Posts
I was watching some cheesy Lifetime movies last night, but they were good enough to keep me on the edge of my seat. One was They Come Back. It was about a psychologist and a little girl who sees dead people (sound familiar?). But it wasn't entirely a rip-off of the Sixth Sense, since the psychologist wasn't a dead person. She actually interacted with people! There was a good classroom scene, though. The little girl wasn't saying "Stop looking at me like that!," but she did shatter the aquarium, or at least got her poltergeist friend to do so.
The other was Nightmare at the End of the Hall. It was about a famous writer and teacher at a prep school, Courtney, whose dead friend is haunting the halls. In addition, someone who looks just like her friend is living at the school--in the same room where her friend committed suicide (or, as we learn later, got murdered by the headmaster because she had a baby with the headmaster's son, who actually liked Courtney). The movie had a lot of suspense, but, once everything was explained, my reaction was "Big deal." There was one interesting point, though: Courtney made a lot of money off a novel about her friend's suicide, which upset the girl's family. What she did looks pretty cold, but writing is supposed to be based on real life experiences, right? That's a good ethical question!
After the movies, I was thinking about the topic of ghosts. At Hebrew Union College, I once took an adult ed class about demons, and the professor said that demons in the ancient Near East could be ghosts who came back to take care of unresolved business. But what does the Hebrew Bible teach? Most of the Hebrew Bible seems to teach that the dead go to Sheol, period. I know there are passages that oppose the cult of the dead, which included offering them food. Such a practice may imply that the dead could leave Sheol every now and then. I don't know.
In terms of my religious background, the teaching on the afterlife that I always got was "soul sleep." It's held by Armstrongites, Seventh-Day Adventists, Jehovah's Witnesses, and perhaps others. I once heard it mentioned on the program, Christy! According to this doctrine, the dead are unconscious between the time of their death and that of their resurrection. Its justification is that there are biblical references that call death a "sleep," plus there are some passages that say the dead don't know anything. Consequently, according to advocates of "soul sleep," whenever a person sees a "ghost" of a dead person, he is actually seeing a demon. And that includes the "ghost" of Samuel in the witch of Endor scene!
In terms of experience, I've heard stories about ghosts. When I lived in New York, I attended a liberal Seventh-Day Adventist church, and the guest speaker was an expert on missions. During our lunch, I heard stories about Latin America and the Caribbean, in which ghosts are an accepted part of life. Some of them take out the garbage!
One of my relatives told me that there was a ghost in her house. She saw him with her peripheral vision, and she claimed that he took objects and returned them every now and then. There were times when the rocking chair moved and no one was sitting in it. He wasn't a mean ghost. He just liked hanging around the house!
In my great-grandmother's final moments, she talked to an invisible person who was sitting on her bed. Did she have her own Andrew, the angel of death on Touched by an Angel, who escorts departed souls to the afterlife?
I'm not sure if I'd call every ghost a demon, since many of them don't seem malevolent or engaged in deceptive spiritual practices. They're just there! But there is a potential for deception. I once read a tract by Bob Jones (though I forget whether it was I, II, or III). He said that the ghost of his dead mother once appeared to him, and she was telling him that there were many ways to get to heaven. He knew that wasn't really his mother, since she believed in Jesus. He identified that spirit as a demon.
Can one reconcile the existence of poltergeists with Christianity? You really can't with soul sleep, but how about with the immortal soul? According to that doctrine, a soul can go to heaven or hell. Or some maintain that it goes to a waiting room, where it anticipates the final judgment. Can a spirit wander the earth for a while before going there? When Nicole Kidman on The Others felt that her existence as a poltergeist contradicted her conservative Catholic beliefs, maybe she should have waited for a while: God eventually would've sent her soul to where it belonged.
I don't know.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Biden's Bad and Good Points
I watched Meet the Press this afternoon, and Senators Joe Biden and Lindsey Graham were on it. Joe Biden was defending Barack Obama and attacking John McCain, and he said some pretty provocative things (see Read the transcript).
First of all, Brian Williams referred to a February 17 quote by Hillary Clinton that questioned Obama's flip-flop on receiving public financing. Here's Biden's response:
"I understand her words. She was competing against him. Were I, were I still in the race, I'd probably be raising it. But the essence, the honest to God truth is, he's kept his commitment of keeping big money, individual influence, out of his campaign."
Well, that's pretty telling, isn't it? Biden likes Obama because he's kept big money out of his campaign, yet he'd be criticizing him if he (Biden) were still in the race? So Biden admits that he doesn't always say what he means and mean what he says? He's basically confessing that he's dishonest?
Second, Graham and Biden talked about drilling for offshore oil. Graham said: "Why did the Democratic leadership send a letter to President Bush, to [tell] Saudi Arabia...to drill more? The Democratic solution here is tax at home and get Saudi Arabia to drill more. The supply they want comes from the Mideast. The supply John McCain wants is here at home to blunt the effect of dependency of Mideast oil."
And Biden responded: "We're not trying to get Saudi to drill more, we're trying to get them to pump more of what they're drilling. They're not pumping what they could, number one. This is a gift, a gift to the oil companies by John McCain. They have now leased 41 million acres of offshore leases. They're only pumping in 10.2 million of those acres. Seventy-nine percent of all the offshore oil available off the coast of Florida, into the Gulf of Mexico, the Atlantic Coast, the Pacific Coast, lies within those acres that they now have. Why are they not pumping? Why are they not doing this? Why are they not pursuing what's estimated to be a total of 70--54 billion barrels of oil at their disposal right now if they pump? Why are these greedy fellows deciding they want to go beyond that? It's because they want to get it in before George Bush leaves the presidency. It's because they're not pumping the oil to keep the price up. They are not even drilling. So here you have 30 million leased acres they have right now that possesses 79 percent of all the offshore, and they're not drilling. And John says they need more? And it would take 10 years for it to come online."
But, if the oil companies don't even want to drill offshore, then why's Biden against allowing them to do so?
Biden still raises a good question, though: Will the companies even want to drill and pump more in America, if they're permitted? Or are they satisfied with the status quo, since higher prices mean more profits?
In a free market economy, competition should be bringing down the prices. Theoretically, a maverick company should be able to enter the equation, drill and pump in more areas, and offer the gasoline at lower prices, all in attempt to draw customers to itself. Then, the other companies would try to do the same, and the gas prices would come down. So why isn't that happening?
Maybe the companies are all agreeing not to drill more, since that allows them all to reap high profits. Or perhaps there's not a whole lot of competition, since there are only a handful of big oil companies that are even in the game. If a maverick company ever entered the equation, the big companies would drive it out of business, since they'd have the resources to pump more and charge lower prices. Then, after driving the maverick company out of business, they'd raise the prices back up. That would discourage maverick companies from even joining the game!
Of course, there's the possibility that government policies favor the big companies and discourage competition. David Cay Johnston presents examples of that sort of thing, in Free Lunch: How the Wealthiest Americans Enrich Themselves at Government Expense (and Stick You with the Bill).
First of all, Brian Williams referred to a February 17 quote by Hillary Clinton that questioned Obama's flip-flop on receiving public financing. Here's Biden's response:
"I understand her words. She was competing against him. Were I, were I still in the race, I'd probably be raising it. But the essence, the honest to God truth is, he's kept his commitment of keeping big money, individual influence, out of his campaign."
Well, that's pretty telling, isn't it? Biden likes Obama because he's kept big money out of his campaign, yet he'd be criticizing him if he (Biden) were still in the race? So Biden admits that he doesn't always say what he means and mean what he says? He's basically confessing that he's dishonest?
Second, Graham and Biden talked about drilling for offshore oil. Graham said: "Why did the Democratic leadership send a letter to President Bush, to [tell] Saudi Arabia...to drill more? The Democratic solution here is tax at home and get Saudi Arabia to drill more. The supply they want comes from the Mideast. The supply John McCain wants is here at home to blunt the effect of dependency of Mideast oil."
And Biden responded: "We're not trying to get Saudi to drill more, we're trying to get them to pump more of what they're drilling. They're not pumping what they could, number one. This is a gift, a gift to the oil companies by John McCain. They have now leased 41 million acres of offshore leases. They're only pumping in 10.2 million of those acres. Seventy-nine percent of all the offshore oil available off the coast of Florida, into the Gulf of Mexico, the Atlantic Coast, the Pacific Coast, lies within those acres that they now have. Why are they not pumping? Why are they not doing this? Why are they not pursuing what's estimated to be a total of 70--54 billion barrels of oil at their disposal right now if they pump? Why are these greedy fellows deciding they want to go beyond that? It's because they want to get it in before George Bush leaves the presidency. It's because they're not pumping the oil to keep the price up. They are not even drilling. So here you have 30 million leased acres they have right now that possesses 79 percent of all the offshore, and they're not drilling. And John says they need more? And it would take 10 years for it to come online."
But, if the oil companies don't even want to drill offshore, then why's Biden against allowing them to do so?
Biden still raises a good question, though: Will the companies even want to drill and pump more in America, if they're permitted? Or are they satisfied with the status quo, since higher prices mean more profits?
In a free market economy, competition should be bringing down the prices. Theoretically, a maverick company should be able to enter the equation, drill and pump in more areas, and offer the gasoline at lower prices, all in attempt to draw customers to itself. Then, the other companies would try to do the same, and the gas prices would come down. So why isn't that happening?
Maybe the companies are all agreeing not to drill more, since that allows them all to reap high profits. Or perhaps there's not a whole lot of competition, since there are only a handful of big oil companies that are even in the game. If a maverick company ever entered the equation, the big companies would drive it out of business, since they'd have the resources to pump more and charge lower prices. Then, after driving the maverick company out of business, they'd raise the prices back up. That would discourage maverick companies from even joining the game!
Of course, there's the possibility that government policies favor the big companies and discourage competition. David Cay Johnston presents examples of that sort of thing, in Free Lunch: How the Wealthiest Americans Enrich Themselves at Government Expense (and Stick You with the Bill).
John Marks, Reasons to Believe
John Marks is a veteran journalist and a former producer of 60 Minutes. He decided to investigate American evangelicalism after a conservative Christian couple asked him if he'd be left behind at the rapture. In the course of this task, Marks revisited a faith that he had left behind. He had accepted Christ as his personal Savior at age 16, only to abandon Christianity later in life. His investigation was his second look at evangelical Christianity. The product of his research is a book entitled, Reasons to Believe: One Man's Journey Among the Evangelicals and the Faith He Left Behind (New York: HarperCollins, 2008).
I identified with many aspects of Marks' journey. He became a Christian because he was ashamed of the mean things that he did to others, and that was a big reason that I converted to Christ. He kept an insightful, reflective journal throughout his faith life, the same way that I write about my spiritual journey in my blog. He began to lose his faith when a Christian friend told him that "God doesn't like artists because they ask too many questions," and he chose the path of asking questions rather than seeking to win people to a particular dogma (evangelicalism). At the same time, he explored other religious options, such as Sufism and Hinduism. Like Marks, I'm reluctant to tell others that a closed-minded version of Christianity contains all of the answers to life's questions, and yet I seek some place of rest and solace. I differ from Marks in that I continue to find a lot of beauty and wisdom in Christianity, and I choose to share that with other people. But, even when Christianity does not appeal to me, I make a decision to hold on tenaciously to God the Father and his Son, Jesus Christ. I cannot lose my faith--not without my consent.
The problem of evil inhibits Marks from re-embracing Christianity. One event that had a huge impact on him was when he was in Bosnia, and a father was hanging on to some thread of hope that he'd see his family again. That gave him the will to go on. When Marks learned that the man's family had been slaughtered, however, he (Marks) despaired that there could be any purpose behind such evil. At the end of the book, Marks affirms that he chooses to be left behind simply because there are too many bad things in the world, things that God should not permit.
I too wrestle with the problem of evil. In my case, I think about people with Asperger's Symdrome, who struggle to develop relationships or find jobs. I wonder if God even has a plan for them (and "them" includes me). And, as for those Western Christians who are so "blessed" in life, maybe they're just lucky. They don't have to struggle with a social handicap. Plus, they live in a prosperous part of the world. It's easy to say "God has a plan for my life" in those kinds of circumstances!
And, yet, everyone has problems, including American evangelicals. This was true of Don and Lillie McWhinney, the couple that asked Marks if he'd be left behind. They were prosperous people, for Don was an big-time executive in the oil business. But Lillie confessed to Marks that she once had a lot of fear, which Jesus helped her get through. And, in the course of the book, they lose their manic-depressant son in an accident.
What helps them through that whole ordeal is their belief that they'll see their son in heaven. Their son had lots of issues, but at least he accepted Christ as his personal Savior. But what if he hadn't? How would they have felt then? Can one rely on this sort of belief system for comfort, especially when so many people in the world die without knowing Christ? Marks touches on this issue when he relates that the McWhinneys bought a Hot Wheels toy for his son, who is half-Jewish. "I couldn't get out of my mind that they were gifts for a boy doomed for cosmic incineration," he says (8).
And that's something that surfaces in Marks book: there are all sorts of people in the world, who have done a lot incredible things. They have their own unique stories. For example, there's the transvestite who courageously survived Hitler and Stalin before coming to America. Where do they fit into the evangelicals' universe? Is a view that says, "They're wrong, and they're going to hell" the only legitimate way to think about them?
Marks talks in detail about a sermon by the McWhinneys' pastor, Tommy Nelson. Nelson preaches on Romans 1, arguing that even those who have not heard the Gospel are doomed to hell, since they've rejected God and his moral law. And, yet, Nelson is clear that God cares about each and every place in the world, for Revelation 7:9 says that people from EVERY nation, tribe, people, and tongue will stand before God and the lamb. "God will populate eternity with one, at least, someone, from every place," Nelson claims. That's actually a profound thought! God has his loving eye on every nook and cranny in the world, even a tribe in Tim-bick-too, which hasn't heard the Gospel! I wonder how someone will be saved in such a tribe. I've heard stories about Muslims who have dreams about Jesus, so maybe that's how God does it. Personally, I wish God would do that for everyone!
A lot of the book is about searching for hope in the face of hopelessness. Marks encounters many Christians who have experienced healings, miracles, and other out-of-the-ordinary events, which tells me that God is doing something in this broken world. Even the McWhinneys experience God's healing hand after their son's death, for they become friends with the man who caused it, who is himself a Christian. They manage to find something redemptive in a tragic situation.
And God also works through his body, the church. In the book, Marks interviews Pastor Bob Russell, who offers a different interpretation of Matthew 16:18, which says that the gates of hell will not prevail against the church:
"For years[,] our concept of that Scripture was that we've got the church, and we've got gates around the church, and Satan's going to pound up against those gates, and he's not going to prevail against it. But someone pointed out that Jesus isn't talking about the gates of the church. It's the gates of hell, and the church ought to go right up to the gates of hell and rescue people from hell. That's why we've got support groups for people with alcohol addictions, for people who have gone through divorce, for men with sexual addictions. We're here to rescue you when you've fallen, to say, hey, there's nothing you've done, there's no journey you've taken from God, but what you can turn around and he'll be right there. He's still reaching out to you" (151).
And Marks presents inspiring examples of Christians who boldly confront the gates of hell, as they strive to make a positive difference in a fallen world. There's the African-American church, which for years has fought for social justice out of a matter of necessity. There are the evangelicals who helped communities rebuild after their devastation by floods and hurricanes. There's the group of anti-social church leaders, who haven't done too well in American congregations, yet have the courage and tenacity to go overseas and build churches in the very midst of radical Islam. And then there is Renda Berryhill, a Christian conservative school board member from the suburbs, who shocked her neighbors by moving "into an abandoned hotel on one of the roughest drags of Odessa to meet the needs of troubled women" (286). All of these people act out of a love for Christ, as they carry him and his message into some of the bleakest areas.
The book discusses other issues as well. It features David Barton, a conservative Republican from Texas who collects artifacts from U.S. history that demonstrate America's Christian heritage. His presentations receive standing ovations even from staunch non-Republicans, particularly within the African-American community. Marks talks about a friend of his, a professor of film at a Christian college, who thinks that "a film containing obscenity, nudity, drug use, and violence [like Thomas Anderson's Magnolia] might be more God-filled than" a lot of the mediocre Christian movies out there (206). Marks delves into the world of Christian music, as he discusses music's power in light of the shofar. And he spends time in the evangelical intelligentsia, as he observes debates in the Discovery Institute and the Evangelical Theological Society.
Marks' book is a worthwhile read, for he highlights the multi-faceted nature of American evangelicalism. Some of it makes me uncomfortable, but other parts move me to tears.
I identified with many aspects of Marks' journey. He became a Christian because he was ashamed of the mean things that he did to others, and that was a big reason that I converted to Christ. He kept an insightful, reflective journal throughout his faith life, the same way that I write about my spiritual journey in my blog. He began to lose his faith when a Christian friend told him that "God doesn't like artists because they ask too many questions," and he chose the path of asking questions rather than seeking to win people to a particular dogma (evangelicalism). At the same time, he explored other religious options, such as Sufism and Hinduism. Like Marks, I'm reluctant to tell others that a closed-minded version of Christianity contains all of the answers to life's questions, and yet I seek some place of rest and solace. I differ from Marks in that I continue to find a lot of beauty and wisdom in Christianity, and I choose to share that with other people. But, even when Christianity does not appeal to me, I make a decision to hold on tenaciously to God the Father and his Son, Jesus Christ. I cannot lose my faith--not without my consent.
The problem of evil inhibits Marks from re-embracing Christianity. One event that had a huge impact on him was when he was in Bosnia, and a father was hanging on to some thread of hope that he'd see his family again. That gave him the will to go on. When Marks learned that the man's family had been slaughtered, however, he (Marks) despaired that there could be any purpose behind such evil. At the end of the book, Marks affirms that he chooses to be left behind simply because there are too many bad things in the world, things that God should not permit.
I too wrestle with the problem of evil. In my case, I think about people with Asperger's Symdrome, who struggle to develop relationships or find jobs. I wonder if God even has a plan for them (and "them" includes me). And, as for those Western Christians who are so "blessed" in life, maybe they're just lucky. They don't have to struggle with a social handicap. Plus, they live in a prosperous part of the world. It's easy to say "God has a plan for my life" in those kinds of circumstances!
And, yet, everyone has problems, including American evangelicals. This was true of Don and Lillie McWhinney, the couple that asked Marks if he'd be left behind. They were prosperous people, for Don was an big-time executive in the oil business. But Lillie confessed to Marks that she once had a lot of fear, which Jesus helped her get through. And, in the course of the book, they lose their manic-depressant son in an accident.
What helps them through that whole ordeal is their belief that they'll see their son in heaven. Their son had lots of issues, but at least he accepted Christ as his personal Savior. But what if he hadn't? How would they have felt then? Can one rely on this sort of belief system for comfort, especially when so many people in the world die without knowing Christ? Marks touches on this issue when he relates that the McWhinneys bought a Hot Wheels toy for his son, who is half-Jewish. "I couldn't get out of my mind that they were gifts for a boy doomed for cosmic incineration," he says (8).
And that's something that surfaces in Marks book: there are all sorts of people in the world, who have done a lot incredible things. They have their own unique stories. For example, there's the transvestite who courageously survived Hitler and Stalin before coming to America. Where do they fit into the evangelicals' universe? Is a view that says, "They're wrong, and they're going to hell" the only legitimate way to think about them?
Marks talks in detail about a sermon by the McWhinneys' pastor, Tommy Nelson. Nelson preaches on Romans 1, arguing that even those who have not heard the Gospel are doomed to hell, since they've rejected God and his moral law. And, yet, Nelson is clear that God cares about each and every place in the world, for Revelation 7:9 says that people from EVERY nation, tribe, people, and tongue will stand before God and the lamb. "God will populate eternity with one, at least, someone, from every place," Nelson claims. That's actually a profound thought! God has his loving eye on every nook and cranny in the world, even a tribe in Tim-bick-too, which hasn't heard the Gospel! I wonder how someone will be saved in such a tribe. I've heard stories about Muslims who have dreams about Jesus, so maybe that's how God does it. Personally, I wish God would do that for everyone!
A lot of the book is about searching for hope in the face of hopelessness. Marks encounters many Christians who have experienced healings, miracles, and other out-of-the-ordinary events, which tells me that God is doing something in this broken world. Even the McWhinneys experience God's healing hand after their son's death, for they become friends with the man who caused it, who is himself a Christian. They manage to find something redemptive in a tragic situation.
And God also works through his body, the church. In the book, Marks interviews Pastor Bob Russell, who offers a different interpretation of Matthew 16:18, which says that the gates of hell will not prevail against the church:
"For years[,] our concept of that Scripture was that we've got the church, and we've got gates around the church, and Satan's going to pound up against those gates, and he's not going to prevail against it. But someone pointed out that Jesus isn't talking about the gates of the church. It's the gates of hell, and the church ought to go right up to the gates of hell and rescue people from hell. That's why we've got support groups for people with alcohol addictions, for people who have gone through divorce, for men with sexual addictions. We're here to rescue you when you've fallen, to say, hey, there's nothing you've done, there's no journey you've taken from God, but what you can turn around and he'll be right there. He's still reaching out to you" (151).
And Marks presents inspiring examples of Christians who boldly confront the gates of hell, as they strive to make a positive difference in a fallen world. There's the African-American church, which for years has fought for social justice out of a matter of necessity. There are the evangelicals who helped communities rebuild after their devastation by floods and hurricanes. There's the group of anti-social church leaders, who haven't done too well in American congregations, yet have the courage and tenacity to go overseas and build churches in the very midst of radical Islam. And then there is Renda Berryhill, a Christian conservative school board member from the suburbs, who shocked her neighbors by moving "into an abandoned hotel on one of the roughest drags of Odessa to meet the needs of troubled women" (286). All of these people act out of a love for Christ, as they carry him and his message into some of the bleakest areas.
The book discusses other issues as well. It features David Barton, a conservative Republican from Texas who collects artifacts from U.S. history that demonstrate America's Christian heritage. His presentations receive standing ovations even from staunch non-Republicans, particularly within the African-American community. Marks talks about a friend of his, a professor of film at a Christian college, who thinks that "a film containing obscenity, nudity, drug use, and violence [like Thomas Anderson's Magnolia] might be more God-filled than" a lot of the mediocre Christian movies out there (206). Marks delves into the world of Christian music, as he discusses music's power in light of the shofar. And he spends time in the evangelical intelligentsia, as he observes debates in the Discovery Institute and the Evangelical Theological Society.
Marks' book is a worthwhile read, for he highlights the multi-faceted nature of American evangelicalism. Some of it makes me uncomfortable, but other parts move me to tears.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
What Aunt Julie Wants...
Late last night, I watched "It's All about George," which is an episode from 7th Heaven's first season. It had a scene that really spoke to me.
Aunt Julie is Reverend Eric Camden's sister, and she's a recovering alcoholic. She had a lot of success as a school principal, but she lost her job and her friendships due to her drinking. My recovery was not exactly like hers, since I never had any withdrawal symptoms, whereas she practically had to be locked inside a room. And people wonder why I was reluctant to call myself an alcoholic! Maybe it's because of the extreme way that they are portrayed on television. "I'm not like that," I could say to myself.
But, getting back to our topic, both aunt Julie and Eric Camden were raised by two hard-core, intimidating parents: Colonel John Camden and his wife, Ruth. I love the episodes that have the Colonel, but I can see how he'd drive someone to drink! But the Colonel and Ruth have found some happiness lately, since they adopted 10 year old George, whom they adore.
Well, it turns out that George's real father wants his son back, and the Colonel and Ruth don't want him to go. The Colonel is also sad because he feels that his daughter, Julie, hates him. George runs away, and Ruth says something hurtful to Julie. In the next scene, Julie is in the Camden's kitchen late at night, with a bottle of wine and a glass. Her father is alone outside, and he's sad because George is leaving.
Right when Aunt Julie is about to take her fateful drink, we hear Matt Camden (the oldest Camden child) say, "I thought I'd find you here." He must have been standing there all that time!
Julie tells him that she just can't take it anymore. She can't cope, especially not with her parents. Matt then points to the Colonel sitting outside, and he says, "What you want is in that glass. What you need is out there."
What she wanted was obviously more attractive than what she needed. She wanted to feel good, and that could come easily: all she had to do was drink from her glass. But she needed to reach out to her father, and that was hard for her, since he could be intimidating. At the same time, what she wanted--alcohol--wouldn't bear much good fruit for anyone--herself or others.
And so Julie goes outside and comforts her dad. The two reconcile, and they live happily ever after.
I know it's only a story, since life doesn't always have a happy ending. But what Matt said was powerful. When I drank, I wanted to feel better. That's why I drank when I was by myself. When I was in a group, I drank to loosen up socially, or to get attention, or just to endure a situation that I considered intimidating (i.e., being in a group). But drinking was not exactly a cure, for it made me very passive. It dulled my mind, making it easier for me to withdraw more and more into myself. I was not reaching out to others. I was not boldly engaging tasks that intimidated me. On some level, I got what I wanted: the good feelings that came with drinking. But I was not getting what I needed: the fruitful activity that can accompany sobriety.
When I think back to my DePauw days, which were before I drank, I realize that I had many of the same problems back then that I have right now: shyness, introversion, timidity, etc. (Not that I'm drinking now. I'm not.) But, in those days, I at least talked when I went out with people. I didn't do that as much in my drinking days. I turned to drinking to help me socially, but it was having the opposite effect.
I think that sobriety is good because it enables me to be active. My mind is not dulled when I am sober, so, when I find myself in situations that make me uncomfortable, I have to do SOMETHING. It's fight or flight! My sobriety is my ally in all sorts of situations! Overall, doing something with a clear mind is productive. It can give me a sense of self-esteem, as well as hopefully help someone else.
Aunt Julie is Reverend Eric Camden's sister, and she's a recovering alcoholic. She had a lot of success as a school principal, but she lost her job and her friendships due to her drinking. My recovery was not exactly like hers, since I never had any withdrawal symptoms, whereas she practically had to be locked inside a room. And people wonder why I was reluctant to call myself an alcoholic! Maybe it's because of the extreme way that they are portrayed on television. "I'm not like that," I could say to myself.
But, getting back to our topic, both aunt Julie and Eric Camden were raised by two hard-core, intimidating parents: Colonel John Camden and his wife, Ruth. I love the episodes that have the Colonel, but I can see how he'd drive someone to drink! But the Colonel and Ruth have found some happiness lately, since they adopted 10 year old George, whom they adore.
Well, it turns out that George's real father wants his son back, and the Colonel and Ruth don't want him to go. The Colonel is also sad because he feels that his daughter, Julie, hates him. George runs away, and Ruth says something hurtful to Julie. In the next scene, Julie is in the Camden's kitchen late at night, with a bottle of wine and a glass. Her father is alone outside, and he's sad because George is leaving.
Right when Aunt Julie is about to take her fateful drink, we hear Matt Camden (the oldest Camden child) say, "I thought I'd find you here." He must have been standing there all that time!
Julie tells him that she just can't take it anymore. She can't cope, especially not with her parents. Matt then points to the Colonel sitting outside, and he says, "What you want is in that glass. What you need is out there."
What she wanted was obviously more attractive than what she needed. She wanted to feel good, and that could come easily: all she had to do was drink from her glass. But she needed to reach out to her father, and that was hard for her, since he could be intimidating. At the same time, what she wanted--alcohol--wouldn't bear much good fruit for anyone--herself or others.
And so Julie goes outside and comforts her dad. The two reconcile, and they live happily ever after.
I know it's only a story, since life doesn't always have a happy ending. But what Matt said was powerful. When I drank, I wanted to feel better. That's why I drank when I was by myself. When I was in a group, I drank to loosen up socially, or to get attention, or just to endure a situation that I considered intimidating (i.e., being in a group). But drinking was not exactly a cure, for it made me very passive. It dulled my mind, making it easier for me to withdraw more and more into myself. I was not reaching out to others. I was not boldly engaging tasks that intimidated me. On some level, I got what I wanted: the good feelings that came with drinking. But I was not getting what I needed: the fruitful activity that can accompany sobriety.
When I think back to my DePauw days, which were before I drank, I realize that I had many of the same problems back then that I have right now: shyness, introversion, timidity, etc. (Not that I'm drinking now. I'm not.) But, in those days, I at least talked when I went out with people. I didn't do that as much in my drinking days. I turned to drinking to help me socially, but it was having the opposite effect.
I think that sobriety is good because it enables me to be active. My mind is not dulled when I am sober, so, when I find myself in situations that make me uncomfortable, I have to do SOMETHING. It's fight or flight! My sobriety is my ally in all sorts of situations! Overall, doing something with a clear mind is productive. It can give me a sense of self-esteem, as well as hopefully help someone else.
My Old Origen Posts
I wrote some posts on Origen in November for my weekly quiet time, which was then on the Book of Joshua. I did not publish them because I was saving them for a slow day, when I'd have no idea what to write about. But I don't have too many of those. Sometimes, I have tons of ideas, but I can only touch on a few of them on a given day. So I might as well publish my thoughts on Origen right now.
In my first post, I talk as if I'll be writing tons of stuff on Origen. But that's not what happened, since I only wrote two posts. There were days when I thought, "I should write about this," but I didn't get around to it. And, right now, I forget what the topic was that I was going to write about. And I'm not in the mood to comb through Origen trying to find it.
Enjoy these posts! I'll be writing some more today on other topics, so stay tuned!
Origen
In my first post, I talk as if I'll be writing tons of stuff on Origen. But that's not what happened, since I only wrote two posts. There were days when I thought, "I should write about this," but I didn't get around to it. And, right now, I forget what the topic was that I was going to write about. And I'm not in the mood to comb through Origen trying to find it.
Enjoy these posts! I'll be writing some more today on other topics, so stay tuned!
Origen
Friday, June 20, 2008
Waltons: The Actress
I don't normally watch the Waltons, but there was an episode today that somewhat grabbed me. It was from the first season, and it concerned a big-time movie star who stayed with the Walton family.
Why did it grab me? For one, the actress was giving her driver a hard time, so I thought she may be a social snob. Consequently, I wanted to see how she'd treat the poor, seemingly backward Walton family. Second, I'm interested in shows that depict clashes between two different worlds: liberal and conservative, red and blue, religious and atheist, rich and poor, white and non-white. (You can probably gather that I'm a Norman Lear fan, even though I disagree with his politics!) What happens when two people from completely opposite backgrounds encounter one another? And how does each side change and grow through the interaction?
In this case, a big-city Hollywood actress was spending time with the rural, homey Walton family. She had to stay with them because her car was not running, and her connections were letting her down because they disliked her temper and the way she mistreated them. As far as her interaction with the Walton family was concerned, she was really nice to them. A few of the family members were fans of hers, and she enjoyed being appreciated (and gawked at by the Walton men).
Some of the family enjoyed having a celebrity in their home, but others wanted her to move on, and fast. Grandma in particular didn't like the way that she slept past noon, brought worldliness into the home, imposed extra housework on the Walton women, and attracted Grandpa's wandering eye. And Ma Walton thought the actress was a bad influence on Mary Ellen.
Although the actress was rich and successful, she didn't really like herself. When Ma Walton said that the world only needs one Alvira Drummond (the actress's name), Alvira overheard and replied, "I couldn't agree more."
But Alvira and the Walton family grew through their mutual interaction. Alvira was touched by the small-town values and wholesome sincerity that she encountered among the Waltons and their neighbors. The town organized a local performance to raise money for her trip to New York, and all the residents really appreciated her rendition of Shakespeare. Moved by conviction of sin and the kindness of strangers, she learned that she needed to treat people better.
But the growth was not one-sided, for Alvira had a positive effect on the family as well. Grandma and Olivia eventually liked her. And Alvira expressed admiration for John Boy's writing, which he was hiding from everyone else. When Alvira read one of John Boy's works in her performance, the audience was astounded by his eloquence. And so Alvira helped John Boy gain confidence as a writer, as he came to realize that he had something valuable to contribute.
Each side tended to admire the other. Alvira liked the wholesomeness of rural and small town America. And most of the Waltons were drawn to the glamour and importance of the big city. Alvira recognized that her life was missing something. And John Boy appreciated the validation of someone from a culture he considered more sophisticated than his own.
When Alvira read a passage from one of John Boy's writings, something he wrote stood out to me. He said that the word "home" was probably invented by someone who did not have a home. This fit Alvira, who didn't belong to any family. She was rather shallow and narcissistic, and so she learned the values of love, sacrifice, and giving from the Waltons. But the passage also made me think about Michael Landon, who had a horrible childhood, yet depicted a happy family on Little House on the Prairie. He was showing the world what he wished he had as a child. He knew what a home was partly because he did not have one.
That's why I enjoy reading non-Christian books about Christianity, or the part of Christian testimonies in which the narrator describes his pre-Christian, "spiritually searching" stage. Whenever I see The Ten Commandments, I like Moses when he went to seek his God better than Moses after he found his God. There is a certain purity to a spiritual quest--a conviction that the world has to make sense, coexisting with a disappointment that it often does not; a growing disenchantment with the idols of this world; a sense that there is something deeper and wholesome that gives life meaning. But, at the same time, it's good when people find what they've been looking for. That shows that desire is not all there is, for it can be fulfilled by someone real.
Growth. Desire. This Waltons episode touched on a lot!
Why did it grab me? For one, the actress was giving her driver a hard time, so I thought she may be a social snob. Consequently, I wanted to see how she'd treat the poor, seemingly backward Walton family. Second, I'm interested in shows that depict clashes between two different worlds: liberal and conservative, red and blue, religious and atheist, rich and poor, white and non-white. (You can probably gather that I'm a Norman Lear fan, even though I disagree with his politics!) What happens when two people from completely opposite backgrounds encounter one another? And how does each side change and grow through the interaction?
In this case, a big-city Hollywood actress was spending time with the rural, homey Walton family. She had to stay with them because her car was not running, and her connections were letting her down because they disliked her temper and the way she mistreated them. As far as her interaction with the Walton family was concerned, she was really nice to them. A few of the family members were fans of hers, and she enjoyed being appreciated (and gawked at by the Walton men).
Some of the family enjoyed having a celebrity in their home, but others wanted her to move on, and fast. Grandma in particular didn't like the way that she slept past noon, brought worldliness into the home, imposed extra housework on the Walton women, and attracted Grandpa's wandering eye. And Ma Walton thought the actress was a bad influence on Mary Ellen.
Although the actress was rich and successful, she didn't really like herself. When Ma Walton said that the world only needs one Alvira Drummond (the actress's name), Alvira overheard and replied, "I couldn't agree more."
But Alvira and the Walton family grew through their mutual interaction. Alvira was touched by the small-town values and wholesome sincerity that she encountered among the Waltons and their neighbors. The town organized a local performance to raise money for her trip to New York, and all the residents really appreciated her rendition of Shakespeare. Moved by conviction of sin and the kindness of strangers, she learned that she needed to treat people better.
But the growth was not one-sided, for Alvira had a positive effect on the family as well. Grandma and Olivia eventually liked her. And Alvira expressed admiration for John Boy's writing, which he was hiding from everyone else. When Alvira read one of John Boy's works in her performance, the audience was astounded by his eloquence. And so Alvira helped John Boy gain confidence as a writer, as he came to realize that he had something valuable to contribute.
Each side tended to admire the other. Alvira liked the wholesomeness of rural and small town America. And most of the Waltons were drawn to the glamour and importance of the big city. Alvira recognized that her life was missing something. And John Boy appreciated the validation of someone from a culture he considered more sophisticated than his own.
When Alvira read a passage from one of John Boy's writings, something he wrote stood out to me. He said that the word "home" was probably invented by someone who did not have a home. This fit Alvira, who didn't belong to any family. She was rather shallow and narcissistic, and so she learned the values of love, sacrifice, and giving from the Waltons. But the passage also made me think about Michael Landon, who had a horrible childhood, yet depicted a happy family on Little House on the Prairie. He was showing the world what he wished he had as a child. He knew what a home was partly because he did not have one.
That's why I enjoy reading non-Christian books about Christianity, or the part of Christian testimonies in which the narrator describes his pre-Christian, "spiritually searching" stage. Whenever I see The Ten Commandments, I like Moses when he went to seek his God better than Moses after he found his God. There is a certain purity to a spiritual quest--a conviction that the world has to make sense, coexisting with a disappointment that it often does not; a growing disenchantment with the idols of this world; a sense that there is something deeper and wholesome that gives life meaning. But, at the same time, it's good when people find what they've been looking for. That shows that desire is not all there is, for it can be fulfilled by someone real.
Growth. Desire. This Waltons episode touched on a lot!
Thursday, June 19, 2008
From the Library 2
I'm still working my way through John Marks' Reasons to Believe: One Man's Journey among the Evangelicals and the Faith He Left Behind, and Bruce Bartlett's Wrong on Race: The Democratic Party's Buried Past. These books have lots of jewels, let me tell you, and I will be sharing them with my readers in days to come.
If I follow my reading schedule, I'll have these books finished this week. That's why I checked out some more books in my trip today to downtown Cincinnati. There were many books that appeared somewhat interesting, but they didn't exactly grab me. One was a biography of Condi Rice. Another was a psychological profile of Clarence Thomas. And then there's that biography of Ariel Sharon that I keep passing, but never check out. Maybe some other time!
There were three books that grabbed me, in the sense that they looked enjoyable and worthwhile to read. Here they are, along with an explanation of why they intrigued me:
1. Gabriel Cohen, A Buddhist Path through Divorce (Philadelphia: De Capo Press, 2008).
This is about a man whose marriage fell apart, and he found comfort in Buddhism. Buddhism is a popular religion among many who are burned out by conservative Christianity. I've met lots of people from Bible belt Protestantism and Roman Catholicism who say, "I consider myself a Buddhist."
They usually strike me as people who have inner peace. Their religion seems very serene. I feel a sense of relaxation when I hear them talk about going out into nature on retreats for meditation. And I can somewhat understand Buddhism's appeal, for the religion has a certain mysterious quality, being from the east and all. Still, I don't comprehend how anyone can find comfort in a religion that lacks a personal God. Granted, I may sometimes view God as intrusive, inflexible, and authoritarian, but, on the whole, I want him around as a personal presence--one who loves, nurtures, and comforts.
I once watched a documentary about the popular TV series, Dallas. The guy who played Bobby Ewing, Patrick Duffy, is a Buddhist, and his religion helped him after his parents got killed in a robbery. My problem was that he passively accepted their death as a natural part of life. There was no sorrow, none that I could see. His religion seemed to suck his emotions right out of him, making him somewhat of a vulcan.
And, from my undergraduate study of Buddhism, that's my impression of what it's all about: it wants us to get rid of all desire and attachments. And that should take care of all our greed, lust, envy, and disappointment. It reminds me of what Yoda tells Anakin in Revenge of the Sith, when Anakin expresses fear that someone close to him may die: "Mourn them not, miss them not!" But that kind of life strikes me as so GRAY. No desires? No attachments? At least Christianity allows us to find happiness in a personal relationship with Jesus. It offers rewards, both in this life and also the life to come. In essence, Christianity compensates us for our lost greed and lust by emphasizing something positive. It does not just suppress the negative.
But my image of Buddhism may not be completely accurate. I know a man who is a Zen Buddhist monk, and he has a beautiful wife and an adorable child. (He told me with a wink that he's becoming more conservative now that he's a parent!) He apparently has happiness!
This book appeals to me because I love spiritual autobiographies, and I think this is an opportunity for me to enjoy a good story while learning about Buddhism. And, in the process, maybe I can understand why more Americans are becoming drawn to it!
2. David Klinghoffer, How Would God Vote? Why the Bible Commands You to Be a Conservative (New York: Doubleday, 2008). David Klinghoffer is a religious Jew who is also a political conservative. If memory serves me correctly, he even defended Mel Gibson's Passion of the Christ. One of my Jewish professors cannot stand him, even though he does admire another Jewish conservative, Michael Medved.
This book piqued my interest because it not only covers gay marriage and the death penalty, which have some pretty clear proof-texts backing up the conservative side. Rather, it also discusses immigration, the environment, poverty, and health care. And I'm interested in why he thinks the Bible favors the conservative side on those issues. Regarding poverty and (indirectly) health care, the Torah presents something like a welfare system, in that the ancient Israelites were to collect a tithe for the poor every three years, as well as leave the corners of their fields for the poor. And that wasn't voluntary charity! It was mandated, like taxes! For the environment, the Hebrew Bible celebrates God's creation and exhorts human beings to be good stewards. On immigration, the Torah told ancient Israel to love the stranger. And so I'm sitting on the edge of my seat, waiting to see what Klinghoffer does with these motifs!
3. Victor Kuligin, Ten Things I Wish Jesus Never Said (Wheaton: Crossway, 2006). This sounds like a book that I would write, but, as I looked through it, I saw that it's not. The author, a Christian professor in Namibia, doesn't seem to complain about Jesus' apparently problematic statements, but he attempts to justify them after thoughtful reflection. Maybe he'll offer some new thoughts that I've never encountered.
I'll keep you posted!
If I follow my reading schedule, I'll have these books finished this week. That's why I checked out some more books in my trip today to downtown Cincinnati. There were many books that appeared somewhat interesting, but they didn't exactly grab me. One was a biography of Condi Rice. Another was a psychological profile of Clarence Thomas. And then there's that biography of Ariel Sharon that I keep passing, but never check out. Maybe some other time!
There were three books that grabbed me, in the sense that they looked enjoyable and worthwhile to read. Here they are, along with an explanation of why they intrigued me:
1. Gabriel Cohen, A Buddhist Path through Divorce (Philadelphia: De Capo Press, 2008).
This is about a man whose marriage fell apart, and he found comfort in Buddhism. Buddhism is a popular religion among many who are burned out by conservative Christianity. I've met lots of people from Bible belt Protestantism and Roman Catholicism who say, "I consider myself a Buddhist."
They usually strike me as people who have inner peace. Their religion seems very serene. I feel a sense of relaxation when I hear them talk about going out into nature on retreats for meditation. And I can somewhat understand Buddhism's appeal, for the religion has a certain mysterious quality, being from the east and all. Still, I don't comprehend how anyone can find comfort in a religion that lacks a personal God. Granted, I may sometimes view God as intrusive, inflexible, and authoritarian, but, on the whole, I want him around as a personal presence--one who loves, nurtures, and comforts.
I once watched a documentary about the popular TV series, Dallas. The guy who played Bobby Ewing, Patrick Duffy, is a Buddhist, and his religion helped him after his parents got killed in a robbery. My problem was that he passively accepted their death as a natural part of life. There was no sorrow, none that I could see. His religion seemed to suck his emotions right out of him, making him somewhat of a vulcan.
And, from my undergraduate study of Buddhism, that's my impression of what it's all about: it wants us to get rid of all desire and attachments. And that should take care of all our greed, lust, envy, and disappointment. It reminds me of what Yoda tells Anakin in Revenge of the Sith, when Anakin expresses fear that someone close to him may die: "Mourn them not, miss them not!" But that kind of life strikes me as so GRAY. No desires? No attachments? At least Christianity allows us to find happiness in a personal relationship with Jesus. It offers rewards, both in this life and also the life to come. In essence, Christianity compensates us for our lost greed and lust by emphasizing something positive. It does not just suppress the negative.
But my image of Buddhism may not be completely accurate. I know a man who is a Zen Buddhist monk, and he has a beautiful wife and an adorable child. (He told me with a wink that he's becoming more conservative now that he's a parent!) He apparently has happiness!
This book appeals to me because I love spiritual autobiographies, and I think this is an opportunity for me to enjoy a good story while learning about Buddhism. And, in the process, maybe I can understand why more Americans are becoming drawn to it!
2. David Klinghoffer, How Would God Vote? Why the Bible Commands You to Be a Conservative (New York: Doubleday, 2008). David Klinghoffer is a religious Jew who is also a political conservative. If memory serves me correctly, he even defended Mel Gibson's Passion of the Christ. One of my Jewish professors cannot stand him, even though he does admire another Jewish conservative, Michael Medved.
This book piqued my interest because it not only covers gay marriage and the death penalty, which have some pretty clear proof-texts backing up the conservative side. Rather, it also discusses immigration, the environment, poverty, and health care. And I'm interested in why he thinks the Bible favors the conservative side on those issues. Regarding poverty and (indirectly) health care, the Torah presents something like a welfare system, in that the ancient Israelites were to collect a tithe for the poor every three years, as well as leave the corners of their fields for the poor. And that wasn't voluntary charity! It was mandated, like taxes! For the environment, the Hebrew Bible celebrates God's creation and exhorts human beings to be good stewards. On immigration, the Torah told ancient Israel to love the stranger. And so I'm sitting on the edge of my seat, waiting to see what Klinghoffer does with these motifs!
3. Victor Kuligin, Ten Things I Wish Jesus Never Said (Wheaton: Crossway, 2006). This sounds like a book that I would write, but, as I looked through it, I saw that it's not. The author, a Christian professor in Namibia, doesn't seem to complain about Jesus' apparently problematic statements, but he attempts to justify them after thoughtful reflection. Maybe he'll offer some new thoughts that I've never encountered.
I'll keep you posted!
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