A Radical Transformation

"...Thy kingdom come" we find in the middle of arguably the most recognizable prayer in history. "My Kingdom is not of this world" the same figure said towards the end of his life.
But do we really understand what Christ meant by His Kingdom? Augustine gives us a quite lengthy explanation in The City of God. Many theologians since Augustine, including Erasmus and Kierkegaard have also addressed the issue of being a member of this body politic.
The real question, though, is whether or not it should be a body politic. It is obvious in the way that Church was married to state pre-seventeenth century that Christians believed so. Even in the twentieth century thought, Catholicism was seen as needing political affiliation. In the most recent election the issue of abortion, an issue most Catholics see as tied to the Right to Life, was a more key issue to many Catholics voting than real politics.
However, to reiterate, Christ does not say that His Kingdom is of this world. It is NOT a political body. It is not a state nor is it fully realized in any form here. We would like to believe that the Church is the embodiment of Christ's Kingdom on earth. If this is the case, however, then why do we still pray, "Thy kingdom come" during Mass?
No, Christ's Kingdom is not here yet. It is an eschatological reality, not a contemporary one. We cannot expect to see Christ's Kingdom realized on earth yet while we live. However, as we pray for it to come, so we are obligated to work for its coming.
Thus, though His Kingdom is not yet realized, as disciples of Christ we are called to make it realized. In practical application, this means whatever things we imagine Christ's Kingdom as being, we ought to work for. If we are unsure of what this is, the Gospel gives us great insight to this.
Regarding those ostracized by society, do we not read that Jesus ate with the sinners and dwelt with the poor? Concerning distinctions and ranks among ourselves, does not Paul tell us that in Christ there is no longer "bond nor free, woman nor man, Jew nor Gentile but all one body in Christ?" Concerning our ethics does not Jesus present to us in the Beatitudes a basic recipe of Christian life? Blessed are the poor...the meek...the humble...the poor in spirit...the merciful...the peacemakers.
This then is our basic plan. Like any system which people utilize to better themselves, this program takes real application. Rather than simply blessing the poor, we ought to embrace poverty. Rather than defending our harmful distinctions, we ought to embrace our singularity in Christ. Rather than reviling the wicked (and this is often the hardest) we ought to reach out to them.
Verily, the truth of the Gospels is that if we seek to be Christlike we should find no surprise in being ourselves ostracized by those who we think to be our own kind. Christ was warmly accepted by the Samaritans, outcasts of even Judaean life, and Roman officials while hated by the Jewish elite, those whom we walked among and whom he identified himself with. If we follow the example of Christ, then, we should not be surprised to often find ourselves friends of the atheists, Buddhists, Hindus, Jews and Muslims sometimes before other Christians.
This is the critical distinction in Kierkegaard's mind in being a member of Christianity and Christendom. To be truly Christian, one must be ostracized as Christ was; must suffer and find himself abandoned by those from whom he expects support while members of Christendom often inherit privileges in state and society, a position that Christ Himself refused.
Thus, bringing about the Kingdom of God requires us to step out of our comfort zone. "To mourn with those who mourn" and "to be christs for one another" is the calling that St Paul teaches us the Christian is given. "Strait is the gate and narrow is the way that leads to eternal life." It is not an easy call, nor should it be. But this is what it is to be Christian, to be essentially human. We cannot ignore the cries of those who suffer around us simply so we can live in the lap of luxury.

Job and Hosea

As a theist, I have often encountered the Atheistically-aimed question of "Why do bad things happen to good people?" to which all I can truly answer is, "Why the hell not?"
I don't seek to demean personal problems nor the faith crisis of "Why won't God deliver me?" but I think our faith is exhibited, as well as our general character, in how we respond to the difficulties in life. If we are bellacose and pugnacious for every insignificant problem or conflict we encounter, we display that we really don't believe what we preach.
So I suppose one reason why we have difficulties, and I realize how very cliche this will be, is to test us. If we really believe in turning the other cheek and blessing our enemies, how can we abandon God when He doesn't want us to be miserable? Our true faith is often displayed not by the world being at peace, but by our own peace while the world rages in chaos. Can we truly stand at God's right hand while the world goes to Hell in a handbasket?
But I truly believe that there is more to the story than this. I realize stories like Job and Hosea portray hardship and trial as object lessons for us to learn from, but I do not believe that this is the case for us by and large.
This isn't to say that we should embrace a Kierkegaardian view on suffering. We should, indeed, suffer cheerfully. However, we need not seek out suffering. And indeed, much of our suffering is not due to anything that we could have or would have avoided. Any suffering that involves the decisions of another person, or even naturally occuring activities, cannot be voluntarily assumed by us. We can, as Kierkegaard did, abandon romantic relationships. However, we cannot induce heart attacks nor can we single-handedly destroy the economy, eliminating much needed jobs. So it is safe to say that this kind of suffering is much different than the voluntary kind.
I would submit that often times there is some kind of secret gem in store for those who patiently wait out the storm. Job was given more than he had after the great trial of his faith. I cannot guarantee this kind of grandeur, but perhaps we will be blessed greatly. Perhaps a rough time is necessary for us to receive some greater blessing. Perhaps being laid off will provide the ability to get a better job. Perhaps a death in the family will enable us to learn to mourn with those who mourn and teach us to be more sensitive to grief and more aware of our own feelings.
I do not mean to say that we should expect something amazing to come from the ashes of our heartache. However, I will suggest that neither can we know the will of God, nor can we dictate our terms with Him. Perhaps we are to be martyrs and die so that others can live. Perhaps we are to sacrifice all of our time and money to be buried in a pauper's grave but to raise up those who are disadvantaged. Maybe we must suffer many losses to learn how to comfort those who stand in need of comfort.
One might further wonder, "Can't God teach me this lesson in an easier way?" Aquinas demonstrated why there needs to be bad things happening to good people. If the world were just, then any injustice committed must be fully restored. However, there are countless injustices committed which have none to punish, whether by accident or intent. And punishment does not truly rectify an injustice as much as it seeks to replace what was lost with something that will equally be lost. Thus, if everyone were justly compensated for what they had lost, there would inevitably be some kind of great cosmic debt owed to all citizens of the world, which would yet be an injustice.
So, the good people will necessarily suffer. However, the good people, be they truly good people, should, in fact, be able to handle the suffering. Our faith should not falter, though it often does. Our belief should be strengthened instead of being weakened. We should seek God more and praise Him more after the trial than to blame Him and turn from Him.
As a closing thought, I would like to imply that a cheerful and faithful outlook in dire straits will leave us feeling happier after the dust has settled. Whether or not God will reward us directly for our faith is somewhat debatable. However, whether or not we feel good about our own reaction to it is not.

religio fidesque populis

The true Christian faces an unfair attack. Firstly, he must deal with the harrassment from the pugnacious non-believer. This includes not merely atheists and agnostics, but also those from other faiths as well. This isn't to say all people who are not Christian are bellacose, but there are those who attack Christianity from an outside perspective. Secondly, the Christian must also face the infidelity and persecution from other so-called Christians.
I shall address the issue of the so-called Christian first. Kierkegaard pointed out that not everyone who was under the banner of "Christianity" really followed Christ. For this purpose, SK preferred to refer to the Christian world, specifically Christian Europe, as Christendom.
I agree with this idea. Christianity has become too much of a world power. Granted, the Papal States are now reduced to simply the Vatican, but in America you can only get so far without claiming Christianity. Granted, Europe has lost it's Christian fervor, but here in the states, the name of the game is Evangelism and a great power lies behind it. However, the issue is not Christianity having a growing number of followers. On the contrary, the issue is Christianity relaxing the definition of what it means to be Christian. It is, however, the issue of abandoning basic Christian principles such as humility, charity, and patience while still claiming our actions to be the will of God. No person can take us seriously while we declare our selfish and destructive behaviors to be those of good Christians.
On the other hand are the non-believers. The true Christian faces ridicule from them precisely because of those so-called believers, Christendom. A person of good faith with works to support it and a true understanding of Christ's message is not the same as the person who attacks biological study on the basis of a message that doesn't align with the Genesis account of the beginning of the world. If we are truly working as Christ's messengers, then what atheists say should not become an issue for us to crucify them.
I am reminded of Islam from about 1000 to 1200. Muslim scholars endeavored to be scientifically minded and our own modern "scientific method" was devised by Muslim scientists. However, they didn't question their faith, no matter what results were found. A Muslim whose scientific data seemed to contradict his faith would normally choose one of the following options: either he was wrong about his experiment and misinterpreted the data, or he misunderstood his own faith. Never did they assume that their faith was completely incorrect. Nor did they ever question the empirical evidence before them. What they faced was a synthesis of science and faith, one that theologians and philosophers have been attempting to continue, but also one where the screams of the confused masses are heard loud and clear over the whispers of those who would seek to ease the tension.
Perhaps truly where Christianity started to go wrong was where every religion has. Historically speaking, religions tend to be ok until they become nationalized. Islamic theocracies tend to exhibit policies that are justified only because one امام (Emam) interpreted the اهدث (ahdith) and the قورأن (Qur'an) a certain way. Hindus in India exhibit violence because they are the national religion. Christianity went sour when Constantine made it the official religion of the empire. All of a sudden, what had been a way of life for those who truly believed in the teachings of Christ, now became a civil advantage to those in the Roman empire. A Christian, or at least someone who claimed to be such, had a measurable advantage over a pagan or a Jew. For Christianity in the rest of the world at the time, there were no such disadvantages. Thus, in the Middle East, Christians were a non-violent people, who still resembled their predecessors while those in Europe became increasingly more self-serving.
The same can be said for even sects of Christianity. A Lutheran in Germany had an advantage over a Catholic, to the point of blood, in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. In Northern Ireland today, a people who are officially protestant (the Northern Irish) are up against a people who had traditionally stayed Catholic (the Irish in general). And voters were surprised in 1960 when a Catholic was elected into the highest seat of power in a predominately Protestant nation.
But this even transcend the border of simple faith traditions. Nations that are officially atheist demonstrate this same kind of forced bullying with their ideals. The former Soviet Union took over many territories and nations that had been Christian and outlawed religion and atheist China went to arms against peace-loving, Buddhist Tibet. So we see that even the ban of religion is itself a national religion.
But the Christian man must overcome all this. He must truly be the Christian. He must not only be a martyr, but also an apologist. As Simone Weil said of her life, he must stand at the crossroads. He must be willing to bridge the gap that the human race is tearing into itself.
As men and women of faith, we ought to know that science cannot disprove our God. We cannot prove Him, but we cannot either disprove Him. Furthermore, we ought to know that because of this, we should net let our faith be shaken by this. We must stand firm in our faith, but must also be able to withstand the buffets of those who stand against our faith and those who parade about and make a mockery of it. The tragedy is that we are the minority trying to stand out against a majority that claims our name and another large group that associates us together. It is our duty to reach out to the world and show love and wisdom in our faith and lives.

Solo vir in terram

Over the course of the last few days, I have felt more alone than I have ever felt. I won't go into all the details, but let me just assure you that being a liberal Catholic in a rural, eastern Utah city is not the easiest thing to do.
Today I went to Mass. Yes, normally I don't spend too much time telling about my own personal experiences, but what I heard was very reassuring. Today is the Feast Day of the Transfiguration. All the readings had to do with Discipleship. Father Albert's homily, though, was most especially helpful. He told us that, as the Disciples, we must learn to stand with Christ especially when we are on the mountains of our life, both the good ones and the bad ones. It was an especially well-timed message about how God will never desert us and how we must, in turn, not abandon Him.
And so I am thinking about Discipleship. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, whose name appears in this blog quite frequently, is my ideal model for Discipleship. Bonhoeffer was a devout Christian who was abandoned by his faith (the Lutherans), his country, and seemingly his God. His family never did abandon him, but his life was nonetheless nowhere near perfect.
In about 1930 he published a work entitled The Cost of Discipleship, in which he basically told his readers how difficult being a Christian can be. No, it didn't smack of the same self-sacrificial language that his fellow Lutheran and predecessor Kierkegaard embraces, but it did include plenty of self-denial. To him, we must be ready to "climb up on the cross with Jesus." This is a hard request, to deny ourselves of our comforts that we so often think are ours to take. It is a hard request to take upon ourselves shame and sorrow. It is hard to deny all that we have for Christ's name sake.
This is all very well and good to write about safely from the Seminary which he had founded. However, the true test of his Discipleship would come more than ten years later when he was imprisoned by the NAZIs for instructing his students to not enlist in the army. Now, it is important to understand that he had plenty of chances to avoid this. He had been to New York a few years prior and his friends there had asked him not to return to Germany, but to stay in the states where he would be safe. Even when he had returned to Germany, when rumors of his arrest began to circulate, his friends offered to help him escape. However, humble and submissive, he allowed the NAZIs to take him. He had many students, loving parents, a fiancee, and a group of faithful disciples that he left behind. His contemporaries, like Karl Barth, escaped NAZI persecution in other countries. Eventually, he was moved to a Concentration Camp and days before Allied relief, was hung by the SS. This is a man who never backed away from his principles and truly lived a Christian life.
Another figure I think of is the one of Job, from the Bible. He was a man who lost literally everything. He lost his children, his lands, his wife, his livestock and even his health. He had nothing going for him. Eventually, he did murmur against the Lord, but in the end he is taught a valuable lesson about how the Lord works.
Others have done the same. There are many, many Christian martyrs whose faith was sealed with their blood. Ss Perpetua and Felicity, St Joan of Arc, Justin Martyr, and countless others have stood by their Christian faith as others killed them.
Whatever reason we are put through trials and hardships, I firmly believe that our character there is a reason. Perhaps they will test our faith. Perhaps they will test our character. Perhaps they will strengthen us as people. Or perhaps others will watch and judge us by our actions. Do we suffer all things willingly, as Kierkegaard tells us to? Do we take on Christ's cross? Do we stay with our faith, rather than abandoning it?
Rather than getting overabundantly preachy on the subject, I offer this simple question: will we find ourselves more happy in life if we do not lose faith than if we do? We might feel like a shipwrecked sailor alone in the squall at times, but will we truly find peace by succumbing to the tempest? So perhaps, Christian or not, believer or atheist, we might find ourselves enjoying our lives a little more if we learn to accept difficulties gracefully.

Kierkegaard's Masochism

I really think the title of this post wins "Best title of a blog post ever" award.
The truth of it is, the topic of suffering is one that I see haunt Christian Theologians of every time period. But why?
Kierkegaard, the father of Existentialism and great Theological writer of the eighteenth century, had quite the maochistic view when it comes to suffering. To Soren Kierkegaard, we are not only to suffer gladly, but we cannot call ourselves Christians unless we absolutely seek out suffering. And not suffering alone, but we cannot count ourselves among Christ's flock unless we have suffered like Christ has suffered. SK, not being a man to give simple lip service, was once engaged to a Miss Regina Olsen, but broke off the engagement, even though he still absolutely loved her. He spent the rest of his life in agony because he never married her, nor would he because he thought that having a partner in suffering was unChristian.
However, many others have had other things to say. Schleiermacher agrees that the way we suffer defines our Christianity, but he does not encourage us to seek out punishment. Augustine defines his own suffering as being necessary for his conversion. Von Balthasar seems to think that Christ's suffering is more to be in solidarity with us, and that we have no need to heap on ourselves more suffering. Dorothy Day and John Paul II both took on the idea of solidarity, or suffering with other people in order to be in communion with them.
Whatever specific theology you follow, what seems to be the case is that the way in which we suffer defines how Christian we are. As Christians we must learn to suffer. Perhaps we don't need to voluntarily seek out suffering, as Kierkegaard tells us to, but we do need to accept it. After all, our Christianity is not defined by how great our life is to ourselves, but to other people.
Perhaps Dietrich Bonhoeffer, one of my favorite Theologians and a martyr of World War II can shed some light on the subject. To Bonoeffer, we must be prepared to, as Jesus asks the young rich man, "give up all that we have and follow [Christ]."
Giving up everything is not easy. As Tyler Durden, a character from a cult classic Fight Club states, "Hitting rock bottom isn't a weekend retreat." But, we don't have to give up everything necessarily. We do, however, need to be ready to "suffer all manner of affliction for [Christ's] name sake."
And so I think that we are not defined by how much suffering we voluntarily induce on ourselves. However, we are surely defined by the way we face it. Are we willing to forgive those who do us harm? Are we willing to accept unfair punishments? Will we comfort those who grieve themselves and take on their burden as well?
Kierkegaard may think that voluntarily submitting to pain and suffering is necessary, but as Christians are we not also to lift others spirits? Would Regina Olsen (who did marry later on, by the way) have been happier if they had married? Is not the Christian to suffer but all the while to do the work of God?
If then, we find happiness and joy in our work, how can we murmur against our lack of suffering? If we bring others peace and rest and our satisfied by our actions, I do not think that God will condemn us for having joy. After all, why would God create man if not to be happy? What purpose would our lives serve if there was no true joy to be found in this life?
Yes, the world we live in is full of grief and sorrow. There is much suffering, and we should work to eliminate it. But weeping and wailing in sackcloth and ashes will not build the kingdom.
Here I think Dorothy Day's preaching and example trumps Soren Kierkegaards. Day spent her days serving the poor. She worked among them and took no money for herself. She protested unfair conditions, poverty, war, the death penalty and other things. Truly, she carried about the corporal works of mercy. Did she suffer? Undoubtedly. A mind like hers, so in tune to the cries of humanity cannot but suffer. However, in her suffering, she alleviated the suffering of other men. Her protests brought about change. Her Worker Houses dot the country and provide aid for all those who are underprivileged financially.
And so it is that I say, yes, our suffering will demonstrate our allegiance to our Lord and God. Yes, by how we react to afflictions and trials we show the world the true nature of Christian spirit. And yes, we must not murmur in our toils nor complain about our lot. But at the same time, we should not seek out pain and suffering at the cost of other people's happiness.

Humanum veritatem videre

Terence once said, "Homo sum: humani nil a me alienum puto," or "I am a human: I consider nothing human to be alien to me." Generally speaking, I try to take the opposite approach.
As a Christian, or at least someone who takes Augustine's view on Original Sin very seriously, I tend to view people as scum unless they redeem themselves. I've written here plenty of tirades against what we do to ourselves as people. The human condition is not one which I am thrilled to claim, most of the time. However, I do see all around me hope for a better future. I see people who are genuinely interested in making the world a better place, rather than just making a buck. I see Nietzsche's "will to power" ideal being broken by many selfless men and women.
However, this is the exception to the rule, by and large. I do not consider most human beings to be genuinely philanthopic or amicable in general. Don't get me wrong, I don't hate the human race, I just think that the human part needs to be transformed.
Enter Existentialism. I always thought it was weird that such a devout Christian as Kierkegaard would be considered the father of a movement that spawned Nietzsche, one of the most famous (or infamous) antichristians in history. But what I've come to realize is that these men who are lumped into this movement all share is a common ideal to change our lives or at least perspectives to be more than we are. For Kierkegaard it's his "knight of faith" in Fear and Trembling. For Nietzsche, it's his "ubermensch" in Thus spake Zarathustra. They both emphasize overcoming the base human to become something greater, something that sees beyond the disguises and false images we so readily put before ourselves.
I guess this is what I hate about living here in Vernal. I hate that the people here refuse to reach beyond what they've been given.
I was in Park City over the weekend. Aside from being a more affluent community than most of Utah, it also boasts being more educated and more liberal. Summit County is one of the few counties (maybe 2 or 3) that votes Democrat consitently. While I was there, I was not only associating with people who are more educated than the averge Utahn, I was with people who are more educated than the average Park City resident because I was with Notre Dame alumni and students.
When I came back to Vernal, I actually didn't talk or associate with anybody outside of my family until today at work. And it was at work that I realized just how backwards people here in Vernal can be. Many of them are barely literate high school dropouts who make their living by destroying the environment in order to sustain our energy greed. But I realized that I look at these people not as humans, but often times as animals. This is actually inaccurate. I view animals with more respect for being more responsible with their ecosystem. After work, I realized this is a real problem for me.
Why is it that I look so far down my nose at these people? While it is certainly true that we have different political ideologies and our priorities are placed in different fields, we do share a certain amount of attributes that should force me to look more highly on them. We are all human beings. We share 99% of the same DNA. We all survive on the same basic biological processes and share the same resources.
This is even more significant from a Theological perspective. We are all God's children. He doesn't favor me over any of these other humans. I am not more special to God because I attend Mass weekly or pray nightly or write a blog that reflects my theological thoughts. No, if anything, being in this position means I have a responsibility that they do not have. I need to try to make them more aware of who they are and what they do. I need to try to educate them. I need to try to open their eyes, rather than shake my head at them.
This, then, is the conclusion I have made. We so often rule people out from being human. It's how we are able to fight wars. It's how we are able to enslave entire races. It's how we can still have lingering epithets that attack us based on the person we are rather than on the crimes we have committed. It's how we have such strong ethnic boundaries. We need to be as Terence and consider all humans to be human. We need to learn to see the true human, instead of our selectively chosen favorites. There should be nothing alien to us that is human.

Ethos (parvae animae II ex III)

The appeal to the Ethos is partly one of the most shameful tactics that is widely used today, but also one of the most popular. I, myself, have appealed to the Ethos in some of my blog pieces.
The Ethos is the part of us that is who we are. It is our character, our morals, ethics, what we identify ourselves with and as. The word ethics is derived from Ethos. And our Ethos is called upon every day when we make decisions that demonstrate our loyalties and the groups with whom we associate.
Radio talk show hosts are some of the most Ethos oriented rhetoricians around. Rush Limbaugh, Glenn Beck, and Michael Savage all call on their listeners to adopt certain beliefs and attitudes based on their political standing. Their particular brand of conservatism is recommended to all conservatives based on their identification as conservatives.
Patriotism too, is definitely an area of great Ethical appeal. We watch movies and read books about how great being America is. We justify our belacose actions by stating that those who don't like war are un-American. We have bumper stickers that tell us to support our wars and our corrupt politicians. Country artists tell us that putting "a boot up [terrorists' (or possibly just Middle Easterners')] ass is the American way."
Rhetoricians of ancient days did the same thing. King Leonidas appealed to the Spartans as Spartans to stand against the Persians. The Crusades appealed to Christians' sense of Christianity to wage war against the Muslims. Cicero himself often started his speeches with the phrase "Friends, Romans, country men" appealing to their national identity to attract their attention and sway their opinions.
Preachers and ministers today use Ethos as well. We rally upon people's sense of Christianity (which I myself have done), and ask them to do things unquestioningly because of this (which I try to avoid). When the phrase "as Christians" is used in a sermon or homily, we automatically feel duty-bound towards it.
But, this, of course, can have many negative implications. Last night, as I was speaking with Alexa on the phone, we discussed Evangelism and the many implications that have arisen with it. Many are the Christians who view themselves as Evangelicals and who unquestioningly follow the commands of their pastors. Jerry Falwell will say something like "as Christians we must prepare for the final days by preparing Jerusalem," and his congregation will send money to extremist militant Zionist factions for this exact purpose. Other congregations will protest anything that aids in the homosexual rights campaign because they're leaders tell them to "as Christians."
Truly, the worst part of Ethos is that it is mindless devotion. Pathos is served by our instincts and feelings, but Ethos is only defined by who we think that we are. As an American I might think that it is most important to support our battles. Even though it may not make sense to say that our soldiers who are in a completely foreign, far off country are fighting for our freedom, as an American I am appealed to in order to garner my support. My sense of Americanism is greater than my sense of logic.
Similarly, the question of ethics arose during the Englightenment. When Christianity lost its control of some peoples (the French most specifically), then on what authority should we follow the morals and ethics we have been taught to follow? Our sense of Christianity no longer applies, so why should we love our neighbor or do good to them who abuse us?
I think, as many philosophers, including Kierkegaard, Hume and Kant, that our sense of morals is not rooted in our belief, but in something greater.
Similarly, I think that we should not let ourselves be told to follow certain idealogies because of with whom we associate, but rather that we should apply more logic to our decisions and actions. If we truly identify ourselves as Christians, we should, in fact, follow the teachings of Jesus, but not without logical discussion and inquiry. Otherwise, we are liable to be swayed by any man or woman who claims to be an authority on Christian duty.

Being a Christian in today's world

So I've realized that I write a lot about what it means to be Christian and how different it is from what we normally view as Christianity.
To be fair, it seems to me that most of the people who act Christian tend to be more of the atheistic brand or adhere to some other religion. Those who go by the tag of Christian seem far more Nietzschean to my view.
The question, then, is how are we to reconcile the two camps? With the name of Christians being tarnished right and left, it becomes difficult to maintain a place in this world that is not completely looked down on. We hear people in the scientific and intellectual world tarnishing the name of Christians and the God of our faith. In the world of entertainment, we are represented by self-serving, war-mongering celebreties that portray us to the world in a negative light.
The problem is that there are not enough intellectual Christians to provide sustained dialogue between the atheist scholars and the Christian scholars.
So it is our duty to make a point of engaging the scientific world. One does not have to be an atheist to be a biologist or theoretical physicist. Christianity can engage in intelligent debate about the origins of man or the universe. Evolution is not against God's nature.
In reality, the sad truth is that Christianity has, for a long time, been behind the scientific world. Galileo discovers helio-centrism and is anathema. Charles Darwin discovers biogenetic diversity and is shunned. We cannot be afraid of the scienitfic world. All that that does for us is turns the learned man away from our faith.
Christianity has the honor of having some of the most famous philosophers learned men in its midst. Thomas Aquinas, Augustine, Anselm, Kierkegaard, Pascal, and others have all graced Christianity with their intelligence and skill. It is not incompatible to be Christian and a scholar.
So we need to take up the call to be scholars. We need to engage the scholastic world with substantial discussion instead of hurling insults and refusing rationality. We need to learn to be Christians in our contemporary world, not in years long past.

Martyrs

Lately I've been thinking about what martyrdom means. For many Christians, martyrdom is the ultimate way to show one's devotion to Christ. Kierkegaard says that unless we are willing to lay down our lives for Christ, we are not true Christians.
In the early parts of the Christian Church, there were many martyrs killed by the Roman Empire. These martyrs are widely looked up to for their courage and fidelity. Most became saints because of their martyrdom. The Emperors Domitian and Diocletian persecuted Christians openly and sent many to their deaths in grueling manners.
St Stephen is widely viewed as the first Christian martyr, and his death is recorded in the Book of Acts. Most of the Apostles were martyred. Peter was crucified upside-down. Paul was beheaded by Emperor Nero because he was a Roman Citizen.
With all the praise that goes to the Christian martyrs, it is also important to note that not every martyr's cause is a true cause.
Many unjust men and faulty causes have used martyrdom to prove correctness. Jim Jones thought that the fact that government was pursuing him proved that he was correct. Many suicide bombers and terrorists view their deaths as proving their point. The Heaven's Gate cult thought their suicides would bring them eternal joy on Hale's Comet. The arrest of Warren Jeffs only strengthened the FLDS Church's resolve.
In addition to this, what of the different martyrs from different faiths? There were the Christian martyrs, there were Jewish martyrs, Muslim martyrs, Buddhist martyrs, and Mormon martyrs. How do we reconcile so many martyrs with so many different faith traditions? Do we just look at the faith that has yielded the most martyrs?
I have heard that the Twentieth Century brought about the most Christian martyrs, especially with the wars that were fought and the genocides that occurred. How are the deaths of men like Dietrich Bonhoeffer to be compared with men like David Koresh?
We can look up to martyrs, but we cannot say that because somebody is a martyr, their faith is valid. Plenty of men have died for unworthy causes. Plenty have lived for worthy causes. Where we really need to look is not on the actual martyr, but on the cause that the martyr defended.

Our True Calling as Christians

I feel somewhat inclined to write about the Abortion issue and President Obama's visit to Notre Dame. However, because the issue has been so played out over the last few weeks, I do not feel the need.
Rather, I would like to discuss something that I think we often overlook as Christians. The word Christian is used so much to describe people and things. We can live a Christian way of life, visit a Christian bookstore or talk to Christians. We have Christian music, Christian movies, even Christian video games.
None of these things are truly Christian. None of them truly incapsulate the message of Christ. There's been so much debate about Eucharist, Grace, Tradition, Scripture and a plethora of other theological topics over the centuries that we have forgotten what Christ was really all about.
It doesn't matter where we stand on the abortion issue, or where we pledge our allegiances. It doesn't matter if we favor one politician over another. What it comes down to at the end of the day is how we demonstrate Christ-like love.
Christ told us simply that the greatest commandment is to love God, and the second is to love our neighbors (Matthew 22:38-40). "Upon these hang all the law and the prophets."
In the end we aren't judged by our faith, or who we protested or supported. It doesn't matter if we raised millions of dollars for a worthy cause. What does matter is that we love with a Christ-like love.
Even St Paul, in a letter to the Corinthians tells them that the greatest virtues to have are faith, hope and love, but love is the greatest of all of these (1 Corinth. 13:13). Love is greater than faith. This is said by the man who told us that we are only saved through our faith (Galatians 3:14).
So let us not call any cause "Christian" that is not centered fully on love. Let us not call ourselves Christian if we hold hatred in our hearts. Let us not call any lifestyle Christian that hates any people for any reason.
Rather, let us call those Christian who stand up for the oppressed. Let us call those Christian whose intentions and means are filled with love and not anger. Let us revere those as Christians who suffer gracefully the hatred and anger of an unjust world.
Soren Kierkegaard said that there was nothing of worldly value in being a Christian. There is no worldly success in the work of a Christian, nor is there any praise to be gained by his contemporaries. The Christian loves. That is all the Christian does.

Religiosity

One of my absolute favorite theologians of the twentieth century, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, criticized religiosity in both one of his letters from prison and The Cost of Discipleship. In fact, many spiritual writers, including Jesus Himself, have criticized false piety.
One of my favorite forms of false piety can be found in prayers. Growing up in a Mormon family, around Mormons, I was generally accustomed to hearing prayers that began something like this:
"Oh great, merciful, loving and kind, all-powerful, ever-living, benevolent and virtuous Eternal Father in Heaven from whom all blessings flow..."
They also tend to end, after much flowery and pompous language:
"We, thy servants, humbly ask of these things, with sincere piety and lowliness of heart and of spirit, in the name of thy wonderful Son, the Great Jehovah, even the Lord Jesus Christ, Amen."
I am reminded in this instance of the prayers of the pharisee and the publican in the temple (Luke 18:10-14). How simple was the publicans prayer? How honest was it? What of the pharisee, the man who had so much going for him and still felt the need to lift himself up before God?
The truth is, we are all worms before God. The believer is no better in the eyes of God than the unbeliever. Yes, we act as if the opposite is the case, but Christ himself said, "not everyone who says to me Lord, Lord will be admitted to the kingdom of heaven" (Matthew 7:21). We are not somehow greater than all the rest of humanity simply because we think that our faith is right. Vatican II illumined our understanding by teaching us that those who try to do God's will, independent of what faith they may pursue, will be saved (People of God). So what good is our false piety?
I would venture to guess that there is a substantial amount of people who are turned off of religion because of religiosity. How many people are scared away by our "holier-than-thou" attitudes? How many people see us not as "living in the world but not of the world" but instead as not even living in the world?
I think that monasticism has gathered the disfavor in today's world that it has because of false piety. Those who live truly ascetic lives are viewed as trying to escape the real world. There is a feeling of resentment towards those who seek to escape the world and live in a truly Christian community.
I would also go as far as to say this is why there are an abundance of "reality" churches, or other such watered-down faith traditions. When the ceremony and pomp of church are removed, it is easier for a common man to feel at home.
However, I must warn that church is not a place where we should feel "at home" in the way that we feel at our own homes. Church is not a place to kick off our shoes and drink beer while watching the football game. Church is a place of piety, of worship and of prayerful humility. The only problem that really faces us is realizing our true humility. Being humble doesn't mean taking as we think a pious person speaks. Kierkegaard tells us very clearly that the Knight of Faith is unrecognizable because he dons no special cloak, nor embraces any false piety.
I am reminded of Dorothy Day. Here is a woman who spent her days in very humble circumstances. She took on voluntary poverty as did Francis of Assisi. She assisted the poor. She devoted her time to the Corporal Works of Mercy. Even in her radical, anarchistic, socialistic ways she was always a beacon of true piety. Her true humility didn't repulse others, except for those too full of themselves to realize she was right. Her approach to reaching out to those outside of the faith? "In order to reach the man on the street, we must go out to the man on the street."

fides contra rationem

I really need a better title than that. But I couldn't think of anything. This semester I am in a philosophy class centered on theological claims. A lot of what we have been learning and studying focuses on proofs for the existence of God.
I have a really hard time accepting the proofs given. It's not that I doubt the intellectual capacity of people like Anselm, Aquinas, Kierkegaard, Averroes, Avicenna, and others. It's more that I don't think that philosophy has any say in religious conviction. Yes, we can use the philosophy of Aristotle, Mills, Kant, or Nietzsche to tell us by what standards to live. Yes, we can use Plato, Nietzsche, Saint-Exupery or MacIntyre to tell us what we should esteem. But I don't think that the existence of God has any place in philosophy.
Yes, we can speak of religious things. We refer to "Christian virtues." We speak of "the way," being "disciples of Christ," and of our teleological value. But we can only discuss this in light of our belief, a belief which does not come from philosophy.
If God were provable, then faith, one of the three Christian virtues, would be null and void. If we could take Kant's model, or Aquinas' proofs, or Anselm's definition of God as a concrete way to show God's existence, then there would be no requirement for faith. How can we esteem faith, if faith isn't even necessary. How can we be Kierkegaard's knight of faith when there is no place for faith?
Long have theologians argued about the place of faith. St Paul tells us that we are saved through our faith in Christ. James responds that faith without works is dead. The argument gets taken up again in the Reformation period with figures such as Luther, Calvin, Zwingli, and the entire Roman Church.
So how can we say that we can prove God exists? Pascal only tells us that it's better statistically to believe in God. Most theologians tell us to have faith in God. Even those arguing about the proofs of God are only arguing that they can prove why it makes sense to believe in God. God is not provable. If God were, then there would be no struggle, no faith requirement or trials to overcome. If God is a logical deduction, there are no atheists.
Even so, God provides us with enough to make it reasonable to believe in God, and also reasonable not to. The beauties that surround us and are right in front of our eyes are seen by some to be infallible proof for God's love, and by others as the beauty of chaos. Our minds and bodies prove to some that God exists and to others that natural selection favors certain traits. Even our history and progress shows to some that God has been there, and to others that nature's laws are above all others.

Human expiration dates

I'm not really sure how to address this topic. It's one I've given a lot of thought to over the years. But how does one go about when speaking on human mortality?
I've always seen the job of the priest and the job of the physician as opposites. The physician's job is to prevent death and to keep it as far away as possible. The priest's job is to prepare people for death, to teach them how to accept the reality of it.
A basic part of our biology teaches us to fear death. And for most of us, we also fear that there may just be nothing after death after all. If this was your outlook and fear, there's no wonder that you would work so hard to prevent death. So, from the time of Hippocrates we've been trying to delay death as well as we could. Within the last hundred years, we've eradicated polio, malaria and tuberculosis (in the US). We've increased our life expectancy so much that i continually climbs. But now, rather than dying of pneumonia or influenza, we die of cancer and heart disease.
My theory is this: human beings have built into them an expiration date. We all die at some point. All our medical advances have one goal in mind: immortality. We try to prolong our lives as much as possible, by putting death off indefinitely. But this is not our purpose. We were not designed to never die.
So, should we really be continuing on this endless quest for godliness? In my previous post I briefly made comment about some doubts about the Bible. One such doubt circles around the story of the Tower of Babel. However, even if I doubt the validity of the historic virtues of tale, it does have a lesson to be learned, as all passages of Bible have. The Tower of Babel teaches us not to try to exalt ourselves to the position of God. Humankind was not designed to try to take what God has set aside for Godself. We are not going to achieve immortality.
That being said, we should not despair either. If we all die, we all meet the same fate. In Pascal's words, we either disappear into nothingness, or fall into the hands of a wrathful God. I don't hold as much to the wrathful part, but I do think that we will end up in a similar place no matter who we are. A lot of Medieval pastoral theology focused on providing the hope for a better life for those who do lived seemingly meaningless lives.
But we haven't moved that far from the Middle Ages. Thanks to Nietzsche and the existentialists, we have another reason for considering our own existences. Kierkegaard emphasized the fact that we are hurtling uncontrollably towards our own deaths.
I don't wish to say there is no merit to medical technology or advances. Rather, I think we should turn our focus from living longer to living fuller.

Civitas contra religionem

So many people laud the founding fathers' decision to establish a policy of separation of Church and state. But I have to ask: is this really the best thing for us?
A lot of the argument for the separation of Church and state lies in the fact that with a government tied with a church, there will be no freedom of religion. We have plenty of examples in the history of the world to draw from: England, Rome, Germany, France, Saudi Arabia, Israel, Lebanon, Iran, etc. Some countries have failed to allow religious diversity, but not all. England no longer does. Israel and Lebanon have always allowed religious freedom. None of these countries are considered disasters (though, to be fair, none of them are really driven by the Church anymore).
So what does separation do for us here in the states? First and foremost, anybody can join whatever faith they'd like, for better or worse (viz Heaven's Gate, David Koresh and Jim Jones). Furthermore, politics supposedly isn't influenced by religions (like Hell it's not). But if politics is supposed to be fair, and representative, why is it that the most dominant Christian religion in America (the Catholic Church) has only ever had one of its members become president?
But what I really get upset about is this: American Christianity is so often influenced by the state. What does this mean? How many churches today in America are predominantly war-like? How many good Christians are afraid to protest what they think is unjust? How many Christians view the Beattitudes as a higher standard than political practice? How many consider the command to love one's neighbor more important than the constitution? How many people consider Jesus to be a more important political figure than George Washington?
The problem is that we live in a world affected by World War I nationalism that we have never overcome. Christians, in word, proclaim a life that is independent of the state. Jesus proclaimed "My kingdom is not of this world." The early Christians suffered at the hands of the state, often to imprisonment and even death.
Now, we live in Kierkegaard's Christendom. We don't actually need to be Christ-like in order to be Christians in our world. We go to war, we impose taxes on the poor and increase the wealth of the poor. We turn against our neighbor and engage in unvirtuous enterprises. Christianity in America is like a new Rome. We have lost our sense of Christianity for our sense of politics. We worship the God of the state, the God whose name is printed on our money, not the God of Christianity.