timeimmortal

An utterly predictable response from utterly vacuous people.

I’m reminded, in a strange way, of the rich man who came to Jesus looking to follow Him, only to turn away again in despair after Christ asked him to first sell all that he owns (c.f. Matthew 19:16-22)

Tim Robbins‘ and Susan Sarandon’s mission to protect the poor and needy doesn’t apply to their Greenwich Village neighborhood. The Oscar-winning liberals recently attended a Landmarks Preservation Commission hearing to oppose St. Vincent’s plea to build a new, larger hospital on West 12th Street, three blocks from their home. This despite their support of causes like UNICEF and Champions for Children. “The hospital provides $40 million in care to the indigent every year,” one proponent told us. “Robbins dismissed more than 100 people rallying in support of the hospital - low-income, union workers and veterans of the AIDS crisis - as ‘those people out there.’ “ Sarandon said in a statement: “Improving the hospital is a great idea. However, this can be accomplished without compromising the neighborhood. St. Vincent’s should consider the proposed alternative solutions.” Robbins declined to comment.

They’re all for helping the homeless and the poor…until, I guess, it impacts them personally. It’s an interesting, though not surprising, confirmation of Sarandon and Robbins’ true principles.

Jeff Miller, over at The Curt Jester, adds his thoughts to the whole PZ Myers/Eucharistic desecration brouhaha. In perhaps typical fashion, Myers’ intent in desecrating “a Jesus cracker” (his term for the host) was to prove that the host (and presumably, by extension, Jesus) had no real power in this world. The sense one got, in reading him, was that he would conclude, in the absence of his being struck down for engaging in the desecration of something so sacred, that nothing existed which could strike him down.

Or, more plainly: he was trying to goad God into action. Because as we all well know, O Reader, God can be goaded thusly. One wonders exactly how Myers and his disciples can profess, with a straight face, that they are adherents and practitioners of rationalism and reason?

Satan tried to tempt Jesus and his reply from Deuteronomy was “You shall not put the Lord your God to the Test.” This is precisely what the professor is attempting. That Jesus who would not come down off the Cross will in this case do something to prevent his being abused in this manner. That somehow we can make God appear at will by threatening to do something evil.

So the professor is trying to do some materialist’s demonstration that only proves God’s love for us if it proves anything at all. That he loves us so much that he will allow us to abuse him in his sacramental form. He felt the weight of our sins in the Agony of the Garden and continues to bear the weight of our sins that good may prevail. There is Eucharistic desecration daily as people receive Communion unworthily and even those of us who believe can receive Communion can do it without the preparation Communion deserves. Yet he allows alls of this and continues to give us graces to bring us out of of spiritual stupor.

As an ex-atheist I can totally understand P.Z. Myers attitude and ignorance and the only outrage he invokes in me is a turn to prayer for him. So I won’t be making any death threats, just life-after-death threats in that I am praying for him and hope to see him on day in the Beatific Vision.

Just so. In the end, the only thing Myers will prove with his planned desecration is that he is an anti-Catholic bigot and that, just like in the Bible, Jesus willingly bears the insults and slurs of bigots.

For such a man, all we can do is pray. Hardness of heart is a most terrible state of being, and one can only hope that Myers recants of his hatred and pride and is one day welcomed into the glory of the Lord. Failing that, God help him.

Count Roland, who appears to be off on a whirlwind European vacation, writes in with a comment on this article concerning the two English schoolboys who were punished for refusing to pray to Allah as part of being taught about Islam.

… we ‘enlightened’ Westerners were not allowed (philosophically) to have prayer in our schools (on pain of offending someone)? But yes, praise for those boys who show sterner stuff than the majority of adults in our decadent, opthalmoskeptic (navel gazing)*, arrogant culture which presumes its superiority to be self evident (as ‘pluralist’) in the face of contrarian cultural groups by being entirely self effacing. Wow, that guy must have filled my wine glass more than I remember to have such a runon sentence with so many prepositional connectors which may be unclear to those who are not in my slightly inebriated yet philosophically lingo aware mind…YIP. Everything in the Czech folklore show I just watched ended with ‘yip’.

By the way, it is interesting to note the number of non-Caucasian (Afro-Arab) people in my travels thus far in central Europe (and the cheap alcohol…) as well as the number of ‘Cathedral concert halls’ to support the various Churches’ continued existence.

Well, good Count, do raise a glass of Czech wine for yours truly, and for his good wife (who hath given up even the slightest sip of wine during her pregnancy)!

To distill what the good Count has said, he questions why the children were even exposed to prayer in school in the first place, since in our decadent, pluralist, “see no evil” society it is counted as received wisdom that never shall Religion and education be blended in any way, shape, or form.

Perhaps this wisdom only applies to Christianity, however. God fobid we should teach kids about Jesus, regardless of whether one views him as the Son of God or as a man who taught a great number of nice things. But by all means, full speed ahead…let us teach the kids all we can of the paedophile prophet and his idolatrous permutation (read: perversion) of the idea of the Judeo-Christian deity!

* ‘opthalmoskeptic’ — this is a funny turn of phrase, and one which I intend to crib for future use!

Grace and I took her sister to see Pixar’s latest last night, and I have to say, O Reader: if you haven’t gone and seen it, go and see it. For my money, it’s probably the best Pixar film yet, and I wonder if it would be all that hyperbolic to say that it will hold that top spot in my mind for a goodly while. It’s rare enough to find a movie that is genuinely uplifting at a spiritual level, especially in the sci-fi/action genre of film (BSG often fits the bill, although it is a TV series rather than a motion picture), but Wall-E delivers that and more.

Don’t be fooled into thinking this is a kid’s movie, either; WALL-E is age-independent. Because the characters are primarily robots (humans appear as well, but only in a supporting role), there is little in the way of dialogue — most of the comedy is physical/scenario-driven in nature, and will appeal equally to the young and the old (in fact, I suspect adults may enjoy it more than kids, in the same way that Looney Tunes are way more funny to me now than they ever were when I was ten).

It would also make for one heck of a date movie; I don’t think I let go of Grace’s hand for more than five minutes in total during the entire length of the movie. Not only is WALL-E a well-executed sci-fi story with equal parts comedy and well-paced action sequences, it is also a very romantic movie, and the budding relationship that emerges between EVE and WALL-E is amazing for its depth, the sweetness that characterizes it, its innocence, and how very real it feels, right down to how WALL-E makes a point of proudly showing EVE just some of the many trinkets “he” has collected in his 700 years of garbage compaction. Gents, I think (hope!) we can all recognize that little ritual?

(I remember showing Grace some of the many things — model planes, Lego constructs, books — I had collected when first we met.)

Finally, don’t but into the manufactured controversy that this is basically just with a cute face. Yes, it does depict a spoiled and desolate Earth, and yes, there is an environmental message at its core. But it ultimately is, I think, a message about stewardship of the Earth (c.f. Genesis 1:28-31), about the need for humanity to use (not abuse) Nature and the many resources of the world, and to make effective and responsible use of the technology at hand…in such a way that both humanity and Nature benefit. The message in WALL-E’s narrative is very much in favour of human development and the individual spirit, and praises the virtues of “get your hands dirty”-style hard work.

Now, after the jump, we’ll get into greater detail. If you don’t want spoilers, O Reader, do skip this next part.
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Vox Day responds to an atheist critic of his book, The Irrational Atheist, with his usual barbed wit.

…the reason no one looks askance at Christian accoutrements is that the Christian who makes a public statement is making statement about himself and his own beliefs. Atheists, on the other hand, are making a statement about everyone else and everyone else’s beliefs. Unsurprisingly, everyone else tends to look on this askance.

Let me see if I can explain this in sufficiently simple terms. If I wear a shirt that says “I like chocolate”, this does not offend anyone who prefers strawberry or vanilla. It is merely providing you with information about me. If, on the other hand, I wear a shirt that says “Vanilla is evil and everyone who likes it is stupid and bad”, then I should not be surprised when those who happen to like vanilla are not favorably disposed towards me. It is not only providing you with information about me, it is providing you with information about my negative attitude towards you. And to those atheists who are so narcissistic as to believe that another individual’s Religion is a statement that somehow concerns them, I merely say: Get over yourself! Life, the universe and everything are not about you!

There are those who wear their atheism in approximately the same way that Christians and other religious people wear their beliefs — matter-of-factly, presented simply as an aspect of character that intends to say nothing about what other people might think or to impose an opinion thereupon. On the internet, at least, such level-headed sorts are a bit more of a rarity, though not impossible to find.

But on the Internet, as in real life, there are also those who are very “out there” in their atheism, to the point that Vox Day describes above. And whereas all but the most hardcore Christian evangelists (and Mormons, and Jehovah’s Witnesses) tend to present their case in the form of a dialogue, it has been this blogger’s experience that evangelistic atheists tend to present themselves as “the learned” dictating “the truth” to “the deluded” proles into the midst of which they have dared to wander.

This is equally true of atheist “accoutrements” that one typically sees out and about. The “Jesus Fish” is relatively innocuous, whereas the “Darwin Fish” is not so innocuous; the “Jesus fish” tells us only about the beliefs of the driver of the car it adorns, while the “Darwin fish” seems to be intended as a “teaching moment” that the atheist in the adorned car would like to offer to all the other drivers around him (the gender pronoun here is significant; it is usually a man in a car thusly adorned).

(The critic to whom Vox is responding is one notable exception, then.)

At any rate, here’s a couple of other good barbs from Vox:

Ethical belief systems are far less similar than atheists would usually have one think, of course, an atheist attempting to compare ethical systems is rather like a deaf man attempting to distinguish between Mozart and Vivaldi.

This is something to keep in mind, I think, the next time I’m having to deal with the old moral relativism canard.

The relevant point isn’t that religious people don’t ever kill - all are fallen - but that religious people are ORDERS OF MAGNITUDE less likely than atheists to kill when they are in positions that enable them to do so. I suppose it should be expected that Kelly would find this statistical reality to be an incredible coincidence, though, since her entire worldview is founded on a series of incredible improbabilities occurring for no reason at all. Life must be interesting for the atheist, coming as it does as a series of totally unexpected, completely unconnected surprises.

I don’t know about you, good Reader, but if all I had to believe about life was that it was an improbable result of unpredictable reactions that occurred for no particular reason, I’d probably be an alcoholic….like Christopher Hitchens.

Update: Welcome, WebElf readers!

In reading through an excellent tome by James Stuart Bell, which is comprised of excerpts from the various books that were found in the personal library of one Clive Staples Lewis — yes, of Narnia fame. From the Library of C. S. Lewis is an amazing book full of all kinds of spiritual reflections, principally from Christian thinkers, theologians, and authors who shaped and guided Lewis along his journey into, and then through, the Christian faith.

This morning, on the bus to work, I came across this passage, an excerpt from a writing by C. F. D. Moule, an Anglican priest and theologian who passed away last year at the age of 98.

In Rev 7:14 there is mention of those who have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. This, of course, is applicable to all Christians as such: we all owe our cleansing to that blood. But if, as is sometimes held, this passage refers specially to martyrs, then I suggest — though this is only a guess — that it is possible that we are confronted with a striking example of the way in which Christ’s once-and-for-all sacrifice might be, in certain circumstances, spoken of as repeated in each act of human obedience joined with his.

The martyr’s own blood, shed in faithfulness to the Lord, turns out to be the blood of the Lamb. When their blood flowed, behold it was the blood of the Lamb. Their sacrifice was united with his — not as though theirs were independently redemptive or added anything to his, but in the sense that, being united, believer and Lord are, in that sense, one: his blood is their blood, their blood his. The blood whith is the sacrament of obedience is the Lord’s blood: the wine which is the sacrament of obedience is, in that sense, the Lord’s blood.

Now, Moule was (again), an Anglican, and so did not entirely share the Catholic view of the bread and wine. And yet, I think he grasped that there was more to them than just a symbolic remembrance of The Last Supper as well, and I think this moved him to postulate a reason as to how it might be possible that in partaking of the bread and wine, we might still be able to eat and drink the bread and wine whilst discerning in them the body of Jesus (c.f. 1 Corinthians 11:27-29).

In reading his conclusion, or rather his conjecture, I got the sense that he was correct about the link between the blood of the martyrs and the blood of Christ, but initially I couldn’t quite wrap my head around what that link might be. However, when Moule notes, of martyrs, that “[Christ's] blood is their blood, their blood his,” and then goes on to note that “in that sense” the wine from the altar is the blood of the Lord, I think he’s on to something…and that he doesn’t quite go far enough.

It is probably impossible to fully convey, in writing, the magnitude and meaning of what we receive in the Eucharistic meal; in the breaking of the bread and pouring of the wine, we remember Christ, and in the consecration of same we participate — both again and anew — in the one true sacrifice that Christ made for the salvation of all. In receiving Christ, we are thus not merely remembering Him, but committing ourselves to Him, uniting ourselves with Him, and in some sense even becoming as He was.

In essence, then, what Moule notes above about the blood of martyrs must happen in the Eucharist — in taking the wine which now is blood, we surrender our own blood, and our blood becomes Christ’s blood (and His ours).

Which should mean, if we are honest about our beliefs, that in receiving Christ, we boldly declare that we are fully ready — even willing — to perish as He did, not for our own glory, but for the glory of God and for our love of others (c.f. John 15:13)

In essence then, our participation in the Eucharist — in the feast of the body and blood of the Lord — becomes a preparation for martyrdom. In receiving that most blessed meal, we pledge that we stand ready — prepared, as it were, in heart, mind, and soul — to offer up everything, even our life, for the glory of God. And perhaps we should thus reflect that if we are not able — in heart, mind, and soul — to confess our willingness to put the Lord even before our own life, we should perhaps abstain from reception of the most blessed of the Sacraments.

And when we do receive the most blessed sacrament, perhaps we should reflect on the fact that at times, the Christian call includes the call to martyrdom. Perhaps we should make it a part of our prayers, that day and whenever the moment comes upon us, to ask the Lord for the strength and courage we may one day need to face, boldly, those who would do us harm for our confession unto Christ.

Update: Welcome, WebElf readers!

I got into something of a dust-up with some non-denominational types over the issue of the Old Covenant and the Church’s teaching that the Old Covenant between God and the Jewish people is fixed and irrevocable, and that the Jewish people who live in that covenant offer up a response to God as well.

Essentially, it’s a teaching that the salvation Christ brings extends also to the Jews, the first to hear the Word of God, by means of the Old Covenant and the law of Moses. I’m sure the good Reader can see why such an idea would trigger a good dust-up with those who take a rather simpler view of the Christian faith.

Now, the Reader can relax a bit: I’m not going to go into a lengthy explanation of the Catholic position today. But I wanted to remark on something I tripped over on my stroll through the blogs this morning, which I think is relevant.

At the end of a post that begins with a discussion of the tripartite division of the Temple, and how this relates to Mount Sinai, Michael Barber notes that there is a certain parallelism in the words Moses uses in bestowing the Old Covenant on the people, and the words that Christ uses in giving the New Covenant in His blood:

Key to all of this is the covenant ratification ceremony of Exodus 24–a passage Jesus’ likely alludes to at the Last Supper:

Mark 14:23: “And he took a cup, and when he had given thanks he gave it to them, and they all drank of it. [24] And he said to them, “This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many” (cf. Matt 26:28).

Exod 24:8: “And Moses took the blood and threw it upon the people, and said, “Behold the blood of the covenant which the Lord has made with you in accordance with all these words.” [Targum Pseudo-Jonathan on this verse reads, "This is the blood of the covenant"].

Much could be said here [wait for my dissertation!], but suffice it to say, if Jesus is linking the Eucharist with Exodus 24 the implications are huge.

If the Sinai experience was a Temple experience in which God’s presence came to be with His people, how much more real is God’s presence with His people in the Eucharistic celebration?

The short answer would be: very real, perhaps even terrifyingly real. I previously discussed the institution of the Eucharist by Christ, and His revelation in the breaking of the bread, from a purely Scriptural point of view, and would suggest to the Reader that it is beyond doubt that Christ does literally become present in the bread and wine in the Mass. It’s still a bold declaration of faith to say so, but Scripture supports the conjecture.

Some Catholics probably also understand the Eucharist as a re-participation in the New Covenant that Christ instituted at The Last Supper. But perhaps there is a deeper significance, one that relates the New Covenant back to the old, and thus makes the Eucharist a re-participation in that older promise between God and man as well.

I’m going to take a day’s break from all the brouhaha that normally percolates through the blog here. It’s Friday, and it’s a good time to turn my thoughts away from the matters that trouble the world which I inhabit, and the orbits I find myself in. It would be nice to start preparing myself for Sunday, for Mass, and for yet another encounter with the Lord.

I’m talking, of course, about Eucharist, the source and summit of Christian faith. And also, both inside and outside of Catholicism, one of the most misunderstood aspects of the faith.

Catholicism makes what seems, initially, to be a very bold claim: that Christ Jesus literally becomes present in the breaking of the bread at each and every Mass, that the bread and wine cease to be bread and wine, retaining only the “accidental” (to use the Aristotelean term) of qualities of each — the bread and wine still look like bread and wine, and still taste like it. But, contrary to the “if it quacks like a duck” thinking of the rest of the world around us, Catholics nevertheless boldly assert that despite the fact that the bread and wine seem, by all appearances, to still be bread and wine, they are in fact anything but.

It’s a bold declaration of complete faith…faith not in the Church (as an institution), nor faith in the priest, nor faith in the wafer itself. No, it is a declaration of faith in Christ, an affirmation of the Catholic belief that Christ really is Lord and King of all creation, and the He does so love the world — and everyone in it — that He desires to draw to Him those who profess their need for Him.

Equally, it is a declaration of faith in a Christ whose love and desire to be in communion with those who profess their need for His promise of salvation and forgiveness of sin that He will make Himself present to them, in keeping with His promise that He would be in the midst of any number who gather in His name. We all must die in due course and will, in so doing, end up before the Lord. But prior to that, Christ — out of love — elects to come into our presence too. His love for humanity is so great, and His desire to be in communion with us so powerful, that He will step down, but for a moment, to be with us in our present-tense reality, appearing before us in a guise at once hidden and yet obvious, as surely as He appeared to the disciples walking on the road to Emmaus.

It’s a powerful belief. But then, Christ is Lord and King of all creation — it is proper that a teaching pertaining to the direct intersection of Christ and the world is powerful.

Within Scripture, the first hints of the Eucharist are presented in the Gospel of John, in chapter 6. The close association between the Eucharistic revelation and the Paschal Meal is at once obvious.

[4] Now the Passover, the feast of the Jews, was at hand.
[5] Lifting up his eyes, then, and seeing that a multitude was coming to him, Jesus said to Philip, “How are we to buy bread, so that these people may eat?”
[6] This he said to test him, for he himself knew what he would do.
[7] Philip answered him, “Two hundred denarii would not buy enough bread for each of them to get a little.”
[8] One of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, said to him,
[9] “There is a lad here who has five barley loaves and two fish; but what are they among so many?”
[10] Jesus said, “Make the people sit down.” Now there was much grass in the place; so the men sat down, in number about five thousand.
[11] Jesus then took the loaves, and when he had given thanks, he distributed them to those who were seated; so also the fish, as much as they wanted.
[12] And when they had eaten their fill, he told his disciples, “Gather up the fragments left over, that nothing may be lost.”
[13] So they gathered them up and filled twelve baskets with fragments from the five barley loaves, left by those who had eaten.
[14] When the people saw the sign which he had done, they said, “This is indeed the prophet who is to come into the world!”
[15]Perceiving then that they were about to come and take him by force to make him king, Jesus withdrew again to the mountain by himself.

These are not usually the verses cited in any apologetic concerning the Eucharist, but I would like to preface my analysis by noting the significance of the event within them. A large multitude has gathered to see and hear the teachings of Jesus, and Jesus — deeply moved — worries after the need of the people to eat. There is precious little food available to achieve that end, of course — to feed five thousand, two loaves and five fishes would amount to mere crumbs per person.

And so Jesus effects a miracle, both as a sign to the people and as a test of faith for the disciples. I’ve always thought the scene’s portrayal in Jesus of Nazareth captured the mood of the disciples perfectly, and I am still struck by the image of the apostle John holding forth an empty basket, apologizing that what little is in it is all he has. And yet, when the camera pans back to the basket, it is overflowing.
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I’m not a convert to Catholicism, so I don’t get deluged with emails urging me to revert to the “true”, “Biblical” faith that I abandoned by becoming Catholic. So in that way, I can’t relate to what Mark Shea is talking about in this article.

But in the web forums I post to, I am unapologetic and open concerning my Catholicism, and I find that on a cycle almost as predictable as the cycle of atheistic commentators here at Time Immortal, I am periodically deluged by well-meaning, if misinformed, fundamentalists urging me to abandon the false, man-made teachings of Rome in favour of true, “Biblical” Christianity and the inerrant, preserved Word of God that is the King James Version of the Bible.

And in such matters, I take Mark Shea’s response as my own:

Almost every other day, it seems, I will open my e-mail and find something like this specimen (culled from my “deleted” file):

Dear Mark, just came from your Web site and have some questions. It sounds like you were a “Protestant” before becoming a Catholic? I don’t know which church you were in but I have to question whether you were ever taught the Word of God there? If you had been in a church which taught the truth concerning Baptism according to the Word of GOD and not the “traditions of men” you would have learned that not only does baptism NOT save nor “grant justification” but it is ONLY for those who ARE BORN-AGAIN by the SPIRIT of GOD by placing their faith in the LORD JESUS CHRIST! It is to be symbolic of the new birth ALREADY ACCOMPLISHED by GOD as Romans 6 clearly teaches! PLEASE READ the Gospel of John and pray asking GOD to show you HIS TRUTH — HE LOVES THE WORLD and DESIRES TO SAVE the LOST — which we all are apart from the New Birth which IS FREELY offered to ALL! Please read and be saved! I will be praying for you in JESUS Name. Carolyn

You have to wonder what is going through the minds of people who write such stuff. What do they think they are accomplishing?

One is terribly tempted to reply: “The Word of God? What’s that? Never heard of such a thing. Is that, like, the Bible? We used to read something called a ‘Bible,’ I think, at our old Church. But that was an awfully long time ago.

“Boy, thanks for setting me straight. I have never ever ever heard before that Jesus Christ loves me and desires to save the lost with His free gift of grace! I always thought that I had to perform magical rituals to make God love me. But now that you have so thoughtfully set me straight, I see clearly that when that big black book we used to read in my old church-that-never-taught-me-the-Bible says ‘Baptism now saves you’ (1 Pet 3:21) what it means is ‘Baptism does not save you.’

“And thanks also for explaining that when Romans 6 says, ‘All of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death,’ and ‘We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, so that as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life,’ this has absolutely nothing whatever to do with Baptism. I really appreciate your setting me straight on that as well.

“And finally, thanks for making me see that all that stuff in John 3 about being born again of water and the Spirit really means water and the Spirit are complete opposites.

“Golly. It is so good to finally — after all these years — have somebody who really teaches the Word of God clue me in. Who would have thought that all those years of studying . . . what’s that big black book called again? Ah yes! ‘The Bible.’ Anyway, who would have thought that all those years of studying the Bible could have left me so totally ignorant of what Scripture really means? Thanks ever so much for enlightening me.”

Yes, kind of facetious and tongue-in-cheek. But sometimes, that’s all one can do to respond to the misguidedly overzealous persons one encounters on this big, wide internet.

Not that an atheistic government would persecute people of faith living under it or anything. Because we know, from history, that such atrocities have never happened.

And certainly, these German protesters give us no reason to think differently.

In what has been described as a blatant act of “Christianophobia,” a group of protestors physically and verbally assaulted some of the 15 thousand Christians peacefully gathered for the April 30 opening day of the Christival German youth festival.

About 450 gathered into a No Christival group protest procession only hundreds of meters from the Christian youth event, reported christianophobia.eu. About 100 of the self-described “antisexist alliance” protestors broke down barricades, while other No Christival members set off fireworks.

German chants of “No God, no state, no patriarchy”, “Masturbation instead of evangelization,” and “Never again Jesus“ filled the air together with speaker announcements that compared the gathered Christians to Nazis.

No Christival flyers also accused the hosts of Christival of holding “extreme conservative and right wing world views that are characterized by literal bible interpretation, homophobia and sexism”.

Attacks on Christians continued throughout the festival that concluded May 4.

If I had to sum up post-Christianity in two words, the two words I would use would be: pelvic issues. Seriously, you’d think that for some people, sex was the new deity.

If, you know, they weren’t so hasty to deny any belief in any kind of deity.

Singing in the Reign has an interesting analysis of the similarities between Christ’s commission to His disciples — the Apostles and all of us who are, today, called His disciples — and the priesthood of the Levites.

The Levites are priests but only at the cost of kin and property.

Indeed, the similarities are striking. The Levites have had to renounce (”he did not acknowledge”) their own family members — father, mother, brother. Likewise, Jesus explains that his disciples must renounce “father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters”.

His disciples therefore are called to be spiritual priests. In this his disciples fulfill the original vocation of Israel, described in Exodus 19:6: “you shall be to me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.” However, because of their idolatry the priesthood went only to the Levites.

1 Peter explains that this vocation now belongs to believers: “?But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, that you may declare the wonderful deeds of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light” (1 Pet 2:9).

Believers are called to be priests. But what does it mean to be a priest? Hebrews 8:3 helps here: “every high priest is appointed to offer gifts and sacrifices.” A priest offers sacrifices.

If believers are called to be priests they are called to offer a sacrifice — themselves.

This is interesting, especially when considered in parallel with the Catholic doctrine that stipulates a celibate priesthood.

Romans 12 explains: “I appeal to you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship” (Rom 12:1).

Believers fulfill their vocation through offering up their own lives as sacrifices–especially by suffering. 1 Peter goes on to make this clear:

Since therefore Christ suffered in the flesh, arm yourselves with the same thought, for whoever has suffered in the flesh has ceased from sin, ?2? so as to live for the rest of the time in the flesh no longer by human passions but by the will of God… ?12? Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal which comes upon you to prove you, as though something strange were happening to you. ?13? But rejoice in so far as you share Christ’s sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed” (1 Pet 4:1-2, 12-13).

A few days ago I wrote a post on the Church as the Heavenly Temple. I cited Peter’s words about the Church as a spiritual temple. I believe this post is related to that theme. Discipleship means priesthood — it means self-sacrifice.

Or in Jesus’ words: “Take up your cross and follow me.”

And we come again to the issue of suffering. It’s astounding to think that modern atheist thought still holds forth with the tired old yarn that the existence of suffering is somehow antithetical to the Judeo-Christian concept of God. Time and again, Scripture demonstrates that suffering is not set apart from the human experience in the design of God, but an integral part of it.

In a way, it’s rather an extension of the observation that death gives meaning to life; life is precious because it ends. So too is suffering a necessary opposite within God’s plan; joy is meaningless in its absence.

Islamist blogger Shaukat Khawja really, really doesn’t like Jews — so much so, in fact, that he would rather that Theodor Herzl’s proposal that all Jews convert (or be converted) to Christianity had gone through back in its day.

Got that? A radical Muslim so hates the Jews that he would rather they had all been converted into infidel Christians, instead of being allowed to remain Jews.

And why?

Speaks Shaukat:

The history of the world would have been so peacefully different if the propsed mass Baptism of European Jewry had gone through.

Because clearly, Jews are responsible for all the wars of the world, right?

How much more true would Shaukat’s statement be, I wonder, were it modified to allow for the possibility that Muhammad had been killed in a tribal skirmish just prior to his first “visitation” from whatever demonic entity decided to temporarily assume the identity of Gabriel?

Update: Welcome, Steynians!

Update - the Meltdown: I seem to have touched a nerve, as Shaukat has now done two things. He had begun by demonstrating the maturity I have come to expect from him now, on par with that of a twelve-year-old casting angry aspersions from atop a playground. But following that up, he says a couple of…well, to be honest, his statements are gems in their own right.

For example:

Without going into Biblical treatment of Jews, which quotes contempt coming from Moses, Jesus, and St. Paul - I wonder why Jews were expelled from almost every European country — England topping the list — expulsion of Jews for almost 350 years. Could it be interpreted as a sign of Christians’ love or hatred towards Jews - and for what reasons???

Poor grammar aside, it is interesting that Shaukat chose to mention Moses — the man who, arguably, was the instrument by which God established the foundations of Judaism — as an example of one who has only demonstrated “contempt” for Jews. I suppose a narrow reading of, for example, the Book of Exodus could lead one to think that, since Moses does spend quite a bit of time castigating the Hebrew people for their sinfulness.

But then, the Hebrew people did sinful things in the desert, not the least of which was to build a golden calf and worship it. Humanity as a whole regularly sins, and periodically needs to be corrected, sometimes harshly. Certainly, Jesus and St. Paul both give example of this, as did Moses in his day.

Following Shaukat’s odd statement, though, is a list of dates in history that supposedly demonstrate Christian persecution of Jews. And, to be fair, many of the dates he lists do in fact accurately mention instances of persecution of Jews by Christian religious authorities. Other dates he lists, however, do not belong on the list.
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Dinesh D’Souza talks about his debate with atheist Peter Singer, who is an advocate for what could be called “post-term abortion” and, bizarrely, animal rights. Singer’s arguments in favour of abortion and the legalization of infanticide are infused with comparisons between the unborn (or the newborn) human and different animals at similar stages of development. Working from the conclusion that, “at any stage of pregnancy,” the “calf, the pig, and the much-derided chicken come out well ahead of the fetus,” Singer demonstrates what D’Souza terms an exploration of “the consequences of living in a truly secular society, devoid not only of the Christian God but also of Christian Morality.”

And indeed, I would argue that Singer’s various assertions are certainly, shall we say, logical outcomes of atheist thought, especially as applied to morality. If, after all, the human being is just another animal driven primarily by instinct, then things like abortion and infanticide aren’t rights, nor should they be illegal — they’re just facts of being, about as strange in humans as they are in other species that are sometimes known to eat or kill their young in certain circumstances.

And indeed, as both D’Souza and Singer point out, some human societies — certain African animist tribes, for example — practice that reality, occasionally killing unwanted children.

One could go into a lengthy discussion of how Singer’s reasoning is also self-destructive, since it bestows on the religious majority the “right” to remove, by any means necessary, the irreligious element within its midst free from legal or moral consequence. It is fortunate for Singer, then, that he is ultimately incorrect.

But I’m not going to elaborate on that point, because something else struck me today which I would prefer to remark upon. As noted, Singer and D’Souza mention that certain African tribes — who adhere to primitive, animistic religions — engage in child-murder and infanticide on occasion. One is led to believe that the ancient (pagan) Spartans also engaged in such practice.

And indeed, in modern times, while most atheists do not slaughter their own children when some perceived “need” for it arises (save in cases of abortion, of course), the same cannot be said, it seems, for many who follow the Islamic faith. And yes, I know that honour killings are supposed to be a cultural thing, not a religious thing. Heck, a day after this story was printed, the same newspaper (the Guardian) ran a story denying the link between Islam and honour killing.

And yet:

Two weeks after The Observer revealed the shocking story of Rand Abdel-Qader, 17, murdered because of her infatuation with a British solider in Basra, southern Iraq, her father is defiant. Sitting in the front garden of his well-kept home in the city’s Al-Fursi district, he remains a free man, despite having stamped on, suffocated and then stabbed his student daughter to death.

Abdel-Qader, 46, a government employee, was initially arrested but released after two hours. Astonishingly, he said, police congratulated him on what he had done. ‘They are men and know what honour is,’ he said.

Rand, who was studying English at Basra University, was deemed to have brought shame on her family after becoming infatuated with a British soldier, 22, known only as Paul.

…

‘Death was the least she deserved,’ said Abdel-Qader. ‘I don’t regret it. I had the support of all my friends who are fathers, like me, and know what she did was unacceptable to any Muslim that honours his Religion,’ he said.

Now let’s do a little compare-and-contrast, shall we?

Here’s Peter Singer:

“My colleague Helga Kuhse and I suggest that a period of twenty-eight days after birth might be allowed before an infant is accepted as having the same right to life as others.”

Here’s Abdel-Qader Ali, father of the murdered girl:

‘If I had realised then what she would become, I would have killed her the instant her mother delivered her.’

Do I perceive an agreement between the ideals of these two men, at least in passing?

I know that Christianity has its share of example of followers of the religion who have done horrible things. But equally, I observe that nowhere in mainstream Christian thought is the topic of when child-murder is and is not permissible ever brought up; murder, in all its forms, is as immoral now as it was in Jesus‘ time, and for good reason.

And I can’t help but think that the further one gets from Christ, the more tolerable the idea of allowing murder, even the murder of one’s own child, becomes. For all his barbarity, Abdel-Qader Ali murdered his daughter in response to a perceived transgression. For Peter Singer, no motivation would need to be stated, and no transgression required, to justify the act.

In some respects, it means less, now, to be a mother than it once did. I do not mean, in saying that, that those women who are mothers are possessed of less worth than their own mothers were; no, their worth is the same, and their “act” of being mothers equally noble and dignified.

I mean, instead, that so much which would have at one time been thought of as a nigh-unthinkable antithesis of motherhood — no-fault divorce, abortion-on-demand, the proliferation of birth control — has become nothing more, nor anything less, than a series of common commercial products in our society, as easily obtained as a pack of cigarettes once was (one could glibly note that today, in stark contrast to obtaining an abortion, one must still present convincing proof of age in excess of 18 years in order to obtain cigarettes legally).

And to an event and “product,” each of those things in some way flies in the face of motherhood. Divorce deprives it of its logical, biological, necessary opposite — fatherhood. Abortion abruptly ceases the natural course of nurturing and, in due time, birthing a child — it prevents one entirely from becoming a mother. And birth control attempts to circumvent the possibility that, through allowing the sexual act between one man and one woman to run its natural course, motherhood might result from the conjugal act.

But I wonder…could all this have been predicted, say, from some distant moment in history?

David Warren reflects, in his usual oblique way, on Mother’s Day through the lens of she who is the mother of us all: Mary, Mother of Christ, Mother of God:

In a sentence, the veneration of Mary is an inevitable extension of the worship of Christ: for if there is God the Son, there must be a Mother of God. Or to be plainer still, in line with the Council of Ephesus in 431 A.D. — the human “Jesus,” and the divine “Christ,” are not two different persons. They are one and the same, and He was the Son of God, and of Mary.

Hence the extraordinary veneration of Mary, from the earliest Christian times, and through the centuries — so powerful that even the Muslims, appearing from the 7th century A.D., also venerate her. And long, long before even Christianity dawned upon the world, she is anticipated in every “Mother Goddess” known to anthropology.

A Darwinist, or a Jungian, or sociobiologist, or whatever, may hold that this is all merely a projection of the big raw fact of human motherhood — onto a cosmos that is fearfully beyond the comprehension of the primitive human mind. This hypothesis has the glib plausibility that is required to monopolize teaching in the academy, today. It is itself a view of considerable antiquity, and the anthropologists have discovered essentially atheist primitive tribes.

This is a “secular” newspaper and I am only dealing with the pragmatic consequences of religious beliefs. What is the consequence of Marian “idolatry” (as my Protestant ancestors would call it, while turning in their graves), or as I would characterize it, the veneration of “Sancta Maria, Mater Dei” that has animated so much of this world’s most magnificent art and poetry?

Its practical effect is to found all our intellectual and emotional ideas about motherhood, deep as they are, in something still deeper. It is to believe that real substance and significance underlies our natural love for our own human mothers, that it is not simply a biological quirk to be explained away by a few material causes. That it is instead the profoundest echo of what Dante finally called, “l’ amor che move il sole e l’ alter stele” — “the Love that moves the sun and the other stars.”

Buy into that, and one’s own human mother is not reduced to a mechanism of “sexual selection” (to quote a zoological sage of the century before last), nor arbitrarily salvaged with the tearjerk posturing of a card. She is rather enlarged to her true proportions.

Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.

Were I of a combative mindset, I might speculate that one could have reasoned, from the first moment Protestant thought began to turn against Mary and Marian adoration (it serves to note that the first Reformer, Luther, was a devoutly Marian in his personal practice of Christian faith), that all this secular nightmare would come to pass. It is a tenuous thing to suggest, and not easily defensible.

But I wonder if there isn’t, inherent in that historical rejection of Mary as the Mother of All (and, indeed, the Mother of God) that so infused Protestantism during its formative decades, to be found the seeds of modern secular society’s rejection of motherhood on principle.

BeliefNet has an interview with Ron Moore, the mastermind behind the new iteration of Battlestar Galactica that I have been watching with avid interest. The topic of discussion is the Theology of the show, which is both a timely topic (given the intensifying religious debate that is shaping up as the show continues through its fourth, and last, broadcast season) and also a necessary discussion.

I’ve been trying to ferret out, for months, exactly where Moore is attempting to take the religion in the show, but one consistent thought I’ve had in all that time is that I really do want to applaud how he has handled the issue in its entirety. Outside of Babylon 5, very few science fiction series have ever really handled the issue of religion in any serious fashion (Deep Space Nine, which Moore also worked on, is the one exception I can think of), and indeed too much of science fiction seems predicated on the assumption that religion will go the way of the dodo by the time humanity well and truly takes to the stars.

I guess that’s why it’s called “fiction,” but still.

Some viewers say the show stereotypes fundamentalist Christians as kind of robotic, while others are saying, “This is great…pagans are finally the good guys!”

The parallels between the Cylon beliefs and fundamentalist Christian beliefs, yeah, there are certain aspects of it there, but there’s also the roots of the drama, also contains things such as Al Qaeda’s use of its religious practice to justify what it does. That’s part of who the Cylons are too, they aren’t just really stalking horses for fundamentalist Christianity.

There also seem to be elements of Eastern religions in the show with Leoben Conoy, another Cylon, talking about consciousness and reincarnation. Does each of the different models of Cylons represent a different religious point of view?

I think that’s true. Part of the idea of Leobon was to separate it from easy stereotypes of Christian beliefs. There wasn’t really a hierarchical church, there wasn’t an easy notion of Heaven and Hell. Leoben was starting to talk about things that were more Buddhist — consciousness, Enlightenment and reincarnation. I thought it was interesting to marry those notions to the idea of one deity.

As to Moore’s own religious views:

Do your own religious views shape the story lines?

I’m an Irish Catholic, not practicing. It probably just reflects my interest in my movement from Catholicism to atheism to agnosticism to interest in Eastern religions. I think the show is a reflection of my acknowledgement that faith and Religion are a part of the human experience, even if I’m not quite clear on exactly what it all means and what I truly believe. The most direct reflection of me in the show is this idea that when the Cylons became self-aware, when they became sentient, when they became people, they began to ask themselves the existential questions: “Why am I here? What is this all about? Is this all that I am? Is there something more?”

My view is that that’s fundamental to a thinking person. And that inevitably leads you to questions of faith and religion and “what will happen to me when I die?”

…

There’s been a lot of chatter on the message boards about the spiritual character of the show, with many people saying they enjoy it.

It’s fun to do a science-fiction series that isn’t just dealing with secular matters. I’m really glad people are responding to it.

I might not agree with Ron Moore’s personal religious convictions, but I applaud him heartily for putting things in this way. The show sets up very nicely many religious discussions, and even in the last couple of episodes there is a great example that one could draw upon.

In looking at Gaius Baltar’s newfound zeal for preaching monotheism amongst the Colonial population, one can draw certain parallels between that monotheism and Christianity. And yet, at the core of the monotheistic sentiments is a doctrine which is actually a logical inversion of Christianity. For whereas Baltar teaches that…

God only loves that which is perfect and he loves you. He loves you because you are perfect. You are perfect. Just as you are.

…Christianity teaches that God loves us in spite of our imperfections, that God — through Jesus — perfects that which he loves.

Things like this motivate a lot of thought, I find, and I think that’s something to be applauded in a television show, especially a science fiction show. Religion is an inescapable part of the human condition, and always has been; it is folly to think, like Gene Roddenberry did, that religion will disappear in due time. It won’t, and more importantly will continue to serve as an impetus for human action and reason for all ages yet to come.

Update: Welcome, WebElf readers!