Coloring

The Ashmont train is always late
those days I am
blotted out by the crowd.
Exchanging r's for l's clutching
ipods, cell phones, showing freshly stained
yellow fingernails.
The grey-green walls absorb me:
transparent.

I rode the 23 here naked
an outline on the slippery seat.
The travelers looked
and looked away
through colored windows
at neighbors clothed
as always
in ebony finery.

And then:
her lips painted, so real
moist crimson
she charted her flamenco conversation
round hips.
Purple heels on cement stairs, bright
A brown shrug erased me again.
Someone, (quickly before the red train comes)
find me a skin colored crayon.


- Rebecca Horner

Summer Updates...

So, it's been a while since we posted. It's summer time here, and we're all probably even crazier than during the school year.

Keep emailing us though, (gc.wallis@gmail.com) and we'll keep posting.

Have a wonderful Summer!

Memorial 5.2.09

The air smelled of stale cigarettes
as the priest began.
Painter’s pants, clerical collar,
cheap sandals, eyebrow ring,
and I half expected him to be tonsured
when he took off his Abercrombie hat for the
Lord’s prayer.

Our Father…

Next to him was the addict
identified solely by his habit of
Molestation.
And yet, he too
prayed.

Forgive us our trespasses...

The pigeons provided the atmosphere,
frightening the crowds
that persistently fail to notice the loss of a man
and his bench.

For thine is the kingdom…

As it concluded,
I thought of Mike,
Virginia,
and thousands of others cursed
by the negligence of a country,
and the failure of a Church.

Amen.


- Andrew Piercey

Message form the Prague

I am Angelica Morse, a junior psychology major at Gordon College.  I am abroad in Prague, Czech Republic this semester studying Czech and social issues involving communism, dissent, and inequality.  In a way, my traveling here has been a pilgrimage to the country of my heritage where my mother’s family still lives. 

For 3 months now I have been living in a country whose national anthem begins with, “Kde domov muj?” Where is my home?  Jan Urban, a dissident of the communist regime in Czech Republic as well as my professor, was the first to recite this line for me.  Czechs have always been occupied by other ruling powers.  They are a people who share a language, but have struggled to defend their land. Now, after the collapsing of the communist regime, Czechs are finally able to say that they live in the Czech Republic.

2009 marks the 20^th anniversary of the end of the communist regime in Czech Republic.  One would think by now that the country had moved on completely, yet I have found the Czechs still hold on to much of their old mentality. The consequences of fear and silence have paid their dues on the social normalities of the Czech people.  Under communism people would have to stand in line for hours just to buy their daily goods.  A Czech would buy whatever was available because he or she couldn’t guarantee the products would be there on another day.  Now there are options- less options than Americans are bombarded with in stores, but still there are reasonable amounts of brands- but Czechs shop in small quantities and look for sale items. On the metro no one talks unless you’re a foreigner or a teenager.  Sometimes you’ll find a couple making out or flirting, but they’re usually whispering if speaking at all.  Foreigners often perceive Czechs as rude when they interact with them along the street or in restaurants.  These facts might be true observations, but they make more sense in context.  Under communism you would be cautious with what you say in public, never talking against the regime, and keeping to yourself in case the secret police was listening.  The silence still resides in some sense that people remain private people.  In restaurants the servers don’t get paid commission and tipping is only in response to excellent service, so they don’t work towards pleasing the costumers.  No matter how they treat you, they get paid the same amount.  However, when you actually meet Czechs, have a conversation, and get to know them they are wonderful people who want to make sure you’re always full and when you ask “Jak se mas?” (how are you?) they actually respond with lengthy details.

The difference between generations is visible.  Historians call those who lived through communism the “lost generation.”  But the youth bring more modern ideals and embrace westernization.  They learn from their grandparents and even their parents about their country’s past.

My classes thrive on the stories of my professors.  My professors, who grew up under communism, and who are important figures in Czech Republic, weave their own personal experiences in with what we are learning.  I have learned things in my classes that I would never have found out from studying in America.  Jan Urban tells my class about being tortured in interrogation and how he was part of the Velvet Revolution.  Zdenek Kuhn, a Supreme Court judge and professor of law at Charles University, tells us about his case, his deciding whether the communist party should be abolished or not in CZ.  Marketa Rulikova, a sociologist who has lived in the Polish ghettos of Chicago to do research, tells us how her parents told her not to repeat what they said at the dinner table to anyone outside of their home because they didn’t support the regime.  I often leave class in a semi-trance as I am dumfounded and awe struck by the history of communism, global inequalities, and details about the history of law in Eastern Europe versus America and other western countries.  Not only am I learning about history, but also how things are now and how much of an impact the past has on the present.

Millions of people in Eastern Europe and innocents all over the world have endured horrific wars, tragedies of mass killings, inhumane conditions and torture.  I am studying only one situation.  It’s bad enough that this is our past, but I am saddened and am struggling to come to grips with the fact that this is still our present; that this still goes on around the world, and that America still partakes in it (Abu Ghraib, Guantanamo Bay, Iraq).  Haven’t we learned our lesson?  What I have learned in my psychology classes at Gordon, as well as from my classes in Prague, is that all people have the ability to fall to such insane actions.  Yes, Hitler was a bad man and was the leader of a mass genocide.  However, there is left the question of who is guilty.  What about the people who participated in furthering the communist party?  What about the bystanders who didn’t stand up against the regime?  What about the allies, including America, who stood back and watched millions of innocent people die?  I have learned about obedience, compliance to authority, denial, transfer of responsibility, and “duty.”  We are all vulnerable human beings who are easily manipulated, run away from embarrassment, and justify our actions in order to be right.  I have learned about identity: the loss of identity and the search for new identity.  I have learned about brainwashing and the dangers and consequences of the destruction of individualism under a totalitarian regime.  In the documentary of Abu Ghraib a prisoner says, “We heard his soul break.”  I have learned what people are capable of and it is still too heavy for me to really ask questions of why we are this way.  All I can do is pray for mercy and thank God for his grace.

After each lesson, encounters with Czechs, and from walking through the streets of Prague or the countryside, I feel closer and closer to the Czech people and my heart aches in response to their sufferings and their joys.  The end of the Czech national anthem goes as so, 

      And with a strength

      That frustrates all defiance,

That is the glorious race

      Of Czechs, 

Among Czechs is my home,

      Among Czechs, my home. 

Through all the occupations and suffering, the Czechs still remain, a people united by their language.  And I, a descendent of the Czechs have returned to the motherland and day by day am feeling more at home surrounded by my own.

Fixing Things

I was squatting down, doing my business in the bathroom and I just realized why there is water in the toilet -- It’s not only because it flushes out the feces out, but also it takes the smell away from whatever you digested. Problem solved.

 

Yet, in one incident, Americans thought it’d be best that they would replace the latrines (something that they were completely content with), with flushing toilets in order to promote “the quality of life” of an African province some time ago. Prior to this renovation, the water supply was low but ample enough to be lived on everyday. However, problems arose, apparently because the toilet has ironically flushed the water supply out to the point where water had to be rationed only to be used four days a week instead. But to my utter amazement, when I went to Israel this past summer (during the dry season), there are two buttons to flush out the excrement or whatever you did in the toilet. There is a big button and a little one; the big button to flush out the big one, and the little one to flush out your pee pee. Problem averted, right?

 

America thinks that it can solve just about anything and everything, looking for ways to the betterment of our living conditions, as if it is pitiful. Patents are formed, suggesting that we need this particular item, and our life was somehow worse before we even knew that this item existed. For example, the ShamWow (I pity the poor fellow in the commercial as he has become the laughingstock of infomercials in America).

 

The ShamWow apparently can hold up to twelve times its weight and be reused multiple times with its 10-year guarantee. I say it’s a sham for we can use torn garments to do the same job without waiting those 2-weeks for delivery. But whenever I see that commercial, I think to myself and I seem to justify that I MIGHT need it for the future (this of course, can stem from materialism and consumerism as well).

 

I would suggest that America has in itself, a sense of pride in fixing problems and this understanding that everything can be fixed. So when Americans and if I may add, westerners go abroad to help another developing country, we tend to implement our advices thinking that they are beneficial. We are not prideful when we do it; it is just society’s influence on us that causes us the want to fix things. And perhaps, this is our biggest vice. So, the question worth asking is,

 

Are we imposing some ideals and suggestions that are not necessarily better, and contrary to their philosophies and ideals?

 

Democracy in Afghanistan and Iraq at best, are called “works in progress.” Western thought, until post-modernity, included modernity and has taken over our understanding of philosophy and theology. However it is something incompatible with the Eastern thought. Thus, we are left in this impasse in our dialogue with others, and that is for two reasons.

 

First, some things just cannot be fixed. I think of Jack from Lost, who is told by his wife on her way out of the relationship, “you will always need something to fix,” when ultimately it is himself that needs to be fixed.

 

Secondly, our imposition of capitalism has debilitated other impoverished countries. Many times, self-interest outweighs the good in humanity, which concludes to say that I wouldn’t call the countries a developing one, for they will always be the footstools of the other power countries like America. Such a sad thought.

 

I leave you with no suggestions or solutions. I question our motives in why we help others and I wonder if things were at it was prior to our ideals were imposed upon. It is just sad to see that countries want to be like us but at best, they can only be mere servants to the owner of the mansion and will never be part of the family.

 

  Daniel Lee

Incarnation

It’s impossible in today’s world (even if it’s not as noticeable at Gordon College) to avoid interacting with people of other cultures—people who have grown up in a different environment, have a different set of values, and view the world in a vastly different way. Randy Kluver says in his essay, Globalization, Informatization, and Intercultural Communication, “In a globalized world, the political abstractions known as nations are becoming increasingly irrelevant, while the symbolic systems known as nations are continually in flux” (431). It would be ignorant for us, then, not to recognize both the driving values of other cultures and our own ingrained value system.

But simply to recognize these values does about as much for us as recognizing that the color of your roommate’s hair is a different color than your own.  These recognitions and the dialogues that lead to and result from them should serve a greater purpose.

As a graduating communications major, I hope to use my writing to further interfaith dialogue, especially between Muslims and Christians. Whether I end up doing this in the United States or abroad, it’s likely to involve both diverse religious beliefs and diverse cultural and national backgrounds. In this case, successful communication allows Muslims and Christians to really listen to one another, instead of simply preparing to respond.

Religion has gotten a bad name over the years because of its involvement in major world conflicts. However, if religions can work together to do some global good, maybe some of that stigma will give way to a recognition of the need for religion. Ultimately, though, this would involve both (or all) religious cultures arriving at a point where they view the life and beliefs of the other as a valid way of life, whether they agree with it or not. One of the most interesting analogies I’ve heard in service of this idea is the incarnation.

Sherwood G. Lingenfelter, provost and senior vice president at Fuller Theological Seminary, in his book Ministering Cross-Culturally presents Jesus’ incarnation as the ideal of cross-cultural participation. On first glance it’s a common concept that a lot of people would recognize—you adapt to the culture you’re trying to talk with. You become them.  But Lingenfelter emphasizes a more obscure facet of the process. Jesus was also divine. There were some things about his nature that he was not willing to compromise when coming into human form.

This may seem obvious, until you start to apply it. We have to fully know ourselves before any true dialogue can take place. This is more important in religious dialogue than in anything else. After all, any measure of “becoming them” in the context of faith is a scary matter. If we become them in a Muslim community, doesn’t that mean we’re losing some aspect of our own faith?

The solution to this, in Lingenfelter’s mind and my own, is to recognize our own values and where they come from. If we can’t see that some of our values really do stem from our faith, such as love and equality, while others are simply American values like individuality, fully participating in dialogue can be tough. Not only can we end up letting some values essential to the Christian faith slide, but we may find ourselves defending a value that isn’t at all essential to the conversation.

To clarify, my suggestion here isn’t that we put off religious dialogue until we carefully outline our beliefs and values, deciding which ones are expendable and which are essential. Quite to the contrary, I think one of the best ways to discover these essentials is through dialogue itself. We just need to be on the lookout for them.

This type of incarnation—knowing ourselves and putting ourselves in the other’s shoes— I think could do amazing things for our world. When we empathize with people different from us, we can find common values and work together with them, not simply look to tell them about Christianity.

Dawn Gadow

Kierkegaard and the Three Stages of Love

Prelude: Two Caveats

 

1)    The following is by no means an academic endeavor. I would call it a meditation, or perhaps a philosophical fragment. It is not the result of extensive study; This idea came to me while I was walking to the bathroom on the first floor of Jenks from the reference room.

2)    The relationship between my three stages and that of Kierkegaard’s is very superficial. There are several incredible similarities which might not be a coincidence, but which I have left unexegeted for the sake of brevity and time. I really should be doing homework that I’m going to be graded for.

 

The Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard had a doctrine that was later named the “Three Stages”. They describe three attitudes toward life; three ways of appropriating oneself to one’s own existence. Though they are not merely lifestyles, these stages determine the meaning and purpose of an individuals life as well as how they live it out. Since Kierkegaard was a Christian philosopher, he believed that the highest stage could only be attained by Christians. Here they are in brief:

 

Aesthetic Stage: The individual lives in immediacy. “At this level one lives entirely for the satisfaction of the moment in conformity with the expectations of the ‘crowd’” (Aiken). For the person in this stage, the highest goal is self-satisfaction, even at the cost of living an authentic, consistent life.

Ethical Stage: The individual breaks away from hedonism and conventionalism and aligns himself to a higher ethical ideal. In this stage, one realizes that there is an eternal, ultimate good and strives to live in accordance to it. Simply put, one discovers that “there’s something more to life than fun (or being really, really, ridiculously good-looking).

Religious Stage: At this stage, the individual realizes that the eternal, ultimate good is not a static system of ethical rules, but a real, living being. One discovers that “there’s someone more to life”. Thus one who lives in the religious stage lives in faith-upheld obedience to God. Since one’s commitment is to a living God, one must at times set aside social conventions (go against the flow), and even “suspend the ethical” for the sake of living in faith.

 

In light of the three stages, I propose that there are three stages in understanding love. Similar to Kierkegaard’s three stages, these three views of love define an individual’s attitude not towards existence, but towards other people and other things. Also similar to Kierkegaard, the third and highest stage can only be attained by an intimate, existential encounter with the real, living God.

 

Aesthetic Love: The aesthetic individual loves in conformity with the expectations of the crowd. He does not know how to think for himself, but only in accordance with the tides of popular opinion. Thus the only object of love the individual is capable of having is the self. There are two ways of living in aesthetic love:

1) The Camel: The lowest form of self-love. The individual bears completely the burden of social convention, loving whatever the crowd loves and enjoying whatever the rest of popular culture enjoys. (cf. Napoleon Dynamite, Tamagotchis, iPods, and Kanye West).

2) The Lion: Upon realizing that he only ascribes value based on self-love, the individual rears his head to break out of this pattern by reacting in total opposition to popular culture (cf. people who use Macs, Zunes, popped collars, and people who participate in the Facebook group “I don’t care how comfortable crocs are, you look like a dumbass”).

 

Soapbox interlude: Realize that no matter how hard you try, you cannot subvert popular culture! You’re either going with the flow or reacting against it; but no matter what you choose, you and your decisions are affected by it. So don’t love or hate products according to popular image. Be stronger than that!

 

Conditional Love (The Child): The individual has risen above convention and has “learned to think for himself”. In this stage, one learns to separate socio-cultural conditions for love from self-serving conditions for love. One ascribes affection to people and things not based popular image, but based on how they serve him (cf. people who use Macs). However, it is still not the highest actualization of love. Because it is conditional, one’s affections in this stage is still based on self-love.

Religious Love: In the highest stage of love, the individual finally breaks free from self-love. In this stage, one does not love something “for”, but “because”. Thus, one does not love for the sake of any of the object’s intrinsic attributes, but simply “because”.

What is the “because” that propels unconditional love? It is the unconditional love that God first showed to humanity through Christ on the cross. “We love because he first loved us” (1 Jn 4.19). The only way we are capable of truly loving others is by coming to grips with the reality of God’s love for us.

Kierkegaard said the opposite of love is not hate, but fear. The reason is because all other lower forms of love are driven by the fear of rejection. Acts of conditional love are done in order to attain approval from others. But only when one understands that God has already ascribed infinite worth to each human being can one finally be free from the fear of rejection. When one is free from fear, one is free from self-love. And only when one is free from self-love can one love unconditionally.

 

Postlude: A Homily

A baby bird will not learn to fly by the objective knowledge of its flying ability. It must take the leap of faith out of the nest and into the unknown. There, seventy thousand fathoms above the ground, it attains the experiential knowledge of how to soar. Likewise, the only way we can come to unconditionally love others is through an existential encounter with the gospel truth of God’s unconditional love for us, as manifest in the person and redemptive work of Jesus Christ. Objective, propositional knowledge of this fact is not enough, because it is not enough to transform one’s feelings of fear into feelings of worth.

Do you struggle from low self-esteem? You bet you do, if you’re still looking for approval through how you live and how you love. What you need to realize is that everything horrible you know about yourself…is true. And yet God still loves you! Live your life in reaction of unconditional love, not in search of it.

 

Sola Deo Gratia

 

Daniel Shih

Two by Two

Pacing beside the fields of this somewhere else;

to walk with weights tied about my hips

as a horse or some other animal of burden.

Why was I not an oxen-

birthed to be fat and happy,

dumbly discouraged from an education;

calmed by an electric wire,

buzzed into simulation.

Why was I not a bird-

fitted with air-filled bones,

heavy with feathers, puffed

with sensation;

the called out ones.

Or a candle-

stiffly holding shape under heat,

centered with a cord;

giving way slowly like a cat in water

gripping the raft, gripping the raft-

with every hope bent upon the

unkempt claws dug in.

Why must I be an

Orangutan,

a frumpish pear-shape with dwarfish arms

to drape stupidly over an uneven body,

inept for any use in propulsion?

stagnant in brains,

collared voice on a chain,

a sweet nexus altered.

Yet I find myself in the land of the living.

amongst models of seasons

amid an overwhelmed shelf,

between will-call;

an ink-stain of improperly removed

security devices blotting out

so much of my memory.

But an orangutan. The Orangutan.

The awkward body shuffle of a crowd

pre-destined to see a Holy Light-

looking forward; always forward;

always forward.

Always Forward.

isn’t it something:

never upward. 

Rebekah Jordan

Tirades from the Theatre

In the small but self important realm of Christian colleges there is a definite hierarchy to the majors. Those who chose to study the sacred, Biblical studies and theology majors, consider themselves at the top of the heap with business and science slightly beneath them. After them come the humanities. Philosophy gets the most respect because no one wants to argue with a baby philosopher. Next comes history and English because they will have no trouble getting accepted into graduate school. And finally at the very bottom of the heap are the students of the arts. 

I am a theatre major, and I am tired of all the condescension. I spend just as much time in the black box theatre as any chemistry major spends bent over a Bunsen burner. Yet, I am labeled academically soft and emotionally volatile. Therefore I will try to the best of my abilities to refute both these claims through a calm and logical argument.

A good deal of the condescension stems from the fact that in acting class we lie on the floor and find our inner pool of vibration. However, acting class is only one component of the theatre arts major. I challenge any history major to take theatre history as an elective and discover that we too know how to deal with cold hard facts. We have to remember dates, names, and places like the rest of you. And just as a history major tries to understand change over time, so does a theatre major. We strive to understand how the devastating loss of ideals after World War I contributed to the rise of Absurdism, and why the Nazis embraced Wagner and his passion for the masterwork with such a devastating misunderstanding. We struggle to make sense of the myriad of plays produced since the time of the Greeks in order to understand how they affected culture, and how in turn we may change our own. This is the same lofty goal towards which all students should struggle. The only difference is that instead of trying to advance science or gain a practical understanding of macro economics we are trying to understand how the average citizen responds to them.

One of the great purposes of theatre is to record civilization. Not things like the great building projects of Ramses and Herod for they will always be remembered. Instead we struggle to remember what is all too easily forgotten: the feelings and lives of the average citizen. As Thornton Wilder said in Our Town:

Babylon once had two million people in it, and all we know about them is the names of kings, some wheat contracts-and the sales of slaves. Yet every night the family sat down to supper, and the father came home from his work, and the smoke went up the chimney same as here. And all we know about them is the bits we can piece together from the jokes and plays they wrote for theatre back then”   

In a play we see what does not make it into a text book. No textbook will ever break our hearts with the story of a farmer in New Hampshire who lost his wife in childbirth. Instead it can tell us that the infant mortality rate was high at the turn of the century. History can give us facts, which the scientists can study and use to change the future. But theatre can tell us the stories that make up those facts. Without those stories we will lose what it means to be human. 

G.K Chesterton said that: “tradition is democracy extended through time”, as Americans we believe in democracy, just as we believe in progress. But in order to maintain both we must not forget those whose lives contributed to the statistics in our textbooks. This therefore is the purpose of theatre: to repeat what was said so that we can remember the dead, and to say what needs to be said so that we in turn will not be forgotten. It is with this aim that I pursue my degree.

With this exalted view of the theatre’s role comes the responsibility to understand what is actually going on around us. So I ask you to talk with me. Tell me about history, about chemistry, about the different ways of interpreting Genesis 6:1-4. I will listen. I love to listen. All I ask in return is that you grant a theatre major the same respect you would a Bible major. After all they will have just as hard a time finding a job after graduation. Possibly harder, because we have at least been taught how to listen. 

 Hannah Baker

 

Nietzsche and Moral Psychology

Moral Psychology is the study of the psychological conditions and preconditions that enable us to act as moral beings. Throughout history, most thinkers have been occupied with defining right and wrong, good and evil. Moral psychology inquires into the part of the human psyche that allows for these concepts to even exist. Thus, instead of asking, “What is right and wrong?” a moral psychologist would ask, “what do we know about human psychology that informs our understanding of right and wrong as well as our ability (or inability) to live according to those principles?” Traditionally, this branch of ethics has been dominated by a handful of philosophers, a club into which Nietzsche has only recently been included.

Of course, as Christians, this branch of study is immensely relevant to our theology, especially our understanding of the doctrines of sin and sanctification. In the reformed tradition, sin is universal and humans are totally depraved. “There is no one righteous, not even one” (Rom 3.10) means that humans lack the ability to live morally apart from the transforming knowledge of the gospel and the sanctifying work of the Holy Spirit. This is a radical claim and is a difficult one for non-believers to accept. Certainly no one likes to be told he or she is unable to be a good person apart from becoming a Christian. I am interested in identifying a moral psychology that would provide a naturalistic explanation for this doctrine.

In this article, I will very briefly outline the beliefs of four of the most prominent moral psychologists. I argue that of these four thinkers, Friedrich Nietzsche provides the most tenable system through which sin and sanctification can be explained.

 

The differences between all these moral systems can be boiled down to two issues: The nature of moral principles within an individual and how it motivates one to make moral decisions.

Some argue that the first moral psychologist was Aristotle. According to him, one makes moral decisions based on a “firm and unalterable character”. This character is a complex system of sentiments and emotional responses that determine how an individual acts in specific situations. In order to develop a morally positive disposition, one must practice making moral decisions in order to develop them into habits. These habits contribute to the individual’s entire life, allowing them to exercise proper emotional responses and to reflect intelligently on their inner motives. For Aristotle, the most important factor in developing a virtuous person is his or her childhood upbringing. Thus, one’s parents and childhood educators make the most difference in one’s moral training.

The great skeptic David Hume takes this a step further. He claims that moral nature doesn’t exist and all seemingly moral decisions are simply choices made out of emotion. For Hume, we have no inner moral nature; all our moral actions are motivated by our environmentally-produced psychological affections and aversions. In other words, there is no independently existing law of morality; all that matters in your determination of what is right and wrong is what pleases you and what disgusts you.

For Kant, moral law exists and it can be attained by pure reason. His famous Categorical Imperative (CI) is what he believes to be the universal law by which all rational moral people must live. The CI is obeyed by rationally reflecting individuals; moral motivation has nothing to do with an individual’s nurture or environment. If a person chooses certain actions out of habit that just happen to coincide with moral good, he did not actually make a moral decision. Rather, each time an individual is faced with a moral decision, he or she must choose the right one solely through his rational faculties. Kant calls this motivation the concept of duty.

Nietzsche’s moral psychology goes radically against any of the previous three thinkers. For Nietzsche, what is definitive in determining an individual’s actions is neither habit, emotion, nor reason, but hereditary psychological and physiological traits. He believes that the vast majority of the time people first behave in a certain way and then form moral principles to justify that. The primary determinant of each individual’s behavior is his or her unique genetic stamp, which give that person certain behavioral traits that are very hard to stray away from. Brian Leiter, a prominent Nietzsche scholar, summarized this in the “Doctrine of Types”, which states: “Each person has a fixed psycho-physical constitution, which defines him as a particular type of person” (Leiter 2008). Leiter calls this psycho-physical constitution a “type-fact” and it is a system of unconscious drives and instincts within an individual.

Of course, this is not to say that one’s upbringing and socio-cultural situation does not factor into his morals. There is a complex interplay of nature and nurture, but Nietzsche claims that nurture is far more important. This is backed up by most of the scientific data from the last few decades. It is surprising, but the fact of the matter is in recent psychology research, the idea that parental upbringing is a big factor in the moral development of an individual is going out the door. Nor is this doctrine claiming that humans are incapable of rationally reflecting on their actions. It simply states that most of the time we act first and ask questions later.

 

At first glance, Nietzsche’s claims may seem antagonistic towards Christianity. If our ability to choose right over wrong is already set in stone based on our genetic makeup, how can we have any hope for sanctification? Apart from a supernatural explanation involving the work of the Holy Spirit, it would be impossible for an individual to align his or her moral disposition towards that of Christ’s. Furthermore, how can we be held responsible for our actions, if they have been determined for us since the day we were born by forces beyond our control?

In addressing this last objection, Nietzsche does not claim that all a person’s actions are determined for him from birth in a fatalistic fashion. In fact, his writings scathingly denigrate the deterministic way of viewing the world. He believes that our actions are not primarily determined by rational reflection, but by our unconscious drives and instincts, which have been inhibited by our false conceptions of divinely-imposed moral law.

I think the fact that we are helpless in our genetic disposition towards moral wrong actually comports really well with the sin doctrine. Reformed theology states that in our actions we are completely unable to do good. This is scientifically tenable if we can show that our inability to do good is rooted in a universal defect in our type-facts. According to the reformed theologian Wayne Grudem, humankind’s fall into sin involves a fall in all dimensions of human life, including “our intellects, our emotions and desires, our hearts (the center of our desires and decision-making processes)…and even our physical bodies” (Grudem, Systematic Theology). If the center of our desires and decision-making processes is equated with type-facts, our unique set of behavioral traits, then a fall in that facet of our lives could explain the universal inability of all humans to live morally.

Given this explanation, there is still the difficulty of giving a naturalistic account of sanctification. Perhaps at this point it is appropriate to remember that as humans, we are limited in our intellectual capacity and that it is perhaps not inappropriate to say that the Holy Spirit works by supernatural means. After all, our redemption is not a redemption simply of our spirits, but of our entire bodies in Christ. If, upon accepting Christ as our Lord and Savior, there is a tangible change in our lives, perhaps the change involves a change in the plasticity of our type-facts, enabling us to make morally positive decisions and live “by the fruits of the Spirit”, so to speak.

I am particularly interested in Nietzschean ethics because I believe that it has much to add to our Christian understanding of ourselves and the of human condition . I believe that over history, the person of Nietzsche has been unjustly vilified in Christian circles because of his infamous claim that “God is dead”. Over the last century, his writings have been misunderstood, partially because of its difficulty and partially because of its (incorrect) association with Nazi doctrine. Through this mistreatment and the tendency to construct straw-man understandings of his claims, a Christians have largely left a wealth of deep spiritual insight unmined. It is my hope that we would be able to reexamine the thoughts of this intellectual giant, and use them to build up our spiritual understanding.

 

Sola Deo Gloria

Daniel Shih

Passion vs. Practicality

Passion…

Rolls smoothly off the tongue

With the whoosh of a three-hundred horsepower engine

With the unrestrained exhilaration of the battle cry

With the luscious sweetness of the lovers’ kiss

With the invincible tide of the orator’s words

With the slice of the wind turbine through crystal-clear air

Leaping,

Swirling,

Lifting one’s mind

To loftier clouds and unreached realities.

Practicality…

Clatters and contorts the tongue

With the squiggling of the graph of a stock’s value

With the clink of a coin in the beggar’s cup

With the Tacoma Narrows Bridge as it twists to collapse

With the grit of pioneers building lives in the wilderness

With that three-hundred horsepower emitting ample pollution.

Shattering,

Pressing,

Keeping one’s heart

Stuck to the narrow, burdensome track forward.

Passion and Practicality…

Where do they meet?

In the doctor’s decision of who should receive aid

In the basketball team’s strategy to win

In the confining words, “We can’t afford that”

In the need for financial donors and the need for those serving

In spreading the Gospel while meeting what’s physically lacking

In studying what one loves while considering life in general

Drilling,

Smoothing,

Aiming oneself,

To meld purpose and love in a way of life.

   Ben Skinner

 

Our Intercessor

Time is hidden in their wrinkles.
Vivid scarves, shoulder icons,
red and gold - worn thin.
They are the Bogomater herself
vigilant mourners
suspended at the edge of an end,
year after year - insistent.
Holy water trickles from their eyes
baptizing the children
lead innocently into this sacred place.

- Rebecca Horner

Perspectives on Pluralism, Universal Salvation and the Love of God

Universalism is the belief that after death everyone will have salvation no matter what their religion, denomination, actions, or beliefs. It is unorthodox in mainstream Christian churches because scripture seems to contain explicit passages about hell for those who have not “accepted Christ as their personal savior.” The idea of universal salvation has come into the foreground in recent years due to globalization and subsequent contact with those of other faiths. In the past, it was easy to dismiss other religions located across the world, but people can no longer ignore the plurality of religion. They begin to question the “unique” belief structure that their society has built: whose god is true? Would God send most of the world to hell because they were born in the “wrong” time and place or haven’t repeated a formula for salvation? What makes me more enlightened than other earnest people of another tradition?

 

Those who question the traditional doctrine of hell see the inconsistency between a God who is on one hand loving and on the other damning. The topic of universal salvation is hotly contested within the religious world. Eastern religions have no problem affirming that God is at work universally, in whatever tradition one is born into. They liken the religions to alternate paths leading to the same summit, or different lamps with the same light. Monotheistic traditions are more apt to hold on to the particularity of their religions; they believe letting go of exclusive claim on truth undoes the whole basis of their religion. Christianity uses three boxes to outline possibilities about the fate of non-Christians: exclusivism, inclusivism, and pluralism. Exclusivism emphasizes acceptance of Christ and holds that explicit belief in him is the only escape from hell. Inclusivism says Christ is the only Truth, but salvation is available to others in spite of their religion because God knows their hearts. Pluralism holds all religions to be equally valid paths to God; each contains part of the truth of the divine but not the whole puzzle.

 

The smartest theologians and philosophers cannot agree on the issue of universal salvation, yet it haunts us. People cannot reason their way to God without trusting their experience as well. The infinite cannot be placed in human categories or understood by finite minds, so it is ridiculous to base our opinions solely on “fact.” Those who want to build an airtight case based on the “facts” in the Bible forget that it was written from people’s human experiences of the divine! Every religion was born from an intimate encounter with the Beyond, and humans have gradually built belief structures around that encounter. If we don’t let the power of experience transform rigid belief, we deny the holy spirit’s ability to speak to us. The Bible is a collection of stories where God spoke to a person in order to bring change. There are scripture passages that both support and deny the universalism idea-- we could argue the point indefinitely. There does seem to be one repetitive theme amid passages about hell, however; God is love, is infinitely patient, and wills that everyone be saved. If he desires the salvation of everyone, I believe he will accomplish it. The other alternatives are God as executioner or God enslaved to a “divine justice system” where God wants to save us but is somehow bound by law. Many justify their belief in hell by claiming God gives humans the free will to choose their fate. He does not send them to hell. But in this model, death would have the final victory over God. We are allowed to reject God’s grace, but we cannot separate ourselves from his love. An analogy for this is a child who runs away from home. Her parents cannot take care of her, but she still can’t stop them from loving her. Once a person eventually grasps the depth of God’s love for them, it is nearly impossible to reject grace. Perhaps it happens in life, perhaps after death. When the crowd crucified Jesus, we rejected the grace of God. But God didn’t accept our rejection; he revealed in the resurrection that he has nothing to do with death or violence or the order of this world. He loves us enough to show us a new path of love and reconciliation.

 

Based on an experience of God I had recently, I am convinced that God does and will do the most loving thing in every situation, no matter what it may be. I am not convinced one way or the other about “doctrines” of heaven and hell; are they literal places? Perhaps hell is a place of refining, holy fire where the “false self” is consumed by God’s love. Perhaps it exists figuratively on earth in the evil we commit, in the times we reject God’s grace and in the painful process of being drawn nearer to the divine and further from selfish ambition.  In this model, salvation is fluid—a process of being humbled and called away from the things that burden our planet-- violence, war, and oppression. It is not an altar call or a single sinner’s prayer. Perhaps hell is exactly as traditionalists envision it, but without finality. It’s even possible that there is no afterlife, although that is hard to conceive. I don’t know for certain about inclusivism or pluralism either, only that God is bigger than we know, and his work is not limited by our human constructions of religion. God wills that all creatures come to a closer understanding of him, and works tirelessly like a shepherd searching for their lost sheep so that we might draw near. God does not discriminate against Greek or Jew, Christian or Hindu. His love covers all. I believe he whispers, “Come. Follow me,” so gently that eventually we want to, universally. 

  Sarah Grimes

The Wife

Resolutely she dropped

her clod of earth onto the coffin lid. A life

ended, not finished. Cut short before the work

could be completed. Now, she the Wife

must carry on, despite the stifling heat of day.

 

Gone is the sense of awe

at the sight of wealth and gold

like a fools paradise she watches as it fades away.

 

Down he sinks like a stone cast into the sea

soon invisible to the eye in the gently waving reeds.

Into that realm she will not follow; here among the known  

pleasures and petty pastimes of earth she must abide.

  Hannah Baker