9.28.2005
Speaking of fantasy literature... It's finally here!! I just ordered the next (long awaited and much anticipated) book of Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time(tm) series, Knife of Dreams (release date October 11). Do I have time to read a 783 page book? No. Will I read this 783 page book? Yes. Something or someone else will suffer the consequences of my decision. It's been so long since I've read the series, I need to go back and do some review--of 6,997 pages worth of fantasy! Fortunately, others more dedicated than I have done the hard work of summing up the chapters of every book (complete with amazing cross-references!) for me.
Another good fantasy series: The next installment of George R. R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire(tm) series is coming out November 8.
Another good fantasy series: The next installment of George R. R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire(tm) series is coming out November 8.
9.27.2005
the value of fiction
One of the last essays in The Simpsons and Philosophy that I read appealed to some accounts of the value of fiction as a pedagogical tool, particularly with regard to ethics. In one of these accounts, the usual way in which philosophers talk about ethics--abstract prose essays--is contrasted with the way in which fiction presents itself--concrete situations. The value of the latter over the former, so the account goes, is that the latter is more realistic insofar as it portrays the ethical situation in the kind of detail and with the attendant messiness of characters and circumstances that is present in a situation we would be likely to find ourselves faced with. The reason why abstract essays are the usual vehicle for such discussions (and for just about any philosophical discussion) is because it allows the level of analysis and evaluation needed to make sense out of the (abstract) concepts and principles that are at work in the concrete, realistic situations we come up against. For the most part, fictional accounts tell us how characters do act in certain situations, but they do not typically show us why we should or should not act that way. They offer examples and illustrations, not principles and guidelines. Yet, ethical principles and guidelines given in the abstract apart from concrete situations in which they might occur is nearly always pedagogically unhelpful. It is much easier for us to grasp particulars. The fact that fiction offers such realistic illustrations is a value that it has, for it is in such illustrations that values and principles are reflected or opposed (rather than taught). Last semester I used two of Camus' novels for this very purpose to illustrate some of Camus' existentialist ideas. This semester I used a portion of Dostoevsky's Brothers Karamazov to illustrate the problem of evil. I often refer to movies that students are likely to have seen to make points. (I am including television shows and movies as kinds of fiction.)
And yet, in many instances, fiction is not very realistic at all--at least in the sense of being an accurate reflection of how (we think) our world is. I am reminded of Tolkien's essay On Fairy Stories, the great portion of which he discusses the value and function of "fantasy" tales. (I use that word hesitatingly, but Tolkien would probably approve of it so long as it wasn't meant in a pejorative sense.) One of the strengths of what Tolkien calls Fantasy is Recovery--its ability to bring back to our attention those things that have become too familiar or trite from overexposure. This is achieved precisely because fantasy worlds are so different from our own.
In another account, a value of fiction is that it provides wealth of experiences that we ourselves could never possess in a lifetime. "In a month of reading, I can try out more lives than I could test in a lifetime" (Booth, The Company We Keep: An Ethics of Fiction). These experiences could be instructive for potentially similar situations that we might find ourselves in in the future. We do this by identifying with characters in fictional worlds. Yet, paradoxically, while drawing us in there is a sense in which fiction also keeps us out. We can never be those characters. There is a safety that fiction brings, a safety reflected in "trying out" the lives of characters.
The identification is not complete, nor can it be--nor, perhaps, should it be. One of the things that strikes me about a show like The Simpsons is that it can make clear what we shouldn't do in certain situations, usually by making the absurdity of the situations downright hilarious. Bart and Homer are perfect examples of what not to do in a particular situation (a fact that is lost on those who criticize the show for the bad examples these characters give for children and parents alike). The caricatures of the characters, far from being "realistic," serve all the more to highlight aspects of ourselves that we should either emulate or be wary of.
Interestingly, Christ used parables--a type of fiction--almost exclusively to teach His disciples and others. In them, we come across characters who we identify with and whose examples we should follow. But there are also characters whose examples we should not follow--and yet Christ's point was often that we can (and should) identify ourselves with them, as well! How many of us are like those who passed the wounded man on the side of the road, refusing to give aid? How many of us are like the man who, having been forgiven his debt, turn right around and demand "payment" for lesser "debts" to ourselves? There is value to such recourse to fiction, but, as Christ did with His dim disciples, it should be attended with (abstract) explanations of what the fictional accounts are supposed to be illustrations of for them to be most effective.
And yet, in many instances, fiction is not very realistic at all--at least in the sense of being an accurate reflection of how (we think) our world is. I am reminded of Tolkien's essay On Fairy Stories, the great portion of which he discusses the value and function of "fantasy" tales. (I use that word hesitatingly, but Tolkien would probably approve of it so long as it wasn't meant in a pejorative sense.) One of the strengths of what Tolkien calls Fantasy is Recovery--its ability to bring back to our attention those things that have become too familiar or trite from overexposure. This is achieved precisely because fantasy worlds are so different from our own.
"Fantasy is a natural human activity. It certainly does not destroy or even insult Reason; and it does not either blunt the appetite for, nor obscure the perception of, scientific verity. On the contrary. The keener and the clearer is the reason, the better fantasy will it make. . . . For creative Fantasy is founded upon the hard recognition that things are so in the world as it appears under the sun; on a recognition of fact, but not a slavery to it. So upon logic was founded the nonsense that displays itself in the tales and rhymes of Lewis Carroll. If men really could not distinguish between frogs and men, fairy-stories about frog-kings would not have arisen."Fantasy is a sub-type of fiction, one that presents a world that is purposefully different from our own; this isn't the case in any type of fiction, and so Tolkien's remarks should be qualified with regard to fiction in general. I think they can be qualified in this way: although fiction presents situations in a different world, however much like our own it is, that world is like ours in that situations occur in which characters respond in particular, determinate ways with the same sorts of emotional and intellectual responses. In so far as these fictional worlds do this, they can be instructive reflections.
In another account, a value of fiction is that it provides wealth of experiences that we ourselves could never possess in a lifetime. "In a month of reading, I can try out more lives than I could test in a lifetime" (Booth, The Company We Keep: An Ethics of Fiction). These experiences could be instructive for potentially similar situations that we might find ourselves in in the future. We do this by identifying with characters in fictional worlds. Yet, paradoxically, while drawing us in there is a sense in which fiction also keeps us out. We can never be those characters. There is a safety that fiction brings, a safety reflected in "trying out" the lives of characters.
The identification is not complete, nor can it be--nor, perhaps, should it be. One of the things that strikes me about a show like The Simpsons is that it can make clear what we shouldn't do in certain situations, usually by making the absurdity of the situations downright hilarious. Bart and Homer are perfect examples of what not to do in a particular situation (a fact that is lost on those who criticize the show for the bad examples these characters give for children and parents alike). The caricatures of the characters, far from being "realistic," serve all the more to highlight aspects of ourselves that we should either emulate or be wary of.
Interestingly, Christ used parables--a type of fiction--almost exclusively to teach His disciples and others. In them, we come across characters who we identify with and whose examples we should follow. But there are also characters whose examples we should not follow--and yet Christ's point was often that we can (and should) identify ourselves with them, as well! How many of us are like those who passed the wounded man on the side of the road, refusing to give aid? How many of us are like the man who, having been forgiven his debt, turn right around and demand "payment" for lesser "debts" to ourselves? There is value to such recourse to fiction, but, as Christ did with His dim disciples, it should be attended with (abstract) explanations of what the fictional accounts are supposed to be illustrations of for them to be most effective.
digging a hole
I was talking yesterday to our resident metaphysician in the department about a slippery topic we're going over in my metaphysics class right now that won't keep still long enough for me to understand it (to an extent necessary to teach it). Don't worry, I won't get into the details. Suffice it to say that he didn't know much more about it than I did. This is no point against him, of course, nor any point in my favor; no one can know a lot about everything in philosophy. (How's that for a sentence? (x)(y)(Px-->~Ky)) Anyway, we were talking about how difficult the content of my class was for a mid-level course (although he did say it was "good for them"--ha!).
"I usually cover material that doesn't require me to come up with a new lecture for every class," he says. Jeez, why didn't I think of that before! :) Seriously, though, one of these days maybe I'll smarten up and have a lot less prep time for my courses, i.e., start covering the same stuff. On the one hand, it will free me up for the reading and writing I also need to be doing outside of the courses. On the other hand, I don't want to get into a/the rut of teaching the same exact class every time. That's one reason why teaching at a place that has no philosophy major is so unappealing to me--I'm afraid of not being able to expand my teaching horizons.
As with most things, it is not a case of either/or but of both/and. There is something of a golden mean between these extremes, one that it would be profitable for me to find. One of these days I'll start looking.
Oh, and I figured out how to stop my watch from beeping on the hour. Yes, I'm a genius.
"I usually cover material that doesn't require me to come up with a new lecture for every class," he says. Jeez, why didn't I think of that before! :) Seriously, though, one of these days maybe I'll smarten up and have a lot less prep time for my courses, i.e., start covering the same stuff. On the one hand, it will free me up for the reading and writing I also need to be doing outside of the courses. On the other hand, I don't want to get into a/the rut of teaching the same exact class every time. That's one reason why teaching at a place that has no philosophy major is so unappealing to me--I'm afraid of not being able to expand my teaching horizons.
As with most things, it is not a case of either/or but of both/and. There is something of a golden mean between these extremes, one that it would be profitable for me to find. One of these days I'll start looking.
Oh, and I figured out how to stop my watch from beeping on the hour. Yes, I'm a genius.
9.20.2005
Hustle & Ho
Saw Hustle & Flow last night. I really liked it. It was well written, well directed, and well acted. Now, it's about a low class pimp in Memphis trying to achieve his dream of being a rap star, so there is a lot of explicit language and situations one might expect from a pimp with his three prostitutes living in the same apartment. But, perhaps amazingly, there weren't any sex scenes and only one very brief instance of nudity, which didn't even involve sexual suggestion. The focus was obviously on the main character, DJay, played by Terrence Howard (we share the same birthday, BTW), who did a superb job. Craig Brewer, the writer/director, did a great job of giving DJay a laudable depth of character while at the same time shying away from giving his character itself an obvious stamp of approval.
Admittedly, I haven't seen many "hip hop" movies (not sure how else to characterize them). I saw 8 Mile and thought it was pretty good. But Hustle & Flow had a much more raw, earthy, realistic feel to it, which I very much appreciated. (I think that's why I like films of the early and mid 1970s that were trying to bring about a sense of realism to the cinema not only in terms of subject matter but also in terms of cinematography and direction. The French Connection, for instance, was one of the first mainstream films, if not the first, to employ a camerman running on foot with the actors to shoot a scene. The documentary A Decade Under the Influence does an outstanding job of showing how that period was an intentional benchmark in American movie-making.) Unlike 8 Mile (what I remember of it, anyway), the movie doesn't show DJay actually making it big or becoming a widely recognized star in the rap scene, which only serves to underscore its primary focus on DJay's character--his struggles, his dreams, his mid-life crisis (!), and the lengths he would go to hustle whatever he needed to hustle (whether they be his girls or those already in the rap industry) in order to avert that crisis.
Oh, and the movie is funny, too. Breast-feeding catfish and Mormons in the hood. Word.
Admittedly, I haven't seen many "hip hop" movies (not sure how else to characterize them). I saw 8 Mile and thought it was pretty good. But Hustle & Flow had a much more raw, earthy, realistic feel to it, which I very much appreciated. (I think that's why I like films of the early and mid 1970s that were trying to bring about a sense of realism to the cinema not only in terms of subject matter but also in terms of cinematography and direction. The French Connection, for instance, was one of the first mainstream films, if not the first, to employ a camerman running on foot with the actors to shoot a scene. The documentary A Decade Under the Influence does an outstanding job of showing how that period was an intentional benchmark in American movie-making.) Unlike 8 Mile (what I remember of it, anyway), the movie doesn't show DJay actually making it big or becoming a widely recognized star in the rap scene, which only serves to underscore its primary focus on DJay's character--his struggles, his dreams, his mid-life crisis (!), and the lengths he would go to hustle whatever he needed to hustle (whether they be his girls or those already in the rap industry) in order to avert that crisis.
Oh, and the movie is funny, too. Breast-feeding catfish and Mormons in the hood. Word.
9.15.2005
Bela Legosi's...in Atlanta!
I bought a ticket today to the Bauhaus show in Atlanta in November. I can't wait! This will be their second reunion tour. Gotham, the 2-disc live album from their 1998 reunion tour (which I didn't know about until the Atlanta show was sold out) is outstanding. I can only hope this tour will be as good...
9.13.2005
Lettuce Talk For A Bit
To keep lettuce fresh and crisp, put it in a bowl of ice-water and store it in the fridge. You'll have to do a cost-benefit analysis yourself as to whether crisp Caesar salads are worth taking up precious room in the fridge. I can only lead you to the water. I can't make you drink the stuff.
Oh, and if you don't have one of those nifty lettuce spinners (they're like a Gravitron for lettuce ... hopefully they won't get ejected from the contraption), just place some pieces of paper towel in a bowl along with the rinsed lettuce and toss. That should soak up most of the moisture. Make sure the pieces of paper towel are big, or else they might get lost. Mmmm, grilled chicken and wet paper salad!
Oh, and if you don't have one of those nifty lettuce spinners (they're like a Gravitron for lettuce ... hopefully they won't get ejected from the contraption), just place some pieces of paper towel in a bowl along with the rinsed lettuce and toss. That should soak up most of the moisture. Make sure the pieces of paper towel are big, or else they might get lost. Mmmm, grilled chicken and wet paper salad!
9.12.2005
For the past couple of years I've been doing a weekly bible study at local halfway house kind of place for drug and alcohol addicts. The guys that (voluntarily) come in go through a pretty strict 90-day program, during which they are required to come to the bible study. When I was asked to do it, I wasn't sure how it would work out. I mean, how would I relate to these guys? I've never even been close to being addicted to drugs or alcohol. I'm a philosophy PhD and most of these guys have never been to college. And so on.
But the more I spent time with them, the more I realized a number of things. For the most part, they don't know their bibles. They want someone to go through the scriptures with them and give it to them straight. There is very little theological baggage to work through with these guys. So, I'm able to tell it to them straight, even if it's not what they (or I) want to hear. It is so refreshing to just be able to do that in a bible study! I love it. And they don't seem to mind. I think it is refreshing to them, too. (Some of them have even taken to calling me "Preacher" or some such nonsense. I tell them that if they have to call me something, which they seem overly fond of doing, to call me "Rabbi," since I'm only a teacher. HA!)
But another thing I realized early on was how much I have in common with them. Lest we begin to think too highly of ourselves (1 Cor. 10:12), we should understand that sin is very much like addiction. In an excellent book I've been reading on addiction, the author makes the similar claim that not only is sin like addiction, but the root of addiction is sin. It is a worship problem in which we put our own desires and pleasures above God. Addiction is sin that has gone too far, sin that enslaves us, sin that we've made friends with. (I am also reminded of the similar descriptions that John Owen gives of sin in his Mortification of Sin.) I've been going over Romans 6 and 7 in the bible study for a few weeks now. There Paul gives an excellent description of the addict:
But the more I spent time with them, the more I realized a number of things. For the most part, they don't know their bibles. They want someone to go through the scriptures with them and give it to them straight. There is very little theological baggage to work through with these guys. So, I'm able to tell it to them straight, even if it's not what they (or I) want to hear. It is so refreshing to just be able to do that in a bible study! I love it. And they don't seem to mind. I think it is refreshing to them, too. (Some of them have even taken to calling me "Preacher" or some such nonsense. I tell them that if they have to call me something, which they seem overly fond of doing, to call me "Rabbi," since I'm only a teacher. HA!)
But another thing I realized early on was how much I have in common with them. Lest we begin to think too highly of ourselves (1 Cor. 10:12), we should understand that sin is very much like addiction. In an excellent book I've been reading on addiction, the author makes the similar claim that not only is sin like addiction, but the root of addiction is sin. It is a worship problem in which we put our own desires and pleasures above God. Addiction is sin that has gone too far, sin that enslaves us, sin that we've made friends with. (I am also reminded of the similar descriptions that John Owen gives of sin in his Mortification of Sin.) I've been going over Romans 6 and 7 in the bible study for a few weeks now. There Paul gives an excellent description of the addict:
For the good I wish, I do not do; but I practice the very evil that I do not wish (7:19)But this is also a description of the Christian! There is a war going on inside of us. What will save us from this deep-seated tension? Alcoholics Anonymous? Narcotics Anonymous? That's not what Paul says.
Wretched man that I am! Who will set me free from the body of this death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord! (7:24, 25)Only Christ can free us from such bondage. Having been freed from sin through Christ, we become slaves to God (6:18, 22). We have a different master now: no longer sin, leading to death, but God, leading to eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord (6:23). This is what they need to hear. This is what we need to hear.
Time to Kill
I can't get my new $6 watch to stop it's annoying BEEP on the hour (every hour). I guess it wasn't expensive enough to actually come with instructions. Not that it's complicated enough to need them...
Freakin' Awesome
Have you ever heard a 4 year old girl use "freakin'" as an adverb in a sentence (in the same vein of Napoleon Dynamite)? It's so cute, even if a bit unsettling (at least for the parents).
9.11.2005
The Opinions of Pigs
Here's another nice nugget from J. S.:
"It is better to be a human being dissatisfied than a pig satisfied; better to be a Socrates dissatisfied than a fool satisfied. And if the fool, or the pig, are of a different opinion, it is because they only know their own side of the question."
(The context here is Mill's defense of qualitatively different kinds of pleasure. An objection against utilitarianism is that it is "a doctrine worthy only of swine" in that it makes the promotion of pleasure an ethical standard. Mill responds that the objection has only base pleasures in view, whereas humans are capable of "higher" pleasures of the intellect, of feelings, and of imagination. These higher pleasures are qualitatively superior to the lower pleasures of sensation, even when the higher pleasures are more difficult to achieve, and, consequently, are attended by pains of various kinds. So, Mill reasons, it is better to be seeking after these higher pleasures, even when the lower ones are not satisfied, than to be seeking after and be satisfied by only the lower pleasures. How do we know which ones are the higher and which the lower pleasures? Take someone who has had genuine experience of both. Whichever ones they would consistently choose as being better are the qualitatively superior ones. The opinions of pigs and fools don't count.)
Oh, Mill, You Slay Me
"There is no difficulty in proving any ethical standard whatever to work ill if we suppose universal idiocy to be conjoined with it."-- John Stuart Mill
(In the wider context of this passage, Mill is answering an objection against utilitarianism. Simpl[istical]y, utilitarianism claims that an action's being right or wrong depends on whether the consequences of the action will bring about more pleasure than pain. The objection to this is that, practically speaking, there is not enough time prior to an action to do all the necessary calculations of pleasure/pain in order to come to a decision about the action's ethical value. Mill responds with an analogy: the same objection could be made against Christianity that, insofar as its ethical standard is the Bible, we don't have time to read the entire Bible prior to deciding whether a particular action is right or wrong. It is absurd to ignore the fact that for "the whole past duration of the human species" people have used the Bible to come up with a host of ethical rules of conduct that others can follow without having to be acquainted at every turn with the entire Bible. If we suppose that during this whole time people have been too idiotic to be able to come up with such rules, then the objection stands.)
9.07.2005
Cell Phone Hackers?
Checked my cell phone bill online today and had $6.00 worth of charges from downloads that I didn't make. Apparently I downloaded ringer tones a week ago Sunday at 12:25am, 12:27am, 1:01am, and 1:45am. Yeah right. Even though I am sometimes up at that hour (sometimes even on the eve of Sunday worship), I have certainly not been spending that time downloading ring tones! And, apparently not getting enough, I downloaded two more on Monday at 5:06pm and 5:08pm. Good grief. The download log on my cell phone doesn't show that I downloaded anything at those times. I don't have any new rings on my cell phone. What the heck is going on??
So, I call Customer Service and talk to a nice lady in Billing. She says that the records show that these downloads came from my phone. Yeah, no kidding. THAT'S WHY I AM CALLING YOU! She says that they don't download themselves and someone must've downloaded them. "Who did I lend my cell phone to?" I ask myself. No one at 1:00 in the morning! Who even has access to my phone then?? No one. She puts me on hold and has someone in Technical Assistance do something to check and see if these downloads did, in fact, have their source in my phone. She comes back, assuring me that they did. I'm speechless. What evidence could I possibly give to dissuade her? My word (a potential trickster trying to get his $6.00 back) against theirs. She can't do squat for me, except block any future downloads. I tell her that sounds like a good idea.
So, I hang up, pick up the phone, and go straight to Technical Assistance. I explain my situation to the punk on the other end. He's no help, either. Someone must've downloaded them, he says. Does anyone else have access to your phone, he asks. "No, I have my phone with me (nearly) all the time, and I live alone," I say. I tell him there is no record of these downloads and no new ring tones on my phone. They could have been deleted, he says. "Okay, so you're suggesting the possibility that someone came into my locked apartment at 1:00 in the morning, downloaded some ring tones for fun without my waking up, and then deleted them from my phone??" I query. I'm not suggesting anything, sir..., he whines. I am not believing this. Trying to look on the bright side and calm me down (I'm getting rather short of patience at this point), he notes that at least the charges only came to $6.00. Thanks, but no thanks. The point is that, however much they cost, I shouldn't have to pay for downloads that I didn't make, I explain. But I'm not in Billing, he says. We only deal with the technical side, he whines. Yes, I patiently continue, and the reason why Billing is billing me is because you guys are telling them that I downloaded something that I didn't download! He doesn't seem to see the connection.
I want to know how this could happen. Is it possible for someone to download something to his (or her, for that matter) phone and it be charged to my number? I asked the TA guy this question. He seemed to think it wasn't possible. "But our records show...." Yeah, I KNOW WHAT YOUR STINKIN' RECORDS SHOW! I'm trying to come up with reasonable explanations (ones that don't involve people downloading and then deleting things with my phone!) for what happened, and he's telling me what the records show. Jeez. Their records only show phone numbers where the downloads originate. Couldn't they tap into what is actually on my phone and see that I don't have these things, I ask. But they can be deleted, he repeats. I can see this is getting nowhere. Exasperated, I say my last heated words and then hang up on him.
I was doing some looking around online to look into the possibility of charging downloads to another phone number. I haven't found anything like that yet, but I have found some enticing ways to get costly downloads and web phone service for free. In my state, this is not something I needed to find...
So, I call Customer Service and talk to a nice lady in Billing. She says that the records show that these downloads came from my phone. Yeah, no kidding. THAT'S WHY I AM CALLING YOU! She says that they don't download themselves and someone must've downloaded them. "Who did I lend my cell phone to?" I ask myself. No one at 1:00 in the morning! Who even has access to my phone then?? No one. She puts me on hold and has someone in Technical Assistance do something to check and see if these downloads did, in fact, have their source in my phone. She comes back, assuring me that they did. I'm speechless. What evidence could I possibly give to dissuade her? My word (a potential trickster trying to get his $6.00 back) against theirs. She can't do squat for me, except block any future downloads. I tell her that sounds like a good idea.
So, I hang up, pick up the phone, and go straight to Technical Assistance. I explain my situation to the punk on the other end. He's no help, either. Someone must've downloaded them, he says. Does anyone else have access to your phone, he asks. "No, I have my phone with me (nearly) all the time, and I live alone," I say. I tell him there is no record of these downloads and no new ring tones on my phone. They could have been deleted, he says. "Okay, so you're suggesting the possibility that someone came into my locked apartment at 1:00 in the morning, downloaded some ring tones for fun without my waking up, and then deleted them from my phone??" I query. I'm not suggesting anything, sir..., he whines. I am not believing this. Trying to look on the bright side and calm me down (I'm getting rather short of patience at this point), he notes that at least the charges only came to $6.00. Thanks, but no thanks. The point is that, however much they cost, I shouldn't have to pay for downloads that I didn't make, I explain. But I'm not in Billing, he says. We only deal with the technical side, he whines. Yes, I patiently continue, and the reason why Billing is billing me is because you guys are telling them that I downloaded something that I didn't download! He doesn't seem to see the connection.
I want to know how this could happen. Is it possible for someone to download something to his (or her, for that matter) phone and it be charged to my number? I asked the TA guy this question. He seemed to think it wasn't possible. "But our records show...." Yeah, I KNOW WHAT YOUR STINKIN' RECORDS SHOW! I'm trying to come up with reasonable explanations (ones that don't involve people downloading and then deleting things with my phone!) for what happened, and he's telling me what the records show. Jeez. Their records only show phone numbers where the downloads originate. Couldn't they tap into what is actually on my phone and see that I don't have these things, I ask. But they can be deleted, he repeats. I can see this is getting nowhere. Exasperated, I say my last heated words and then hang up on him.
I was doing some looking around online to look into the possibility of charging downloads to another phone number. I haven't found anything like that yet, but I have found some enticing ways to get costly downloads and web phone service for free. In my state, this is not something I needed to find...
9.04.2005
Communion and Worship
Every six weeks or so I help the deacon on duty at the church get things together for Sunday School and Worship: making coffee, getting the communion bread and juice prepared (alas! no wine ... but at least it's weekly communion--if I had to choose between wine and weekly, this would definitely be the choice I'd make), handing out orders of worship, counting tithes and offerings, etc. Because there is much to do before, during, and after the service, we don't really get to participate in worship. One thing we do during worship is help get extra communion juice to those distributing it--we have more people attending the service than we have cups for the six trays we keep on the table up front. So, we're in there during communion and are always offered the bread and juice. I always take it. I took it today.
In the past, I have never been inclined to refuse it. What qualifies me to receive the "body and blood" of Christ? I am His. I am a member of His body. In partaking, I commune with Christ and with His people. But today was different. Today I was inclined to refuse it. Not because I was doubting my identity in Christ. Not because I felt particularly disconnected from either Christ or this body of believers. But I was inclined to refuse the elements for the same reason that I don't offer my tithes/offerings while on deacon duty: such an offering is a part of worship, and I am not part of worship when on duty. I am not a part of the covenant community in praising our Creator and Redeemer in song, in publicly confessing my sin with my dear brothers and sisters, in hearing the Word preached, etc. Putting my money in the bag after the offerings have been taken up seems to view tithing much more as a practical affair and much less as an act of worship, which it (the latter) is first and foremost. This morning I started applying this reasoning to partaking of communion, and it took me to a place I didn't want to go.
I haven't thought that much more about it. But I want to. I partook of communion this morning because the feeling that a refusal of the elements would be along the lines of a refusal of my identity in Christ and in His body was stronger than the feeling that this was an act of worship that I had not been a participant in until that point. Of course, a couple of things could be said about the two options that I presented myself. On the one hand, not everyone who refuses to partake of the elements is doing it because they are rejecting their covenantal identity; on the other hand, people who come in late, say, after the initial praising of God in hymns and the communal confession of faith, are from that point on a legitimate part of the worship and should be a part of it.
Concerning the first point, the only time you shouldn't voluntarily partake of the body and blood should be if you refuse to stake your identity in Christ and His body (I say "voluntarily" to account for cases of church discipline, in which the refusal is decided by someone else). So, if you are not partaking because you "don't feel worthy" or "haven't been a good Christian last week" or something along those lines, you are simply refusing the grace offered in this act of worship of which you obviously are in dire need. You need to be reminded by the very act of partaking that your worthiness does not come from your feelings or from how good you were last week. It comes from Christ, on Whom you are feeding freely, Who is your very sustenance.
Concerning the second point, while we should strive to see all of the service as a unified act of worship (or specific acts of worship presented as a unity), it seems a different thing to be in worship from one point after the beginning until the very end and to be coming in and out of parts of the worship service. Can it really be said of the latter (which was my situation this morning) that I was part of the worship? I have my doubts, but I haven't spent the time reasoning out why I have the doubts. Part of it stems from viewing the worship service as a unity and not as acts independent of one another. This notion of independence seems key. Historically/Traditionally (not sure which of those to use here) we put so much emphasis on the Word of God (and rightly so!), that the preaching of the Word becomes central. So, in our minds, we (including myself) have a tendency to see that as the important part and the other parts as expendable. "As long as I'm there for the sermon, I'm good." That attitude just seems downright problematic. Worship is not a fix. We are not there for ourselves--in this case, to learn something from the sermon, to catch a tidbit that we hope we can remember until next week. We are there to give ourselves to God and to receive the grace offered in that giving. This includes our songs, our sins, our hearts, souls, and minds. The worship service is a unit with a call-and-response pattern--God calls, we respond.
It may seem like I have devolved into theological nitpicking about worship, but this has practical consequences for whether or not I should take the bread and juice when I have not been a participant in the unity of the service. If I do, am I (unintenionally, in this case) treating the service as a buffet line? "Oh, yes, I'll have one of these, and Ooo! I like those, but none of that, thank you, not good for the digestion, you know." I am absolutely committed to my place in Christ and in His body, but is this blinding me to the bigger picture of the worship service?
In the past, I have never been inclined to refuse it. What qualifies me to receive the "body and blood" of Christ? I am His. I am a member of His body. In partaking, I commune with Christ and with His people. But today was different. Today I was inclined to refuse it. Not because I was doubting my identity in Christ. Not because I felt particularly disconnected from either Christ or this body of believers. But I was inclined to refuse the elements for the same reason that I don't offer my tithes/offerings while on deacon duty: such an offering is a part of worship, and I am not part of worship when on duty. I am not a part of the covenant community in praising our Creator and Redeemer in song, in publicly confessing my sin with my dear brothers and sisters, in hearing the Word preached, etc. Putting my money in the bag after the offerings have been taken up seems to view tithing much more as a practical affair and much less as an act of worship, which it (the latter) is first and foremost. This morning I started applying this reasoning to partaking of communion, and it took me to a place I didn't want to go.
I haven't thought that much more about it. But I want to. I partook of communion this morning because the feeling that a refusal of the elements would be along the lines of a refusal of my identity in Christ and in His body was stronger than the feeling that this was an act of worship that I had not been a participant in until that point. Of course, a couple of things could be said about the two options that I presented myself. On the one hand, not everyone who refuses to partake of the elements is doing it because they are rejecting their covenantal identity; on the other hand, people who come in late, say, after the initial praising of God in hymns and the communal confession of faith, are from that point on a legitimate part of the worship and should be a part of it.
Concerning the first point, the only time you shouldn't voluntarily partake of the body and blood should be if you refuse to stake your identity in Christ and His body (I say "voluntarily" to account for cases of church discipline, in which the refusal is decided by someone else). So, if you are not partaking because you "don't feel worthy" or "haven't been a good Christian last week" or something along those lines, you are simply refusing the grace offered in this act of worship of which you obviously are in dire need. You need to be reminded by the very act of partaking that your worthiness does not come from your feelings or from how good you were last week. It comes from Christ, on Whom you are feeding freely, Who is your very sustenance.
Concerning the second point, while we should strive to see all of the service as a unified act of worship (or specific acts of worship presented as a unity), it seems a different thing to be in worship from one point after the beginning until the very end and to be coming in and out of parts of the worship service. Can it really be said of the latter (which was my situation this morning) that I was part of the worship? I have my doubts, but I haven't spent the time reasoning out why I have the doubts. Part of it stems from viewing the worship service as a unity and not as acts independent of one another. This notion of independence seems key. Historically/Traditionally (not sure which of those to use here) we put so much emphasis on the Word of God (and rightly so!), that the preaching of the Word becomes central. So, in our minds, we (including myself) have a tendency to see that as the important part and the other parts as expendable. "As long as I'm there for the sermon, I'm good." That attitude just seems downright problematic. Worship is not a fix. We are not there for ourselves--in this case, to learn something from the sermon, to catch a tidbit that we hope we can remember until next week. We are there to give ourselves to God and to receive the grace offered in that giving. This includes our songs, our sins, our hearts, souls, and minds. The worship service is a unit with a call-and-response pattern--God calls, we respond.
It may seem like I have devolved into theological nitpicking about worship, but this has practical consequences for whether or not I should take the bread and juice when I have not been a participant in the unity of the service. If I do, am I (unintenionally, in this case) treating the service as a buffet line? "Oh, yes, I'll have one of these, and Ooo! I like those, but none of that, thank you, not good for the digestion, you know." I am absolutely committed to my place in Christ and in His body, but is this blinding me to the bigger picture of the worship service?
Mmmm...Hard Cider
Friday I brewed up a hard cider. It's fermenting like a good boy right now. Of the tasty adult beverages one can make, it's one of the easiest. Not nearly as labor- and time-intensive as beer or wine. I did something a little different--and risky--this time: I put some orange in it. I think I put too much. Don't ask me why I thought that would be a good thing. I'm not even sure it will be. We'll see in about a month, once it gets kegged and mellows nicely. My past ciders have been praised by cider lovers. I can only hope that this one will be of similar quality.
9.01.2005
To Rebuild Or Not To Rebuild
Until reading this, I figured that rebuilding New Orleans was an inevitability. Earlier today, Hastert (House Speaker) was quoted as saying that NOLA shouldn't be rebuilt. Now, he seems to be qualifying his statements a little bit (or at least putting them in proper context) in terms of how much federal aid should be given to a place below sea level by the sea.
The Evil of Katrina
Having family in the Jackson, MS area (it was still Hurricane Katrina when it passed Jackson) and a dear friend in New Orleans, I've been keeping up some with the news in those parts but haven't really had the chance to post much about it. Reading The Times Picayune's blog for the past few days has been quite sobering. With all of the flooding, looting, killing, martial law, SWAT teams, and floating dead bodies stories going around, it becomes a bit shocking, too. My brother and his family are still without power (and likely will be for weeks), but my parents got power last night. Everyone is fine, no damage to houses, etc. The MS Gulf Coast didn't fare so well. Casinos pushed up on land--one straddling Highway 90, another sitting atop a Holiday Inn. Almost nothing but slabs where houses once stood from 1/2 mile to a mile inland. (You can find some video footage of the areas hit here.)
But I'm certain the news will not be so good for my friend, who has been working for years in New Orleans as a teacher at Desire Street Academy. I haven't been able to get in touch with him as of yet, but my brother and sister-in-law tell me that he took some of the DSA boys (not sure about their families) up to Twin Lakes camp (a ministry of First Presbyterian Church, PCA, Jackson). I've been told that the boys have since been housed by families willing to take them in for the time being. The 9th Ward, where Desire Street Academy is/was, was close to where the Industrial Canal levee breached and where a lot of the rooftop rescues were taking place. (Here is an article that has a video link explaining the 17th Street Canal breach.)
Ah, but now let us get down to doing some philosophy. At least one good thing coming out of Katrina's destruction and mayhem is that it furnishes fresh examples of natural evil and moral evil, types of evil used to argue against God's existence (here is one encyclopedic article on "The Problem of Evil" argument--Section 1.1 gives the shortest version; sometimes a distinction is also made between the evidential problem and the logical problem). I'll be talking about this problem in my Intro class in a couple of weeks.
Basically, the logical or theoretical problem is that if God is all-powerful, He could stop evil; if He is all-good, He would want to stop evil; if He is all-knowing, He would know when and where evil occurs. But since evil exists/there is evil in the world, He is lacking one of those properties and, therefore, this kind of God does not exist. The question that something like Katrina's aftermath bids us ask is, Is such destruction compatible with God's existence?
Thinking about the problem only in terms of these three attributes of God narrows the argument quite a bit. In a post-Fall world, account must be taken of both the natural and moral effects of sin. After all, the ground was cursed (Gen. 3:17) and longs for restoration (Rom. 8:20-22), and there was the introduction of enmity among mankind (e.g., Cain and Abel). But does the cursing of the ground also include in its scope such things as tornados, hurricanes, earthquakes, and the like? Would these have been the result of "natural laws" that God put in place at Creation, of a world that God called "good"? Perhaps. Regardless, it is clear that God not only Himself cursed the ground (and all the things that entails), but also that He uses such means to accomplish certain ends. He sent a flood to destroy everyone except 8 people (Gen. 6:13; 2 Pt. 2:5); He rained fire and brimstone down on an entire city (Gen. 19); He used the earth to swallow up blasphemers (Num. 16:31-35); etc.
The point here is that even if these natural disasters (insurance policies used to--maybe still do--put these and other things under the heading "acts of God") are, in fact, natural, it does not "excuse" God. He is not a deistic God who set up Mother Nature and then left it to run its course. He is intimately involved in the world; He is in total control. So, we could add "sovereign" or "all-controlling" to our list of divine attributes. We could also add "all-just" to the list, at the very least since the above examples from scripture are all cases where God responded to the sins of man. But this only puts the ball farther in God's court. If He is all-controlling, then there is some real sense in which He sends disasters on the world (and the people in it). And this doesn't seem like the just thing to do!
A "free will defense" of God is sometimes offered in response to the problem of evil. This touches on moral evil (rather than natural evil): evil that results from our doing bad things to one another. The idea here is that God gives us free will, but we just happen to do bad things with it--like looting stores after a hurricane, or shooting a cop in the head because he tries to stop us from looting. What kind of God would it be, the defense goes, if he kept getting in the way of our free will, especially since He made us that way? And, yet, He could stop it being all-powerful and all-controlling. But He doesn't. This just doesn't seem to be compatible with His nature. It just doesn't seem right.
In fact, it seems downright cruel. It doesn't seem like something a good designer would allow. How could God allow so many people in NOLA and on the MS Gulf Coast to be homeless for months, to have nothing to go back to, to have loved ones die? These are real evils. We shouldn't try to escape this fact and make such evil out to be less than what it is.
I have been talking about the problem of evil as a logical problem: the existence of God and the existence of evil are inconsistent with one another. One way out is to deny one, some, or all of the attributes of God that I've laid out. I will certainly not take that route. Another way out is to deny the reality of evil. That's out of the question, as well. What, then? The real core of the problem, I think, is not logical but epistemological and psychological. It is psychological in the sense that it is emotionally very difficult to deal with the cruelties we see and the often horrific effects of natural disasters such as Katrina. It is hard to find any rationale for them. And here is where the epistemological issue enters--we can't know or figure out why things like this happen. We cannot comprehend any sort of rationale for these things whatsoever. For the unbeliever, this is where the road ends. Ignorance without hope.
But for the believer, we have a God who has a sufficient reason for allowing and for bringing about the evil in the world--we just don't always know what that reason is. We are called to trust in this God, even in the face of the psychological and epistemological difficulties. So long as God has a sufficient rationale for the evil in the world, there is no longer an inconsistency. The problem is not a logical one for the believer. But we don't have to know or be able to give the rationale in order for this to be the case. We, like the unbeliever, also live in ignorance of many things...but we have hope and confidence. The unbeliever's hope is a false one. The unbeliever's confidence is groundless.
Alright! At least I have my lecture notes for that class done now...
But I'm certain the news will not be so good for my friend, who has been working for years in New Orleans as a teacher at Desire Street Academy. I haven't been able to get in touch with him as of yet, but my brother and sister-in-law tell me that he took some of the DSA boys (not sure about their families) up to Twin Lakes camp (a ministry of First Presbyterian Church, PCA, Jackson). I've been told that the boys have since been housed by families willing to take them in for the time being. The 9th Ward, where Desire Street Academy is/was, was close to where the Industrial Canal levee breached and where a lot of the rooftop rescues were taking place. (Here is an article that has a video link explaining the 17th Street Canal breach.)
Ah, but now let us get down to doing some philosophy. At least one good thing coming out of Katrina's destruction and mayhem is that it furnishes fresh examples of natural evil and moral evil, types of evil used to argue against God's existence (here is one encyclopedic article on "The Problem of Evil" argument--Section 1.1 gives the shortest version; sometimes a distinction is also made between the evidential problem and the logical problem). I'll be talking about this problem in my Intro class in a couple of weeks.
Basically, the logical or theoretical problem is that if God is all-powerful, He could stop evil; if He is all-good, He would want to stop evil; if He is all-knowing, He would know when and where evil occurs. But since evil exists/there is evil in the world, He is lacking one of those properties and, therefore, this kind of God does not exist. The question that something like Katrina's aftermath bids us ask is, Is such destruction compatible with God's existence?
Thinking about the problem only in terms of these three attributes of God narrows the argument quite a bit. In a post-Fall world, account must be taken of both the natural and moral effects of sin. After all, the ground was cursed (Gen. 3:17) and longs for restoration (Rom. 8:20-22), and there was the introduction of enmity among mankind (e.g., Cain and Abel). But does the cursing of the ground also include in its scope such things as tornados, hurricanes, earthquakes, and the like? Would these have been the result of "natural laws" that God put in place at Creation, of a world that God called "good"? Perhaps. Regardless, it is clear that God not only Himself cursed the ground (and all the things that entails), but also that He uses such means to accomplish certain ends. He sent a flood to destroy everyone except 8 people (Gen. 6:13; 2 Pt. 2:5); He rained fire and brimstone down on an entire city (Gen. 19); He used the earth to swallow up blasphemers (Num. 16:31-35); etc.
The point here is that even if these natural disasters (insurance policies used to--maybe still do--put these and other things under the heading "acts of God") are, in fact, natural, it does not "excuse" God. He is not a deistic God who set up Mother Nature and then left it to run its course. He is intimately involved in the world; He is in total control. So, we could add "sovereign" or "all-controlling" to our list of divine attributes. We could also add "all-just" to the list, at the very least since the above examples from scripture are all cases where God responded to the sins of man. But this only puts the ball farther in God's court. If He is all-controlling, then there is some real sense in which He sends disasters on the world (and the people in it). And this doesn't seem like the just thing to do!
A "free will defense" of God is sometimes offered in response to the problem of evil. This touches on moral evil (rather than natural evil): evil that results from our doing bad things to one another. The idea here is that God gives us free will, but we just happen to do bad things with it--like looting stores after a hurricane, or shooting a cop in the head because he tries to stop us from looting. What kind of God would it be, the defense goes, if he kept getting in the way of our free will, especially since He made us that way? And, yet, He could stop it being all-powerful and all-controlling. But He doesn't. This just doesn't seem to be compatible with His nature. It just doesn't seem right.
In fact, it seems downright cruel. It doesn't seem like something a good designer would allow. How could God allow so many people in NOLA and on the MS Gulf Coast to be homeless for months, to have nothing to go back to, to have loved ones die? These are real evils. We shouldn't try to escape this fact and make such evil out to be less than what it is.
I have been talking about the problem of evil as a logical problem: the existence of God and the existence of evil are inconsistent with one another. One way out is to deny one, some, or all of the attributes of God that I've laid out. I will certainly not take that route. Another way out is to deny the reality of evil. That's out of the question, as well. What, then? The real core of the problem, I think, is not logical but epistemological and psychological. It is psychological in the sense that it is emotionally very difficult to deal with the cruelties we see and the often horrific effects of natural disasters such as Katrina. It is hard to find any rationale for them. And here is where the epistemological issue enters--we can't know or figure out why things like this happen. We cannot comprehend any sort of rationale for these things whatsoever. For the unbeliever, this is where the road ends. Ignorance without hope.
But for the believer, we have a God who has a sufficient reason for allowing and for bringing about the evil in the world--we just don't always know what that reason is. We are called to trust in this God, even in the face of the psychological and epistemological difficulties. So long as God has a sufficient rationale for the evil in the world, there is no longer an inconsistency. The problem is not a logical one for the believer. But we don't have to know or be able to give the rationale in order for this to be the case. We, like the unbeliever, also live in ignorance of many things...but we have hope and confidence. The unbeliever's hope is a false one. The unbeliever's confidence is groundless.
Alright! At least I have my lecture notes for that class done now...
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