Killing the Buddha

There is a famous parable in Buddhism that goes something like this:

A monk approached the Buddhist master Lin Chi. The monk was excited, in ecstasy. He tells the master that he has seen Buddha. He was walking down the road when suddenly, he was enlightened! He has seen the whole of enlightenment, known Nirvana, understands the Buddhamind. Finally the monk quiets and waits to see what the master will say of his revelations.

Lin Chi reaches out and smacks him. "You meet the Buddha on the road," he says, "Kill him".

It's happened to all of us, or to people that we know. We're marching along, going to work, doing the laundry, living our lives, when suddenly, it all seems to make sense. You were just doing your thing, not really seeking for religion, not really thinking about social justice, but then something impresses you so clearly and forcefully that there's nothing for it but to admit that God is great. Or evolution is wrong. Or Allah is wonderful.

Lin Chi says, fabulous. You've found it, and now you can kill it. The Buddha you stumble over like a rock in your path isn't the true Buddha, but an expression of your longing. If this Buddha is not killed, he will stand in your way.

When Lin Chi contributed the idea of deicide to his godless religion over a thousand years ago, he wasn't talking about killing a long-dead teacher who had come to be known as the Buddha, but instead about the ideologies of his day: the One True Path, One True Story, One True Anything. He was talking about the preachers and the gurus, the Family Research Counsel, and the mass media. Faced with an obscenity-screaming abortion protester or a convert who thumps Kabballah aphorisms as hard as any Bible, Lin Chi would say the same thing: Don't be a chump. A single story never explained anything.

What does a Buddhist master have to do with modern society? Well, in the case of Christian theology, all too often Christians today sell their faith in small chunks. A recent Christian publication informed me that all I needed to do to be saved was to 'accept that Jesus Christ died for my sins'. "It's that easy!", the magazine trumpeted. No mention of God, no mention of theology, no doctrine and no morality involved. It's Powerpoint Christianity, God for the fast-food generation.

The same phenomenon happens in political debates. Complex questions of science are reduced to three word memes so that reporters don't have to think too hard when producing headlines. It took me three years of biology education and an entire semester of a focused seminar at a university, conversing with the best minds in the world, to understand enough about cellular function to make judgements about whether stem cells might be helpful in medicine, but pundits pass judgement in thirty-second clips for the news. And it's pundits that define the debate.

The problem with the loss of doctrinal richness is that the more God or an issue of public debate gets boiled into soundbytes, the more people lose sight of what they're actually talking about. When people make judgements based on pundit clips, fields of science get closed down that might have saved lives, but there is no moral responsibility felt by those who pass the laws. And when people lose sight of what God really is, in all His complexity, people start to make and defend wrong choices using statements that sound religious, but aren't. Soundbyte theology is how Bush and company led many to think that Bush represented a Christian outlook on government, when his policies were anything but. Soundbyte science is what allows the debates about abortion or evolution to continue in public, when the people who've devoted their lives to studying the issue aren't debating any longer, because they've reached a conclusion. It's hard to parse the inaccuracies of someone's claims about religion or social issues when you don't know the details of what you yourself think.

In the church, it's not just a problem of pastors preaching repetitive and doctrinally-shallow sermons. It's a problem of conversion methods as well. The large evangelistic religions often rely on a major religious experience for a great deal of their converts. Youth groups on retreat weekends, adults attending special revival services: these emotionally-drenched conversion conventions produce a huge number of new Christians every year. The problem is that all of these people are meeting Buddha on the road. They will be energized by their new faith, but if you asked them what exactly they had faith in, they couldn't give a detailed answer. But instead of urging these followers to kill that Buddha and instead grow slowly towards deeper knowledge, the church rewards these people. If they continue to attend church at all (many don't), they'll hear soundbyte sermons designed to make God understandable in less than an hour a week. You couldn't understand the behavior of the stock market in that length of time, much less a deity.

The truth is that God should be complex, and that faith shouldn't be easily digestible. Science can't be reduced to easy conclusions, and graphs are also the easiest way to misrepresent data. Refusal to confront the difficult theological questions doesn't make for less conflict in a church, it makes for shallower Christians. Debate by soundbyte doesn't make for a better-informed public, it makes for a bunch of ill-informed ideologues. Modern society doesn't care about the details of what we believe in, though. You can't fit ideas that big onto a Powerpoint slide.

Gaming America: the philosophy and math behind choices we make

It's been said before, and it'll be said again, but the USA is a remarkably paternalistic nation. We have this idea, right now, that instead of doing what the Iraqis want us to do (leave), we must instead do the thing which is best for them, even in circumstances where no one knows what that thing may be. I started thinking about this yesterday while reading a philosophy paper on game theory, and it occurred to me that what America is facing right now is an optimization problem. Optimization problems in game and decision theory literature are most often solved with equations that weigh participants' beliefs against foreseen possible outcomes. This is an elegant way of addressing such problems, and it has produced a number of fascinating insights into human behavior in game situations, but it has an acknowledged fault: one cannot calculate the potential utility of an outcome that is vague or indeterminate. And that is the dilemma that America presently faces. We are trying to weigh the incalculable utility of a vague outcome (what might happen if we withdraw troops from Iraq) against the calculable utility of a known outcome (what happens if we leave troops in Iraq).

Why would I call the outcome of withdrawal vague? Well, it might help first to talk about what an un-vague, or defined, utility value would be. A defined utility is a utility that can be assigned numerical value, or assigned to a range of numerical values. An example is in order. Suppose I have an envelope in one hand that contains $10, and an identical envelope in the other that contains no money. If I ask my friend Jane to assign a value to the envelope in my right hand, according to decision theory the unopened envelope is worth $5, because Jane knows there is a 1/2 certainty that it contains $10. Once the envelope is opened, it will either be worth $10 or no money, and there is no outcome on which it will be worth $5, but while it remains unopened, its expected value is $5. Another way of looking at the question is to ask Jane how much she would pay for the unopened envelope in my right hand. Her expected answer would be $5, which is the value that balances her negative risk (the amount she loses if the envelope is empty) with her potential gain (the amount she wins if the envelope contains money). Jane's preferences can be converted to percentages easily: there is a 50% chance that she should prefer the envelope in the right hand. In this highly simplified situation, Jane can assign a defined value to the expected utility of the envelopes. A 'vague' or 'indeterminate' utility is one which cannot be evaluated in that manner. For example, the Jane situation would become vague if I informed Jane that there was no money in one envelope and some money in the other envelope, then asked her how mush she would pay. She cannot make an educated guess about how much to pay, because she doesn't know the expected value of the second envelope.

Much in the same way, no one knows what will happen if we withdraw troops. It seems likely that Iraq would fracture, but along what fault lines no one is certain. The resulting power struggles might leave Iran in power across large parts of the Iraqi oilfield, or it might not. The end result might be favorable for the US, or it might not. If zero represents the status quo and one represents the best possible outcome of withdrawal, it's impossible to assign a number or range of numbers that encompasses the 'most likely' outcome of withdrawal, because there is no 'most likely set of outcomes'. Since there is no 'most likely outcome', the value of withdrawal is indeterminate, and the choice between the status quo and withdrawal weighs a known option against an unknown option. The choice is "vague," as the philosophical jargon goes. At this point in time, most Democrats in Congress believe that the expected value of some sort of withdrawal plan is higher than that of the status quo, while most Republicans believe the opposite. Because of the vagueness involved, however, there is no truely 'rational' decision to be made, and this is the root of the dilemma in which the nation currently finds itself.

What in the world does this have to do with Christianity, one might well ask. Well, the answer is that it explains other political-religious divides in our nation. If one is a fundamentalist Christian, the expected utility of heaven is infinitely high. There is no decision on which the 'do this and go to heaven' outcome is not better that any other situation. This is the root of all moral absolutism. If there is a set of rules and one believes that they are inflexible (ie, if one believes that the word of God is infallible), then there is no higher expected utility to be found than in following those rules exactly and getting the expected outcome from them: heaven. This is why the religious right campaigns so hard on issues like abortion. The amount of utility that can be expected from the ease gained in a prospective mother's life by aborting a child (even if that is a large amount of utility, since the mother won't have financial troubles in the future, can get an education, won't be forced into a marriage to the child's father, etc) is trumped by the expected utility of going to heaven. An envelope containing the benefits of the abortion will never be more utile than an envelope containing heaven, so our hypothetical Christian will assert for the person's own good that getting the abortion is categorically wrong.

The flaw in this reasoning is the assumption that the rules are absolute. This game only plays out correctly if one assumes that changing social times don't affect what is morally right. If changing social times do somehow affect what is morally correct, then the expected value of getting the abortion increases dramatically, because there is a chance that the abortion envelope will outweigh the heaven one (benefits of abortion+heaven > just heaven). There is no certainty about the will of God, however, in this situation, so the game becomes much like the one that America is currently playing over Iraq. Maybe morality in this particular social climate will be conducive to abortions, and maybe it won't, but if the rules are uncertain there's no sure way to know the value of that envelope. Maybe withdrawal from Iraq will end favorably for America, and maybe it won't, but since the future is uncertin there's no sure way to know the value of that envelope either.

In situations of vague or indeterminate values, like the Iraq war or the question of morality if one believes that the scripture is not completely inerrant, there is no 'right' answer in decision theory. All that the math prescribes is that we all consult our moral intuitions and do as we personally see fit, with the understanding that we may well be making the wrong choice. The real problem arises when, as now with Iraq, people refuse to make the choice at all. As we refuse to make the choice, the expected utility for both options decreases. Sometimes it's better to commit to an indeterminate future than to not commit at all.


Note: the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy will explain game theory more rigorously than I did here, if you're interested. It's a field that intersects economics, mathematics, and philosophy, and it's very worth learning about.

Bush's heresy: the theology that guides Manifest Democracy

It's a soundbyte that comes up fairly frequently in connection with the Iraq: the idea of crusades, of holy wars. Bush has repeatedly given comments to the effect that he believes it's his God-given mission to evangelize the rest of the world with democracy. The sensible thing for the White House to do would be deny, and placate the millions for whom the words 'holy war' can't possibly have good connotations. But that's sort of hard to do when Bush throws off comments like this one:

The other debate is whether or not it is a hopeless venture to encourage the spread of liberty. Most of you all around this table are much better historians than I am. And people have said, you know, this is Wilsonian, it's hopelessly idealistic. One, it is idealistic, to this extent: It's idealistic to believe people long to be free. And nothing will change my belief. I come at it many different ways. Really not primarily from a political science perspective, frankly; it's more of a theological perspective. I do believe there is an Almighty, and I believe a gift of that Almighty to all is freedom.

God wants us to spread democracy, because it's his gift to everyone. Bloggers from across the spectrum get nervous when he says things like this. But is it actually true? The theology behind freedom is complicated in the Bible, but it's worth a second look, because this is the heresy that's currently guiding American foreign policy.

Before we dive into heavy scripture, a few caveots are in order. Bush is discussing political freedom here, but what sort of political freedom specifically? If the statement is read as charitably as possible (an uncharitable reading would attribute 'American-style democracy' as his reading for political freedom), he is discussing a sort of general freedom from tyrany. The best reading that I can come up with is that he believes God thinks all people should be free from oppression from their government. This does not necessarily require a democracy, as reasonably enlightened monarchs have in the past produced governments that refrain from oppressing their citizens. Nonetheless, the sort of freedom Bush discusses is notably distinct from a second sort of freedom that often comes up in these discussions (and in the scripture): freedom of will. Freedom of will is the ability of a person to make choices that reflect his own agency, rather than the agency of God.

That said, what does the Bible think about freedom, and whether we should be spreading it? Perhaps the earliest mention of some sort of freedom comes from the creation story in Genesis 5:

1 This is the written account of Adam's line. When God created man, he made him in the likeness of God.

Although it could be referring to physical likeness, a number of theologians believes that this little statement refers to the fact that God created man and gave man his own agency (free will), just as God himself had agency. The Old Testament frequently mentions that God explicitly gives man free will in the matter of worshipping the Hebrew God or other gods (Deuteronomy 30:19; Deuteronomy 30:20; Joshua 24:15; Joshua 24:18; 1 Kings 18:21). Even if a government enforces worship of a particular god (as the government of Israel at the time did), these scriptures seem to reflect the idea that compliance with that requirement is an effort of a person's free choice. The result is the conclusion that even religiously oppressive governments (Islamic governments who forbid Christianity) should not be invaded for the sake of preserving believers' free will: even if the government designates Islam as the religion of choice, following the decree is an individual's choice. Wars to preserve or spread freedom cannot be justified by claiming that a government (no matter how oppressive) is interfering with a person's God-given free will.

What of explicitly political freedom, however? Much of the Bible was written in a time period where democracy was unheard of. The Old Testament is a time of kings, emperors, and dictators. Even Israel's God-given sytem of government involved a king, and the inherit risk of a bad king (Israel famously had several runs of repeatedly bad kings). Moreover, there is a lot of Old Testament law to show that Israel in that era would be considered just as oppressive today as most of the Islamic republics. Women were required to dress in specific ways and were not allowed the same freedoms as men. Women were considered property and were bought and sold in deals between families or towns. Slavery was not only allowed, slavery of non-Jews was encouraged. Punishments for petty crimes included removal of body parts, or even loss of life in some cases. Punishments for murder and other major crimes were always capital. Furthermore, justice was often decided not by an unconcerned outsider, but by town elders, even when the families of the elders themselves were parties to the dispute. Throughout the Old Testament, God shows himself less concerned with the existance of tyrants or oppression, and more concerned with individuals and their choice to follow the laws or not as concerned religion.

If the coming of Christ represented a revolution of theology, however, perhaps the New Testament would be friendlier to Bush's brand of evangelistic democracy. Jesus himself seemed unconcerned with tyranical governments, and in fact seems to advocate a distinction between the concerns of the soul and the concerns of the government:

19Show me the coin used for paying the tax." They brought him a denarius, 20and he asked them, "Whose portrait is this? And whose inscription?"

21"Caesar's," they replied.

Then he said to them, "Give to Caesar what is Caesar's, and to God what is God's."

Caesar's was certainly what one might call an oppressive government, but Christ shows no interest in undermining that government. Later, Paul and other early evangelists emphasize compliance with state laws, even if those laws were oppressive to Christians. When imprisoned for his faith and freed in an earthquake, Paul refuses to leave the prison, and convinces the other inmates to stay as well out of respect for the laws of the (oppressive) state. Once more, early Christians seem unconcerned about oppressive governments. Nowhere in the Bible does a mandate for freedom from oppression appear.

The Biblical attitude towards governments in general (particularly in the New Testament) might best be described as apathetic. God doesn't care what the earthly government is like, he cares about the decisions of individuals. Paul goes out of his way to show that even in an oppressive regime, the oppressive laws are unimportant. The focus is on following God whatever the circumstances. The message of the New Testament is repeatedly 'love all, injure none, worship only one God'.

In my opinion, the appeal of the idea of God is that He doesn't care about politics. The draw for Christianity historically has been that earthly circumstances are irrelevant to faith, and that faith is what will matter in the grand reckoning of things. That message is what's made Christianity such a religion of hope for poor, oppressed people for centuries. It's too bad that Bush seems set on undermining it. The concept that issues of government pale before issues of faith is central to doctrine, though in complex enough ways that someone who isn't thinking very hard might miss it. Bush's idea of evangelistic democracy undermines that concept, by trying to sell freedom from governmental oppression as an issue of faith (which it's not) instead of an issue of political philosophy (which it is). Issues of political philosophy should be secondary to issues of faith for a Christian like Bush, but his evangelistic democracy puts the cart before the horse by elevating a question of government to equal status with questions of God. Bush clearly hasn't thought much on the matter, which tells me that he's less concerned with what the Almighty actually says about freedom, and more concerned with spewing talking points to convince his fundamentalist Christian base. It speaks ill of him that he cares so little for his faith, but speaks worse of the fundamentalist Christians who buy the idea, and should know better.

What part of 'planned' do they not understand?

Lawmakers are to be congratulated for defeating an amendment that would have blocked Federal funding to Planned Parenthood. Blame Indiana Republican Mike Pence for the amendment, which specifically targeted Planned Parenthood by name, and tried to forbid the Department of Labor, Health and Human Services from giving them funds. Luckily, the Democratic majority shut the amendment down easily.

Sometimes I think some fundamentalist Christians have a translation device in their brains. Someone may say "family planning", but they hear "abortion". The two words get magically conflated. Just to clarify: the two are not the same. Family planning includes information about birth control, sexual health, and (believe it or not) pregnancy care as well as abortions. Planned Parenthood does worlds of good for teens and poor couples that can't afford birth control otherwise. They help with the sexual safety education that the government has been remiss in providing of late. They provide cheap pregnancy monitoring and advice about how to have a healthy pregnancy. When I was in college, I volunteered in a counseling agency for teens, and we regularly referred teens in need to Planned Parenthood. Often parents in denial are reluctant to buy birth control for a teen, or teens are afraid to confess that they may have an STD to an adult. Planned Parenthood is a resource for both of these problems, and teens are often almost ridiculously grateful for a place where they're sure that they won't be condemned for their sexual choices. Planned Parenthood prevents and treats more STDs than any other group I know of. I'd hate to see the country's sexual health situation without it. From my acquaintance with the group, abortion advising is only a minuscule part of the good work that they do.

Politics of church, politics in church

When one discusses Just War Theory in any decent philosophy class, a distinction emerges between jus in bello (justice in war) and jus ad bello (justice of war). "In bello" implies questions about whether the war is fought justly: do soldiers murder civilians without cause, are the wounded treated ethically and without cruelty? "Ad bello" raises questions about the justifications for the war: was it entered for a just reason? In the politics of the church a similar divide emerges.

More and more, the national news covers politics "ad christo" (of God), but only very rarely does a newspaper run a story of the politics "in christo" (in God). Politics of God includes questions of whether evolution should be taught in schools, whether abortion is ethical or whether stem-cell research should be encouraged. It's the political church that we're all familiar with, and debates are mostly peopled with bible-waving fundamentalists on one side, and athiests on the other.

Today's USA Today religious feature, however, focused more on the politics "in christo". It pointed out that members of the church community are often ostracized for political stances that they take on church/state separation. The article doesn't go far enough, in my opinion. Hot-button political issues are far from the only thing for which members of a church can be ostracized. I've seen churches divided and families expelled over questions of whether to hold an earlier Sunday service with contemporary music. I've known people ostracized from a church because their children are on the wrong soccer team in the town rec league.

The point that the articles tries to make, but misses, is that the church body itself is a highly political thing. Hypocritically, people jockey for power and for position within the church just as they do in town council elections, or in Senate debates. I think that there is the pervasive idea that the church body should be above politics, that because church members are called to love everyone, there should be none (or at least less) of the petty power struggles that mark other organizations in our lives, but this is certainly not the case. Every church, no matter how small, has its politics. People get hurt, people lose friends, jobs are even lost over power struggles within the town church to see who gets to be deacon for a year. Should it surprise us? No. The church is an organization made up of humans, and a wise philosophy professor once told me that any human social gathering is a political gathering, because there are no groups without politics.

Beyond individual congregational power plays, there is a massive political game being played at denominational levels. In the Southern Baptist Convention several years ago, a resolution was passed to forbid women pastors in SBC churches. This resolution did not really reflect an interpretation of scripture (the scriptural arguments in favor were specious at best), but instead represented the attempt by one faction of the Convention to prove to another faction that they had enough power to get a candidate elected in the vote for Convention President that took place later that same night. The decision that the rest of the country saw as a statement of backward, women-bashing doctrine was actually just a power struggle played out by proxy.

Christ calls for Christians to love all, forgive all, and harm none. It's too bad that the most basic tenets of the faith get so often lost in the human tendency to play politician instead of empathizer.

Subversive Scriptures: Colossians 3:22-4:1

22Slaves, obey your earthly masters in everything; and do it, not only when their eye is on you and to win their favor, but with sincerity of heart and reverence for the Lord. 23Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, 24since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving. 25Anyone who does wrong will be repaid for his wrong, and there is no favoritism.

1Masters, provide your slaves with what is right and fair, because you know that you also have a Master in heaven.

This little gem has been used to justify some real horrors over the years. Three hundred years of slave trade and suffering was built on these words. They popped up a lot (often in conjunction with property rights arguments) in the run-up to the Civil War, to justify our 'god-fearing' country not liberating the Southern slave plantations. Now, they're virtually ignored.

The modern problem of these scriptures is that they force the critically-thinking Christian to ask "How should I read the Bible?" Should it be read as God's infallible word, every verse inspired and inerrant? Or should it be read as inspired by God, but written by very human men, whose cultures and personal perceptions will sometimes influence the verse? Both readings have their appeal, but modern Southern Baptists have often answered the question leaning more toward the first. The current Convention stance on Biblical inspiration is that it's the inerrant and utterly infallible word of God, full stop.

That's nice in theory, but verses like these make it thorny in practice. According to this, slavery is not only justified, but is the will of God! Working in the fields under horrific conditions is just like working for God! Now, sometimes you'll hear the defense that slaves in Paul's day and slaves in the Civil War South were treated very differently. I've heard people inform me that slaves in Rome were normal people, they just didn't have some of the rights of Roman citizens. This is utter bullshit. Slaves in ancient Rome worked in mines, built projects for the Empire as manual labor under the hot Mediterranean sun, and were otherwise subject to horrific abuses. Slavery is slavery. One problem of these verses, for biblical inerrantists, is that they're difficult to explain away or gloss over.

The even larger problem of these verses is their context. They sit towards the end of a passage that has become a large feature of Southern Baptist doctrine in specific, but also Protestant doctrine in general. Even people who've never read the Bible are familiar with this passage. Let's look at the verses in context. They come in a section that the NIV (New Internation Version, the most popular modern translation of the Bible) entitles "Rules for Christian Households."

Rules for Christian Households

18Wives, submit to your husbands, as is fitting in the Lord.

19Husbands, love your wives and do not be harsh with them.

20Children, obey your parents in everything, for this pleases the Lord.

21Fathers, do not embitter your children, or they will become discouraged.

22Slaves, obey your earthly masters in everything; and do it, not only when their eye is on you and to win their favor, but with sincerity of heart and reverence for the Lord. 23Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, 24since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving. 25Anyone who does wrong will be repaid for his wrong, and there is no favoritism.

1Masters, provide your slaves with what is right and fair, because you know that you also have a Master in heaven.

Just five verses up is the infamous "wives submit to your husbands" that has become the justification for treating women as second-class citizens in the Kingdom of God. It's a verse that gets preached on a lot, usually in conjunction with the "husbands love your wives" that follows. After that comes the famous "Children obey your parents". This verse is part of the curriculum of every childhood education packet that the church produces. Children will have a Sunday School lesson on it reliably once a year, sometimes more often. My point is that these are not portions of scripture that are readily ignored, because the other verses in this little group are lynchpins of doctrine. Yet there sits the slavery verse, like the elephant in the room, and no one discusses it.

The current popular line from Bible inerrantists (and notice how this involves adding content to the Bible to interpret it in a metaphorical way, since none of this is actually in the supposedly 'inerrant' scripture) is that Paul addresses slaves because they were a reality he could neither change nor ignore. Paul doesn't say anything in the scripture about regretting the existance of slavery as an institution, and here in these verses seems to accept it as part of the god-ordained household order: Children should obey their parents, slaves should obey their masters.

Modern Christians, according to the 'Paul addressed what he didn't like but couldn't help' interpretation, should look at this in light of employee/employer relationships. On the contrary, though, Paul says here in the text that the master/slave relationship is a holy one, just like the husband/wife relationship is holy. Just as the Church is the bride of Christ (you'll hear this come up as a reason for defining marriage as between a woman and a man), we are all the slaves of a heavenly master! We are certainly not God's employees, so to interpret the scripture in that way is misleading. To claim this discusses the employer/employee relationship dismisses Paul's point that this is not only how a Christian household should function, it's how the family of God functions. This little passage is about household relationships, and I doubt that very many people would call the employer/employee relationship a household relationship. Paul is discussing how Christians should relate to those closest to them, to the people with whom they shared meals and baths and beds, not those with whom they did lunch once a week to catch up on financial reports. Again, the employer/employee comparison rings false.

How should Christians discuss the passage in which the Bible condones slavery? If asked, most Christians would say that slavery is a moral wrong, yet according to the Bible this is not the case. If it is indeed a moral wrong, it's a first-class example of a way in which changing social norms have changed moral norms. Slavery was fine in Paul's day, and he doesn't address it as a moral wrong, but as an integral part of a household. Slavery today would be morally wrong, and most Christians today would look upon a person making the claim that slaves are an integral part of their household as morally deficient. Often one hears about issues like women's rights or queer rights that Christians are certain their strong morality shouldn't have to change with the times, but here is good evidence to the contrary. This verse (especially since it's so prominently placed next to verses that many fundamentalists hold dear) is a big problem for those who would call morality inflexible and the Bible inerrant. The Southern Baptist Convention falls squarely into this category. It's subversive scripture run amok and causing havoc in the placid streets of fundamentialist moral rectitude.

Our enlightened fathers, and why we should separate church and state

Friday's USA Today editorial letters in response to the misleading "Founding Fathers" article (I blogged about it here) were generally good. There were two in agreement, and two in opposition. The opposition actually got more word count this time than the agreement, which is encouraging if the paper is reflecting letter volume in its word count.

One thing that I found problematic in the opposition letters printed is the notion that the Founding Fathers included the separation of church and state clause out of a fear that allowing religion access to government's monopoly on force would lead to tyrany. Though this may have been part of their reasoning I don't think it's the main part. More importantly, the Founders were deeply indebted to Enlightenment principles, and the Enlightment believed in government by reason instead of government by superstition. This was the logic that the courts took account of in the Everson ruling that the "Founding Fathers" article laments.

The logic behind the church/state line was that Kantian morality (morality justified by logic rather than by appeal to what God wants) was better suited to making laws that would govern a diverse population than a religious-based morality. Reason-based morality can be argued over logically by people with differing viewpoints, and can be rationalized based on points of argumentation. In short, it's a better way of arriving at laws that everyone can agree with, because it gives laws that everyone can understand logically. Religious-based morality, on the other hand, often can't be explained to a person outside the religion in a way that the outsider can understand. The Jewish faith, for example, doesn't try to explain to outsiders why it's morally wrong to complete a circuit on the Sabbath, because it's something of a lost cause to justify the 'wrongness' to someone who doesn't share the Jewish faith. The idea was that laws made under a religious-based system would be points of division instead of unity.

There are other good reasons to separate church and state, but that's the big one, and it's also the one that never enters the argument when people talk about this divide. Maybe the underlying principles are too complex for the public discourse, but I'm optimist enough to think that's not the case. I think it just doesn't occur to your everyday Joe Christian when he talks about whether the state should post the 10 Commandments. I'm a Christian, and I consider myself devout, but for the reasons above I'd be ashamed of my nation if it did.