Faith, Film, and Philosophy

The other day I received some good news from one of my publishers, InterVarsity Press.  The book I co-edited with Doug Geivett last year, Faith, Film, and Philosophy, is going into a second printing.  This is gratifying because it means the book is selling at a decent clip.  The responses of our readers are more important than sales, of course, but it’s always nice to know that your book is not wasting your publisher’s efforts and expenses.  The folks at IVP, especially Andy LePeau and Gary Deddo, believed in this project from the outset, and Doug and I are indebted to them for getting behind our vision for the book.  It feels good to see that support rewarded.

In case you’re not familiar with Faith, Film, and Philosophy, the book features essays by fourteen philosophers (including Doug and myself), each which discusses a film (or two or more) from a Christian perspective.  The films discussed include dramas, comedies, documentaries, and horror films—classic and contemporary, domestic and foreign.  And the philosophical issues explored range across many of the major areas of philosophy, such as epistemology, philosophy of mind, ethics, and philosophy of religion.  Contributors include James Sennett (on Citizen Kane), David Hunt (on The Matrix), Ron Tacelli (on horror films), Win Corduan (on Hong Kong films), and Dallas Willard (on American Beauty, Cider House Rules, and Pleasantville).

Doug has put together a website featuring more information about the book and other content related to film and philosophy:  http://www.faith-film-philosophy.com/.  When I complete work on my current project—a Philosophy introductory text—I’ll have more time to contribute content to that website, such as film reviews.  But Doug already has some interesting stuff posted.  I recommend checking out Doug’s blog as well.

Spiegel’s Pick for Band of the Year

I recall reading a review of the Smiths’ 1986 album The Queen is Dead in which the writer gushed about the lyrical genius of their front man—a very young Steven Patrick Morrissey. The reviewer’s closing line stuck with me, because it rang true and because it struck me as a particularly bold prediction. “This guy,” he said regarding Morrissey, “is going to be around for a long time.” Well, over two decades later, Morrissey is still churning out great records and has proven to be one of rock music’s finest songsmiths. It all seems so obvious now, but how could that reviewer have been so sure?

Recently, I’ve come to a similar conclusion regarding the frontman of another band, coincidentally upon the release of their third studio album (as TQID was for the Smiths). The band is the Killers, and the frontman and main lyricist is Brandon Flowers. It wasn’t until last year that I purchased my first Killers album—their debut, Hot Fuss, by which I was pleasantly surprised, especially by the quality of songwriting. It didn’t take long for me to recognize that “Mr. Brightside” and “All These Things That I’ve Done” were instant classics and that there was an artistic vision here that transcended the band’s pop icon status. (Remember, folks, even the Beatles were very popular AND—eventually—avant-garde artists. And no, I don’t mean to put the Killers on the same level as the immortal Liverpudlians.)

Next, I picked up Sam’s Town, the Killers’ tepidly received sophomore effort, which is as underrated an album as I know of—though it certainly has its flaws (mainly the ill-advised “Enterlude” and “Exitlude,” the cheerful moods of which clash with the somber themes on the rest of the album). Sam’s Town, too, has its gems, including “Read My Mind” and the title track. But most significantly this album demonstrated the band’s willingness to explore and evolve, musically as well as lyrically. Certain thematic patterns also began to emerge, most notably Flowers’ disillusionment with fame and his sense of mortality—which is particularly acute for a guy in his mid-twenties.

With their latest release, Day and Age, the Killers have hit their stride, both in terms of matching musical form to lyrical content (the album has a strong dance vibe, owing to the production of Stuart Price) and in terms of songwriting subtlety. There are more instant classics: “Human,” “Neon Tiger,” and “Spaceman.” The latter of these is an especially brilliant piece of songwriting, as Flowers deftly uses an alien abduction as a metaphor for the corrosive effects of fame. And the ambiguous “Neon Tiger” might refer to the band themselves as they wrestle with the temptations of their own celebrity:

Far from the evergreen of old Assam
Far from the rainfall on the trails of old Saigon
straight from the poster town of scorn and ritz
To bring you the wilder side of gold and glitz

But neon tiger there’s a lot on your mind
They promised just to pet you, but don’t you let them get you
Away, away, away
Under the heat of the southwest sun

This sounds like a self-exhortation—from and for a band that hails from the “town of scorn and ritz”—Las Vegas. Ironically, in spite of the superficiality of their hometown, this is a band that does have “a lot on [their] mind.” Will they eventually succumb to the cruel vortex of fame and the relentless demons of celebrity? Time will tell. But for now, Brandon Flowers seems resolute in his will to resist, all the while growing as a songsmith. At this rate, it would appear, this guy is going to be around for a long time.

It Just Isn’t Fair

“It just isn’t fair.”  How often we hear those words, or utter them ourselves, and in so many contexts, ranging from NCAA football rankings to the problem of evil.  When our sense of justice is offended, we sometimes express our indignation with these four simple words.  Justice is defined generally as giving to each its due.  And when we complain about the injustice of a situation, it is because we believe that someone has not received what they deserve. When a good deed goes unrewarded, when a person’s integrity is overlooked, or when a crime goes unpunished, it just isn’t fair.

Well, lately I’ve found myself using this phrase—if only in my mind—in a different way, to express my incredulity at how blessed I am.  It isn’t fair that I should have a wonderful family, a decent house, a satisfying job, good health, fine friends, etc.  As I count my blessings, it’s really overwhelming that a flawed mortal like me should be lavished with such gifts.  But, of course, the injustice is more profound than this.  Given original sin—that natural state of rebellion into which we all are born—it isn’t fair that God should even allow us to take a single breath on this planet, much less to enjoy ourselves and have fulfilling relationships.  If God were to give us all what we deserve, well, we’d all have been vaporized early on.  But, thankfully, “he does not treat us as our sins deserve or repay us according to our iniquities” (Psalm 103:10).

If it is unjust when someone is not given their due, then the Christian gospel is founded on a sort of injustice.  That God would condescend to redeem fallen humanity, to take our sin upon himself, and to rescue us from our rebellion is unfair to the extreme.  We call this injustice “grace”-a profoundly unmerited favor.  But it is precisely because we benefit from this injustice that rarely, if ever, do we think to declare it is unfair.  Just as we call a “good deal” a purchase in which we receive more than our money’s worth, we are likely to categorize the Gospel similarly.  When Jesus atoned for our sins, we got a “good deal,” right?  Yes, in the sense that we benefit in unfathomable ways.  But the truth is that it isn’t fair.  In fact, it is unfathomably unfair that the almighty, holy God would humble himself by taking on human form and then suffer a criminal’s death for the sake of those whose sin begat such evil in the first place.

Of course, there is justice in the atonement in the sense that—through our mystical union with Christ—the crucifixion and death of Jesus satisfied God’s wrath.  But the mindblower is that God would take this step to begin with, that he would subject his only begotten Son to such unspeakable torture for our sake.  Amazing grace, indeed.  And it’s more to be thankful for than we can possibly comprehend, even if, strictly speaking, it just isn’t fair.

My Time at the ETS Conference

Its been a good couple of days at the annual Evangelical Theological Society conference here in Providence, Rhode Island.  This morning I presented my paper on the problem of evil—specifically, comparing the free will and soul-making theodicies—and it was received well by the 50-60 folks in attendance, several of whom asked some interesting and helpful questions about my thesis, which is that the two theodicies are properly seen as complimentary (because logically interdependent) approaches to the problem.  I have posted my paper on a separate page on this blog, which you will find on the right side bar.  I’d welcome any comments, pro or con, as I’ll be submitting it for publication soon.

In addition to attending many informative and stimulating (as well as a few ponderous and soporific) paper presentations on assorted issues, from apologetics to gender issues to the hiddenness of God, I’ve been perusing endless book exhibits, chatting on subjects profound and frivolous, getting lost in the labyrinthine convention center halls, and eating far too much food—including fresh, melt-in-your-mouth Atlantic salmon on two occasions.  (Amy’s going to be sick with envy when she reads this.  Sorry, honey!)  Yes, our brand of vegetarian diet—“ovo-pecto-lacto vegetarianism,” to be tiresomely precise—does allow for fish (that’s the “pecto” part).  It also allows for chocolate mousse, by the way.  And I’m paying for it now with some late-night indigestion (belch).  Oh, but it felt so good going down…

Goodnight.

Two Approaches to the Problem of Evil

One of the most challenging issues in the philosophy of religion is the problem of evil.  Put simply, the problem concerns the difficulty of reconciling the reality of evil—from immoral behaviors to diseases and natural disasters—with the existence of an all-powerful and perfectly good God.  If God is almighty, then he can prevent evil, and if God is morally perfect, then presumably he would wantto prevent it.  Yet evil exists—in massive doses, in fact.  On its face, then, the problem amounts to evidence against theism, at least as traditionally construed.  One way out would be to deny God is omnipotent, as Harold Kushner essentially does in his book When Bad Things Happen to Good People.  Another route would be to surrender belief in God’s goodness.  But these approaches contradict the biblical portrait of God.  So, it seems, the theist is in a fix.

Since the ancient philosopher Epicurus first posed the evidential problem of evil, theists have proposed many ways of eluding its logic by contriving “theodicies”—explanations as to why God would permit sin and suffering in this world.  Two of the most well-worn among these are the “free will theodicy” and the “soul-making theodicy.”  Both of these aim to deny the premise that God would not want to allow evil.  Each explains God’s permission of evil in terms of some greater goods that God wanted to achieve in this world. 

According to the free will theodicy the greater goods God desired were the various goods that depend upon human freedom, such as genuine relationships and moral qualities.  But, of course, we have misused our freedom and, well, now things are a mess.  But the risk, so to speak, was worth it, or so say defenders of the free will theodicy.  According to the soul-making theodicy, the greater goods God aims to achieve by permitting evil is higher or “second-order” virtues which can only be displayed in response to evil.  For example, forgiveness requires sin to forgive, perseverance demands difficulty to overcome, and so on.  Such traits as forgiveness, perseverance, patience, compassion, mercy, etc. are good and beautiful virtues, and well worth the price of evil to achieve.  Or so say proponents of the soul-making theodicy.

I think both of these theodicies are helpful in dealing with the problem of evil.  But is either one preferable to or more helpful than the other?  This question has been occupying my mind a bit lately, as I will be giving a presentation on it at next week’s national meeting of the Evangelical Philosophical Society in Providence, Rhode Island, which will be held at the Rhode Island Convention Center.  (Once it is finished, I plan to post my paper on this blog.)  If you’ll be in the New England area from November 18-21, you might want to consider checking out this conference and hearing presentations by some leading lights in the world of Christian philosophy and theology.  It’s not too late to register.  And I also invite you to consider joining the EPS or its sister organization, the Evangelical Theological Society.  In each case, membership is inexpensive and includes a subscription to the society’s journal (Philosophia Christi or the Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society).

A Strange Satisfaction

Congratulations to all you Obama supporters out there!  Your man is going to the White House.

Prior to the election I expected that I would have been thoroughly disappointed by this result.  But, strangely, I am not.  I strongly disagree with most of Obama’s policy positions—from his extreme pro-choice stance to his position on (re-)distributive justice—and am deeply concerned about his moral judgment, but as I watched Obama’s victory speech late Tuesday night I was surprised by what welled up inside of me—a peculiar feeling of satisfaction.  What?!  Yes, I was almost euphoric as I watched Obama and his family walk out on that stage in all of their meticulously choreographed political glory.  The historico-social significance of the moment suddenly fell on me in a way I hadn’t anticipated and—at least for those few minutes—I was glad he won.  But how can this be, when the thought of the implementation of his ideas makes me shudder?

Flashback 33 years…  When I was twelve-years-old my family moved from Detroit, Michigan to Jackson, Mississippi, where I began attending a private middle school.  At this school I got my first dose of hard-core Southern racism-unmitigated hatred of black Americans, complete with brutal jokes and frequent use of the N-word, not just by students but teachers as well.  This terrified me, since, well, I didn’t hate black people, and kids who became known as “N-lovers” faced certain persecution.  I couldn’t understand how people could hate other people just because of their skin color.  My mother had always warned me never to have such an attitude, and she even scolded me when one day I accidentally mispronounced the name of the African country “Niger.”

One day in my eighth-grade civics class my teacher, Mr. Knox, went on a rant about how “our country would be better if we sent all them n——–ers back to Africa.”  Something in my head clicked.  Even at thirteen I knew this was evil, and I silently resolved to try to be a friend, not a foe, to black folks.  And as the years passed I found myself doing this almost by reflex.  Later that year I went out of my way to befriend a black kid in my neighborhood, and two years later I got my first job at a Popeyes Fried Chicken restaurant in the middle of a black neighborhood, where a friend of mine and I were the only white employees.  We loved it and even enjoyed how our fellow workers referred to us as “Pixie” and “Dixie.”  I suppose this was our meager way of raging against the Southern white racist machine.  Not a big deal, really, but for us as young teenagers in that culture, it sure felt like a big deal. 

Years later, after my conversion, I found that I sometimes had to rebuke fellow Christians for their occasional racist comments.  Even during my college years in the mid-80s this was not uncommon.  And the typical response to my challenge was a condescending roll of the eyes or a verbal dismissal—“Oh come on, Spiegel.  Lighten up.”  This was exasperating, but by now I had the resources—biblically and philosophically, to challenge their foolishness.  Still, they didn’t listen.  (By the way, I don’t mean to suggest that all white Mississippians/Southerners were hard-core racists in those days.  But racism certainly was, and perhaps still is, more rampant in the South than in other areas of the country.)

Fast forward two decades, and there I am watching a black man give a victory speech, having just been elected President of the United States.  Suddenly I felt the same way those people in the crowd looked—euphoric and satisfied.  I heard a voice deep inside me say “Take that, Mr. Knox!” and “Take that, old college buddies!” I felt vindicated somehow.  But most of all I was happy for our country, that we had reached this milestone in our racial and ethnic struggle.  It’s not the end of that struggle of course, but it’s a hugely significant step.  And I can’t help but feel good about that aspect of Obama’s election.

Of course, the Obama presidency will be about much more than racial healing, and even in that domain it is far from a cure-all.  There are enormous challenges facing the next administration, and it will be interesting to see how much success, if any, Obama can have in dealing with the problems they will inherit, particularly since he will enjoy strong Democrat majorities in both the House and the Senate.  For people like me who sharply disagree with Obama’s policies—we can at least give the man a chance.  And we can find some solace in the fact that our nation has taken a big step forward in its struggle with racism.

Why I Can’t Vote for Obama OR McCain

We are now just five days from Election Day, and most Americans have decided on the presidential candidate for whom they will cast their vote next Tuesday.  I have decided who will get my vote, but it will be neither Barack Obama nor John McCain.  And the reason in both cases boils down to personal integrity.  For all of their considerable talents and leadership skills, the moral character of both of these men is too flawed to justify my support.

In the case of Obama his character flaws are apparent in his questionable associations, the most astonishing of which is his long-time pastor, Jeremiah Wright.  Wright is not just a liberation theologian.  He is a radical anti-American racist, whose rhetoric is more venomous than anything I’ve seen in public life.  Yet Obama sat under his preaching for twenty years?  Unbelievable.  Another disturbing association of Obama’s is Bill Ayers, the domestic terrorist with whom Obama served on a Chicago education board. Obama’s claim that he didn’t know about Ayers’ terrorist past at the time is implausible.  Finally, there is Obama’s utter insensitivity to sanctity of life issues.  Set aside his unyielding pro-choice position and his breathtaking assertion that determining when human life begins is “above my pay grade.”  (Come on, Barack.  As difficult as that might be, you must have some belief regarding the matter.  And surely anyreasonable person must admit that a pre-born child is human at least by the point of viability.)  The most astounding thing is Obama’s refusal (four times) to support the Born Alive Infant Protection Act, which simply mandated that babies which survive abortions should receive medical attention to keep them alive.  Intentionally allowing a baby to die is, of course, infanticide.  And Obama’s refusal to support legislation to prevent such is complicity with this heinous act.  To say that this reveals a character flaw on his part is, well, an understatement.

As far as McCain is concerned, I do appreciate the man’s honorable service as a soldier, especially his heroic commitment to his fellow servicemen while a P.O.W. during the Vietnam War.  I also appreciate McCain’s respect for the sanctity of life and his take on several other issues.  But he, too, has a seriously chequered past.  McCain was unfaithful to his first wife, leaving her for his current wife, Cindy, even while his first wife was recovering from a serious automobile accident.  Yes, this was nearly thirty years ago, but there have been whiffs of questionable behavior since, such as regarding McCain’s inappropriate relationship with lobbyist Vicki Iseman.  Adultery is no small matter, as it demonstrates a person’s willingness to flout the most sacred vow two human beings can make.  If a man is willing to break that vow, then why should we trust him when it comes to his commitment to the American people?  And if the Clinton years taught us anything, it is that the so-called “private life” of a President is never just that.  So I cannot cast a vote for McCain.  (In fact, I have a personal rule never to vote for a known adulterer.)

But I do plan to vote in the presidential election.  So for whom shall I cast my ballot?  At this point I plan to write in the name of someone who is consummately qualified and has impeccable character:  Condoleeza Rice.  I will refrain from extolling her virtues here, otherwise this post might never end!  Suffice it to say that she has the moral integrity that I wish either Obama or McCain had.  Oy vey.

A Series of Deaths

I have a good friend who likes to say that “life is a series of deaths.”  In saying this, he is referring to the fact that our journey on this planet involves many farewells and demands of self-denial—and each of these represents some kind of permanent loss.  As you grow your childhood perishes.  With each graduation during your school years you say goodbye to friends, many of whom you will never seen again.  And the ones with whom you do stay in touch you will never know in that context again.  When you marry, much of your freedom dies, and with the birth of each child you must lay aside worthwhile projects and even some dreams.  And then come the real deaths.  You lose friends to accidents, cancers, and even suicide.  Your parents begin to fail and suddenly you find yourself having to parent them in return, perhaps nursing them into that good night—always half believing its not really happening.  It’s just one death after another.

Sounds pretty bleak, doesn’t it?  Well, it would be if that were the whole story.  And I suppose that if I thought it was, perhaps I’d have gone the way of some of my departed friends by now.  But it’s not the whole story.  Because with each of those deaths has come new life.  God has a way of replacing lost projects and dreams with even greater projects and dreams.  Far beyond the meager imaginings of my youth and even my young adulthood is the joy and satisfaction I’ve found in my wife and children as well as the broader community of which we are a part.  What calling is higher than investing your life in other souls?  Even the pains we feel in this context are, as C.S. Lewis would say, “more precious than all other gains.”

Of course, there are goodbyes ahead for all of these relationships as well.  More deaths to come in a seemingly endless train.  But it’s not really endless.  One day, we are told, all death will cease and God will wipe away every tear.  And, if Scripture is to be trusted, there are good things which emerge from our earthly trials—good things which are endless, such as the virtues we develop in persevering (cf. James 1:2-4; 1 Pet. 1:5-7).  God does not put us through this soul-grind without reason.  He does so to mold us into something wonderful, even the image of Christ.  And if that isn’t worth enduring a series of deaths, then nothing is.

Is Christianity the One True Religion?

My son, Bailey, has a friend named Conner who has been asking his parents some very challenging theological questions of late.  He is only eight years old, but Conner has been stumping his mom and dad just like my kids stump me from time to time.  Recently he asked, “How do we know that our religion (Christianity) is the true one and the others are wrong?”  Whoa.  That’s a toughy.  This is one of those cases where the kid’s question itself is as encouraging as it is challenging.  It’s encouraging because it shows that he is already thinking critically about worldviews.  And it’s challenging, of course, because, well, the question raises a whole nest of difficult issues.  It’s also worth noting that Conner’s question presupposes two important truths.  First, it assumes that there is such a thing as truth in religion and, secondly, it assumes that not all religions can be true.  So the question as to why we should believe Christianity is the one true religion is itself insightful.

So, then, how do we know that Christianity is true?  The short answer is that we know this through special revelation—the Bible.  Scripture tells us that Jesus Christ is the unique of Son of God, that he lived a sinless life, and that he died and rose from the dead to save humanity from their sins.  This is the essence of the gospel and the heart of Christianity.  It is also the essential doctrine of our faith which distinguishes it from all other religious faiths.  The great theistic traditions of Judaism and Islam, for all their many insights and true doctrines (e.g., that there is a personal God who created the world and communicates with us through special revelation, etc.), deny the divinity of Christ.  And pantheistic religions, such as Hinduism and New Age thought, deny that Jesus Christ is uniquely divine (since they affirm that all human beings are essentially divine). 

Christianity stands alone in affirming that Jesus is the unique God-man and savior of the world.  And this core Christian belief is based on the teachings of the New Testament.  So, then, the next question is whether the New Testament is trustworthy.  Without delving into technicalities, the evidence for the historicity (historical reliability) of the N.T. documents is overwhelming.  In fact, the manuscript attestation for the New Testament documents is incomparably greater than that for any other ancient documents.  For an informative—a surprisingly stimulating—book on this subject, I highly recommend F. F. Bruce’s classic The New Testament Documents: Are They Reliable?  And there are many other excellent resources, such as Craig Blomberg’s The Historical Reliability of the Gospels and Richard Bauckham’s Jesus and the Eyewitnesses, which confirm our confidence in the New Testament and, in turn, its central claim that Jesus Christ is uniquely divine.

So it all comes down to the identity of Jesus Christ.  Is he the God-man or a mere mortal?  This is not only the central question in the study of comparative religions but also the central question of human history.  Either Jesus is divine and Christianity is the one true religion, or he was a fraud and Christianity is a scandalous lie.  Neither of those alternatives is benign.  Both have profound implications for the meaning of life.  So kudos to Conner for posing such a foundational question.  He has gotten to the heart of the matter.  And all of us, not just his parents, need to be ready with an answer.

By the way, in my book Gum, Geckos, and God I tackle many questions like these posed by my own kids.  I’m interested in hearing other insightful and challenging theological questions posed by children (or adults, for that matter), so let me know if you have a good one to share.

Culturally Liberal and Morally Conservative

The recent discussion of gay marriage (see my October 2 post and related comments) has reminded me once again how difficult it is to be both culturally liberal and morally conservative.  It seems that today most folks fall into one of these categories but not the other.  That is, people tend to be either culturally liberal or morally conservative.  By culturally liberal I mean someone who readily recognizes and aggressively pursues truth, goodness, and beauty in culture-from politics and higher learning to art forms such as film, literature, and popular music.  By contrast, a cultural conservative would be someone who does not share this inclination but rather is suspicious of culture and human creative expressions.  A parallel distinction can be made regarding a person’s moral sensibilities.  Moral liberals are those who readily embrace shifts in ethical standards, while moral conservatives are suspicious of such change.

Perhaps it is only natural that people tend to be liberal or conservative generally rather than according to context or subject matter.  That is, our tendency to be liberal or conservative is not isolated to particular areas or issues.  It’s no coincidence that the artistic centers of our culture, from Hollywood and Broadway to art institutes and MTV, are also the most morally liberal communities.  And it’s also not coincidental that the most morally conservative communities tend to have little interest in the arts.  Similarly, the press and media, as well as the most prestigious centers of learning tend to be liberal, while people from the most morally conservative faith traditions are those who are least likely to run in these cultural circles.

Now these are very general observations, I know.  But these tendencies should be obvious enough to all of us.  I consider it to be a tragic trend, as it is the timeless moral truths which made American culture possible in the first place and which will sustain it as long as it lasts.  While it is appropriate to question or reject artistic norms and institutional conventions, moral verities such as the sanctity of human life and sexuality cannot be rejected without devastating repercussions, both in individual lives and culture at large.

So the noble challenge, as I see it, is to vigorously explore the arts and other aspects of contemporary culture while maintaining one’s ethical moorings; to remain committed to abiding ethical principles without sacrificing the will to eagerly pursue truth, goodness, and beauty in human creations-in short, to be a cultural liberal and a moral conservative.  It’s a challenge because somehow, at least at this time in our history, it is unnatural.  And it’s a noble challenge because it is for our own good-both as individuals and as a society.