when you're trying to fight - thoughts on truth, part iii

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A committed atheist should believe that all morals are relative.

Likely, many atheists agree with that statement in principle. I suspect, however, that if pressed, they would struggle with the word "all".

People who don't believe in God often use phrases like "consent of the governed" or "culturally-relative values", the basic idea being that all morals are only as valuable and enforceable as decided by the people whom they affect. Unfortunately, this belief system builds upon the bedrock principles of individual human rights.

In such a system, each person has equal say, regardless of age, race, wealth, connections, etc. So long as a person does not violate the rights of another person, any action is permissible.

I am curious about how atheists arrived at this basic human right. Evolutionary theory directly contradicts this idea. According to evolutionary theory, individuals are not valuable, rather they are highly expendable. Individuals get to survive only so long as a bigger, smarter, faster, stronger individual allows them to survive.

Individual rights satisfy the sensibilities of all but the sociopathic in times of abundance. What right have I to claim your property, person, or life? None, so long as I have access to such privileges myself. But what if resources are more scarce?

Thinking along these lines does not take long to make sense of what happened in Germany in the 1930s. Hitler was probably history's incorruptible subscriber to evolutionary theory.

His American counterpart, Margaret Sanger, started an organization called Planned Parenthood. She understood that the eugenics at the barrel of a gun thing seemed a bit barbaric, so instead she introduced "choice" in order to decrease the "undesirable" populations of poor minority communities. Think about the locations of your local Planned Parenthood offices.

While many Christians should be much kinder than you find them, nearly all atheists should be infinitely more brutal - and unapologetically so. Even if such brutality is not for them, they certainly should not oppose it when they find it.

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truth, part ii

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Now, I'm not claiming to have the market cornered on truth, though my constitution is also not so weak that I believe there are many different versions of truth.

While I believe humility is essential to topics weighty as these, I also agree with the wise and cantankerous Dr. House when he said, "I find it difficult to operate under any other assumption [than that I'm always right]." That is, no one really lives their life as though their beliefs are not true - even if they claim they do.

In my class, we define truth as "ideas or statements that correspond with reality." And, for you sticklers out there, we define reality as "that which exists."

I realize that these statements, on a philosophical level, are undergirded by significant assumptions such as the ideas that we exist and the universe exists. Being that no alternative hypotheses are particularly useful, I have no problem proceeding on this basis. (After all, if we don't exist, who cares if these are faulty assumptions?)

Let's take the two prevailing systems of belief in our country: Christian Theism and Secular Humanism (or any such philosophy based on atheistic evolution).

Christians believe that God created the world and gave humans a special role and value within that world. This value pervades the Bible and therefore the Christian moral code. A plain-text reading of the Bible would suggest that any given Christian would: respect the value of every life (except those who take away the lives of others), respect property rights, value sex as sacred, value honesty, be selfless, be anti-racism, share material possessions with less fortunate believers, spread the gospel without fear of persecution, etc., etc., etc.

While it would be as unreasonable to expect a Christian to be perfect in these pursuits immediately as it would be to expect an athlete to be able to win a gold medal on the first day of training, it is perfectly reasonable to expect every Christian to be growing daily in these characteristics. After all, they claim this is their purpose, their deepest connection to the most profound realities of the universe.

And yet, how many Christians actually live this way?

Most people have no problem with this half of the argument. In fact, many report hypocrisy as their main objection to belief in the Christian God. Insert famous Gandhi quote here, etc.

In reality, however, very few people who consider themselves to be atheists (agnostics, philosophical materialists, strict rationalists, etc.) are much more devout to their understanding of truth than their hypocritical religious counterparts.

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knowing your secrets - thoughts on truth, part i

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"Does that make sense?" has become my most oft repeated phrase this school year.

In my senior classes, I teach Christian worldview. If you're unfamiliar with this idea, think philosophy, history, theology, and apologetics all rolled up into one. Perhaps you can see why I must keep constant gauge of whether or not my students are tracking with me.

We deal with light, pedestrian topics such as, "What is the nature of truth?", and other rib-ticklers like, "How could a good God allow so much suffering in the world?".

Likely, I will not discern until the end of the year whether more learning or confusion has resulted from our time together, though I pray it will be the former.

As I was preparing for our upcoming series of lessons, a small revelation occurred to me . . .

Very few people actually love truth.

Many, if not most, people enjoy truth casually. That is, they value honesty in their relationships, hate being lied to, etc., but few people passionately pursue what is true. In fact, sometimes we enjoy the farce.

I will ignore the easy "suspension of disbelief" required to watch movies and enjoy magic shows. Rather, when it comes to real life, we also enjoy a little slight of hand.

We like to believe that politicians are going to bring real change, or that their promises are not hollow. We like to assume the best of loved ones, even when they have repeatedly proven themselves untrustworthy or even dangerous.

We LOVE ignoring odds, whether in sports, with the lottery, or at the doctor's office.

Sometimes bucking reality can have advantages. Patients believing in their ability to fight cancer actually does improve their chances of survival.

On the other hand, playing the lottery on a weekly basis does not a good investment strategy make.

One of the most wonderful beauties and yet one of the most disturbing tragedies of the human mind is its complexity. Our self-awareness sets us apart as the only animals who can reason, discover, and discern with such incredible depth.

Yet our power to deceive, both others and ourselves, is destructive beyond our wildest dreams.

Whether or not we believe it, truth matters.

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part of me in the chaos that's quiet

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I used to dream of days off. Sick days, snow days - I welcomed any interruption to the daily obligation of spending hours learning at school and hours doing homework at home. These respites fluttered my heart with hopes of summer vacation like photographs and letters from a lover far away.

I paid no mind to the Everest of make-up work that awaited me. Rather, I turned my attention to Star Wars (Episode IV: A New Hope) which was recorded on a VHS tape from a television airing and had the commercials [mostly] paused out. Visions of justice-seeking intergalactic rebellion danced in my head, while I laid buried beneath blankets sweating out my fever on the couch.

As a student, my presence at school was compelled neither by positional nor financial mandate. School continued as normal when I was gone, and I lost no money by being absent. Furthermore, I possessed more than enough intellectual capability to catch up to my grade school counterparts with relative ease.

Unfortunately, a new dynamic has emerged as I travel further into adulthood. Now I must navigate a complex algebraic equation in order to determine whether any given illness is worthy of calling in sick for a day. The degree of illness - the money I would lose + the amount of work I would have to make up * the stress of coming up with a lesson plan for a substitute / how much I feel like I've been hit by a truck = either calling in sick or coughing up a lung in class.

Mature life requires many such decisions to be made. The New Super Mario Bros. or rent? Late-night blogging or enough sleep to function tomorrow? Another scoop of ice cream or fitting into my pants?

Why must all of the desirables be double-edged with such wicked consequences? It seems that life is one cosmic hangover waiting to happen.

Yet, these choices are not completely devoid of their joys. Responsibility yields a job well done, which yields a paycheck, which might yield some amusement in the form of a digitized Italian plumber and his dinosaur trying to save a fruitily-named princess. (Am I the only one who thinks Mario sounds more and more drug-induced the older I get?) Some benefits prove much more satisfying too - respect, appreciation, etc.

I suppose I will choose the high road for its glories, despite its challenges, stopping to rest only as necessary or earned. Still, I think I need to go witness the destruction of the death star again.

Use the force, Luke. Use the force.

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postmodernism and pancakes, part ii

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For the next few minutes, the young gentlemen loaded into the classroom a six-foot folding table, two electric griddles, pancake batter, plates, cups, plastic utensils, napkins, and syrup.

Their fellow students soon followed as the start of first-period drew closer. The others brought homemade coffee cake, various sugary cereals, and peanut butter. Only milk was forgotten, and the cafeteria was happy to provide white and chocolate cow juice (at a price, of course).

As appetizing chaos erupted for the first twenty minutes of class, I began to wonder if I had made a horrible mistake. I envisioned sugar-crazed students destroying the school like zombies craving flesh, never again learning from the Bible in my class. I saw ants forming battalions and staging an overthrow of my classroom. Oh, the horror I had invited by welcoming breakfast!

But then, tummies began to fill, and students respectfully deposited their sticky trash in a receptacle outside the classroom. The contented students then looked to me with an uncommon focus. At my urging, they took out their notebooks, and for the next hour we discussed the concept and history of postmodern thought.

I would dare say that it was our most productive class session to date. Apparently breakfast is the most important meal of the day.

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postmodernism and pancakes, part i

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In a fit of insanity, I chose to teach seven classes this year. This act of false-bravado and mental deficiency means that everyday approximately 157 students march through my classroom hoping to be shaped, molded, and instructed in truth.

At any given moment on every school day, 24 or 25 of them occupy my room - leaving only for lunch or to switch places with a couple dozen others of their knowledge-hungry peers. I have no prep periods, and only the 35 minutes of solace during the midday meal keep me from going fetal and rocking back and forth while envisioning my "happy place".

So why do this? Surely it's not for the paycheck, which routinely runs out as though it were being chased by a crazed axe-murderer. Nor does the "respect" conjured up by students ages 15 through 18 cause my ego to swell to self-actualizing proportions.

A couple of weeks ago, my seniors asked if we could meet at IHOP for our 80-minute block class the following morning. I declined, citing the overly-litigious atmosphere that surrounds schools in California (and the ridiculously sticky tables that seem the norm at every IHOP). As a matter of consolation, I offered that we could enjoy breakfast in the classroom but only if the students organized it themselves.

Two seniors met me at my classroom door the next morning, looking a bit more suspicious than usual. I unlocked the classroom, and they promptly marched through in order to open the classroom's other door, allowing their accomplice inside.

Clearly, they were on a mission.

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if I knew I was understood - recurring dreams, part ii

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The "pastor late for church" dreams stopped several months ago. Thankfully, the electroshock therapy was successful.

This summer, however, a new series of dreams has started.

These new dreams always occur in my classroom. In them, I am often brilliant, cruel, or both. My moments of brilliance in my dreams make Robin Williams' Dead Poets' Society instruction look like that of Ben Stein in Ferris Bueller's Day Off. (Ben Stein is an incredibly intelligent man in real life, by the way. You should listen to him every chance you get.)

Students always spark the moments of fantastical cruelty. I never instigate. I merely respond. A student arrogantly interrupts with one too many smart-aleck comments, and I wittily wither them far past the point of necessary correction to a place where their self-esteem hangs out a cardboard sign that reads "will work for pity."

You try working with teenagers without dreaming of exacting a little verbal revenge.

Because I do not know if any board members (or their friends) read these thoughts, I will decline to mention whether or not any of these nocturnal visions ever include forms of punishment still embraced by the state of Missouri, Catholic school nuns, or strict schools in Asian countries.

It seems as though the brief silence left by the frantic clergy dreams have been replaced by teacher dreams. I used to think the Saturday night dreams about church were a sign that I was still a pastor, even without a congregation.

I guess that means that I am really a teacher now.

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