Senator John Ensign of Nevada, Governor Mark Sanford of South Carolina, and Senator David Vitter of Louisiana are all professed Christian conservatives. Yet Ensign and Sanford recently admitted having extra-marital affairs and Vitter admitted visiting a prostitute. Senator Larry Craig, a religious conservative from Idaho, denied trying to have sex with a man in a bathroom stall but the evidence suggests otherwise. Despite claiming to be deeply religious, reality show stars Jon and Kate are getting a divorce and Jon reportedly had an affair with a third grade teacher. A USA Today column asks if Christian conservatives were seduced by the two, who “appeared flagrantly Christian: wearing Scripture-slogan shirts; speaking at churches, citing their faith for their refusal to pursue embryo-reduction for a safer, smaller pregnancy.”
Conservatives do not have a monopoly on extra-marital affairs, of course. The current and former governors of New York and John Edwards are examples of Democrats engaging in similar behavior. A reasonable assumption is that the rate at which people deal with their sexuality in destructive ways is the same for liberals and conservatives. Still, there seems to be something particularly hypocritical, or least paradoxical, when conservatives violate so blatantly the rules of conduct they have trumpeted so loudly. But, is there any inconsistency between these kinds of affairs and religious values? Does God have anything to do with Governor Sanford’s affair?
According to Sanford it does: He said at his press conference admitting the affair: “I am here because if you were to look at God’s laws, they are in every instance designed to protect people from themselves. It’s not a moral, rigid list of do’s and don’ts, just for the heck of do’s and don’ts. It is, indeed, to protect us from ourselves.” The idea seems to be that humans are weak and that there are certain kinds of conduct – unfortunately, they often are very pleasurable – that are self-destructive. God does not want us to engage in these kinds of conduct because they are bad for us. The image is that God is a parent and we are children. If we only learn the rules and comply with them, we will not get ourselves in trouble.
There are two problems with this formulation. The first problem is the idea of the rule book itself. It is not obvious what conduct is against the rules and, as practical matter, it is often a zealous majority, not God, who comes up with rules of conduct. That in turn can lead to laws that regulate our private lives, from what we read to what we do in bed with a consenting adult partner. The second problem with Sanford’s formulation is that it suggests the most important consideration is one’s own welfare, or in his words, “[protecting] people from themselves.” That is fundamentally different from what Jesus taught, of course. Recall Jesus’ famous answer to the rabbis who tried to trap him by asking him to identify the most important commandment. Jesus responded with two laws, not one: Love God and love your neighbor as yourself. That is a remarkably modern and insightful formulation that has nothing to do with dietary laws or rituals or particular rules about sexuality. It puts others first, not ourselves.
In The Uncertain Believer, I argue that those two “laws” are really different ways of saying the same thing. Once modern humans begin to think of God as the central unifying idea of unqualified compassion for others rather than the powerful being imagined by our pre-scientific answers, it makes no sense to talk about “God’s laws.” God has no “law” against adultery or even against having sex with someone in a bathroom stall. However, loving God in the sense of committing ourselves to the idea of compassion for others means that there is a “law” – or at least a principle – that we should not inflict pain on our families through selfish and irresponsible behavior.
It is certainly possible to have sympathy for Governor Sanford as an ordinary, flawed human being after listening to his rambling press conference. Feeling a powerful urge to have sex outside of marriage is common and millions have acted on that urge in foolish and destructive ways. But Sanford did not violate one of God’s laws by failing to protect himself. In my view, he failed to love God by failing to be compassionate with his family. Jesus would have said that he violated one of the two great laws for living. A modern view would be that these two laws merge into one unifying idea that we should always be compassionate and loving toward others. That very simple but very powerful idea gives us a framework for living. However one chooses to formulate it, the important point is that we see there is a relationship between God and our sexuality, just as there is between God and the rest our lives. If God is important to us, we commit ourselves to the principle of compassion for others, starting with our families.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Thursday, June 18, 2009
A Robin’s Nest Tragedy
Three weeks ago, my wife discovered a robin’s nest on the window sill outside our guest bedroom window. One morning, there were four perfectly shaped blue eggs. We were incredibly excited to have such a wonderful view of the nest. I had visions of taking pictures of the entire process, from the eggs hatching to the baby birds leaving the nest.
It was difficult to get a picture of the mother robin sitting on the nest. We learned that robins have sensitive hearing, and, if she heard noise through the window, she flew off. Her instinct is to escape from predators and leave the nest, even if the eggs are exposed. Most robins live only a year but those that grow to maturity can leave five years or more and lay eggs two or three times each season. Thus, it’s better for her to survive and lay eggs another day.
One morning there were only three eggs. We realized that this is was not going to be an entirely smooth process. While the nest was visible to us, it was also easily accessible to the neighborhood crows, which are natural predators. Still there were three eggs left and three days ago, they hatched! The baby birds were scrawny and pink, barely recognizable as birds, but we could see their little beaks reach up for food. Then two days ago, there were only two birds left. We were stunned. By the end of the day, there weren’t any! The mother bird never came back. The nest sits empty on the window sill. The entire brutal process in which predators, probably crows, ate the baby robins took less than twenty-four hours. A fortunate nest location for us turned out to be a bad mistake for the baby birds.
We talked about why we felt so bad. We agreed that we should not project human emotions on to the mother robin. Although the brain of a robin is large relative to its weight, it is still tiny compared to human brains. The robin brain has no complex limbic system, which generates and modulates emotions. It doesn’t make sense to say that the mother bird is “grieving.” The mother robin does not look for meaning when she loses all her babies to predators. She does not try to understand how this tragedy fits into a divine plan. Her instincts drive her to find a mate and lay eggs again, maybe in a few weeks. We understand that looking for a divine plan when crows eat baby birds is silly.
It is very difficult to accept the idea that we, like robins, lead lives filled with tragedies that make no sense. We want to find meaning when children die or when loving, generous friends are cut down by cancer. We want to believe that God works in mysterious ways and that there must be some overarching plan that is too complex for us to understand. Those who can find comfort in this vision are fortunate, and there is no need for them to find another path. But for those who cannot, the task is to find meaning despite the tragedies that strike all of us at one time or another. In The Uncertain Believer, I describe one path in which there is a central role for God, but in which there is no divine plan or belief in an anthropomorphic God that intervenes in the word. This is not a path for everyone, although I believe it is a good one for many. Whatever path one chooses, we can learn this lesson from the robin: There will be tragedies, but we can live for another day.
It was difficult to get a picture of the mother robin sitting on the nest. We learned that robins have sensitive hearing, and, if she heard noise through the window, she flew off. Her instinct is to escape from predators and leave the nest, even if the eggs are exposed. Most robins live only a year but those that grow to maturity can leave five years or more and lay eggs two or three times each season. Thus, it’s better for her to survive and lay eggs another day.
One morning there were only three eggs. We realized that this is was not going to be an entirely smooth process. While the nest was visible to us, it was also easily accessible to the neighborhood crows, which are natural predators. Still there were three eggs left and three days ago, they hatched! The baby birds were scrawny and pink, barely recognizable as birds, but we could see their little beaks reach up for food. Then two days ago, there were only two birds left. We were stunned. By the end of the day, there weren’t any! The mother bird never came back. The nest sits empty on the window sill. The entire brutal process in which predators, probably crows, ate the baby robins took less than twenty-four hours. A fortunate nest location for us turned out to be a bad mistake for the baby birds.
We talked about why we felt so bad. We agreed that we should not project human emotions on to the mother robin. Although the brain of a robin is large relative to its weight, it is still tiny compared to human brains. The robin brain has no complex limbic system, which generates and modulates emotions. It doesn’t make sense to say that the mother bird is “grieving.” The mother robin does not look for meaning when she loses all her babies to predators. She does not try to understand how this tragedy fits into a divine plan. Her instincts drive her to find a mate and lay eggs again, maybe in a few weeks. We understand that looking for a divine plan when crows eat baby birds is silly.
It is very difficult to accept the idea that we, like robins, lead lives filled with tragedies that make no sense. We want to find meaning when children die or when loving, generous friends are cut down by cancer. We want to believe that God works in mysterious ways and that there must be some overarching plan that is too complex for us to understand. Those who can find comfort in this vision are fortunate, and there is no need for them to find another path. But for those who cannot, the task is to find meaning despite the tragedies that strike all of us at one time or another. In The Uncertain Believer, I describe one path in which there is a central role for God, but in which there is no divine plan or belief in an anthropomorphic God that intervenes in the word. This is not a path for everyone, although I believe it is a good one for many. Whatever path one chooses, we can learn this lesson from the robin: There will be tragedies, but we can live for another day.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Are We Making a Mistake Waiting for God-ot?
My wife and I recently watched a wonderful production of Waiting for Godot in New York with Nathan Lane and John Goodman. There are many possible interpretations of Samuel Beckett’s play, which has been recognized as one of the most important of the twentieth century. Beckett himself refused to say much about its deeper meaning. His typical comment was something like: “It is what it is. You figure it out.”
One of the most obvious ways to read the play is to identify Godot as God and assume the two men on the country road – Estragon and Vladimir -- are waiting to meet God at the end of their lives. (As is typically done in European productions, the actors in this production put the accent on the first syllable of Godot: “god´-oh”.) Thus, Godot is audibly identified with God throughout the play.
The human condition is that death is inevitable and “there is nothing to be done,” as the characters say several times. Death can come unexpectedly, seemingly with no reason. A local landowner, Pozzo, passes by with a servant, Lucky. Pozzo says: “Behind this veil of gentleness and peace, night is charging and will burst upon us – pop! – just when we least expect it. That’s how it is on this bitch of an earth.”
A young boy comes to tell Estragon and Vladimir that Godot will not come today but “surely tomorrow.” He describes Godot as having a white beard. Lucky describes a “personal God” as having a white beard. This is the conventional image of God but this is the God that never comes. The central mistake is to wait for a God who is going to lift our burdens at the end life rather than seeing God as a central part of our life. As a result, we can become spiritually paralyzed and fail to find the meaning in life that is possible now. The play concludes (with some lines omitted):
Vladimir: We’ll hang ourselves tomorrow. Unless Godot comes.
Estragon: And if he comes?
Valdimir: We’ll be saved….
Estragon: Well? Shall we go?...
Vladimir: Well? Shall we go?
Estragon: Yes, let’s go.
(Stage direction: They do not move.)
One of the most obvious ways to read the play is to identify Godot as God and assume the two men on the country road – Estragon and Vladimir -- are waiting to meet God at the end of their lives. (As is typically done in European productions, the actors in this production put the accent on the first syllable of Godot: “god´-oh”.) Thus, Godot is audibly identified with God throughout the play.
The human condition is that death is inevitable and “there is nothing to be done,” as the characters say several times. Death can come unexpectedly, seemingly with no reason. A local landowner, Pozzo, passes by with a servant, Lucky. Pozzo says: “Behind this veil of gentleness and peace, night is charging and will burst upon us – pop! – just when we least expect it. That’s how it is on this bitch of an earth.”
A young boy comes to tell Estragon and Vladimir that Godot will not come today but “surely tomorrow.” He describes Godot as having a white beard. Lucky describes a “personal God” as having a white beard. This is the conventional image of God but this is the God that never comes. The central mistake is to wait for a God who is going to lift our burdens at the end life rather than seeing God as a central part of our life. As a result, we can become spiritually paralyzed and fail to find the meaning in life that is possible now. The play concludes (with some lines omitted):
Vladimir: We’ll hang ourselves tomorrow. Unless Godot comes.
Estragon: And if he comes?
Valdimir: We’ll be saved….
Estragon: Well? Shall we go?...
Vladimir: Well? Shall we go?
Estragon: Yes, let’s go.
(Stage direction: They do not move.)
Monday, June 1, 2009
Is God More Like a Magician, Doctor or Teacher?
What job category best fits your conception of God? For our pre-scientific ancestors who wrote the Old Testament, God was like a very powerful magician. He could change the laws of nature to further his often mysterious purposes. For example, God gives Moses and Aaron the ability to throw down a staff before the Pharaoh and turn it into a snake. Exodus 7:8-10. A more violent show of power occurs when God enables Elijah to do battle with the prophets of Baal and eventually kill all 450 of them. I Kings 18. And, of course, his most far-reaching display of power was the creation of the universe itself. This God was not particularly loving and forgiving, but if you complied with his rules, his powers would be used on your side, not on your enemy’s.
With the advance of science, the typical conception of God has changed from God as a powerful magician to God as a divine doctor. Most people still think of God in anthropomorphic terms. They refer to God as “He” and imagine a God with a human-like personality. Recent surveys show an increasing number of people who refer to God a “higher power” but do not think of a personal God. Nevertheless, many in both groups think of God as a force that mitigates the pain of life. They rely on the idea of God to reduce the anxiety and stress of life. They look to God to give them comfort at a time of sorrow, such as the death of a loved one. Most of all, they imagine a God who gives eternal life and, thus, provides a means to escape the ultimate pain of death.
I do not want to diminish this role of God as doctor. Millions of people derive enormous comfort from this idea of God, particularly in times of tragedy. However, the paradigm of God as doctor has two major limitations. First, the reduction in suffering is often temporary. A spiritual experience may be comforting, even exhilarating, but the pain of life returns after it is over. God as doctor does not provide a permanent framework for living. Second, many find it hard to accept the assumptions required to experience this escape from suffering, particularly the beautiful vision of life after death. Those who cannot accept this vision must deal with the eventual end of existence, not just their own own, but that of their loved ones.
I want to suggest a third job category: God as teacher. I do not mean God is a divine being who functions as a cosmic professor. Instead, imagine God as a source of ideas and attitudes. In this conception, God does not eliminate suffering, at least directly. Like teachers in real life, God imposes obligations and demands, namely that we live up to a set of standards. It may be that when we live up to those standards, or come as close as we can, we find the burdens of life are lifted. But that is because we discovered how to lift them ourselves. Perhaps it is more accurate to say that God is wisdom, and we are students who have to be our own teachers, too. In that way, we are not much different from the followers of Jesus, who was after all a teacher himself. What is John 3:16 if not the most important lesson in all of human history?
With the advance of science, the typical conception of God has changed from God as a powerful magician to God as a divine doctor. Most people still think of God in anthropomorphic terms. They refer to God as “He” and imagine a God with a human-like personality. Recent surveys show an increasing number of people who refer to God a “higher power” but do not think of a personal God. Nevertheless, many in both groups think of God as a force that mitigates the pain of life. They rely on the idea of God to reduce the anxiety and stress of life. They look to God to give them comfort at a time of sorrow, such as the death of a loved one. Most of all, they imagine a God who gives eternal life and, thus, provides a means to escape the ultimate pain of death.
I do not want to diminish this role of God as doctor. Millions of people derive enormous comfort from this idea of God, particularly in times of tragedy. However, the paradigm of God as doctor has two major limitations. First, the reduction in suffering is often temporary. A spiritual experience may be comforting, even exhilarating, but the pain of life returns after it is over. God as doctor does not provide a permanent framework for living. Second, many find it hard to accept the assumptions required to experience this escape from suffering, particularly the beautiful vision of life after death. Those who cannot accept this vision must deal with the eventual end of existence, not just their own own, but that of their loved ones.
I want to suggest a third job category: God as teacher. I do not mean God is a divine being who functions as a cosmic professor. Instead, imagine God as a source of ideas and attitudes. In this conception, God does not eliminate suffering, at least directly. Like teachers in real life, God imposes obligations and demands, namely that we live up to a set of standards. It may be that when we live up to those standards, or come as close as we can, we find the burdens of life are lifted. But that is because we discovered how to lift them ourselves. Perhaps it is more accurate to say that God is wisdom, and we are students who have to be our own teachers, too. In that way, we are not much different from the followers of Jesus, who was after all a teacher himself. What is John 3:16 if not the most important lesson in all of human history?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
