the parish

Why Jesus Wants You to Stop Punching Me in the Face, or Evangelical Ethics

I forced my Comp II students to labor through Bill McKibben's Christian Paradox: How a faithful nation gets Jesus wrong last week. They're learning to read and parse extended arguments, and McKibben's is an excellent example of deconstructive analysis. The thesis matters very little for the sake of this post. If you care, read it. The conversation that followed was amazing. One of the things that I'm trying to overemphasize is that part of critical reading is ensuring words are clearly understoood in their context. With that in mind, we asked the question "what is the definition of Christian?" Oh dear.

About three-fourths of this class consider themselves Christian, by some definition. Answers to the question used the expected vocabulary: being saved, believing Jesus is savior, believing Jesus saved us from our sins, crucifixon, resurrection, etc. As the discussion progressed, most settled on a more understandable definition: follower of Jesus. So, perversely, I asked the simple question: what does it mean to follow Jesus? That led to no small degree of consternation. I've found that undefined phrases work far better for faith than defined ones. 

Excursus: Reading The Magician King, Lev Grossman's follow-up to the amazing The Magicians. In one of the novel's more ironic scenes, Quentin and Elliot, Fillory's kings, have the following exchange:

Q: "What attitude is that?"
E: "I haven't got a clue. I guess we're supposed to have faith."
Q: "I never took you for the faith-having kind."
E: "I didn't either. But it's worked out so far. We've got five of the seven keys. You can't argue with results."
Q: "You can't, but that's actually not the same thing as having faith."
E: "Why do you always try to ruin everything?"
Q: "I'm not ruining it. I just want to understand it."
E: "If you had faith, you wouldn't have to understand."

Cue ironic laughter. But it's partly true. Most of what works at the level of faith is above (or below) rationality, and therefore somehow exempt from explicability. Phrases meant to explain the soteriological process are included. They are metaphors or analogies at best, as language about magical ontological processes seem utterly resistant to robust, defined vocabulary. All words about salvation are analogous or metaphorical. This was made apparent to another student recently who asked if I am saved. I replied, "I've been saved many times. Mainly from serious injury in traffic and skiing accidents. What did you mean?" Once the metaphor is flattened, as it should be in this case, the question becomes more plain.

Following Jesus becomes a matter of plain English (in the American case). So, the students seemed perplexed when forced to define it. Ambiguity suits faith far more than reason. The students were caught on the horns of a dilemma: how to talk about obedience and discipline without falling into legalism or (gasp) works righteousness. I finally grew weary of them avoiding the obvious answer: to do as Jesus did, including righteous acts and obedience to "the rules." I then asked how many people in their lives behaved like "true Christians," a qualifier offered by a man who was distressed that his fellow students seemed wishy-washy on the whole holiness thing. The most any student knew was five. Twenty students who are surrounded by church people confessed to knowing less than 100 people who acted in any way that was similar to Jesus. Excuse me: fucking fuck. Are you serious?

This led to the usual explanations. "We're all human. We struggle. Some are better in other areas than me and vice versa. We're trying to do what's right." I asked, "What's the Sermon on the Mount for? Are you supposed to follow those rules?" Of course not. They lead us to understand that we're hopeless without Christ. Excuse me again: fuck me in the face. Really?

Here's my speech. As an outsider I need you to know a couple things. Number one: I don't give a shit what you believe. I care what you do. I judge you based on what you do. This seems reasonable. Number two. If you're punching me in the face, I don't need you to try really hard to stop doing it. I need you to stop doing it. There is no reward in trying when it comes to ethical behavior. The goal is the goal. The journey may be the goal in progressive holiness, but when it comes to punching me in the face, trust me, the goal is the goal.

Dexter on Prayer and Purpose, or Why I Don't Need a Mythological Purpose

As I mentioned in a previous post, Dexter is focusing on god or God this season, and I'm impressed with the ability of the writers to integrate it somewhat naturally into the story. Dexter will always utilize the grotesque—in the Flannery O'Connor sense of the word—so some components of the story will be over the top (e.g., a mutilated man fastened to mannequin parts and riding the Four Horses), but mixed in with the Saw-like puzzle deaths this season has been a pretty good delivery of what might be unbelievable if not acted more than capably by three of the industry's most underrated actors: Mos, Colin Hanks, and Edward James Olmos. All three manage to bring credibility and subtlety to roles that could easily carom out of control. That's not to say they won't as the season progresses, but right now, all is well.

***Spoiler Alert*** Last week's episode featured Dexter's son suffering a ruptured appendix, leading to an emergency surgery. Dexter is comforted in the hospital by his new friend, ex-con turned minister to ex-cons, Brother Sam (Mos). I really don't know if Mos is a Christian, but he delivers his lines with such conviction, I wouldn't be surprised to discover he actually believes this stuff, and kudos to the writers for handling redemption and interfaith friendship with a straight face (flesh and blood pastors could learn much from Mos this season). During the surgery, Dexter goes through the classic "bargain with God" scenario. This is away from the main tableau of the action, at a coffee machine that is refusing to deliver coffee. Once the deal is "made," the machine dispenses the coffee. This follows Mos's story about how a light caused him to change his ways, another seeming coincidence or the hand of God.

The son pulls through just fine (an overwhelming majority do with burst appendix—this is the 21st century, after all). Dexter unwittingly says "thank God," and then immediately corrects himself, thanking the surgeon in front of him. It's a nice device. Mos goads him kindly about it, and the scene ends. The viewer is left to ponder the activity of God in our lives. Are all such activities really theistic tampering or coincidence or just the way shit plays out?

Mos is consumed with his new life purpose, a purpose he has developed once being "called by God." Fine. It works for him. I'm a little weary of the "religion gives me purpose" canard, but I understand that it really does give some people a specific sense of purpose (yet undefined) in their lives. Somehow, they are afraid of purposeless existence, as if the immediate experience of love and kindness and aesthetic pleasures are insufficient. No, life must have a grander purpose in the form of a metanarrative that makes all my actions and all my goodness and all my suffering make existential sense into eternity. This strikes me as weakness of imagination and mind more than a necessary facet of existence. If loving others isn't purpose enough, how is it helped by loving others for reward in the next life? How is this not selfishness on an eschatological scale? If I need a god to have a plan for my life such that my actions have weight and import, it simply means I lack the imagination to conceive how my actions can be meaningful in the moment. All this is made worse by the very real possibility that the purpose I have determined god has for me is a complete fiction, as is the personal god behind it. What then? I live in happy delusion until I cease to exist? Lovely. How is that an improvement?

As for prayer, Dexter illustrates the almost instinctive impulse to cry out for help similar to the "no atheists in foxholes" sort of shit we hear from time to time. Put humans in enough trouble, the assumption goes, and we'll soon cry out to god, even if like Job, we are too craven to curse the "good" god who sends us boils and death and poverty. I rather prefer the response of one my recent students, a veteran of the Afghanistan war. When asked about crying out to god in the foxhole, he phlegmatically replied: "Some people did. I just pulled the fuckin' trigger." Better the mechanism that can be seen and relied upon than the mechanism that may well be a sad and primitive fiction we've created from superstitious fear, I suppose.

Sex and Cancer, or How to Pick a Christian Spokesperson

California Governor Jerry Brown signed AB 499, a law that will go into effect on January 1, 2012, that gives girls as young as 12 access to the HPV vaccine (Gardasil) without parental consent. The bill also provides for them to receive the hepatitis B vaccine and any other future vaccines for STIs. There is plenty of room here for discussion about parental rights and government authority. Parents groups are rightly worried about a government arrogant and paternalistic enough to abrogate parental rights under the guise of protecting young women. However, the question is about whether or not public health outweighs parental rights in this situation. It's a topic that ought to be open to vigorous debate, and both sides have good points.

Enter Christian author and rising star of the "Bronze Age Sexual Ethics for Modern Women" speaking circuit Teresa Tomeo. Tomeo, a Catholic and former "secular media" journalist (yes, secular media...sigh), has risen to prominence recently because of her new book: Extreme Makeover: Women Transformed by Christ, Not Conformed to the Culture.

The subtitle should tell you most of what you need to know, but this isn't about her book. It's about the press release her managment company sent out this week. Hilariously named The Maximus Group—presumably because the owner has a hard-on for Gladiator or John Eldredge or both—this is the company that handled advertising for the sappy, crappy film Courageous. And I apologize for calling schlocky propaganda a film. Ominously titled New California Law Frightens Bestselling Author Teresa Tomeo, the press release included some choice quotes from our Catholic ethicist.

Bestselling author Teresa Tomeo finds it disquieting, to say the least. "It is frightening that some in our society continue to push parents out of the picture when it comes to major decisions involving their sons' and daughters' health and welfare," said Tomeo, author of the new book EXTREME MAKEOVER: WOMEN TRANSFORMED BY CHRIST NOT CONFORMED TO THE CULTURE.

First, please note the Gospel of Marketing 1:1. Never miss an opportunity to sell your shit. We are told that Ms. Tomeo is feeling disquieted because of the nebulous "some," but we're also told she has a new book. Awesome! So, is this a public service announcement or an ad? That's just quibbling, though. This gets really funny.

"Children can't sign up for athletics — or be given as much as an aspirin in school — without Mom's or Dad's approval; but now, 12-year-olds in California can get the HPV vaccine without parental consent?!

First, that semicolon is all wrong and the dashes don't belong. Did Gladiator guy hire an English major to edit this shit? Might give it some consideration, or, er...pray over it? And what's with the double punctuation?! Really? Anyway. I suspect part of the reason children can't sign up for athletics or get an aspirin at school has something to do with liability issues for the schools. Also, this has nothing to do with health providers giving vaccines, but let's not let that stop the histrionics. Ready?

"We don't pass out filtered cigarettes or light beer to our youth," Tomeo added. "Why would we give them more reason to engage in unsafe behavior?"

Um, do we pass out full-calorie beer? Was she going for the "I'm a hip, drinking Catholic" with the beer reference? And what of unfiltered cigarettes? Those bizarre semantics aside, this is just faulty thinking. Cigarettes cause cancer; Gardasil prevents it. The analogy is simply false and inflammatory, oh, and stupid. Tomeo is yet another voice warning girls that sex is unsafe, just like cigarettes and beer. It remains true that Christian spokespersons who are so based on celebrity rather than intelligence or expertise seemingly have nothing new or interesting to contribute to any public debate.

God Loves Serial Killers, or Dexter Deconstructs God

I've been a fan of Dexter since season one, and I'm pretty excited that this season is going to feature Dexter's struggles with the concept of god (or God). Not that I'm convinced the show will handle the topic all that well, as I don't think campy serial killer comedy is the place to really parse natural or special revelation, but if last night is an indication, it'll at least be fun.

***Spoiler Alert*** Dexter is about to kill a man who murdered his own wife, the only hot girl who was ever nice to Dexter in high school, and made it look like a suicide. The following conversation ensues:

Dexter: What would Jesus have done? Seriously now. How do you reconcile your belief in a higher power – in a god – with what you’ve done?

Victim: What difference does it make?

Dexter: I’m just curious.

Victim: So, what – I’m supposed to defend my beliefs to you?

Dexter: If you don’t mind.

Victim: Look… I mean… Everyone makes mistakes. They do things they shouldn’t do. And… they’re only human. But God forgives us.

Dexter: Really? It’s as simple as that? You kill someone, and God forgives you for it?

Victim: Yes!

Dexter: So I can kill you, and God will forgive me?

Victim: Well, no!

Dexter: But you just said he would!

Victim: You have to truly repent.

It gets funnier from there, trust me, and the absurdity of God as protector is revealed when Dexter plunges the knife into the man. It's a little too simplified and a little too snarky, but the writers are on to something here. Dexter spends a good bit of the episode trying to understand why anyone believes in this bizarre concept, and he asks sincere questions. Most of the questions are met with utter confusion, ignorance, and answers that clearly contradict. This is truly not unlike asking people about their beliefs, especially those who nominally believe or believe a narrow set of answers that have been provided by a book or pastor or other trusted religious figure.

The question he asks (how do you reconcile...) is one I ask my students, and it's one I struggled with as evangelical and evangelical pastor and not-so-evangelical emergentish leader person. My cynical self claims that most of the people I know do exactly as much as they can safely get away with, especially in areas where they fully intend to be self-indulgent. (Yes, this includes me.) There are areas in all our lives where it's not difficult to succeed at being virtuous. I snarkily posted on fb today that a lack of options does not equal virtue. This was a response to a man who couldn't get laid in a whorehouse with cash in his pocket crowing about his lifetime of fidelity to his wife. If no one wants to fuck you, it ain't virtuous to be faithful; it's the status quo or the longest damn drought since Jezebel and Ahab.  The not so cynical side wants to believe that people can or even tend to be largely virtuous. (I really don't believe this very often.) 

One of my complaints on the way out of the faith was that forgiveness as envisioned in evangelical circles had become an escape hatch. No change of life is required, except in certain unimportant areas (premarital sex being the most notable), and forgiveness is the currency of a therapeutic deism that only wanders into theism when God really needs to fucking show up and answer my prayer. It's the answer the man gives when pushed to consider his own life; it's not necessary for me to truly repent, but if I need my neighbor to do so, I'll reintroduce the binding clause. 

The most amazing disconnect is between what Jesus says and what evangelicals say he means. Clearly, the easiest way to figure out how forgiveness, repentance, virtue, and salvation are related is to simply read the Sermon on the Mount. Rather than take it seriously, though, evangelicals and fundamentalists are taught that it's not really there to serve as a guide; rather, it's to lead us to despair so that we will rely on salvation through Jesus. Wow. I wonder if silly Jesus knew that when he was actually practicing rather successfully the things he "suggested." What then are we supposed to do? How will we know what is right and wrong? If you aren't going to take the words of your Lord seriously, how will I take you seriously? All hermeneutics becomes an exercise in justification of particular desires or the excusing of particular weaknesses. The hard stuff is interpreted away under a rubric of grace, and the answers given to difficult questions become labyrinthine inasmuch as the answerer really doesn't want to wander down the only path that will take him out of the maze of ethical confusion. The asker is left to wonder if the answerer understands what it is he's actually supposed to believe, understands what sort of behavior is actually Christian, and understands how a commitment to the hermeneutics of power and/or convenience has robbed the Church of their only legitimate witness.

Dexter should serve as a pretty good conversation starter in Christian education circles this season. One hopes they actually watch and then have the courage to reach for the difficult answers. After all, if it was me being caricatured like that, I'd want a powerful witness to point to, but the Church has abandoned Jesus because his words are too hard and therby abandoned the only meaningful witness we cynics give a shit about: how do you live?