I think we would agree in another instance. I’d appreciate your thoughts in this scenario:
if we look at it from another point of view–if the situation’s explanation would affect outcomes–say, in medicine–then a good outcome would, if physiologically explainable, be worthwhile finding so as to find a cure in the future (which is no less God given). Equally, if the outcome were painful or noxious, it’s best to find a natural cause (rather than a supernatural one) to avoid the outcome in the future.
There seems, to me, to be a God given reason to look for natural causes, too. And, we can praise God just as much for enjoyable outcomes (we accept whatever comes, as you say).
Thanks.
The title of this piece is somewhat shocking, but I found it very thoughtful. I would be interested in what others think.
Thanks.
C. S. Lewis’s Last Written Word: We Have No Right to Happiness (thegospelcoalition.org)
I think certainly with respect to medicine we agree. And of course there wasn’t anything particularly unusual or miraculous about the nephrectomy itself when I lost my kidney, for instance, but some of the surprising (and delightful) timing of causally unrelated circumstances (from an earthly perspective) and events before and after it.
Of course I’m going to bring up the cases of Maggie and Rich Stearns and the miraculous timing of discrete and disjointed sets of events – disjointed except for the individuals in common and the obvious imputed meaning. So the sliding scale of believability and attribution to miraculous intervention is not really a function of the circumstances so much as it is the presuppositions of the individual interpreting them and what they bring to the table in terms of background and faith. Some refuse to recognize God’s providential M.O. no matter how impossibly unlikely the multiple particular circumstances, but that is not the fault of the factual evidence.
Thanks for sharing that Lewis piece (mostly about sexuality - as our particularly common focus whenever we speak of ‘happiness’).
One of the interesting statements from Lewis in it was that he had discovered that when progressive culture claims that sexuality should just be treated like “any other impulse”, he discovered that instead of meaning what it says, progressives actually meant exactly the opposite: That we should treat sex like we have never treated any other of our natural impulses. As in … sexuality is taken to be a sort of privileged ground where I shouldn’t have to suffer any of my impulses to ever be denied! Whereas all reasonable people (or so Lewis reasons) would agree that my covetousness for things or for food or anything else I may take a fancy for should of course be moderated, controlled, even many times denied.
I think I see his point - but only if I can take it as a rather thickly layered hyperbole. Because there are plenty of limitations our society freely builds fences around (even ‘progressive’ society) … that minors should be protected from the sexual impulses of elders … and it’s still scandalous (even if no longer surprising) when rich and powerful men are revealed to be philanderers. And on the other side, we’ve tended to probably “loosen up on” morality generally (among progressives) in that it is no longer popular to speak much of sin - even in a general sense. And that would be what Lewis warns of at the end of his essay - perhaps we’ve simply come so far as that and his essay is prophetic.
But I think Lewis’ criticism (back on the sexuality) may still carry a sharp and currently relevant point for us in that we’ve removed any and all questions about modes of sexuality from any arena where we could speak of any of it as sin (with the possible exception of when assymetrical power is involved). And by extension, we’ve also lost our ability to confront people in healthy and necessary ways and more importantly to welcome accountability for ourselves) within these now sacrosanct modes of existing and relating to each other, especially sexually. The fences around so much of it are now so high and so well guarded (and for a lot of understandable and even good reasons) that most of us simply don’t tread there at all, and a whole realm of highly needed accountability languishes as a result.
It’s not actually a Protestant work ethic in the first place: historically and theologically “Protestant” properly refers to those, and their heirs, who were present at the Second Diet (Council) of Speyers (Latin spelling ‘Speiers’) when the limited religious freedom in the Holy Roman Empire was arbitrarily (and contrary to the wishes of the Emperor!) rescinded, and who filed an official Protestas, a legal Protest against a decision made by the Emperor’s brother and not by the council – and that boils down to the Wittenburg Reformers who got tagged as “Lutherans” (as an insult).
Properly, it’s a Calvinist work ethic, though it carried over into the radical reformation as well.
As you use it, yes. I forget the specific theologian – a Lutheran one of the second generation, I think – who spoke of productivity as an important virtue, but he didn’t mean what people today would mean: the modern use of “productivity” is quantitative, whereas that theologian meant it as “qualitative”. Today we measure productivity in terms of how much gets produced; he meant it as the quality of what one produces, so that the one who makes a handful of ‘masterpieces’ (i.e. pieces of work worthy of a master) is more productive than the one who makes scores of adequate pieces.
Now I say that in pursuit of this thought: what if instead of the meaning the term has come to have western culture had instead focused on that old Lutheran version? [I ask this recognizing that even just three generations ago no worker/craftsman in western society would have been satisfied churning out work suitable for an apprentice; though many would have settled for journeyman quality, the aim was always masters’ pieces.] Rather than stuff meant to last a few years, we would still be seeing things manufactured to last generations (thinking of which, the best hand tools in my house have been handed down from my great-grandfathers!).
Yes. Sadly the real measure of “quality” these days for the most part is, “Will people out there buy it knowing nothing better is available?”
It’s capitalism at its best, but it’s a corruption of the free market; free markets are supposed to function so as to provide what people would actually enjoy having, not just what they’ll settle for because companies turn out the crappiest stuff they can sell.
Amen, and amen!
A dozen years ago now the forest service and Bonneville Power Administration conspired together to gate off all the side roads – which people had been using for longer than my house (built 1918) has been standing – that led to swimming holes and unofficial campsites. I mentioned to the local head ranger at the time that a major result was going to be increased amounts of trash in the underbrush and in the rivers; he didn’t grasp it so I explained that while people heading up to camp near a swimming hole and party for a weekend will happily pack in what they want for enjoyment, they aren’t going to pack it out, that most got packed out before because people’s vehicles were parked a short stone’s throw from the campsites and rivers so even if some didn’t pack up their trash others would haul it out with their own, but when that meant carrying garbage for a five- or ten-minute walk more people wouldn’t carry their own out and fewer people would pick up after others.
I was sadly proven correct; every summer I pack out enough stuff others have abandoned to practically fill my pickup bed. And the other “solution” people use is to burn everything, from food packaging to broken footgear to torn clothing to rubber float tubes, making nice piles of toxic ash just waiting to be added to the river’s flow when the fall rains come.
Note: the forestry people just made it worse by digging deep trenches every ten yards across the old side roads; it’s too bad they can’t be sued for the medical bills incurred when people get injured trying to hike the old roads.
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I suppose he can be forgiven for not knowing what “in the image of” means. If we were “in the image of” the ape that would mean, by the Hebrew meaning, that we were the authorized representatives of the ape and our job was to make things pleasing to the ape.
Other than that, fair point!
I read personal reports from people on or near the front lines, volunteers who have set aside their normal lives to come from all over the world to serve in logistics and medical services so Ukrainian soldiers can be freed up to fight. Many of the things that ordinary Russian soldiers do on a regular basis are beyond what I ever could have imagined on my own, and in sharp contrast to the lies being told by their top leaders.
Hey – I just noticed that I am now within a hundred posts of catching up in this thread!
My reference to the Protestant Work Ethic is to Weber’s insightful coining and use of it in relation to Captialism:
The phrase was initially coined in 1905 by Max Weber in his book The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism.[4] Weber asserted that Protestant ethics and values, along with the Calvinist doctrines of asceticism and predestination, enabled the rise and spread of capitalism.[5] It is one of the most influential and cited books in sociology, although the thesis presented has been controversial since its release. In opposition to Weber, historians such as Fernand Braudel and Hugh Trevor-Roper assert that the Protestant work ethic did not create capitalism and that capitalism developed in pre-Reformation Catholic communities. Just as priests and caring professionals are deemed to have a vocation (or “calling” from God) for their work, according to the Protestant work ethic the “lowly” workman also has a noble vocation which he can fulfill through dedication to his work.
(from Protestant work ethic - Wikipedia)
If we value humans and their activity because they are economically productive, we devalue humanity. And much of that has been done in the “name of Jesus” twisting biblical truths about work. Whatever benefits a capitalistic system provides (and to whom and for what), there are also serious moral and philosopical problems that go with it. I appreciate O’dell’s honesty about these flaws and see her critique as of particular value to Christians who should evaluate systems we participate in with similarly insightful criticism.
This little discourse is too beautiful to read only as an excerpt in an anthology, so I bought the whole book of three. What a strange and interesting thinker Kierkegaard was. Enjoy.
“Look at the Birds of the Air; Consider the Lily of the Field” from The Lily in the Field and the Bird of the Air: Three Godly Discourses by Søren Kierkegaard (trans. Bruce Kirmmse), pp. 34-37.
Oh, but would that the gospel might succeed, with the help of the lily and the bird, in teaching you, my listener, earnestness, and in teaching me to make you utterly silent before God! Would that in the silence you might forget yourself, forget what you yourself are called, your own name, the famous name, the lowly name, the insignificant name, in order in silence to pray to God, “Hallowed be your name!” Would that in silence you might forget yourself, your plans, the great, all-encompassing plans, or the limited plans concerning your life and its future, in order in silence to pray to God, “Your kingdom come!” Would that you might in silence forget your will, your willfulness, in order in silence to pray to God, “Your will be done!” Yes, if you could learn from the lily and the bird to become utterly silent before God, what, then, wouldn’t the gospel be able to help you do—then nothing would be impossible for you. But if the gospel, with the help of the lily and the bird, has merely taught you silence, how much has it not helped you already! For as the fear of God, as is said, is the beginning of wisdom, so is silence the beginning of the fear of God. Go to the ant and become wise, says Solomon; go to the bird and the lily and learn silence, says the gospel.
“Seek first God’s kingdom and his righteousness.” But the expression of the fact that one is seeking first God’s kingdom is precisely silence, the silence of the lily and the bird. The lily and the bird seek God’s kingdom and absolutely nothing else; all the rest will be added unto them. But then, are they not seeking God’s kingdom first if they seek nothing else whatever? How is it, then, that the gospel says: Seek first God’s kingdom, thereby implying that in its view there is something else to be sought next, regardless of the fact that it is indeed clear that the gospel’s view is that God’s kingdom is the only thing that is to be sought? This is surely because it is undeniable that God’s kingdom can only be sought when it is sought first; the person who does not seek God’s kingdom first does not seek it at all. Furthermore, this is because the ability to seek includes in itself a possibility of being able to seek something else, and therefore the gospel—which of course for the time being is external to a person, who is thus capable of seeking something else—says, “You shall first seek God’s kingdom.” And finally, it is because the gospel gently and lovingly condescends to the human being, persuading him bit by bit in order to entice him to the good. Were the gospel immediately to say, “You shall simply and solely seek God’s kingdom,” it would surely seem that too much was required of a person. Half in impatience, half in fear and anxiety, he would shrink back. But now the gospel accommodates itself to him a little. There stands the human being, viewing the many things he wants to seek—then the gospel addresses him and says, “Seek first God’s kingdom.” Then the human being thinks, “Well, then, if afterward I am per mitted to seek other things, let me begin by seeking God’s kingdom.” If he then actually begins by doing this, the gospel knows well what will come next, that he will in fact be so satisfied and sated by this search that he will simply forget to seek anything else—indeed, that there is nothing he wants to do less than seek something else—so that it now becomes true that he simply and solely seeks God’s kingdom.
The situation with being willing to sacrifice one’s only son is unique, though, which is why the thought of whether we would be up to acting as either Abraham or Isaac did is different than any other instance of trust and obedience. Only a faith that would be at the same time confident that God would make things work out – since Isaac was the child of promise – and willing to go ahead if God didn’t work things out so Isaac didn’t get slain fits the very critical step of trusting God enough to do what God was Himself going to do: this isn’t just some random instance of obedience, this is obedience that rises to being like God. It is thus a “hinge point” that had to happen for time to move forward – not that years wouldn’t keep going by, but that the march of those years towards the fullness of time would have turned to marching in place.
And this is hinted at in the text: Abraham assures Isaac that God would provide a lamb, but God doesn’t; He provides a ram. Some would say that Abraham’s confidence was thus misplaced, but it wasn’t; the lamb that God would provide would in a sense be Isaac, the son – though rather the Son, the Lamb.
It wasn’t about empathy, it was about not being able to conceive that there was mind in any creature that wasn’t them – think of it maybe as an extreme form of tribalism. Whether they were capable of empathy for their own kind wasn’t mentioned.
But don’t forget that there have been human societies where betrayal was the highest virtue, not just any betrayal but one that was subtle and thorough and unseen until spring, and others where enemies were regarded as animals (and could thus be eaten). ’
At any rate, such an enemy would fall into the category of one that would have to be annihilated because there would be no possibility of sharing the universe with them – in other words, they would have to be treated the way they treat others.
No. Empathy is exactly the ability to “walk in someone else’s shoes,” to project yourself into their experience and try to imagine what life looks like from their perspective. That ability requires a whole lot of brain, language and cultural/social evolution to achieve. It starts with a basic Theory of Mind, which is a recognition that “the other,” whether a conspecific (same species) or not, has a mind that functions basically like one’s own. I can tell when my dog is weighing his options. Pack animals can predict which direction their prey will flee. Chimps steal food when they know others aren’t looking. Those are the beginnings of empathy, but it required millions of years of evolution to arrive where we are today (and 75,000 years ago).
Edit: Both narcissists and psychopaths lack empathy and, consequently, a conscience. They use others for their own ends without guilt.
It lost me on Chapter 1: “Virtue needs some cheaper thrills.”
I was always a misfit growing up: I never wanted to break things, I never wanted to hurt living things, people or otherwise (except pests that weren’t wanted in the house). Other kids played pranks and laughed at others’ expense, but I just didn’t get it. In junior high that got me made fun of, but in high school it gave me the reputation of not belonging to any cliques because I was unable to see the differences that others found so important; at first that brought hazing but it wasn’t far into my freshman year that the most obvious example of my strangeness brought an end to being picked on – it didn’t matter if another student was looked down on by everyone or envied, whether a nobody or the captain of the cross country or wrestling team, if someone needed help with classes I helped, even helping with classes ahead of me (I’d borrow a copy of the textbook and study it over a weekend until I understood the subject). When the first grade postings came out it varsity athletes and people in about every other group that got looked up to realized that it was my help that got them past those evaluations so they wouldn’t be getting pink slips – which meant no more extracurricular activities – word went down from the lettermen’s club, the drama club, the band and other groups that I was not in any way to be hazed or pranked or anything that might get in the way of my helping other students (interestingly, the faculty didn’t realize what was going on; they noticed that suddenly this freshman was untouchable – the first faculty to figure it out were the coaches of the teams I was on).
I still can’t manage to grasp the motivation of so many people who get angry and want to hurt others.
I think the largest enrollment they ever had for a class was about thirty; there weren’t many students who could squeeze in a class that rarely fit any requirement at the university itself. But even if it had hit double that, they would have just re-arranged the facility every class night to squeeze in everyone who wanted to attend.
“Lord, I believe; help me in my unbelief!”
Or rendered more to the sense of the word, “Lord, I trust [you]; help my lack of trust!”
Well, perhaps they are Calvinists! Total depravity and all that. I am not sure the comic strip would have worked as Arminius and Hobbs, although Calvin sure seemed to exercise free will.
Hey… Enough with the calvinist jabs.
I assume you did know it was a joke, being about Calvin and Hobbs, and actually the blog post referenced discussed some of that. Online comments are so hard sometimes, trying to decipher what is serious, what is satire, and whether the responses are serious or sarcasm. Seriously. (Well, even the “Seriously” was a little tongue in cheek)
Yeah, Phil, I guessed you were joking about C&H. But out of context, in a long thread, it’s not immediately clear. Someone coming in to the middle of the thread, might not recognize it.
For me, it’s rather a cumulative effect, I guess.
We could talk about dill worms and butterflies. Straight-faced. ; - |