Orange Theology

Temptation and Playing the Odds

2007-05-29T21:55:00.000-04:00

Only 52 of Pennsylvania’s approximate 124,000 gambling “addicts” have signed up for a program that makes it illegal for them to gamble within the state. And why would these obsessive gamblers want to voluntarily restrict themselves from being able to engage in the recreational activity they love so dearly? To rid themselves of any incentive to gamble, and therefore to free themselves of an otherwise overwhelming temptation. You see, once you’re enrolled in the program, you’ve legally forfeited your right to any winnings.

The instructor for my summer class on free will brought this story to our attention today. Weakness of the will – or, doing what we know and even firmly believe we shouldn’t – is one of the most fundamental issues for exploration when it comes to the philosophical notion of autonomy. This particular news item, however, reminded me of questions that have struck me in the past, questions regarding what is the most “righteous” way to approach (or not approach) those actions and behaviors we consider to be morally wrong. If you’re uncomfortable with the religious overtones of such language, then consider the more neutral question of what is the most appropriate or correct way to approach (or not approach) those actions and behaviors we consider to be socially or even personally abhorrent.

Let me give an example to illustrate, an example that will hopefully ring true to many of us. Suppose you are driving on a highway where the speed limit is 65 mph. Suppose most people are driving somewhere between 70-75 mph, yourself included. Next, imagine that someone zooms past you at approximately 80 miles per hour. Suppose you think to yourself, “What a jerk! That person is clearly a selfish scumbag!” Maybe your character is such that the particular words you choose would be much gentler or harsher than this, but regardless, imagine that you consider the person going 80 mph to somehow be “in the wrong.”

Now, suppose you consider 79 mph to be an acceptable speed to drive under these current conditions. That is, you do not think someone driving 79 mph is to be regarded as socially or morally deviant. 80 mph, on the other hand, is crossing the line. If that is how you feel, then it makes sense to go 79 mph yourself. But would it be all the more praiseworthy to go only 75 mph? 70 mph? How about actually keeping the speed limit and going only 65 mph? Assuming you do not believe that actually abiding by the speed limit will cause any traffic problems (remember, this is just imaginary!), would it be morally better to go 65 mph? Or is anywhere between 65 and 79 mph equally good, given that you do not believe 79 mph is “bad” in the first place?

The point – it does not seem we often view morality on a scale. That is, while we may view certain acts as worse than certain other acts, we generally consider most individual actions to be either right or wrong, either good or bad, either acceptable or unacceptable. As far as these labels go, it is not intuitive that two actions that are both acceptable – wholly acceptable, mind you – can differ in the degree to which they are acceptable. If there is nothing unacceptable about action X or Y, then X cannot be more acceptable than Y. Perhaps X can be more preferred, or easier to achieve, or otherwise be given the upper hand if one must choose between X and Y. But X cannot be more morally acceptable than Y if both X and Y are entirely morally acceptable.

But is this analysis correct? Would it be better to drive, say, 70 mph if you (a) believed driving 70 mph was morally permissible, and (b) although you believed driving 79 mph is also morally permissible, you recognized that it is closer to being morally impermissible? Would it matter? Could it matter? Would it matter if you thought driving 79 mph was morally permissible but would also tempt you to drive 80 mph?

You may be wondering what this has to do with the compulsive gamblers. When my instructor brought up this news story, I asked (somewhat rhetorically) whether or not legally banning themselves from a gambling hall should be regarded as a sign of weakness on the part of these gamblers or as a sign of their strength. On the one hand, it seems that it is a sign of weakness. In effect, these gamblers are saying, “I am so out of control that if I do not take these drastic measures, I will keep gambling. I cannot do it on sheer willpower alone.” On the other hand, these gamblers are recognizing their weakness and taking steps to overcome it. They are, in a manner of speaking, driving 65 mph to avoid going 80. And can that possibly be bad??? Or is it merely courageous?

I used to think that the weaker you were about resisting temptations, the further away from those temptations you should stay. That may be good advice – but it may also be true that this is what the strongest people should and would do. It might actually be a strength to humble oneself enough to drive only 65 mph when there is no obligatory reason for doing so. To drive 65 mph when you know driving 79 mph will tempt you to go 80 may be a greater exercise of your strength (and faith?) than being able to drive 79 mph without crossing the line into the 80s. After all, perhaps driving 79 mph is just a way to sacrifice as little as possible, a way to approximate defiance as much as it is morally possible to do so. Should that be commended?

Some other interesting thoughts came up during our brief discussion of these gamblers, but I will save those for another post. Keep watching and you’ll see it soon. In the meantime, check out these two different takes on the Pennsylvania self-imposed gambling ban. The first is from the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, though it is simply the Associated Press story that most newspapers covering the story ran verbatim. The second link is the official release given by the Pennsylvania Gaming Control Board. According to the former, “few” people are signing up for the self-imposed ban. According to the latter, “many” people are signing up. Both acknowledge that the number of volunteers falls in the 50s, in which case I find the different spins to be somewhat amusing.

Associated Press news story via Post-Gazzette.com

Pennsylvania Gaming Control Board May 21, 2007 Official Release

Proud to be Polite

2006-05-13T17:43:00.000-04:00

Harriet: “Where would you like to eat?”
Polly: “Wherever you want.”
Harriet: “Wendy’s?”
Polly: “Sure, sounds good!”

And off they go, Harriet excited about the place at which they’ve chosen to eat, and Polly not nearly so thrilled. From the conversation alone, it seems that both parties are happy with dining at Wendy’s, but Polly has kept her true feelings hidden. Polly was hoping for anything other than a fast-food burger/sandwich joint, but, to avoid disappointing her friend, she has readily agreed to eat at just such a place. Polly would probably argue that her actions are a result of politeness. Oh sure, perhaps she’s too polite. Perhaps she lets people walk all over her sometimes, but it’s all because she’s sooo nice. Nice to a fault, as some might say…

But what might others say? That Polly is a liar? The case could certainly be made, but would it merely prove a desecration of her altruism? Or is Polly really acting selflessly to begin with? Could it be that Polly’s “politeness” is selfishness in disguise? Could it be that Polly’s willingness to eat at Wendy’s is a sign of pride?

I struggle with being honest when it comes to making decisions that influence other people. I don’t want to let people down, and I genuinely believe that Polly could have a similar motive. But, when we “lie” in order to appease others, is our concern merely how that person will feel? Or are we trying to avoid feeling awkward ourselves? Are we seeking to give to the other person, or to prevent that person feeling less-than-pleased with us? I think that, in these situations, we are very often motivated by our own insecurities, rather than by the generosity or love we may feel for the other person. After all, don’t we already feel somewhat uncomfortable in those situations? And aren’t we trying desperately to limit the extent of that feeling when we seek to keep the other person happily oblivious? We employ dishonesty in order to preserve our friend’s momentary perspective of us as a good natured and jolly person to be around. But doesn’t that sound a bit like pride?

One might say that Polly prefers eating at Wendy’s to denying her friend the opportunity to do so. In that case, so the argument would go, Polly is making a genuine choice that correlates with her situational preferences. Thus, she is being honest. But this only holds if Polly sincerely feels there are only two options available to her—eating at Wendy’s or denying her friend’s happiness. But nobody can rationally assume this, and the same goes for all of the trivial, day-to-day examples that I wish to call into question. Sure, there’s a time for self-sacrifice, but to claim that an instance of choosing where to eat (or what movie to see, etc., etc.) is such a time is ludicrous. And so it seems we pushovers have to admit, sometimes we’re just too prideful to stick up for ourselves.

For Prayin' Out Loud

2006-01-24T20:40:00.000-05:00

Some religions require their adherents to worship in a set manner—at certain times of day, in a certain fashion, even certain words. Likewise, some religions (Islam, for example) may require that certain prayers be given verbally—that is, the prayer must be said aloud. For many of us, day-to-day life is not filled with such prayers. One may pray often, and one may do so in a variety of fashions—kneeling at the bedside, closing the eyes, etc.—but I suspect many of these prayers are offered in silence.

I don’t know the reasons behind it, but I have taken a liking to saying prayers “out loud,” even when I am not praying as part of a group. Ironically, I find this sometimes helps me to pour my heart out more fully. This seems counterintuitive, but I have had such feelings on not just a few occasions. It seems there is something to this.

I am curious if anyone else has experienced something similar. Or, does anyone have any proposed insight as to why this may be the case? I would never give up my silent prayers, for I feel there is a certain quality to them that I sometimes desire in particular. But verbal prayers have taken a special place in my heart. Any thoughts?

P.S. to Amen

2005-12-15T17:17:00.000-05:00

Reflecting on things since my last post, I’ve had an interesting thought strike me on more than one occasion. Perhaps the person who offers a prayer says “amen” for the same reason everyone else does—to express agreement. This would make sense if prayers are meant to be guided by the Holy Spirit, which would guarantee an accordance with God’s will. Thus, it would make sense to say “amen,” even for the one saying the prayer—not because we’re agreeing with ourselves (which would make the “amen” redundant), but because we concur with the inspired direction from God. What do you think?

Can I Get An Amen?

2005-11-09T16:51:00.000-05:00

As a child, I remember asking why we say “amen” at the close of our prayers. My parents told me that it was a way of expressing agreement. If my sister offered a prayer and I agreed with what she said, I should say “amen.” Being quite young, I went through a period of time when my clever mind would mischievously tempt me to withhold my amens. Armed with a completely legitimate excuse for breaking tradition, I felt an enormous sense of power for someone my age. “But you see, Mom and Dad, I don’t agree.” And what could my parents possibly say to that?

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve naturally grown out of such infantile temptations. Then again, I’ve also realized that the rote repetition of saying “amen” has virtually stripped the word of any real meaning. I’ve heard people say “amen” to prayers offered in foreign languages (without being bilingual). I’ve heard people say “amen” to the unintelligible prayers of those with serious physical and mental handicaps. And, unless I’m the only one who’s ever done it, I’ve heard people say “amen” to prayers that were simply too quiet to be understood. In short, a lot of people say “amen” no matter what.

I used to defend this behavior by telling myself an amen could, at least in some instances, merely seek to sustain the sincerity of the one praying. Sure, that old man may have prayed too softly for me to hear what he was saying, but as long as he gave his best effort, I might as well say amen. But is this right? Should we frivolously and carelessly offer amens, regardless of whether or not we understand the words prayed? If not, how much epistemic responsibility do we have before we are justified?

Undoubtedly, no one would say amen if a prayer seemed completely blasphemous, blatantly deranged, or otherwise severely misguided. But is this the only reason we should abstain? Is it right to say amen without really understanding the intent and purpose of the prayer? To say amen as polite social protocol? Further, do we need to agree with the prayer in its entirety before we say amen, or can the amen be internally selective in what it’s condoning?

By the way, I never understood the reason the person actually praying had to say amen. For all I ever knew, it was merely a coordinative technique used to demarcate the end of one’s prayer. And to be honest, I still don’t have any better ideas. All I know is that it would feel really weird to end a prayer without it, even when praying alone. After 25 years or so of praying, I guess that only makes sense.

Look, I'm a Theologian

2005-09-02T16:00:00.000-04:00

When I started Orange Theology, I did not intend for lengthy essays on core doctrinal concepts to be my only posts. Instead, I wanted this to be a place for any and all reflections of a spiritual matter. As such, I now present something a bit more lighthearted. I recently took an online quiz titled “What Theologian Are You?” With a very limited exposure to historical theology, I personally cannot make much of the results. In fact, I haven’t even heard of two or three names on the list. Add to that my difficulty in interpreting several of the questions, and I am far from assessing this quiz’s validity. Is it pretty accurate? I couldn’t tell you. The fact that my strongest theological alliance was only at 67% may suggest that I misunderstood much. But oh well. Here are the results. Feel free to play along.

You scored as Anselm. Anselm is the outstanding theologian of the medieval period.He sees man's primary problem as having failed to render unto God what we owe him, so God becomes man in Christ and gives God what he is due. You should read 'Cur Deus Homo?'

Anselm

67%

J�rgen Moltmann

67%

Karl Barth

60%

Martin Luther

53%

Augustine

53%

Charles Finney

47%

John Calvin

47%

Friedrich Schleiermacher

47%

Paul Tillich

27%

Jonathan Edwards

Which theologian are you?
created with QuizFarm.com

What is Worship?

2005-08-24T18:02:00.000-04:00

As a child, I believed the term “worship” was synonymous with “prayer.” When people worshipped false idols, it meant they prayed to them. I saw myself as worshipping God, because it was to Him that I offered my prayers. Worship was just a fancier term for prayer.

Now that I’m older, I realize there is a difference. But what is it? As one of its definitions, the American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language equates worship with “the reverent love and devotion accorded a deity, an idol, or a sacred object.” As a verb, worship is “the ceremonies, prayers, or other religious forms by which this love is expressed.”

If we accept this definition, we admit that something other than God—the true God—can be worshipped. This makes sense, of course. If we claimed that only deity can be worshipped, Jews and Christians would be forced to dismiss any Biblical accounts of worshipping false gods (either that or seriously reinterpret them), while the atheist would have to suppose that nobody in history has actually worshipped. “Worship,” for the atheist, would become a void term.

But if we allow things other than God to be worshipped, will this affect our concept of worship? If a man possesses a “reverent love and devotion” for his wife, and if he views marriage as a sacred institution, does he worship his wife? This seems to fit the definition given above (unless we get picky and say that a wife is not a “sacred object,” in which case we can just as easily accuse the man of worshipping the institution of marriage itself). It seems our definition needs some tweaking.

By inserting a subjective requirement into the definition, we may find our solution. Perhaps worship is “the reverent love and devotion accorded to someone (or something) that is considered deity.” This definition makes no claims about whether or not a worshipped being actually exists. One isn’t forced to believe in the gods of Greek mythology to believe that people did in fact worship Zeus. Thus, our definition allows both religious and non-religious persons to recognize the existence of worship, even when such worship is seen as being “false” in some way or another. At the same time, our happily married man cannot be accused of worshipping his wife, because he does not consider her to be deity.

The problem is, something still seems to be lacking. Is it accurate to say that the pious Muslim, who feels “reverent love and devotion” to Allah, is constantly in the state of worship? Or is he only worshipping Allah when he is consciously aware of this love and devotion? Perhaps it isn’t a problem. Perhaps we are comfortable saying the religious devotee is always in the state of worshipping his/her god, just as we are comfortable saying the devoted husband always “loves” his wife, even when he isn’t reflecting on it. But there seem to be theological consequences in taking such a stand. When a religious devotee engages in something he/she views as sin, is this person still engaged in worship? It seems counterintuitive to suggest that he/she is. For even if a “reverent love and devotion” for God exists within that person, the fact that it remains so hidden suggests that worship cannot be taking place. Certainly devotion cannot be consciously recognized while sinning occurs, even if in some twisted way love can.

This means that worship, at the very least, must be “the conscious recognition of reverent love and devotion accorded to someone (or something) that is considered deity.” So is this our definition? When a Christian claims to worship God through song, is this merely because the song brings them to an awareness of God-focused love? Does the woman who, while taking her morning jog, recalls her love for Jesus thereby automatically engage in worship? Is one able to worship without seeking a spiritual communion with deity? Without praying or otherwise “speaking” to God? Our current definition does not imply a reaching out to God, but merely a recognition of our attitude towards Him. It is not even a recognition of God directly, but a recognition of how we feel about God. Are we content with such a definition?

I have not tried to provide a final answer. I do not feel I have one. In my own experience, I feel that worship does require a spiritual communion of sorts. Perhaps our definition is not that far off. Perhaps the final adjustment I would make is to require that the love and devotion felt is being expressed and not just recognized. Hence, an elaborate definition may be: “the conscious attempt to express and/or communicate a reverent love and devotion, accorded to someone (or something) that is considered deity, to that someone (or something).” This makes worship a rather personal affair that can take on many forms. This appeals to me, as I believe musicians, poets, seamstresses, and anyone else can worship God by offering their talents. On the other hand, an instance of someone merely remembering that he/she loves God does not constitute worship. I feel good about this definition, but it’s always open for revisal. So let the comments begin.

What is Forgiveness?

2005-07-29T18:01:00.000-04:00

Forgiveness is a (if not the) central theme in Christianity. The Atonement is a miraculous gift whereby God forgives all who are willing to receive it. Christians know the consequence of such graciousness, namely that he/she may abide in the presence of God for eternity. But we have also been commanded to forgive, being told that “if ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you: But if ye forgive not men their tresspasses, neither will your Father forgive your tresspasses” (Matt. 6:14-15; see also Matt. 18:23-35, Luke 6:37, Eph. 4:32, Col. 3:12-13).

What, then, does it mean for us to forgive one another? And what does it mean when we are unwilling to forgive? Many times we find it difficult to forgive someone of something we find particularly grievous. Murder, rape, kidnapping, molestation, and other highly barbaric acts may seem outright unforgivable. Even if we can forgive someone of the atrocities inflicted upon us directly, we often cannot bear to forgive someone of the pain they have brought upon our loved ones. Part of the problem may be a misconception that, by forgiving someone, we are retroactively permitting certain behavior. A parent may hesitate to forgive the man responsible for her child’s death, believing it would otherwise sanction his choice to climb behind the wheel while highly intoxicated. A woman may be unable to forgive her grandfather for years of molestation, believing such kindness would dishonestly suggest an absence of psychological and emotional repercussions and thereby promote his choices as inconsequential.

It seems a natural human impulse to demand justice. If someone has victimized us or someone we love, it seems only right that that person have a full realization of the pain he/she has caused. Excruciating guilt may be the only sufficient form of repayment, but this is often neither expected nor possible. As such, we demand the next best thing. We demand life imprisonment. We demand execution. Our hearts may even desire the same acts to be performed upon the predator, thereby bringing him/her to the most intimate understanding possible of the pain that he/she has caused.

But what is God’s plan for us? Through the Atonement, God has provided a way that our eternal well-being might not be impeded by human folly. In other words, our eternal happiness need not be encumbered by the poor choices we make, however disastrous and upsetting these actions may be. It does not seem to me that forgiveness, in the sense employed by God, has any bearing on the approval or disapproval of previous actions. In fact, it may not have anything to do with the sins directly, but rather how God approaches us as sinful beings. And how does He approach us? With love, with hope, and with a willingness to share all that He has, that we might have eternal joy and rest.

Does this help us on our path to forgiving one another? I think it can. Rather than focusing on the bad behavior of those we need to forgive, we can focus on our hope for them. We can sincerely hope and pray in our hearts that their imperfections will be done away with, and that they too can become someone glorious and loving, as we ourselves hope to become. It may be difficult to imagine feeling this way for a rapist, but this is because we envision the rapist instead of the end product. God’s plan is all about the end product—not letting the past destroy our eternal happiness. If we are willing to submit to God, our potential is perfect. He can make us spotless, and anyone who has been made spotless is a beautiful person. Looking at a spotless person, we would never wish to see him/her again become soiled. We would not wish to see God’s love removed from that person, or to see his/her sincere happiness stripped away because of past actions that no longer have any bearing on his/her character. I believe we can love our neighbors enough to desire this for them, regardless of their mistakes. I believe we can always prefer a spotless soul rejoicing in the presence of God to an eternally suffering and sad being. If you really prefer this, you will hope that your enemies will change. You will hope that they will be made new in Christ. You will hope that their potentials will not be eternally lost. You will act accordingly. This is forgiveness.

To desire someone’s eternal suffering is outright wicked. It stands in direct opposition to the love of Jesus Christ, and it is no wonder that we cannot receive Christ in our hearts while withholding forgiveness from others. To attempt to do so is hypocritical. If we desire someone’s eternal suffering, we are literally opposing God’s plan for His children and desiring that His plan will be thwarted, at least partially. “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved” (John 3:16-17).

Love the Sinner, Hate the Sin, Improve the Sinning?

2005-06-03T14:28:00.000-04:00

Often enough, it seems that, to some degree or another, we must be tolerant of evil (whatever you take this to mean). Not that we intentionally seek evil, but we certainly acknowledge its presence and, perhaps more often than we’d like to think, shrug it off as the unavoidable consequence of being human. For example, we talk about “the lesser of two evils,” of “necessary evils,” and so on, thereby pardoning the imperfect conditions with which we are content to live.

Granted, it is a fact of life that evil does and will continue to exist. Given that this is the case, what is our ethical responsibility in accommodating these evils? Do we merely “hate the sin and love the sinner,” leaving them to their own destruction? Or do we strive to better facilitate the practices we are not in agreement with—but which inevitably exist—in an attempt to ameliorate the negative repercussions of these actions?

Much political debate has been sparked by those who choose the latter route. Given that teenagers will undoubtedly have sex, let’s provide them condoms. Given that homosexuality will undoubtedly continue to exist, let us not discriminate between homosexual and heterosexual unions. Given that women will undoubtedly have abortions, let us make it legal and thereby ensure the procedure is a safe one. Given that prostitution undoubtedly will not go away, let us make it legal, imposing strict governmental regulations and guidelines that will prevent the spread of disease and violence that often permeates such vocations. Similar examples exist regarding marijuana usage and so on.

So is this the answer? Is this justified? This is not meant to fuel discussion on any of the issues I have used as an example, but on the overarching theme of this post: how far should we go in accommodating the practices we would otherwise discourage, provided it will alleviate some of their negative consequences? Please note, I am not making an ethical claim about any of these issues. It is well-known that these issues are often viewed within an ethical framework. Please keep discussions on the topic at hand. Thank you.

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Added June 6, 2005:

I have been told by at least one person that the overall point of this post was not entirely clear. Therefore, I am adding this appendage in an effort to clarify. To begin with, I wish to reiterate that, while I cite many issues that are commonly viewed as issues of morality, I am not making a case for or against any of them. Granted, this post mentions both “evil” and homosexuality, just as it mentions both “sin” and abortion. I am not, however, trying to parallel these terms. However, it is a well-known fact that many people do link these terms, and that is central to the theme of my post.

And what is the theme again? It is this: supposing that you consider an action to be wrong—whether it is one that I have listed or not—how far should you go in accommodating it, provided this accommodation will reduce the negative impacts of the action?

Naturally, you can utilize any example you wish if it helps you make your point. Just as the point you are making may vary (e.g. you may argue that we should always accommodate something we don’t like if it lessens the harm done, or you may argue that we should never, to any degree, accommodate something we feel morally opposed to), so may the examples. You may use something I have brought up, or you may use something else. Plenty of examples exist. Gun control, euthanasia, gambling, etc. But it needn’t be something of vast political concern. How much leeway should you give your child to do something you feel opposed to, given that he/she may engage in worse activities otherwise? Should you demand a certain code of conduct and consider it his/her choice to suffer the consequences of living otherwise? Or do you compromise—morally—in the hopes of improving the situation?

What is Repentance?

2005-04-27T20:32:00.000-04:00

Is repentance anything other than regret? Are we capable of regretting past actions in-and-of-themselves, or can we only regret them as a response to their consequences? Is one truly sorry for something if he/she only regrets the consequences? Is it wrong to regret actions only because of their consequences?

Please discuss any and all of the above questions. Even if you feel regret and repentance have no relationship to one another, I would like to hear your thoughts on both. Also, remember that by "consequences," I don't mean, "getting caught." If a person has an affair, they may simply regret the consequence of feeling guilty and nothing else. Still, a sense of guilt seems inherent in repentance, and thus the reason for my questions.

Should We Always "Vote Our Conscience"?

2005-04-15T02:05:00.001-04:00

On the previous post ("Sin and the Mind vs. the Heart"), a reader comment prompted me to ask the following question:

Should we always vote to put our own moral standards into law?

While the issue being discussed was that of homosexual marriages, the question is a valid one regardless of the topic. Here's a bit more of what I said:

Should we always vote to put our own moral standards into law? This does not seem a bad idea, per se, but where do we draw the line? Should I make it illegal for my neighbor to have a different set of standards than me? Or, to be more precise, to legally be able to act on his standards?

In a democracy, it seems the majority should be able to uphold whatever legal definitions they choose. But is this notion dangerously vague? What if the majority wanted to outlaw premarital kissing? Many would find such a law to be ridiculous, but I'll bet more than a few would also consider it a breakdown in the legal system itself. But, if that's our gut reaction, we are forced to ask ourselves: why the difference?

I now turn this question to all of my readers. When should we vote to make our moral standards into law? Always? Never? Do we push for these laws to be made, or do we wait for matters to reach a certain level of social relevance before we make a political stand? Why and when should we refrain from passing laws that are based upon moral standards? Does it really depend on the particular issue at hand? What makes the difference?

Obviously, we should always vote with some sort of moral conscience. Whatever moral principles we have should be adhered to while we vote. But that's not the same as voting to put those principles into law. So, when is it okay for morality to stop driving the agenda and become the agenda itself?

Sin and the Mind vs. the Heart

2005-04-01T22:51:00.000-05:00

Ideally, our hearts and minds will be aligned with God’s. Though we are all imperfect, we hope to ever increase in our understanding of God’s will and thereby employ it in our lives. As imperfect beings, our hearts are all-too-often set upon sin. But what about the times when the heart and the mind conflict, not about doing the right thing, but about what the right thing to do is? At first it may seem difficult to imagine such a schism taking place. In what instance would I think to myself, “this is morally wrong,” yet feel it is morally right, or vice versa? It seems the presence of one would automatically rule out the other. But is this always the case?

Let us borrow a well-known quandary from ethical theory: if lying is wrong, should you ever lie to protect someone? In one sense, the question is whether or not the end justifies the means. One must examine two immoral courses of action—either hurting someone or lying—and choose between them. We hope to choose the lesser of two evils, realizing that the option for true moral integrity is abolished. But I do not wish to speak to such concerns. Rather, let us imagine the person who feels strongly that lying to protect someone—not just lying, and not just protecting someone, but the single act that satisfies both provisos—is her moral responsibility, while also thinking that, contrary to her feelings, God probably does condemn all instances of lying. What is this person to do?

The easy claim may be that the person should stick to her mind, since this most closely resembles submission to God. After all, it may be argued, the person believes her mind to bear God’s will, and her heart therefore contradicts God. To follow her heart would be a willful betrayal of God. But what if the woman thinks as follows: “I believe lying is wrong. I believe that lying, even to protect someone, still constitutes a lie. But with all my heart, I feel it would be wrong not to lie to protect someone. My reason tells me that the immorality of lying lies not in the outcome but in the act, therefore I cannot logically understand how lying to protect someone is permissible. Nevertheless, I feel it would be wrong not to do so.”

Is it any less damnable to do something that our heart tells us is wrong, than to do something that our mind can only understand as being wrong? Looking at it from this perspective, it almost seems worse to ignore the heart. The mind never knows all of the details, all of the circumstances, nor all of the consequences that an action may produce. Therefore, to willingly do something that we feel is wrong seems more reprehensible. This is not to say that one should submit to every whim and fancy, but perhaps we, like God, should be quick to look upon the heart. It may not guarantee perfection, but it might just bring peace.

“And I thank Jesus Christ our Lord, who hath enabled me, for that he counted me faithful, putting me into the ministry; who was before a blasphemer, and a persecutor, and injurious: but I obtained mercy, because I did it ignorantly in unbelief” (1 Tim. 1:13).

Other verses to ponder:

Prov. 21:2
Prov. 23:7
Isa. 51:7
Luke 16:15
Heb. 4:12
1 Jn. 3:20-21
Rev. 2:23

Online Bibles:

BibleGateway.com
Blue Letter Bible
Parallel Bible @ StudyLight.org

Do Different Religions Worship the Same God?

2005-03-25T18:15:00.000-05:00

Do people of different religions worship the same God? It is a question many view with severe ramifications, and there are many ways that one can nitpick the question before even attempting an answer. What does it mean to “worship”? How broad is our definition of religion? If we say that two distinct religions do in fact worship the same God, does this mean that God holds both religions as equally valid and/or correct, or that God responds to and/or hears the prayers of one group more often than the other? For Christians, it is a question that likely hinges on the religious adherent’s recognition (or lack thereof) of the Trinity. For Muslims, it is a question of whether or not the Baptist living next door in fact worships Allah, though clearly misguided in his/her understanding of Him. Taken to a further extreme, one may ask if God ever answered the prayer of the sincere Greek who, as he was heading into battle, petitioned the protection of Athena.

Those who do not accept transreligious worship of God often state as their cause a fundamental difference in conceptions of deity. Granted, even if I restrict myself to the broad label of a theist (not atheist) within the Judeo-Christian tradition, I would have difficulty recognizing someone else’s God as my own (though differently understood), without some similarities. Obviously, it is unlikely that someone will worship a being they feel holds no sway over their life or the universe. If this anomaly were to occur, I would probably be interested more in the person’s understanding of (and reason for) worship than in whether or not our God was one and the same being. I also admit that viewing God as the ultimate creator is of significant importance to me. But again, I may be more interested in the theological aspects of believing in a god who did not create the universe but nevertheless has power over it. Could I acknowledge the believer of this faith to be worshipping the same God as I? Without knowing more about it, I simply couldn’t say.

The simple fact is, I do not much expect two people of the same faith to have identical conceptions of God. Therefore, it seems ridiculous to assume that someone of a different faith does not worship God. Not only is the human conception of God greatly limited, and therefore incomplete, but there are surely details, however slight, that we all outright misunderstand. If the Jew or the Muslim or the Catholic or the Christian Scientist is literally unable to worship God because he/she is misguided in one aspect or another regarding His nature, I would like to know who on earth can worship God? I, for one, believe that God is more gracious than that. I pray that He is.

For more perspectives on this topic, check out the following:

Newhouse News Service, "Do All Religious Paths Lead to the Same God? Bush Remark Renews Old Debate"

Todd Wilken's article, "Do Jews and Christians Worship the Same God?"

Rev. Ricky Hoyt's sermon, "The Same God"

George Strickland's article at OrthodoxyToday.org, "Do Christians and Muslims Worship the Same God?"

Welcome to Orange Theology!

2005-03-25T18:02:00.000-05:00

WHAT THIS SITE IS: Various reflections on religion and spirituality, from theology to religious philosophy to ethics. Other subjects (current events, sociology, etc.) may occassionally be examined in light of religious/spiritual thought. Links to pertinent and thought-provoking websites and articles may also be included. The site is designed to promote religious thought and self-reflection and examination. Reader participation and discussion is a great tool for encouraging such insight. Please keep in mind, however, what this site is not. Comments deemed inappropriate for this site will be removed.

WHAT THIS SITE IS NOT: An apologetics and/or conversion-oriented site. That is to say, the goal of this site is not to argue for or defend the beliefs of one particular religion or religious group, nor is it to attack, criticize, or otherwise debunk any religious and/or spiritual orientation. Certainly, as in any open-minded discussion, the views expressed here, both by the author and the comments of the readers, will be rooted in the beliefs held by those speaking. However, the overall goal should be to promote and to share personal reflections concerning the subjects at hand. Disagreements and differences of beliefs and opinions should be presented articulately, with sincerity, maturity, and respect. Questions should not be aimed at discrediting a certain belief, but at better understanding it.

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