lie down with the lamb, when the swords shall be beaten into plowshares and the faithful live in the City of God.

The life of a Christian can feel as futile as raking leaves in the fall. No matter how hard you try, you know you are always going to sin. You are never going to feed everyone. You can never bring everyone to Christ. You can never live up to your own expectations, let alone the expectations of God.

This Sunday reminds us of our goal. We are running a race, and this reminds us of the finish line. It's out there, and it will be wonderful. No more sickness, no more death, no more tears. It lets us end our year on a high note, and then we slide gently back into the hope and expectation of Advent.

~PhysicsGal

Setting the Table

I've been putting off posting this for a while. I've been putting off even writing it, because I feel unqualified to offer an opinion. A small side effect of grad school I suppose.

But I feel compelled to write this. God has put this on my heart and I can't shake it.

When did the church forget our calling? When did we decide it was ok to become dictators to/slaves of social norms? When did we stop being a church of outcasts and forgiven sinners, and become the church of the middle class and 'good' people? When did we decide that we were going to ignore our call to 'the least of these', the tax collectors, the prostitutes, the criminals and the untouchables? When did we decide that we were better than everyone else and could act so high and mighty?

I know there are lots of churches who run soup kitchens, homeless shelters, prison ministries. And these are good ministries which deserve to be applauded. They are doing good work.

But if a pregnant teenager walked into your church, would she be greeted the same way you would greet a family of 4? Would the homeless man in the dirty coat be offered a cup of coffee just like the guy in the $1000 suit? Do you tell your child to stand by the gay child at school, or do you tell him to stay away?

When did we forget that we are the same as them, except that we know we have been forgiven solely by the grace of God? Is the blood of Christ sufficient only for our lying, cheating, hating, murdering, lusting, idolatrous soul, but not theirs?

If you are yelling at anyone but other believers who have defiled the church, you are not demonstrating Christ's love to the world. Who does Jesus get angry at? The Jews who turned the temple into a market. Who does Jesus show compassion to? All the sinners the 'good' people hated. He protects an adulterous woman from being stoned. Just talks to the woman living with a man who is not her husband, and offers eternal life. Eats with the tax collectors and prostitutes.

If you say that you would never do something so horrible as that, whatever sin you find particularly abhorrent, remember that in the eyes of God, a sin is a sin. Full stop. No nice gradation. Hating someone is the same magnitude as killing them. Looking at someone with lust is the same as fornication. Every day, in word, thought and deed, we sin and fall short of the glory of God. Why should I be acceptable for only lusting, and the pregnant teenager be reviled for actually fornicating? Only because we can see her sin. Secret sins are ok, so long as we keep them secret. But that is an entirely human perspective, not one of God. God sees everything, and my sin is just as deadly as her's. But Christ's blood is sufficient for me, and it is sufficient for anyone else. The quality of mercy is not strained.

The church needs to stop yelling, and start setting the table. The first literally, the latter both literally and figuratively. We need to stop turning our backs on the people who have the most claim on us, for Christ's sake. We need to offer comfort, protection and love. Not hatred and signs and things to throw. What if instead of screaming at women going to abortion clinics, we offered a coffee, a listening ear, a different path?  Defended the teenager being bullied, for whatever reason? Stopped the drunks behind the bar from beating up a guy who looks different? Gave as much to Salvation Army to help save people and get them back on their feet as we did Starbucks for a cup of over roasted coffee with over priced milk and sugar?

What if we learned to eat with the tax collectors and prostitutes?

I think it would look a lot more the like the wedding feast of the Lamb than we like to admit.

Pride, Humility and Shame

The problem of Christians and shame has been on my mind for a while now. I would say its always been there in the back of my mind, but I really started contemplating it seriously after hearing an excellent sermon from my old pastor when I was visiting my parents last spring. He argued that one of the gifts that we receive when we place our trust in Christ is freedom from guilt and shame. The ultimate price has been paid. Every sinful thing we have ever done has been blotted out in the blood of Jesus. Therefore, we do not need to feel shame, and he urged us to embrace this freedom both for ourselves and for those we meet as part of showing them the love of Christ.

Which got me thinking. What is this source of shame? A lot of people would say its societal. That whole socio-evolutionary view that we developed shame to keep people in line. I've had more than a few people tell me that Christians have done more to instill a sense of shame than anyone else, citing the phenomena of 'Catholic Guilt' as a case in point. While I dispute that we are more to blame than anyone else, it is hard to dispute that the church has a well earned reputation for causing shame as much as it relieves it. So why do we have such a hard time getting rid of something that we aren't supposed to have, and no one wants?

I believe I have caught a glimpse of the problem, from a rather unlikely source. Depending on whether or not you had a Nickelodeon watching child 8 years ago, you may or may not be familiar with "Avatar: The Last Airbender" (the American anime style cartoon, not the awful M. Night Shyamalan movie). I need to do a post some time on why I like this show so much, and I am terrible at summaries, so instead I will direct you to the Wikipedia page if you are interested, which you should be. One of the characters, Iroh,  acts as the moral center and source of wisdom throughout the series. In one episode ("Bitter Work"), Iroh observes, "...pride is not the opposite of shame, but its source. True humility is the only antidote to shame."

This got me to thinking. Anyone with any religious (or western literature) background knows that pride is one of the seven deadly sins, and [less well know] humility is one of the seven heavenly virtues. We usually hear about pride as being bad because it encourages us to set ourselves up equal to God and better than our fellow man. Its a sin because it leads us to build towers of Babel in our own lives, because it gives us the illusion that we can somehow save ourselves or, worse, don't even need saving. Pride makes us echo Satan in Paradise Lost, thinking that is its "Better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heav'n". I do not dispute any of this.

But I want to suggest that this is a rather flat picture of pride. It mostly describes how pride insults God, that the main issue with pride not that it hurts us in this life, but hurts our chances in the next. I want to suggest that it damages us just as much in this life. That pride has been the perpetual fountain of shame that we have never been able to stem. Most of us have never tried to cultivate true humility. We usually stop somewhere around the humble-brag stage, where we get caught being proud that we are humble. This is not humility, and leaves the door wide open not only for our own shame, but for shaming others. Far too often we say "Thank you God, that you did not make me that person" instead of reaching out. This is where we get all holier-than-thou and bruise the body of Christ, and prevent ourselves from truly knowing the freedom from shame and guilt that God wants for us.

This is not to say that we should not repent from our sins. But if we did not think so highly of ourselves to begin with, we would not feel the need to wallow in guilt once we have confessed and been cleansed from all iniquity.

What would true humility look like? I'm not sure. I know that it is a lot more selfless, a lot quieter, a lot more generous than whatever it is we are doing now. Humility requires us to look beyond ourselves, to acquire a proper perspective of who we are and what we are here for. I don't think this means dwelling on how insignificant we are in the grand scheme of things. In the grandest of grand scheme of things, you were important enough for God to become flesh, and submit Himself to death for you. But I do think it requires us to remember that we are Christ's hands and feet in this world now, and that we should be trying to see a long lost brother or sister in everyone we meet, and acting accordingly.

If only we can let go of our pride, and embrace true humility, we may at last shed the shame that keeps us from knowing, and sharing, Christ' love to the fullest.

"But does she ever say a prayer for me?"

Sometimes God uses not-holy things to bring us to contemplating the holy. If He wants to he can even use a song that for the most part mocks His church. 

I listen to so-called variety stations when I'm driving to reduce what my sister has accurately dubbed 'verbal road rage'. Drivers around here don't believe in blinkers, lights, or speed limits. And I don't just mean they speed. I mean they also go way under the limit. For the most part you learn the quirks of the drivers in your part of town, and learn be really careful for people turning. But on the highway I travel to get to school, it can be chaos near rush hours for all of the above reasons, plus mild congestion. If I am not singing along to something, I'll be loudly telling off my fellow drivers, even though they can't possibly hear me. 

On the radio quite a bit of late is Billy Joel's "Only the Good Die Young", which is not a particularly wholesome song. Now, there is a whole post just waiting to be written on his claim that he'd rather "laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints/ the sinners are much more fun", but what's been nagging me is this stanza: "Said, your mother told you all that I could give you was a reputation/ Aw, she never cared for me/ But did she ever say a prayer for me?"

There are two reasons why this has been bothering me. One, we are expressly commanded to pray for our enemies. Two, we have a really bad reputation, I have discovered, of not doing this or worse, doing it in a combative manner.  One of the top links to 'pray for your enemies' in a Google search comes back "Praying for your enemies--how to slap them around with prayer!" Yes, internet, that's why we are commanded to pray for our enemies. So we can feel self righteous the next time they trip because that was God slapping them for us. 

NO! Wrong! Wrong wrong wrongity wrong*! There are SO many reasons that we should pray for our enemies and absolutely none of them are revenge based. No, not even "vengeance is mine, sayeth the LORD" based. If the LORD wants to do some vengeance wreaking, that's His business and can be done in all wisdom and goodness. 

Take a look at what Paul says we should be doing as those who have been saved. 

Let love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good; love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honor.  Do not lag in zeal, be ardent in spirit, serve the Lord. Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer.  Contribute to the needs of the saints; extend hospitality to strangers.

Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another; do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly; do not claim to be wiser than you are.  Do not repay anyone evil for evil, but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all.  If it is possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave room for the wrath of God; for it is written, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.”  No, “if your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink; for by doing this you will heap burning coals on their heads.” Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. (Romans 12:9-21 NRSV)

Not that Christians have ever live up to bar that has been set for us, but I can't help but feel a lot of us aren't even trying anymore. "How can we show honor when the idea of honor has been discredited and discarded?", we simultaneously ask and excuse ourselves. "How can we do what is noble in the sight of all in these days of extreme relativism?" We have let the world tarnish those things we should be striving towards, and so tried to excuse ourselves from even trying, and let everything kinda slide too. How convenient of this world we are suppose to transform to have removed such a difficult goal. 

Our lives as Christians were never supposed to be easy. The burden is easy and the yoke is light because we know where we are going. Whatever happens in this life, we will rest in the bosom of Christ. We will see the peaceful kingdom. In this life, we can take everything to God in prayer, and lay our burdens on Him. That doesn't mean we get to rest on our laurels now. We are still running the race, and part of that race is trying our best to do and be all the things listed above. When was the last time you tried to outdo someone in showing honor? When was the last time I blessed the person who cut me off in traffic, or the people who try to mock my faith? As a people, we are terrible about acting haughty. These days its being called holier-than-thou and its not a compliment. 

None of this is to say I'm very good at this either. I'm argumentative, petty, anger prone, and I have the vocabulary of a sailor when I want to. But I'm trying. I have drastically cut down on the profanity in my daily speech. And I know I need to try harder. I need to be more zealous, more honorable, more noble, more generous. It's not an easy task, but its what Christ asks of us.

How can we tell Him who bore the full weight of our sins, who died a torturous death, and broke the gates of Hell for us that we won't even try to be the kindest, noblest, gentlest people on the planet the way He asks us to? Do we really want to face Him on Judgement Day and say it was too hard?

~PhysicsGal

"Just as I am, without one plea": A meditation

Have you ever had the feeling that you need a word, a song, a something, but can't quite put your mental finger on what you are looking for? I've been having that feeling for the past week or so. There was a hymn somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew it was there, but I couldn't for the life of me remember what it was enough to sing it or even look it up. I have felt a calmness the past couple of days, and I know this was somehow a part of it, but I just couldn't dreg it up out of my subconscious. Hymnary is an amazing and indispensable tool for many things, but it is especially good for when I know I want a hymn, but have only an inkling of what I want. (It is also the only tool I know of where you can search by melody fragment). 

All of that is by way of saying "Just as I am, without one plea" is what has been flitting on the edge of my mind recently. It is one of those songs I have a very hard time singing without crying, but fortunately that is not an impedance to writing about it. If there were a dictionary of descriptive terms, under 'simple and plaintive' would be this hymn. Written by Charlotte Elliot around 1833, it was written as a mediation on how she came to Christ and as a statement of faith. It was first published in The Invalid's Hymnbook (Elliot was herself semi-invalid after a severe illness when she was 32), and according to Hymnary's count has been included in 1,408 hymnals to date. In four short stanzas of 4 verses each*, she lays out every Christian's walk of faith.

Just as I am, without one plea,
but that thy blood was shed for me,
and that thou bidd'st me come to thee,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

Just as I am, and waiting not
to rid my soul of one dark blot,
to thee, whose blood can cleanse each spot,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

Just as I am, though tossed about
with many a conflict, many a doubt,
fightings and fears within, without,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

Just as I am, thou wilt receive,
wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve;
because thy promise I believe,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come. 

The first stanza reminds us of something we often forget--we have absolutely no claim on God except through the blood of Christ. "Good people don't go to heaven. Forgiven sinners do" is the short reminder I sometimes see on cars around here. "For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God— not the result of works, so that no one may boast." (Ephesians 2:8-9). There is nothing we bring to the table, except the name of Jesus. But Elliot also reminds us that Christ has not only washed us in His blood, but "bidd'st [us] come". He invites the little children to come to him, and tells his disciples that the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as them (Matthew 19:14). Over and over, Christ invites people, bids them come to him. Our God is a welcoming God. All we have to do is 'come'. 

The second stanza places special emphasis on the cleansing power of Christ's blood. It is one of those images that is somewhat paradoxical. Normally, we think of blood as staining. Its right up there with wine and ketchup on those commercials touting the cleaning power of a detergent. We think of it staining the hands of a murder. Think of the scene in Macbeth where we witness Lady Macbeth's sleepwalking, wringing her hands and trying to wash out the blood. And yet as Christians we constantly use this image of being washed white in  the blood of the Lamb. It is of course a metaphor, but its still a little strange. And yet here, Elliot doesn't dance with the metaphor. Doesn't play theological tricks with it. Its simple. Our souls are covered with dark blots, like a shirt who had a pen burst in the pocket. But no elaborate ritual, no multistep process with three different chemicals are needed to remove these stains. Though the dark spots on our souls are literally 'damned spots', accepting a washing in Christ's atoning blood is all that is needed, and is freely offered, if we would but come.

The third stanza deals with that topic that every Christian deals with, and few like to talk about, except in the context of "I'm not like that anymore". The fact that often we still feel conflicted, doubtful, fearful. We are freed from the power of sin and death, not from fallen human condition in this life. How often was Peter, on whom Christ laid the church, fearful? Conflicted? He doubted Jesus as he was walking on the water to him. We can't possibly expect to do better. The good news is Christ doesn't ask us to come after we're sure. After we've weighed the pros and cons and come to a decision. He does not ask us to come to him after we've gotten over our fears. He will take us just as we are, flaws, sins, doubts, fears and failings all, if only we will come to him.

And here, in the fourth stanza, is our declaration, our hope and our joy. Christ will take us just as we are, with all our brokenness, our guilt, our fear that we don't belong, and takes it all away. We are welcomed as honored guests, our sins are removed as far from the east is from the west, their stains are forever removed, and all our fear, our pain, our brokenness healed. If only we will believe in his promises, by grace through faith, and come unto Him.

*Thanks Dad, for correcting my terminology. 

Theology: Discipline or Distraction?

If you hang around church circles long enough, at least the kind of church that adheres to a systematic theology, you're bound to hear someone say "I find theology gets in the way of my relationship with God".

I have always dismissed this statement out of hand. I have always considered theology vital to a life of faith. Maybe it was my upbringing. Maybe it's because I am a cerebral person. I understand things by trying to think them through logically. Systematic theology seemed natural. Of course you are going to sit down and try to make everything hang together. This desire fell in line naturally with being  of a scientific inclination. The creation runs along logical (if strange and incredibly complex) lines, why should this order not be a reflection of the creator?

Lately, while I still love systematic theology, I can't help but wonder if there comes a point where systematic theology becomes too...systematic...and begins to obscure the transcendence of God by wrapping it so tightly in carefully woven and laid out arguments. After all, systematic theology is man's attempt to understand that which is ultimately beyond our understanding. All of creation is our plane, and I see no reason we cannot plumb its depths to its very foundation. But can we possibly think that we, who see through the glass but dimly, can wrap up any part of God or his thoughts in a nice little package?

Please don't misunderstand me. I think theology is critically important. And I enjoy the study of systematic theology. But I sometimes wonder if it isn't our tower of Babel, trying make God or at least God's plan of salvation try to fall under some logical progression and rubric? In almost every systematic theology I've studied, there is always some kind of hitch. Something that just doesn't seem to fit with God's character, but is necessary to hold the whole thing together.

On the other hand, I've seen what happens when you jettison theology whole sale. It becomes incredibly chaotic incredibly quickly. You can get something good if you are willing to sit down and do serious Bible study, several hours a day for years. But most people just start making stuff up. And then what you end up with is a mishmosh of Biblical themes or ideas with the person's own philosophical and political slant heavily mixed in. I've met people whose personal theology was so far removed from anyone else's I found it incredibly difficult to have a discussion with them. For every 1 hour discussion, we spent 3 just agreeing to the definition of terms. At the very least, if you study basic theology you can discuss with other people because you share a common language so to speak. And discussion with other people, either your contemporaries or sifting through the thoughts of the saints who have gone before, is a way to weed out your own prejudices.

I don't think theology gets in the way of a relationship with God, but it can sometimes get in the way of having a relationship with other Christians, and can get in the way of relationships with people who don't believe. It's so easy, so tempting to use theology not to understand God, but to intellectually batter an 'opponent'. And I've done this. Arguing into submission is a real problem for me, one that I am trying to fight as I get older. And if I can find a 'debate partner' to do this with where we both understand what we are doing, that's fine. I would even say that its important to discuss theological points, in a non aggressive way, with people of different theological stripes. But a lot of the time it seems we are forgetting Paul's admonition to the the church in Corinth to know nothing among them but Christ, and him crucified.

Jettisoning all our theological differences this side of the second coming is a pipe dream. The way they play out is just too varied and too unsettling if you are used to one and you have to deal with another directly. As a protestant, the Marian Catholic doctrines disturb me. I just can't swallow them, any more than as one of the 'frozen chosen' I can feel comfortable in a service where people are being slain in the spirit and shouting. I'm a  creature of extreme habit, so even slighter variations can make me feel ill at ease.

So what am I trying to say with all this? Theology is a useful tool, but it is just that, a tool, just as models in science are tools, and not reality. We need to be careful how we use this tool, making sure that we are using it to further our understanding of God and his plan for his children, and not as a weapon against our fellow pilgrims. The moment we start thinking that we know what God's thinking because our theology tells us so, and not because the Bible tells us so, it's time to take a step back. At that point, you are mistaking the model for the real thing.

"Come, Thou Fount of Every blessing": A meditation

It's been a while since I posted on the wisdom of the saints who have gone before. We sang "Come, thou fount of every blessing", by Robert Robinson, as the closing hymn in church last Sunday, and as always it struck a chord with me. Here is the text, which  is near identical to the first three verses of the original.

Come, Thou Fount of every blessing,  

tune my heart to sing thy grace;

streams of mercy, never ceasing,

call for songs of loudest praise.

Teach me some melodious sonnet,

sung by flaming tongues above;

praise his name--I’m fixed upon it--

name of God's redeeming love.

Here I raise my Ebenezer,

hither by thy help I’ve come;

and I hope, by thy good pleasure,

safely to arrive at home.

Jesus sought me when a stranger,

wandering from the fold of God;

He, to rescue me from danger,

bought me with His precious blood.

O to grace how great a debtor

daily I’m constrained to be!

Let thy goodness, like a fetter,

bind my wandering heart to thee:

prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,

prone to leave the God I love;

here’s my heart, O take and seal it;

seal it for thy courts above.

And yes, this was originally 5 verses. Hymnary, which is a great resource, and has as many versions as they can find hymn books (and they can find a lot), lists only one hymnal, from 1791 and presumably the original, which includes all five. The last two verses are a little...weird. And if the Regency and Victorian hymn book editors left it out, you know they have to be a little funky. To sum it up--the original hymn ends by asking God to tell the singer to "Get me up and die".

Ok, this is a geyser, not a fount, but it looks a lot nicer

This hymn sits proudly in the middle of praise songs, before that term was taken over by sappy Jesus-is-my-boyfriend pseudo pop nonsense. The theme, thesis, focus of the song is God and all that he has done for the one who believes in him. It opens with a supplication to God, the 'fount of every blessing', to change the singer's heart, and teach them how to properly praise God. What could be more pleasing to God than 'some melodious sonnet/sung by flaming tongues above"(other than the repentance of one sinner)? The earnestness of the writer/singer is immediately apparent. Its almost as if his entire being were straining towards this one goal of praising God. It sounds odd, but every time I sing this, I feel a deep sense of yearning, almost homesickness.

The second verse has lead to many a 'huh?' I'm sure, unless you had one of the hymnals which kindly gave the Biblical reference and a note of explanation for what an Ebenezer is. It is, of course, a stone monument raised to commemorate God's help and salvation (Dickens didn't name Scrooge that just because it sounded funny). In fact, the second line essentially explains the first. I love this verse, for all it encompasses. I always imagined that this song, with its declaration with our dependence on God and devotion to him, was a kind of modern day ebenezer (if I actually went around erecting stone monuments for all the times God has helped me, my yard would resemble nothing so much as a grave yard).

The author's description of Christ's salvific act, which brings to mind the parable of the Good Samaritan and the Good Shepherd, and emphasizes the personal quality of Christ's sacrifice.  I like the original wording, which replaces 'bought' with 'interposed', if only because it gives me this mental image of me being in the process of being dragged off to Hell, and Christ stepping between me and damnation to cover me in his blood and purity. Gory and graphic? Yes, but we are talking about eternal damnation here. It should be dramatic. I want to have a sense of the cost. I somehow imagine God as having infinite money, should it come to that. And yes, it says 'purchased with his blood', but purchase has already put money on my mind. Somehow interposing gets the point across better, but that's probably a personal preference, not a theology thing.

The last verse does a pretty little inversion of ideas. Grace is freely given, otherwise it is not grace, but here the singer considers himself permanently indebted to it. We usually think of being saved as being freed from the chains of sin and death, but the writer acknowledges that he is 'prone to wander' and asks that God's mercy be used to fetter (aka old school handcuff) himself to God, so he can't wander away anymore. This reminds us of the seeming contradictions of faith. By choosing faith, we have to give up, or at least try to give up, a lot of our selfish impulses, which to the outside world looks more constrained than ever. But in giving up our 'freedom' to do whatever we want, we gain a new, better freedom in Christ. We can live free from doubt, from  guilt and shame (though we often do a terrible job of showing this). We can live knowing, truly knowing, that whatever happens to us in this life, we have an eternity with God to look forward to. We no longer have to be afraid, not of sin, not of other people, not of anything the world can throw at us. Songs like this remind me of this reality in Christ, and urge me to walk more in the new life, and less in the old.

It really gets my goat

I get angry at things. Not always the things other people get upset about, but I can get very irritated by things. And people. Particularly people being stupid. 

Stupid is the polite if inaccurate term for what irritates me. Anti-vaccine people annoy me because they utterly fail to understand what they are citing  and because they are killing children. My fellow Christians who like to discount scientific discoveries annoy me because they are being willfully ignorant and turning a blind eye to some really cook aspects of creation. My fellow scientists are currently annoying me by being willfully ignorant the other way. 

This is a thing that causes me low level irritation on a daily basis, but then I saw this blogpost from one of the science bloggers I follow. Two things bothered me about this post. One, he was basing his entire argument off some truly awful questions. Another is his exhibition of the worst habit of contemporary science writers (and writers in general) to broadly generalize about anyone they view as an 'enemy' in a manner that makes them seem irrational.  Things like this quotation are particularly irritating.

A professed belief in something like creationism is one of the essential markers of a particular brand of political conservatism. As a result, even people who know the scientific answer are prone to giving the answer they’re “supposed” to give as a member of a particular political affiliation. And the number of people who self-identify as political conservatives, like the number who deny the Big Bang and evolution, is pretty consistent over the last thirty years.

Note that the answers he is talking about are the true/false responses given to the statements "“The universe began with a huge explosion”  “Human beings, as we know them today, developed from earlier species of animals.” 

Now I object to several things. One, the assumption that just because I believe in creation means I'm a right-wing nut job (I also object to my beliefs being co-opted by a political party, but that's a separate issue). Two, that there is one version of creationism. I also think true/false polls are terrible ways of gauging people's views.  

Attention non-religious science-types. The 'creationism' that you refer to so derisively is in fact Young Earth Creationism. This is a very narrow slice of people who believe that the universe was created and not just a random event. There are several flavors of creationism (main forms summarized here). If you went around and seriously interviewed a wide swath of Christians (since we are the 'creationists' everyone seems to want to poke), I'm willing to bet good money you would find most of them to be either Old Earth Creationists, or Theistic Evolutionists (I myself fall largely into the later category). But if you just straight up asked me "Are you a creationist?" I would probably answer yes.

I believe that the universe began with the Big Bang. I believe the the prima causa of the Big Bang was God. I believe that God used evolution to create the variety of life we have today, with a little nudging in the direction he wanted it to go. When it comes to the physics or the biology or the chemistry, I do not deny the scientific evidence or theories. I will argue for them with people who don't believe in the science. Why is science so threatened that I want to, and do, believe to know Who's behind the curtain?

Fellow scientists. You get mad as all get out when people deride your science without doing any research or learning beyond their own prejudices and maybe one newspaper article. Could you do other people the courtesy of not doing the same?

Lorica of St. Patrick, Part 2

This post continues where I left off in my meditation on St. Patrick's Breastplate. Part 1 covered verses 1 -  3 and discusses in more detail the two versions that I refer to here. The original poem by an unknown 8th century Irish poet and the metricized* and edited translation by Cecil Frances Alexander in the 19th century. This post picks up with the fourth verse.

 The fourth verse sounds a bit new-age-y to 21st century ears, though it has a perfectly good explanation for being here in an 8th century hymn.

I bind unto myself today
the virtues of the star-lit heaven,
the glorious sun's life-giving ray,
the whiteness of the moon at even,
the flashing of the lightning free,
the whirling wind's tempestuous shocks,
the stable earth, the deep salt sea
around the old eternal rocks.

Druids, the priestly types of the Celtic pagan religion that dominated the pre-Christian British Isles, were fond of claiming for themselves the powers of nature (or at least the ability to control it). This verse reclaims nature for its Creator and those who believe in Him, much like putting this poem in the form of a lorica reclaimed that form for Christ (early Christians seem to have made a habit of either mocking or reclaiming things from pagans.) I'd categorize this verse as one of those that was very useful when it was written, but less so today.

 Verse five I would say is the meat of this hymn. Its twice as long as the other verses, and I would say get to the heart of the writer's purpose.

          I bind myself today to God's Virtue to pilot me,
          God's might to uphold me,
          God's wisdom to guide me,
          God's eye to look before me,
          God's ear to hear me,
          God's Word to speak to me,
          God's hand to guard me,
          God's way to lie before me,
          God's shield to protect me,
          God's host to secure me,
          Against snares of demons,
          Against seductions of vices,
          Against lusts of nature,
          Against every one who wishes ill to me,
          Afar and anear,
          Alone and in a multitude.

Remember, this poetic form is known as a 'breastplate' hymn. Its meant for protection. In this case I would say its a prayer for protection against both outside forces, and those inner forces which cause us to stray from God's will. It reminds, although indirectly, of the Aaronic Blessing: 

The Lord bless you and keep you;
the Lord make his face to shine upon you, and be gracious to you;
the Lord lift up his countenance upon you, and give you peace. 

Numbers 6: 24-26 (NRSV)

Particularly the first and last lines. Interestly, it also invokes "God's Host", presumably meaning angels and the like, to protect the speaker against three things we don't talk about much: demons, vices and lusts of nature. It also invokes for protection against other people "afar and anear" which takes on new meaning in this age of globe trotting. 

Last post I mused on how angels have fallen by the wayside, too sickly sweet, turned from fearsome servants of God into spiritual diabetes inducing Russel Stover candies. Those things your great aunt pulls out at the holidays. The flip side is that we've also, perception-wise, weakened their nemeses. Oh sure, we talk about all having to fight our own demons, but pretty much no one means it literally. The closest we get is the devil-on-the-shoulder thing. What ever happened to those guys? Did they all have to suddenly accept mandatory retirement around 1700? Did they all turn into cynical hipsters and decide to just slouch around Hell? Don't tell me humans started doing their jobs for them--humans have been doing that since the fall. Have we just started rationalizing them away? Have we gotten too 'enlightened' to see them? I'm not suggesting we go back to diagnosing schizophrenics as possessed or anything like that. And I'm definitely not suggesting we revive the ridiculous demonolgies of the Middle Ages. But I feel it is a question we need to address, seriously, and not try to sweep under the rug. Even if you aren't a hard core Bible literalist, I challenge you to find a way to explain away all of Jesus's casting out of demons without serious undermining the rest of the Gospel account. I'm not saying I have any sort of answer--I try not to think about demons, to be honest. But I think there is a certain amount of dishonesty, and we lose some credibility, by not addressing them. 

 Vices and lusts of nature are another we don't talk about. We joke about the seven deadly sins (all of which are vices) and we might give lip service to the lusts of nature, but we don't address them, at least not in ourselves. From where I sit, the church has an awful lot of planks to take out of our eyes. You can complain about the medicalization of vices and biological explanations for lusts, but what the heck have we Christians offered in rebuttal? A lot of shaming and blithering and hypocrisy. Of which we are supposed to be doing exactly...none. Seriously, point me to the place where we are supposed to be shaming our neighbors with anything else but our holiness, our taking care of societies cast offs, our embracing the sinner? The church needs to be praying this verse every single day until Christ comes again. 

*Thanks to my dad for pointing out my use of the non-existent word "meterized" in my first post and providing the correct term "metricized"