the parish

When is a literalist not a literalist?

Let's put aside the dispensationalist read of Jesus' words. Only a few Pentecostal groups and odd Baptists take that reading seriously anymore. The other read posits two zones of ethical behavior: the personal and the communal. According to this reading, Jesus' words about loving enemies are to be construed as relating to personal behavior—they seem unaware the degree to which this reading is infulenced by Western indiviualism, but let's give them the benefit of the doubt. In this scenario, I should love my enemies as long as they do not try to harm someone I love or someone innocent. At that point, the ethical emphasis shifts to the communal and I can stop loving them, or, to put it in phraseology they would understand, I can exercise love for the innocent and retributive/salvific love for the transgressor. Somehow, within the zone of communal ethics I am occasionally allowed to take on the role of God. This applies also to military and police responsibilities, and I always chuckle when I remember a fundy friend who told me he could love and kill Iraqis at the same time. The best you can say for that thinking is that hte word love means whatever we choose to make it mean—an odd perspective for Biblical literalists.

So, once we move into the communal ethical zone we no longer have to read Jesus' words literally. Then we can engage in a process of convoluted eisegesis that takes into account our cultural setting as well as the often hard to identify cultural influences that makes us think like we do. So, here's another scenario for the literalists. I am in the military. Covert operations. As part of my responsibilities, I will need to sleep with a woman to extract information from her. I'm married though. So, personally, I can't cheat on my wife, as that would transgress a pretty clear command. However, in my role as soldier in the zone of communal ethics, sleeping with the woman will give me information that will save hundreds or thousands of lives. Obviously then, it is a morally defensible activity despite Jesus' words and the Mosaic Law.

There may well be two zones of ethical behavior; in fact, I'm sure there are, but I'm equally sure there are core ethical principles that should not be transgressed irrespective of which zone I'm operating in. Maybe I don't need to sleep with the woman. Maybe I can just torture the information out of her. That way I stay pure. But wait, there's this annoying love my enemies command. This is the very reason Anabaptists have historically avoided the military and the police force. The command to love your enemy would seem to take priority over all other commands. In fact, I want to say that it is the center of the Christian ethical system. Without it, Christianity has absolutely no uniqueness among ethical systems. Christians become, in Jesus' words, people who love those who love them back. What reward have you? Even the heathen do that.

The death of Jesus on the cross would seem to be the definitive statement about God's unwillingness to resort to violence to protect the innocent, but once you add the language of substitutionary atonement, you can make the more powerful, more difficult story go away. The story is compelling, but not the way fundangelicals tell it. For them it becomes a synthesis of spiritual catharsis and cultural preferences, be they materialism, violence, individualism, militarism, or elitism.

Eastern Promises and Western Nonsense (I am Legend)

Saw two movies over the break that kind of spoke to where I am existentially speaking. Eastern Promises is a bleak, wonderful film that I appreciated, if not enjoyed. It's difficult to enjoy any Cronenberg film; at best, I think you can appreciate them. Viggo Mortensen plays a morally ambiguous Russian mobster who is brought into Naomi Watts's life by the death of an underage Russian prostitute. Watts plays a midwife who feels some responsibility for the newborn daughter of the prostitute. Mortensen is allied with the men who enslaved, impregnated, and ultimately killed the young prostitute. The acting is excellent, the story moves well, the melancholy mood is tangible, and a sense of despair hangs over the film despite brief moments of redemptive humanism. (Vincent Cassel gives one of his best performances as the horrifyingly unhinged son of the Russian mob boss. Cassel has the ability to make homicidal, criminal insanity look buffoonish, comedic and capricious without losing himself in the clown's role.)

Watts and her British mother are the two redemptive characters in the film, and Mortensen, while appearing to be wholly evil, has a secret that makes his character redemptive in a hopeless way. Much like A History of Violence, this film traces the unintended consequences of giving oneself to a life of violence and "sin." And, much like the previous Cronenberg/Mortensen project, violence is the atmosphere and the resolution. It's difficult to know whether Cronenberg is encouraging us to avoid violence or saying that we need characters like Mortensen's to protect us while we engage our best human attributes. He is certainly pointing out the moral ambiguity that animates our lives, as well as the sense that we are most on our own when we try to do what is right. In an odd shot, Mortensen, Watts, and the baby form a "holy family" picture, but God is altogether absent—an appropriate comment about a world wherein 14-year old Russian girls are forced into prostitution, raped, and murdered.

The hot, cinemaphile, hairdresser wife and I went to see I am Legend yesterday. Don't know why. I tend to wait for these mediocre pictures on dvd and spare myself the agony of sitting through Will Smith's 12-year old fans chattering through the quieter parts of the film. The movie has some genuinely suspenseful moments, but most of the scares are of the zombie jumps out of the dark variety, and the entire film is spoiled by the overt deus ex machina plot-turn. Smith rails against God's absence when an epidemic survivor shows up to tell him that God told her there was a survivor's colony in Vermont. The segue is triggered by her showing up in time to save Smith from his suicidal impulse, and in case we're too stupid to see the messianic theme, a crucifix dangles from the rearview mirror in the center of the frame just before help arrives. *Spoiler alert* After Smith's sacrifice to save humanity, the woman actually finds the survivor's colony, and as the huge metal gates grind open, a white, clapboard church, complete with steeple, is the center of the colony, and the shot. God is indeed good. Except that Eastern Promises seems to make more sense of God's absence than I am Legend. If God is determined not to help, and if God is waiting for 92% of humanity to be killed off by our own god-envy (something implied by Emma Thompson's character in I am Legend) so that we can hear him in the silence, why use the word good at all? The word takes on a morally ambiguous character when applied to a being who either can't or won't stop the decimation of the world, but will provide survivors with a gated colony and clapboard church and a crystal clear voice to follow. I'll take Russian melancholy over Western optimism any day, especially when it's as silly as I am Legend.

Spam filter woes

Some of you have tried to post comments multiple times. Today I discovered that Typepad's spam filter has recently become HAL. It is randomly—in my mind—choosing some comments to relegate to the spam box. I've published all the non-spam comments, even from a certain troll. I apologize for the glitch, and I'll see if I can talk HAL into ceding his newfound authority.

American Communion: The Book of Cynics, Chapter 1

1 And it came to pass that Jesus came to America, not in the way of Joseph Smith's story; rather, he showed up at Chili's in a Southern state. He was tired and hungry and wanted bread and wine. 2 When he discovered the wine available at Chili's, he immediately left that place and went to a local restaurant with a better menu. 3 The place was frequented by many different people of various races and religions (some having no religion) and political leanings. 4 He sat at a table in the rear of the bar and ordered a red table wine (under $15) and a basket of bread. 5 After the server brought the bread and wine, she asked if she could get Jesus an appetizer or lunch. 6 "Nay," Jesus replied. "But please, invite all the patrons to come have bread and wine with me." 7 The servant girl was taken aback but did as Jesus requested. 8 Upon hearing the news, many of the patrons refused to go into the bar area of the restaurant for fear that they would become ritually unclean or because they mistranslated a verse in Thessalonians about abstaining from evil or because they thought Jesus was just testing their faith to see if they would actually drink something that they knew to be forbidden. 9 (They were possessors of the truth, after all.) 10 Some of the patrons did enter the bar, but when Jesus offered them bread and wine, they insisted on knowing the religious or political or sexual affiliations of the other diners before they would eat. 11 "It is my bread and my wine, and I may give it to whomsoever I choose," Jesus explained. 12 "Nay, 'tis not true," said the white, Christian, conservative Republican. "Only those people who have confessed you as Savior and Lord can take bread and wine with us." 13 "Nay, 'tis equally untrue," said the white, Catholic, moderate Democrat. "Only those people who are in the Communion of the Holy Roman Church may take bread and wine together." 14 "I'm afraid I have to disagree with both of them," said the goateed emergent church planter. "We should all sit down together and share bread and wine, and afterwards we'll paint a picture about our experience." 15 The lone black evangelical scoffed at the young emergent church planter. "Foolishness," he said. "We can't have bread and wine today because it isn't the first Sunday of the month. Besides, we should be drinking grape juice. 16 "Amen!" Said the Baptist, the Nazarene, and the Pentecostal. 17 "Why are we even in here?" Asked the Baptist. "We should be in the restaurant, not in the bar." 18 "Don't be such a teetotaler," said the white middle-aged Calvinist. "You're here because God predestined you to be here so there is nothing you could have done about it anyway. I would like to know how many tulip petals you ascribe to before I drink with you though." 19 "I'm not drinking," the Baptist shouted. 20 "Amen!" Said the Nazarene. 21 "And I believe three of the tulip petals," the Baptist said. 22 "That's like being 3/5 pregnant," said the Calvinist. 23 "I'll take care of this," said the political organizer. "I have experience working campaigns, so I'll organize this meeting so that everyone can get what they want." 24 "Whose campaign did you work?" The Pentecostal asked. 25 The organizer tossed out the name of a Democratic legislator. 26 "You're pro-abortion!" The Pentecostal shouted. 27 "No, I'm a pro-life Democrat," the organizer replied. 28 "No such thing," said the Calvinist. "All ideas have consequences, so if you support the party, you're supporting their platform." 29 "Well you support the killing of innocent Iraqis," the emergent church planter said. 30 A gay white liberal finally chimed in: "Aren't we supposed to be taking communion with Jesus?" 31 All the other Christians looked horrified, but only the Baptist would speak what was on everyone's mind. "We are not taking communion with a homosexual." 32 "I would like to take communion with all of you," Jesus said, but no one heard him. 33 He munched his bread in silence and had one glass of wine too many before going in search of a place to pray.

"Charity: Not Just a Stripper Name"--Larry the Preacher Guy

Larry makes the claim that the Church is the greatest charitable organization in the world. Ahem. Bullshit. Christians may be among the most charitable people in the world: Compassion Int'l, World Vision, Habitat for Humanity, Catholic Charities, etc. All run by people trying to do something redemptive in the world. Now, had Larry said the Church was the most charitable group of people in the world, I probably would have been forced to agree by the sheer weight of numbers. (I think that corporate and individual giving has probably surpassed the Church by now, but I have no numbers.) However, to say it's charitable as an organization is just false.

Charities are regularly rated for the amount of money given to the organization that goes to direct aid. Any charity that scores below 70% ought to give you great pause. Samaritan's Purse regularly heads the list of responsible religious charities because Graham used to make sure that 85% or more went to direct aid. The rest obviously goes to advertising, salaries, facilities, administration, etc. So, what do you say about an organization that routinely gives less than 15% of its total receipts to direct aid? Most of us wouldn't give a dime to a charity with that sort of rating. Most churches barely give 10%. The Nazarene Church, of which I used to be a part, rewards their churches/pastors who consistently give 10%. What a charitable organization! The best the world has ever seen!

Here's the rhetorical game they play. Churches collect money via tithes and offerings. That money is designated charity by virtue of the church's 501(c) 3 status. Voila! Christians are crazy charitable! They give billions to churches every year...of which 10-15% routinely goes to genuine benevolence. So, we call it charity, but it's really just upkeep for an organization that manages to squander billions while patting itself on the back for being truly charitable.

I proposed this solution a while back, but since Larry has just wandered onto the blog and started blathering, he missed it. Stop giving to churches! Find legitimate charities, religious or secular, who use money responsibly and give to them. There you go, Larry. Now I've moved from cynic to sage. God bless me. I'm off to catch a 90 gozillion dollar production of Muhammad's (peace be upon him) ascension to heaven featuring a real flying horse.

Jesus' Birthday in the Theater of the Absurd

ABC News reported that First Baptist Church of Fort Lauderdale, FL, will be spending 1.3 million dollars on their Christmas pageant. When asked why the church was spending so much on such a lavish production, the pastor explained that his church had to compete with other entertainment options in Florida. Of course. Again, we have churches competing with the entertainment industry not understanding that accepting that premise leads to a host of decisions that fundamentally changes what the church is. When asked why the money wasn't being used for a charitable cause, especially around Christmas, the pastor replied that the $35 entrance fee was being waived for financially challenged families. Jesus must be crying with joy at that bit of magnanimity.

Someone please tell me why churches must do these dog and pony shows every year. It's one of those assumptions that always goes unchallenged. Dear pastors: you don't have to have a pageant. You just don't. Take the money and give it to a homeless shelter. How many months of budget do you suppose 1.3 million would cover for a homeless shelter? Are church folk so daft that they don't see the bitter irony of spending that sort of money to entertain their own people while others are starving outside their doors? Merry fucking Christmas.

On an equally bizarre note, Mike Huckabee told a church group that his recent surge in poll numbers in Iowa was a result of a supernatural power. "The same power that enabled a little boy to feed multitudes with five loaves and two fish." Of course. Jesus wants Mike to win, and you know Jesus is crazy about polls. There are those on the Right who wonder why people like me toss the word theocratic around when people like Huckabee show up. The idea that Jesus wants him to win is laughably absurd. Only in evangelical America would anyone take a candidate who says that seriously.

The Golden Compass: Saw It

Went to the late show Saturday. Observations in no particular order:

• It's good. It's not Lord of the Rings good, but it's good. The cinematography and sets are remarkable. The CGI is the best I've ever seen.
• Dakota Blue Richards and Nicole Kidman are perfect, and I mean perfect. Kidman does a fantastic job of tapping into the passion of the ideologue—which is to say, she's evil, but she believes what she's saying.
• The daemons are as good as expected. Talking animals can be a bit sketchy, but these are wholly believable.
• The filmmakers had to condense too much information, so the story seems hurried and frenetic at times. Readers of the book will follow easily. Outsiders will feel like they're watching an outline of a good story. Important details are left out, including important reasons why we should give a shit about particular plot points.
• Not sure which of the religious aspects were "watered down." You'd have to be an idiot to not get the critique. Rosin's piece, linked in the previous post, said that the Magisterium was portrayed as a totalitarian government. Not exactly. Totalitarian governments don't toss around words like heresy. It's possible that an adult could be so religiously illiterate that he wouldn't recognize the vocabulary and the costumes, but he'd have to be an utter dolt not to understand that these are churchmen.
• If this was supposed to be a movie for kids, and if elements were toned down for the kids, why does the ice bear fight include dismemberment? Can't you see little Johnny marvelling as the cgi bears fight it out, only to look horrified when the lower jaw of one goes flying? I was drunk enough that I laughed at the thought during the movie. Kids' movie, my ass.
• We took a bottle of wine into the theater with us. I recommend it. Yellow Tail Reserve Shiraz. 90 points from Wine Spectator. Don't be fooled by the "yellow tail" name. This is good stuff. I only wish I'd left it in the bag to feel more like a wino.
• It's worth seeing. Let me know what you think if you've seen it.

The Golden Compass, Good Analysis and Slander

Just a quick follow-up. If you haven't read this, you probably should. Hanna Rosin at The Atlantic does a great job of analyzing the process of making the film, including real interviews with a real Philip Pullman.

Unlike this story, sent to me by Simon at bloggasm.com, which just goes to show that proponents of the Truth will go to any length to ensure their version of the Truth wins. (And what's with the capital "T"?) Seems Christians are making up quotes by Pullman to justify their desire to censor whatever messages don't measure up. I just can't believe it. Christians lying. They're either too credulous or too stupid or too dishonest to care about checking on these quotes. Nope. They just hit forward and say a prayer. Because, you know, stopping The Golden Compass is just like stopping child rape...

The Golden Compass and, You Guessed It, Atheists

I find myself in the odd position of defending atheism these days. For the record, I'm not an atheist. I simply don't know, and quite frankly, don't care about the God question these days. I do think that atheism is as reasonable, maybe more so, than theism. Still, I have experiences in my life that I've yet to categorize, so until I'm satisfied that there is a physiological or psychological explanation, I'll leave the question open.

The Golden Compass opens this weekend. I read the series several years ago; I was an evangelical at the time, possibly a bit of a fundy. I remember reading the passage wherein God dies and being a little angry. However, I also remember thinking that this was one of the most brilliant examples of children's literature I'd ever read. It far surpasses Narnia in complexity, character development, story, plot, originality, and almost every other aspect of what makes a book (trilogy, in this case) literature. The concept of a daemon (sort of like a soul) as external to and opposite in gender from the human, as well as its nature as an animal that reflects the personality of the human was, I thought at the time, one of the most original constructs in kids' lit in generations.

I read recently that Philip Pullman, the author, was taking criticism for allowing the atheist angle to be watered down so as to make the movie more appealing to the mainstream. I haven't seen it yet, so I don't know if it's true. I would be sad if that angle is minimized. Not because I'm an atheist (see above), but because the story is dependent upon that particular philosophy. The tension in the story is created by a group who is separating children from their daemons. This leads to the destruction of what it is to be human in the children. The group is a very thin allegory of the Church. The point Pullman is making should be obvious at this point. So, is that unfair?

Just this week, our hometown paper, the Daily Oklahoman, ran a cover story about the religious questions surrounding the movie. For some reason, Carla Hinton, the religion editor and author of the piece, used William Donohue from the Catholic League to speak on behalf of Catholics. If you've read Donohue's press releases in the past, you'll know that there is almost nothing he is actually for; he seems to be against an exhaustive list of human frailty, vice, and fun. Predictably, he's called for Catholics to boycott the movie. Not to be outdone, the Baptist General Convention of Oklahoma dedicated an entire session at their recent annual conference to addressing the movie and trilogy. Predictably, they don't like it. Seems Baptists and Catholics can agree that atheism is not something their kids need to read about. So, now for the irony...again.

The entire point of Pullman's series is that the Church uses a construct called God to control behavior, and in doing so, robs us humans of our humanity and freedom. How does the Church respond to this? By insisting that we keep our kids away from this movie. It's called atheist propaganda—I guess that makes Narnia Christian propaganda. It's subversive, meant to rob our children of their faith. The Church in turn will rob them of their ability to think critically and consider all questions that touch on belief. Atheists shouldn't be proselytizing children. The Church will continue to offer VBS, backpack give-aways, free pizza, game platforms, bad music, and easy answers to difficult questions, because, I suppose, when you're right, it's okay that you're the proselytizer? I don't use this word much, but this is rank hypocrisy. If you can evangelize kids, then atheists can do the same damn thing, so quit crying about it. Read the books. Read 'em to your kids. Talk about the ways Pullman is right—don't act like he's not, because he's dead on when it comes to the ways churches control the minds of young people, using fear, intimidation, hell, judgment, faulty apologetics, guilt, and rewards for conformity.