Luke 24:44-53
24:44 Then he said to them, "These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you--that everything written about me in the law of Moses, the prophets, and the psalms must be fulfilled."
24:45 Then he opened their minds to understand the scriptures, 24:46 and he said to them, "Thus it is written, that the Messiah is to suffer and to rise from the dead on the third day, 24:47 and that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem.
24:48 You are witnesses of these things. 24:49 And see, I am sending upon you what my Father promised; so stay here in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high." 24:50 Then he led them out as far as Bethany, and, lifting up his hands, he blessed them. 24:51 While he was blessing them, he withdrew from them and was carried up into heaven. 24:52 And they worshiped him, and returned to Jerusalem with great joy; 24:53 and they were continually in the temple blessing God.
I've spent this week thinking over the theme of all of this week's readings about the Ascension. I had nothing. I even typed up a post about how I had nothing and wrestling with those moments went t he Bible just doesn't speak to me. When I'm not moved by the words I read, and how that's always a trying moment for my faith, because I've always been raised to believe the Bible should speak to us, and while it usually does, when it doesn't, the silence is deafening.
That post was sarcastic, a little bitter, a little sad, and also contained some cliche' cynical commentary about Jesus leaving us having to have faith, because having Him still on the Earth providing absolute proof would just be too easy.
That's when it hit me. The Ascension is about faith. Not in the cynical way I was thinking, though. Not in the, "God's going to remove the proof so you have to have faith in Him" way, although there is a hint of that. No, the Ascension is about faith of a different kind. It's about Jesus having faith in us. The Ascension is the moment when Daddy Jesus, having ran with us on our bike halfway up the driveway, releases us to let us try to find our own balance. He's guided us, told us how to do things, and now we have to keep going. Just like the dad with the bike, Jesus hasn't gone far, and we can still feel the balance He imparted on us. He still yells encouragement, and will help us get up if we fall. Still, the opportunity for us to ride free is still there. He's giving us the chance to stand on our own.
So, this Ascension Week, remember, Jesus Ascended because He had faith in us to handle matters down here. I hope we can live up to His trust in us. I'm pretty sure we can, because I believe in Him, and if He believes in me, then I guess it's about time I started believing in me as well.
Friday, May 30, 2014
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
The Spirit of Jesus's Commands
I've been procrastinating on this one. John 14:15 is one of those verses that sometimes makes me cringe. I know we're not supposed to admit that any Bible verses make us cringe or aren't our favorites, however, I'm trying to be honest and confront these verses as they come, and that means owning my biases. In John 14:15, Jesus says something, that, in many ways, seem simple. He says that if we love Him, we are to keep his commands. Why would that cause me such problem? To answer that, I need to give some background on myself and my beliefs regarding Jesus in general.
I was raised in the Southern Baptist church, raised to believe in the Bible, and in a mostly literal interpretive framework. I went to a Catholic high school for academic reasons, before majoring in philosophy and religion at Cumberland College (now University of the Cumberlands) in southeastern Kentucky, which is a SBC affiliated school. Throughout my adolescence, I went throughout a process of liberalization when it came to my theology. One of the places that started was noticing how, time and time again, Jesus emphasized an attitude of love over a rigid adherence to rules. I've tried to apply the general ethic Jesus embodied to the problems of today, rather than searching verse by verse for clues as to how one Biblical writer or another might have believed on an issue.
During college I began to advance this idea in classroom discussions, papers, and other places. The idea that Jesus calls us to an ethics, and not a set of rules. While it was rare to get outright hostility towards the notion, there was always a hint of caution in the response. It usually involved people indicating that there would never be any disagreement between the perfect rules of God and an ethic of love, and John 14:15 was the verse cited. You see, this verse, I was told, tells us that loving God means keeping His commandments, and therefore, an ethic of love is really the same thing as an ethic of following the rules. That was an idea that never sat well with me. I mean, hadn't they read the Gospels. Didn't they see Jesus time and time again flout the rules in favor of healing, or caring for people's needs, in the name of love. Each time, they had an explanation, about how the REAL rule said to do/not do X, and Jesus did Y, which was similar to X, but not exactly X, so the lesson isn't really about the relationship between people and rules, but about the precise definition of the rules.
I got frustrated. I felt like people were missing the forest for the trees. Did they really think Jesus's ministry was about refining the rules? cthey see that every word He said was about love, and not directed at commands, but about an inward attitude? He summed up the entire Law in two commands about love. Did people really think He did that, just so He could then bizarrely redefine love as following the law?
So, that's my baggage when I look at this week's passage, John 14: 15-21:
“If you love me, keep my commands. 16 And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another advocate to help you and be with you forever— 17 the Spirit of truth. The world cannot accept him, because it neither sees him nor knows him. But you know him, for he lives with you and will be[c] in you. 18 I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you. 19 Before long, the world will not see me anymore, but you will see me. Because I live, you also will live. 20 On that day you will realize that I am in my Father, and you are in me, and I am in you. 21 Whoever has my commands and keeps them is the one who loves me. The one who loves me will be loved by my Father, and I too will love them and show myself to them.”
As I was trying to look at this passage with fresh eyes, and tried to free myself of the baggage I mentioned, I found myself asking a question, one that I had always assumed had an obvious answer: "What ARE Jesus's commands." The presumed answer to that question throughout my childhood was simple, the commands of Jesus are the commands of all of the Bible, because the whole Bible is His Word, right?
What if we don't make that assumption, though? After all, Jesus was speaking to His disciples while He was still on Earth. Most of them were illiterate and barely knew the Old Testament, and the New Testament hadn't been written yet. So, maybe He was just talking about the things He told them were commands.
Based on that, I tried to do a quick survey of the commands of Jesus. There are many lists online that list anywhere from fifty commands to hundreds. Some seem to think that every time Jesus opened His mouth it was a command. I tried to look up when he used the word "command" (brief English search, not thorough, and no Greek scholarship, here), and I came up with only a couple of results. There was His description of the two great commandments, to Love God and Love Neighbor. There was also one chapter earlier, the only time He clearly enunciated a new command, telling them to love one another as He had loved them. Okay. So, maybe the commands of Jesus aren't as big a list of rules as I thought. Perhaps Jesus's "command" was the ethic of love I believed in all along.
Then Jesus does something interesting: He begins His famous promise about sending the Spirit. This is the set of verses that has launched Trinitarian doctrine more than any other. I've heard them preached on, discussed, expounded, read, and recited hundreds if not thousands of time, yet I rarely hear them in conjunction with the verse on commands. Usually the verse on commands is one sermon, and the verses on the Spirit are another.
However, Jesus talks about the Spirit and then COMES BACK to the command talk. The two are clearly connected.
Here's the puzzling thing, though. You don't need a Spirit to follow a list of rules. I'm a lawyer, I know this from experience. There's no real spirit in the law. The Spirit, a "Spirit of Truth," particularly, is needed where there's doubt, and ambiguity. There's no ambiguity and a huge list of commands and rules. There IS, however, ambiguity in an ethic of love. There's ambiguity in figuring out HOW to love someone. There's a whole lot of ambiguity there. So, perhaps Jesus is telling us that in order to understand how to follow His commands, which aren't a big list of rules, but rather a few principles, we need a Spirit. Perhaps, then, the verse about following His commands isn't Jesus redefining Love into obedience at all, but the opposite. Love may be obedience, but obedience is love, and the only way to figure that out is with a living Spirit.
I spent so long bothered by that verse, feeling like Jesus had let the legalism slip back in at the last moment. I should have known better. I should have known I could trust Him. That's why I'm starting to love this project. It's two weeks old, and I've already been forced to tackle a verse that has plagued me for years, and it will do so no more. His command is love. Now that's Good News.
I was raised in the Southern Baptist church, raised to believe in the Bible, and in a mostly literal interpretive framework. I went to a Catholic high school for academic reasons, before majoring in philosophy and religion at Cumberland College (now University of the Cumberlands) in southeastern Kentucky, which is a SBC affiliated school. Throughout my adolescence, I went throughout a process of liberalization when it came to my theology. One of the places that started was noticing how, time and time again, Jesus emphasized an attitude of love over a rigid adherence to rules. I've tried to apply the general ethic Jesus embodied to the problems of today, rather than searching verse by verse for clues as to how one Biblical writer or another might have believed on an issue.
During college I began to advance this idea in classroom discussions, papers, and other places. The idea that Jesus calls us to an ethics, and not a set of rules. While it was rare to get outright hostility towards the notion, there was always a hint of caution in the response. It usually involved people indicating that there would never be any disagreement between the perfect rules of God and an ethic of love, and John 14:15 was the verse cited. You see, this verse, I was told, tells us that loving God means keeping His commandments, and therefore, an ethic of love is really the same thing as an ethic of following the rules. That was an idea that never sat well with me. I mean, hadn't they read the Gospels. Didn't they see Jesus time and time again flout the rules in favor of healing, or caring for people's needs, in the name of love. Each time, they had an explanation, about how the REAL rule said to do/not do X, and Jesus did Y, which was similar to X, but not exactly X, so the lesson isn't really about the relationship between people and rules, but about the precise definition of the rules.
I got frustrated. I felt like people were missing the forest for the trees. Did they really think Jesus's ministry was about refining the rules? cthey see that every word He said was about love, and not directed at commands, but about an inward attitude? He summed up the entire Law in two commands about love. Did people really think He did that, just so He could then bizarrely redefine love as following the law?
So, that's my baggage when I look at this week's passage, John 14: 15-21:
“If you love me, keep my commands. 16 And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another advocate to help you and be with you forever— 17 the Spirit of truth. The world cannot accept him, because it neither sees him nor knows him. But you know him, for he lives with you and will be[c] in you. 18 I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you. 19 Before long, the world will not see me anymore, but you will see me. Because I live, you also will live. 20 On that day you will realize that I am in my Father, and you are in me, and I am in you. 21 Whoever has my commands and keeps them is the one who loves me. The one who loves me will be loved by my Father, and I too will love them and show myself to them.”
As I was trying to look at this passage with fresh eyes, and tried to free myself of the baggage I mentioned, I found myself asking a question, one that I had always assumed had an obvious answer: "What ARE Jesus's commands." The presumed answer to that question throughout my childhood was simple, the commands of Jesus are the commands of all of the Bible, because the whole Bible is His Word, right?
What if we don't make that assumption, though? After all, Jesus was speaking to His disciples while He was still on Earth. Most of them were illiterate and barely knew the Old Testament, and the New Testament hadn't been written yet. So, maybe He was just talking about the things He told them were commands.
Based on that, I tried to do a quick survey of the commands of Jesus. There are many lists online that list anywhere from fifty commands to hundreds. Some seem to think that every time Jesus opened His mouth it was a command. I tried to look up when he used the word "command" (brief English search, not thorough, and no Greek scholarship, here), and I came up with only a couple of results. There was His description of the two great commandments, to Love God and Love Neighbor. There was also one chapter earlier, the only time He clearly enunciated a new command, telling them to love one another as He had loved them. Okay. So, maybe the commands of Jesus aren't as big a list of rules as I thought. Perhaps Jesus's "command" was the ethic of love I believed in all along.
Then Jesus does something interesting: He begins His famous promise about sending the Spirit. This is the set of verses that has launched Trinitarian doctrine more than any other. I've heard them preached on, discussed, expounded, read, and recited hundreds if not thousands of time, yet I rarely hear them in conjunction with the verse on commands. Usually the verse on commands is one sermon, and the verses on the Spirit are another.
However, Jesus talks about the Spirit and then COMES BACK to the command talk. The two are clearly connected.
Here's the puzzling thing, though. You don't need a Spirit to follow a list of rules. I'm a lawyer, I know this from experience. There's no real spirit in the law. The Spirit, a "Spirit of Truth," particularly, is needed where there's doubt, and ambiguity. There's no ambiguity and a huge list of commands and rules. There IS, however, ambiguity in an ethic of love. There's ambiguity in figuring out HOW to love someone. There's a whole lot of ambiguity there. So, perhaps Jesus is telling us that in order to understand how to follow His commands, which aren't a big list of rules, but rather a few principles, we need a Spirit. Perhaps, then, the verse about following His commands isn't Jesus redefining Love into obedience at all, but the opposite. Love may be obedience, but obedience is love, and the only way to figure that out is with a living Spirit.
I spent so long bothered by that verse, feeling like Jesus had let the legalism slip back in at the last moment. I should have known better. I should have known I could trust Him. That's why I'm starting to love this project. It's two weeks old, and I've already been forced to tackle a verse that has plagued me for years, and it will do so no more. His command is love. Now that's Good News.
Thursday, May 15, 2014
A New Project and the Nature of Forgiveness
So, I've been not writing much, and that's not good for me, but I rarely find myself inspired enough to sit down and write. In order to do better, I've been looking for a formula, something that would give me some structure, and I think I've found it. First, look here. Blogging once a week about a specific set of preset texts. Perfect. Structure, a schedule, all the things I need to force some effort out of myself. So, I'm joining the project, in a very "Hey, I'm going to do this, too" kind of way, not in any official capacity. With that said, let's launch into this week.
Acts 7
Acts 7
55 But Stephen, full of the Holy Spirit, looked up to heaven and saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing at the right hand of God. 56 “Look,” he said, “I see heaven open and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God.”
57 At this they covered their ears and, yelling at the top of their voices, they all rushed at him,58 dragged him out of the city and began to stone him. Meanwhile, the witnesses laid their coats at the feet of a young man named Saul.
59 While they were stoning him, Stephen prayed, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.” 60 Then he fell on his knees and cried out, “Lord, do not hold this sin against them.” When he had said this, he fell asleep.
What struck me immediately about this passage, and something I'd forgotten, was Stephen's last words, asking forgiveness for his killers, which immediately reminded me of Jesus's words on the cross, "Father forgive them, for they know not what they do." What is striking about these is the unconditional nature of the forgiveness shown by Stephen and Jesus. The people they are forgiving are literally in the middle of killing them. There's no repentance, no apology necessary first. They don't feel the need to rebuke them for their sin. They forgive. Immediately, and without precondition.
Unfortunately, at times the church gets away from the model of forgiveness shown by Stephen and Jesus. We demand that repentance precede forgiveness, even though neither Jesus nor Stephen demanded that as they died. I recently read a post online, in reaction to what the poster thought was an acceptance of sin, which said that Jesus's model was to rebuke sin, and then forgive, but on the cross, He literally indicates that He desires forgiveness for those who DON'T know what they do, and feels no need to rebuke prior to forgiving. Jesus and Stephen forgive, and request forgiveness wholly and unconditionally. May we have the strength to follow in that path.
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
Jesus, Divorce, and Biblical Authority
I've been following the World Vision kerfluffle recently. Before you run away in fear from yet another blog post about it, this isn't about that whole mess. I have opinions on that, but they're not that unique, and there are enough articles out there about it already. It's simply that following the issue leads to what I really want to talk about.
During the debate, the usual thing happened that happens when Christians debate something like marriage equality, which is to say, both sides scream persecution, injustice, and prejudice against their side. Those for equality because, well, we don't frame the issue as one of marriage equality for nothing. Those against make the claim that they're being treated poorly for simply standing for the tradition of the church and authority of Scripture.
The next stage in the argument is where both sides start to push into the realm of comparative analysis. For the anti-crowd, that means asking what moral standards the equality crowd does hold to, and talking about bestiality, polygamy, etc. (Side note: I've always found that ironic, since the Bible really doesn't seem to have a problem with polygamy, at least in the Old Testament). The pro-crowd starts to accuse the anti-crowd of picking and choosing issues to take a stand on, mentioning some of the obscure Levitical texts that condemn everything from mixed fabrics to shellfish, as well as the church's acceptance of people who have divorced and remarried, despite Jesus calling that adultery in the Sermon on the Mount.
I mention all of that to explain how I came to be thinking about Jesus's discussion of divorce, while at the same time, the issue of the authority of Scriptures was dancing around in my head. As I looked at it, something popped into my head. An idea I couldn't shake. That's what I'm here to share.
In Matthew 19, Jesus is asked by a Pharisee about the issue of the lawfulness of divorce. It had the feel of a trap. In the previous Sermon on the Mount, Jesus had spoken about divorce and indicated his problems with it. However, Deuteronomy 24 clearly gives a man a right to a divorce. This post isn't about divorce, though, it's about something Jesus says in response. he notes, in verse 8 and 9, "Moses permitted you to divorce your wives because your hearts were hard. But it was not this way from the beginning. I tell you, anyone who divorces his wife, except for sexual immorality, and marries another woman commits adultery."
Jesus, here, makes a startling revelation. That something in Scripture was written because of the hardness of people's hearts. That the Bible made an allowance for human prejudice, but that the time for that prejudice had ended, and the allowance was over. The revelation of God to humanity had progressed, move on, and the old allowance to our hard heartedness, our prejudice, was no longer to be tolerated.
So, here's the question: if Jesus indicated that Scripture contained one allowance for human hard heartedness, why can't there be more? Detractors always note that the Bible never condemns slavery. Perhaps the best answer to that is to note that it was an allowance for human hard heartedness at the time, that society wasn't ready for that revelation yet, just as society wasn't ready for the hard teaching on divorce during the time of Moses. Perhaps God's revelation to mankind marches on, gradually bending us towards equality, justice, and love. So, perhaps we need to start looking at the Bible not verse by verse as a collection of rules, but in general spirit, and maybe note that some of the verses should be seen as, well, allowances for hard heartedness. Jesus pointed out Scripture did it once, what reason is there to believe that was the only time it happened?
I could probably harp on this point more, noting other places commands were changed (Peter's sheet dream in Acts comes to mind), but I think it's better resting this case clearly on Jesus. We should look at the Bible with the spirit of Jesus, and if something seems wrong and cruel, perhaps we should have the courage to say, "Yes, the writer made allowance for the prejudices of the day, but it's time to cast off that hard heartedness and move on, just as Jesus told us to do concerning divorce."
During the debate, the usual thing happened that happens when Christians debate something like marriage equality, which is to say, both sides scream persecution, injustice, and prejudice against their side. Those for equality because, well, we don't frame the issue as one of marriage equality for nothing. Those against make the claim that they're being treated poorly for simply standing for the tradition of the church and authority of Scripture.
The next stage in the argument is where both sides start to push into the realm of comparative analysis. For the anti-crowd, that means asking what moral standards the equality crowd does hold to, and talking about bestiality, polygamy, etc. (Side note: I've always found that ironic, since the Bible really doesn't seem to have a problem with polygamy, at least in the Old Testament). The pro-crowd starts to accuse the anti-crowd of picking and choosing issues to take a stand on, mentioning some of the obscure Levitical texts that condemn everything from mixed fabrics to shellfish, as well as the church's acceptance of people who have divorced and remarried, despite Jesus calling that adultery in the Sermon on the Mount.
I mention all of that to explain how I came to be thinking about Jesus's discussion of divorce, while at the same time, the issue of the authority of Scriptures was dancing around in my head. As I looked at it, something popped into my head. An idea I couldn't shake. That's what I'm here to share.
In Matthew 19, Jesus is asked by a Pharisee about the issue of the lawfulness of divorce. It had the feel of a trap. In the previous Sermon on the Mount, Jesus had spoken about divorce and indicated his problems with it. However, Deuteronomy 24 clearly gives a man a right to a divorce. This post isn't about divorce, though, it's about something Jesus says in response. he notes, in verse 8 and 9, "Moses permitted you to divorce your wives because your hearts were hard. But it was not this way from the beginning. I tell you, anyone who divorces his wife, except for sexual immorality, and marries another woman commits adultery."
Jesus, here, makes a startling revelation. That something in Scripture was written because of the hardness of people's hearts. That the Bible made an allowance for human prejudice, but that the time for that prejudice had ended, and the allowance was over. The revelation of God to humanity had progressed, move on, and the old allowance to our hard heartedness, our prejudice, was no longer to be tolerated.
So, here's the question: if Jesus indicated that Scripture contained one allowance for human hard heartedness, why can't there be more? Detractors always note that the Bible never condemns slavery. Perhaps the best answer to that is to note that it was an allowance for human hard heartedness at the time, that society wasn't ready for that revelation yet, just as society wasn't ready for the hard teaching on divorce during the time of Moses. Perhaps God's revelation to mankind marches on, gradually bending us towards equality, justice, and love. So, perhaps we need to start looking at the Bible not verse by verse as a collection of rules, but in general spirit, and maybe note that some of the verses should be seen as, well, allowances for hard heartedness. Jesus pointed out Scripture did it once, what reason is there to believe that was the only time it happened?
I could probably harp on this point more, noting other places commands were changed (Peter's sheet dream in Acts comes to mind), but I think it's better resting this case clearly on Jesus. We should look at the Bible with the spirit of Jesus, and if something seems wrong and cruel, perhaps we should have the courage to say, "Yes, the writer made allowance for the prejudices of the day, but it's time to cast off that hard heartedness and move on, just as Jesus told us to do concerning divorce."
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
I now pronounce you Chicken Sandwich
Okay, in case you haven't been paying attention, there's a big to-do today. You see, it recently came to public consciousness that Chick-Fil-A (hereafter CFA), you know, the business that's so big into religion that they close on Sundays, also has other religious beliefs. And, well, the owners are pretty anti-gay, and give bunches of company profits to anti-gay groups that do things like oppose legislation condemning the Ugandan law that puts gays to death. Because saying that killing people for being gay is wrong is a stance that the United States shouldn't take?
Okay, snarkiness aside, I have to get through the "this is what's going on" setup. So, the internet, which tends to be rather liberal about things like this, gets wind of this. People boycott. Then, right wing Christian groups get wind of that. And that leads us to today, which was declared "CFA Appreciation Day" by some of those individuals, where people showed up in droves to eat CFA to support... their freedom of speech? Their hatin' them some gays? I'm not sure exactly WHAT they were supporting. But we'll get to that. I just wanted to set up what's going on. Anyway, all of this raises some very important, nuanced issues that I really have to write about, if for no other reason than to figure out how I feel about them. So, here we go.
First, I want to make clear what isn't nuanced and what I don't have to figure out. Gay people should have the right to get married. CFA is wrong to oppose that. The groups they are supporting are wrong. It's discrimination and it's evil. I decided that a long time ago. It's obvious to me, and I believe that history is on my side. We'll get there one day.
So, what is interesting? Well, for me, the first thing that's interesting is the ethics involving in a boycott itself. Specifically, what is our moral responsibility as it relates to the things that we buy and the people that we give our money to? This point has been brought up in relation to this boycott and its purpose specifically by comparing it to oil purchases. We KNOW that money we spend on oil and gas eventually gets to OPEC and, ultimately, to Middle East dictators who are running Sharia-based systems in which gay people are STONED TO DEATH. But you don't see the people decrying CFA buyers crying for a gas boycott. They do tend to be people saying, "Man, we need to get off of fossil fuels" but they don't just shut it down. And that can be expanded to all kinds of things. The more research you do, the more you realize that an interconnected economy means that at some point, anything you buy is going to give money to something or someone you don't like. So, what's our responsibility?
I've thought long and hard about this, and you know what? I just don't know. There's really no logically consistent answer short of becoming a luddite hermit and exiting the stream of the mainstream economy (probably not a bad idea, in some ways, but I'm just not willing to do it) or saying, "screw it, I'm gonna buy whatever I want and forget moral considerations", and I'm not willing to toss in that towel, either. There's no happy medium, here, either. There's just an unhappy medium, where you recognize that you're being a little hypocritical no matter what. Sometimes, you've just got to make a call, and you have to balance the importance of the thing you're buying to you, level of separation from the bad things you don't want to support, and how bad the thing being supported is.
With that said, there's a secondary issue. Boycotts, as a whole, are pretty ineffective. Quick, name a boycott that really changed something. Okay, now name one other than the Alabama bus boycott. Can't name another? Neither can I. Because reaching critical mass on these things is hard. And even the Alabama boycott didn't really work. It drew news and political attention that ultimately got a federal law passed, but it didn't work the way a boycott is SUPPOSED to work: via the power of economic pressure. It worked because of the media and politics surrounding it, not due to the idea of lost money causing change in the business. The reality is that minor personal stands don't ACTUALLY work to change anything.
That doesn't mean all boycotts are bad. Sometimes you just have to do it, because someone has to take a stand somewhere. It's symbolic. And I think this is one of those times. At least for me, this one's not about having my money go towards a homophobe or homophobic causes, at least not directly. If I found out the owner of the diner down the street was a homophobe, too, I'd probably still go to that diner, because at the end of the day I tend to fall on the side that believes that most boycotts are silly, don't change anything, that my dollar's easily replaced, and that .99 of my dollar goes to overhead, paying workers, etc. and that very, very little of it would actually make it to the hateful cause itself. Maybe that's just me justifying, but that's how I am. But this one has taken on a life of it's own. And some people I truly care about truly believe in it, and feel very strongly about it. And for them, and because this one's become a bit of a litmus test, I'm joining in. Because it's one thing to know that the world's full of crap. It's another thing to support the guy who shoves that in your face directly. And, well, the CFA thing has crossed that line for me.
That alone is tricky. But it didn't mandate me taking the time to sit down and write about it. You see, this has quickly become a "line in the sand" moment for many people. Stand with them against CFA or with the homophobic chicken hut. Or, on the other side, go and eat some chicken or be opposed to... free speech? Again, I really don't see their point. We're getting there. Anyway, here's the thing. I've chosen my side of the line on this one. But I don't like the line. I wish it wasn't there. I didn't draw it. I don't want it there. I've made my choice. I'm boycotting. If you want to join me, cool. If you don't, well, reasonable minds can disagree. I'm not going to make you, "The Enemy". I understand why some people I know, who I respect, feel that you are. This is very, very personal for them. I get their position, but it's not mine. People today posted things about how anyone who eats CFA at all should be ashamed. Anyone who has homophobic family should be ashamed. Suddenly I felt very uncomfortable. You see, my family and I, we don't precisely see eye to eye on this issue. But I still love them. I will never be ashamed of them. EVER. I won't. I refuse. You haven't seen my mom cry about the people she tries to help at her job. You haven't seen my brothers give up weeks of their lives to build houses for those who need them. You haven't had my dad be there for you every moment of your life when you needed him. So many other things about them that you don't know. I love them and will NOT be ashamed of them, no matter how many things, even very important things, I disagree with them about.
So, that needed to be said to those I agree with on this issue. I think I'm down to two things I want to say. I know, how can I still have two points to make? But I do. Point one: Like I said, I don't care for the line in the sand. If you choose not to join me in the boycott, that's cool. But those who came out in droves today? Who came out to send some sort of message? You bother me. Of all the things for Christians to really rally behind, fast food chicken and opposing gay marriage? If only we could get Christians half this excited for feeding the hungry. Clothing the naked. You know, the things Jesus explicitly commanded us to do? What about visiting people in jail? I'm in the jail regularly. I see the visitation logs. You know how often I see people visiting people in jail just out of Christian charity? I see a few clergy and their helpers who show up for a service, and that's IT. But you'll all show up because some people disagree with a fast food joint using its money to support hate groups? Yeah, not cool. I disagree with you. I think your views are bigoted on this issue. But I'm still insane enough to love you, believe it or not. Because I do believe that you can love people you disagree with, and the God I believe in calls me to love everyone. Even in the midst of your hate.
That's the last thing. The great irony is that all of this, ultimately, comes down to love. Everyone in this claims to be on the side of love. I see everyone's point, up to a point. Most of us just want to allow people the right to love who they want and the equal ability to express that love in a way that is accepted by society. Those opposing us claim to be doing it out of love as well, but it's horrendously misguided. It's like the love of one of those parents you see in movies who have this path all picked out for their kids and are going to force them down their path no matter what, even if it's not what the kid wants or needs. It's that kind of love. At best. That's being as generous as I can. And I try to be generous to everyone as much as I can let myself. I think there are people out there who genuinely believe that their homophobia is ultimately doing what's best for people. They're wrong. They're wrong about society and wrong about God, but I do think that their heart isn't completely full of hate. But there are just as many out there who are using God as an excuse to let their bigotry and hate shine. Probably more. And to those, all I can say is that I love you, and I hope one day that you'll let real love in your heart. Okay, so that was a weirdly sappy ending, but I feel better now, and more at peace with where I stand. Thanks to anyone who reads this. I don't know if I've said anything worthwhile, but I know I've said a whole lot.
Okay, snarkiness aside, I have to get through the "this is what's going on" setup. So, the internet, which tends to be rather liberal about things like this, gets wind of this. People boycott. Then, right wing Christian groups get wind of that. And that leads us to today, which was declared "CFA Appreciation Day" by some of those individuals, where people showed up in droves to eat CFA to support... their freedom of speech? Their hatin' them some gays? I'm not sure exactly WHAT they were supporting. But we'll get to that. I just wanted to set up what's going on. Anyway, all of this raises some very important, nuanced issues that I really have to write about, if for no other reason than to figure out how I feel about them. So, here we go.
First, I want to make clear what isn't nuanced and what I don't have to figure out. Gay people should have the right to get married. CFA is wrong to oppose that. The groups they are supporting are wrong. It's discrimination and it's evil. I decided that a long time ago. It's obvious to me, and I believe that history is on my side. We'll get there one day.
So, what is interesting? Well, for me, the first thing that's interesting is the ethics involving in a boycott itself. Specifically, what is our moral responsibility as it relates to the things that we buy and the people that we give our money to? This point has been brought up in relation to this boycott and its purpose specifically by comparing it to oil purchases. We KNOW that money we spend on oil and gas eventually gets to OPEC and, ultimately, to Middle East dictators who are running Sharia-based systems in which gay people are STONED TO DEATH. But you don't see the people decrying CFA buyers crying for a gas boycott. They do tend to be people saying, "Man, we need to get off of fossil fuels" but they don't just shut it down. And that can be expanded to all kinds of things. The more research you do, the more you realize that an interconnected economy means that at some point, anything you buy is going to give money to something or someone you don't like. So, what's our responsibility?
I've thought long and hard about this, and you know what? I just don't know. There's really no logically consistent answer short of becoming a luddite hermit and exiting the stream of the mainstream economy (probably not a bad idea, in some ways, but I'm just not willing to do it) or saying, "screw it, I'm gonna buy whatever I want and forget moral considerations", and I'm not willing to toss in that towel, either. There's no happy medium, here, either. There's just an unhappy medium, where you recognize that you're being a little hypocritical no matter what. Sometimes, you've just got to make a call, and you have to balance the importance of the thing you're buying to you, level of separation from the bad things you don't want to support, and how bad the thing being supported is.
With that said, there's a secondary issue. Boycotts, as a whole, are pretty ineffective. Quick, name a boycott that really changed something. Okay, now name one other than the Alabama bus boycott. Can't name another? Neither can I. Because reaching critical mass on these things is hard. And even the Alabama boycott didn't really work. It drew news and political attention that ultimately got a federal law passed, but it didn't work the way a boycott is SUPPOSED to work: via the power of economic pressure. It worked because of the media and politics surrounding it, not due to the idea of lost money causing change in the business. The reality is that minor personal stands don't ACTUALLY work to change anything.
That doesn't mean all boycotts are bad. Sometimes you just have to do it, because someone has to take a stand somewhere. It's symbolic. And I think this is one of those times. At least for me, this one's not about having my money go towards a homophobe or homophobic causes, at least not directly. If I found out the owner of the diner down the street was a homophobe, too, I'd probably still go to that diner, because at the end of the day I tend to fall on the side that believes that most boycotts are silly, don't change anything, that my dollar's easily replaced, and that .99 of my dollar goes to overhead, paying workers, etc. and that very, very little of it would actually make it to the hateful cause itself. Maybe that's just me justifying, but that's how I am. But this one has taken on a life of it's own. And some people I truly care about truly believe in it, and feel very strongly about it. And for them, and because this one's become a bit of a litmus test, I'm joining in. Because it's one thing to know that the world's full of crap. It's another thing to support the guy who shoves that in your face directly. And, well, the CFA thing has crossed that line for me.
That alone is tricky. But it didn't mandate me taking the time to sit down and write about it. You see, this has quickly become a "line in the sand" moment for many people. Stand with them against CFA or with the homophobic chicken hut. Or, on the other side, go and eat some chicken or be opposed to... free speech? Again, I really don't see their point. We're getting there. Anyway, here's the thing. I've chosen my side of the line on this one. But I don't like the line. I wish it wasn't there. I didn't draw it. I don't want it there. I've made my choice. I'm boycotting. If you want to join me, cool. If you don't, well, reasonable minds can disagree. I'm not going to make you, "The Enemy". I understand why some people I know, who I respect, feel that you are. This is very, very personal for them. I get their position, but it's not mine. People today posted things about how anyone who eats CFA at all should be ashamed. Anyone who has homophobic family should be ashamed. Suddenly I felt very uncomfortable. You see, my family and I, we don't precisely see eye to eye on this issue. But I still love them. I will never be ashamed of them. EVER. I won't. I refuse. You haven't seen my mom cry about the people she tries to help at her job. You haven't seen my brothers give up weeks of their lives to build houses for those who need them. You haven't had my dad be there for you every moment of your life when you needed him. So many other things about them that you don't know. I love them and will NOT be ashamed of them, no matter how many things, even very important things, I disagree with them about.
So, that needed to be said to those I agree with on this issue. I think I'm down to two things I want to say. I know, how can I still have two points to make? But I do. Point one: Like I said, I don't care for the line in the sand. If you choose not to join me in the boycott, that's cool. But those who came out in droves today? Who came out to send some sort of message? You bother me. Of all the things for Christians to really rally behind, fast food chicken and opposing gay marriage? If only we could get Christians half this excited for feeding the hungry. Clothing the naked. You know, the things Jesus explicitly commanded us to do? What about visiting people in jail? I'm in the jail regularly. I see the visitation logs. You know how often I see people visiting people in jail just out of Christian charity? I see a few clergy and their helpers who show up for a service, and that's IT. But you'll all show up because some people disagree with a fast food joint using its money to support hate groups? Yeah, not cool. I disagree with you. I think your views are bigoted on this issue. But I'm still insane enough to love you, believe it or not. Because I do believe that you can love people you disagree with, and the God I believe in calls me to love everyone. Even in the midst of your hate.
That's the last thing. The great irony is that all of this, ultimately, comes down to love. Everyone in this claims to be on the side of love. I see everyone's point, up to a point. Most of us just want to allow people the right to love who they want and the equal ability to express that love in a way that is accepted by society. Those opposing us claim to be doing it out of love as well, but it's horrendously misguided. It's like the love of one of those parents you see in movies who have this path all picked out for their kids and are going to force them down their path no matter what, even if it's not what the kid wants or needs. It's that kind of love. At best. That's being as generous as I can. And I try to be generous to everyone as much as I can let myself. I think there are people out there who genuinely believe that their homophobia is ultimately doing what's best for people. They're wrong. They're wrong about society and wrong about God, but I do think that their heart isn't completely full of hate. But there are just as many out there who are using God as an excuse to let their bigotry and hate shine. Probably more. And to those, all I can say is that I love you, and I hope one day that you'll let real love in your heart. Okay, so that was a weirdly sappy ending, but I feel better now, and more at peace with where I stand. Thanks to anyone who reads this. I don't know if I've said anything worthwhile, but I know I've said a whole lot.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
I am the 99 percent
I know, I know. I started this, and then I realized that I didn't have as much to say as I thought I did, so, well, I stopped. But Occupy Wall Street has inspired me, so here I go again. And, well, it's Occupy Wall Street, or OWS, that I want to talk about.
First and foremost, I want to be clear: I support OWS. At the end of the day, while the movement has its flaws, its message is good, and one I fundamentally support. I don't think that they're sure how to fix the problems they've identified, and, like any annoying know-it-all, I have some suggestions on that front, which I might discuss in a later post, but in general I support an opposition to the corporate structure that is causing serious problems in America. With that said, there are some criticisms that have been made. Some of them, like the "No, you have opportunity, really, there's one lucky person that worked hard and made it and I'm going to tell you their story so that I can keep up the illusion of equal opportunity, why don't you just work harder or smarter?" criticism are rather specious and have already been rebutted to death see Lemony Snicket's list, or one of the fifteen million blog entries dealing with annoying self-righteous facebook picture person for those. I don't intend to deal with them here. But there is one criticism that deserve to be taken seriously and addressed. And that's the one I'm going to deal with.
Unfortunately, this criticism is unpopular, because while it is harmful to OWS, it hits home to those who they are protesting just as hard, if not harder, so it's hard for them to use it as a defense against OWS. It was brought up by my brother, and it is, by far, the most cogent criticism of OWS that I've seen thus far. It asks a simple question. While we may be the 99 percent in the United States, worldwide we're still pretty darn well off in the grand scheme of things, globally. And historically, there's no question. Hell, historically nearly all Americans living in the 21st century are probably in the one percent. So, does that mean we should count our blessings and shut up?
This deserves thinking about. As bad as some people in this country have it, mostly it's a psychological thing. It's the knowledge of crippling debt, not the reality of starvation that confronts us. Are we a bunch of spoiled brats, whining because we didn't get the right color car for our birthday? (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-JvtlB_NzI8) Didn't Jesus have a parable about not complaining when you get a fair shake if some people are getting better? (Matthew 20:1-16) So, is that it? Should OWS shut up and let things go?
I think the answer to that is both a yes and a no. I'm willing to admit up front that the people of OWS, and passive supporters like me aren't the perfect messengers. We have our own flaws, hang-ups, and injustices. We take up too much of the world's resources. We are, in many ways, hypocritical, the very undeserving rich that we're railing against. But, the messenger and the message are two different things, and the message, the problem of corporate control of American government, is one that is correct, and needs to be addressed, and if we can't address it through the motley crew that we have, then who? Are the starving people of the world going to be able to afford to march on Wall Street? Or address Washington? Organize a genuine political movement? No. They have other, more personal things to deal with.
The reality is that it's always fallen on those with a certain amount of privilege to tear privilege down. It wasn't Southern slaves that killed slavery. It was privileged free men that saw the injustice and did something about it. Without the votes of the men who had the franchise, it never would have been extended to women. The same thing is true with OWS. Are they, in fact, privileged beyond most of the world? Yes. Does that mean their cause to bring down the power of privilege is wrong or fundamentally hypocritical? I don't think so. Unfortunately, I'm not sure how self-aware that they are of this dilemma, and they definitely need to be more so, but the fact that it exists isn't a problem for the fundamentals of the message itself. The standard they are raising, the issue of corporate control of the United States has implications that impact those with far less say than those who claim to be part of the 99 percent. And this cause will help those people, too, at least as far as I can see. I wish the banner was raised in their name, and the movement needs improving in that regard, but that's not a reason to kill it. It's a reason to change it, sure. To work on it, definitely. But is it a reason to just shut up and go away? No. To the contrary, it's a reason to raise our voices louder, to speak for those suffering so greatly they don't even have a voice.
For too long, the so-called 99 percent have been speaking only for themselves. It's time for that to stop. We need to speak not only for ourselves, but for those even less fortunate than us. The one percent may be mildly inconveniencing me, but they're killing factory workers in China. The 99 percent needs to speak for the Chinese factory worker, the Taiwanese widow, the African orphan. Only then can we really claim to be fighting for justice. OWS has the makings of a positive movement, but it doesn't go nearly far enough. Yet.
I am Josh Hitch. And I am the 99 percent. But that's not important. More importantly, I am Josh Hitch, and as a human being and a citizen of the world, and as part of the 99 percent I stand for those who aren't even on the list to be counted. God bless America, and through us, the world.
First and foremost, I want to be clear: I support OWS. At the end of the day, while the movement has its flaws, its message is good, and one I fundamentally support. I don't think that they're sure how to fix the problems they've identified, and, like any annoying know-it-all, I have some suggestions on that front, which I might discuss in a later post, but in general I support an opposition to the corporate structure that is causing serious problems in America. With that said, there are some criticisms that have been made. Some of them, like the "No, you have opportunity, really, there's one lucky person that worked hard and made it and I'm going to tell you their story so that I can keep up the illusion of equal opportunity, why don't you just work harder or smarter?" criticism are rather specious and have already been rebutted to death see Lemony Snicket's list, or one of the fifteen million blog entries dealing with annoying self-righteous facebook picture person for those. I don't intend to deal with them here. But there is one criticism that deserve to be taken seriously and addressed. And that's the one I'm going to deal with.
Unfortunately, this criticism is unpopular, because while it is harmful to OWS, it hits home to those who they are protesting just as hard, if not harder, so it's hard for them to use it as a defense against OWS. It was brought up by my brother, and it is, by far, the most cogent criticism of OWS that I've seen thus far. It asks a simple question. While we may be the 99 percent in the United States, worldwide we're still pretty darn well off in the grand scheme of things, globally. And historically, there's no question. Hell, historically nearly all Americans living in the 21st century are probably in the one percent. So, does that mean we should count our blessings and shut up?
This deserves thinking about. As bad as some people in this country have it, mostly it's a psychological thing. It's the knowledge of crippling debt, not the reality of starvation that confronts us. Are we a bunch of spoiled brats, whining because we didn't get the right color car for our birthday? (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-JvtlB_NzI8) Didn't Jesus have a parable about not complaining when you get a fair shake if some people are getting better? (Matthew 20:1-16) So, is that it? Should OWS shut up and let things go?
I think the answer to that is both a yes and a no. I'm willing to admit up front that the people of OWS, and passive supporters like me aren't the perfect messengers. We have our own flaws, hang-ups, and injustices. We take up too much of the world's resources. We are, in many ways, hypocritical, the very undeserving rich that we're railing against. But, the messenger and the message are two different things, and the message, the problem of corporate control of American government, is one that is correct, and needs to be addressed, and if we can't address it through the motley crew that we have, then who? Are the starving people of the world going to be able to afford to march on Wall Street? Or address Washington? Organize a genuine political movement? No. They have other, more personal things to deal with.
The reality is that it's always fallen on those with a certain amount of privilege to tear privilege down. It wasn't Southern slaves that killed slavery. It was privileged free men that saw the injustice and did something about it. Without the votes of the men who had the franchise, it never would have been extended to women. The same thing is true with OWS. Are they, in fact, privileged beyond most of the world? Yes. Does that mean their cause to bring down the power of privilege is wrong or fundamentally hypocritical? I don't think so. Unfortunately, I'm not sure how self-aware that they are of this dilemma, and they definitely need to be more so, but the fact that it exists isn't a problem for the fundamentals of the message itself. The standard they are raising, the issue of corporate control of the United States has implications that impact those with far less say than those who claim to be part of the 99 percent. And this cause will help those people, too, at least as far as I can see. I wish the banner was raised in their name, and the movement needs improving in that regard, but that's not a reason to kill it. It's a reason to change it, sure. To work on it, definitely. But is it a reason to just shut up and go away? No. To the contrary, it's a reason to raise our voices louder, to speak for those suffering so greatly they don't even have a voice.
For too long, the so-called 99 percent have been speaking only for themselves. It's time for that to stop. We need to speak not only for ourselves, but for those even less fortunate than us. The one percent may be mildly inconveniencing me, but they're killing factory workers in China. The 99 percent needs to speak for the Chinese factory worker, the Taiwanese widow, the African orphan. Only then can we really claim to be fighting for justice. OWS has the makings of a positive movement, but it doesn't go nearly far enough. Yet.
I am Josh Hitch. And I am the 99 percent. But that's not important. More importantly, I am Josh Hitch, and as a human being and a citizen of the world, and as part of the 99 percent I stand for those who aren't even on the list to be counted. God bless America, and through us, the world.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
We're still here
It's May 21st at about eight o'clock in the evening, and it seems like there have been no major disappearances. The end of the world appears to have not occurred. I've had some fun with the predictions this past week, as have many people, especially on internet social networking sites. However, there have been some who have expressed an opinion that we shouldn't be having so much fun with this. That this isn't something that should be the butt of a joke. Are they right? Was I wrong to joke about the end of the world? Let's examine some of the arguments I've seen and see how they hold up.
1) Making a joke of this obscures some of the serious ramifications of these misguided beliefs. - The basis behind this one seems to come from some of the more depressing stories we've heard coming out of these predictions. There was a New York Times article about a family who stopped saving for their children's college because of their belief that, well, the world was going to end before college became a reality for them. There was another article about families who had their pets euthanized so they wouldn't suffer when they were gone. In light of tragic events like this, should we be cracking jokes? A few more enthusiastic critics have gone on to use this as a springboard for a discussion of how various religious views cause harm in general, from the gay marriage debate, to Islamic extremism, emphasizing that our reaction should be dismay and condemnation, not amusement. I disagree. The consequences are serious, that's true, but satire, comedy, and ridicule are one of the better weapons we have against absurd behavior like this. Serious and funny aren't as contradictory as people think. Comedy, after all, is merely tragedy plus time and/or distance.
2) Look, I know it seems kind of silly, but these are deeply held religious beliefs and they deserve some respect. - Coming from literally the opposite side of the spectrum from the first point, there are those who simply find it in poor taste to make fun of people's religious beliefs, regardless of how silly they seem. I kind of get this one. There are some lines that maybe we shouldn't cross. I think the reason that this one doesn't fit for me is this: they went out on a limb and posited a clear statement that could easily be proven false. You have to know that when May 21st comes and goes and everyone's still here that you'd be outside of the realm of potentially true religious belief and into the realm of "obviously really, really wrong." In addition, there's something to be said for people deserving the respect they give. The more you respect that you might be wrong, the less funny it is when you are.
3) What if they're right/Even if they get the date wrong, a Second Coming will occur and the jokes seem to be mocking God more than mocking the date. - Sure, they could have been right. And bin Laden might be enjoying 72 virgins right now. But at this point I'm nearly one hundred percent sure that one of those statements is wrong, and I'm about 99 percent on the other. But here's the thing: we make jokes about God all the time. Sermons have jokes in them, and some of them, if you really think about them, are kind of at God's expense, or at least with God as the topic. How many "gates of heaven" jokes have you heard? God can be funny.
What bothers me more about this argument, though, is that it seems to be, at base, an argument religious people use all too often. "What if you're wrong? Do you want to risk how badly my version of God is going to hurt you if you don't believe what I tell you that you need to believe?" Heck, it's been codified into a rational-sounding argument called Paschal's Wager. I say rational-sounding, because it's flawed at several levels. First, there are too many people saying the same thing. By believing in any given version of God, I'm risking that some other belief system might be right and that version might punish me. If I believe in Jesus, what's Allah going to do to me. If I believe in Allah, how can I help stop Xenu? Even within one religion, if I'm Catholic, what's going to happen with the Church of Christ's God? Enough denominations make enough contradictory claim, that I'm not sure that you can logically ensure that you're "in" with any one set of beliefs.
That's not the only problem, though. Once we start playing the "what if" game, we need to play it to its logical conclusion. What if God really hates cynical smartasses who play "what if" and specifically decided that anyone who believes simply because of Paschal's Wager is out? Just because no major religion says that doesn't make it an invalid "what if." Look, I'm a believer, but I think that "I'd better believe because God might send me to hell if I don't," is a bad reason to believe. Next post I'll go further in explaining why, and try to put the final nail in the coffin of Paschal.
1) Making a joke of this obscures some of the serious ramifications of these misguided beliefs. - The basis behind this one seems to come from some of the more depressing stories we've heard coming out of these predictions. There was a New York Times article about a family who stopped saving for their children's college because of their belief that, well, the world was going to end before college became a reality for them. There was another article about families who had their pets euthanized so they wouldn't suffer when they were gone. In light of tragic events like this, should we be cracking jokes? A few more enthusiastic critics have gone on to use this as a springboard for a discussion of how various religious views cause harm in general, from the gay marriage debate, to Islamic extremism, emphasizing that our reaction should be dismay and condemnation, not amusement. I disagree. The consequences are serious, that's true, but satire, comedy, and ridicule are one of the better weapons we have against absurd behavior like this. Serious and funny aren't as contradictory as people think. Comedy, after all, is merely tragedy plus time and/or distance.
2) Look, I know it seems kind of silly, but these are deeply held religious beliefs and they deserve some respect. - Coming from literally the opposite side of the spectrum from the first point, there are those who simply find it in poor taste to make fun of people's religious beliefs, regardless of how silly they seem. I kind of get this one. There are some lines that maybe we shouldn't cross. I think the reason that this one doesn't fit for me is this: they went out on a limb and posited a clear statement that could easily be proven false. You have to know that when May 21st comes and goes and everyone's still here that you'd be outside of the realm of potentially true religious belief and into the realm of "obviously really, really wrong." In addition, there's something to be said for people deserving the respect they give. The more you respect that you might be wrong, the less funny it is when you are.
3) What if they're right/Even if they get the date wrong, a Second Coming will occur and the jokes seem to be mocking God more than mocking the date. - Sure, they could have been right. And bin Laden might be enjoying 72 virgins right now. But at this point I'm nearly one hundred percent sure that one of those statements is wrong, and I'm about 99 percent on the other. But here's the thing: we make jokes about God all the time. Sermons have jokes in them, and some of them, if you really think about them, are kind of at God's expense, or at least with God as the topic. How many "gates of heaven" jokes have you heard? God can be funny.
What bothers me more about this argument, though, is that it seems to be, at base, an argument religious people use all too often. "What if you're wrong? Do you want to risk how badly my version of God is going to hurt you if you don't believe what I tell you that you need to believe?" Heck, it's been codified into a rational-sounding argument called Paschal's Wager. I say rational-sounding, because it's flawed at several levels. First, there are too many people saying the same thing. By believing in any given version of God, I'm risking that some other belief system might be right and that version might punish me. If I believe in Jesus, what's Allah going to do to me. If I believe in Allah, how can I help stop Xenu? Even within one religion, if I'm Catholic, what's going to happen with the Church of Christ's God? Enough denominations make enough contradictory claim, that I'm not sure that you can logically ensure that you're "in" with any one set of beliefs.
That's not the only problem, though. Once we start playing the "what if" game, we need to play it to its logical conclusion. What if God really hates cynical smartasses who play "what if" and specifically decided that anyone who believes simply because of Paschal's Wager is out? Just because no major religion says that doesn't make it an invalid "what if." Look, I'm a believer, but I think that "I'd better believe because God might send me to hell if I don't," is a bad reason to believe. Next post I'll go further in explaining why, and try to put the final nail in the coffin of Paschal.
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