In the January 2007 issue of The Lutheran, in the “Letters to the editor” section on page 56, Kari Stadem of Blomkest, MN, wrote:

Upper- and lowercase

There are two kinds of evolution: Evolution with a capital E, the idea that people came from rocks by random chance over billions of years–and evolution with a small e, the theory that species adapt and change through random mutations and natural selection. I fully agree that evolution has been shown through scientific observation. But I strongly disagree that Evolution is anything but a religious view. It can’t be repeated because it’s a question of origins. It can never be observed because it supposedly takes billions of years. And it violates at least two of the most fundamental laws of science: the law of biogenesis (life only comes from life) and the second law of thermodynamics (everything in the universe is gradually increasing in chaos, not in order). Let’s get the whole question of origins out of the science classroom. It has no place there because it’s a question of history. Teach evolution, not Evolution, and I don’t think anyone will argue.

(I added the links in the text above.)

When I read this, I couldn’t help but say to myself, “This is exactly
right.” The argument shouldn’t be whether Intelligent Design or Evolution is
right: it’s unprovable, thus pointless. The question is really whether
Evolution (with the capital E) is actually science–clearly, it’s not. It’s a
set of beliefs held as true in the absence of observable facts. It’s a
religion. And, in a science classroom, as Kari points out, it has no
place.

It’s this kind of intelligent thinking and discussion that we need. Not
more useless debate as to whether Intelligent Design or Evolution is actually
correct: they’re both religions and neither are provable. Let people freely
believe what they want to believe. Lets just make sure that what’s taught in
the classroom as “science” truly is just that.

Tags:
religion,
science,
Intelligent Design,
Evolution

So, for the past several months I’ve been playing guitar with the Sunday school children at church. It’s been going really well and it’s helped me get more comfortable playing in front of people, which is good. We’ve done all sorts of songs, like “Fishers of Men” and “Away in a Manger” … the kids are just fantastic.

I also joined the church choir in December, so this was my first Christmas where I was more involved than just being there. It definitely amplifies the amount of frenzy of the December holidays it was surprisingly gratifying to be part of it all. I think I really felt the Christmas spirit this year: the sense of togetherness, of celebration, of anticipation and love.

I still find myself humming the songs we sang for Christmas choir. I know myself well enough that I’ll forget the relevant details to be able to remember these songs a month from now, so I’m just going to jot it down in the blog here, so I can find it again later. We sang “Angels’ Choir” by John Rutter and “Were you there on that Christmas night?” by Natalie Sleeth. The latter is much shorter but it’s still stuck in my head, but in a good way. I hope it’ll stay with me longer than most of my poor, fading or forgotten memories.

Tags:
church,
music,
choir,
John Rutter,
Natalie Sleeth

I just couldn’t help it, I have to preserve this snippet of a conversation I’m having:

[12:21] jayridge: u have bad attitude
[12:21] jayridge: where is ur xmas spirit
[12:21] Dossy: it's nailed to a cross.
[12:21] jayridge: lol

Scott Adams tries to end the free will debate through a reductionist argument using a finite state machine. In response, I ask:

Scott: Does complexity have a limit? Can infinite complexity be considered free will? If so, can you assert that we humans are not infinitely complex? Or, perhaps not at the microscopic level of humans, but rather that collective reality (“the universe” or whatever) is infinitely complex?

As the limit of complexity reaches infinity, it becomes indistinguishable from free will. Just as it’s fruitless to debate the existance of God, it’s equally fruitless to debate the existance of free will as it is both unknowable and unprovable.

The notion of the “infinite state machine” is nothing new. Kevin Kelly writes:

Few ideas are so preposterous that no one at all takes them seriously, and this idea – that God, or at least the universe, might be the ultimate large-scale computer – is actually less preposterous than most. The first scientist to consider it, minus the whimsy or irony, was Konrad Zuse, a little-known German who conceived of programmable digital computers 10 years before von Neumann and friends. In 1967, Zuse outlined his idea that the universe ran on a grid of cellular automata, or CA. Simultaneously, Ed Fredkin was considering the same idea. Self-educated, opinionated, and independently wealthy, Fredkin hung around early computer scientists exploring CAs. In the 1960s, he began to wonder if he could use computation as the basis for an understanding of physics.

In all this, I ask: Exactly what is “free will”? Exactly how is it useful to know whether we have “it” or not? In knowing it (especially if we lack it), how would it change our thoughts or our behaviors? (By definition, it wouldn’t.)

Tags:
Scott Adams,
free will,
complexity,
God,
infinite state machine,
computation

As an adult embracing Christian-oriented religion, I think it’s important to reconcile my feelings towards the Bible. I’m sure the more devout readers will see this as sacrilegious: lets not forget that whole “Do not judge, or you too will be judged” (Matthew 7:1), okay? Just read and listen, we both might learn something.

Oversimplifying, the Bible is a collection of stories written by and about people and events. Some folks claim it is the word of God. Others say it was inspired by God. What we should be able to agree on, though, is the oversimplification I just described. But, how trustworthy is the Bible? Let me clarify: how historically accurate is it? God didn’t proofread and correct it. We know that throughout history, there have been reformations of the Bible with Popes acting as editors. How do we know if the stories contained in the Bible aren’t fiction? Archaeology might prove the existance of people, places and things–but how much can forensics tell us about what happened before we found their remains?

My shelf contains a large library of DVDs, mostly fiction–straight out of Hollywood. There are some documentaries and other presumed non-fiction, but even those tell a story from a particular point of view. I would be ashamed of some future archaeologist finding my collection, some 2,000 years later, mislead into thinking that the movies contained on my DVDs accurately tell the story of life in the year 2006, with super-human tales of mystery and heroism, of scandalous treachery, of zany love stories and war. Sure, it might be reflective of the popular culture of the times, but it sure isn’t historically accurate. After all, they’re just stories, most of them fictional, meant to sedate and entertain the masses. But, 2,000 years ago, before the age of movies on DVDs, televisions and even electricity, even before mass-produced books, we had handwriting and oral storytelling.

Don’t get me wrong: the Bible is an awesome story. A super-being giving orders from a pyrotechnical bush, stories of slavery and freedom, of love and life lost, of a man who heals the ill and walks on water, of angry mobs killing the hero, of supernatural phenomena like life-after-death … this is the kind of stuff that blockbusters are made of! But, I can’t lose sight of the fact that it’s more entertainment than historical fact. It contains a lot of wisdom and we should certainly listen for it and learn it and live it, but to take it literally and as accurate just seems foolhardy to me.

Am I totally wrong, here? What am I missing? Share your thoughts with me in the comments below.

Tags:
religion,
Christianity,
bible

I’m actually borrowing the title of this blog entry from my referer logs. Someone searched for that term and clicked through to my blog as one of the results. I’d like to try and offer an actual answer from my viewpoint, since I’ve been going through a lot of life changes lately and have also been exploring and strenghtening my faith, so it’s definitely a question I’ve asked lately.

Why has God made me suffer all my life?

My understanding of the Bible is still very limited, but after God flooded the Earth, he promised Noah that he wouldn’t destroy the Earth again. Sometimes, the Bible gives God credit for causing suffering or at least alluding to God being responsible for it, but I don’t agree. Suffering happens because it’s a part of life. God doesn’t inflict suffering on the world. We cause most of our own suffering, either to ourselves or to each other. In the Bible, it even tells us that God forgives us of our sins and gives us grace, but we have to pay attention and realize it. Sometimes what we need is to stop the vicious cycle of suffering. Sometimes, it’s asking others for help, or offering help to others. But, whatever it is, if we listen carefully and with an open mind and heart, God gives us what we need. God doesn’t make us suffer; we make ourselves suffer..

Tags:
religion,
God,
suffering

For those who have been reading my blog for a while might remember me mentioning that we attended church a few years back. Fast forward through a few more holidays where we continued to attend church … then to more regular attendance of church … then to our kids attending Sunday school … and then now. By the time I sat down to write this, the day has past and I’ve finished cleaning up around the house, but yesterday (December 11th), my kids and I were baptized at The Evangelical Lutheran Church of Our Savior, nearby in Pompton Plains, NJ. For those that know me, this might come as a surprise: did Dossy really find religion? What was I thinking? Let me try to explain …

As I said, we’ve been attending church on a pretty regular basis, once every other week or so, for the last few months. I’ve been really enjoying the sermons delivered by Pastor Rossman, and often find crying over them. Strangely, it’s a good feeling; after so many years of bitter angst and cynicism, finding something that moves me enough to actually cry helps me reconnect with these important feelings I’ve suffocated for so long. We’ve discovered that some of the people we meet, say, at our daughter’s school, who we thought we’d like and would get along with, we find out later also attend the same church! It really attracts the kind of people we really like, and that’s a very good sign. The people we’ve met at church are fantastic people, all very loving, caring and supportive — exactly the kind of people we need to surround ourselves with, struggling to raise two very bright, challenging and spirited daughters. We are starting to build healthy and positive relationships with people who are good for us mentally and emotionally. Without sounding corny, Kelly, our babysitter, who introduced us to her church, is the best thing to ever happen to us in our lives (next to the birth of our two daughters, of course). She has touched our lives in a way that will stay with us forever and we will always be thankful for that.

But, what of all that atheistic cynicism I used to hold onto so dearly? Why give all that comfort up and look to God? Well, around the time we started contemplating getting the girls baptized — as well as myself, since I don’t believe I ever was — I came across Penn Jillette’s fantastic essay from NPR, titled This I Believe: There Is No God (which inspired the title for this blog entry). While Penn (of Penn & Teller fame) is a professional funny-man who I’ve enjoyed for many years, the essay feels nothing but absolutely serious. Apparently his essay has stirred a lot of controversy. Why is this all relevant? Well, just as I was getting cozy with the idea of being baptized and joining a church and all, along comes Penn’s essay which very strongly called out to my former self: the religion-disparaging, God-denying nihilist. What was I to do?

Clearly, I agreed with what Penn wrote, so did that mean I should forget about church and being baptized and all that? Was that a necessary conclusion to agreeing with the essay? At first, I thought it might, but after reading it over a few times, I realized that the essay was just a written form of his talent: the misdirection and slight-of-hand (or, word in this case) that fools you into perceiving what isn’t really there. The truth is, if you read his words and what they really mean, as opposed to what semantics people tend to apply to the words he chose to use, he isn’t rejecting God, just refusing to believe — or, merely have faith — that there is a God. Look in the dictionary at the definition of “believe” and then ask yourself if it really is healthy behavior to believe in God? To have faith, to depend on, to accept as true or real, to expect, to trust? I think there’s a word that describes people who believe something is real that doesn’t exist: crazy. Oh, sure, they’ll swear up and down that it’s real, it’s real to them, and others might even collaborate their delusions, but does that make it any more real, or just make them more insane? After all this, how can I believe in God?

Maybe I don’t, well, not the way you might believe in God, or the way others do. But, with certainty, I know I do believe in God. Maybe I don’t believe there is a God, or a singular figure that lives somewhere and is responsible for everything that’s happened or will happen or does happen. But, then, what do I believe? How can I consider myself sane but believe in something that doesn’t really exist in a way that can be proven to exist? Well, let me ask you: do you believe in the concept of “infinity?” Of course, you probably do. You probably learned about it in school, or someone else explained it to you, or you just figured it out all a priori because you’re so smart like that. But, has have you ever found an infinity? Or counted to it? Or measured something infinite? Of course not. You can’t, it doesn’t exist. But you believe in the concept, and you consider yourself sane, right? Why should believing in God be so different? It isn’t. It’s that simple.

So then, what does it mean to believe in God? It’s exactly what Penn’s essay says: we own our actions, our thoughts, our relationships, our mistakes, our failures, our successes, everything. Everything is a manifestation of God. At the deepest level, our individual conscience is God’s voice, speaking to us. In healthy people, it makes you feel bad when you do something wrong. It guides your thoughts, your actions, and your perception of the world around you. Clearly, the conscience doesn’t control people, because we see people doing unconscionable things every day; maybe that’s the influence of the Devil, or maybe just the refusal to listen to the spirit of God’s influence, or maybe it’s just people choosing to be jerks — I don’t know. What I know is, God wants us to be loved, to feel loved and to share love with others — and listening to God, our conscience, will bring us closer to that. As Penn says, it’s the reason to “be more thoughtful” and “treat people right the first time around”. It’s why we should listen to each other, learn from each other and share ourselves with each other. It’s why we should do things to lessen other people’s suffering and not like it’s just some unjust cosmic punishment. It’s why we shouldn’t just believe there’s a God, but to prove it by listening to our conscience and living life in a way that we can be proud of. Only believing there is a God is not enough. Actions speak louder than words, for sure.

And so, yesterday, I was baptized along with my two daughters. I was welcomed into a new family, one of God, of our church and its people. In a sense, I am truly re-born, a child of God, learning for the first time that the life I knew will be different from the life I will get to know. I want to know God’s love — the love of everything — and to learn to enjoy this wonderful life I’ve been given, rather than just getting by, passing time until it’s over. Just like Penn, I want to “make this life the best life I will ever have.” He’s so very right. He’s a smart guy.