Weapons of Warfare

In response to criticism leveled against them for not allowing comments, idthefuture has posted a “guest essay” by one Professor Falduh Rall, Ph.D., Dynamic Evolutionary Biohistory. When I say that the gloves are off, I sure mean it. Dr. Rall applauds ID for their clever slogan “teach the controversy,” then denies that any exists:

What’s the real explanation for the appearance of scientific controversy? The explanation is simplicity itself: The 400 Ph.D. scientists don’t exist. You can touch them, squeeze them, stuff a sock in their mouths and tell them to love Big Brother, but that doesn’t mean they’re really there.

How so? They’re not scientists. Ergo, the scientists aren’t there.

Now I’m sure you’ve fallen behind, so follow me very closely. Scientists are those scientists who understand there’s no scientific controversy. Any scientist who sees a scientific controversy isn’t. It’s called Catch Zero Zero.

Read more of the same if you like. It ain’t pretty.

In the paper this morning, an article that discussed why Latino voters were moving away from the Democratic party mentioned that many voters, both Catholic and evangelical, found themselves in agreement with the Republican stance on abortion and gay marriage. The content of the article was nothing surprising or new and doesn’t interest me. What interests me are the words I have emphasized. Catholic and evangelical. Why didn’t they say Protestant? Could it be that the media is finally wiseing up to the reality that many “mainstream” Protestant churchs don’t remotely resemble Biblical Christianity?

This is my final night in the land that has brought me such joy…

Clocks will be changed to US central timezone shortly.

I recently had the opportunity of catching up with an old high school teacher of mine. On learning that I was studying philosophy he launched into a diatribe that has become all too familiar to me, warning me of the dangers of studying the writings of non-Christians. I would have (kindly) brushed off most people, but there was a difference that day. He was a man that I respected and looked up to, and he knew more about the subject than most people do. So I listened, resisted, and even argued for a bit until we bore down to the roots of the disagreement, our presuppositions. What I found at his roots is what fascinated and disturbed me more than anything else in the discussion.

(more…)

Dembski strikes against Ygelsias and co. with his article, Neither Matter Nor Magic But Mind, but not everybody gets it. Heaven is not the sky responds with this:

…if Dembski is going to propose that instead these flagella spontaneously came into existence without interacting with any physical entities and without interacting with any matter or energy, then he ought to at least acknowledge that he is proposing an origin reminiscent of magical “poofing,” especially in the absence of any kind of coherent scientific explanation of how any intelligence can create a flagellum, non-supernaturally, without the use of matter, energy, or any interactions between them.

Of course, I’m only assuming that Dembski is assuming these flagella had to be created without the use of any matter, energy, or interactions between the two. But that’s a fair assumption, right? Otherwise why insist that “methodological materialism” is going to prevent you from discovering the truth about how flagella were made? It doesn’t prevent you from discovering the truth about how intelligent humans make things, does it?

My response:

I’m almost positive that your assumption is incorrect. Your final question points to the way that ID theorists might think of a designer working with the world.

ID does not presuppose magical “poofing” but that some form of intelligence has operated on life as we know it in the same way that human beings now operate on matter to make steel, plastics, or computers.

A computer could not, by any stretch of the imagination, assemble itself, but what is added to the environment so that is assembled is not magic or something supernatural, but an intelligent mind that organizes the component parts and brings them together in a structured way. In the same way, ID’s designer can be thought of as examining the raw chemical materials of the universe, applying his organizational abilites to this nonliving material, and then assembling it in a way that causes living material to emerge.

Make sense?

• I’ll admit that I’m feeling rusty and disatisfied with pretty much everything I’m writing lately, but if I can’t write, at least I can link, right?
• From the much-discussed Post article (hosted by Dr. John Mark Reynolds):
  

  Miller pauses a moment.

  “Look, I can admit that fossils might be the result of a super-intelligent or supernatural form — I’m a Red Sox fan. But it’s surely not very likely.”

  What do you have to say now, Dr. Miller?

• Discussing that same article is William Dembski—Dembski has a blog? What else have I missed?

  Dembski ponders:
  

  Note especially Dobbs’s claim: “The fact is, that evolution, Darwinism, is not a fully explained or completely rigorous and defined science that has testable results within it. ” This is an amazing concession by the mainstream media. If this keeps happening, Darwin’s public face will be permanently disfigured.

  And the responses flow…

The First Noble Truth with its three aspects is: “There is suffering, dukkha. Dukkha should be understood. Dukkha has been understood.”

Of all religious systems in the world that I have ever felt drawn to, Buddhism stands strongest—after what I know to be the Truth, Jesus Christ. There’s a reason that Buddhism has spread so widely from its roots in the thought of a wandering Indian aristocrat: its teachings begin very simply, speaking things that every person can relate to.

Any examination of Buddhism, the power in has in the East, and the growing influence it has over the West, must begin with what is most foundational in Buddhist thought: the Four Noble Truths. Go back and read the quote at the top of this article again.

What could be a simpler beginning than to say that suffering exists? Any system of belief that desires to be universal must appeal to something universal, and the existence of suffering certainly qualifies. Not only does every human being live with suffering in pain in their daily life, but each one seems to think that her own suffering is worse than any others. We are fascinated by the suffering of others, in part because by it we understand their humanity and equality with us—exactly the reason that Shakespeare’s tragedies have such lasting and widespread appeal.

As Ajahn Sumedho writes:

This is a very skilful teaching because it is expressed in a simple formula which is easy to remember, and it also applies to everything that you can possibly experience or do or think concerning the past, the present or the future.

As Mr. Sumedho says, everything in our experience has been touched by suffering. I do not say (and neither do Buddhists) that absolutely everything I go through is suffering or even that suffering overwhelms me every second of every day. Instead, I can understand that suffering is always present wherever joy exists. I can’t remember a time when I did not suffer, and I can’t realistically think of one when I will not (on this earth).

How does this idea and teaching line up with the revelation of Jesus Christ? This simple beginning taken by itself is quite compatible with Christianity, which in some ages has focused too much on earthly suffering and in others has focused too little, but has always accepted it as a part of life. Though Christianity and Buddhism will part ways rather soon, there is in this beginning an opening that every Christian should use when talking with anyone who is a Buddhist or follows some Buddhist thinking.

Debate with naturalists, humanists, or atheists sometimes founders before it even begins for lack of any common ground with which to begin to discuss. If a Christian can understand and use basic Buddhist teachings, she can use that starting point to drive home the vastly different solutions that each system proposes to the problem of suffering. And I remain confident in the supremacy of the upholder of all things, Jesus Christ.

Other Resources

http://www.buddhanet.net/4noble4.htm
http://www.thebigview.com/buddhism/fourtruths.html
http://www.4truths.com/first.html

• Joe Carter asks if postmodernism is a myth, then promptly goes on to say, with a delightful Spinal Tap homage, that postmodernism is nothing more than modernism pushed up a notch. Mumon responds. Myth or reality? I think it’s safe to say that the entire discussion is a sociological construct designed to limit my freedom. I decry semantics! But seriously: whether what-some-call-postmodernism is really just modernism up a notch or “something completely different,” the Church faces major issues from this new (or not new) philosophy (or non-philosophy). Postmodernism cannot be ignored and must not be embraced.
• Johnny-Dee observes that Lewis and Kierkegaard came up with remarkably similar ideas about the stages of life. This doesn’t surprise me terribly, but it was interesting.
• Speaking of Lewis, RazorsKiss discusses the use of his famous Trilemma. This powerful weapon is not one that can be thrown about willy-nilly, but has a specific application, specific target, and a specific set of conditions. How many times do I engage in a discussion and use an apologetic tool incorrectly or inefficiently? Too often a blundering application of something one has learned will merely suceed in convincing the person you are talking to that you’re just another incompetent Jesus-freak. Things could be worse than that, but they ought to be much better.

Spiritual Dryness

Why is it so hard to talk about? I may be wrong, but it seems to me that of all the topics that Christian thinkers think, write, or talk about, this must be at the top of the ‘practical’ list, that is, the list that people actually are interested in reacting, reading, or hearing about.

I am not one to eschew knotty theological problems or to dismiss intellectualism as not relevant to the Church, but sometimes scholars simply must get dirty if they want to connect with regular people. I’m no scholar, at least in the traditional sense, but I am forced now to talk about spiritual dryness–not because I want to pander to sentimentality, but because I cannot turn away from dryness–it is in me.

Why is it so hard to talk about, then? But perhaps it is not. My transitory lifestyle for the past few years has made it difficult for me to lay down any really solid roots in a bible study or a prayer group, and so when I find myself in a difficult place spiritually, I am at a loss where to turn. A believer who is connected in a community generally has someone who they can turn to, someone who they can be open with and share their struggles with; at the very least, they have a pastor whose job it is to do so, even if they feel uncomfortable approaching him.

But how many Christians are out there, possibly even reading this post, that have a stable life and home, have a decent or good church they are a part of, but do not feel connected to the body in the way that I have outlined—dare I say, in the way that we should? I do not know. It is my sincere hope that there are not many who find themselves in my position. It is also my hope that any who do might take some encouragment from this writing.

Whereas the Church is meant to be a place of openness and sharing, I find for myself that it is not. To me, the Church seems far too often judgmental, critical, legalistic, uncompassionate, and hypocritical. But I must legitimately consider the question of where this perception comes from. Is it from my own experiences? From other peoples’ stories? From media portrayals? Perhaps some of each is present in my thoughts.

Has the Church reacted so much to immorality in the world that it has emphasized morality to the point of ostracizing struggling saints? Have we listened—and understood—the message of Job? I could continue, but my questions boil down to one that I want to consider: How can the Church present itself as an attractive thing to those outside of it and yet maintain a standard of holiness?

What happens when a bad case of writer’s block intersects with a nasty virus? I don’t post for a few days, that’s what. As the title implies, I’m really not sure which is worse. I should be (physically) better in a few days; I don’t know about the other.