You might have seen the recent Gap commercial that throws just about every religious winter holiday into the mix.

If you haven't seen it, here it is:



In addition to Christmas, Hanukkah and Kwanzaa you might have heard a "Go Solstice!" in there as well. That's a nod to Wicca and their celebration of the winter solstice which usually occurs on December 21 or 22 (it's the 21st this year).

One of the claims Wiccans make to demonstrate their priority over the Christian's Christmas is the fact that Christmas isn't really Christ's birthday. Rather, the early church linked its celebration of Christmas with the pre-existing pagan (Roman) solstice celebrations. Consequently, Wiccans claim that "Christmas" is really their holiday. Christians stole it.

Mark Oppenheimer has an interesting article up over at Slate about how Wiccans, who have a point about Christmas, have struggled to legitimize some of their other claims of "deep history." From Oppenheimer's article:

The rare Wiccan belief that pans out is that Christmas is an adaptation of a solstice celebration. We have no way of knowing when Jesus was born. Scholars generally agree that by the late fourth century his birthday was figured for Dec. 25, because that was already the day of the Roman feast of Sol Invictus (the "undefeatable sun"), a solstice holiday, as well as the time of Saturnalia, the festival for Saturn.

But in reaching for a usable past, Wiccans trumpet numerous other historical claims that are entirely without merit. The central claim that Wicca is descended from pre-Christian cultures and that it was driven underground by violent Christians was popularized by the writer Starhawk, whose 1979 book The Spiral Dance: A Rebirth of the Ancient Religion of the Great Goddess is a foundational text for contemporary Wiccans. Starhawk based her teachings on the work of, among others, Marija Gimbutas, a UCLA anthropologist who in the 1970s and 1980s argued that in pre-Christian times there existed a unified, female-centered, Indo-European society that worshipped a Goddess.

Recent scholars, however, have shown that there was no prehistoric Goddess-centered matriarchy. They've also concluded that the Celts probably did not celebrate eight seasonal sabbats, and, alas, that contemporary Wicca was invented in the 1950s by Gerald Gardner, an English civil servant with a deep interest in the 19th-century occult.

The part of Oppenheimer's article that really intrigued me was his analysis of faith and historicity. Specifically, by making claims that can be fact-checked the Wiccan faith opens itself up to a historical debunking that undermines the faith experience of believers. Here's Oppenheimer's analysis:

And therein lies the problem for Wiccans: Religions tend to succeed to the extent that they are not subject to tests of proof. They are based on beliefs in invisible deities and on mystical experiences that can't be explained by one person to another but must be experienced for oneself. So, the more obscured by time or erosion a religion's possible proofs are, the more freely the religion can succeed as a matter of faith. Mormonism could never flourish so long as Joseph Smith could be interrogated, face to face, about his visions. He needed to become a mythic—that is to say, long dead—figure. Jews should pray that we never find the Ark of the Covenant; the truth of a religious system should not be subjected to carbon-dating the tablets.

So long as Wiccans are hung up on whether Christmas is derived from old solstice rites (it is) or whether Christendom murdered 9 million alleged witches from the 14th to the 18th centuries (not even close), the religion will seem a little absurd. It's one thing to have faith in things unseen; that's human. It's a whole other thing to have faith in an easily disproved historical conceit.

For skeptics of religion (think Sam Harris or Richard Dawkins) there would be little difference between the historical claims of Christians versus the historical claims of Wiccans. That is, just because the historical claims of Christianity can't be verified shouldn't make them any more true or any less outlandish when compared to Wiccans.

The relationship between historicity and faith is a snarly one. And theologians are all over the place on this issue. Consider a recent discussion on Ben Myer's blog about Richard Swinburne's application of Bayesian probability to the resurrection. I'm no theologian, but it seems like a great deal of the debate on Ben's blog boils down to how one should (or if they should) approach the resurrection as a historical and empirical event. One move is to remove the resurrection from the coils of historicity. This extracts the resurrection from conversations about "proof" or "disproof." The other move is to apply the tools of empirical and historical evidence to the resurrection to either "prove" or render "probable" the historical claim of the resurrection.

Early in the history of this blog I posted my reasons for subscribing to universalism. Lately I've wanted to pull those arguments into a summary post. Here, then, are the reasons I believe in universal reconciliation, the eventual redemption of all of humanity.

1. Talbott's Propositions (along with a discussion of moral luck and human volition)
The philosopher Thomas Talbott has us consider the following three propositions:

1. God’s redemptive love extends to all human sinners equally in the sense that he sincerely wills or desires the redemption of each one of them.
2. Because no one can finally defeat God’s redemptive love or resist it forever, God will triumph in the end and successfully accomplish the redemption of everyone whose redemption he sincerely wills or desires.
3. Some human sinners will never be redeemed but will instead be separated from God forever.

All three propositions have ample biblical support. But, as Talbott points out, you cannot, logically, endorse all three. Talbott goes on to show how the various soteriological systems adopt two of the propositions and reject/marginalize the third. Summarizing how this happens:

1. Calvinism/Augustinianism: Adopt #2 and #3. God will accomplish his plans and some will be separated from God forever. This implies a rejection of #1, that God wills to save all humanity. This conclusion is captured in the doctrine of election and double predestination (i.e., God predestines some to be saved and some to be lost).
2. Arminianism: Adopt #1 and #3. God loves all people and some people will be separated from God forever. This implies that God's desires--for example, to save everyone--can be thwarted and unfulfilled. This is usually explained by an appeal to human choice. Due to free will people can resist/reject God. Thus, where a Calvinist puts the "blame" on God for someone going to hell (election) Arminians place the blame on people (free will).
3. Universalism: Adopt #1 and #2. God loves all people and will accomplish his purposes. This implies a rejection of #3. The implication is that God will continue his salvific work in some postmortem fashion. Note that this postmortem salvific work can, and often does, involve a strong vision of hell and can be Christocentric.

I reject Calvinism because I find the doctrine of election to be loathsome. I don't find God worthy of worship, praise or service if he created people with the intention of torturing most of them forever. True, such actions would demonstrate his sovereignty and "justice" but it is hard to see those actions as loving and praise-worthy. Also, I don't see how Calvinism allows for a dynamic and interactive relationship between God and humanity. We end up being mere puppets and playthings.

To be fair, the reason Calvinism and Reformed theology leaves me cold is largely biographical. I grew up in an Arminian tradition. Since college, however, I've grown disillusioned with free will soteriological and theodicy systems. For three interrelated reasons:

1. Moral Luck: We begin life in very different places, morally and religiously. Some people get a head start on Christianity. Others are raised in different religious traditions. Further, our life journeys can be highly variable, religiously and morally. A child might be abused by a church leader. A missionary might never show up at your village.
2. The Timing of Death is Unpredictable: The death event is arbitrary in its timing. Some people live to a ripe old age and get to repent of past sins or find the time to explore Christianity (if they were born into another religion). Other people die young and never get the chance, through no fault of their own, to repent or explore Christianity.
3. Free Will is a Non-Starter: As a psychologist I've come to believe that human volition (will) is very circumscribed and anemic in its powers. Humans have the capacity for choice, and perhaps freedom within a certain range, but at the end of the day human choice is finite and limited. It can only do so much.

Given that our moral and religious journeys are qualitatively different (e.g., moral luck: some people get head starts), that death is random (which can arbitrarily lengthen or shorten your religious and moral journey) and a realistic view of human volitional powers (there is no radical form of free will) it was difficult for me to maintain the Arminian stance of my religious heritage.

So, having rejected both Reformed and Arminian thinking I've settled on universalism as the soteriological and eschatological system that best describes my views on salvation and redemption.

2. A Morally Coherent View of Justice
Most defenders of a classical view of hell eventually make appeals to God's justice. However, for justice to be justice it has to meet a few, almost axiomatic, standards. Most importantly, all notions of justice involve proportionality. As they say, the punishment must fit the crime. Thus, a punishment of infinite duration and unspeakable torment fails to meet any moral standard of justice. More, if we want to link justice to love then there needs to be a rehabilitative facet to the punishment. Not all justice is rehabilitative. Capital punishment isn't. But a loving justice will try to accomplish three things:

1. Vengeance for Victims (Justice)
2. Rehabilitation of the Perpetrators (Grace)
3. The Reconciliation of Perpetrators and Victims (Forgiveness and Repentance)

Of the major soteriological systems only universalism gets us all three of these things.

3. Missional Concerns Over the Soteriological/Eschatological Disjoint
Many people in the church see salvation as a binary, you are either saved or lost. Christians then fetishize this status, obsessing over who, at Judgment Day, will be saved or lost. This causes the Christian community to become otherworldly in its focus, ignoring the cosmic (e.g., social, political, ecological) and developmental (i.e., sanctification) aspects of salvation. This becomes a missional problem in the church, where people just look to "get saved," eschatologically speaking. But it is hard to fault people for this fetish if they are seeing things correctly, that there will be a non-reversible binary judgement at the end of all things. In short, as much as missional church leaders want to instill the notion that salvation is this-worldly as well as other-worldly they will fail, for clear psychological reasons, unless they undermine the classic doctrine of hell. Leave the classical teaching of hell intact (overtly or by trying to ignore it) and you'll compromise your missional effort. Like it or not, hell and mission are intimately related. Worries over hell (which can't be helped if you leave the doctrine intact) will import otherworldliness into the mission of the church.

4. Regulating Passages
The biggest objection to universalism involves the passages regarding hell in the bible. However, there is no doctrinal teaching that doesn't have contradictory tensions within the biblical witness. Witness the hermeneutical and exegetical diversity within the Christian tradition. In short, universalists are not in any unique position. This is the way it is with just about any doctrine.

The issue, then, ultimately boils down to which biblical texts will regulate doctrinal choices. For example, which of the two passages regulates your doctrine regarding female leadership in the church?

1. "I do not permit a woman to teach, nor have authority over a man." (1 Timothy 2.12)
2. "There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus." (Galatians 3.28)

If you are a Complementarian Passage #1 regulates your understanding of Passage #2. If you are an Egalitarian Passage #2 regulates how you understand Passage #1. And there is no way to resolve any debate between the two camps as these are meta-biblical choices.

A similar thing holds for the soteriological debates. Universalists have regulating passages that frame how they understand the texts about hell. Here are four regulating texts for universalists:

1. "God is love." (1 John 4.8)
2. "For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross." (Colossians 1.19-20)
3. "When he has done this, then the Son himself will be made subject to him who put everything under him, so that God may be all in all." (1 Corinthians 15.28)
4. "For God has bound all men over to disobedience so that he may have mercy on them all." (Romans 11.32)

As with the gender texts one has to choose regulating texts about hell. And these are meta-biblical choices. People who believe in a classical vision of hell will read the four passages above through that lens. Universalists, by contrast, will read the texts on hell through the lens of these four passages. That is, they will teach that hell must:

1. Be a manifestation that "God is love."
2. Be a means to "reconcile all things" to God
3. Allow God to be "all in all"
4. Provide a way for God to "have mercy upon all"

5. Hope
I think it was Karl Barth who said that he couldn't be sure if universalism was true but that it was every Christian's obligation to hope so.

In January I'm preaching again at my church. Which should be interesting as my last sermon didn't go over too well with some. I used the word "crap" and compared spiritual formation to peeing straight in a public bathroom. Some thought this was a bit inappropriate. Oh well... At least it was a different kind of sermon.

In this coming sermon I want to try to describe the Christian's experience in the world. And by "the world" I mean, in light of the most recent series I did, the principalities and powers. The way markets, political structures, nations, and institutions make slaves of us and cause us to dehumanize each other. I want to describe how anonymous marketplace encounters cause me to see the person standing in front of me in a line at WalMart as less than a person. These people in my way are just obstacles. Impediments. Rocks in the path of my life.

I want to talk about how the Christan should feel about all this, all these dehumanizing influences that we rarely pay attention to. I want to describe how many Christans are lulled into a kind of moral stupor, just going with the flow of American culture without ever objecting. Or even noticing that there might be something objectionable in the first place.

Words like "rebellion", "resistance" or "counter-cultural" come to mind. Talk like this also gets people thinking about social justice. But what I'm after is a description of a basic dissatisfaction, a sense of not fitting in with the world. Of being discontented with how the world is functioning, how it grinds people down. Here's the phrase I've been kicking around for a week or so:

An irritable restlessness.

I'm wondering if this phrase--an irritable restlessness--captures the experience of being a Christian in the world. And to be clear, I'm not saying that Christians should be cranky. I'm saying that they don't fit in and they get upset about how the world treats people. The irritability here is with the dehumanizing forces of modern living that turn us all into anonymous ciphers.

I think an irritable restlessness characterized Jesus' ministry. He seemed frequently frustrated by the social and religious arrangements that created forces of dehumanization. So Jesus breaks bread with tax-collectors and sinners. Jesus seemed impatient and restless with the status quo, with how things were going. His entire ministry seemed to crackle with an irritable restlessness. A morally charged dissatisfaction and a refusal to submit to a status quo that dehumanized people.

In a sense, then, I guess I am talking about a kind of crankiness, of being a sticky wicket, a sore spot in the world, someone who mucks up the smooth running machinery of indifference. In short, Christians aren't supposed to make the world run better. Rather, we object--get irritable and restless--when asked to submit to the status quo. We just aren't going to treat people that way. And if that means I'm less efficient, on time, or productive. Well, world, you can go to hell. I'm taking my time to treat people differently. I'm a bit fed up.

This might sound revolutionary. But what I'm talking about is more workaday and private. An intentional refusal in my day to day interactions to treat people as strangers, as obstacles, as blank faces in the crowd. Everything in modern life is forcing me into that pattern of living. But I'm irritably restless with it all. It's not right. It's dehumanizing. So I choose kindness. Patience. Warmth. Humanity. Dignity. Not for myself. For you. To wash your feet. To open the door for you. To listen to you. To offer a word of gratitude. To pause for a moment in a marketplace exchange to connect with you as a person. To recognize you as a sacred miracle, as an Image of the Invisible God.

Ah, the fruitcake! That most reviled of Christmas foods!

Check out this alarmingly interesting article--Let Them Eat Fruitcake--by Sara Dickerman. The interesting part, to me at least, was discovering the monastic traditions associated with fruitcakes. From the article:

There are monastery fruitcakes (like the one my family used to receive), usually made by Trappist brothers, which are notable for their strong alcoholic qualities and a dense, cellared moistness.

I Googled "monastery fruitcake" and the top hit was the Holy Cross Abby, a Trappist community which has a bakery where you can order fruitcakes (the picture is taken from their products page). Here's their description of the fruitcake they make:

A fruitcake from the Trappist monks for those who appreciate quality products, made from an old fashioned recipe, using choice fruits and nut meats in a brandy-laced batter.

That actually sounds good.

Your latest weapon in the the war on Christmas, the CHRIST-mas tree from Boss Creations. From their website:

In recent years, our Christmas holiday has been made to become a generic holiday for all religions with many being forced to call it a "Holiday" season instead of Christmas season. We, as Christians, must take a stand and rescue our religious holiday. We at Boss Creations believe that one way to do this is to decorate with more Christian-themed holiday decorations including The CHRIST-mas Tree.

We have figured a way to enhance the tradition of decorating a tree for Jesus at Christmas by adding a cross that acts as a reminder of Him. By changing our tree to include a cross, we are making a statement that we want to keep our Christmas holiday! Our new tree and decorations ideas will not only help to enhance our celebration of the Christmas holiday but will help to enlighten those who may decorate for Christmas but may not be "Christians."

John Oliver and John Stewart compare Christmas with Hanukkah:

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Also look that this interesting article in Slate about the competition in the religious marketplace between Christmas and Hanukkah. First, Ray Fisman has us consider the notion that faith exists in a competitive "religious marketplace":

The idea of applying economic analysis to spiritual life isn't new. Adam Smith, the great-granddaddy of modern economics, described churches as though they were profit-maximizing firms, and congregants as their customers. Just as competition between Samsung and Sony pushes each company to make better flat-screen monitors at ever-lower prices, Smith felt that clergy in a competitive religious marketplace would provide services with greater "zeal and industry" than religious leaders in places where one faith had a monopoly.

Given this perspective recent research has examined if Christmas is putting marketplace pressure on the American Jewish community to make Hanukkah, a minor holiday in Judaism, more competitive with Christmas. Which means more spending and presents overall. More from Fisman on this research:

At no time of year do Jews feel more assaulted by other religions than at Christmas. Smith would say that to prevent a loss of market share Judaism should counter with its own holiday merriment. The authors of the study begin with a survey comparing the holiday observances of students in Israel—a country where Jews are largely insulated from outside religious pressures—with students at Stanford University. Only 30 percent of Israelis ranked Hanukkah as a "top three" festival celebrated by their Jewish classmates; at Stanford the figure was more than 95 percent...

The authors of the study (parents all of them) hypothesize that children are most susceptible to Christmas envy...

Last post in this series.

Here and there during this series people have asked about the gospel accounts and the exorcisms Jesus performs. The question boils down to this: It's all well and good to align "the principalities and powers" with human (generally political) power structures, but how does this account fit with the gospel narratives where Jesus appears to encounter evil spirits inside of people?

In keeping with my sketchy presentation (these are "notes" and not a cogent argument or MDiv thesis) let me offer up some observations on this subject.

Let's bring the topic into view with two of the paradigmatic accounts about Jesus and demons:

Mark 9.15-29
When they came to the other disciples, they saw a large crowd around them and the teachers of the law arguing with them. As soon as all the people saw Jesus, they were overwhelmed with wonder and ran to greet him.

"What are you arguing with them about?" he asked.

A man in the crowd answered, "Teacher, I brought you my son, who is possessed by a spirit that has robbed him of speech. Whenever it seizes him, it throws him to the ground. He foams at the mouth, gnashes his teeth and becomes rigid. I asked your disciples to drive out the spirit, but they could not."

"O unbelieving generation," Jesus replied, "how long shall I stay with you? How long shall I put up with you? Bring the boy to me."

So they brought him. When the spirit saw Jesus, it immediately threw the boy into a convulsion. He fell to the ground and rolled around, foaming at the mouth.

Jesus asked the boy's father, "How long has he been like this?"

"From childhood," he answered. "It has often thrown him into fire or water to kill him. But if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us."

"'If you can'?" said Jesus. "Everything is possible for him who believes."

Immediately the boy's father exclaimed, "I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!"

When Jesus saw that a crowd was running to the scene, he rebuked the evil spirit. "You deaf and mute spirit," he said, "I command you, come out of him and never enter him again."

The spirit shrieked, convulsed him violently and came out. The boy looked so much like a corpse that many said, "He's dead." But Jesus took him by the hand and lifted him to his feet, and he stood up.

After Jesus had gone indoors, his disciples asked him privately, "Why couldn't we drive it out?"

He replied, "This kind can come out only by prayer."

Mark 5.1-15
They went across the lake to the region of the Gerasenes. When Jesus got out of the boat, a man with an evil spirit came from the tombs to meet him. This man lived in the tombs, and no one could bind him any more, not even with a chain. For he had often been chained hand and foot, but he tore the chains apart and broke the irons on his feet. No one was strong enough to subdue him. Night and day among the tombs and in the hills he would cry out and cut himself with stones.

When he saw Jesus from a distance, he ran and fell on his knees in front of him. He shouted at the top of his voice, "What do you want with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? Swear to God that you won't torture me!" For Jesus had said to him, "Come out of this man, you evil spirit!"

Then Jesus asked him, "What is your name?"

"My name is Legion," he replied, "for we are many." And he begged Jesus again and again not to send them out of the area.

A large herd of pigs was feeding on the nearby hillside. The demons begged Jesus, "Send us among the pigs; allow us to go into them." He gave them permission, and the evil spirits came out and went into the pigs. The herd, about two thousand in number, rushed down the steep bank into the lake and were drowned.

Those tending the pigs ran off and reported this in the town and countryside, and the people went out to see what had happened. When they came to Jesus, they saw the man who had been possessed by the legion of demons, sitting there, dressed and in his right mind; and they were afraid.

Here's my first observation. It's true that the analysis of the demons I've offered struggles to make sense of these stories. But I also want to quickly point out that those who claim to be reading these stories literally are also engaged in a misreading.

The misreading is basically this. Most Christians who believe in literal demons and demonic possession tend to frame the issue in moral terms. Demons tempt us or cause us to do immoral things. Demonic possession is seen as being filled with evil intent. The whole demon frame is a moral one.

But what we find in the gospel accounts is more of an ancient medical frame. We see, basically, symptoms of epilepsy or schizophrenia. This was how most all ancient cultures whould have understood these medical conditions. Consider a few things in the text that are absent from most church talk about demons:

1. The demon afflicts people "from childhood."
2. The demon makes people mute.
3. The demon causes seizures.
4. The demon causes a person to run around naked.
5. The demon causes a person to scream and cut oneself.

There is nothing particularly immoral, evil or "satantic" about any of this. In short, the gospel demon accounts aren't about good versus evil. The demons are "afflictions" that can have an onset in childhood and last into adulthood. And these afflictions seem very similar, from a purely symptomatic stance, to many modern medical or mental conditions.

Does this mean we should read these stories as ancient psychiatric or medical accounts? I think that is a legitimate take on the matter. These are eschatological stories showing Jesus' power over the ailments found in the Fall. Jesus calms storms, raises the dead, gives sight to the blind and restores sanity to the insane. Jesus heals creation, the body and the mind.

But, some might legitimately counter, Jesus actually has conversations with these demons. And these demons seem to go into a herd of pigs. Surely that can't be explained by an appeal to schizophrenia?

True enough. But I'd again like to make the point I made above. When people in church speak of being attacked by "demons" they aren't talking about something that looks like the Gerasene demoniac or the mute boy. We don't see naked insane people running around or people mute from childhood who have seizures. What we tend to hear about is the Frank Peretti model where demons are a shorthand for sin and evil impulses. Which is fine, you just aren't describing the gospel accounts.

In short, although there are problems with my reading of demons even the self-touted "literalist" isn't being very literal. Both of us have difficultly accommodating the gospel accounts. I imagine this is because the world of the gospels is so very different from our own.

That leaves us in a kind of an odd place. In the end, I expect people will drift toward formulations that fit how they see things, biblically, metaphysically and experientially.

Just stir these notes into that pot.

Is Santa Claus real?

Jana and I have two sons of the age where this is getting to be pressing question. (Actually, I think our oldest knows what's up and just isn't saying anything. I think he's protecting us.) Some kids in their class believe, others don't. So the question gets floated a home a lot: "Dad, is Santa Claus real?"

This question tears Jana up. She really gets tied up in knots about it. She doesn't want to disillusion the boys but she also doesn't want to be found deceiving them (even in a good cause).

Me? I say lie to the kids. I'm a huge believer in lying. You can't get through the day without lying. It's a social necessity. So count me as a fan of lying. Here's a snippet of an article of mine now in press:

It goes without saying that Christians are deeply committed to truth. Dishonesty and lies are sinful and immoral. But this stance is problematic given the fact that everyday conversation is awash in deception and deceit. We lie frequently in everyday conversation. In one of the best empirical studies on lying it was observed that we lie in 1 out of every 4 conversations (DePaulo, Kashy, Kirkendol, Wyer, & Epstein, 1996). Given the sheer number of conversations we have during the day the number of lies we tell on a weekly basis is staggering.

This might seem to be a simple observation about human sinfulness but a closer inspection complicates that assessment. Specifically, many of the lies we tell are altruistic in intent. For example, we might offer compliments we don’t truly believe in order to protect or enhance a friend’s self-concept.

Generally speaking we don’t mind dishonesty of this sort. We realize that a certain degree of deceitfulness is necessary in everyday conversation in order to keep our casual encounters free of ego-threat, shaming, and the loss of face. Were we to be totally “honest” with each other casual and passing conversation would become unremittingly brutal and obscene. Politeness is inherently dishonest, but it is also socially necessary.

Thus, there is a complex tension between protecting each other and being authentic and truthful with each other. As they say, the truth hurts. Consequently, we are very careful when disclosing the truth, working out within our hearts a calculus of costs and benefits. At times it is just not worth shaming you to tell you the truth. The matter is too trivial and the cost, psychologically and interpersonally, too great.

In short, it appears that not only do we lie a great deal in life such dishonesty is necessary and required. As Dietrich Bonhoeffer noted (1955/1995, p. 361):

It is only the cynic who claims “to speak the truth” at all times and in all places to all men in the same way, but who, in fact, displays nothing but a lifeless image of the truth. He dons the halo of the fanatical devotee of truth who can make no allowance for human weakness; but, in fact, he is destroying the living truth between men. He wounds shame, desecrates mystery, breaks confidence, betrays the community in which he lives, and laughs arrogantly at the devastation he has wrought at the human weakness which “cannot bear the truth.” He says truth is destructive and demands its victims, and he feels like a god above these feeble creatures and does not know that he is serving Satan.

To reach a kind of compromise between the two of us, Jana and I have decided to not answer the question if Santa is real. We basically say, "If you believe in Santa, you get presents from Santa. If you don't, you don't." Of course, the boys will still get presents from their parents either way. But if you want presents from Santa you have to "believe" in Santa.

Now this "belief" is going to look different for my two boys. For the youngest the belief is going to take an ontological turn. That Santa exists. For my oldest the "belief" is starting to look like pretending, being in on the joke so to speak. But my ultimate hope is that this sense of pretending changes into one of participation and praxis. Santa isn't about ontology. It's about giving gifts and not taking credit for them. Learning the joy of finding the perfect gift for a loved one and watching them open it. To see the joy and surprise and tears when they open it. It's about learning to become Santa.

Epistemologically, then, I think Santa Claus is real. But real in the pragmatic sense, as a practice, rather than as an ontological category. Santa is a way of giving rather than a jolly old elf. Santa is participation in the Spirit of Christmas.

So in that sense, Santa is very real indeed.

As a Christian I'm deeply committed to fairness and sharing.

So when you go to a pizza place and the waiter cuts the pizza off-center how can you be sure people sharing the pizza will get the same amount?

Cuts down the center seem fairly simple to handle, but off-center cuts create snarly moral dilemmas.

Visually, the problem is obvious:


Well, thanks to an article Mel sent me, mathematicians are all over this problem. In fact, two mathematicians have recently cracked the problem, proving a general procedure for any number (even or odd) of off-center cuts. If you are a nerd like me you'll love the article.

Go here for Obama's Nobel Lecture.

Theologically, a Niebuhrian stance.

In this series I've discussed the thinking of Walter Wink and John Howard Yoder concerning the Powers. Both Wink and Yoder reference the work of William Stringfellow and his analysis of the powers. What I particularly like about Stringfellow's work is that he goes deeper, providing an analysis of the moral and spiritual core behind the powers.

Similar to Wink and Yoder, Stringfellow associates the "principalities and powers" with any created thing, idea, or image that captivates us and commands service and sacrifice from us:

According to the Bible, the principalities are legion in species, number, variety and name. They are designated by such multifarious titles as powers, virtues, thrones, authorities, dominions, demons, princes, strongholds, lords, angels, gods, elements, spirits…

Terms that characterize are frequently used biblically in naming the principalities: “tempter,” “mocker,” “foul spirit,” “destroyer,” “adversary,” “the enemy.” And the privity of the principalities to the power of death incarnate is shown in mention of their agency to Beelzebub or Satan or the Devil or the Antichrist…

And if some of these seem quaint, transposed into contemporary language they lose quaintness and the principalities become recognizable and all too familiar: they include all institutions, all ideologies, all images, all movements, all causes, all corporations, all bureaucracies, all traditions, all methods and routines, all conglomerates, all races, all nations, all idols. Thus, the Pentagon or the Ford Motor Company or Harvard University or the Hudson Institute or Consolidated Edison or the Diners Club or the Olympics or the Methodist Church or the Teamsters Union are principalities. So are capitalism, Maoism, humanism, Mormonism, astrology, the Puritan work ethic, science and scientism, white supremacy, patriotism, plus many, many more—sports, sex, any profession or discipline, technology, money, the family—beyond any prospect of full enumeration. The principalities and powers are legion.

Using the language of the Old and New Testaments, Stringfellow calls the Powers, in a move familiar if you've been reading this series, "false gods," "demons" and "idols." That is, the Powers demand "sacrifice" from us, leading to a kind of "demonic possession":

People are veritably besieged, on all sides, at every moment simultaneously by these claims and strivings of the various powers each seeking to dominate, usurp, or take a person’s time, attention, abilities, effort; each grasping at life itself; each demanding idolatrous service and loyalty. In such a tumult it becomes very difficult for a human being even to identify the idols that would possess him or her…

Again, this analysis should be familiar as it is the view we've been working with throughout this series. But what Stringfellow adds to this discussion is his analysis of the moral force behind the powers. As we have discussed, the powers have a "spirituality." What is that spirituality? Although the powers are "legion" what is their common satanic core? Stringfellow, following the biblical writers, notes the close connection between Satan and Death. And it is Death, not Satan, that the last Enemy to be defeated. Satan, in this view, is the "angel of death," the spirituality of death. And, in this time of the Fall, Death and his "angel" rule. From Stringfellow:

Death, after all, is no abstract idea, nor merely a destination in time, nor just an occasional happening, nor only a reality for human beings, but, both biblically and empirically, death names a moral power claiming sovereignty over all people and all things in history. Apart from God, death is a living power greater--because death survives them all--than any other moral power in this world of whatever sort: human beings, nations, corporations, cultures, wealth, knowledge, fame or memory, language, the arts, race, religion.

Human institutions and ideologies are fallen--demonic--because they serve the angel of death. In Darwinian language they fight for their own survival. This means that death (survival) becomes their "god" or "angel," the morality and spirituality of the institution.

…history discloses that the actual meaning of such human idolatry of nations, institutions, or other principalities is death. Death is the only moral significance that a principality proffers human beings. That is to say, whatever intrinsic moral power is embodied in a principality—for a great corporation, profit, for example; or for a nation, hegemony; or for an ideology, conformity—that is sooner or later suspended by the greater moral power of death. Corporations die. Nations die. Ideologies die. Death survives them all. Death is—apart from God—the greatest moral power in this world, outlasting and subduing all other powers no matter how marvelous they may seem for the time being. This means, theologically speaking, that the object of allegiance and servitude, the real idol secreted within all idolatries, the power above all principalities and powers—the idol of all idols—is death.

As Stringfellow says, "Survival of the institution is the operative ethic of all institutions, in their fallenness." Consequently, when individuals serve these powers or allow the powers to shape their lives they come to serve Satan, the angel of death.

[The Power] is in conflict with the person until the person surrenders life in one fashion or another to the principality. The principality requires not only recognition and adulation as an idol from movie fans or voters or the public, but also demands that the person of the same name give up his or her life as a persons to the service and homage of the image. And when that surrender is made, the person in fact dies, though not yet physically. For at that point one is literally possessed by one's own image.

Let me try to illustrate this with a concrete example. I work at a "Christian" institution. I put "Christian" in scare quotes because, according to Stringfellow, my place of employment is a "principality and power." I wouldn't call ACU "demonic" but it is a fallen power that makes it struggle to be Christian. Why? Well, as Wink has taught us, human institutions have a spirituality, an "angel" associated with them. During the Fall, according to Stringfellow, this angel is, at root, the angel of death (the satanic). What this means is that, at the end of the day, the institution's ultimate goal will be to survive. Death is the deepest moral power. This means that, when push comes to shove, the institution will do what it has do to survive. It will fire people, protect its reputation, behave inconsistently (relative to the Christian ethic), etc. And let me be clear, I'm not being hard on ACU. All institutions are like this. And people are sacrificed every day to serve these powers. As Stringfellow says, even churches are demonic powers. In my denomination the people in the Churches of Christ have treated each other horribly to serve the (demonic) power known as "The Churches of Christ" (feel free to plug in your own religious tradition). Why? Because the "Churches of Christ" must survive, persist. The power, through those who serve it, defends itself. And it's a suprahuman thing. The power, not the people, is in control. The power existed before this generation and will survive it. It's like an ant colony. No one person rules. Individual ants come and go. Live and die. What controls it all is an emergent spirituality that governs the survival response and keeps the power alive from generation to generation, acquiring new slaves and servants as it moves through time.

Of course, some powers are more fallen than others, more angelic or demonic. ACU is, generally speaking, a good place, a place inspired by Christianity, more angel than demon. But I have no illusions. ACU existed before me and will exist after me. I'll spend my life serving this entity. And it can, like any idol, come to define my worth and significance. It can "own" or "possess" me. And I also know, that if the bottom line gets threatened, ACU will choose its life over mine. I serve ACU. ACU doesn't serve me. ACU is the power, not me. If faced with the choice, ACU will hand me a pink slip. Further, that fear of a pink slip, that anxiety, keeps me docile and slavish. Death reigns in all this.

But all this is simply to say that I shouldn't serve or worship ACU. ACU is a creature, a created thing, not God. The ancients worshiped Golden Calves. We worship human institutions, money, 401Ks, religious traditions and political parties.

So how can we escape the power of death? Christians call this escape resurrection, being set free from the power and spirituality of death. From Stringfellow:

Resurrection, however, refers to the transcendence of the power of death and the fear or thrall of the power of death, here and now, in this life, in this world. Resurrection, thus, has to do with life and, indeed, the fulfillment of life before death...

[Christ's] power over death is effective not just at the terminal point of a person's life but throughout one's life, during this life in this world, right now. This power is effective in the times and places in the daily lives of human beings when they are so gravely and relentlessly assailed by the claims of principalities for an idolatry that, in spite of all disguises, really surrenders to death as the reigning presence in the life of the world. His resurrection means the possibility of living in this life, in the very midst of death's works, safe and free from death.

On to Part 10

From a Slate article--entitled Interference!-- by Christopher Beam:

A House subcommittee approved a bill Wednesday that would prohibit the NCAA from dubbing its title contest a "national championship" unless it switches to a playoff system.

Can Congress actually do this? Well, according the article sports leagues are forms of interstate commerce which bring the feds into it. From the article:

Because sports are considered interstate commerce. Article I, Section 8 of the U.S. Constitution gives Congress the power to regulate commerce among the states. The Supreme Court has interpreted that power to include sports leagues

Also, the BCS might be a monopoly and, if so, anti-trust laws would apply. More from Beam's article:

Congress also has the authority to write and revise antitrust laws, which the current championship selection system may be violating. The organizers of the BCS pick 10 teams to play in the various college bowls, including the Sugar Bowl and the Rose Bowl. Six of these teams—the champions of the ACC, Big 12, Big East, Big Ten, Pac-10, and SEC—are automatically locked into getting a coveted—and lucrative—BCS bowl bid. According to critics, this favoritism prevents fair competition. A playoff, they say, would be a more equitable way to decide which teams make it to the finals

Now this is government intervention I can get behind. Down with the BCS! I want a playoff!

Rick Warren releases a video encyclical to Ugandan pastors where a bill is being considered that would allow the government to execute homosexual persons:

My wife called me this morning to alert me to this interesting story she heard on NPR. The NPR text:

Smoking can kill you and so can the warning labels on cigarettes. Psychologists did a small study of the effects of warning labels that mention death. Apparently a reminder of death makes you feel stress. You then want to do something comforting. Naturally, you reach for a cigarette. Researchers say they'd prefer warning labels that do not mention death such as: Smoking makes you unattractive.

I dug around and here's a summary of the research NPR highlighted. The study has to do with Terror Management Theory which I've written a great deal about on this blog.