Canon Fodder

Kirsten and I had a group of about 10 folks (including us) over last Friday to view the new Morgan Spurlock produced film What Would Jesus Buy?, which chronicles the dramatic activism of Rev. Billy and his Church of Stop Shopping Gospel Choir. I think for the most part “a good time was had by all,” though of course the purpose of our evening was to be entertained a little bit, to be sure, but mostly to be challenged and raise awareness regarding our entrenched conspicuous consumption as mostly middle class citizens of the United States. My hope is that this would prompt some discussion among us about how to begin “being the change we want to see.” It is crystal clear to me that if as a society we got into this mess “alone” (as a result of the individualism that is as much a part of our way of life as consumerism is), the only way to get out of this mess is to pursue change together, and I vow to do all that I can to create and facilitate the kind of local community that this requires.

Anyway, below is the “Christian” study guide the Rev. Billy, et al, made available on their website, and for my part I’ll also add this link, which has some great resources as well. Oh, and one more thing, if you “don’t believe the hype,” go here and get a little perspective.

Resource Guide

“We don’t have all the answers, but I think we have the questions.” Reverend Billy

Guide Overview: What Would Jesus Buy? is a documentary film that examines the commercialization of Christmas. WWJB? challenges us to examine why we buy so much, where we buy, and how we buy all in an effort to identify what we can do about it to transform our habits and communities… not just
during Christmas, but year-round.

Let’s Start With The Basics:

Examine why you buy the things you do – and ask yourself do I really need this? Do I have something like it? Where am I going to store it?

Learn and live by a simple motto: The 3 R’s –

Reduce: Reducing the amount of waste you produce is the best way to help the environment

Reuse: Instead of throwing things away, try to find ways to use them again!

Recycle: Consuming less means you’re using what you have already and actively recycling!

Further Questions – What could you do with the extra money you save by curbing your shopping? – Can you name products in your home that you could start use again instead of buying new? – What about making your gifts? What could you make as a unique gift?

What Scripture Might Say About Consumption
It is clear that there is something to be said about consumption in the Bible. Here are several points to guide your discussion.

• How does Exodus 20: 17 that addresses the issue of coveting contribute to our understanding about consumption?
• Jesus tells a parable about the effects of giving money to several servants, traditionally called the Parable of the Talents (Matthew 25: 14-30). How do you interrupt this parable? Do the passages before and after it lend any help to the meaning?
• Jesus says in his Sermon on the Mount that we ought not to worry about what we should wear or what we should eat (Matthew 6:25-34). What should we be worried about?
• Jesus cleared the Temple in Mark 11:15-18, days before he was crucified. It may be the only time that
  Jesus appears angry. Why was he angry and how does this add to a discussion on consumption?
• Hebrews 13:5 talks about living in a way that is free from the love of money and the Christian church
  has placed greed as one of the seven most deadliest sins. What is the love of money? And, as I Timothy 6:10 says, why is it the root of all evil? Does Acts 8:20 play a role?

• What did Jesus say to the rich man in Matthew 19:16-24?
  Jesus told a parable of a rich fool who built bigger and bigger barns to hoard his grain (Luke 12:13-21). What happened and what was Jesus trying to address?

What Would Jesus Buy?
We really don’t know what Jesus would buy, but they’re a few points that we can infer from Jesus and the story of Christianity.

• Greed is not good (gluttony is one of the seven deadly sins).
• Wealth should be shared so the poor can have what they need.
• Jesus cleared the Temple because merchants had taken it over.
• Jesus would probably give away more than he kept for himself.

• The Christmas story reveals Jesus in very modest (lowly) circumstances, not among the rich.

Web Resources

Evangelicals for Social Action
Sojourners
Bread for the World

Where Do You Consume?
Why should I support local merchants versus big-box stores and franchises? How can I find out about companies that participate in fair labor and trade practices and how can I participate?

• Buying local means you’re supporting your local economy.
• Look for products that are “Fair Trade Certified.” The label means they pay their workers a reasonable wage and don’t participate in child labor.

• The corporations want us to have experiences only through their products. Our neighborhoods, “commons” places like stoops and parks and streets and libraries, are disappearing into the world of big boxes and chain stores.

Further Questions – Can you name your favorite local stores? – Is it possible to not shop for one week? – How are big-box stores same and different from local stores?

Web Resources
Fair Trade Federation
Co-Op America
Sweat Free
International Justice Mission

How Do You Consume?
How can I be more aware of what I purchase and how it effects the environment around me?

• Determine your carbon footprint. Your carbon footprint is the direct effect your actions and lifestyle have on the environment in terms of carbon dioxide emissions. Go to Native Energy.
• Look at the label, where and how is your product made? Green goods are more available today from paper towels and cleaning products to clothing and housing materials.

• Find company websites and read about where and how products are made.

Further Questions
-What can you do to reduce your carbon footprint?
-What are you currently recycling?
-Are there local businesses committed to going and being green?

Web Resources
Creation Care
Natural Resources Defense Council
The Daily Green
Native Energy

What Can We Do About It?
Where do I start? What can I do in the first week, month, year?

• Beginning is important. Decide where you want to start.
• Change your lightbulbs, reduce your heat/air conditioning consumption, and buy fresh foods.
• Find other people and groups that are working toward the same ends. See what you can do together.
• Go to Reverand Billy’s website and see how you can get involved in rallies and boycotts.
• Drive less, walk more.

• Commit to only buying products that are made in America.

Below is an article written by one of my mentors, Bart Campolo. I reference this article often because it is very meaningful to me and really approximates many of my own thoughts. The first time I read it out loud, I cried. Much later (just the other night, in fact) I read it out loud again, and cried again. I guess that tells you something about what I care about. You’ll find the article in its entirety below, or you can read it among the other “barticles” here.

take my god… please

A few years ago, after being politely asked to depart early from yet another speaking engagement for giving the wrong answer to a question about the limits of God’s mercy, I decided it wasn’t fair to keep sneaking up on unsuspecting Evangelicals. Strange as it seems to me, I know all too well that to promote a God both loving enough to desire the salvation of all His children and powerful enough to accomplish it is a dangerous scandal to such folks. After all, without
the fear of their unsaved loved ones’ eternal damnation, how would they motivate one another for outreach and missionary service?

And yet, almost everywhere I go, I meet people –especially young people – who are not motivated at all by such fear. On the contrary, these people are utterly horrified by the notion of a Heavenly Father who essentially says to His
children, ‘I love you, but if for any reason you fail to accept that fact before your mortal body expires, I will kill and torture you for all eternity’. Especially if that same Heavenly Father holds in His hand all the reasons His children do
or don’t accept Him in the first place. These are the people who ask me the questions that used to lead to my early departures, and who write me letters and emails like this one:

Dear Bart-

This might be kind of weird, but I have a question for you. I did Mission Year last year and when you came to visit my team you told a story about how when first started working in the inner-city, you got to know a girl who was gang-raped as a 9-year-old and, after her Sunday School teacher told her God must have allowed it for a reason, rejected God forever. Because you believed God
was indeed in control, and because you believed that girl’s lack of faith doomed her to eternal damnation, you decided that God was a cruel bastard. You sort of said the words inside my head out loud, words I had wanted to say for a long time.

Anyway, after putting this off for almost a year, I want to know how you reconciled that. How did you make it from, “God is a cruel bastard” back to “I can trust Him”? I can’t seem to make that leap. Sometimes I begin to really trust Him, but as soon as I think about my past abuse and those I know and love who are bound for Hell…it just doesn’t add up. I want to know the God
you know- who apparently allows for horrible things in this world to happen, but remains pure and holy and trustworthy and faithful and loving.

I don’t know if any of this makes sense to you, but as I was wrestling with it again today I was reminded of you and hoped you might be of some help.

Sarah

Dear Sarah,

Thank you for writing to me. Over the past few years, I have become convinced that yours is actually the single most important question in the world. As Rabbi Harold Kushner observes, “Virtually every meaningful conversation I’ve had with
people about God has either started with that question or gotten around to it before long” While I am sure my answer will not be as eloquent as his, I will do my best.

First of all, while I certainly believe my most cherished ideas about God are supported by the Bible (what Christian says otherwise?), I must admit they did not originate there. On the contrary, most of these ideas were formed during that difficult time I described to you, when I was suddenly disillusioned by the suffering and injustice I discovered in the inner-city, and did not trust the Bible at all. At that point, for the first time, I realized that a person’s life does not depend on whether he or she believes in God, but rather on what kind of God he or she believes in. I also realized, for better or worse, that the only evidence I was could rely on was that which I saw for myself.

What I saw then, and still see now, is a world filled with dazzling goodness and horrific evil, with love and hate, with beauty and ugliness, with life and death. In the face of such clear duality, it seemed to me then, and still seems to me now, that there are but a handful of spiritual possibilities:

*There are no spiritual forces. The material universe is all. Our lives bear no larger meaning, and those who hope for more hope in vain. In this case, considering that 9-year old rape victim, I despair.

*There is only one spiritual force at work in the universe, encompassing both good and evil. This world is precisely as this force wills it to be, and everything—including the rapes of children—happens according to its plan. In this case, again, I despair.

*There are two diametrically opposing spiritual forces at work in the universe, one entirely good and loving and the other entirely evil. Satan (or whatever one chooses to call that evil force) is most powerful and therefore will utterly triumph in the end. The suffering of that poor little girl is but a foretaste of the complete suffering that is to come for us all. In this case, of course, I despair.

*There are two opposing spiritual forces at work in the universe, one entirely good and loving and the other entirely evil. God (or whatever one chooses to call that good and loving force) is most powerful, and therefore will utterly triumph in the end. The suffering of that poor little girl – Satan’s doing – will somehow be redeemed and she herself will be healed as part of the complete redemption and absolute healing that is to come for all of us. In this case—and in this case alone—I rejoice, and gladly pledge my allegiance to this good and loving God.

I cannot prove or disprove any of these possibilities, of course, based on the evidence of my experience. What I know with certainty, however, is the one that makes me want to go on living, the one I choose for my own sake, the one I deem worthy of my allegiance. I may be wrong in this matter, but I am not in doubt. If indeed faith is being sure of what we hope for, then truly I am a man of faith, for I absolutely know what I hope to be true: That God is completely good, entirely loving, and perfectly forgiving, that God is doing all that He can to overcome evil (which is evidently a long and difficult task), and that God will utterly triumph in the end, despite any and all indications to the contrary.

This is my first article of faith. I required no Bible to determine it, and—honestly—I will either interpret away or ignore altogether any Bible verse that suggests otherwise.

This first article of faith was the starting point of my journey back to Jesus, and it remains the foundation of my faith. I came to trust the Bible again, of course, but only because it so clearly bears witness to the God of love I had already chosen to believe in. I especially follow the teachings of Jesus because those teachings—and his life, death, and resurrection—seem to me the best expression of the ultimate truth of God, which we Christians call grace. Indeed, these days I trust Jesus even when I don’t understand him, because I have become so convinced that He knows what He is talking about, that He is who he is talking about, and that He alone fully grasps that which I can only hope is true.

Unfortunately for me, God may be very different than I hope, in which case I may be in big trouble come Judgment Day. Perhaps, as many believe, the truth is that God created and predestined some people for salvation and others for damnation, according to His will. Perhaps such caprice only seems unloving to us because we don’t understand. Perhaps, as many believe, everyone who dies without confessing Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior goes to Hell to suffer forever. Most important of all, perhaps God’s sovereignty is such that although He could indeed prevent little girls from being raped, He is no less just or merciful when He doesn’t, and both those children and we who love them should uncritically give Him our thanks and praise in any case.

My response is simple: I refuse to believe any of that. For me to do otherwise would be to despair.

Some might say I would be wise to swallow my misgivings about such stuff, remain orthodox, and thereby secure my place with God in eternity. But that is precisely my point: If those things are true, God can give my place in Heaven to someone else, and go ahead and send me to Hell. For better or worse, I am simply not interested in any God but a completely good, entirely loving, and perfectly forgiving One who is powerful enough to utterly triumph over evil. Such a God may not exist, but I will die seeking Him, and I will pledge my allegiance to no other possibility, because, quite frankly, anything less is not enough to give me hope, to keep me alive, to be worth the trouble of believing.

You can figure out the rest. I don’t hate God because I don’t believe God is fully in control of this world yet. Heck, God is not fully in control of me yet, even when I want Him to be, so how could I possibly believe that God is making it all happen out there in the street? I don’t hate God because I believe He is always doing the best He can, within the limits of human freedom, which even He cannot escape.

On that last point, consider for a moment the essential relationship between human freedom and love, and then consider the essential identity between love and God. If God is love, if He made us for love in His image, then He had no choice but to make us free, to leave us free, and to win us for His Kingdom as free agents (which, evidently, is a long and difficult task). So He did, and so He will.

I don’t hate God because, although I suppose He knows everything that can be known at any given point in time, I don’t suppose He knows or controls everything that is going to happen. I also don’t hate God because I really believe in Satan (and also in my own, moving-in-the-right-direction-but-still-pretty-doggoned-sinful nature). I don’t hate God because it seems to me that this world is a battleground between good and evil, not a puppet show with just one person pulling all the strings. I don’t hate God because the God I have chosen to believe in isn’t hateable, and because I refuse to believe in the kind of God that is.

Now here is the good news: I may be entirely wrong, but even in my darkest hours, my God of love hasn’t stopped speaking to me. On the contrary, I hear His voice in places I never did before, always saying the same things, one way or another: I am with you. I’m sorry about all the pain. It hurts me too, especially when my little ones suffer. I have always loved you and I always will. Do the best you can, but don’t worry. Everything will be all right in the end. Trust me.

And I do. And I hope you will too, sooner than later.

Your friend,

Bart

Of course, to believe in God the way I do is to change the rules of ministry, and especially of youth ministry. I still convince young people to accept Jesus as their personal Lord and Saviour, but not because I’m afraid God will damn them to Hell if they don’t. On the contrary, I want kids’ to follow Jesus because I genuinely believe it’s a better life. Eternity aside, I want their lives to be transformed by God’s truth right now, for their sakes and for the sake of all the hungry and broken people out there who need them to start living His disciples. After all, the sooner we all start following Jesus by feeding the poor and freeing the oppressed, the sooner God’s will will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven. But most of all, I evangelize people because I know they are my loving God’s beloved children, and I don’t want them to live a minute longer without knowing too that most wonderful fact of life.

And I stay in the inner city, in spite of all the suffering and injustice I see here every day, because I can. No longer do I blame God for what is beyond His control, or hate him for visiting so much pain on His little ones. Even in the midst of such ugliness, I can stay here because I am full of faith. I may not be sure of what I know anymore, but I am absolutely certain of what I hope for, and most of the time I manage to live in that direction.

I stay here for one more reason, of course: In places like this, nobody asks you to leave early because you can no longer find the limits of God’s mercy.

I am really impressed by Tim Keller’s performance, so much so that I’m going to have to read his book. I don’t find his arguments compelling, but I do find them thought provoking. His charisma and humility are very appealing, and his literary knowledge is impressive and informative. I’d heard his name tossed around in Emergent circles, but I’d never heard nor read anything by him until today. Definitely worth watching when you can find the time! (ht: TallSkinnyKiwi)

For the latest about the disaster, including an updated death toll and news about the likely long-term food shortage (on top of the recent devastating increase in food prices), go here.

No doubt you’ve heard about the devastation in Myanmar left in the wake of the recent cyclone. The latest CNN report this morning estimates the death toll at more than 22,000, and there’s talk that this event could eventually be “worse” than the tsunami of 2004, in which more than 150,000 people perished. Now, I will be among the first to say that just “throwing money” at persistent problems like poverty, disease, etc. isn’t always the best method of rooting out the causes of those problems and eliminating them. In many cases, while money no doubt provides some relief, it ultimately serves to perpetuate the systems that cause such problems in the first place while relieving relatively affluent Western folks of a little guilt about their status (which, again, only reinforces the systems- like the unsustainable Western way of life- that cause such problems in the first place). However, I think this line of reasoning applies more to systemic issues and obviously takes a long-term view. When devastation from natural disaster like the cyclone in Myanmar occurs, however, the scale of the problem requires a global response and a diversity of relief- including, but not limited to- money.

So here’s what I propose. Many of us are receiving economic stimulus checks from good ol’ Uncle Sam. This windfall was entirely unexpected, but if you’re like me, you have more than a little debt or other “needs” that this money can go to- which is to say nothing of the Fed’s desire to see us run out and spend the money to boost the economy. However, as I suggested above and have spoken of before, our (Western, American) way of life is unsustainable. The “correction” the economy is undergoing is sorely needed, and in my view a much more extensive one is required. Of course, I’m not an economist and my grasp of these matters is admittedly limited. My point is that I would encourage you not to run out and spend the money on more stuff. I would encourage you to pay down debt, maybe save a little, and while you’re at it, help out the folks in Myanmar. My family plans to “tithe” 10% of our stimulus check to do just that. Groups like The Red Cross, World Vision, and Mennonite Central Committee have proven track records when it comes to rendering aid around the world in situations like this and stand ready to receive your support as they do this. So, please, join me in doing your part!

Came across this passage in Thomas More’s Utopia this morning, and couldn’t help but share. :-)

…only he [Utopus] made a solemn and severe law against such as should so far degenerate from the dignity of human nature, as to think that our souls died with our bodies, or that the world was governed by chance, without a wise overruling Providence:

for they all formerly believed that there was a state of rewards and punishments to the good and bad after this life; and they now look on those that think otherwise as scarce fit to be counted men, since they degrade so noble a being as the soul, and reckon it no better than a beast’s: thus they are far from looking on such men as fit for human society, or to be citizens of a well-ordered commonwealth; since a man of such principles must needs, as oft as he dares do it, despise all their laws and customs: for there is no doubt to be made, that a man who is afraid of nothing but the law, and apprehends nothing after death, will not scruple to break through all the laws of his country, either by fraud or force, when by this means he may satisfy his appetites. They never raise any that hold these maxims, either to honours or offices, nor employ them in any public trust, but despise them, as men of base and sordid minds.

Yet they do not punish them, because they lay this down as a maxim, that a man cannot make himself believe anything he pleases; nor do they drive any to dissemble their thoughts by threatenings, so that men are not tempted to lie or disguise their opinions; which being a sort of fraud, is abhorred by the Utopians: they take care indeed to prevent their disputing in defence of these opinions, especially before the common people: but they suffer, and even encourage them to dispute concerning them in private with their priest, and other grave men, being confident that they will be cured of those mad opinions by having reason laid before them. There are many among them that run far to the other extreme, though it is neither thought an ill nor unreasonable opinion, and therefore is not at all discouraged. They think that the souls of beasts are immortal, though far inferior to the dignity of the human soul, and not capable of so great a happiness.

So I had what some Christian friends I know might call a “divine appointment” the other day. As fast-food places go, Chic-fil-A is by far one of my favorites. I like that the food somehow manages to “feel” a bit more wholesome, if not healthy. I like that they’re closed on Sundays and give their employees a break from the grind. I like too that it reminds me of home (Texas) and for many of my 15 years living elsewhere there wasn’t one around, such that when I did find one when traveling, etc. it felt like going home. Oh, and their “eat mor chikin” ad campaign with the cows has been a favorite for some time. Anyway, in keeping with their “family values,” the new Chic-fil-A near us has a “family night” every Tuesday. If an adult buys a combo, you get a kid’s combo meal for free, and they usually come around and give balloons to the kids and sometimes free ice cream. In a simple and blatantly consumeristic way, it’s kind of fun.

So I went with the “fam” this past Tuesday and had an unusual encounter. As we were sitting there eating, I noticed a guy come in who looked a bit disheveled. I watched him for a little while and saw that he approached several people to ask them for something (presumably money) and was rebuffed at every turn. Finally, perhaps in desperation, he went to the condiment stand and began pocketing a copious number of ketchup packets. That was my opportunity. I sidled up next to him and began getting some ketchup of my own (which I didn’t need). He looked at me out of the corner of his eye but didn’t say anything. So I said, “how’s it going?” He mumbled something that I didn’t hear very well and that I don’t remember now, and then asked me for some change- less than a dollar. I apologized and said I didn’t have any cash (I didn’t) but that I would be happy to buy him dinner. He quickly thanked me and we went over together to order. He got a combo meal- extra large of course, and ordered a side of cole slaw to boot. He thanked me again and we bumped fists after I paid. I then said “enjoy your meal” and went back to my table.

Naturally, I’ve thought a lot about this incident, and what follows are those thoughts, in no particular order. Part of the fun I had in doing this was in watching the reaction of the person who rang us up. She was the same girl who rang up Kirsten, Samuel, and I, and she no doubt had observed the “disheveled guy” making his rounds and being rebuffed. So she knew what was going on, and seemed pleased. Still, I’m sure that what I did was much more about “helping” me than it was about helping him. My impromptu act of slightly conspicuous, but meager, generosity didn’t solve any long-term problems for this guy. I “offered him a fish;” I didn’t “teach him to fish.” He seemed genuinely thankful for the “wholesome” meal, and for that night at least, his hunger was sated. Still, I’m sure my act served more to relieve my guilt about my way of life than it did to do any justice in regard to the guy’s misfortune.

Of course, I keep referring to the person I helped as “the guy” or “him,” etc.- and herein lies part of the problem I have with my way of life, and how it was exposed in this encounter. I didn’t even get his name! I could have, and should have, but I didn’t want to call any extra attention to what was happening, and I wasn’t quite sure how to play my part in it all. On the one hand, I think I did well playing my part. He didn’t come to our table and ask for anything so I had every opportunity to ignore it all until he went away. To use a sports analogy, I “let the game come to me,” and when a very natural moment came for me to intervene, I did so. All I had to do was seek him out and approach him in a natural way (we’re both just two guys getting ketchup). I felt good about that.

If my situation was different, though, I would have followed up. Once he sat down and began eating, I might have gone over to see if he wanted some company. I then could have introduced myself and gotten his name. I might have asked about his situation and if there was any more I could do to help- for instance, “Do you have a place to stay tonight?” Depending on what he said, again- if my situation was different- I might even have invited him over to stay in one of my (currently) 2 empty bedrooms. This is all, of course, connected to my dream for “intentional (Christian) community” in which a number of folks share one roof. I didn’t feel comfortable, for obvious reasons, inviting a stranger whose mental status, etc. was unknown to me to stay the night, knowing I had to get up early and go to work in the morning potentially leaving him there alone with my wife and young son. If there were other folks around, though, particularly other men, well that’s a different story.

Even though I’m quick to say that my street and many of those around me are very “working class,” the fact remains that I live in a de facto suburb with all of the reputed material abundance that goes along with that, and this is something I’ve felt extremely guilty about since the day we moved in. This relates to my “problem” with the ‘burbs. The relative material ease and comfort of those who live there masks, if it doesn’t cultivate, a poverty of spirit that I think makes it hard for folks to realize their neediness, particularly their need for reconciliation with God, humanity, and the world. Moreover, it’s hard to answer God’s clarion call to do justice in an environment that promotes and is made possible by subtle, but no less devastating and entrenched, injustice.

After reading Shane’s new book, I followed it up with Justice in the Burbs, which was also very good, if a bit more modest in its aim and approach. It was a good, helpful read though I struggle with its concluding implications. I like that it reminds me that doing justice is something that can and must be done wherever you happen to find yourself- and if you find yourself in the suburbs, well- “welcome to your mission field.” I like too that the mission it’s referring to is as much about the missio dei as it is about the Great Com(mission), as this is just the kind of Christian life I endeavor to live. I like that the book reminds me to start small and make incremental changes that will add up over time to bigger ones. One has to start somewhere after all. With this in mind, there is a lot that Kirsten and I are again talking about doing to change our life now, and we are thinking ahead to the bigger changes we can make in the future (with one big change coming soon, Lord willing, when our first foster child comes- whenever that will be).

Still, maybe because I tend to be an “all the way” kind of guy, I’m troubled by the “out” the book’s conclusion gives me, namely, permission to remain in the ‘burbs and do what I can from there. I think it’s just too easy to get caught up in the way of life that suburbia compels and miss most opportunities to meet, know, and love Jesus in “the least of these” altogether. This brings me back to my encounter on Tuesday. Part of what strikes me about it is that it was such a rare opportunity. You just don’t see too many “down and out” folks in Cuyahoga Falls, as suburbia is designed to isolate the “have’s” from the “have not’s.” So I was very pleased, relieved even, by this interruption to my leisure, and I am motivated to cultivate a life in which such an encounter is the rule, not the exception.

I’ve been having some fun conversing with several of my Christian friends about the basis for a godless morality. Many Christians think that there can be no such legitimate basis. They fear that the loss of an objective and absolute moral standard will result in complete moral subjectivity and relativity. I understand this fear because such a world would be a dreadful place indeed. Fortunately, this is a false dichotomy, and there is a middle way.

I will back up this claim with an analogical argument from the nature of language. In a world where everyone makes up his or her own language communication would be next to impossible. You might say, “lbasdf aslgqa asrgalgj,” and I would then have no idea what you are talking about. Or, you might use “table” to designate a car and “teakettle” to refer to a cat. Again, I would have no idea what you were talking about. There would be billions of languages – as many as there are people. A world of complete linguistic subjectivity is frightening to imagine.

We obviously do not live in such a world. We live in a world in which large groups of people share sign-sets and rule-sets which allow them to communicate. So, if it were true that either a perfectly objective standard exists or complete subjectivity will obtain, then there would have to be such an objective standard for our language(s). My question to my Christian friends who think that atheistic morality must be completely subjective because it has no perfectly objective standard, then, is this: what is the completely objective standard for our language(s)?

There is none, you see. It is tempting to point to a dictionary as just such a standard, but this fails for several reasons. Most importantly, languages have been around much longer than have dictionaries, so they cannot be essential to them. Words enter the vernacular long before they enter the dictionary. (Should I also mention the obvious fact that there are multiple, differing dictionaries?) Dictionaries are helpful reference and educational tools, but they are not an objective standard for language. Neither can ‘God’ be… unless you think that he makes up all the words in the world and then clandestinely instills them into each person’s mind – which I doubt you believe.

So we see that language is neither completely objective nor completely subjective. This means that it is useful, since it can succeed in bridging the gap between people, and also that it contains ambiguity, since there is no singular standard for it. What a modest and realistic appraisal! Absolutism vs. relativism and objectivism vs. subjectivism are shown by this to be false dichotomies. It really isn’t a case of either/or. Things can, and often do, have degrees of objectivity and degrees of subjectivity.

No one wants to live in a world where everyone lies and murders, and justifies these actions by appealing to a private moral system which no one else can legitimately denounce. We want to be able to say, “you ought not do that,” and we can, even if we don’t believe in God. We can do this because although no completely objective standard exists, a significant degree of objectivity can still be present in our moral formulations. Let me return for a moment to our analogy to explain how this can be.

The objective component of language comes from the fact that we all inhabit the same world. We can point to a table as we say “table,” and this lets others know what we mean. Similarly, the objective component of morality comes from our cohabitation in the same universe. I know what it is like to live in a world where suffering is a fact of life, and I know that I do not like to suffer. It does not take a leap of faith to believe that you probably don’t like to suffer either. Together (I have not addressed the issue of individualism but this is my nod to its importance), we can develop moral standards which proscribe actions that lead to suffering and perhaps even prescribe those that relieve it. Basically, a shared desire to be free of pain and a shared knowledge of what leads to pain forms a basis for morality. You don’t have to believe in God for the Golden Rule to make sense.

So, I believe that I have shown that there is a middle way between absolutism and relativism when it comes to morality. Such a system has a universal pole and a personal pole but does not collapse to either one (philosophically, such an approach is called critical realism). Now for a few closing remarks which I hope will deal with some possible objections.

Yes, this godless morality leaves room for ambiguity. As I’ve pointed out, language does too, and yet look how incredibly helpful language is to humanity in spite of this ambiguity! (I should note that moral ambiguity is a problem for Christians as well, since the moral code of the Bible is itself ambiguous.) Room is left for multiple, local moralities… just as with language. However, shared human experience will place limits on the range of variability between different systems. The morality which I describe is to be much preferred over a totalizing moral regime, in my opinion. Haven’t we seen what people can do when they are 100% certain that their moral standards alone are true and therefore should be imposed on others? In contrast, atheistic morality is realistic and humble.

I also realize that not everyone displays the same capacity for empathy. As a result, some people will have an underdeveloped moral sense. Of course, a similar problem obtains within Christian circles who agree on a supposed objective moral standard. The difference is that a lack of empathy in this case doesn’t keep a person from knowing what is right, but simply from doing what is right. Is that really so much better? We can and should cultivate our empathic abilities, developing a sense of compassion, regardless of whether we are believers or unbelievers.

For further reading:

• Where do Atheists Get Their Morality From?
• Morality Requires God … or Does It?
• Secular Humanism: Moral Affirmations
• 10 Myths About Secular Humanism

And in your own special way, don’t forget to celebrate:

For more, go here

So I just, finally, finished Jesus for President by Shane Claiborne and Chris Haw. It was an amazing, inspiring, wonderful read- and my head and heart are still spinning a bit. It’s billed as a book “to provoke the Christian political imagination,” and provoke it does. Of course, by “politics” the authors aren’t just referring to the art or science of conducting the affairs of government- or then again, maybe they are, if by “government” one is referring to that of Christ and his kingdom. In any case, these are some of the things I’ve been thinking about in response to what I read. In the book Shane and Chris echo something that actually came up at one of our recent Emergent cohort gatherings, namely that being “born again” is less about some spiritual hoop one has to jump through in order to gain access to God’s kingdom and more about taking on a new identity- a radical re-orientation of one’s self-conception in light of one’s membership in that kingdom, a kingdom “whose gates are always open.” I’ve long talked about yearning for something more, about wanting to be part of something larger than myself, as if I’m Neo and I’m still plugged into the Matrix. I have this sense that something’s not quite right about the world, that there’s something I’m missing, and I’m driven by my question(s).

I’ve said for a while that I think following Jesus should matter- it should really impact every aspect of how I live my life, or in my view, it just isn’t “worth it.” Saying this may make me a (would-be) radical, and if so, I’m just fine with that, for I know no other way to make sense, practically, of the Jesus story. As I’ve said before, if the story is true in any way that doesn’t rob the term “true” of all meaning, then it must be true in a way that changes one’s life- and the life of the world itself- in the manner I’ve described. Andrew Perriman’s mild critique of this approach- in which he suggests that radical “Jesus discipleship” may be a necessary response to the excesses of Modern Consumer Christianity but is not an exclusive or sufficient one (he prefers a “new creation” paradigm)- notwithstanding, I see no other way for the Church to move forward and actually “be the Church.” Claiborne and Haw make this point themselves, I think, in referring to the desert monasticism of the early Church and saying that it was as much about saving the Church as it was about withdrawing from its excesses. They describe it as an “isolation ward” meant to kill a cancer, and I think this is an apt analogy that applies just as well to the phenomenon of “new monasticism” today. What I’m saying is that I don’t believe that the (“First World”/Western) Church can really be that “new creation” without taking the drastic steps that radical “Jesus discipleship” calls for. Or, to quote MLK, Jr.: “The world,” he said, “is in dire need of creative extremists. We live now in extreme times. The question is not whether we will be extremists, but what kind of extremists we will be. Will we be extremists for hate or for love?”

Rather than speaking for Shane and Chris, though, I’ll let them speak for themselves through the following section summaries of the book:

Jesus for President
Chapter/Section Summaries

Section 1
A good Creation of love and beauty takes a turn for the worse, landing it in a murderous chaos. What to do? Flood it and start fresh? Build a tower that reaches heaven? Appoint an adventurous elderly couple to lead the people out of the nations to the Promised Land? Something has to save humanity from themselves …

Section 2
The construction of a set-apart people into a living temple of blessing is going so-so. The solution: God puts skin on to show the world what love looks like. But here’s the catch: the Prince of Peace is born as a refugee in the middle of a genocide and is rescued from the trash bin of imperial executions to stand at the pinnacle of this peculiar people. A strange way to start a revolution …

Section 3
Flags on altars, images of the gods on money … Caesar is colonizing our imaginations. What has happened to the slaughtered Lamb, the Prince of Peace? There seems to be another gospel spreading across the empire, and two Kingdoms are colliding. What is a Jesus-follower to do when the empire gets baptized?

Section 4
Snapshots of political imagination … the question is not are we political, but how are we political. Not are we relevant, but are we peculiar? The answer lies in how we embody what we believe. Our greatest challenge is to maintain the distinctiveness of our faith in a world gone mad. And all of creation waits, groans, for a people who live God’s dream with fresh imagination.

The “fresh imagination” noted above is critical, I think, and this is one of the things I most love about Shane’s books and, more importantly, his example and that of others like him. I wholeheartedly concur that my ability to live as a Christ-follower under the shadow of empire is indeed limited only by my imagination, and the availability of partners with whom my family and I can join in the struggle to really “be the Church.” I only hope to find such friends here in NE Ohio- and soon…