Evil as "lack of good" is only part of the story

In Christian circles, evil has long been understood as the lack of good. Evil, we believe, is not a thing in itself, much like darkness is not a thing in itself but the absence of light. 

So far so good. But nature abhors a vacuum. When there is a lack of good, the vacancy does not remain empty. When a nation lacks god, it tends to create idols. If it lacks faith in any god, humans do not stop having a need for hope and trust. We may place that hope and trust in other things, or we may opt for cynicism, but the unmet need is going to make itself known either way. Love can also be replaced by different substitutes. The non-religious often consider sex to be the most available substitute for love, and hope that one will lead to the other. The religious (or the checklist-oriented seculars) may fall back on a dependency on rules, and so legalism becomes a cold substitute for love. 

This vacuum-effect plays out in so many ways. Someone may need respect -- and decide to buy the appearance of success, or pursue relative respect by congratulating themselves or putting down others. Someone may want a sense of well-being and obtain it through spending, or self-medication. Someone may want a life full of friends, and fill the emptiness by binge-watching content designed to camouflage emotional emptiness and fill it with the company of phantom friends. 

But the substitutes tend to leave us hungry for the real thing. Faith, hope, and love remain. The greatest of these is love. 

Today, may I notice if I have been using an artificial sweetener in my spiritual life, and seek the Lord. 

And on the third day ...

On Good Friday, we have a solemn service in remembrance of Jesus' death. And we do achieve solemnity. But we probably do not come anywhere close to the devastation and grief that the apostles felt when they first laid Jesus in the tomb. 

Because for whatever solemnity we observe on Friday, we likely have already made some preparations for the feast on Sunday. 

Whenever in life I find myself at the tomb, caught up in the devastation and grief, may I remember Good Friday -- and how hard it is to be overwhelmed with defeat when we are looking forward to a victory feast. 

Christ is risen!

He is risen indeed. Alleluia!

Schrodinger's Theology

This is a conversational response to a post over at Ken Schenck's blog, "The war of the 2 natures". As Mr Schenck writes, "After reading about the crazy battles that resulted in what we now call orthodoxy, there seem two possible conclusions: 1) God was behind the scenes making sure the right answers won out or 2) it's all a crap shoot and orthodox Christianity is a sham." I don't think that either of those statements represents the actual situation in which we find ourselves. To make this post accessible I'll back up the conversation enough to be self-introducing ... 

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Knowing God may be the highest goal of human thought. And there are countless people who have sought knowledge of God in nature, in meditation, from prophets or even from the Messiah, and (in absence of these) from holy texts. But eventually we come to a problem: after we run through all the material that we can learn from those sources, we have some questions that none of our sources directly answers. We may get hints or glimpses. We may get likelihood. We may even get strong probability. But once we have gone beyond what is spelled out by trusted materials, we rarely get certainty. I'll come back to this point as I wrap up. 

This isn't a new thought to the modern age; even in the apostolic age St Paul wrote that "we see through a glass, darkly." While that won't stop us trying to see, it rightly leads to humility about the precision of our speculations. It's like the recognition of significant digits in science: it's not right to claim a precision that outpaces our data. (Deeper dive on that.) 

With the common claim that "the winners write the history books," is the underlying cynicism justified in the case of Christian beliefs? What do we make of the early controversies in the church? 

I'd like to look at some of the ways in which the church has approached questions, going from more conclusive to less conclusive: 

• Some questions were addressed by Jesus during his earthly ministry. Almost all Christians consider these to be definitive answers. 
• Some questions were addressed by the apostles during their lifetimes. Since they knew Jesus in person, these are often considered definitive answers, especially when the answers were included in the canon of Scripture. Granted, some groups allow variation for how firmly various New Testament writings are accepted, with some groups having different status for the once-disputed books of the New Testament from the days when the canon of Scripture was still under review. 
• Some questions are addressed directly by Scripture and there is only one view in Scripture. 
• Some questions had clear and widespread support from the earliest church while the opposing view was a late-introduced novelty. There was an ancient test whether beliefs had been held "everywhere, always, and by all," with the understanding that there could be asterisks for outliers, while providing a framework to objectively identify those outliers. 
• Some questions are not addressed directly by Scripture, and are instead inferred. These are answered based on a preponderance of evidence from Scripture and compatibility with known facts. 
• And some controversies are not answered directly by Scriptures, and the preponderance of evidence is not clean or not conclusive. 

From the earlier approaches, the church of Christ has a great body of teachings which are held solidly, without being open to the charge that it's merely a winner's privilege. 

In the later categories we get into more contested territory. This tends to happens when we are asking questions that Scripture never directly addresses, for example the relationship of the human and divine within Christ. It is especially problematic when we are asking questions that Jesus never addressed, that were never considered during the apostolic age, and where the earliest church is silent. In these cases we are left with a handful of tangential verses as we try to infer where they lead, with little to no guidance from trusted sources. I'll come back to that. 

Mr Schenck notes that "[t]he century between Nicaea (325) and Chalcedon (451) primarily argued over the two natures of Christ". I've mentioned before that I mark Chalcedon (451 A.D.) as the date when the "one holy catholic and apostolic church" became damaged; as a result the answers to those doctrinal questions (and new questions since) have been problematic. (Deeper dive on that.) After Chalcedon, those particular points of orthodoxy were upheld less by consensus and more by risk of excommunication. In my opinion, that is the point at which we ought to have admitted we outran our data, and come back to "seeing through a glass darkly." I would not say that every view advanced on the topic held equal validity; some views ultimately might have been considered out-of-bounds. But there is room for a collegial approach where the School of Alexandria has one view and the School of Rome holds another, on how the human and divine interact. 

To go back to the point I mentioned at the outset: We have some questions that none of the holy texts directly answers. We may get hints or glimpses. We may get likelihood. We may even get strong probability. But beyond what is spelled out by trusted materials, we no longer get certainty. The issue to me is not whether the right or wrong arguments won out; it's why we define "orthodoxy" so much in terms of issues that are beyond the scope of what we were given, where there is no indication that either Christ or his apostles considered the question (as we frame it) important. The problem goes deeper than whether we have the right answers to the questions we are asking. I'm fairly sure our relentless pursuit of non-Scriptural questions means we are not pursuing the best questions. 

Knowing God may be the highest goal of human thought. But are we pursuing that knowledge through how God has revealed himself, and letting his self-revelation set the curriculum for what we learn? What would happen if we tried? I believe we are called to the theology that Christ has taught, and the orthodoxy that the apostles proclaimed. 

"The abundance of the heart" for good or evil

How can you speak good, when you are evil? For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks. (Matthew 12:34)

There were people who had seen Jesus heal a man who was blind and mute, and saw that Jesus had driven out a demon from the man. So Jesus' opponents accused that he was demonic, to explain why he had power over the demons. Did they believe themselves and their accusations? Only God knows that. I suspect that the decision to be "against" whatever Jesus did put them in a tough spot: they had to oppose whatever he did. 

This is the conversation in which Jesus reminds us: we know a tree by its fruit. The surrounding material is "A tree is known by its fruit.... The good person out of his good treasure brings forth good, and the evil person out of his evil treasure brings forth evil." (Matthew 12:35)

In the face of a miraculous good, the response of his opponents was an accusation of absolute evil. This pattern isn't uncommon, when evil accuses those who do good. Someone whose own conscience is uneasy may produce a steady stream of accusations against others. And the easily misled will be misled. 

When we say that someone "speaks from the heart" we generally mean they speak honestly and earnestly. Yet it is possible that someone can be honestly and earnestly a mess. 

"Speaking from the heart" reveals the heart. And our human hearts are not always an oasis of love. Whenever we dwell on fear or anger, we tend to speak words of fear or anger. Whenever we think too much of our own value, we speak too much of our own value. Whenever we think about enmity towards other people, we tend to speak about enmity toward other people. It's not as if our thoughts and words are far separate. 

Or as St Paul once said to identify better things and "think on these things." (Philippians 4:8)

Recognizing the strategies of evil, the better to resist it

In the season of Lent, we turn to resisting the powers of evil. I'd like to start by surveying some tools and strategies of evil that we see in the Bible: 

1. Deception - whether outright lies, half-truths, or omissions, the intent is to mislead (see Genesis 3). As Jesus said of the devil: Lies are his native language (John 8:44).
2. Confusion - a half-truth can be more confusing than an outright lie (see Genesis 3). While an outright lie might lead to the target shutting down the conversation or walking away, a half-truth can lead to a follow-up conversation and leaves the door open. Paul points out that God is not the author of confusion (1 Cor 14:33)
3. Doubt - the goal may be to create doubt about someone's allegiance or intentions (again, see Genesis 3). 
4. Enmity and divisions - Following from the prior point (Genesis 3), doubt about someone's allegiance or intentions creates a division. Jesus is clear that he desires our unity (John 17). 
5. Accusations - One of the titles of the evil one is the Accuser (Revelation 12:10). It is an ironic thing when evil brings a temptation but then blames their victim if the temptation succeeds. When we see someone who has taken the bait of temptation, we are called to restore them gently and privately (Matthew 18:15-20). 
6. Some calamities - In the book of Job, we see that some calamities are to bring the temptation to fall away from trusting God
7. Other general temptations - Genesis 3 is not the only time we see the powers of evil bringing temptation. In the New Testament we see the tempter with Jesus in the wilderness (Matthew 4, Mark 1, Luke 4), starting off with the simple temptation to be self-serving with powers that are given him for the service of others. 

There are probably more. Feel free to add more in the comments! 

The faces of evil

This past Monday I was called for jury duty, which normally makes for an uninteresting morning in the jury pool followed by (usually) a week on call or (sometimes) a trip to a courtroom for voir dire, in which some lawyer (usually the prosecutor) decides they don't want a professional programmer/analyst on the jury. 

On Monday, the immense size of the potential-juror pool was the first sign of a high-stakes case. In round numbers, 100 of us were packed into the courtroom. The trial was for murder, and was legally a capital murder case because the victim was under 10 years of age. (That's based on the cutoff age in state law; the victim was roughly a year and a half old.) The state was not seeking the death penalty so the other allowable consequence under state law was life in prison. 

Whenever sitting through voir dire, it's interesting to focus on which arguments the lawyers are test driving. Clearly, the defense was arguing insanity. The defense seemed to be trying to carry the argument by shifting the mood to a blameless acceptance of an unfortunate tragedy, with the main tool being the defense attorney's stage presence. The defendant's unremorseful face wasn't helping the defense lawyer. When the defense lawyer asked the jury pool which of us simply did not care about the reason why a toddler was killed, I raised my juror number card -- I had plenty of company in that -- and was disqualified from the case. (Under state law, the insanity defense requires that at the time the actions took place, the person did not understand that the actions were wrong. If the defendant did not understand that that was wrong, that seemed possibly worse. A good percentage of the jury pool was disqualified for having that opinion.) 

As the non-selected jurors like me were dismissed, I had a lot of time to consider the faces of evil. The defendant who seemed unremorseful. The defense attorney who seemed cheerfully, craftily misleading,  and who seemed openly impatient when the prosecutor and judge had to call her back to the legal side of what she was allowed to say to the jury pool. The whispers in the jury pool about how unfortunate that the death penalty hadn't been sought and whether anything could be done for justice. My own growing feeling that, if the death penalty had been available, I might have been okay with that, even with the awareness that self-righteousness is one of the most common "winning" temptations for truly horrific acts. 

There is no one righteous; no, not one. 

The jury did return a conviction at the end of the week-long trial. That may be the closest to justice we can manage as mortals. 

Toolkit of verses for my own temptations

Last week's post reviewed the verses that Jesus employed to rebuke the tempter. 

My own temptations are different. Of course I'm as much at risk of temptation as any person is. Still I am confident that the tempter will never try to goad me to turn stones to bread or offer me the kingdoms of the world. 

So what are my own common temptations? What verses would I want to call to mind for the temptations I am likely to face? 

1. The temptation to over-rely on knowledge, or to consider it the most worthwhile thing for me to develop: 
   Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up. (I Corinthians 8:1)
   
   
2. The temptation to overvalue work, and to undervalue rest: 
   In six days you shall do all your work, and on the seventh you shall rest. (Exodus 20:9-10)
   
   If ever I faced the opposite temptation, to overvalue rest and undervalue work, it would also be a suitable verse. 
   
   
3. The temptation to anxiety about the future: 
   And who among you, by being anxious, can add a single hour to his life? (Matthew 6:27)
   
   
4. The temptation to resentment about ill-treatment, especially from people from whom I could (by relation) hope for fairness. 
   Let the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord. (Psalm 19:14)

I expect it would be a good practice for me to review what temptations I've faced each day, and review the places where I'm taught to fend it off.