Watch your language!

Paul:  We start this week with an item that I would rather not be bringing more publicity.  However, it was our gateway into discussing the week's topic.  Please know we are in no way endorsing or recommending this film.  We are merely mentioning it.  Although I have my suspicions that our demographic of blog readers is most likely not a group we really need to worry about in this case.

Someone within the scope of my vision on the vast Twitter wasteland mentioned a forthcoming remake or "reboot" of the 1980s "classic" horror film A Nightmare on Elm Street.  Off I went to Youtube and squandered 10 minutes of my life in front of two trailers for said film for reasons that I am now at a total loss to explain.  I had a number of reactions, many of them were horror for reasons I assume were not the ones intended by the film makers.  One reaction I had was surprise at how much of the material I was familiar with.  It seems to be a compilation of favorite bits from the entire Nightmare on Elm Street series (the angry mob burning the human Krueger, the children with that imbecilic numerical song-poem about Freddy, the hand in the bathtub, the amazing, invisible, levitating evisceration) reenacted by the same caliber of teenage actors as the original (minus any Depp) and a version of Freddy Krueger played by a new actor made to look more accurately like a burn victim (Robert Englund, the original Krueger, is somewhere in his mid-60s by now.)

Laurie:  Well, I'm ashamed (or should I say "proud"?) to say that I've never seen a single one of those films.  I outgrew my love for the horror genre a year or so before these came out.  The horrors that I had enjoyed were never human.  They were zombies, ghosts, sharks, monsters, etc. The idea of replacing monsters with human actors seemed to me then as they do now, 1) too scary by way of being far too possible and 2) too scary by way of knowing this might just be putting sick ideas in the head of someone who sitting just a row or two away from me at that very moment. In fact, I would likely have avoided dating anyone I knew to be into those kinds of films...

Paul: First of all, zombies and ghosts used to be human just like Freddy Krueger used to be human, but I understand what you're saying.  It's gone even further with the more recent fad of torture-tainment movies like the "Saw" franchise.  I would like to say I wouldn't have dated anyone who was into such things, but you've seen my ex-girlfriends.

Laurie:  Well, not to be difficult, but I don't believe in zombies or ghosts, and do am not afraid of what they might do to me.  I do, however, believe in humans...
 
Paul: "Wait a minute," I hear our readers cry, "why are we talking about this?"  And why do I, Paul Mathers, know so much about this?  Well, at the risk of sounding like a broken record, I would refer you to earlier posts regarding my mis-spent youth, although even I was a little surprised to discover how much of my brain is devoted to storing information about a series of slasher films, a genre that I've never liked.  The only explanation I have to give is that I spent a lot of my young years doing things I didn't particularly like or enjoy in the company of peers who at the very least pretended  they wanted to be doing those things.  Because people aren't exactly seeking out my company for my good looks.  In short, I was the textbook sucker for peer pressure.

So, it's another example of the stark realization of the many years I spent starving to death eating only Circus Peanuts while a nourishing and delicious feast was right in front of me for the partaking of.  Awakening to my jejune cultural diet was one of the key plot points and directional forces in my adult life.  Now I want to run down the street and grab people by the collar and shout "Do you realize Pride and Prejudice is so much better without zombies?!!?"   

Laurie: In the spirit of ongoing honesty, yes, that was the sound of me clicking the pronunciation tool at www.dictionary.com, while looking up the definition of "jejune".


Paul:  Now, more to my point, one could argue that the Nightmare franchise explored more varied and complex themes than other slasher films of its day (mind you, I am not personally making that argument).   They certainly didn't go into the rather Catholic morality of the Friday the XIII movies and did not quite hit the sadistic voyeurism of the Hellraiser films.  Instead they were firmly planted in post-Piaget, Spock, and Free To Be You and Me pop-child psychology, specifically exploring: neglect of children, fear, insomnia, mob mentalities and the destruction they cause, the long-term, far reaching effects of tragedy, cycles of abuse, cruelty to animals and the red flags that sends up in regards to a person's moral compass, perhaps one might say something about socio-economics in that Krueger was a lonely, working class janitor (the modern remake seems from the trailers to suggest he was falsely accused of child murder and killed as a scapegoat by bourgeois families in the area), and in the first and highly bizarre sequel (A Nightmare on Elm Street Part 2) Freddy seemed to be a manifestation of a young man's latent homosexuality.

Laurie:  Ah, sorry, I know I'm interrupting, but you skittered over a topic that's on my mind a lot: "cruelty to animals and the red flags that sends up in regards to a person's moral compass".  I can't tell you how often I've observed in the course of 4.6 decades how reflective one's treatment of animals tends to be of one's treatment of humanity in general, and of children in particular. I don't want to open that can of worms right now, but perhaps we could in a future discussion.

Paul: I think we might be able to work ourselves into a whole blog post over that.

But I want to say that what I said above about the varieties of themes the Nightmare films discuss is way overstating a case.  This is what is referred to as "egghead" discussion akin to writing a doctoral thesis on the social dynamics of the Three Stooges or the feminist view of Baywatch.  It's an unfortunate marriage between the high and low brow which generally neglects the former, the sign of a mind mired in the latter.  Unfortunately, such things are epidemic in the modern academic community.  It's the "I can't believe we're actually talking about this in this manner" conversation and, I'll admit, I brought the whole subject up to elicit that response from you.  I apologize for the emotional manipulation in my attempt to drive my points home.  As it were. Which brings me to my point.

Laurie: Ah, there is a point. I was just wondering.

Paul:  Well, I'll let you be the judge of that.

I'm not entirely sure people should be using the word "classic" in this case and it is now my intention to explore the meaning of that word.  I'm not sure it's appropriate to assign the same term one uses for Cicero, Robert Burns, and Goethe.  It is not a Joseph Campbell style, eternally recurring archetype expressing fear of the unknown and man's inhumanity to man.  Let's not kid ourselves.  It is a series of films designed to make teenage boys say "Whoa!  Didja see how she got killed there?!!?"  And, indeed, any such discussion of more complex social issues within the series I assure you probably comprises about a 30 minute block of film out of eight full length feature films of episodic surrealistically violent eye-candy.

And yet we do throw that term around lightly.  We have classic cars, classic cartoons, carbonated sugar water called Classic, whole radio stations committed to the eternal replay of what they call "classic rock and roll". 

Laurie: Well, I think the word "classic" has come to mean anything from Beethoven's Fifth Symphony to, well, the kind of thing you're talking about.  It has about as much range as the word "love" - (I love ice cream; I love Jesus; I love buttons, I love flossing my teeth, and I love you.) We really do seem to be suffering from a language dearth, and a bad habit of getting a word, falling in love with it, and, like an old 45 record, playing it over and over in every possible situation until it has lost its umpf and eventually its effect.   Anyway, classic can refer to Led Zeppelin, or to Huey Lewis - depending on who you ask.   It can mean "something so great, it has stood the test of generations". Or, it can mean "something that makes me feel nostalgic".  I think these days nostalgia is what most folks have in mind -  that is, whatever puts us in mind of "the good old days", which invariably translates into "the days when I had no real responsibility and was too young to know how bad things really were". (I've noticed, by the way, the time it takes for something to achieve "nostalgia" status is almost exactly two decades. Think Happy Days in the 70's, Vietnam war movies in the '80's, "'80's nights" in nightclubs in the '00's. It took 18-20 years before we could listen to the BeeGee's again without feeling ill, assuming we ever could in the first place.  Really.)

Paul:   Which is hardly "standing the test of time."

Along with "love" and "classic" one might add some other movable words like "life," "beautiful," "art," "genius."  All of those are thrown at a wide variety of subjects.  "Crazy" may fit the bill.  "Real life" or "reality" are getting a little fuzzy in some areas.  I would give a nod here to the many people reading this who I consider my friends whom I have never met in person and am not likely to.

But I wonder if this is good and wise to throw these words around so widely and undermine definitions.  Or maybe we're reaching the point where we might benefit from new, more specific words for clarification.  "Classic" does seem to carry some weight of qualitative judgment, but it's difficult to distinguish how.  I don't see people often calling something a "classic" if they hate it, even if it has stood the test of time.  Of course, "standing the test of time" is also becoming a movable definition.  I think a work should at least be old enough that if it were human it could collect Social Security before we consider whether or not we're going to call it a classic.  As it is, popular music that wouldn't even be old enough to buy cigarettes is being played on "Classic rock" radio stations.

Laurie: Oh, and that reminds me of that other definition of classic: old. Pretty much anything that was made in black and white gets called "classic", as does anything on vinyl.

Paul: Well, if we're talking definitions, there's also Classical in the sense of "in the manner of the Ancient Greeks."  But we're talking about the undermining of the association with excellence in the term "Classic."

But I think it would take a very rare person to put Wes Craven on the level of Beethoven. Some might say "apples and oranges", but most would probably agree that there is no need for future generations to be taught about Freddy Krueger in the classroom.  However, when something creeps into the collective consciousness and becomes a myth that we all share... But I'm doing it again, aren't I?  That egghead thing.  But believe it or not, there is a ripe, valid and valuable life lesson within plucking reach here.

Because we know about the very real, tangible power of language.  We know that at times and situations words can literally cure some diseases or at least curb pain, words can put people to sleep, words can cause people to fall in love with one another, to worship any number of things, to kill one another.  So, what happens to someone, or a society even, who can turn on one channel where a twee British man in a smoking jacket sipping 14 year old brandy from a snifter says, "Thomas Hardy wrote some of the greatest classics in the history of the novel form", and then press a button and an eyeblink later on a different channel  hear someone say, "Come on down and try our new dinner meal featuring Arby's classic roast beef sandwich."  Even if you've read Thomas Hardy and agree with the Masterpiece Theater guy and you hate Arby's sandwiches (or, at least, you're a vegetarian and won't eat them) that does something to a brain which I would think also does something to a society.

Laurie:  Hmm. You've brought something to mind..... Leveling. In the study I've been doing through Jonathan Edwards' lectures on Christian love, this week's lesson focused specifically on humility -  about love not being puffed up and parading itself and the like. One of the points Edwards made was that humility prevents "leveling behavior," meaning, true humility is happy to see true greatness recognized for what it is, and does not wish to see it brought low.  Conversely, it does not like to see what is ignoble raised up to greatness, and even more especially when it leads to the diminishing of that which is truly praiseworthy.  Love and humility are content to see everything great praised to the extent of its greatness, everything un-praiseworthy receive no praise, and everything in between regarded appropriately according to its true merit. Could it be, that what we are dealing with is a matter of arrogance - an unwillingness to evaluate things according to common standards of objective value and greatness, but rather to rank them by subjecting them to our own limited scope and understanding? In other words, "I have very good taste. I like it, and I've liked it for what seems like a really long time to me, therefore it is a classic." Everything becomes subjective. Everything means what I want it to mean, and has the value I place on it.

Paul:  This is what is at the heart of two of my most used phrases.  If you have a few conversations with me you'll inevitably hear me say either "Doctrine dictates lifestyle" or "Morality is not a movable feast" or both at some point.  So often we see words twisted to where hate is done in the name of love, war in the name of peace, selfishness in the name of compassion.  At the risk of opening a fresh barrel of worms here as we're trying to wrap up, oftentimes there is some guru, some twisted individual behind these twistings with an agenda, or at the very least a book to sell.  Cui bono?

Although not always.  Sometimes it's just the key symptom of an ailing culture as we see in the case of people who are willing to bring Caravaggio down and the Arby's roast beef sandwich up to the same level with a word.  If anyone's interested, I would prescribe very scant use of the word "classic" and instead stretch your vocabulary to employ words like "excellent."

Laurie: Or "lovely", or "delicate", or "carefully crafted", or "timelessly beautiful", or "worthy of emulation"....boy, my vocabulary needs work.  I'm more a product of the age than I care to admit. My first thought when you handed me the Cadbury Creme Egg just now was, "Ah, a classic!"

Paul: Whereas, were we being precise, which it is my argument that we should be, we would say "I find this to be excellent and it has stood the test of time!"  We say "Ah, a classic" because it is expedient, although if the word becomes diluted enough it ceases to have any meaning at all.  This importance on precision and sticking to actual meaning carries into all parts of our lives and characters. 

Laurie: Yes, it does. You know I'm a stickler for precision in language.  One thing that really drives me bats is ambiguous language, and even more so when someone (perhaps that guru you mentioned earlier) uses it intentionally to deceive, mislead, distract, or confuse. I've found such language used commonly in doctrinal statements of ministries.  I've heard it from the mouths of door to door cult recruiters. I detest hearing, for instance, the use of the word "grace" by a person who is trying to tell me how to earn it.

Paul:  Yeah, no kidding!  You want to talk about nightmares, I can think of little worse than if God required us to earn our salvation.  Nothing could be more hopeless.  Thank God for His undeserved grace.

More discussion of babies and bathwater

Laurie: Paul, I envy you the cleanness of your conversion....I'm not sure envy is the right word, but I think you'll get what I mean.

I started off Lutheran. I mean that's the denomination with which my mother affiliated us, and those were the schools I went to growing up. That's the religion I was told I was, and I never questioned that. I memorized the Apostles and Nicene Creeds, the Ten Commandments, the 23rd Psalm, John 3:16 and Romans 6:23, most of the Lutheran Liturgy and likely every hymn penned by Martin Luther himself. I believed every word. I mean I never doubted that mine, Christianity, was the right religion. Then, at age 17, I got converted to a different brand of Christianity, Word of Faith Pentecostalism. They said my Lutheran church was a "dead denomination". My new brand was "spirit-filled" - "alive". They showed me how to speak in tongues, how to speak faith (and whatever else I thought I was entitled to as a child of the King) into existence through repetition of promises from the Bible, how to nit-pick the sins, demons and stumbling blocks which blocked the power of the spoken Word of God from fulfilling the promises I'd been claiming. If my prayers weren't answered, or the promises people prophecied over me, or the things I'd been claiming by faith didn't come to pass - or if bad things happened to me - I was to blame. It was either my failure to keep my faith properly built up, or I'd let the devil in some how, some way. I learned, thank you very much TBN, that if you played the devil's music backwards it would sound exactly like Led Zeppelin's Stairway to Heaven, and the Eagles, Hotel California, too. If TBN had heard of Parliament and Earth Wind and Fire, they'd have assured me that was of the devil too. Wait a minute...now that I mention it, I'm pretty sure they did mention Earth Wind and Fire, since their most recent album of the time was covered with ancient Egyptian symbols - but I know they'd never heard of funk. Anyway, all secular music was a potential demon portal.

Paul: And here all these years I thought that was Arnold Schoenberg's music.

Laurie: Perhaps you should hyper-link Arnold Schoenberg. So I can find out who he is.

Paul: Yeah, you see, you think you want me to do that right now, but... Oh, all right. It'll make an appropriate soundtrack for people to listen to as they read what you're about to say. But I'm also going to link to this science story which talks about how Schoenberg and his types are part of why no one can (or does) listen to modern classical.

Laurie: Anyway, thousands of dollars worth of vinyl went out with the Tuesday trash. I'd have set fire to it, but I was afraid to hear the demons' shrieking which I'd heard sometimes accompanied such burnings....No doubt there were a few records that deserved that treatment, maybe there were a couple of Osmond records left in that collection, but otherwise, well, I feel ill at the memory of such ridiculous waste.

My mother fell into the same brand of church as I did, just a few months after me, though I had nothing to do with it. Her demon portals were frogs, owls, wine coolers and colas. There were no doubt more, but those are the ones I can remember. She had the cutest collection of kitchen canisters with the cutest, happiest little frogs on them, and nifty '70's macrame owl art, all of which she learned were satanic symbols, all of which had to go. Allowing such things in the house was like hanging a welcome sign to the devil.

Paul: Before you go on, why are frogs and owls evil? Says who and where are they getting their information? I get the wine cooler thing.

Laurie: Hmmm, well, you're getting this from me three decades later, and at least third hand, but as I recall the frog thing had to do with Rev. 16:13: "And I saw three unclean spirits like frogs come out of the mouth of the dragon, and out of the mouth of the beast, and out of the mouth of the false prophet." As for owls, I really don't know, except maybe because it's nocturnal, and one of those critters, like black cats, that is sometimes associated with Halloween. The thing is, once my mom heard such a suggestion, she could no longer rest. The superstition and fear associated with these belief systems can be pretty powerful.

Paul: Clearly.

Laurie:  So, together, or at least in parallel fashion, Mom and I were learning about the Rapture, the Anti-Christ, the great Tribulation (remembering to always keep them in that order), Christian bookstores, Ken Copeland, TBN, Christian music, prophecy, word curses, a 6000 year old earth, the power of the spoken word, the threat of secular humanism, the "new age movement", and myriad forms of legalism. My mother was already a Republican, and so was I, again, by association, so we did not have any adjustments to make there. "Our" politics were permitted to remain intact. In short, we were indoctrinated to the Christian sub-culture, or at least one corner of it. I can't speak for my mother's heart back then, but I can definitely say for myself that, other than the trappings, I was the same person; nothing had changed for me, except the rules. I was not kinder, gentler, more patient. I was not holier, although I was "holier than thou".

Paul: I think one of the more disturbing elements that I run across so often in Christianity is when Christians tell other Christians that they shouldn't look at, listen to or associate with anything that isn't specifically in their official Christian idiom. "Look for the Christian label." Usually this is the sort of thing one hears especially from more cultic circles ("don't listen to anyone else's interpretations") which kind of amazes me that any vestiges of that mindset remain in more solid Christian circles. I mean, the whole phenomenon of "throwing away all of your secular music" at conversion is a manifestation of this same separationism. I know from personal experience that when I would bring a book with me to church, some people would expect an explanation when I wasn't reading something from the Christian bookstore. Especially if I were reading Christopher Hitchens or Nietzsche or something distinctly anti-Christian (not that that would stop me, mind you.)

Laurie: Exactly, and nothing ever has stopped you, thank God.

Truth is, I don't remember how I learned these rules. It wasn't as if someone sat me down and gave me the lecture. You pick up on it piece-meal - in sermons, passages in assorted books, and disapproving looks. Always having been both a reader and (until about 5 years ago) a TV watcher, I'm sure I picked up most of it in the Christian bookstore, and through TBN. You'll gather here, that I've yet to mention having learned a whit of this from the Bible - though there are verses used here and there to back all of this up - verses like 1 John 2:15, "Do not love the world or the things in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him." But the problem is, these Scriptures would be used so selectively as to render them meaningless. I mean, how is it you can preach that verse to mean I ought not have a glass of wine, or listen to secular music, but out of the other side of your mouth preach that God's people where meant to be healthy and wealthy, and that it's a better witness to outsiders if you have a BMW than a beat up Pontiac?

But, back to my little narrative: I had acquired a set of rules which made me feel quite spiritual and secretly a bit superior, but only for as long as I could keep them. I was exactly the same person as I'd been before, and it was only a matter of time before the excitement over being able to speak in tongues, and my new "discoveries" waned and began to be crowded out by my old excitements. You know there are a lot of great big plot points I'm skipping here. Along with all this, I witnessed a lot of garbage being done in the name of Christ, which I, even in the pathetic spiritual condition I was in, sensed was wrong as wrong could be. I gave up on church for years, went wild, got in a boatload of trouble which left me as a single young mother deciding that if I wanted life to go better for me I should start trying to "live like a Christian" again. So, first thing I do, besides going to church again, was...wait for it....I sold all the records I'd accumulated during my waywardness. Good-bye Billy Idol (everybody knows that the FFF acronym of, Flesh For Fantasy, really stands for 666); good-bye Cult (too obvious); good-bye Tears for Fears (they were into psychology); good-bye Smiths (vegetarians); good-bye Love and Rockets (spiritual sounding stuff I didn't know the meaning of); good-bye Prince (need I explain?)....

Paul: And I bet they were on vinyl too! We could have paid off our mortgages with some of those.

Laurie: Yes, vinyl....and all in protective plastic sleeves...

...and there was a lot more...some of which, admittedly I still would not listen to today - I hardly listen to music anymore anyway - but which I might get a kick out of looking at from time to time.

And, again, I was still the same person, trying again to live by the Christian rules, thinking that is what it means to be a Christian. During that particular iteration, someone gave me a book. I don't remember who gave it to me, but I remember the book. It was called "Grace Plus Nothing". It's message was that God's grace was sufficient to save us. Our works did not gain us favor. I only read far enough to get that point and threw it away thinking, "What a load of crap?" At this point in my life, following rules seemed easier.

Paul: Easier than free, undeserved grace?

Laurie: Maybe "easier" isn't quite what I meant. More like sensible, logical. I mean nobody gets something for nothing, right? You have to at least try to repay the debt, right? God forgives those who try real hard....What's that verse in the Bible? Oh, yeah, "God helps those who help themselves!" What?

Okay, that's Ben Franklin.  But he was an American, so that must mean he's a Christian, right?

So, where was I? Okay, 1992, I had little kids after all; my wild days were over. But then I fell into a different kind of legalism - the kind that goes through the Bible verse by verse converting everything in sight into a system of rules, really spiritual rules. On top of the rest, now I was supposed to not lust in my heart, always make the best choices, listen for the "voice of God" in every decision, "avoid every appearance of evil" which I was told meant, whatever anyone else could construe my actions to mean. So, for instance, I was not supposed to wash my boyfriend's laundry - because someone might find out about it and think we were having sex. I'm not making this up. I began to be overwhelmed with guilt. I couldn't even look at my Bible without a sense of dread. So I put it away until I was 40 years old - a whole marriage and divorce later.

But here's the thing, all those years, I thought the people who were able to pull off the "Christian life" were able to do it because they were good Christians. Now, don't get me wrong, some of them were, but what I later found out was that an awful lot of them were just, for whatever reason, a whole lot better at following rules. A lot of them just did well with that lifestyle. I, on the other hand, could never pull it off. And then it happened. At the age of 40 I really got saved. I really realized I was hopelessly lost in sin, that I really needed a Savior. But it wasn't just that, I realized, for the first time in my life that God was kind and loving, and that He really loved me. Suddenly, for the first time in my life I loved God. I was really a Christian - or at least I desperately wanted to be. I wanted to love God like that all my days, and die trusting Him and spend forever with Him. I didn't want to waste any more of my life, not one minute of it. So guess what I almost immediately did....nope, I didn't get rid of my music (that was one thing I wasn't going to do again); I got rid of hundreds of books. Now, understand, there were some things in my life that really did need to go, like the almost 12-pack of Bud Light I drank every night after work, and the Marlboros I smoked like a chimney....but books?! I didn't just get rid of the junky novels, but classics too, just because they weren't "Christian". It wasn't long before what had started as joyful love for God began subtly morphing into legalism. I didn't feel it happening, because it felt so good, at least for a while....I never have been any good at following a system.

And then you came along, Paul.

Paul: Yes, and I was getting saved at about the same time you were. I didn't get rid of almost anything, although I had years of awkward experiences with fellow Christians. And to this day most of my closest friends are not Christians.

The thing about me and Christianity is that I would not by any means be a Christian were it not for one thing: The Gospel. I am fully convinced of The Gospel. If I weren't, there is no way I would be a Christian. I would probably be a Buddhist or one of the neo-Atheists. One of the silly ones with with Flying Spaghetti Monster fish on their cars. The Christian accessories hold no attraction for me and, at the risk of getting more hate mail, the official Christian political party doesn't strike me as having particularly Christian attitudes.

The Gospel is the only thing keeping me a Christian. 

Laurie: And that is what I meant by the "cleanness" of your conversion. Because of the Gospel alone you became a Christian, and because of it you remain one.

Paul: Which seems a little strange to me as what you're talking about, what you're saying is "the cleanness" of my conversion, is probably the thing about me that I receive the most consistent criticism for in Christian circles.

Laurie:  Which is what exactly?

Paul:  Which is that I'm out of costume, character, uniform, whatever. 

Laurie:  Yeah, and that's a really, really sad thing.

But the truth is, it's the same for me, and for anyone else who is truly a follower of Christ - I mean that the Gospel and the Gospel alone is why we are what we are; but the purity of faith in Christ can get so cluttered up and so quickly confused with all the extra stuff we are taught to attach to it, or by the stuff we hope to gain by it. We end up putting on the "uniform" because it's what's expected, and then it becomes all about keeping up the appearance of the uniform, which was never required in the first place, and what's underneath gets forgotten. I guess it shouldn't come as such a surprise really. As long as there has been a Gospel, there have been people eager to pervert it with rules and regulations and use it to temporal advantage. As the apostle Paul said in his letter to the young church at Galatia:

"I am astonished that you are so quickly deserting him who called you in the grace of Christ and are turning to a different gospel - not that there is another one, but there are some who trouble you and want to distort the gospel of Christ...." (Gal.1:6-7)

When I really began to get to know you well, Paul, I actually had some concerns about you, about your lack of legalism - although I wouldn't have put it that way. I thought of it more as a lack of spirituality. I'd see your Grateful Dead t-shirts, your CD's, and videos, and all those books you love so much. Very few of these things bore the Christian label. And, for Pete's sake, you aren't even a Republican!

Paul:  No, I'm registered with the Peace and Freedom Party if anyone wants to know. They've run a Black Panther, a socialist economist, and Dr. Benjamin Spock as presidential candidates before.

Laurie: Well, fortunately for you (I guess) you hadn't gone that far when I was getting to know you. You were just a Democrat (just! haha!) I wasn't really sure it was possible to be a real Christian and not be a Republican until I got to know you. I also had a hard time understanding how you live a life so free of guilt (as if guilt were the sign of a true Christian). I'd been guilty of thinking that feeling guilty is the necessary penance for sin - that the more guilt-stricken I felt, the more repentant I was. When I didn't see you walking around feeling guilty over every imperfection I was puzzled. But the more I knew you, the more I realized that your faith was real and true -  that you were freer of guile or hypocrisy than anyone I've known.

Paul: Well, the guilt manifested in acute regret before you and I were a couple, which I came to understand was unhelpful.  With Christ's imputed righteousness, I'm free in God's Grace.  Also, a much more helpful goal for me has been aspiring Godward rather than feeling guilt and shame over my blazing, glaring missteps on the road to sanctification.    

Laurie:  You are a Christian because of Christ alone. You remain a Christian because of Christ alone. Your faith in Christ lends grace and beauty to the rest of your life. You live a holy life, but it's nothing like what I thought a holy life was supposed to look like. You, my husband, are a friend of sinners. Imagine that- a Christian who's a friend of sinners!

Paul:  That's very kind of you, but I assure everyone out there that I occasionally have bad manners as well.  There's nothing good about me outside of the grace of God and the wife He's given me.

of babies and bathwater

Paul: I want to talk for a minute about a specific formative experience in my young life, and maybe Laurie can help me focus my brain on this subject. But in order to do so properly I need to first introduce our readers to Young Paul Mathers. I don't talk about Young Paul Mathers very often, mainly because I don't like Young Paul Mathers very much. I'm sure the feeling would be mutual.
Young Paul led a dissolute life. I drank heavily and pretty much constantly, I smoked almost as much, I recreated with drugs and had a lot of sexual relationships, some in which the relationship was little else and lasted only about as long as that took.

Laurie: I noticed you've switched to the first person midway. I think I preferred thinking of Young Paul Mathers as "him" rather than You.

Paul: Me too, but I don't have that luxury.

Now, I'll get to some of the "why" of this behavior in a moment, but that sets the stage for a specific moment, one of the rare specific moments from that period of my life that I can remember clearly.
You see, I was also somewhat of a hypochondriac, although not enough of one to actually do anything about it. Not surprisingly, I was terrified of death, but totally unwilling to change any of my behavior to avert it. So I lived in kind of a horrified state over the behavior I was willingly engaging in. The intoxicants helped blur that horror into a jaded apathy.

Laurie: Sorry to keep interrupting, but I can't help but think here how much Young Paul Mathers reminds me of Young Laurie Mathers (only I wasn't a Mathers back then), even down to the secret hypochondria.

Paul: At this particular moment I was in bed recovering after having been sick with the 'flu, which sent me into a panic, because every time I got sick I was convinced that this was the time the blood work would come back to the doctor with the death sentence of "Positive."
And I remember laying there thinking about my life that far, some of the better aspects of it and some of the worse. I lay there and thought, "It is time I stopped wasting my life." By that I did in fact mean I needed to stop living in utter decadence and depravity. But there's an important point here which made me bring up the whole dreary story in the first place. Yes, this was when the intoxicants and skirt chasing stopped, but I remember mainly thinking, "You need to stop reading books about vampires, watching cartoon sit-coms, listening to the same 3 minute rock and roll songs again and again. How many hours have you wasted watching Gilligan's Island? You don't even like Gilligan's Island! You need to stop filling your eyes and brain with crap." I remember this indictment against myself vividly, "You haven't even heard all nine of Beethoven's symphonies in your 20 some years and yet how many times in your life have you heard... in fact I bet right now you could sing all of Wishing Well by Terence Trent D'Arby." Because if I lived 1 or 5 or 70 more years, I should not be squandering my time, my mind, and all of the vast riches out there for the taking. There was knowledge, art, depth and the exploration of meaning, the highest aspirations of humankind, all which in our modern age of miracle and wonder are pretty much available for free to anyone who would seek them out. This is about the time I moved into libraries.

Both the self-destructive, pleasure-worshiping behavior as well as the filling my mind with pop-culture bubble-gum junk were symptoms of the same spiritual condition. Which is to say disengaging, numbing one's self. From that time on, not always successfully but always intending to, I tried to engage, to grow and learn more about the world around me, in short, to give a crap about things. Since then, I have little tolerance for cynicism, sarcasm and kitsch. I want to fill my brain with greatness in hopes that it will come spilling back out.

All of which could sound kind of snooty and elitist, which I guess it would be if this were what I was proselytizing specifically. Hopefully our readers by now will have caught on that this is a post about the value of fine arts about as much as the last post was "about" vegetarianism; which is to say hopefully it's about a lot more than that.

Laurie: Funny you should mention that. Our last post had, in my mind, so little to do with vegetarianism that I was a bit taken aback by the response to that aspect of the discussion. The vegetarian bit was meant to illustrate something much bigger.  It's put me in mind of that business in the book of Acts (chapter 10), Peter's vision of refusing to eat unclean meat, in which God tells him, "What God has made clean, do not call common."  I've heard pastor after pastor use that as the proof-text that we Christians can eat pork and lobster.  Although I do not disagree that meaning is included there, it is hardly the point.  The true point becomes clear a bit later in the story, when it came time for Peter to share the Gospel and welcome gentiles into the kingdom of God. He, discerning the higher meaning of the vision, said to them, "You yourselves know how unlawful it is for a Jew to associate with or to visit anyone of another nation, but God has shown me that I should not call any person common or unclean." The Gospel to the nations is a much bigger deal than the eating of pork!


That said, I'm really looking forward to your bigger deal here.


Paul:  I mean, yes I do think people should turn off the 24 hour television "news" networks and turn on NPR instead, or that people should stop reading The Shack and read Till We Have Faces instead. As Auntie Mame said, "Life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death." I would recommend engaging with the world and finding passionate interest and curiosity to anyone anywhere. I would also highly recommend flossing as a very good idea.

Laurie:  C.S. Lewis, NPR, and floss!

Paul:  I could make a few statements here about how if one becomes engrossed in the Ring Cycle of the Nibelungen, it is highly unlikely that one will turn to a life of gang violence. Or that crack cocaine severely retards one's chess game. Granted, there are limits on what a life of passionately seeking continued self-education can do (I can testify that it does not guarantee wealth. As a parenthetical, one of the Hollywood conventional cheap short-cut stereotypes I detest most is the use of classical music to indicate the decadent wealthy. One of my favorite breaks from this convention is in the Charles Bukowski film Barfly in which the flophouse indigent drunkard wants nothing more than to listen to Mahler), but I think I would be willing to stand by the statement that it does improve a person. I think I can confidently say that continued self-education would make the world a better place for everyone.

Now, I understand what this sounds like to the theologically minded in the audience, but stick with me here. I'm going somewhere specific. This is not my point of conversion. This is not my spiritual awakening. But, in a way, it was sort of a predecessor to that, a groundbreaking that would lead to that foundation being poured a few years later. Because what I'm describing here did not go away at my conversion, in fact if anything my conversion confirmed it, fulfilled it, brought in the meaning behind it all. Not to say that one necessitated the other or even directly lead to the other, but the conversion did not annihilate the passion for the auto-didactic life. In my case I found that it strengthened it. As I feel it should be.

Laurie:  I've always been really kind of amazed, and saddened, at the difference between your conversion and mine in that regard.  I'd spent years in and out of a variety of churches before my rather late-in-life conversion.  I'd been exposed to next to nothing but legalism, and, having never been the possessor of a modicum of self-control prior to conversion, really thought that the ability to "live by the rules" or "act like a Christian" was the sign that somebody really was one. So, when I came to love Christ I thought, "I'm done wasting my life. Now that I love Him, I'll do anything for Him!  I CAN do anything for Him! I'll give up everything except the Bible and a few spiritual books. " And I pretty much did just that. I got rid of hundreds of books (Many of them were trash, and should never have been read in the first place, but MANY of them were classics.) I gave up all media except Christian radio - not the music (I never could stomach the stuff) - just the sermons and talk programs. This served me well for a time, but, eventually, it became legalism and a source of pride. It also stunted my imagination and my ability to relate to others. They would say "I love ice cream!" I would respond, "I love Jesus!"  Not really, that's kind of a standing joke in Casa Mathers, but I was nearly that bad.

When you really love someone, you don't just want to stare at them non-stop.  You want to know them, what they think, and enjoy all the things they enjoy, experience life together with them.  My life with Christ had become a bit of a stare-fest. I tried so hard to keep staring at Him, fearing I would lose Him if I blinked or looked away for a moment. His beautiful creation was lost on me.  All His great works, and the wonders of humankind (albeit flawed) created in His image. All the great machinations of history, in which He displays His sovereignty - all were lost on me. Until you came along, Paul, and reminded me of my security in Christ and the freedom that is in the Gospel.


Paul: Yes. When you first fall in love with someone, if it's really abiding, there's a point where you stop just sitting around staring at them and desire to share your life with them.  All of your life, and all of who you are, and all of who they are.  Either that or, in my experience with relationships, once you get tired of staring at them, you dump them.  I have seen many people do that with Christ.  "Chasing the dragon," I think is what they call it in heroin circles.  Flying from one thing to another to try to keep that initial rush instead of working to maintain a relationship.

Laurie: Exactly, except, even though I get what you mean, I'm a bit uncomfortable with the term "working to maintain a relationship" being used in the context of a relationship with Christ.  I would say that it is His ongoing discovery of Himself to us which keeps us enthralled...He reveals, we are amazed, he reveals more, we remain so.  Other things will certainly compete for our affections, but ultimately, if we've really seen Him, and really loved Him, only He will do and our diversions will, one way or another, in the end point us back to Him.  I say, "if we've really seen Him" because I believe that people who turn their backs on Him for good either have not "seen him", or else have seen Him and came to realize they did not want any part of what they saw (as in John 6).  I say, "really loved Him," because as both of us can attest to, it is possible to think you are "in love" with someone, when what you are really in love with is what you've imagined them to be, or the way they make you feel for a time. When the illusion or good feelings wear off, well, all that's left is the real person behind it all, and how you feel about that person determines whether your heart is in it or not.
Both are very real possibilities. But to see Him as He is, and to adore Him, is to be His forever.

Paul:  Yes, well, any analogy breaks down eventually and in the case of analogies for one's spiritual walk compared with human relationships, analogies are going to be a bit like taking floppy disks to the Large Hadron Collider.  But I'm mixing my metaphors now.  Oh well.  I've buttered my bread and now I must lay in it.

But I think you do play into my point here.  I think, in fact I know, you and I both have experienced falling in love with the idea of a person.  It tends to be a bitter disappointment.  I also know that you and I are in love and it's galaxies beyond anything we've experienced before.  But, yes, "working on the relationship" does not translate.

I would be much obliged if you helped me to bring the topic back to Christianity and the arts at this point.

Laurie:  Well, I think I implied in there somewhere, if not stated outright, that the arts - the creativity of humanity - is a reflection of the image of God in this world.  It is often distorted and perverted to reflect the character of the sinful man who bears it, but for what truth and beauty is in it, it reflects the Creator and brings Him glory.  And so, one would think and expect that in redeemed mankind these expressions would be even more glorious....Does that help?  

Paul: That was a suitable help.

There was a fascinating book written by Frank Shaeffer (the son of theologian Francis Schaeffer who, as many of you know, has taken a rather inscrutable theological route as of late. But I am referring to a text he penned in the 1980s) called Addicted to Mediocrity: Contemporary Christians and the Arts. Although, as I said, a fascinating text, for our purposes I really don't need to tell you much more about it than what the title reveals. It's a fairly concise thesis statement of the book within. Philip Ryken also wrote what amounts to little more than a pamphlet on the topic with Art for Art's Sake: A Call to Recover the Arts. I will not be the first or last to observe that the church once had Caravaggio and Rembrandt, and now has Kinkade.

Now, don't lets go too far with this. I am not suggesting that appreciation of the arts and education make a person qualitatively "good" by any means. Intrepid readers will no doubt point out to me that Caravaggio's personal life is an argument against my point that fine arts and education will make one a better person. In fact, one could assemble a very long list: Bukowski, Caravaggio, Lord Byron, Picasso, Poe, Hunter Thompson, Beethoven and Mozart, etc. of artists who you would not want babysitting your children or buying the house next door to you if you're even slightly concerned over property values. Famously, there were riots, full on riots, at the premiere of Stravinsky's The Rite of Spring ballet in 1913. I'm not saying that being passionate about fine art is safe or even all that sane, but I am saying it's an appropriate response to being a human on this planet. In art as in our spiritual life, I don't think safe is the appropriate thing to aim for. In fact, safety is an illusion.

It's a matter of what springs out of the abundance of your heart. I would also point out that one touting safety and mediocrity is revealing the abundance of his heart.

Which leads me to the Christian and, not to cast aspersions, but I've found many in the church who are, in some capacity, opposed to either the arts or even education.  This strikes me as not only the polar opposite of what should be, but also a highly dangerous position.  First of all, if one worships a creator, it would seem to me that the arts and education are fine venues to supplement that lifelong endeavor.  But possibly more importantly, both the arts and education offer an expanding view of the world, the ability to see things through other eyes and awareness of other people, cultures, and ideas.  First of all, this is helpful in that it requires one to continue to think on their faith, hopefully continuing to adjust it when necessary (because we don't have it exactly right, ever, and neither does anyone else.)  Also, exposure to other points of view, awareness that people who hold them are fellow human beings, inspires compassion.  As global citizens in this expanded world, everyone is our neighbor.  We are duty bound to love them as ourselves.  Arts and education are doors to that endeavor.

Laurie:  I can't help in all this but ponder what it says about the robustness of our faith when our creative expressions - those fingerprints of the image of God on our souls - are so anemic, and when claiming to be imbued with the Spirit of God the Creator, we live in so much fear of information, education, diversity, invention, and challenge. We love such a vast God, how is it that we think so small? Is it possible that we've confused walking the narrow road with having a narrow mind? Oh we of little faith....

Dueling Dodos

Paul:   Behold, The Dodo Bird!

Actually, I am being a bit facetious. You can't actually behold the dodo bird. I doubt I need to point out to anyone that this is not a photograph of a dodo, but a 17th Century drawing, possibly made by someone complicit in the destruction of the dodo. The dodo no longer exists. We humans discovered it on the island of Mauritius in the late 1500s. Over the next 75 years or so, we killed every single one of them on the planet. Why? Because we could.

Those who know their American history shouldn't find this too surprising as the early post-Revolutionary expansion settlers did likewise to the American buffalo.

Laurie:   Yeah, and the Native Americans.

Paul:   Well, I wasn't going to go there, but, yes let's not forget about them. Anyway, as I was saying, they shot and killed defenseless and harmless animals with alarming industry, nearly driving the species into extinction.  And they would have gotten away with it too if it weren't for those meddling National Parks.

Bear in mind, when I say "we," I do understand that no one currently walking the earth (save the Highlanders)...

Laurie:   Hold on a minute. Who are the Highlanders?

Paul:  Geek joke.  Readers, you should probably get used to geek jokes.

Laurie: And you should get used to me not getting them.

Paul:  Highlander was a fantasy movie franchise in the 1980s with Christopher Lambert and Sean Connery which inexplicably became several fantasy television series on B television networks in the 1990s.  The MacLeods are Highlanders (neither of the characters were Gavin) who are a race or clan or something that live forever except that all Highlanders are trying to cut off one another's head in order to be the only one.  So you'll have Highlanders who fought in the Crusades walking around modern New York and so forth.  I wish I could trade all of the parts of my brain that know about Highlanders with a foreign language or how to understand an economic forecast.

Laurie:  Okay, so no one "save the Highlanders"...?

Paul:  Right, none of us could possibly be personally responsible for the death of a dodo. But it is my belief that we all have a form of killing the dodo within us.

The dodo did not have a lot of natural predators aside from the animals who would steal eggs from their probably ill-advised nests on the ground. The dodo had no fear and I don't mean that they were brave. I mean that if you picked up a dodo and got it to squawk, all of the other dodos in the area would waddle over to see what all the noise was about. They were not good eating, being very similar to a pigeon. There was absolutely no good reason for people to kill them except that they were remarkably easy to kill.

In his fantastic book "A Short History of Nearly Everything", Bill Bryson I think rightly puts side by side two events in human history occurring at nearly the same time. One is Isaac Newton's Principia Mathematica, without a doubt one of the high watermarks of human aspirations, one of the grandest works produced by a human mind. Meanwhile, almost simultaneously, although we're not sure when because no one cared enough to even notice, somewhere on Mauritius a sailor or a sailor's pet was killing the last of the dodos. For no good reason at all. The dodo was not very bright, not very fast, but very trusting. Bill Bryson writes "Millions of years of peaceful isolation had not prepared it for the erratic and deeply unnerving behavior of human beings."

And it's worse in a way because no one cared enough to notice when the last dodo died. We don't have an accurate date of extinction. The only records we have of how it looked, acted, and behaved come from mainly unscrupulous sources. No one cared so much that around the time of Darwin a large portion of the scientific community assumed the dodo was a myth until someone found skeletons. The last stuffed dodo was spotted by a grumpy Philistine of a museum director who said, "burn that musty old thing." A biologist who worked at the museum happening by the bonfire was aghast and thunderstruck when he saw the last dodo (stuffed, in this case) thrown into a bonfire. At risk to his own body he reached into the fire and was able to rescue the head.

For me, the two events, the writing of the Principia and the annihilation of the dodo, illustrate a view of humanity and, specifically, I plan on hijacking the parallel to illustrate my own view of humanity. I've had friends in the past to whom I've explained the Christian doctrine of Total Depravity who were unable to get past the sound of the term. One expressed concern over what she thought sounded like a very paranoid view of reality, as if I meant to say that everyone everywhere was sort of a rampant id, Mr. Hyde type at all times. What I actually mean is that humankind creates and aspires to wonderful heights, many of which I spend a lot of time talking about on my blog with art, literature, opera, architecture, poetry, economics, food preparation, science, sculpture, dance and so forth.  On the other hand, humans all down through history have also been notably extraordinary in their capacity for destruction. It's a tale as old as the Eden tree and new as the new cut tooth. From the Fall we go from dominion to dominance, stewardship to consumption, caretaking to execution.

Laurie:  And I would add, from authority to authoritarianism

Paul:  So, Laurie and I became vegetarians recently. We came to the decision, as we so often do with major life choices, independently and then find ourselves astonished at how similar our wavelengths are operating. Here is why we've decided to become vegetarians and the first two are the two reasons that Laurie and I both share:
1) money. Lots of produce, carbs, nuts and dairy no matter how you cut it is way cheaper than meat. We are poor, partly by choice and partly by circumstances. In any case, we are also charting a course in our life of attempting to severely scale back our attachments and consumption.
2) the meat industry. I won't camp too long on this one as there are many resources for grossing yourself out over where your meat comes from way more graphic than anything I would wish to put here (I try to keep this blog PG-13 at worst.) Believe me, we know about a lot of the recent advances, we hold Temple Grandin in high regard. I know Laurie is fully willing to accept meat from people who hunt or raise their own (I'm kind of proud to think my bear chili had something to do with that.) I think Laurie's version is that she would be more happy to eat meat if meat animals roamed free in pastures and lived natural lives (although really she wouldn't be so happy when an eight ounce steak would cost about $250.) Which brings me to my own two points which I'm not sure Laurie is completely with me on.

Laurie:  I object to your order here.  Reason #1 is really closer to my Reason #3.  Sorry, continue

Paul: The order of the list is not a qualitative judgment, merely an ordering mechanism.

3) the opossum. Many of you remember the opossum who was living in our wall and how we decided one day to let it stay there, after we looked at our cats and realized that there are very few differences between the animals aside from aesthetics. In short, we realized we were going to hire a trapper to come kill the thing purely because it was ugly. It wasn't in our house. It wasn't attacking our animals. And eventually it went away or has died and we will start smelling it very soon. But I found myself transferring that same reaction to meat and my pets. I adore our pets and the thought of one dying, much less of eating one, is anathema to me.

4) Compassion. Events of late have also made me keenly aware that in all things I want to be compassionate. In fact, I would like to live my life in such a way that if I had a fault that people remarked upon, I would like for it to be that I was too compassionate. Which leads to:

5) because I can and I know it. I can live just fine without meat and be plenty healthy which also leads to:

6) I've grown quite rotund over the past two years. My blood pressure is up and I've been told by my doctor that my asthma would probably improve if I lost some weight. In all other vegetarian portions of my life I have been thin and already I've lost some weight.

Laurie: You're Reason #6 is really my Reason #2, by the way.

Paul:  But we're not going to be jerks about it. Laurie's stating to everyone that if we're coming over for dinner, don't worry about fussing over the content of the meal for our sake. And I really do mean that. Laurie will eat the occasional meat with gratitude if it is set before her in the spirit of hospitality. And as for me, I actually kind of like just filling up on bread. Also, I'm not going to preach this lifestyle or expect anyone else to follow suit or think any less of anyone who eats anything. It's simply my choice for my life.

Laurie: Really, as far at the meat industry part of the argument goes,  It's a matter of my own conscience, not something I would ever impose on anyone else. I do not think there's anything wrong with eating meat.  But, every time I buy meat I have to close my mind off to the fact that this was once a living breathing creature that lived it's entire existence in a conditions I wouldn't dream of subjecting any animal of my own to, only to have it meet a brutal end in a slaughterhouse. If a creature must die to feed us, the least we can do for it is give it a good life while it lives. I'm just not comfortable spending my own money on anything which perpetuates the abuse of animals. Not buying mass produced meat (which is the only kind I can afford) is my little contribution.

Paul:  I do not wish to be maudlin, but I find myself keenly aware that everything I purchase probably includes the exploitation of someone somewhere in the price, even if it's relatively benign. Who sewed my clothes? Dyed the cloth? Who grew and trucked my produce and coffee? (and given our recent reading of Thoreau, who is getting killed with my tax dollars?) It can drive me mad if I think about it too much. But I'm not sure I shouldn't be thinking about it too much.

But, back to the dodo, and I should probably also mention that the meat cow doesn't seem to be in any danger of going extinct anytime soon (although if you dig up one of those films that show you why you don't want to eat meat from the meat industry, in my experience most of them also go on at length as to how the meat industry is bad for the environment.)  But I submit to you that there is a duel nature at work in all of us. One of the startling revelations I remember from playing Richard III was in preparing the character, coming to the realization that under the right life circumstances, I could be Richard III. I could be a murderous power-mad climber given the right (or wrong as it were) stimulus. We all could. Really, there but for the grace of God go we. A moment of anger, a slight chemical variation in our brain, an injury, an opportunity of a lifetime, the difference between having one's family going hungry or not, and who knows what morality we would push aside. Long may we all live to never have that tested!

All of which, I'll readily admit, sound rather high minded of me. I would restate that I am bound by my own conscience and simply explaining my need to respond to external stimuli in my own way, by no means am I prescribing a lifestyle for anyone else.

We all have the capacity within ourselves for the most wicked, wretched, selfish, vile and senseless behavior. We all also contain within us the ability to aspire to seek at all times to see if there is some good we can do in this world. As I've often said, we can make this world into whatever we choose, and THIS is what we've chosen! I remember from my war protesting days having the conversation many times with people who would remind me that, due to human nature and poorly distributed resources, war would always exist. Some rather defeatist people who are always quick to point out that greed, suffering and injustice will always exist and, most likely, always be dominant over compassion, peace and loving-kindness. Be that as it may, why should that stop us from behaving as we ought? Why should that prevent us from trying? Even if it is futile, why quit? I'm the one who has to live in this brain and the one who has to see my face in the mirror in the morning.
There's a whole world of people out there trying to do good, to be good, to make the world a better place for those around them, people who promote beauty and life. There's also a great mass of people who kill the dodo because it is gentle and harmless and helpless and because we can. Often times, if we're honest with ourselves, we find that we have within us the capacity for either.

As for me, even though it's hopeless, I'm always going to try to be a vote for the dodo.

Laurie:  Well, you kind of stole my thunder there. But I'm going to get my theological bit in here anyway. I really do want to go back to the dodo-killing heart of man for a minute - to the Native Americans, to the elderly and infirm, to the women of patriarchal sub-cultures, to the children. 

Paul: Yes, in my experience, one of the stock objections that vegetarians tend to hear from their omnivorous associates, usually someone like an antagonistic uncle from Glennbeckistan who you only see once a year anyway who has taken it upon himself to ratchet up the tension over Thanksgiving dinner as his only outlet for bullyish entertainment, is along the lines of "you vegetarians care more about animals than you do about humans."  Hopefully we can roundly dispel that accusation in advance in our case to anyone willing to treat us fairly.

Laurie:  As a long-time animal lover, I've always found that an interesting accusation. Not that I justify it, but I don't find it any wonder that folks often find it easier to love animals.  Animals don't sin against us, they aren't wicked or antagonistic. They don't envy or behave unkindly. Which brings me back to my point:  the effect of the Eden tree on dominion, stewardship, care-taking, authority. As humans we've been entrusted with these roles, and gifted with all the abilities necessary to carry them out.  As fallen beings, we've managed to pervert them, every one.  We've been given stewardship over the wonder that is creation. Each thing, so perfectly formed, just suited to God's design, according to its intricate molecular structure, its perfect genetic blueprint, written in the handwriting of God. Every marvel meant to fill our hearts with awe. What an honor to have dominion over such a thing - to be given minds to grasp the very workings, to comprehend the laws upholding it all. And what do we do?

We shut our eyes tight against wonder and become brutes, focused only on our bellies, our glory, and sex organs. We become utilitarian.  We resent the beauty we cannot understand.  We hate the God we see in it. Death to the useless, domination of whatever's left. So, what I'm getting at here is that in all these perversions: domination, consumption/destruction, execution, and authoritarianism we are seeing evidences of the fall - our cursed dodo-killing hearts. When we see the dodo, we don't think of the delight the Creator took in it, it's own right for being. When we happen upon a new land, a useful land, full of people who will not yield or serve us, we exterminate them.  When a man sees a woman, she becomes a servant to his organs.  If he marries her, he misses the wonder of her feminine soul, the glorious mind and heart with which she's been graced and subjugates her to his belly.  If there are children they become extensions of his over-blown ego, trophies of his "manhood", a glory to his self, servants to do his bidding. If their beautiful and unique spirits rise up they are beaten down.

Paul: And those who do not behave in this manner are seen as inferior or weak and mocked by the dodo-killers to further bolster their sense of superiority. 

Laurie: Yes, and such are the perversions of fallen man.  As Christians, however, as those in whom Christ is at work, untangling us from the effects of the fall, we should be the first in line to recognize them for what they are, first to desire change.  The last place such attitudes belong is in our midst and yet over and over I've seen instead the church become a sanctuary for just such behavior.  It is a grievous state of affairs.

Paul: Well, on that happy note...