I Don't Hae To Write That Entry Anymore!

Over the last month or so, one theme in my thoughts has been a dreamed-of blog entry on the "slippery slope" argument. Basically, it all started with an irresponsible paradox, and went on from there. I said "you know, once you start thinking in terms of the slippery slope argument, you tend to apply it to more and more cases until it imprisons your entire life." The idea caught, and I decided I had to post on it, only I couldn't quite put the time or effort into it to make ideas coherent even enough for my posts.

Now I don't have to, thanks to Real Live Preacher's discussion of the topic. Because that's what I wanted to say, only probably said better than I would have said it.

Notable conclusion:
"As a matter of fact, all of the really lovely and interesting things that humans think and do exist on slippery slopes. Love, parenting, sexuality, boundaries (both geographic and emotional), spirituality, morality, legality, economy, consumption and production. Really there is no end to this list. In truth, I am at a loss at this moment to think of ANY human endeavor that does not exist on a slippery slope of some kind.

So relax. Keep your eyes and your heart open. Think and believe and act. Changing your mind is always a respectable option. Hopefully your heart will follow in time. Fear not the slippery slope, for we have been slipping and sliding throughout history.

It's a part of what makes us human."

Initial Thoughts on V for Vendetta

1) From reviews I've read on the internet, it seems that I only thought I'd read the graphic novel, but need to give it a lot more time and thought.

2) The acting in the movie was surprisingly excellent, with the possible example of Natalie Portman (and there I'd blame direction, which seemed occassionally to be a bit spotty.)

3) Probably most importantly, did anyone other than me notice that the future depicted in this movie never pretended to be anything other than the result of a number of particular and specific future events? Just because they borrowed a lot of imagery from the right in depicting the bizarre and forboding English dictatorship doesn't make this a one-for-one allegory or description of actual events. Could everyone please turn with me to Tolkien's introduction to The Lord of the Rings, the one where he talks about applicability (occurring in the reader's mind) and allegory (the dictatorship of the author.) Now let me repeat again--the film does not claim that it shows the inevitable future, but only shows a particular result of elaborate processes only partially explained in its backstory.

4) The homosexual element is not only (predictably) the most complexly problematic element of the film, but also (surprisingly) an even larger element in the film than in the book. For the short version, my opinion is still that while homosexuality is wrong, it is important to acknowledge homosexuals as humans just like anyone else--and the (humanly natural) tendency among heterosexuals who believe homosexuality to be perverted sex to refuse to view homosexuals as fellow humans and unique image-bearers of God is the real element that gives power to the film's pro-homosexuality rhetoric. In any case, it's far better than the hideously painful "Mom, Dad--we're mutants" scene from X2.

5) The film itself is very powerful, and while the Hollywoodized ending does undercut a lot of the book's ambiguity, the film still forms a rather vast imaginative tapestry in which the viewer's mind is encouraged to play and explore its own ideas. I think that's the film's greatest merit. It's not quite Hamlet ("you don't read Hamlet, Hamlet reads you"), but it does seem to exist in far more of a dialectic with the viewer than most movies--even indy movies--that I've seen.

On the Surprising Power and Lamentable Decline of Christian Universalism

"I am the way, the truth, and the light. Anyone who comes to the father does so through me."

"Blessed are the poor in spirit,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn,
for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek,
for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
for they will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful,
for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart,
for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers,
for they will be called sons of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven."

"Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened."

"Then little children were brought to Jesus for him to place his hands on them and pray for them. But the disciples rebuked those who brought them.

Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these." When he had placed his hands on them, he went on from there."

All the above quotes are there for the purpose of reminding the reader of one aspect of Scriptures. They are not there as proof-texts, nor to make an argument. Hell is a real place, and I still can't imagine an honest reading of the Bible that doesn't allow for the fact that some people go there. But even so...

There has always been a handful of Christians, it seems, who take on themselves the task of preaching God's love so enthuiastically that they can't imagine any possible world where a God this loving and a message this compelling can't, in the fullness of time, reach everyone. People who took seriously the moral message of Jesus, and the wisdom of God that demolishes the commonsense wisdom of man. People who took seriously the sinfullness of humanity, and saw grace only purchased through the sacrifice of Christ. Yet people who, nevertheless, could declare (as the Medieval universalist Julian of Norwich) "all will be well, all will be well, all will be well, and all manner of things will be well" because of a singleminded determination not to think about icky things such as Mary Joe's sweet grandmother who died a sorrowful, caring and gentle atheist.

Such a universalism is a rather tricky subject, because while it is theologically and scripturally unsound, it seems in total agreement with the heart of Scriptures. As a kid, I was warned about universalism, with the normal argument that it is a slippery slope and all universalists will become Unitarian Universalists, and therefore eliminate anything difficult or unfashionable from the Bible, instead becoming mindless affirmers. But was that really true of Julian of Norwich, who secluded herself (according to the not-unheard of Medieval tradition) in a small cell for the entirety of her life, the better to sacrifice for Christ and meditate on His beauty? Was that true of George MacDonald, who bent every book he wrote to the task of teaching children of the importance of following both God's commandments and God's still, small voice? I never heard accounts of either of these Christians' later rejection of more central Scriptural truths. Even though George MacDonald was kicked out of his precinct rather early in life for his universalism, he himself seems to have shown incredible moral courage, and not retreated into further heresy by abandoning the strict teachings of Christianity he already held.

After all, who has more faith and hope than Christian universalists, who believe against all physical evidence that God will bring even "monsters" such as Hitler to repentance and a saving faith in Himself? Who has more love than those who want such an outcome?

All this is not to say that universalism is either right nor, strictly speaking, healthy. I think it really is true that a church that preaches rightly about Hell is a church that will be much more likely to take the sacrifice of Jesus and the challenges of Scriptures seriously. And it will certainly help to differentiate Christianity from the all-too common nonsense that all religions are equally good.

For me, though, the only reason I'm not a universalist is that I feel God would have left us with more clear scriptures if he wanted to convince us that all men go to Heaven. It's a matter of loyalty to Scriptures. Yet in some of the darkest times of my soul, when I doubt even the goodness of God as I ponder God's judgment and the difficulty of His narrow way, it has been the thread of Christian Universalism that has guided me out. Somehow, the idea that people can remain Christians and even good Christians, loving God and man while ignoring elements of the truth seems very effective at mortifying my intellect, if nothing else.

Above all, I suppose, I can see no reason to live in any way except as if I was a universalist--because, after all, none can know who God will save, what conversation may have passed between someone's heart and God, or if God has elected him or her for eternal life. And knowing that God's love is so great that it inspired the universalists is a hopeful sign for me as I wander through life, a sinful beggar hoping only for God's grace to carry me through the gates of Heaven.

Thoughts (About the Man Who Could Not Get Himself Killed)

"We must all be on our guard against pride and empty boasting and beware of worldly or natural wisdom. A worldly spirit loves to talk a lot but do nothing, striving for the exterior signs of holiness that people can see, with no desire for true piety and interior holiness of spirit. It was about people like this that our Lord said, Amen I say to you, they have recieved their reward (Mt. 6: 2). The spirit of God, on the other hand, inspires us to mortify and despise our lower nature and regard it as a source of shame, worthless and of no value. Humility, patience, perfect simplicity, and true peace of heart are all its aim, but above everything else it desires the fear of God, the divine wisdom and the divine love of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit."
-St. Francis of Assisi, from his first Orders for the friars

There's a lot there that I don't agree with yet. Perhaps God will change that, or perhaps I'm destined by God for a different role in the Church. One of Francis' prime teachings, after all, was that Friars should not judge others (excepting Friars) because of their wealth, but should respect all Christians and especially priests as people appointed for God's work. So perhaps my differences are honest differences among Christians designated for different places within God's kingdom.

For Francis, wealth meant power and control over one's own life. He took Christ literally in his commandments against seeking either wealth and power. The footnote to "holy simplicity" in my edition states "a man of holy simplicity is a man not affected by human speculations; he does not calculate or scheme to realize his purposes; his heart is not divided between God and the world." I'm not sure if that was Francis's words or the words of the Franciscian editing this text, but I'm certain the sentiment was Francis's.

I am in a position where I plan greatly, where I strive to use my power to form my life into a shape. I apply to graduate school, I plan a wedding, I dream long dreams of the rest of my life. I tell myself that I hold Christ before all else, that all my actions and plans really are fundamentally, situated on God's providence. I say that if God wills that I never become a professor, I will serve Him happily anyway, and sometimes it is true. Sometimes I have a peace about the whole process, and I'm focused on Christ. But sometimes I worry and fret, I walk to the mailbox each day with an overly quick step and open the lock with slightly trembling fingers. And I have no idea what I would do if God took Hannah from me. But that, too, is God's responsibility--He will not tempt us beyond what we can bear.

So maybe God will call me within the struggles of a secular life to live out His holy purposes through faith. Or maybe I will realize that I am far too committed to this world, that my dreams and hopes are too set on Earth and too far from Heaven, and go off to be a minister to Djibouti. Whatever the case, I pray (too infrequently) that God will make my paths straight, and trust that He will keep his promise to do so if I only trust in Him.

But one thing I do know--when Francis talks of "a worldly spirit [that] loves to talk a lot but do nothing, striving for the exterior signs of holiness that people can see, with no desire for true piety and interior holiness of spirit," then I know exactly what he means.

I know of hours spent agonizing about certain friends who seem to "do the things Christ commands us" so much better than me, all despite the fact that I believe they hold a fundamental sin of legalism.

I know of the times I'm talking with someone who is suffering, and when they go over a litany of how someone has hurt them I only think "is this how people might feel about me? I want them to love me, I want them to understand me" when I should be listening and understanding my friend.

I know of the pride of sitting in a class, and not merely being "a workman well approved" through my preparation, but being better, more stable, more secure than my classmates.

I know of the endless, vain struggle to be smart enough and successful enough to have "made it" in Academia. I know that even if I have tenure and a high income with which to provide for my family and books that change the course of literary history, I will always look for more when I look to be sufficient within myself--true worldly success is the fleeting desire to be better than God.

But I believe God has called me, and I believe He shall redeem me into the Image which was the whole point in making me. So it is good for Francis to remind me that "we have nothing of our own, except for our vices and sins." Even a property-owning college student who dreams of PhD and the position of a church Elder, a man who just spent a weekend with his beloved designing rings for his marriage--even such a man has nothing of his own. My hope can never be built on this world, because all in this world is fleeting. And this is a good thing.

It is good, because like Francis, I believe that God redeems even hopelessly sinful mortals. It is easier for the camel to go through the eye of a needle than it is for a rich man to come into the kingdom of Heaven...

...but what is impossible for man is possible for God.


And in this sinful world, imperfectly, in many ways--God grants us to reflect His goodness to the world. In that, though I may not be a Friar Minor, I am a brother of Francis, and of every other sinner saved by a gracious Lord and Father.