Arrogance. That's the obvious objection. Overconfidence.
First, I believe the term "overconfidence" to be nonsense. You can no more be overconfident than you can be over-healthy, or over-accurate in your arithmetic. It is only possible to be "overconfident" in the sense of being mistaken, to underestimate the power of the opposition, as the South did in the Civil War.
As far as arrogance, it is not overconfidence. It is not confidence. It is insecurity trying to pass itself off as confidence. It is a lie.
Have you met truly self-assured people? I have. The mark of confidence is that the one who possesses it doesn't think about him/herself too much. In fact the confident person thinks of self as seldom as possible. When you meet a confident person, that person will want to talk about you. You will enjoy that person's company because that person enjoys yours. You will enjoy that person's company because you sense that person isn't out to get something from you. That person puts you at ease because that person doesn't need you. You will not feel put upon. You will not feel tired out from the conversation. You will feel energized. You will be tempted to glom on to the confident one, as one possessed of some kind of magic you want. You will probably not recognize the magic as confidence. But you will want it.
Ask yourself why would a self-possessed, self-assured, self-confident person drink to excess? Why do drugs? Why frequent pornography? Or prostitution? Or gambling? Why hurt people in any fashion? What would the self-confident need with such crutches?
No the antidote to arrogance is not punishment and berating. The antidote is encouragement, as early as possible. Children need correction. Once in a while, they need to be punished. But, as John Wesley admonished his preachers, "Preach ten words of grace for every word of judgment."
Friday, August 1, 2008
Toward an Ontological Ethic
Forgive me, I've always loved big words. "Ontological" means "of or referring to being". I simply mean your ethic, how you behave, flows from who you are. In the 60's, when we loved beautiful, schmaltzy poster sayings, we used to say, "What you do speaks so loudly I can't hear a word you say."(Ralph Waldo Emerson?) It's schmaltz at its smelliest, but it's also very true.
During my summer vacation, I've become borderline addicted to some TV shows they rerun during the day. My wife and I have watched several dozen episodes of "Homicide: Life on the Streets", "Frasier" (I was already partial to that one), and "Crossing Jordan". And I will miss them when school starts back next week. An episode of "Jordan" we watched yesterday really wounded me. It was about child prostitution. When our heroes rescued the Hispanic teenager who had been kidnapped and forced into this lifestyle, the young police detective wanted to interview her to try to capture the people who had enslaved her. He called her name and said, "Will you do something for me?"
She looked as if she were going to start crying, she huddled into herself, and she said, miserably, "Do I have to take off my clothes?"
I thought I was going to cry.
It hurt me because I know such things happen. People entice young women, girls, from underprivileged countries with promises of honorable work and a better life in the United States. The next thing you know, the girls are slaves, serving the lusts of American men. Some times the death penalty seems like a better idea than others.
Watching that yesterday has prompted me to sit down to this blog again, because I think I have a message that needs to get out. I am convinced that people don't do these things because of how good they think they are. I am convinced that people live up to, or down to, their self-images.
I was the best teenage boy you ever met. I was the poindexter all the mothers wanted their daughters to date. (Funny. None of them seemed to want to date me. They were happy to cry on my shoulders about the boys they did want to date! Ah, well...!) I didn't drink, I didn't smoke, I didn't do drugs, I didn't try to get the pants off the good-looking girls I knew. Don't get me wrong. I wasn't immune to temptation. I was curious. I seriously wanted sex. But I saw myself as a good boy. And I knew there are some things good boys don't do. It was a terribly difficult time.
I don't think I've progressed from that. I think I've regressed. I've learned self-indulgence. And guess what? Self-indulgence is hard too. It's hard to have lost so much of the self-respect I had 30 years ago.
I learned in seminary to be much easier on myself, and on others. That is good, to a point. Jesus, after all, did not condemn the woman taken in adultery. But what were his final words to her? "Go and sin no more" (John 8:11). He called it sin. She knew it was sin. He did not punish her for it. But he did not minimize it either!
When did self-indulgence become a virtue? How is self-indulgence that far removed from incontinence? An adult who cannot control most bodily functions is a person to be pitied. So why should we admire a man who cannot control his libido? Why don't we condemn as infantile people who cannot say no to themselves? We call children in that state "spoiled brats".
A few years ago I drove past a billboard advertising a club for "adult entertainment". Still tempted by such things, yet it occurred to me that a true adult wouldn't need such entertainment. The same sign called spoke of a "gentlemen's club". Gentlemen? How?
No, I am persuaded that we will behave up to our self-image. I do not believe that we will behave out of fear of punishment, entirely. We learn how to get away with things as little children. I am persuaded that we will live up, or down, to our self-image. There are things good boys don't do, and things good boys do. If we learn to see ourselves as good, perhaps we will behave better.
During my summer vacation, I've become borderline addicted to some TV shows they rerun during the day. My wife and I have watched several dozen episodes of "Homicide: Life on the Streets", "Frasier" (I was already partial to that one), and "Crossing Jordan". And I will miss them when school starts back next week. An episode of "Jordan" we watched yesterday really wounded me. It was about child prostitution. When our heroes rescued the Hispanic teenager who had been kidnapped and forced into this lifestyle, the young police detective wanted to interview her to try to capture the people who had enslaved her. He called her name and said, "Will you do something for me?"
She looked as if she were going to start crying, she huddled into herself, and she said, miserably, "Do I have to take off my clothes?"
I thought I was going to cry.
It hurt me because I know such things happen. People entice young women, girls, from underprivileged countries with promises of honorable work and a better life in the United States. The next thing you know, the girls are slaves, serving the lusts of American men. Some times the death penalty seems like a better idea than others.
Watching that yesterday has prompted me to sit down to this blog again, because I think I have a message that needs to get out. I am convinced that people don't do these things because of how good they think they are. I am convinced that people live up to, or down to, their self-images.
I was the best teenage boy you ever met. I was the poindexter all the mothers wanted their daughters to date. (Funny. None of them seemed to want to date me. They were happy to cry on my shoulders about the boys they did want to date! Ah, well...!) I didn't drink, I didn't smoke, I didn't do drugs, I didn't try to get the pants off the good-looking girls I knew. Don't get me wrong. I wasn't immune to temptation. I was curious. I seriously wanted sex. But I saw myself as a good boy. And I knew there are some things good boys don't do. It was a terribly difficult time.
I don't think I've progressed from that. I think I've regressed. I've learned self-indulgence. And guess what? Self-indulgence is hard too. It's hard to have lost so much of the self-respect I had 30 years ago.
I learned in seminary to be much easier on myself, and on others. That is good, to a point. Jesus, after all, did not condemn the woman taken in adultery. But what were his final words to her? "Go and sin no more" (John 8:11). He called it sin. She knew it was sin. He did not punish her for it. But he did not minimize it either!
When did self-indulgence become a virtue? How is self-indulgence that far removed from incontinence? An adult who cannot control most bodily functions is a person to be pitied. So why should we admire a man who cannot control his libido? Why don't we condemn as infantile people who cannot say no to themselves? We call children in that state "spoiled brats".
A few years ago I drove past a billboard advertising a club for "adult entertainment". Still tempted by such things, yet it occurred to me that a true adult wouldn't need such entertainment. The same sign called spoke of a "gentlemen's club". Gentlemen? How?
No, I am persuaded that we will behave up to our self-image. I do not believe that we will behave out of fear of punishment, entirely. We learn how to get away with things as little children. I am persuaded that we will live up, or down, to our self-image. There are things good boys don't do, and things good boys do. If we learn to see ourselves as good, perhaps we will behave better.
What's In It for Me?
When you try to force a square peg into a round hole, which finds it more comfortable?
When you try to force a square peg into a round hole, which benefits more?
Doesn't it harm both?
Do you believe that God created you? Do you believe God is great and good and loving and powerful? Then isn't it just possible that God did a good job in your creation, and that God has a pretty powerful and good will for you?
How does it serve God, or you, or anyone else, for you to be miserable? Isn't it just possible that there is a hole the perfectly fits the peg your are, and that you are resisting God's will, and hurting yourself and others by persisting in a life that makes you miserable?
The first week I was pastoring I felt guilty because I was enjoying myself so much! All my training had me convinced, emotionally at least, that God's will couldn't possibly be fun, that if I was enjoying myself I must be out of the will of God!
I'm still waiting for somebody to show me where that is in the Bible.
What if God, in creating you, revealed his will for you in the deepest desires of your heart? What if you can recognize God's will by what gives you the greatest joy?
When I studied ethics in college, I learned that hedonism makes a pretty good ethic, if it's applied properly. Follow me on this: hedonism is the pursuit of pleasure. But what is the greater pleasure, a long happy life, or an orgy of delight ending in premature death? Hedonism, properly applied, teaches that moderation in all things actually brings the greatest pleasure; that being a good neighbor will bring greater pleasure, being a good citizen, being a good spouse, being a good parent, even if, in the short run, they might bring some temporary discomfort.
Do you like to exercise? I don't. I love to eat what I want, when I want. I love to stay up late reading or watching my favorite movies, and sleeping without an alarm clock, getting up when I wake up. But I don't like being overweight. I don't like how I look or how I feel when I'm 30 pounds above where I should be. I don't like how I feel when I've sat around all day and accomplished nothing because I slept until nearly noon.
So hedonism teaches me that I'll be happier if I endure the discomfort, the displeasure, of exercise now, of an intelligent diet now, of a disciplined sleep schedule now, so that I may live a longer, healthier, happier, more fulfilled life.
One more illustration: The last five years I pastored, what kept me sane was singing with a fine organization, The Tara Choral Guild. For two hours every Tuesday night, I would sit in rehearsal working on very difficult music, shooting for perfection. I was frequently nervous, not entirely sure I was up to the challenge!
One spring we did Mozart's Requiem. I swear, I was still making mistakes in the performance. I never did get that thing to perfection. But my wife says it was the finest performace we gave in the years I was in the Guild. And I'm very proud of that performance, prouder of many easier things I probably performed better.
Spending that time weekly with fine musicians struggling for excellence was some of the greatest therapy I ever knew. The pursuit of excellence is not exhausting, it's exhilirating!
We sang in one of the finest auditoriums in the world, Spivey Hall on the campus of Clayton State College in Morrow, Georgia. But we had some problems with the staff at Spivey at that concert, and we decided not to sing there again. We decided we'd find some accomodating church who would let us use their auditorium. After working so hard on the Mozart, the guild decided not to do anything new the next season; they chose instead to pull out some things we already knew, and to take it easy for our next concert.
That's when I quit the Tara Choral Guild. As long as we were striving for excellence, I found great joy and healing in singing with them. But then they chose mediocre church music over excellence, well, I had better things to do with my Tuesday evenings. In the last years of my burnout with church work, I said, "We do mediocre church music here every Sunday! I don't need the Tara Choral Guild for that."
Do you get the point?
When you try to force a square peg into a round hole, which benefits more?
Doesn't it harm both?
Do you believe that God created you? Do you believe God is great and good and loving and powerful? Then isn't it just possible that God did a good job in your creation, and that God has a pretty powerful and good will for you?
How does it serve God, or you, or anyone else, for you to be miserable? Isn't it just possible that there is a hole the perfectly fits the peg your are, and that you are resisting God's will, and hurting yourself and others by persisting in a life that makes you miserable?
The first week I was pastoring I felt guilty because I was enjoying myself so much! All my training had me convinced, emotionally at least, that God's will couldn't possibly be fun, that if I was enjoying myself I must be out of the will of God!
I'm still waiting for somebody to show me where that is in the Bible.
What if God, in creating you, revealed his will for you in the deepest desires of your heart? What if you can recognize God's will by what gives you the greatest joy?
When I studied ethics in college, I learned that hedonism makes a pretty good ethic, if it's applied properly. Follow me on this: hedonism is the pursuit of pleasure. But what is the greater pleasure, a long happy life, or an orgy of delight ending in premature death? Hedonism, properly applied, teaches that moderation in all things actually brings the greatest pleasure; that being a good neighbor will bring greater pleasure, being a good citizen, being a good spouse, being a good parent, even if, in the short run, they might bring some temporary discomfort.
Do you like to exercise? I don't. I love to eat what I want, when I want. I love to stay up late reading or watching my favorite movies, and sleeping without an alarm clock, getting up when I wake up. But I don't like being overweight. I don't like how I look or how I feel when I'm 30 pounds above where I should be. I don't like how I feel when I've sat around all day and accomplished nothing because I slept until nearly noon.
So hedonism teaches me that I'll be happier if I endure the discomfort, the displeasure, of exercise now, of an intelligent diet now, of a disciplined sleep schedule now, so that I may live a longer, healthier, happier, more fulfilled life.
One more illustration: The last five years I pastored, what kept me sane was singing with a fine organization, The Tara Choral Guild. For two hours every Tuesday night, I would sit in rehearsal working on very difficult music, shooting for perfection. I was frequently nervous, not entirely sure I was up to the challenge!
One spring we did Mozart's Requiem. I swear, I was still making mistakes in the performance. I never did get that thing to perfection. But my wife says it was the finest performace we gave in the years I was in the Guild. And I'm very proud of that performance, prouder of many easier things I probably performed better.
Spending that time weekly with fine musicians struggling for excellence was some of the greatest therapy I ever knew. The pursuit of excellence is not exhausting, it's exhilirating!
We sang in one of the finest auditoriums in the world, Spivey Hall on the campus of Clayton State College in Morrow, Georgia. But we had some problems with the staff at Spivey at that concert, and we decided not to sing there again. We decided we'd find some accomodating church who would let us use their auditorium. After working so hard on the Mozart, the guild decided not to do anything new the next season; they chose instead to pull out some things we already knew, and to take it easy for our next concert.
That's when I quit the Tara Choral Guild. As long as we were striving for excellence, I found great joy and healing in singing with them. But then they chose mediocre church music over excellence, well, I had better things to do with my Tuesday evenings. In the last years of my burnout with church work, I said, "We do mediocre church music here every Sunday! I don't need the Tara Choral Guild for that."
Do you get the point?
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
The Seeds of This Heresy
It all started with C. S. Lewis. But doesn't everything in evangelicalism these days?
I was about 19 and my girlfriend's mother gave me Chuck Colson's autobiography Born Again for a birthday present. Mr. Colson gave a lion's share of credit for his conversion to Lewis' Mere Christianity. So I bought a cheap book entitled Three by C. S. Lewis, if I remember correctly, published with The Screwtape Letters and "Screwtape Proposes a Toast". As always, the stories hit me more deeply than the exposition, the parable more than the explanation. In other words, for all that I loved Mere Christianity, to this day I still prefer Screwtape.
In Letter XIV to his nephew, a young apprentice tempter named Wormwood, Satan's Undersecretary Screwtape expresses his love for the doctrine of humility, not true humility, but what most Christians have been mistakenly taught humility to be. Screwtape exults that "thousands of humans have been brought to think that humility means pretty women trying to believe they are ugly and clever men trying to believe they are fools."
Isn't that the way you were taught humility? And haven't you paid for it? How many times have you paid someone a compliment, only to be insulted? "Are you crazy? My hair's a mess, this dress is just about to go in the rag pile, and I just couldn't get my makeup right this morning?" Not only can she not accept the possibility that she looks nice, she must not only insult her looks, she must also insult you.
We have trouble dealing with our own gifts and talents, because the way we're taught to think of ourselves is sometimes a lie. And how can a lie glorify God? Earlier in the same letter, Screwtape writes, "The great thing is to make [humans] value an opinion for some quality other than the truth, thus introducing an element of dishonesty and make-believe into the heart of what otherwise threatens to become a virtue."
Now true humility, what God wants for his loved ones is:
to bring the man into a state of mind in which he could design the best cathedral in the world, and know it to be the best, and rejoice in the fact, without being any more (or less) or otherwise glad at having done it than he would be if it had been done by another. The Enemy wants him in the end to be so free of any bias in his own favour that he can rejoice in his own talents as frankly and gratefully as in his neighbour's talents--or in a sunrise, an elephant, or a waterfall. He wants each man, in the long run, to be able to recognise all creatures (even himself) as glorious and excellent things.
My wife has the most beautiful blue eyes I have ever seen. But why should she be proud of them? She didn't make them, she didn't special order them, she didn't choose them. Her beautiful eyes serve her no better than do my more ordinary-looking ones. And, worst of all, she can't even see them! She can see pictures of them, reflections of them, but her eyes' beauty does her no good. Why did God bother to make her eyes beautiful? Perhaps for those of us who can see them? Maybe he didn't bless her with beautiful eyes; he blessed US with her beautiful eyes!
I was about 19 and my girlfriend's mother gave me Chuck Colson's autobiography Born Again for a birthday present. Mr. Colson gave a lion's share of credit for his conversion to Lewis' Mere Christianity. So I bought a cheap book entitled Three by C. S. Lewis, if I remember correctly, published with The Screwtape Letters and "Screwtape Proposes a Toast". As always, the stories hit me more deeply than the exposition, the parable more than the explanation. In other words, for all that I loved Mere Christianity, to this day I still prefer Screwtape.
In Letter XIV to his nephew, a young apprentice tempter named Wormwood, Satan's Undersecretary Screwtape expresses his love for the doctrine of humility, not true humility, but what most Christians have been mistakenly taught humility to be. Screwtape exults that "thousands of humans have been brought to think that humility means pretty women trying to believe they are ugly and clever men trying to believe they are fools."
Isn't that the way you were taught humility? And haven't you paid for it? How many times have you paid someone a compliment, only to be insulted? "Are you crazy? My hair's a mess, this dress is just about to go in the rag pile, and I just couldn't get my makeup right this morning?" Not only can she not accept the possibility that she looks nice, she must not only insult her looks, she must also insult you.
We have trouble dealing with our own gifts and talents, because the way we're taught to think of ourselves is sometimes a lie. And how can a lie glorify God? Earlier in the same letter, Screwtape writes, "The great thing is to make [humans] value an opinion for some quality other than the truth, thus introducing an element of dishonesty and make-believe into the heart of what otherwise threatens to become a virtue."
Now true humility, what God wants for his loved ones is:
to bring the man into a state of mind in which he could design the best cathedral in the world, and know it to be the best, and rejoice in the fact, without being any more (or less) or otherwise glad at having done it than he would be if it had been done by another. The Enemy wants him in the end to be so free of any bias in his own favour that he can rejoice in his own talents as frankly and gratefully as in his neighbour's talents--or in a sunrise, an elephant, or a waterfall. He wants each man, in the long run, to be able to recognise all creatures (even himself) as glorious and excellent things.
My wife has the most beautiful blue eyes I have ever seen. But why should she be proud of them? She didn't make them, she didn't special order them, she didn't choose them. Her beautiful eyes serve her no better than do my more ordinary-looking ones. And, worst of all, she can't even see them! She can see pictures of them, reflections of them, but her eyes' beauty does her no good. Why did God bother to make her eyes beautiful? Perhaps for those of us who can see them? Maybe he didn't bless her with beautiful eyes; he blessed US with her beautiful eyes!
Monday, May 19, 2008
If this be heresy...
I was scared to death. Teaching a Sunday School class in a small southern town, I was scared. I hadn't slept well the night before. I knew what I had to say, and I was scared. And one member made me most nervous: Dave, a wonderful Christian man, conservative without being a fire-eater, gentle, humbly hard-working, the church lay leader, and the very man you want for your church lay leader.
Little churches start little and they stay little; and they stay little for a reason. How do you offer the love of Jesus to your community and never bring in at least one new member? How can you share Jesus' love without anyone, ANYONE responding?
They all think they are friendly, loving churches. And they are, friendly, and loving, to each other. Now, strangers on the other hand....
But this was a large church, a church with more than 1,000 members. Lately its community has undergone the transition from almost totally white to several ethnic groups. The "white flight" of the 60's continues. The big white churches shrink. It's getting harder to make budget, harder to pay for staff. The children's choirs are tiny, the youth choir is nearly extinct. The youth group, for that matter, is nearly extinct. The parents of the youth are becoming hostile and vicious, as if it were the church staff's fault. But still, a large church, large enough for diverse opinions, liberals and conservatives. And this is a great class, unafraid of controversy, unafraid of new ideas.
We started this class. We named it "Cheers", after the bar in the sitcom. We call it "the class where everybody knows your name". And we provide refreshments. We've loved this class.
Today I have to tell this class something that has been growing in my heart for months. It's something that is changing my life. I wish I had heard it when I was in my 20's. Now, in my 50's, it's hard to fight off the protests from other parts of my mind that I'm too old, that it's too late, that the habits of a half a century are too deeply rooted. But if my insight is right, if the idea hits you at 50, 50 is soon enough.
But this idea also flies in the face of so much that so many have considered so fundamentally Christian for so many centuries! Can so many have been that wrong?
Mark Twain pointed out that the story of Noah demonstrates conslusively that the majority can be wrong.
I launched into my lesson, working my way slowly to the point. I didn't have to talk too much. This class is great at discussion. If there's any problem teaching them it's that it takes some effort to keep them on the subject. And, truly, often we find more value off the subject than we could ever had gotten from what I had planned. I kept them going where I wanted. And finally I took the plunge:
"You've read John 14:12: 'Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father.' [NRSV] Do you realize that this means that, if Jesus did it, we can do it too?"
Breathlessly I waited for their response. I looked right at Dave.
And, slowly, soberly, as if he had already come to this conclusion himself, he nodded, looking into my eyes.
Little churches start little and they stay little; and they stay little for a reason. How do you offer the love of Jesus to your community and never bring in at least one new member? How can you share Jesus' love without anyone, ANYONE responding?
They all think they are friendly, loving churches. And they are, friendly, and loving, to each other. Now, strangers on the other hand....
But this was a large church, a church with more than 1,000 members. Lately its community has undergone the transition from almost totally white to several ethnic groups. The "white flight" of the 60's continues. The big white churches shrink. It's getting harder to make budget, harder to pay for staff. The children's choirs are tiny, the youth choir is nearly extinct. The youth group, for that matter, is nearly extinct. The parents of the youth are becoming hostile and vicious, as if it were the church staff's fault. But still, a large church, large enough for diverse opinions, liberals and conservatives. And this is a great class, unafraid of controversy, unafraid of new ideas.
We started this class. We named it "Cheers", after the bar in the sitcom. We call it "the class where everybody knows your name". And we provide refreshments. We've loved this class.
Today I have to tell this class something that has been growing in my heart for months. It's something that is changing my life. I wish I had heard it when I was in my 20's. Now, in my 50's, it's hard to fight off the protests from other parts of my mind that I'm too old, that it's too late, that the habits of a half a century are too deeply rooted. But if my insight is right, if the idea hits you at 50, 50 is soon enough.
But this idea also flies in the face of so much that so many have considered so fundamentally Christian for so many centuries! Can so many have been that wrong?
Mark Twain pointed out that the story of Noah demonstrates conslusively that the majority can be wrong.
I launched into my lesson, working my way slowly to the point. I didn't have to talk too much. This class is great at discussion. If there's any problem teaching them it's that it takes some effort to keep them on the subject. And, truly, often we find more value off the subject than we could ever had gotten from what I had planned. I kept them going where I wanted. And finally I took the plunge:
"You've read John 14:12: 'Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father.' [NRSV] Do you realize that this means that, if Jesus did it, we can do it too?"
Breathlessly I waited for their response. I looked right at Dave.
And, slowly, soberly, as if he had already come to this conclusion himself, he nodded, looking into my eyes.
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