A new response to that "I'm NOT the 99%" post

So I saw this stupid picture in my facebook news feed again. I didn't respond to it the first time I saw it. Usually that sort of thing is posted by people who I've already realized I just can't reason with and don't want to bother, so normally I'd just hide the post. There are certain people who I expect a lot better of, so if one of them had posted it I'd probably eviscerate it while methodically pointing out every single false assumption in it--things like the cost and necessity for student loans, the fact that the writer IS one of the 99% and will never be in the 1% no matter how hard she tries, and the fact that she claims she did it all herself but the only reason she can get an education and a job is because 100 years ago liberals fought for her rights...yeah.

But the person who posted it this time is a high school senior who attends the church I grew up in, and she's like me in a lot of ways. When I was a counselor at summer camp she was one of the girls in my cabin. She posted it with the caption "this is what I aspire to be in four years." I didn't want to overlook the post, but I didn't want to be harsh, either. So I attempted a more pastoral, mentoring approach, and thought I'd share it to get other people's opinions.

Regarding your recent post about your aspirations...

I am proud of you for the kind of person you want to be and are becoming. I am proud of your determination and your passion and your intelligence. I am proud of the goals you're setting for yourself and I hope you achieve them. I hope you are wildly successful and that you learn the value of hard work while accomplishing everything you set out to do.

But forgive me for saying that I hope you do not become the girl in that picture. As you get older you will realize that those who work the hardest are not always the most successful. I'm sure you already knew that, but I did not realize the extent to which it is true when I was in high school. We don't all start from the same place and we don't all have the same luck. You and I are white, straight, middleish-class, intelligent, Christian girls. We have good senses of humor and friendly attitudes, and we had supportive families, teachers, friends and churches who were delighted to teach and encourage us. Not everyone is so delightful.

So I hope you are successful, and I hope you do it on your own to the extent that you are able. I hope you will not blame yourself if you fail. I hope you won't judge those who can't do what you have done.

I hope you won't look down on people with learning disabilities who can't get good grades and good scholarships in high school. I hope you won't judge people with physical disabilities who can't work at the jobs that are available to students. I hope you won't scorn someone who drops out of school to take care of their siblings because their parents can't or won't, and I hope you won't scorn someone who drops out of school to take care of her baby because she made a stupid mistake and is now expected to take responsibility for it. I hope you won't blame the people who fall through the educational system's cracks because their parents kicked them out when they came out as gay.

I hope you will not judge those of us who paid more and went into debt for a private school because we wanted the education and the courses you can't get in a state school. I hope you will not mock those of us who chose an unmarketable major because we are passionate about things capitalism doesn't value. In short I hope you will not make the mistake of conflating failure or lack of success with stupidity, weakness, foolishness, laziness, selfishness or shortsightedness.

I hope you will not become the girl in that picture. I hope you are successful, but more than that I hope you are compassionate. I hope you care more about being loving than you do about being self-sufficient. I hope you will not judge those who proclaim that this country is not as just as it could be, because that is a prophetic statement and a gospel one, a kingdom-bringing call to revival. I hope and pray that you will never side with the powerful over the powerless, never honor the oppressors and scorn the oppressed.

Most of all I hope that you will not be angry at me for writing this, and that you will take it as intended: not as a criticism, but as a simple hope and prayer from a friend and sometime counselor to someone I love and respect.

Tribulation Zombies

As Nicolae swung the baseball bat at Rayford, he reflected in irritation that the whole reason he had hired Rayford was because he was the person least likely to assassinate Nicolae, and now here Rayford was, jaws gaping and hands clawing for his throat. Nicolae ducked another lunge and jumped up onto the hood of a broken-down car. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Buck stumbling toward him, dragging his mutilated leg across Hattie's ravaged, still twitching corpse.

Nicolae's foot slipped on his own blood and for the first time he thought that he might die. He swung the bat at Buck's head, but Buck managed to knock it out of his hands as Rayford grabbed his leg and dragged him off the car. His bloody teeth sank deep into his thigh. Nicolae screamed, grabbed Rayford's forgotten pistol out of his belt and shot him pointblank. The zombie fell to the ground, but Nicolae could feel the toxins coursing through his blood and the numbness spreading from his wound. As he sank into unconsciousness, he thought, "It wasn't supposed to end this way..."

Fifteen-year-old Nicolae fought back angry tears as he shoved his clothes into his suitcase. He could hear Father's words still echoing in his ears: "They fired me...We'll have to move again." He threw his books into a box as he silently cursed the Christians, the love they claimed to show, the churches who honored the most hateful among them, and the God who didn't seem to care. How many times had they moved now, when someone had outed his parents? Too many, it seemed. He hated them all. He knew Dad would be angry if he heard, but he couldn't help whispering, "I hate you, God."


"So do something about it," a voice behind him said matter-of-factly.


Nicolae whirled around to see a strange man sitting on his bed. The man looked completely average and nondescript, but something about his eyes seemed wrong. "Who are you?" he demanded.


"Satan, of course." Nicolae blinked. The man sighed. "Satan? You know, Lucifer? The Accuser, the Roaring Lion, the Father of Lies, the Angel of Light? Commander of the Hosts of Darkness? The Old Serpent, the Great Dragon?"


Nicolae looked uncertain. "This is a joke, right? I mean...Satan's not real."


The man rolled his eyes. "That's what they all say. I've been trying to recruit a decent Antichrist for 2000 years, and at first everyone's like, 'I hate God. God is evil' and then they're like 'I don't believe in God or the devil or anything.' Either that or they're not actually brave enough to follow through on what they've said."


"What are you talking about?" asked Nicolae.


"Obviously, I want you to be my Antichrist. Now don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. We both know that this entity pretending to be "god" is evil. He commits atrocities, he orders his followers to commit atrocities, and he turns a blind eye when they commit more atrocities. The human race is under his thumb, and I'm here to save you, liberate you. All I ask is a little cooperation from one brave man. So are you brave enough to turn against the god you hate?"


"Who are you?" demanded Nicolae again.


"I told you already! I'm the devil! Look, if I wasn't Satan, could I do this?" He suddenly transformed into a giant cobra. "Or this?" he hissed, flicking his tail, and everything in the room started to float. "What about this?" He flicked his tail again, and Nicolae's Bible burst into flames. When the smoke cleared, Satan was calmly sitting on the bed again. "Get the picture? You, me, Antichrist, Armageddon. Let's do this."


Nicolae was struggling to keep up. "What's in it for me?"


"Besides the liberation of all humanity, and the fact that you'll be the freaking Antichrist? You can 
have anything you want! Money, power, women..."


"Women aren't things," Nicolae said automatically, echoing his Dad, but his thoughts were distant.


"Whatever then!"


"You mentioned power...what kind of power?"


"Well, at the beginning, just the basics for a deceiver. Charisma, insight, foresight, luck."


"That's it?"


"Hold your horses, kid! That's just to get you in position for when everything gets going. After the Rapture and the Tribulation starts, you'll get to perform minor miracles. Water into wine, multiplying bread, walking on water, that sort of thing. Then about halfway through the Tribulation, you'll become impervious to death, and you can do awesome things like bringing others back from the dead, bidding the earth to swallow your enemies, smiting with fire, and all that. How does that sound?" Satan looked smug.


Nicolae frowned. "I know about the Tribulation. The Antichrist has to die, doesn't he?"


"Well, yeah, but it barely hurts at all, and you'll come right back to life three days later!"


"And then you'll be indwelling me?"


"Ah, no, actually. That is a misinterpretation of some religious weirdos. No, you'll be completely in charge."


"How do I know you're not lying?" said Nicolae, suspicious.


"Well, it's all in the Bible, isn't it? You can go read it if you want."


"So we're following the Bible. Great plan."


"Well, I have to play by his rules up until the end, and then, oh, just you wait and see what I've got up my sleeve. So how about it, kid?"


"I...I think I have to think about it for a while," said Nicolae.


"Oh, of course, of course. Think about it all you need. However," he waved his hand, "I've now endowed you with the lesser powers, so you can try them out for a while. It'll be your choice to use them or not, but just remember, if you decide to say no, they go away."


Nicolae started to ask another question, but Satan cut him off. "Hey, I've got to go now, okay? Give me a call if you need anything." He disappeared with a magnificent flourish

Nicolae found himself floating above his broken body, watching Buck gnaw on his foot. He cried out, "It wasn't supposed to end this way! You promised!"

Satan appeared, floating next to him. He grinned. "What's the problem, AC?"

Nicolae flung his arm toward the ground. "Look! I'm dying! Fix it!"

Satan lazily pointed at Buck, who was quickly incinerated. "How's that?"

Nicolae folded his arms. "You know that's not enough. Can't you make the virus go away?"

Satan frowned. "Ah, that I cannot do. The dead and the living I have power over, but the undead, well, um, that's...out of my area of expertise. Oh well! Serenity to accept the things I can't change, and all that!"

"I'm your Antichrist! How can you let me die?"

Satan shrugged. "I'll figure something out. I'm very resourceful. Besides, I gave you power. Use it."

"You just said you didn't have power over the undead--Oh..." He looked down at his body, then looked at Satan. "Do I have enough time left?"

"I don't know, but you'd better do it now. See you if you make it!" He disappeared in a cloud of cockroaches.

Nicolae snapped back to his body, fighting the virus that clouded his thoughts. His hands were already settling into claws, so he had to fumble with the pistol and brace it against the side of his head. Using both hands, he pulled the trigger, and then--nothing.

-----

Nicolae woke up with a pounding headache, though otherwise alert. He supposed the headache was a small enough price to pay for resurrection. Looking around, he saw Rayford's skeleton, licked clean by the horde of zombies. Now that the struggle to survive was over, the emotions rushed in. Grief and hatred and resentment and despair. What was the point of it all? He could have borne anything, as long as his Hattie was with him, but now she was one of them. As was the entire human race.

Nicolae knew that Satan didn't really care about the human race, and would do anything it took to defeat God, but even so Satan had convinced him to care, somehow. For a few years, as he was rising through the ranks and people were adopting his policies, it seemed possible to create the beautiful, tolerant and wise world he had always dreamed of. His grand vision. And after meeting Hattie, he had even believed that humanity deserved his guidance. She was what he kept his eyes on.

But now he saw it was all a waste. Humanity had always been selfish cannibals, destroying and devouring one another. The fact that they now looked like monsters made no difference.

With a roar of hatred, he stood up, brandishing his bat and pistol. A horde of zombies was approaching, attracted to the smell of life. He fired the last four shots into the crowd, and then waded in swinging, throwing a zombie to the wall with each stroke. His new strength was terrible, and all of their biting and clawing was deflected. Each zombie became a stand-in for one more hurt that was done to him or the people he loved. Father. Dad. Steve. Chaim. Hattie. Hattie. Hattie?

Suddenly he realized that one of the monsters he had hurled away from him had Hattie's eyes. In his grief and anger he called on hellfire to consume the entire horde, and then rushed to Hattie's side, cradling her head in his lap even as she snapped at him. Her neck was broken and she couldn't move anything else. He wept, stroking her tangled, bloody hair. He had to free her. With one vicious motion he crushed her skull, and her struggles stopped.

He didn't know how long he sat there, sobbing, but gradually a thought began to occur to him. He had power over death now, didn't he? And Hattie was dead now, right? Really, truly dead? He hardly dared to hope, but he had to try. He called upon the power that was now a part of him and gently laid a hand across her face. It seemed that a subtle wind blew through the parking garage, and then, to his astonishment, her wounds closed, her body was healed, and she opened her eyes, staring up at him.

"Oh, Nic," she breathed.

"Hattie," he started, but his voice broke, and they embraced, crying with joy now.

They pulled apart and Hattie stared into his eyes. "You saved me. How did you..."

"There's something I have to tell you, Hattie."

She gasped in wonder. "I knew it! I knew you were the Messiah!"

"What? I--"

"You're going to save the world, aren't you? Where are we going? Where will we start? Wherever you go, I will follow you and help you."

He looked away. "I don't want to save them. They're all monsters who deserve it."

She touched his cheek. "I was a monster too, and you saved me."

Nicolae looked at her and believed again. "Okay," he said, standing and pulling her to her feet. "Let's get started."

Table for Two: A Parable (Part 1)

"Table for two, please."

The server raised an eyebrow at the patron's odd headgear, but didn't comment on it. Instead, she simply said, "Right this way, please," leading him to a small table in the corner. "Can I get you a drink to start out with?"

The customer sat down and didn't look up. "Chocolate milk."

The server blinked, shrugged, and nodded. "It'll be right out."

He pulled out his new smart phone and began flipping through the next week's calendar. Lost in thought, he was startled when the server returned with his drink. "Would you like to order or wait for the rest of your party?"

"I'll wait. Thanks." He didn't look up again but felt the server disappear.

***

The shrill jangle of the telephone jolted him awake. He fumbled for the alarm clock--3:42. Remembering his parents weren't home to answer, he stumbled out into the hallway. "Hello?" he mumbled.


"Hi. It's me," a female voice squeaked.


"What's wrong? Are you okay?"


"I-I'm fine." A sniffle. "I just had a bad dream."


He sighed and sat down against the wall. "What happened?"


"It's stupid. I just--I dreamed that you left and I was never going to see you again."


"Why did I leave?"


"I don't remember. It was just a stupid dream." Pause. "But it was scary."


"Look, I promise I'm never going away. We're going to get married, remember? Right after we graduate college."


She giggled. "Yeah, I remember. But what if we do lose each other?"


"It's not going to happen."


"Please. I'm scared."


"Okay. If we ever lose each other, let's make a plan. We'll meet on May 22 at 7 pm, at that little diner on the corner of 2nd and Main. And we'll both do that, every year, until we find each other again."


"But what if we don't recognize each other?"


He rolled his eyes, but couldn't help smiling. "I'll carry a red rose, and you'll have a white one in your hair."


"What? That's dumb! Everyone does that. How are we going to tell each other apart from all the other long-lost loves?"


He laughed. "I don't know, what's your idea?"


"You'll wear a purple hat. With--with a yellow feather. And I'll wear a neon-green dress. And we have to meet at 6:56, because 7 is too obvious. Okay?"


"Okay. But I still promise that I'm never going away."


"I promise too." He could hear her smiling and knew she wasn't scared anymore. "Thanks for talking to me."


"Anytime. I've got to go now, though; I was up late studying for the algebra test and I don't want to fall asleep during it."


"All right. See you tomorrow. Sleep tight!"


"You too." They had never said "I love you," but they both knew it was true--or it would be, once they were old enough.


It was a silly, childish pact, but the next time they were out, she ducked into a thrift store and came out with an adult-size sickeningly bright green dress and a hideous purple bowler hat, into which she jammed a felt feather. They promised never to throw them away.


***
His chocolate milk was long since gone, and he had moved on to a gin and tonic. There was still no one in the other chair, and no food on the table. If he had been paying attention, he might have overheard the server arguing with the manager. "But he's been there for an hour, and he's not ordering anything! How long are we going to wait before we kick him out?"

"It's okay. He's cool. Just keep refilling the drink."

"Okay, but he'd better leave a huge tip."

The manager came over to the table. "Back again, huh?"

The customer looked up, finally. "As usual."

"You think she's going to show?"

"I doubt it, but I can't give up." He looked with a vacant expression at his rapidly emptying glass, and the manager waved for a new one.

"I know you still don't want to hear this, but have you thought about moving on at all this year?"

"You know I've tried. No one else measures up."

The manager rested his hand on the customer's shoulder for a moment. "I'll come back around when we slow down a little." The customer nodded and sank back into his drink.

***


It was the last date of their sophomore year, and the first time he'd been able to drive her to their favorite restaurant. She'd started picking at her dessert. "You ready to go?" he asked.


She sighed. "Look, I've been putting off telling you something..."


"What's up?" He reached out and took her hand.


"My dad has to move to England for work."


He sat back in his chair. "What? When?"


"Next month."


"You're staying here, right?"


"You know I can't."


"But what about your mom? You could stay with her!"

"She lives on the other side of the country. How would that help us?"


"But--I can't lose you!"


"I'm sorry--I can't help it!" Her eyes started to fill with tears.


"No, baby, don't cry. It--It'll be okay. I promise, we'll see each other again."


"You promise?"


"Of course I promise. You still have that dress, right?"


She smiled a little. "I'll come back--after I graduate."


"I'll wait for you. I promise. I won't marry anyone else but you."


***

Another hour, and two more drinks, had gone by. The manager came over to sit next to the customer. "Still waiting?"

"Still waiting."

"Why don't you tell me about her again?"

He sighed and stared out the window. "The most beautiful girl you ever saw, and the best cheerleader of our year, always cheerful, always smiling. It was like she was my other half--we never fought; she always knew just what I was thinking. I know we were young, but we always knew we were going to be married, since middle school. She was...perfect. There's no better way to say it."

"Do you think you'll ever find her again?" The manager knew this script. It was the same every year.

"She promised. And I believe her." The manager nodded. There wasn't much else to say.

***

They lost touch a year after she left. His parents moved, and he sent her the new address and several letters, but never received a reply. He considered it a cosmic joke that email came into widespread use just two months after that, which would have made it easier to stay in touch, but if she'd gotten an account, he didn't know about it.


Either way, they'd been talking about going to the same college since they were thirteen, so he expected to see her the next year. He scoured the annual "Meet the Freshmen!" book for her picture and looked for her in all his classes. She didn't come. He finished his freshman year and waited one more semester to see if she would transfer. She didn't, and he realized the university they had agreed on was not a good fit for him. So he repressed his guilt, reminded himself that she had broken faith first, and transferred to a different school.


He also learned to repress the guilt he felt about dating other girls. He told himself that as long as he didn't actually care about them, it wasn't cheating.


Every year he went to the same diner. Every year he ordered a chocolate milk to start with, in the vain hope that their favorite childhood drink would magically make her appear. Eventually the diner went out of business and a "classy" restaurant appeared in its place, the kind that likes to pretend it has three stars more than it actually does. He continued wearing the tasteless purple hat in quiet rebellion. The manager got to know him and allowed him to stay until closing nursing his drink, and he always left a good tip.


***
Around eleven he unsteadily got to his feet. It seemed that he had one more gin and tonic each year. The manager had kindly hailed a cab for him, reminding him that he could pick up the car the next day.

He leaned back in the seat, watching the streetlights flash by, the same way the years had flashed by, empty, marked only by the spark of hope that was his yearly visit to the restaurant.

**

After college, he continued trying to date other girls, but from the beginning he could just tell they wouldn't measure up to her. Memories of her would intrude at every turn, like when a girlfriend would get mad at him for not calling, he remembered the way she always trusted him. And all the relationships ended because eventually he would get a little too drunk after a fight and end up telling them about her. They didn't tend to like that.


By this point he didn't know if she would ever show. He didn't think he even believed she would, anymore. But as he saw it, waiting for her, remembering her, was the only meaningful thing he had ever done well or consistently, and he was determined not to give it up.

Victory, yes. But for whom?

I've seen a lot of people on Facebook and elsewhere posting triumphant statuses about praising God and how God's justice has been done. Which, I definitely think we should praise God in all circumstances, and I think God works through things we do, and it's good to praise God when something good and beneficial happens, but I think we need to be very clear on exactly who this victory is for.

This is not a victory for Christianity. This military action was not carried out in God's name or with the purpose of furthering the cause of Christianity. It was not carried out to diminish, damage, or discredit Islam. It was not done for God's glory.

This is a victory for the United States of America. The USA avenged her citizens, protected her shores, defended her interests, and sent a message that she will punish those who hurt her, no matter how long it takes. The USA eliminated an enemy that was difficult to find and had power to hurt her again, and this is a victory.

This is a victory for humanity. Someone who oppressed and terrorized innocents is gone and will never hurt another person. We can rest a little easier and let go of a little more of our fear (if we are willing).

But Christianity is not the same as America. Islam is not reducible to the Middle East and is not defined by its most extreme adherents. And most importantly, humanity is not equal to America or Christianity and we should never allow ourselves to think of those different than us as subhuman.

Perhaps despite this, you still think that the killing of this man brings glory to God and furthers the cause of the gospel. It is your right to think that, and I will not claim you are less of a Christian. But I utterly reject it.

The cause of the cross can never be furthered by killing. Good news can never be imparted through violence. The unconditional love of God can never be proclaimed when someone who could, possibly have been redeemed (for all things are possible with God) is killed and we say "Good riddance, enjoy your stay in hell." It is not, and can never be good news, to say "God loves you, and to get you to accept that I'm going to kill/bully/coerce/blackmail/oppress/shame/ridicule/lecture you." Even if that's not what you are saying, if it's what you mean, it is a contradiction in terms and is not the gospel. It can never be the gospel, and has never been the gospel.

The only way glory can be brought to God is when people are reconciled to God, when cultures and subcultures are reconciled to each other, when all divisions and all hatred cease. The only way the gospel is advanced is when it is sown through our love, when it takes root in people's hearts, and when it bears fruit in good deeds. As Bartholome de las Casas said, "One way, one way only, of teaching a living faith, to everyone, everywhere, always, was set by Divine Providence: the way that wins the mind with reasons, that wins the will with gentleness, with invitation. It has to fit all people on earth, no distinction made for sect, for error, even for evil [...] One, only one way is characteristic of Divine Wisdom [...] a gentle coaxing, gracious way."

Death is no victory, for us, for our faith, for our family, for our movement. Life is our victory. Elimination of an enemy is not a victory; the reconciliation of our enemy to us can be our only victory.

Praise God, yes, that our nation is protected. Praise God, yes, that the innocent will no longer be harmed by this man. Praise God that we are a little safer and that peace will be broken by terror less often. Praise God that justice was done and that the families of his victims (all of them, not just Americans, not just Christians) can sleep a little easier knowing that the dead have been vindicated. I do not regret any of this.

But I mourn deeply that it had to happen this way. The fact that we have to kill a man to prevent him from hurting people--the fact that so much good, heroic life had to be sacrificed to do so, the fact that we had to spend so many resources on death that could have been spent renewing our land--this should shame us, as a race. This should make us weep for our species. I repent in dust and ashes and I cry "Woe is me, for I have an unclean heart, and my species, my race, my nation, my sex, my church community, are all plagued with unclean, spiteful, self-absorbed, tribalistic, hateful, fearful, power-hungry hearts." And death is only necessary because our hearts are unclean. God is not pleased to condemn people to hell, for God is not willing that any should perish, but that all should be saved. The fact that all are not saved is our failing, as a species, and it is nothing to rejoice in.

Justice is good, but it is not the ultimate good. Justice has no meaning where there is no love, and if we had perfect love, justice would not be necessary. If we knew, really knew, how to love each other unconditionally, how to love God without making our faith just another way to separate us from those who are different, then there would be no need for justice because there would be no sin, no war, no coveting, no hate, no fear, no violence.

Will we ever get there? I don't know. I believe that's why Jesus came and that is our ultimate destination, but sometimes I wonder if we will be able to let go of our hate and our fear, because we seem to find so much security in it. Would that we found that security in love. Would that we found a faith that taught us to let go instead of clinging to our rights and our country and our flag and all the tribalistic markers that "make us great." Would that we knew how to walk that difficult line in which we discern sin and evil and protect the innocent, but do not revel in the death and damnation of one who practices evil. Would that we did not mistake our self-made fears and divisions for the way God created us to be, and would that we did not imagine that God is like us, spitting on the grave of one who was made in God's image.

Random thoughts

-I'll agree that this is justice, but it's not God's justice. USA did not carry out this operation on behalf of God, but on behalf of our country, as retribution for those who've died, and in defense of our people and our interests. If we were going to wait for God's vengeance, then we shouldn't have pursued a military solution at all; we should have just sat here and waited for a heart attack or something.

Maybe I should rephrase--this is a victory for God as much as it's a victory for justice because I believe that God is the arbiter of justice. But it certainly isn't a victory for Christianity.

-I don't believe that the souls of murder victims are unrestful until the people responsible are stopped. Humans do not have control over dead people. I believe that the souls of the dead are in God's hands, and how they died doesn't have an effect on that. Now, bringing the ones responsible to justice definitely brings closure to the family and friends of the dead, but let's not pretend this is on behalf of the dead. It does not help the dead in any way. Bringing a murderer to justice does not enable the victims to live for one more minute.

-If this is the end of the war on terror and we "won" (whatever that means), then if that means there's less oppression of innocents and less terrorism, I think it might be worth the tremendous cost in resources, time and more importantly human life. If this is just about the death of one man, then it was not worth it and is not a cause for celebration. That is a waste. Justice against one man is not worth trillions of dollars or hundreds of thousands of lives and is not an effective deterrent. For this to be worth it we have to end up completely or mostly disabling the terrorists' ability to function. I'm not sure we'll be able to do that.

-As far as I can tell, except for the length of time it took for this to finally happen, the operation seems to have been really well-executed--few causualties and no civilian casualties? It really irritates me to see all of the nitpicking of Obama for little things like him taking a whole day to tell the country about it and taking longer than planned to prepare his speech. Would rather have a well-prepared statement that takes longer to prepare than one of Bush's stumbling statements.

-Although I suppose it was too much to ask for Obama not to emphasize "under God" and "God bless America" in his statement.

(After sleeping on it)

-I am seeing a lot of racist and anti-Islam statements today. That along with the cheering in the streets makes me uncomfortable. I realize that killing thousands of innocents in an unprovoked attack and killing one man who caused the attack are not the same thing, nor are the celebration of those deaths the same. But I feel like some of the celebration reinforces the us-vs-them mentality--that Bin Laden was evil because he was them and it's a good thing that he died because we killed him, USA USA USA! Maybe that's not what anyone is thinking and it's too much to expect cheering to express complex, well-thought-out ideas.

On the other hand, he's already being hailed as a martyr and a holy warrior against American injustice and imperialism, in which case we haven't made anyone like us any more by killing him. Our goal is not to get people to like us; our goal is to protect ourselves--but that goal is a lot easier the fewer people who want to kill us.

I feel like Bin Laden and the other terrorist leaders are a little like some of the extremist conservative pundits we have here--NOT that Beck or any of the others have incited people to kill in an organized movement, but that they've taken other people's fear and pain, explained it, and given them someone to blame it on. If Beck was off the air and out of the picture, it wouldn't stop the people from being afraid or hurt, and it wouldn't stop the other pundits from blaming it on "those gays/blacks/liberals/socialists/feminists who are destroying America." I don't know if there's anything we can do to make those people who've been hurt like us and stop hating and fearing us, but the celebrating definitely makes me feel like we have a long way to go. That's why I'm uncomfortable with it.

Epistemology of Sin Part 1: Consequences

Note: At some point I would like to turn this post and others in this series into a several-part curriculum, but until I have people willing to trust me with teaching them, it'll have to be blogged for now.

Over and over again in Sunday school growing up, I remember hearing two things: 1) Actions have Consequences, responsible people are careful to not do things with bad consequences, and when they do bad things, they accept the consequences, and 2) God gives us rules to protect us from the bad consequences of our actions. Though this was rarely explicitly stated, it follows from these that 3) Morally wrong actions are the ones that have negative consequences. I am not sure that either of these things are not true, although I think that they are probably somewhat over- and mis-used, but in some areas I'm quite sure that we've confused cause and effect.

Before I get into what I mean, let's talk about different types of consequences and what they mean.

Negative consequences can be a useful sign that something has gone wrong, but they do not always mean that. For instance, if I run five miles, I will probably end up with blisters and muscle ache. This isn't a sign that I've done something wrong by running five miles; on the contrary, it's probably a sign that I need to do more running. And this pain also isn't necessarily "good" or "deserved." I'm not irresponsibly avoiding the consequences of my actions if I take some pain medicine, or get a massage or a heating pad to relax sore muscles.

Another kind of pain might come if I, say, cut my leg with a kitchen knife. This pain absolutely is a sign that something has gone wrong. It would be irresponsible of me to take pain medicine so I could ignore my wound without going to get stitches. But it's important not to confuse the consequence, the sign of what has gone wrong, for the the thing that has actually gone wrong. Cutting my leg open isn't bad because it hurts. It's bad because all this blood that I really need is now outside my body, and that's the wrongness that needs to be addressed.

Both of the above kinds of pain are examples of natural consequences, but they are not both necessary or deserved.

Then there are unnatural consequences. You will go to jail if you steal. You will get fired if you tell your boss that something zie is doing is unfair. These are artificial--nothing about physics dictates that you will go to jail if you steal, but society enforces it in order to discourage stealing. This is a deserved consequence in general, although there is a lot to be said in a different blog post about the injustice of imprisoning people who steal to eat. Getting fired for criticizing your boss is artificial, but is usually not morally deserved.*

Now the trouble with the way consequences are discussed in Bible class is threefold. First of all, too much focus on the consequences to ourselves makes us overlook the effect our actions have on others. This is where an overly individualistic focus on faith has led us, to the point where sin is only bad because it hurts me and my relationship with God, not for the disastrous effects on people close to me. Secondly, we start mistaking artificial punishments for natural consequences, and imagining that if we can get away with something, so that there are no consequences to ourselves, then it wasn't actually that bad. I remember a lot of stories about a kid who lied to hir parents about who broke the heirloom vase, but kept having to add details to the lie until it was too much to remember and the truth came out. If the only reason lies are bad is that you get caught and punished, then why not just get good at lying, and then you won't get in trouble?

Finally, this focus on consequences to ourselves is used to make kids scared of doing things that won't necessarily hurt other people, but that adults don't want them to do. There are a lot of warning stories about partying and drunk driving which try to discourage teens from drinking at all. It's true that too much alcohol will damage your liver, just like too much salt will clog your arteries.** That doesn't mean that one should never drink alcohol anymore than it means that one should never eat salt. It also doesn't mean that drinking is a moral failing, and it doesn't mean that people who accidentally drink enough that it damages them don't deserve to have those consequences mitigated.

And that brings us to the actual circumstance that inspired this post. I saw a PSA by Bristol Palin on TV, in which a teenage girl was trying to leave the house and a baby was actually yelling at her and telling her to feed it and take care of it, against the girl's protestations that she hadn't seen her friends in weeks. The PSA ended with the words "And you thought your parents were demanding?"

On the surface, I suppose this might be an effective reminder. I am uncomfortable with the way it presents a baby as an inconvenience, but out of the context of the abortion/teenage sex discussion, it does effectively present one of the potential effects of sex.

However, within the context of that discussion, teenage sex is one of the areas in which churches talk about consequences the most, because it's one of those areas where it's really difficult to convince a teenager of exactly who else they'll be hurting if they have sex with their boyfriend or girlfriend. We talk about "purity", which is an abstract concept and not very immediate. Even if purity is a characteristic that actually objectively exists in someone's mind/soul, it's impossible to feel it being damaged. So we have to talk about the consequences that teenagers actually care about: freedom. STDs. Losing your boyfriend because he doesn't respect you now that you've "given it up." Playing into the romantic side of teenage girls and telling them that if they have sex now, they can't have true love with their hypothetical future husband.

Now don't get me wrong: I think an unwanted baby is definitely a sign that something has gone wrong. No person should be unwanted. But this brings up the questions as in the examples above: Is the unwanted baby the thing that is wrong, or the sign that something has gone wrong? And what exactly has gone wrong?

The focus on consequences implies and reinforces the idea that sex that leads to unwanted babies and STDs is by definition bad sex. But this is not true. Two people like my husband and me, who have sex within the Sanctity of a Church-Approved Marriage Relationship, could end up with a baby that we don't want; but that says nothing about our sex life, either according to the standards of the church (when and who you have sex with), or my own personal moral standards (how you treat the other person in bed). In fact, I would go so far as to say that if you have sex with someone only because you want a child, but the other person doesn't know that and thinks you love them, that's exploitation and wrong, even though it's "for the Purposes of Procreation." Also, one of us could have gotten an STD years ago and pass it on to the other one now, but again, that wouldn't say anything about our sex life now.

The fact is that if the only way we are able to definitively say that something is bad is that it has negative consequences, but those consequences are preventable without too much effort, then it becomes impossible to say that's it's wrong anymore. Free-falling may give you a thrill, but it's bad because eventually you hit the ground. However, once you have a parachute, there is no longer any reason to say that jumping out of an airplane is by definition a bad thing. If the only reason we have for kids not to have sex is that it leads to pregnancy and STDs, then we ought to be promoting condoms, birth control, oral sex and porn. And teenagers are smart: they know this, and they will stop taking us seriously if that is our only answer to "why can't I have sex?"

The other real problem I have with this focus on consequences is its theological implications. I can see an argument for why it's a good thing that God created pain. Pain tells us when we're doing something wrong that we might not otherwise notice. (And while a world where we couldn't do anything wrong, where the wrong things we did didn't have a negative effect, might be possible and even better, I can't conceive of what that world would be like.) But if you follow these arguments, then God would seem to have given consequences to certain actions for arbitrary reasons. If 13-year-olds are too young to have kids, why did God make them fertile, or why didn't God prevent them from being sexually aware until they're responsible enough to have children? Why did God create STDs? Why did God create alcohol and drugs that make us feel good, and then cause them to have negative effects on our bodies?

If God intentionally created sex and drugs the way they are, so that if you "do it wrong" (or in the case of drugs, do it at all) it hurts you, then those consequences are natural and deserved and should be enforced, not avoided. But it makes God out to be meanspirited, like putting cords in a maze for rats to trip over, giving them artificial boundaries to avoid. If, on the other hand, these consequences are an accident of evolution, a characteristic of a fallen world, or an obstacle created by Satan to ruin the good things God made, then these consequences are, at best, Bad Things that should be avoided. At worst, they are unnatural and immoral things, and it's wrong for us to consider ourselves God's executioners and ensure that they are enforced upon others. It's no more wrong for us to provide condoms and birth control than it is for us to build stronger buildings to protect from earthquakes. It's no more wrong for us to heal the effects of alcohol and drugs than it is for us to heal the effects of cancer. It is wrong for us to make getting abortions and birth control as difficult as possible because if we don't it will encourage people to have the kind of sex we don't want.

I don't necessarily have a conclusion. But I've tried to explain a little of what makes me deeply uncomfortable with the way we discuss teenage pregnancies, and consequences for (what are usually seen as) victimless sins in general.

*Interestingly, it seems that artificial consequences are the one kind that parents and Bible teachers usually make out to be a positive. Peer pressure is to be resisted, and it's okay to get in trouble with your science teacher for telling hir that the Bible is smarter than zie is. I remember hearing more than once that "If things are going well, that's a sign that Satan is not threatened by you. If things are going badly, that means you're a good enough Christian that he's paying attention." Of course, consequences from your parents or church are deserved, because they're enforcing God's decrees and doing what God would be doing if God had the time, so it's almost natural...here is where the distinction breaks down a little.

**Oversimplifications. IANAD.***

***I am not a doctor.

Okay NOM, Let's Have a Throwdown

You say, "Every time same sex marriage has been put to a vote, voters have affirmed traditional marriage." Okay. If you haven't really been paying attention to the campaigns, you could be forgiven for thinking that. But let's put it to the test. Let's redo all the votes, all the debates, all the campaigns, in all the states. Or we could narrow it down to one campaign, one vote, and we each devote all of our resources to that vote. It doesn't matter. The important thing is that this time:

Get rid of all the campaign ads lying that pastors will be thrown into jail for preaching that homosexuality is a sin.

Stop the ads saying that teachers will be forced to teach kids that homosexuality is AWESOME!1!! if marriage equality becomes law.

No more telling worried parents that anyone is trying to indoctrinate or recruit their kids because of the absurd idea that homosexuals can't reproduce.

No more warning insecure parents that if they let their son wear pink nail polish, he'll turn gay THAT VERY INSTANT.

No more of the false and poorly conducted "studies" saying that queer people have shorter lifespans.

No more "slippery slope" arguments that if same-sex marriage is legalized, soon people will be marrying children, cows and trees.

No more lying that queer people who are out commit suicide because "deep inside, they know what they are doing is wrong", and no more slandering the queer community by saying that anyone, anywhere, is "forced" to come out or live the "gay lifestyle."

No more pretending that the "gay agenda" is anything other than to be allowed to live normal American lives with the people they love.

Essentially, the only campaign premise you get is that everyone should be forced to follow tradition. And we, in turn, get to remind the public that tradition was also the justification for segregation and women not being allowed to work; and traditionalism--blind adherence to and worship of tradition--is nothing more than "the dead faith of the living."

If you win, very well; you can say that "voters affirm traditional marriage." But if you lose, you have to admit that the only thing your voters have been affirming all this time is fear.