Category: Ethics

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Big Families and the Environment

By Jim Spiegel

As a father of four kids, I am sometimes asked whether my wife and I “intended” to have “so many” children.  They say, “I don’t want to be rude, but…”  Well, the answer is yes; we did intend to have so many children.  While it is very challenging, having a large family has many benefits, both for us and, especially (we hope) for our society.  We strive to raise our kids to be thoughtful, productive Christians, who will impact culture in many positive ways.  And we hope that they, in turn, will have many kids of their own who do the same.  This is the way cultures are renewed, and we aspire to be a link in that causal chain in our own culture, which so badly needs renewal.

However, I occasionally encounter people who take a very different view of the matter.  The Earth is already overpopulated, they tell me, and having children only adds further stress to the planet.  Each kid means one more massive carbon footprint, a net loss to Earth.  Thinking themselves conscientious environmentalists, they suggest that the path my wife and I have chosen is actually irresponsible.  While these conversations rarely turn into debates, I am prepared to show my skeptical friends the flaws in their thinking.

First of all, such thinking assumes that our kids will be environmentally irresponsible, which we are working hard to prevent.  None of our lives need be a “net loss” to the planet.  In fact, if our kids turn out to be as environmentally responsible as we hope they will be, then we can expect net gains because of them.  For one thing, we practice a form of vegetarianism which has tremendous environmental benefits.  In terms of reducing greenhouse gases, abstaining from meat is one of the most significant contributions that one can make.  And we expect that our kids will likely continue this family practice into adulthood, perhaps teaching their own progeny to do the same.  On top of this, there is the potential that one of our kids will become an environmental scientist and make a profound contribution to the field.  The reasoning of my skeptical friends rules this possibility out of hand a priori.

This brings up another point which is rather exasperating.  None of the no-kids-because-of-the-environment folks I know are vegetarians.  They are so concerned about the planet that they refuse to procreate, but they refuse to do this very beneficial thing for the environment: abstain from meat.  For a while this puzzled me, but then it hit me.  The refusal to have kids and indulgence in meat have something in common-both choices are easy and convenient.  Raising kids and maintaining a vegetarian diet, on the other hand, are difficult and inconvenient.

Finally, and most disappointing from the standpoint of moral reasoning, the no-kids environmentalists are (or tend to be) guilty of one-track thinking when it comes to family planning.  By making environmental concerns the single overriding factor in their choice not to have children, they make this a moral trump card.  But even if environmental concerns did support the small family approach, why should we ignore the many other considerations which support the opposite perspective?  What about the countless ways that well-trained children can benefit society when they become adults (or even while they are still young)?  When there are so many other significant factors to take into account when doing family planning, a purely environmental approach seems narrow-minded and, well, irresponsible.  In fact, it makes me suspect that something other than environmental issues are at play here.  But, of course, this is not something I would ever say to the no-kids environmentalists.  I wouldn’t want to be rude.

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I’ve Got Friends in Low Places

By Amy Spiegel

In our kitchen we have a large set of windows overlooking our quiet (when the motorcycles aren’t in season) tree-lined street. I spend a great deal of the day standing, looking out these windows, as I make the kids’ lunches, fix dinner, and do a hundred other small daily tasks. It’s strange that such a beautiful view, at least in the summer, causes me such vexation. You see, two of my good friends (and their swarm of kids with whom my swarm of kids greatly enjoy playing) live almost directly across from these windows and right next to each other. Between us is a church parking lot that functions as a demilitarized zone for the swarm and their roller blades, bikes and tricycles. It is rare that a day passes without me watching one of the kids dash across the street to see if someone can play.

What a blessing, right? Funny how human beings have a talent for taking every blessing and twisting it into a curse. Because while I often smile as I watch my kid’s mad dash toward friendship, there are other times, more often that I care to admit, that I stand on tiptoe to make sure I’m not being left out of anything fun. A recent phone conversation with a friend proved the absolute absurdity of my paranoia. The conversation began innocently enough, as we were discussing carpooling for school. Yet despite the relative unimportance of the topic, I could tell both of us were tense and a bit defensive. You see, carpooling is a very political subject, demanding a great deal of diplomacy and tact, a bit like joining NATO. You are either in and therefore recognized as a “player,” one of the inner circle and worthy of being entrusted with someone else’s offspring, or you are out and left to fend for yourself among the lesser alliances with lesser known acronyms like the IBSA Dialogue Forum or the International Black Sea Club. Finally, I confessed to feeling a bit like a middle schooler and admitted that I was afraid of presuming too much and being left out of the loop in my friend’s plans. She quickly affirmed my value as a friend, and I suddenly felt like I had someone to sit beside me at lunch for the rest of my life. (What is a more likely place for humiliation than a large room full of adolescences balancing trays of food and desperately trying not to look desperate?)

What followed was an honest and refreshing tête-à-tête about how often we feel isolated and excluded from the social circles revolving around us in a seemingly endless chain of play dates and sleepovers. The irony was that I felt this way about this very friend. As she expressed her longing for true community and a sense of belonging, I heard my own voice (only I normally just talk to myself or Jim, if he is unlucky enough to answer his office phone at the wrong time). The more I listened, the more I felt something click in my head about my own views on community. I realized that however I try to disguise it by dressing it up in language about the “body of Christ,” what I really mean when I talk about community is a place where I feel completely comfortable. Though I talk about wanting to serve others and support and encourage them, what I am really looking for is others who will serve and support me. And if they think I am fun, like my cooking, and greatly admire my parenting skills, that’s great too. I am not looking for community; I am looking for an entourage. And as I sat there looking out my windows, my mind came to rest on Jesus. What an entourage He had! The disciples were not exactly prestige friends, and I feel quite certain they weren’t in the elite carpool. Christ had something to offer them, not the other way around. He chose friends who needed friends.

I suddenly saw the vicious cycle I was in.  Thinking only of myself just magnified each perceived slight, which made me think about myself more, and so on. The irony is that when I die to self and let go of my firm grim on self-interest, it is in that moment I find peace. When I am only looking out for myself, I am all I see. (This experience is a bit like looking too closely at one’s reflection in the glare of the dressing room mirror. Absolutely no good can come of it.) I have been standing at the window looking out for myself when all the while I should have been looking out for opportunities to serve. The contentment that I feel in the presence of others does not come from thinking about myself. It’s when I look to the needs of others that I cure my loneliness. The isolation Jesus experienced every day of His life on earth and especially on the cross wasn’t cured by gathering to Himself the best and the brightest. It was through His ultimate sacrifice for our sake that He restored fellowship with His Father, for Himself as well as for ourselves. The community of heaven awaits me if I am willing to lay down my life. God placed me in front of a window looking out, not in front of a mirror looking in.

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A Mind is a Terrible Thing to Close

By Jim Spiegel

Recently I was chatting with someone about nutrition and I noted how factory farmed meats pose health hazards. He was skeptical and asked, “Is there any scientific evidence for that?” I replied that there are many studies which confirm this and told him that I was willing to direct him to some of these publications. But my friend smiled and shook his head, saying “You can’t trust scientific studies. You can use them to prove just about anything.” I was dumbfounded. First he demands scientific evidence for my claim, but when I oblige he tells me that he can’t accept it because science can’t be trusted! At this point I realized that I was dealing with a closed mind, so we went on to discuss other things.

I once heard someone say that aging academicians often suffer from “hardening of the categories.” After graduate school, they become locked in their theoretical paradigms and are less and less likely to explore new ideas and engage new perspectives in an open-minded way. I would say this is a universal human tendency, not just a pitfall for scholars. But it certainly is more disturbing to observe this in people who are supposed to be serious about the quest for knowledge and understanding.

I have had some colleagues over the years whose views on major issues—from ethics to politics to theology—changed very little since their college days. It occurred to me that for such a person the “wisdom of their years” is partly a sham, at least as this applies to their supposed exploration of ideas. They might be in their fifties and appear to be the mature product of decades of academic growth. But since they haven’t changed their views in thirty years, how can we call them models of serious inquiry? Their students might as well be listening to a peer.

Have you changed your view on some important issue in the last few years? I’m not talking about beliefs as basic as the existence of God or even whether you are a political liberal or conservative. But if you are a genuinely teachable person, committed to the quest for understanding and willing to consider fresh perspectives, then your mind should change from time to time on various issues. If this is not true of you, then perhaps you are experiencing “hardening of the categories” yourself.

It is understandable that those who are older should change their views less frequently than the young. After all, in most cases those who are older have already reviewed more ideas and are familiar with arguments on both sides of many issues. However, even experienced folks who are very well-travelled in the realm of ideas have not been exposed to every idea or argument. So if they are truly teachable and open-minded, there should be evidence of this in the form of a conversion to a different belief every once in a while, even concerning important issues. Otherwise, I can only conclude that they are not really open to new ideas. And this is sad. A mind is a terrible thing to close.

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The Owl and the Ass

By Jim Spiegel

Welcome to our blog.  No doubt you have noticed the images of the owl and the ass above.  These are not random, of course.  We chose them because (at least in popular consciousness) they represent “wisdom” and “folly,” respectively.  If we had gone with random, then we’d have chosen images that are more easily drawn, like an egg and a pyramid, or a square and a tree, or maybe just a smiley face.  But no….  We had to go with purposeful and symbolic, thus leaving us in the quandary of deciding how to find some good original renderings of an owl and an ass.  The images you see were drawn by me (Jim).  Obviously, I’m no artist, as the drawings are primitive and lack pizzazz.  We briefly considered commissioning a professional artist to produce the images for us but decided against this because, for one thing, we don’t have a lot of extra cash lying around to fund this endeavor.  Frankly, we’d rather spend what we do have on chai, CDs, and diapers.  Also, we figure that since this is a homespun operation, my unwieldy drawings will do, at least for now.

However, in keeping with the interactive nature of this blog, we would like to invite you to send us your own original drawing(s)-whether a quick sketch or laboriously crafted painting-of an owl and/or an ass.  Make it comical or serious, minimalist or ornate.  Any style or mood will do.  Why?  Because this blog will be a thing of many moods-sometimes serious and (hopefully) sometimes funny.  You may submit your drawing(s) as an attachment to Jim at jmspiegel@taylor.edu.  There is no deadline.  We may or may not incorporate your drawing(s) into our blog nameplate, but if it’s interesting enough we’ll post it.  And we will give you credit for your work if we decide to use it.  But sorry-no cash remuneration.

Okay, enough of that.  A few words of explanation are in order regarding just why owls and asses commonly represent the wise and the foolish.  As for owls, they are nocturnal and can function very well in the dark.  Also, they are far-sighted, able to spot prey from hundreds of feet away, while having poor vision for things up-close.  These traits are good metaphors for wisdom, as wise people can maintain their integrity even in the midst of moral “darkness.”  A wise person also demonstrates a keen eye for what lies beyond, while not being distracted by immediate concerns.  The linkage between owls and wisdom probably also has to do with the solemn or studious look of the bird.  At any rate, in the West owls are commonly associated with wisdom, even dating back to ancient Greece, where Athena, the goddess of wisdom, was frequently depicted as holding an owl.

As for the ass or donkey, its scientific name is Equus asinus, from which we get the word “asinine.”  In ancient times, the ass was used to symbolize Dionysus, the Greek God of indulgence and excess.  And as we all know, fools are overindulgent and excessive.  Donkeys also have a reputation for being stubborn and unteachable.  This is not really accurate, but we’ll follow that folklore because, well, we need a good image for foolishness.  As with humans, in the animal kingdom it is sometimes difficult to distinguish stubbornness and stupidity from independence and single-mindedness.  But in most cases it is easy to tell the difference between the two, as the ways of the fool eventually come to ruin.

Who is wise and who is foolish?  To summarize the biblical contrast between them, the wise person is prudent, teachable, self-controlled, and morally insightful, while the fool is reckless, stubborn, self-indulgent, and morally thick-headed.  For more details, see the book of Proverbs.

The content of this blog will display the ways of the wise and foolish.  While we will seldom apply these tags to the ideas and people we discuss, we trust you’re wise enough to know which applies in each case.