No Secrets

The picture is of the opening to my attic, and yes, that is an authentic Cold War-era sign attached to it. I suppose if I had any secrets, the attic is the place they’d go, but I really don’t have anything I’m at all concerned to hide. I am that boring. That’s why all that are up there right now are lots of file boxes full of stuff I haven’t looked at in years and maybe never will.

I got to thinking about this the other day during my religion course at the Biblical Studies Center. We read the following passage aloud from a very imaginative and insightful book by Peter Kreeft called Between Heaven and Hell.

In it, he describes a conversation between John F. Kennedy, Aldous Huxley, and C. S. Lewis, all of whom died around the same time. The following dialogue has to do with religious beliefs that are secret versus those that are out there in the open for everyone to see.

Lewis: …When I stopped being an atheist and started investigating the claims of the world’s great religions, I came to the conclusion that Hinduism and Christianity were ultimately the only two options.

Huxley: Perceptive of you. But they’re not two. They’re one. There’s your mistake: another example of either/or, black-and-white thinking. You can’t see that all religions are one at their mystical core, just as all reality is one at its mystical core. Which is inevitable, since religion is about reality.

Lewis: I agree that religion is about reality. Whether reality is one is a great question of philosophy, and not easily settled. But whether all religions are one is a question of observation, and it is easily settled: just look at their teachings. They’re not the same. They teach contradictory things.

Huxley: They seem to. But that’s only on the surface level, not at their core. Perhaps you’ve read Fritjof Schuon’s The Transcendent Unity of Religions? Alan Watts made the same point in a more popular and lively style: that there are two levels or dimensions in religion – the exoteric and the esoteric, the outer and the inner, the public and the private, the revealed and the hidden. The outer shell of a religion is its creed, code and cult; its words, works, and worship. But the kernel, the inner essence, is the experience of oneness.

Lewis: It seems to me you are saying that Christianity and Buddhism are very much alike, especially Buddhism.

Huxley: You plagiarized that from Chesterton!

Lewis: Yes, I did. I’m glad you have read him.

Huxley: What does it mean?

Lewis: That you’re using Oriental categories to interpret Christianity; you’re Orientalizing Christianity, synthesizing by annexation – spiritual imperialism.

Huxley: Why do you say that?

Lewis: Because the esoteric/exoteric distinction is itself an esoteric, not an exoteric doctrine. It applies to esoteric Eastern religions but not to exoteric Western religions. Judaism, Christianity and Islam are public, open, democratic religions, religions of a Book, open for all to read, not religions of hidden experiences known only to the initiated mystics. They are religions of history and of the deeds and words of God in history. Christianity is ultimately the Word of God in history. All public facts, not private mysticism.

Huxley: You’re probably one of those suspicious fellows who think that mysticism begins in mist, centers in “I” and ends in schism.

Lewis: Actually, I had a different quip up my sleeve: Ronald Knox’s remark about “comparative religion.”

Huxley: What’s that?

Lewis: That it makes you comparatively religious.

Huxley: So you’re not sympathetic to ecumenism?

Lewis: Not when it involves fuzzy thinking and ignoring contradictions.

Huxley: Contradictions appear only on the outer level, the exoteric. If you would penetrate to the inner core, you would find all contradictions resolved in The One. But you ignore that deepest level.

Lewis: In Christianity, the deepest level came out in public: “In him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell.” I’m not ignoring esoteric Christianity; how could I ignore something that doesn’t exist? It’s your invention.

The Gospel means “good news” and it was news that the early Christians proclaimed everywhere they went. It was no secret what they believed. From the beginning, they faced ridicule for insisting that God had come to this world in the flesh. They still do. But even Christianity’s harshest critics knew exactly what it was that they were refuting. It wasn’t hidden or esoteric or available only to the initiated.

Last month, on ABC’s Nightline, Martin Bashir interviewed Tommy Davis, a spokesman for Scientology. They had hardly begun when Bashir asked about Scientology’s teaching that has to do with the evil emperor Xenu. Within minutes of mentioning the name, Davis unclips his microphone and storms off the set. Apparently the deeper secrets invented by science-fiction author L. Ron Hubbard, including the existence of Xenu, are only intended for those initiated into the higher levels of the cult.

Consider the difference with Christianity. As Kreeft has Lewis saying, the Gospel has to do with “public facts” not private or secret “truths.” Mock it or dismiss it altogether, at least everyone knows (or can find out) exactly what this “exoteric” message has to say.

The top one is the “before” picture; the bottom one is the “after.” I’m very grateful for Bill Nutt, whose sixty-some years experience in doing this sort of work certainly shows. He is a professional with an eye for detail, and a generous heart, too.

This was a first for me. I’m not real good with concrete – I suppose in my line of work I’m much more of an abstract thinker. I hauled about three-fourths of a yard of it in a wheelbarrow a week ago. I have a new appreciation for people who do this sort of thing all the time. It’s hard work! I went into teach class that afternoon still sweating. But it was worth all the effort. For years, we have had water drain right next to the foundation of the house, and now with the slope, the problem is solved.

It reminded me a little of the Old Testament story about the Israelites making “bricks without straw.” I actually had some junior high kids try that one summer at camp. Again, it’s not an easy job. Here’s what is amazing to me, though. When you read through the entire story of the Exodus, you discover one of the greatest contributions these people made to human civilization: A day off! Up until that time, you just worked all day, every day, until you died.

It wasn’t the Israelites, exactly, that came up with the idea. It was God. And the purpose was not simply to take a break for one day. It was a Sabbath intended to remind them that there were things much more important than making bricks. In fact, there was one thing more important than all things in this world put together, only it was not a thing. Taking a day to remember God is a way to keep everything else in proper perspective.

Thoughts worth pondering while hauling another load of concrete…

Back to School

It’s that time once again. Classes are starting up, and my calendar says I’ll be busier teaching this round than I’ve ever been: four classes and three different schools. I’m not complaining, though. I will admit, there are times I still dread grading papers. Maybe I just hate to be the bearer of bad news so much of the time! But what I always do look forward to are what I would call “windows of opportunity” for learning. And, as any teacher will probably tell you, the learning goes both ways. I’ve been engaged in some incredible online dialogues about some very heavy subjects, something that I was quite skeptical would ever happen before I started doing this. But happen it does, and I’m ready for more.

Childhood Chums

I did have real friends in school, of course. A few, anyway. One or two. But I always looked forward to a few pleasant moments together with Squiddly and Magilla. And, I still do. [Is that weird?] Two innocent simpletons, one who lived in Bubbleland and the other at Mr. Peeble's Pet Shop. Squiddly had a calm, come-what-may attitude. No matter what he encountered (instant stardom as a surfing rock star; threats from secret agents), he faced it all with a sort of serene cheerfulness. And Magilla was kind to others, above all else. Whether it was delivering dog food or telling stories to O-gee, he did at least one good turn daily. This 500-pound gorilla could sit anywhere he wanted, but he would be sure to ask first.

All good things must come to an end, I suppose. Summer's over. I go back to school next week (on the other side of the desk now). Every once in awhile, though, I turn on cartoons to check and see that my little chums are still there.

Foiled Again

Behold! Here are pictures of my directional discontinuity ring radiatior (DDRR, for short), AKA the "hula hoop" antenna for the 40 meter ham band. As you can probably tell, it is made from flexible dryer vent hose that has been formed into a 9' diameter loop raised up on cinder blocks. It actually looks rather nice, tucked away into an unused corner of my backyard. There's just one problem: it doesn't work. In fact, it tunes up a lot closer to the 80 meter band than it does 40, don't ask me why. It's not like I didn't give it the old college try, either. I spent several hours putting down chicken wire on the ground as a base, carefully measuring the loop, and then tying the hose to the blocks.

I'd like to say at least it "listens" well, and in a way, that's true. Loop antenna tend to be much quieter and they do help reduce static and noise. But the signals I've heard have also been a lot quieter and thus harder to read. There's no doubt in my mind now (after building a 10 meter version a few months ago) that the DDRR is indeed a "compromise" antenna. You can't expect a loop a foot or so off the ground to perform as well as a full-size dipole up in the air. Oh, well. Back to the drawing board.

On the Road Again

The clutch is in. The car runs, drives, and stops. Finally. It took over a month, but our '69 Volvo 145S has a brand new clutch and it is a huge improvement. Installing it, though, was an incredible ordeal. Seriously, that was probably the hardest automotive work I've ever done (and I even had both sons helping), unless you count the time the '53 Chevy wagon quit in a busy Seattle intersection and I had to push it up a slight incline while a friend steered. I thought I was going to have a heart attack that time. This wasn't much better. One day, I saw a thermometer that read 104 degrees, and I was crawling under the car once again, where it was hot and stuffy to say the least. Not to mention, I was getting a little claustrophobic in such confined quarters, like a bear in a great tightness, as Pooh might say. I'm starting to resemble Pooh, by the way - I need to lay off the honey or get taller jack stands.

Anyway, I'm sure me and the boys would agree that it has been a learning experience. We've figured out, through trial and error, that it helps to have all the right tools within easy reach. One in particular was a clutch alignment tool. The first time we bolted everything up, there was no way the gearbox was going to slide into the clutch. I got this little plastic tool (maybe the best ten bucks I've ever spent - and free shipping, no less), and everything lined up perfectly. The other lesson learned is that there's nothing like the feeling of having done it yourself. I should add, having done it right. It's a terrible feeling to have spent countless hours on a repair only to discover that you have to tow it to a shop to undo the damage - I came close a couple of times. Strange as it may seem, though, now every time I shift gears on the Volvo, I get this little self-satisfied smile and I think, "I guess we really did fix our wagon ourselves this time."

Switchfoot

A week ago today we were driving back from Salt Lake City, after having seen Switchfoot once again in concert, this time at the Saltaire Pavilion. Was it worth driving five hours one way through triple-digit temperatures, only to get lost at one point and almost miss it? Absolutely, it was. There were only a few hundred people there at most, and it was great to get up (fairly) close to the stage. I was the old guy wearing the red "i like switchfoot" T-shirt, by the way. On the return trip, I got to thinking about why this particular band has meant so much to me (especially in light of the fact that I'm quickly approaching the half-century mark, as my youngest son constantly reminds me). It's not easy to explain.

When Switchfoot first released "Chem 6A," it just resonated with me like very few songs ever have. The music is incredible (if you've listened to any of their albums, you already know that), but there was something more. The lyrics portray this tension between the ideal and the real - in this case, someone who seems to be settling for the artificial world of entertainment as a substitute for a life that is more genuine but may be harder to attain. Or something like that. I was the student dean of a Bible college at the time, and some of us went to see them when they were part of a line-up that included All-Star United and a couple of other bands. The concert was at a church on the corner of Cloverdale and Fairview, as I recall. Afterwards, I remember writing an article in the student newspaper about the band just because they had made such a huge impression on me.

The other concerts we've been to were held at the Big Easy in downtown Boise (renamed the Knitting Factory, for some bizarre reason). Without a doubt, they have been among the best shows I've ever had the privilege to experience. Let me add, I've been to a lot of concerts over the years: The Stones, The Who, Clapton (multiple times), Dylan, The Police (when tickets cost five bucks), etc., etc. Out of all of them, the comparison I tend to make to Switchfoot is with Bruce Springsteen (believe it or not), right when he was getting big. I draw a parallel not because of musical styles, but because of the energy of his three-hour show back in the early eighties.

We were in the second row that time, and it was obvious that Springsteen was someone who genuinely loved not only making music, but also making a connection with everyone in the audience. That's what every Switchfoot concert I've been to has been like. At the Salt Lake show, Jon actually got off the stage and walked through the crowd in mid-song. The last time they were in Boise, they even brought some kid up on stage to sing along with them. It's like the band sort of makes the barrier between them and the audience disappear.

The other factor has to be the sincerity of their devotion. I remember a quote from an interview Jon gave in the Idaho Statesman. He said something along the lines of: "We're a Christian band by conviction, not merely by musical genre." That has always stuck with me. Again, I don't find it easy to explain why songs like "Meant to Live," "This is Your Life," and "Gone" have been such an inspiration to me, but they just have.

In the last ten years or so (you know you're long in the tooth when you start measuring your life in decades), alternative Christian music (although I'm not real into labels such as that one) has been a catalyst for spiritual transformation and renewal in my life (you might even call it an "awakening"). When I listen to the music that these guys put out, it strikes a chord with me - they're trying to live faithfully in a world that constantly challenges them to do otherwise.

A couple of weeks ago, I had to fill in for our minister and preach a sermon. My chosen text was Ephesians 2:10, my title was "An Unfinished Masterpiece," and I felt like the lyrics from "The Economy of Mercy" was one of the most effective ways I could have found to make the point that God continues to write more lines to the poems of our lives: These carbon shells/These fragile dusty frames/House canvasses of souls/We are bruised and broken masterpieces/But we did not paint ourselves.

I could cite all kinds of other examples to illustrate how these guys have made a huge difference to me, but maybe the best is from my current favorite song, "Burn Out Bright":

If we only got one try
If we only got one life
If time was never on our side
Before I die I want to burn out bright

That's what I'm trying to say.

Religulous

I’ll admit it; Bill Maher is a funny guy. And by taking aim at religion, he’s got more than enough easy targets to hit in his film Religulous. For more than just laughs, Maher attacks the very characters I am likewise outraged or embarrassed by, often because of their hypocrisy or stupidity or both. But the very ones I tend to dismiss as fringe elements (a very small minority out of the many for whom religion matters and ought to be taken seriously), Maher takes to be representative of the whole. My objections to Religulous, though, go far beyond who counts as “fringe” and who does not.

Let’s start at the end, rather than the beginning, because that’s when Maher puts all his cards on the table. After lambasting the major western religions, he concludes his film with a passionate appeal to reject religion entirely, because “religion must die for mankind to live.” We read verses from the Qur’an and the Bible superimposed on scenes of bombs exploding. The end is near, apparently, and our only hope is to stamp out faith in all of its forms, bizarre and otherwise. In stark contrast to religious gullibility, Maher claims, “doubt is humble.” And yet, not once in the film do we ever get the impression that Maher doubts his own assessment of the situation, not even for a moment.

Theism: bad; Atheism: good. This is to me a red flag, to put it mildly. I watched Religulous over the Fourth of July weekend. Just a day or so before, I had heard on the news that North Korean leader Kim Jung Il was threatening to conduct a nuclear test, and had missiles already pointed at Honolulu and San Francisco. As a Communist, Jung Il shares Maher’s atheistic viewpoint, but obviously I’m much more concerned about the damage he could do than any harm inflicted by televangelists. So, why does atheism get a pass?

Let’s not forget Joseph Stalin, whose “Great Purge” in the 1930s was responsible for the deaths of at least 3 million (some would estimate the number to be closer to 9 million). Likewise, Pol Pot’s reign of terror in the “killing fields” of Cambodia decimated roughly a third of the population of that country. Could it be that atheism is as dangerous as religion, if not more so? And yet, Maher makes no mention whatsoever of its recent horrors.

Religulous does have its undeniably funny moments, but if Maher want to be taken seriously, it seems odd to me that he devotes the shortest amount of time in his “documentary” to probably the most intelligent interviewee on the entire film: Dr. Francis Collins, head of the Human Genome Project. In fact, Collins later said that most of the good footage from their discussion ended up on the cutting room floor.

Surprising as it may seem, there were definitely points with which I found myself agreeing with Maher. There are problems when the line between church and state becomes blurry, no argument there. History has demonstrated that time and time again. And I also object to people who use religion as a means to get rich, no less so than Maher does.

But Religulous oversteps its bounds, in my opinion, when it attempts to make its case that the Christian story is nothing more than the first-century variation of a Mediterranean myth that had already circulated for an entire millennium. This is when, in my mind, Maher loses any claims to credibility. That, and the way he insist on calling the last book of the Bible Revelations, instead of its proper title, Revelation, of course.

Are there parallels between the death and resurrection of Christ and similar “dying and rising” myths in the ancient world? Certainly. And the best analysis of them I have ever read comes from none other than C.S. Lewis, who is perhaps best remembered as a Christian apologist, but who was also a renowned expert in world mythology. Lewis basically reasons that the theme of rising from the dead is a universal longing within the human heart, and we would expect to see glimpses of it among the stories that various cultures have told to themselves. You can read more about it in a lecture I wrote for my mythology course:

http://www.commutercampus.com/mythology/powerofmythcritique.html

Maher contends that the Egyptian deity Horus was crucified and resurrected, and thus his story was identical to that of the Christian Gospels, only a thousand years earlier. What escapes the notice of the filmmakers is that these claims are easy to make but very difficult to prove. Let me suggest a starting place: crucifixion was unknown to the ancient Egyptians. In fact, it is this same historical fact that has led many to question the historicity of another religious text, the Qur’an, because the Muslim book makes reference to crucifixions in Egypt as well. There is no evidence that executions ever took place there in such a way at that time.

My favorite scene in Religulous was when Bill Maher stopped in at a “trucker’s chapel.” There he met a few truck drivers who weren’t quite sure what to make of his claims that the Bible was full of contradictions. I guess what I appreciated was how, even though they didn’t know the answers, they didn’t pretend that they did. They made a circle around Maher and prayed for him. Maher told them thanks for "being Christ-like, and not just Christian." There often can be a big difference between the two – unfortunately, it is too easy to wear the label “Christian” but to completely neglect “being Christ-like” at the same time.

In spite of all the many flaws of the film, if Religulous is a reminder not only that such hypocrisy exists, but that it has also been the very thing that has caused many (Maher included) to give up on religion entirely, then perhaps it has served a valuable service.

Please note: the image of the film above is included here only as part of a critical film review - if so requested by the copyright owner, it will be immediately removed.

A Case of Mistaken Identity

We've had Yukon Cornelius for almost two years now (whose name needs no explanation to baby boomers, but his namesake was the gruff prospector on the clay-mation classic "Rudolph"). All this time I've been telling people that he is part Newfoundland, because he is black, hairy and about the size of a small pony. I had to take him to a new vet the other day and, behold, he took one look at him and said he was sure he was Gordon setter.

Notice what the Gordon Setter Club of America has to say about the breed:

"... alert and lively, pleasant and exceedingly loyal They tend to be devoted to members of their household." That fits. Apparently, he had no problem identifying the alpha male, and I literally cannot even go to the bathroom without him following me in there. That leaves very little room to maneuver.

"a Gordon would stay a 'puppy' forever" That fits, too.

"They do, however, need plenty of daily exercise to maintain peak physical and mental condition." We figured this one out by his carrying a Frisbee around in his teeth every waking moment and giving me "the look."

"Constant wagging of their tail seems to be part of their style as well" Check.

"Many Gordons are great talkers. They can develop quite a vocabulary with various tones to express themselves." This one is as completely accurate as it is truly bizarre. It's almost as if he is attempting to form words at times. He'll roll around on the floor moaning or chuckling or whatever it is he does. That coupled with the quizzical expressions he gets on his face can be somewhat unnerving.

Case closed. He's a Gordon.

Raining on the Idaho Film Fest

My son and a few of his little friends spent a couple of days last week putting together a 6-minute film. They worked on it 48 hours straight, in fact, as part of the I-48 film fest in Boise. Last year, their team actually won an award, and they had high hopes this time around, but alas, all their hard work was overlooked on Saturday. But it was definitely a good effort in the sci-fi category.

Afterwards, we went out for Mexican food downtown, planning to go see the Boise Burn play arena football later. The weather seemed fine went we went in; not so much while we were leaving. I don't ever remember it raining quite as hard as it did then, and I've lived in Boise almost twenty years now. We were completely soaked, and I mean drenched as if we had taken a 10-minute shower with our clothes on. The football game was over by the time we started to dry out.

In the midst of the downpour, I got to thinking about something Jesus said once about God: "He sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous" (Matthew 5:45). Maybe this seems like a stretch, then again maybe not, but it occurred to me that there's just no way to tell from outward appearances the difference between the "bad guys" and the "good guys," at least not all the time. We had a discussion in class not long ago about this point as it relates to "cosmic justice." On the one hand, eastern religions often tend to weigh in on cosmic justice in terms of karma and reincarnation. By looking at one lifetime, it may not appear that justice is somehow served: seemingly good people get hurt, and seemingly bad people get away with hurting others. But if the big picture includes multiple lifetimes, then justice is ultimately met because everyone gets exactly what they deserve, nothing more and nothing less, according to this view.

Judaism and Christianity provide a different perspective here. In our class, I mentioned the familiar story of Job, and how, in spite of all his suffering, God never exactly gave him a straight answer as to why he had to go through the ordeal. One way to sum up the story is to say that no answer (for now) is better than the wrong answer. With all due respect to those who embrace reincarnation as a fitting answer to the question of cosmic justice, in my opinion it is too neat and too simple. H.L. Mencken's famous quote may apply here: "For every problem, there is a solution that is simple, elegant...and wrong." As I see it, all Job had been hearing from his friends at the beginning of the book were answers that were "simple" and "elegant." Job had sinned, his friends believed, and therefore he was getting exactly what he deserved. But in the end, God's silence was to be preferred to their wrong answers. "I know that my Redeemer lives," he said (Job 19:25), and even if appearances may seem to totally contradict that belief, trust that God ultimately will bring about justice (but he may not provide easy answers in the meantime) is what matters most.

Shoshone Falls

A week ago, my youngest son and I went on a short road trip down to Twin Falls to go to a concert. It was great: Red Airplanes, Wavorly, The Wedding, and House of Heroes. I'm glad we went because I loved the music, but it was a long drive, I'll admit. As soon as we got there, I drove a couple of miles down the road to take a look at Shoshone Falls. They said a few weeks ago that it was the strongest water flow in ten years. It had tapered off some, but it was still impressive. It's even higher than Niagra Falls! Niagra Falls...slowly I turn...step by step...inch by inch...

Reasons for Hope

One of the saddest things I have ever heard in my life was during a funeral yesterday. A nineteen-year-old girl was trying to say goodbye to her father, a man who died very suddenly last week. Choking back tears, she said her dad always treated everyone he met with respect. I know from first-hand experience that this is true. John Hardison always dealt with people that way, even when it was especially difficult in his role as Deputy Chief of Prisons. He will definitely be missed.

Right after the funeral, I found myself answering questions from one of my online religion students. She shall remain anonymous, but given the circumstances yesterday, it seems that what I had to say to her then was very fitting, and I’m grateful to her for giving me the opportunity to consider again what I believe about death, among other things. I’ll repeat most of it here, for whatever it’s worth.

Not being disrespectful...With the sampler platter of religions you have tried, how do you know your current one is correct? How does your conviction of your religion being the "one" differ from the conviction of the Muslim or Sciencetology?

I really do appreciate your asking questions, and you are not being disrespectful in the least. I’ll do my best to answer them.

The short answer is that to this day, I still have never come across any other religious teacher or philosophical system that compares with not only the life and works of Jesus, but also with his death and resurrection. In my opinion, there are very good reasons to believe that the eyewitnesses who wrote Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John actually did record what they saw and heard from Jesus. A metaphor that I use constantly in my classes is: which way do the scales tip? In this case, I believe they tip in favor of the Gospel, and it is reasonable to believe that what Jesus said was true.

Now for the longer answer. The first time I ever picked up a Bible and attempted to read it on my own was when I spent a night in juvenile detention. I would try it again when I was in college, and by then I would be comparing what Jesus had to say with other voices I had listened to (among them, Buddha and the Maharishi). There seems to be no one who would even come close in terms of Jesus’ integrity and compassion. Is it a “leap of faith” to decide that? Sure, but as I see it, it is not a “blind leap” at all; because you first look to see which way the scales are indicating is the most reasonable. During my freshman year, one book that had a profound influence on me was Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis. While majoring in comparative religion in the years that followed, I never encountered anyone or any system that effectively refuted the conclusion I had reached, although I should stress that I earnestly searched in order to challenge my own beliefs. I did that then and I still do it now.

There are many criteria that must be met, in my opinion, before a religion or philosophy ought to be personally adopted, but I will just mention two. It should not be entirely subjective, and it ought to offer an answer to the mystery of death. In my bio, I mentioned my seeking a sort of “psychedelic enlightenment,” and by that I mean I went the whole nine yards in my search: pot, hash, opium, mushrooms, LSD, the works. I “saw” lots of things, as you might well imagine. I sat on the back step of my friend’s house and I was totally convinced that I had become “one” with a plane flying overhead. But was I? Other relevant questions are: is truth simply whatever I (subjectively) decide it to be? And, is something true just because I say so?

To make a long story somewhat shorter, I think it is more reasonable to conclude that the “world” out there really is “real,” and because of that conclusion, I necessarily have to reject the notion that I had previously embraced within eastern religions that everything ultimately is illusory. The Jewish and Christian view offers a different perspective, one in which God created everything and declared it good.

As to the other criteria, I just attended a funeral for a friend about three hours ago. John, who was not too much older than me, died suddenly of a massive heart attack this week. It was a shock that I am still coming to terms with. Today at the memorial service I heard someone quoting Jesus, who said “I am the resurrection and the life.” It’s a reasonable question to ask, is he really those things? And, why should we believe him when he says so?

Once again, I come back to the eyewitnesses who saw his empty tomb, and I understand that to be a validation of the words he spoke. Jesus offering a solution to the problem of death is crucial. If I can get somewhat personal once more, I’ll add that my brother committed suicide about six months after I became a Christian. I decided it made sense to trust what Jesus had said about himself, even (and maybe especially) when it was most painful.

I already made the point that if I accept one “truth claim” (in this case, that what Jesus said was right), then the necessary implication is that I am at the same time rejecting those competing truth claims that deny it. I hope that makes sense. It simply means I can’t have it both ways. But you ask a great question about other groups that are likewise exclusive. If I had more time, I’d make the case that every religion similarly insists that their way is the one, most accurate and comprehensive way – the claim itself is certainly not unique to Christianity.

To be completely honest, I really do hope to maintain my faith in Jesus without any smugness or superiority or intolerance. For example, accepting Christianity reasonably has to mean rejecting atheism. But does it also mean that a Christian has to resort to violence or intimidation or the illegitimate use of power against atheists to try to force them to accept what he or she believes? Absolutely not. By the way, I really am convinced there is much to learn from other religions and philosophies – I’m finding out new things all the time, and it definitely keeps me humble knowing I have so much to learn.

Prayer Meeting at the Tool Company

Every Friday morning, I meet with some of the guys for a Bible study over breakfast. Last time my friend Cleve made a suggestion that since a local tool company is facing tough times in this economy, we ought to go over there and pray for them. He was right – prayer helps, and it makes sense to go there and do just that, especially since some of our good friends and fellow believers depend on it to make a living. So we did. A few of us got together in their conference room and spent some time praying that God would continue to bless their tool business.

I have to say it was a welcome reminder of what an elder is supposed to be all about. My favorite description of what an elder in the church is to be is simply a “shepherd.” Elders “tend” the “flock.” Yes, at times, they have to attend meetings, make decisions, and figure out how to spend money. But much higher on the list of priorities, in my opinion, is that elders are supposed to be shepherds. And it felt right to be there in that conference room praying with some of the very people who are most affected by the economic downturn.

Today is a good day to remember, too. It was 29 years ago today that I stood up in the back row of a worship service at a college retreat and interrupted the minister by asking to be baptized. It’s a good day for another reason: my own brother is being acknowledged as an elder in his congregation on this May 3rd as well. Not to mention, Dad would have been 77 on this day, too. My prayer is that we would always bear in mind the things that matter most.

No More House of Blues

We spent most of last week in Los Angeles, partly to go see Jeff Beck at the El Ray in Hollywood, but mostly to go to Disneyland for a few days. The concert was awesome, of course, and even more so since Rod Stewart came out to sing "People Get Ready" and "Ain't Superstitious." As much as I may be a Clapton fan, I still have to admit that Jeff Beck is in a class all by himself.

Disneyland was a non-stop marathon of riding Indiana Jones, California Screamin', and Space Mountain, with a few turns at some of the other rides to catch our collective breath. In Downtown Disney, you'll find the famous House of Blues. We went one time a few years ago to the Gospel Brunch there, but we've never been back. Now every time we are within sight of it, my family has to endure my tirade against it. The food wasn't all that bad, as I recall, and the music was good. Believe it or not, the issue is actually the decor. Let me explain.

For whatever reason, painted on the wall right above the stage are symbols of the major world religions, and in the center are three words: "All Are One." I'm sure by now my family is tired of me asking this question, but I'll ask it one more time: just what exactly is that supposed to mean? If it means all of the different faiths are one in the sense that they share a common ethic, all is well and good. But then why not simply paint "Love your neighbor as yourself" up above the stage instead?

I tend to think it is supposed to mean something much different, along the lines of all religions essentially teaching the same "truths" but they may use different words to do so. To illustrate why I object so strongly to such an idea, let me describe one other incident during our trip to LA last week.

It happened at an In-N-Out Burger near Anaheim. A homeless guy walked up to our table while we were eating, and he started talking about how the next Great Depression isn't still to come, it's already here. He's about my age, unshaven, eyes reddened and clothes reeking of alcohol, and he's going on and on about the economy. It suddenly occurs to me (I'll be the first to admit, I'm more than a little slow) that he's trying to explain his destitute situation to me so he can get a little help.

I have to preface what happens next by saying, you'll just have to take my word for it that I didn't buy the man dinner (his name was Art, by the way) just so I could feel good about myself. And I sure didn't say to my boys, "Hey kids! Look over here! Dad's about to perform another act of righteousness!" I'm not trying to pat myself on the back or toot my own horn here.

In fact, the real reason I got him a double meat-double cheese burger and a chocolate shake is because I thought it would be a good idea to practice what I preach. Sometimes when I tell people that I work in a homeless shelter, they say that they feel guilty about not handing out money to anybody who happens to be holding up a cardboard sign. I tell them that their money would be much better spent if they made sure it went to actually feed and house people. So instead of giving Art a few bucks and sending him on his way, we both went up to the counter and I placed his order. He then began to ask me about Boise State, and he offered his many opinions about the Western Athletic Conference.

Later, long after we have left the In-N-Out, something else occurs to me, and it all comes down to why I object to what's painted at the House of Blues. Buying a burger for Art is nothing more than a drop in the bucket. I'm not at all trying to discount the many worthy donations that people make to help the homeless (obviously, the Lighthouse Rescue Mission where I work depends on them) but the question is, how much would ever be enough?

Now I realize that even though one fast-food dinner may not make much of a difference to the world hunger problem, it still made a difference to Art that night, and that has to count for something. What I'm trying to get at here is really, who's doing the counting? And how many drops would it take to fill the bucket? A million? A billion? How many acts of righteousness would it take? How many random acts of kindness would ever be sufficient?

The short answer should be obvious: no amount of "being good" would ever be enough. Christianity is very clear on this point - if it all depended on our doing the right and avoiding the wrong, we'd be in real trouble. The Apostle Paul even goes so far to say that religion itself can be the problem, because it can give us this false sense of security that deep down inside, we really are pretty good people.

But the cross ought to be convincing evidence that we're not. The Gospels claim that Jesus was the Lamb of God, offered on the cross as a sacrifice because all of us have utterly failed to live up to God's standards (including, perhaps most especially, the Golden Rule). Any good that I do, like buying a cheeseburger for a stranger, is only another way of saying thanks to God for giving me as a gift what I could never accomplish on my own.

So what's that got to do with the "All Are One" at the House of Blues? I tell students in my religion classes that in order to truly understand the various traditions, it's necessary to be aware of both similarities and differences. And the central doctrine of Christianity, the notion of grace in the sense that God has already done for us what our own "acts or righteousness" never could, is indeed different than other religions.

To draw a parallel, does Buddhism teach that although every one of has accumulated a karmic debt over many lifetimes, someone else has stepped in and paid the bill in full, no strings attached? No. Does Islam say that the Five Pillars ought not to be performed in order to make us righteous, but instead should be done out of gratitude to Allah for already graciously declaring us to be righteous? Again, no. All are certainly not one; it is not the case that every religion teaches the same thing in this regard. And that's the long story behind my decision to avoid the House of Blues.

The Rat Hole

Money pit. Good money after bad. Money down a rat hole. Notice a recurring theme? You’re looking at a 1969 Volvo 145S station wagon, which is currently in the shop, and which has been the recipient of way too much of my money lately. Fix the turn signal? Sure, we can do that, but in the process, we’ll have to replace the hazard flasher (which almost caused a fire) and re-route some of the wiring. That’ll be $200, please. Replace the oil pan gasket? Of course, we can do that, but it requires removing the front axle. Another $300, please. This is getting redonkulous, as my son would say.

One of my students in Eastern Religions class re-stated Buddhism’s Four Noble Truths by saying, “Don’t get your hopes up and you’ll never get disappointed” (that’s a paraphrase of his paraphrase). I think the concept of non-attachment probably goes a little deeper than that, but it seems to be on the right track.

Still, I think Jesus said it much more profoundly than anyone when he said, “Do not store up treasures for yourselves on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” (Matthew 6:19-21).

As far as the Volvo goes, I don’t lose any sleep worrying about the thieves, but it’s too late for the rust. Anyway, the simple truth is that it’s just a car. Now if you’re a car guy, hearing that is like fingernails on a chalkboard. Car guys don’t like facing that fact. But it’s true. It’s just a car. And as someone once very wisely observed, you shouldn’t love anything that can’t love you back.

Paul, Ringo & TM

This week we started another class in eastern religion, and it’s going to be a good one, I can tell. I will have occasion during the next few weeks to mention TM. Other than the fact that it is a contemporary form of Hinduism, there are two other reasons why Transcendental Meditation is a useful example for us to consider in a college course like this one.

First, as I usually mention on the first night of class, it illustrates the importance of the First Amendment with regard to the non-establishment clause. This was the basis for the court’s decision not to allow TM to be introduced into public schools, and I think it was a good call.

I want to stress that I don’t really have an axe to grind as an ex-TM practitioner, although it may seem that way. The non-establishment clause protects all of us, or at least it is supposed to. By way of example, it would be hypocritical of me to agree with the court decision in this case on the one hand, but then somehow insist that those same public schools observe sectarian prayers on the other hand. I’m aware that this is a controversial issue for some, but I hope you understand the point I’m trying to make. That’s why I don’t support much of what I have heard in favor of “school prayer.” The law of the land doesn’t make exceptions somehow when it’s the “good guys” who are on “our side.”

At the risk of beating a dead horse, the second point is that critical thinking is more important when it comes to the subject of religion, not less. For years now, I’ve heard the claims about TM and how if a high enough percentage of a given population meditates, crime rates go down. The studies are simply not true, and the fact that so many of the reports come from Maharishi University ought to be reason enough to raise eyebrows. Sometimes in class I mention best-selling author Deepak Chopra – he was one of the authors involved in promoting TM along these lines. You can read more of the story here (as long as the link is active):

http://www.aaskolnick.com/naswmav.htm

But again, I want to point out that fair is fair, and if I were to encounter incredible claims of “miraculous healings” from a church or ministry organization, then it would only make sense that I would apply those same principles of critical thinking in evaluating them. Skepticism is not a bad place to begin, even (maybe especially) when it comes to groups with whom you may tend to be sympathetic.

The following is a letter to the editor, sent in this week to the Idaho Statesman. Maybe they’ll publish it, maybe they won’t. What prompted me to write it was a picture I saw in the paper of a recent concert.

The picture in Monday’s Statesman of Paul and Ringo reuniting onstage only tells part of the real story – the rest of it has to do with the millions of dollars David Lynch is raising to promote Transcendental Meditation within public schools. The David Lynch Foundation website proudly displays a “Today Show” video clip about how hundreds of Detroit middle school kids have already been trained in TM. To claim that their goal is simply “teaching at-risk youth to meditate,” as Monday’s article implies, is disingenuous at best and downright deceptive at worst, especially since the New Jersey Supreme Court already declared in 1987 that TM was undeniably religious and therefore could not be taught in public schools.

The First Amendment guarantees our rights as Americans to follow our chosen religion (if any); it certainly does not allow for proselytizing in public schools with the Maharishi’s form of Hinduism, or my form of Christianity, or any other faith. In spite of Lynch’s claims to the contrary, TM is indeed a religion. I should know – I mindlessly made offerings of fruit and flowers to Guru Dev myself before receiving my mantra back in the seventies. You can find out more details at www.suggestibility.org.

A Vision Realized

Finally! Ten Mile Christian Church has an official move-in date into our new home at the corner of Ten Mile and Franklin in Meridian, ID. And what better day than Resurrection Sunday? On April 12, 2009, we will be celebrating Easter in worship together at 9:30 and 11:15. My boys and I are even planning to do puppets that morning for the kids. By the way, everyone (and that means you) is cordially invited to be there, too.

Our family took the grand tour last Sunday. Our new "stomping grounds" are huge and impressive. but it is still just a building, nothing more. What matters most, of course, is what takes place inside. that's where the real "church" is.

I got to talking to my friend Adam during the tour and he mentioned how long we had been riding on vans and buses to off-site parking. Seven long years! Hard to believe...but we've known and planned ever since that time to to relocate due to our size. That day has now come. We are glad.