Hodgepodge

1. Steve Jobs’ Last Words

Apparently, Steve Jobs’ final utterance before his death last month was “Oh wow.”  How ironic (or appropriate?) that these were the last words of a man whose innovations in computer technology prompted millions of people to utter those same words.  Here are some interesting reflections on Jobs, last words, and life after death by Brad Hirschfield and Christopher John Farley.

2. The Occupy Wall Street Movement Turning (More) Violent

Many people have expressed concern about the fact that the OWS protestors have not exactly modeled civility.  We’ve all seen the images and reports of pollution, destruction of property, sexual assualt, verbal abuse, public defecation, and public sex.  Now there are reports of shooting deaths in Oakland and Burlington.  This is not going to end well.

3. The Penn State Atrocity

This story is an outrage at many levels.  And it is a sad illustration of some critical moral truths.  For one thing, it is an example of how one man’s indiscretion can devastate an entire community.  It also shows how a sin of omission (here, the failure to properly hold another person accountable) can be as devastating as a sin of commission.  As Edmund Burke famously declared, “All that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.”  Or, in this case, not quite enough.

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Snapshots

Brief comments on film by Amy.
Some old, some new.  Domestic films and foreign too.

Bridesmaids—I was stalking area Redboxes on a regular basis in order to get this one soon after it came out. While it was funny, I am uncomfortable with seeing woman stoop to the level of potty humor (literally) once reserved for guys like Jim Belushi and Chris Farley. If this is how far we’ve come, baby, I think a u-turn might be in order.

The Dark Knight—I tried. I truly I did. But I just don’t get it. Certainly, I have no objections to a bit of fluff but why do these Batman films take themselves so seriously? And why do they have to be so stinkin’ long? As the saying goes, if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all. (Cue silence and chirping crickets).

The Trip—For the first 30 minutes, I felt so uncomfortable watching this movie that I actually turned it off several times. This mockumentary about two friends who go on a food road trip through the north of England inspires such observer discomfort that I found myself cringing. It is difficult to decide who to have more sympathy for—Stephen, the commercially successful actor looking to prove he’s a true artist, or Rob, his less well-known but better adjusted friend. I kept turning it back on, if for nothing else than to witness the amazing scenery and eat vicariously through the film. The characters settle in and as they become more comfortable with one another, I felt like I could make direct eye contact without embarrassing anyone. Also, I was actually touched by the message. If you like food, England, Michael Caine or ABBA, this film is for you.

Everything Must Go—Will Ferrell is a stud of an actor. The guy can do anything. Anyone who has convincingly played an elf, an IRS agent, and a down-and-out alcoholic salesman must be good, not to mention (but in fact to mention) that he actually kept up with Bear Grylls in the Arctic. This performance was no exception in terms of quality, and though I didn’t think the film as a whole worked, it certainly wasn’t due to Ferrell’s performance.

Mentions, both Honorable and Otherwise—Homeschooling and crazy kid schedules have me curled up with the iPad and my favorite network apps lately. I know I should be ashamed but my brain just doesn’t feel capable of much more than mainstream television right now. I have been really enjoying Up All Night (NBC) and Case Histories (PBS). Is anyone else still trying to figure out if they like Once Upon a Time (CBS), by the writers of Lost? With certain shows, I can acknowledge their lack of intellectual content and love them anyway, like the bad jokes your kids tell you. They are beneath you but entertaining. But if I am going to watch a show about fairy tale characters suffering from amnesia and trapped in modern Maine, it better be good. Part of me is ready to blow it off but the other part appreciates the moral certainty of good and evil the show embraces and doesn’t want to lose bragging rights (i.e. “I watched it from the first episode,” as opposed to “I caught up with three seasons worth of shows in less than a month”).

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Angels and the Image of God

Are angels made in the image of God?  Some answer negatively on the basis of the fact that Scripture affirms this of human beings (cf. Gen. 1:26-27) but nowhere explicitly says the same of angels.  But to conclude from this fact that angels must not be made in God’s image is a case of the ad ignorantium fallacy (appealing to ignorance).  In fact, there are many good reasons to believe that angelic beings are divine image bearers:

  1. The Essence of Divine Imaging—What does it mean to bear the divine image?  Presumably this has to do with certain essential “soulish” capacities that a being has in common with the Deity.  Three such characteristics come to mind:  (a) cognitive capacity—the ability to use reason, form beliefs, perceive things, etc.; (b) conative capacity—the ability to make choices or act intentionally; and (c) moral capacity—being such that one’s choices are susceptible to ethical evaluation (praise and blame) and having duties or obligations.  Do angels have such capacities?  According to the biblical accounts, angels clearly have cognitive, conative, and moral capacities just as humans do.  It would appear, then, that they bear the image of God.
  2. “A Little Lower than the Angels”—It is said about Jesus that God “made him a little lower than the angels” (Ps. 8:5 and Heb. 2:7).  Presumably this refers to the fact that in sending his Son to Earth in human form he was in this way making him “lower than the angels.”  But if humans bear God’s image and angels don’t, then surely humans would not properly be considered “lower” than angels.  It seems, then, that angels also must be divine image bearers. 
  3. The Glory of Angels—It is clear from many biblical passages that angels are immensely glorious beings, so much so that even righteous people are tempted to worship them (cf. Rev. 19:10).  Moreover, angelic beings such as the archangel Gabriel, are given significant cosmic responsibilities.  The notion that such beings do not also bear the image of God seems incongruent with these facts.
  4. Angelic Impersonations of Humans—In some biblical narratives angels appear in human form (e.g., Gen. 18-19, Gen. 32:22-32, Heb. 13:2, etc.) in order to perform certain tasks.  And down through history there have been thousands of reports by Christians of encounters with angels in human guise.  The fact that such impersonations occur also seems incongruent with the denial that angels are divine image bearers.
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Stranger Than Friction

One benefit of homeschooling I never anticipated is that in the process of educating my kids, I have learned a great deal as well. My knowledge of ancient history, sentence diagrams, and a myriad other missing pieces in my own education have filled in quite nicely over the years. Just recently, while studying science with Maggie, an insight bopped me on the head rather like Newton and his gravitationally driven apple. The lesson regarded friction and simply stated that every time two things rub against each other there is friction and that this friction is what causes things to slow down. There are, of course, instances in which there is very little friction, which is why I spend many winter months picking my sorry carcass off the ice-covered ground. But even as I go bottom up, friction is still present, a small but ever present grace that prevents me from skidding into infinity.

While I certainly appreciate the force that keeps from careening into oncoming traffic, I am often less grateful when it comes to friction of a more relational nature. Sometimes the objects that rub against one another aren’t my rear and the frozen tundra but rather my own will, desires, and personal quirks and those of my family and friends. It doesn’t feel much like grace when it is my plans that are being slowed down by the plans of others pulling in the opposite directions.

Though I usually view this friction as something to be avoided or at least ignored, something in the simplicity of second grade science tells me that friction, whether physical or emotional, has been carefully woven into our world with a purpose in mind. When my body encounters friction with, let’s say, pavement, it is my skin that generally gives way. When my willful spirit encounters friction with, let’s say my husband and his willful albeit generally more rational spirit, it is my flesh that comes off. Not my physical flesh but the flesh of my sin nature. This friction slows me down so that I can be changed into something new. Again it is often painful, but if seen as grace it can be a transforming pain that brings to life a new creation.

One day, gravity will release its hold on this battered and bruise shell of mine. I will rise to Heaven and be greeted by my King. On that day, He will make sense of all that seems senseless now. He will take all those friction-inflicted wounds and make them beautiful.

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The Tree of Life

As Fall approaches every year, I begin to compile my “best of” music and film lists.  This year it appears my choice for film of the year will be an easy one:  The Tree of Life.  And judging by the critical responses and festival awards, it might top plenty of other lists as well.

The Tree of Life is the creation of Terrence Malick, whose other films include The Thin Red Line (director) and Amazing Grace (producer).  You know a filmmaker has accomplished something special when people begin to compare him to some of the great poets and novelists.  In this case, reviewers have put Malick in the company of literary figures such as Wordsworth, Melville, and Whitman.  This is because of the singular artistry of The Tree of Life, which is innovative in just about every way a film can be.  The story line concerns a family’s fumbling efforts to deal with tragic loss, and Malick drives the narrative with mosaic-like cinematography.

But what might be most remarkable about The Tree of Life is its strong Christian message.  The film opens with a quote from the book of Job:  “Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation . . . while the morning stars sang together and all the angels shouted for joy?” (Job 38:4, 7).  All that follows powerfully reinforces that rhetorical question, as God’s meticulous design in nature is visually illustrated in everything from astronomical events to microscopic biological functions.  So as viewers experience the characters’ grief, they do so in light of God’s sovereign care.

Malick takes stylistic and thematic risks in The Tree of Life.  Some have been critical of the film’s storytelling technique, and I believe that is just because it departs from the usual Hollywood narrative approach.  But if ever such a departure was appropriate, it is in The Tree of Life—a film that counters standard thinking about suffering with a biblical perspective.  Such a bold endorsement of Christian themes in an artwork requires radical artistic innovation, both to get our attention and to match form to content.  Malick’s innovation pays off, and the result is a cinema masterpiece.

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Where Muslims are Getting it Right

The conspicuous appearance of red and yellow amongst the green leaves along the highway has forced me to admit that summer is no more. I can deny it all I like but the months of late night movie watching, sleeveless dresses and ceiling fans are behind us. Early bedtimes, leggings and cardigans and my down comforter stand ready to take their place.

A sigh of remembrance escapes like the birds flying south as I fondly remember this summer’s highlights. Despite the scorching temps, one of those highlights for the kids and I was our visit to the Indiana Dunes. I marveled at their seemingly endless energy while I kicked back and indulged in one of my favorite activities—people watching. There are plenty of people to watch on the shores of Lake Michigan. Since we spend most of the summer on the shores of Taylor Lake, the quantity of people is a bit of shock, not to mention the amount of flesh most of those people reveal. Just as I was beginning to feel a bit self-conscious in my tankini, however, there arrived on the scene a notable exception—a large Muslim family. The women were clothed from head to toe, but this didn’t stop them from racing into the water and having a blast. Having watched young (and old) women pull and tug at their suits all day, it was refreshing to see women enjoying the water without the awkwardness that generally accompanies going out in what is essentially underwear.

This got me to thinking about our fellow monotheists and what we, as evangelical Christians might learn from their example. Here are a few areas where, it seems to me, many Muslims are getting it right, perhaps more right than we are, in fact:

  • Modesty:  I’m not as familiar with what is going on in the Abercrombie and Fitch of mainstream culture and dress as I once was, but as a frequent visitor to a conservative evangelical school I can tell you that we are losing the battle for the modesty among our young women. They might not be going as far as their secular sisters, but they are going far enough. The funny, or sad, thing about it is that while they might argue that it is their right to enjoy the bodies they have been given, if they are enjoying themselves, they look very uncomfortable doing so. They are constantly adjusting bra straps and tugging at hemlines. Unlike the young Muslim women I saw on the beach, they seem consumed with self-consciousness about their bodies. I am not suggesting that Christian women adopt the tradition of the hijab, but surely there is reasonable compromise between concealing one’s body completely and going around with your butt cheeks hanging out. The irony is that so often people criticize the extreme modesty of the Muslim faith for taking away the individuality of women. Ladies, I assure you, it isn’t your individuality men are valuing when your bodies are on display for all to see. While there is certainly a case to be made against the culture of Islam for its mistreatment of women, I am not sure we are treating our sisters and daughters much better when we surrender them to the vice of immodesty.
  • Family Size:  It is strange that with a tag like “evangelical” we don’t seem to emphasize the most natural, and statistically most effective, method of evangelism—making disciples through procreation. The average Muslim family has three children and, while I couldn’t find a statistic specific to evangelicals, if our church is any indication, the American church falls much closer to the average of less than one per household. I know there are myriad factors that play into the extremely personal and individual decision of family size but it should be something that is wrestled over and treated with all seriousness. And it isn’t just the number of children we have, but the value placed on home life in general. For thousands of years, Christians have deeply valued home as a place of instruction, nurturing and refuge. Now our external focus challenges these basic values.
  • Devotion to Spiritual Disciplines:  The greatest distinction between Christianity and other religions is the idea of grace. This counterintuitive concept that the price for our salvation has been paid not by the sweat of our own brow, but by the blood of God Himself seems too good to be true. And yet is it true and it is good. So why does this good news not drive us to our knees each day in sheer wonder and gratitude? Why does it not see us forsaking the pleasures of food and material possession in order to see this gracious God more clearly? Why do many folks who reject the notion of grace set a better example of religious devotion? Why are they, who have no assurance of pardon or forgiveness, the ones praying five times a day? We are often labeled “fundamentalists” when we seem to have forgotten the fundamentals of our faith. Certainly, I mourn for those who devote themselves to empty rituals that get them no closer to heaven, but I mourn for myself and others when we forsake spiritual discipline altogether and get no closer to Christ.
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Seven Reasons for the Liberal Arts—Part 2

Here are my four other reasons for studying the liberal arts:

Reason #4:  Studying the liberal arts builds the virtue of self-control.  Admittedly, if you study the liberal arts, you are bound to encounter subjects you don’t like and even find tedious and annoying.  That’s fine.  But then you have the opportunity to grow.  Studying subjects you dislike is a good discipline and builds self-control, which is a fruit of the Spirit (cf. Gal. 5:22-23) and fundamental to godliness.  Athletes intentionally do unpleasant and tedious exercises like wind sprints and weightlifting, yet they know its valuable because it gets them ready to compete.  How much more value does self-control and godliness have?  The Bible says “physical training is of some value, but godliness has value for all things, holding promise for both the present life and the life to come” (1 Tim. 4:8).  Studying subjects you dislike is valuable because of how it builds self-control and, thus, makes you more godly.

This is not to say that the life of a liberal arts learner is not pleasurable.  Self-control is not inconsistent with a life of pleasure.  (Just ask Mr. Christian Hedonist, John Piper.)  In fact, the life of broad learning is actually the most pleasurable.  We all find pleasure in participating in and discussing things that interest us.  So those who have more interests have more ways of finding pleasure in life.  On the other hand, the less you know, the fewer interests you’ll have and thus the less fun you can have and the more easily you can be bored.  So whenever I hear someone say, “I’m bored,” I think “Well, that’s probably because you’re boring.  And you’re boring because you don’t have enough interests.  And you don’t have enough interests, because you haven’t learned enough.  What you need is a liberal arts education!”  That’s just what I think to myself.  I rarely say that out loud.  (And I have the self-control to resist saying it because I have a liberal arts education.)

Reason #5:  Studying the liberal arts makes you a more open-minded person.  Open-mindedness is an intellectual virtue.  It is the virtue of being willing to consider new ideas, perspectives, or entire subjects.  The open-minded person is generally willing to give something or someone a fair hearing.  In contrast, the closed-minded person is intellectually foreclosed against new ideas or perspectives.  In the context of education, this vice is displayed by anyone who stubbornly refuses to consider a legitimate idea or perspective.  It is also evident in anyone who begrudges the study of math or biology or art or any other entire field of study.

Closed-mindedness is a vice and intellectually deadly for anyone, but it is especially tragic in young people.  As a person ages—and this includes college professors—they experience what might be called “hardening of the categories” as they close their minds to new things.  People are most imaginative and intellectually fertile in their younger years.  (This is why the most groundbreaking achievements in art, science, and literature tend to be made by those who are relatively young.)  So to be a closed-minded young person is like choosing to be prematurely senile.

Like humility and winsomeness, open-mindedness is the sort of virtue that is not only attractive but tends to inspire the same quality in others.  If we are willing to give others’ ideas and opinions a fair hearing, then they will be more willing to listen to us as well.  So a simple application of the Golden Rule shows us that we should strive for this trait.  And, of course, studying the liberal arts is crucial to doing so.  Exploring a variety of subjects opens the mind to new vistas of insight and understanding.

I should add that as Christians (and who, by the way, are foreclosed on the creedal points—such as the triune reality of God, the divinity and resurrection of Christ, and the need to obey him), we have nothing to fear when it comes to new ideas and innovations.  This is because, as the well-worn dictum goes, all truth really is God’s truth.  So we can be adventurously open-minded in our studies while unwaveringly committed to the verities of our faith.  And that is the essence of a Christian liberal arts education.

Reason #6:  Studying the liberal arts is a biblical duty.   Proverbs 4:7 tells us to “Get wisdom.  Thought it cost all you have, get understanding.”  And in hundreds of other biblical passages we are told to pursue wisdom and understanding.  The biblical writers did not restrict the subjects of “understanding” to your major or just the stuff you’re interested in.  Presumably, they mean any kind of genuine understanding of truth, goodness, and beauty.  So it appears we have a duty to learn in every discipline.  Christian liberal arts colleges like the one where I teach are simply being faithful to this biblical mandate.

Reason #7:  Studying the liberal arts is essential to Christlikeness.  In the Gospel of Mark we read that the people said about Jesus, “he has done everything well” (7:37).  Jesus, it appears, was the ultimate example of the versatile student.  Lest we dismiss this as an automatic consequence of his being divine, don’t forget that the New Testament also tells us that Jesus “grew in wisdom and stature” (Luke 2:52) and that he even “learned obedience” (Heb. 5:8).  Being fully human, Jesus shared these experiences with us, including all of the difficulties and suffering that they entail.  Since we are commended to imitate him in every way, we too must learn obedience, grow in wisdom, and, yes, do everything well.  And, of course, this is precisely the point of a Christian liberal arts education—to make us Christlike learners.

So there you have it—seven reasons, among myriad others I’m sure, to study the liberal arts.  To summarize, if you want to know the wisdom and beauty of God, if you want to be a strong ambassador for Christ, if you want to avoid embarrassing your faith, if you want to display the fruit of the Spirit, if you want to have the virtue of open-mindedness, if you want to fulfill your biblical duty to pursue wisdom and understanding, if you want to be more like Christ; in short, if you want to be a better Christian, then you need to study the liberal arts.

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Seven Reasons for the Liberal Arts—Part 1

The school where I teach, Taylor University, is a Christian liberal arts college.  Sometimes I am asked for a rationale for the liberal arts and, specifically, why a liberal arts education is important from a Christian point of view.  In this and my next post, I will provide such a rationale.

I considered giving my reasons in the form of a top ten list.  But top ten lists are cliché.  So I’m going to do something completely different.  I’m going to use a top seven list.  I will propose seven good reasons for studying the liberal arts—seven reasons why disciples of Jesus should be intellectually versatile.

By “liberal arts” I mean, of course, that wide range of studies that includes the humanities and sciences, from art to zoology.  So why as Christians should we be committed to liberal arts learning?

Reason #1:  Studying the liberal arts enables you to better appreciate the wisdom and beauty of God.  God is the source of all truths of science, math, history, psychology, theology, and every other discipline.  As the apostle Paul says, in Christ “are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge” (Col. 2:3).  So to study in literally any discipline is to understand Christ better.  Even the most abstract or minute insights about differential equations, mallard migration patterns, or the history of the French Revolution reveal something about the genius of God.  And any insight into the divine is a profound insight.

Also, all of the beauty found in the creative arts, from painting to poetry to music and theater, is ultimately derived from the beauty of God.  As Alain de Botton puts it, “beauty…is a fragment of the divine…  The qualities of beautiful objects are those of a God from whom we live far removed, in a world mired in sin . . . but bittersweet tokens of a goodness to which we still aspire.”[1]  God is the source of all aesthetic excellence wherever it might be found, so to experience beauty in any domain is to indirectly experience God’s beauty.  And liberal arts training gives us the greatest exposure to that beauty.

Reason #2:  Studying the liberal arts helps you to avoid embarrassing your faith.  To explain what I mean, consider these words from St. Augustine that are just as relevant today as they were when he wrote them 1600 years ago:

Usually, even a non-Christian knows something about the earth, the heavens, and other elements of this world, about the motion and orbit of the stars an even their size . . . , and this knowledge he holds to as being certain from reason and experience.  Now it is a disgraceful and dangerous thing for an infidel to hear a Christian, presumably giving the meaning of the Holy Scripture, talking nonsense on these topics; and we should take all means to prevent such an embarrassing situation, in which people show up vast ignorance in a Christian and laugh it to scorn . . . .  If they find a Christian mistaken in a field which they themselves know well and hear him maintaining his foolish opinions about our books, how are they going to believe those books in matters concerning the resurrection of the dead, the hope of eternal life, and the kingdom of heaven . . . ?”[2]

Augustine’s concern here is that fellow Christians in his day were reflecting poorly on Christ by announcing false and uninformed views about various issues—issues that today we would call scientific.  By publicly sharing their ignorance, these Christians undermined any credibility they might have had in proclaiming the Gospel.  For if a person is easily duped about geology and astronomy, then they are just as vulnerable and untrustworthy when it comes to theology.

By giving you a substantive exposure to all of the disciplines, a liberal arts education prevents this sort of thing.  You will be less likely to ignorantly pontificate about a subject because, well, you won’t be ignorant about it.  So liberal arts training helps you to avoid associating the Gospel with ignorance and thus tarnishing the name of Christ.  That’s a big deal.  But now let me expand on this a bit more positively.

Reason #3:  Studying the liberal arts makes you a better ambassador for Christ.  By becoming broadly knowledgeable, you make yourself a more interesting and circumspect person, and thereby you become a more compelling witness for Jesus.  There are a lot of evangelistic “methods” and programs out there, and all of them attempt a shortcut past the best and most biblical way of drawing others to Christ.

The apostle Peter sums it up like this: “Live such good lives among the pagans that, though they accuse you of doing wrong, they may see your good deeds and glorify God on the day he visits us” (1 Pet. 2:12).  A Christian liberal arts education doesn’t just equip you for this or that vocation or set of tasks.  Rather, it turns you into a certain kind of person—a person who is a good thinker, imaginative, and intellectually versatile; you will become a person who has more interests and is therefore more interesting.  In short, you will become a person such that people will want to know what your ultimate life commitments are.  And no evangelistic method or program can match the power of that.


[1] Alain de Botton, The Architecture of Happiness (Vintage, 2008), 149.

[2] St. Augustine, The Literal Meaning of Genesis, 2 Vols., Ancient Christian Writers, nos. 41-42, trans. John Hammond Taylor (New York: Newman Press, 1982), 1:42-43.

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Three Gospel-Centered Children’s Books

I am one of those incredibly annoying people who can’t stop themselves from analyzing things even when the “thing” in question isn’t really meant to withstand anything beyond a superficial examination. Books, movies, and casual comments made in passing by my unsuspecting husband all fall prey to my compulsion to contemplate. It doesn’t even matter if the material in question is meant for a much younger audience. Having spent endless hours reading and watching children’s literature and films, I have also spent hours being annoyed by inconsistencies and fallacies of reason. I once almost ruined a perfectly good dinner party arguing over whether or not Dora the Explorer’s attitude towards Swiper the Fox taught children the importance of grace or taught them to tolerate the sins of others whether they repented or not.

Sometimes, however, one stumbles upon the truth repackaged for children in a way that highlights the power of that truth. I would like to share three examples of this that I have discovered in reading with my own kids. I am sure there are countless others. Maybe you will enjoy reading these to the little people in your life or maybe you will find pleasure in being reminded of the simple truths of the Gospel.

The Jesus Storybook Bible: Every Story Whispers His Name by Sally Lloyd-Jones—I have to confess that this “Bible” often frustrates me and I find myself frequently interrupting the story in order to clarify a point or express my opposing view. I also grit my teeth through the emotions the author imposes on God. I am sure our sin does make Him literally “sad” or “heartbroken” but this language can diminish the holiness of God in a way I find unsettling. Having said this, there is something to reading the Gospel through the eyes of a child that brings greater clarity to the startling, marvelous nature of the Good News. I also love the way Lloyd-Jones teaches children that Jesus is the thread that binds the entirety of the Bible together.

The Tale of the Three Trees by Angela Elwell Hunt—I can never get through this one without choking back tears. It kind of freaks the kids out and they pretend not to notice but I can’t help myself. This book communicates so powerfully the idea of God’s working in unexpected ways, both in the big picture, salvation of the world kind of ways as well as the small picture, plans for our individual lives kind of ways. I never thought I would feel such empathy for trees, but I know what it is like to dream and plan only to find yourself in a very different place only to realize that the different place is where you were meant to be all along. Beautifully illustrated, beautifully told.

The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein—This is one of the few books I remember from my childhood and it impacts and convicts me as much today as it did then. Not sure what it says about me that it is yet another book featuring a tree as the main character, but anyone who works with children knows Shel Silverstein could make a book about pond scum interesting. A great illustration of the downward spiral of materialism and selfishness, I appreciate Silverstein’s light touch. I know it is sacrilege to criticize Dr. Seuss, but there are times when he is a bit heavy-handed for my taste. Silverstein never loses sight of the fact that he is telling a story. It may have a moral; it may teach a lesson. But it is first and foremost a tale to transport, and he tells it masterfully.

As summer is winding down and we put away our summer reading of mystery novels and chick lit, take a few minutes to read one or two of these gospel-centered tales. Plop a kid in your lap if you fear being discovered reading children’s books alone. Just be sure to have the tissues handy.

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Is God a Moral Monster?—A Book Review

Anyone familiar with the writings of the new atheists is aware of their penchant for taking potshots at Old Testament ethics.  Their moral objections target such things as:  (1) God’s desire to be worshipped, (2) God’s preferential treatment of the Israelites, (3) the Old Testament’s apparently low view of women, (4) the Old Testament’s approval of slavery, (5) the divinely ordered massacre of Canaanite people groups, and (6) the Old Testament’s peculiar laws related to food, hygiene, and other matters.

Richard Dawkins infamously sums up these complaints and more in The God Delusion when he calls God “a petty, unjust, unforgiving control freak; a vindictive, bloodthirsty ethnic cleanser; a misogynistic, homophobic, racist, infanticidal, genocidal, filicidal, pestilential, megalomaniacal, sado-masochistic, capriciously malevolent bully.”

So where and how to begin responding to these raving claims?  One good place to begin is Paul Copan’s new book, Is God a Moral Monster?: Making Sense of the Old Testament God.  Copan systematically addresses each of the above objections and more.  He not only presents helpful rejoinders to the new atheists’ objections but also provides an astute analysis of Old Testament ethics that demonstrates a proper sensitivity to (1) the historical-geographical context of the ancient Near East, (2) numerous complex and perplexing hermeneutical issues that arise in Old Testament studies, and (3) the moral, social, and cultural presuppositions that contemporary readers invariably bring to their reading of the Old Testament.

In sum, what Copan offers is an informed, patient, and crucially nuanced treatment of the Old Testament moral code.  Of course, as Copan rightly notes, the new atheists are not interested in nuance, so his responses to their objections are unlikely to change their minds or, for that matter, soften their inflammatory rhetoric.  For those who are willing to approach the text sympathetically, Copan’s treatment of these thorny issues is richly rewarding.

Here is a brief summary of some issues Copan addresses and how he responds to each:

  • Arbitrary Dietary Laws:  The Israelites were only permitted to eat split-hooved and cud-chewing animals.  And they could only eat fish with fins and scales.  Isn’t this irrationally arbitrary and just plain kooky?  Copan proposes that the point of these requirements was their symbolism.  Organisms that meet these criteria do not cross spheres or living boundaries.  That is, they live entirely on land or in the water.  Thus, the dietary criteria symbolized purity for the Israelites.  And “unclean animals symbolized what Israel was to avoid—mixing in with the unclean beliefs and practices of the surrounding nations.  Israel was to be like the clean animals—distinct, in their own category, and not having mixed features” (81).
  • Polygamy:  The Old Testament was apparently misogynistic.  After all, doesn’t it endorse polygamy?  Copan notes, however, that the fact that many O.T. patriarchs had multiple wives does not imply that this was a morally acceptable practice.  “Is” does not imply “ought.”  (This is just one instance of many where this principle applies to Old Testament ethical issues.)  Also, Copan shows how passages that have been interpreted as showing divine approval of polygamy (Exod. 21:7-11; Deut. 21:15-17; 2 Sam. 12:8) actually do no such thing.
  • Slavery:  Ancient Israel’s moral code permitted slavery.  This is morally repugnant and a sure sign that the God of the Old Testament was indeed a “moral monster,” right?  Not so fast.  First, Copan notes that the Old Testament “servant” (ebed) should not be equated with “slave” as we understand the term (vis-à-vis Amercian slavery).  In ancient Israel, such servanthood “was a voluntary (poverty-induced) arrangement not forced” (126).  Secondly, the Old Testament standard for servanthood constituted an enormous moral advance on other ancient Near East practices where slaves were considered property and were stripped of their familial and social identities.  O.T. servants were considered persons, not property.  And, thirdly, the Old Testament servant laws were actually devised to protect the poor.   “Israelite servitude was induced by poverty, was entered into voluntarily, and was far from optimal.  The intent of these laws was to combat potential abuses, not to institutionalize servitude” (127).
  • Killing the Canaanites:  In several O.T. passages, God commands the Israelites to completely destroy several Canaanite people groups, including the Hittites, Amorites, Perizzites, Hivites, and Jebusites.  This appears to be blatant genocide.  Copan makes many interesting points in response to this accusation, most importantly that this was not genocide or “ethnic cleansing” because God’s command was not was not based on ethnicity but sin (162).  In fact, Canaanites who repented were spared and welcomed into the Israelite community.  Secondly, we tend to overlook just how severe the Canaanite debauchery was, as they were steeped in extreme idolatry and sexual perversion.  Thirdly, as Copan puts it, “the conquest of Canaan was far less widespread and harsh than many people assume” (170).  The O.T. phrase translated “utterly destroy” does not imply that literally everyone is killed, but need only suggest a good trouncing of the enemy.   And, fourthly, the main concern was to eliminate the Canaanite sins and the deadly religious practices that inspired them rather than the Canaanite people themselves.

Copan offers a variety of observations intended to either diminish or eliminate our moral qualms with God’s commands and moral regulations in the Old Testament.  Depending on the reader, these will be more or less convincing.  But however helpful or persuasive his points are, we need to keep in mind the biblical observation that God’s ways are not our ways (Isa. 55:8).  In particular, as Copan wisely notes, “We live in a time when we’re very alert to racial discrimination and intolerance, but we aren’t as sensitized to sexual sin as past generations were.  We live in a time that sees death as the ultimate evil.  Perhaps we need to be more open to the fact that some of our moral intuitions aren’t as finely tuned as they ought to be.  The same may apply to our thoughts about what God should or shouldn’t have done in Canaan” (192).

One of Copan’s emphases in the book is that we should not resist the new atheists’ accusation that the Old Testament ethical standards were imperfect:  “Instead of glossing over some of the inferior moral attitudes and practices we encounter in the Old Testament, we should freely acknowledge them.  We can point out that they fall short of the ideals of Genesis 1-2 and affirm with our critics that we don’t have to advocate such practices for all societies” (62).  This cannot be stressed enough.

What we find in many of the Old Testament laws and regulations are either temporary concessions to human sin (e.g., regulations regarding divorce, slavery, and polygamy) or God’s punitive response to human sin (i.e., God’s commands to destroy certain Canaanite people groups).  The new atheists consistently ignore or refuse to adequately appreciate this context of God’s response to human fallenness.  Scripture’s moral “ideal” when it comes to all human relations, as Copan notes, is found in Genesis 1:26-27, which affirms humans as divine image-bearers who should work together in harmony.  It is also evident later in the New Testament, such as in some of the teachings of Jesus.  To represent the Old Testament moral code in isolation of this is a gross distortion of Scripture and a complete Christian ethic.

My criticisms of the book are minor.  First, Copan occasionally refers to God as “other-centered” (e.g., pp. 27 and 201), presumably to combat some new atheists’ claims that God is ego-centric or, in Dawkins’ terms, “megalomaniacal.”  While God is surely extremely other-concerned, even self-sacrificially, he is not other-centered.  This would be inappropriate, since God deserves everyone’s primary respect and concern, including his own.  (For a brilliant and inspiring exposition of this point, see Jonathan Edwards’ essay “The End for Which God Created the World.”)

My second quibble is less significant and essentially a matter of emphasis.  There were a few places in the book where I thought Copan would have done well to concede the difficulty of some of the problematic O.T. passages.  He does make this general point at times, as when he says, “For anyone who takes the Bible seriously, [the] Yahweh-war texts will certainly prove troubling” (188).  But I was disappointed that Copan did not concede his (or anyone’s) inability to completely resolve the moral problems presented by a few other passages.

Again, these are really minor complaints, especially when you consider the breadth and depth of the discussion in Is God a Moral Monster?  Because the book deals with so many controversial and sensitive subjects, I suppose that readers should expect to take issue with some of Copan’s analyses.  (I was surprised that I agreed with nearly all of them.)  But whether or not readers agree with Copan’s approach to each particular problem passage, his book is sure to educate and edify.  Is God a Moral Monster? is an immensely valuable resource for anyone interested in Old Testament ethics or for those who seek informed responses to the new atheists’ objections concerning the topic.  Copan is to be commended for this superb work.

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