Proximity, Novelty, and Frequency

When something happens like the Las Vegas shooting, it is natural for people to talk about it for awhile.  But a glaring cultural and personal fallacy is revealed here.

At risk of sounding cold, this event is not unique.  Random violence and bloody death of regular people occurs all over the world all the time.  These are all tragic acts committed by tragically damaged people.  They are all available to us in near real time.  Most of us can't even say we don't KNOW it happens in a purely logical sense. (We may not THINK about it, but we KNOW it if we take a second.)  Yet most of us never acknowledge that it occurs.

So why is it such a big deal this time?

The answer is simply the perception of proximity.  Because it occurs in a place we might go, or relatively close to a place we currently are.  But this is a fallacy, because if you live in Florida, for example, you are physically closer or equally close to places where this occurs all the time.  Namely, the Caribbean and Central America.

You might say, "but this is our country."  Sure.  But there is no physical barrier between those places and this one.  I can be in Mexico from Tampa in a day's drive.  And truthfully, that statement reveals a flaw and a fallacy.  The flaw: cultural bigotry, and the fallacy: novelty.

Because this event is different from what we usually experience, we take note.  This is a fallacy because for the vast majority of Americans our lives have not been disrupted by the event.  If we hadn't heard about it yet, as would have been the case 200 years ago, we would still be going on as if nothing happened.  So why do we feel different because we know of it?  Again, I'm not saying this isn't tragic nor terribly affecting for those directly involved or with family and friends who were.  Hang with me, I'm going somewhere with this.  The reason is simply because of how we associate the event.  It FEELS closer, newer.

Lastly, we are affected because of the sheer frequency of reports.  What was in reality one event with a finite number of tragedies is reported and discussed endlessly, even when there is nothing new or only marginally new.  The truth is we can't do anything with all that info anyway, so it just serves to rile us up, which is exactly the goal of the commercially driven news.  Please do us all a favor and stop using those sources.  You do realize that Houston is still a wreck, but you never hear about it any more because it doesn't generate the traffic after a while. 

This feeling of inescapability is a fallacy.  Statistically, it is now only slightly more likely that it will happen to you.  In REALITY, it is NO more likely, not one bit, now than it was prior.  It's just in your head.

What troubles me most is the inconsistency.  We can be so unaffected by the same or worse suffering for such silly reasons as it isn't in a place or context we connect with and it isn't thrown up in our face constantly.  But then very affected by something that is in reality no different, simply because our mind associates it differently!  This should bother us.

Gospel

OK.  So this is such a hard topic, that I just wrote a screen full of paragraphs and deleted them all.

Here's the difficulty distilled.  If the Gospel is such good news that people would change their lives from it, change their personalities, go to very gruesome deaths over it, why don't I feel that way about it?  Truth is I don't.  I feel like I should.  But I just don't. 

So let's break down the possibilities. 

1. I am broken such that I am having an inappropriate reaction.

Possible.  I could be mentally damaged in a way that I can't perceive this correctly.  Problem is it's for all people.  So if I can't perceive it appropriately, there's nothing I can do about it, and further discussion is pointless.  I'll either be excused by a good God or condemned for it by an evil one.

2. I am so sinful that it's beyond me.

I thought this for many years.  It led to constant searching, anxiety, self-hatred, and extreme asceticism that even adversely affected my health.  Many of the Mystics started here too and I had clung to them as brothers and sisters in a struggle.  But here's the thing.  Some of them left that life after coming to believe God didn't want them to harm themselves in attempts to cleanse the wicked.

I have to agree here because I also feel the same way.  There was no joy in it, and joy is supposed to be a fruit of the Spirit.  Plus, if I step outside myself and look as objectively as I can, I'm seeking far more than many other people who feel the joy and love the Truth.  Many don't ever even enter such a crisis of existence.  So explaining that could force me to brimstone preaching if I go the Armenian route since they're all dead in their transgressions and marching straight to hell and I should shock them into reality.  Or else I slip into pride or despair on the Calvinist side, since I'm either one of the elect or not, as you choose to interpret the attitude.

3. There is no Gospel.

Tempting.  But I've been down this route before.  It ends in nihilism.  If there is no real truth, then my highest and best faculties are illusions and there are no consequences except to cease being, which doesn't matter anyway.  I am forced into hedonistic abandon as I try to get the most pleasure out of my meaningless life or more usually for nihilists, into despair as no matter of effort makes any real difference.

Of course there's all kinds of outposts where people stop short, such as the progeny concept where our goal is to preserve the species as a whole.  But this ignores individual suffering and identity, and worst of all, still slides quickly to nihilism when I realize that the drive to preserve the species is also a biological illusion...WHY is it good to preserve the species.  The word 'good' ceases to have real meaning...hence the reason nihilists tip toward despair.

Or if 'good' is a real thing, I'm back into objective Truth, and we go back to 1 or 2.

4. I've got the Gospel wrong.

Obviously, I left this for last because this is what I have concluded.  It comes to me over many centuries of writing, from many places, and from many directions that are unrelated to each other.  But this is where I am.  I've had it wrong.  I've been taught it wrong. 

So this leads to the question, what IS the gosepl then?  When I think about what makes me stay a Christian.  What makes me bubble over with joy.  What makes tears stand in my eyes.  What I can't help but share and what I would...seriously would easily go to my death or torture before I deny it.  It isn't any of the things I was taught in Sunday school...man, threaten to seriously start flaying my skin off alive and frying me in a giant hot pan (this has really happened) I'm probably going to find a way to reason out of most anything I learned to recite...I'm just telling you the truth.

But what I won't deny is that God loves each and every one of us.  Dearly deeply loves us.  He doesn't condemn.  He heals.  He doesn't want rule followers.  He doesn't want political duty.  He doesn't want Christians who make Christians (whatever that means was never clearly defined; sorry bro that's why we parted ways).  He wants children that climb up in his lap.  He wants a whole family of people who love each other and live in respect and not just pretend, but really truly fulfill the needs in each other.  It's not a fake it till you make it thing.  It's not a man-up thing (Geez, don't get me started on that one).  What he wants is simple, honest, goodness.  God never left us.  He never turned away from us.  Nothing is too big for him.  All wrongs will be righted.  All wounds will be healed, no matter who you are, where you are from, or even what you mistakenly believe.  Because the real Truth IS irresistible.  Who wouldn't want to fall into the arms of the perfect love and peace.  ALL of us all over the planet, no matter who, when, where, or how, know this.  I read the Bible this way.  I see Jesus as epitomizing this.  It doesn't deny other religions, it subsumes them.  I see this idea truly revolutionizing the world.  Not always under the flag of Christianity, but in a steady progression of higher and higher societal ideas which are large scale mirrors of individual ideals.

It makes me change my ways...I want to be good.  BE good, not just SEEM good.  I am free to give of myself because I know it matters and will only generate more good.  I want to tell others so they can be freed from the fears and hurts they have.  I want to help HEAL those hurts, even if it means taking some of them on myself, and thus I participate in God's work.  This is a message I would take to the ends of the earth.

And as much as it scares the living sense out of me, I'd just have to be flayed if you wanted me to say anything otherwise because denying that real Goodness and Love exist is to turn suffering brothers and sisters into more pain than you can give me.  And that I just can't do.  THAT's GOSPEL.

Missed

I am reading a modern book right now (yeah I do read modern ones sometimes).  It's by Daniel Quinn, whom I've mentioned before.  He wrote Ishmael, which is one of my favorite books.  Then he further developed the ideas in the book I'm reading now called The Story of B, and others to follow.

I read Ishmael back in the 1990's and it opened my eyes to a new way of seeing and thinking.  Then later, I read the sequel, My Ishmael, which is actually third in written order.  I liked this one nearly as much as the first book.  I'd skipped B because the plot sounded questionably interesting and was only tangentially in the storyline of the other two.

I don't agree with everything Quinn says, his history is often in error, and his philosophical/logic skills are often faulty.  But I have practised being able to "eat the meat and spit out the bones" as a friend says, so that doesn't bother me if there's good to be had in it.  But then I decided to pick up B.  It's terrible.

I get the distinct sense that Ishamel may have received such a bad reaction that Quinn went a little "Moses striking the rock".  I've seen that with other storytellers that have a message, but this one is just not good.  It's too full of sour grapes and brow-beating ideas.  As he mentions in the book itself, this time he's taking a different approach.  He shouldn't have.  But as I don't do book reviews, I'm going to leave it at that, and focus on my reactions.  If you want more, read it yourself, then we can talk.

The biggest flaw in Quinn's vision, as portrayed in the book, is that it's a reaction to an entirely phantom image of Christianity.  He seems to have a certain idea of Christianity, which I've seen practised by many self-styled Christians.  But he doesn't recognize that this may or may not be a correct view, nor that there are other interpretations that are almost diametrically opposed to this view within the diversity of Christendom.

If Christianity was what he portrays it: a sort of Dan Brown-esque conspiracy laden jumble of contradictions to dupe simpletons, which any thinking-person ought to be able to see for what it is, I would hate it too.

But here's the kicker: his alternative is very much the Christianity I know and follow!  He just attempts to rebrand it as a universal animism.  Even the strict conservative Christianity I was raised in had many of the elements he seems to be seeking in his reconstructed nature-based religion.

For example, in B he propounds that every place is sacred, every living thing.  That all are interconnected and that in a real sense, they all live out their lives in the hand of the god.  He makes a distinction that he doesn't mean the all-powerful creator God, but the less distinct animus of the single place.

Well, my understanding of the Bible is exactly this, except of course that the deity is the universal Good, the all-powerful God.  Which is very much more to his point, I think.  Coming from the obvious Hippie perspective he originates in, the Universe (which he actually refers to at one point) is by definition ONE thing.  If all life is part of this big ONE thing.  Why divide that into myriad animi of place?  Wouldn't the world itself be one thing as much as all things in it are one?  If there is an animus of each of the small expressions of the one, how much more a single grand Animus in which all the others were collected, reflected, and imagined?

In fact, I know many Christians that actually do operate in a worldview of lesser spiritual beings guarding and shepherding places and activities.  The Romantics, and even CS Lewis routinely referred to these beings as part of their cosmos.

So what is to be gained by stepping so insistently outside of Christianity as Quinn tries?  A sense of place?  Heck, I know more Christians that HEAVILY venerate places, even natural ones, than those that don't.  Even to the point that I think it's silly, since obviously one place is no better than another IN ITSELF.  As Quinn agrees, ALL places are sacred.  To me this is so only because of the presence of God in them, not any aspect of the atoms, as such, in that locale.  So my prayers are no better heard in one spot over another. Like the Centurion praised for his faith that Jesus didn't have to come to his house to heal someone.

I've seen this far too often: someone gets an idea of something locked in their head, especially if it was a bad experience, and they judge all other similar things as that.  This is especially true with Christianity.  This is the very reason I'm so dogged against Christians who knowingly or unknowingly play into these stereotypes.  Because when it comes down to it, the burden of communication is on the communicator.  If someone gets the wrong message from what I say, that's my fault, not theirs.  If for no other reason than I am the one who wants them to hear me.  I can't expect people who aren't asking the question to do the work necessary to get my answer.

But back to the former side, it never pays for us to misjudge, misunderstand.  To understand, we have to listen and explore with openness.  Not to say lack of critical thought, by any means, but with openness.  It also never pays to assume one perspective or case is true for all others.

The ironic thing, is that I learned that in large part FROM Quinn!

The Difference

I was once told by someone who had just met me in person that I was not what she expected.  She said my writing was fierce and angry, but sitting in front of her, I was nothing like that at all.  Of course she fell prey to a common fallacy of generalizing a very limited experience (of me, in this case) to what is a much larger and more complex reality.  But I don't want to bash her logic.

Instead, I want to apologize...in the old sense of offering a defense...for this blog.  It is intended to be a very real and raw and unfiltered record of my experiences.  As such, the tone vacillates, mostly across the more troubling spectrum of human emotions, since obviously, I'm not wrestling with much in the busy or more pleasant times; leastways, I don't have time to write about them.

So it occurred to me that the few of you who read this, especially any random surfers who hit on it, may easily get the impression that I'm a hateful and angry person.  And in some aspects you would be absolutely correct.  But that certainly isn't all I am.  Nevertheless, mistaking my state is less of a concern than if you were to mistake my intent toward others.

While I most certainly reference and sometimes quote actual events and people, some of whom might actually read this blog on occasion, you'll also notice that I never use names or identifying characteristics.  And as an added safeguard, I'll let you in on a little secret: I sometimes even swap pronouns or other subtle indicators just in case someone starts to think they know who I'm talking about.

Why?  Because my intention is never to judge or condemn the person.  We are, all of us, much more than any single incident.  More even than a history or a portfolio of behavior.  We are complex, living people who change and grow and fail and succeed.  I have felt the daggers and darts of judgement and misunderstanding and I would never be the source of pain to another.

Like Paul, I am keenly aware, more than most, of my own failings.  As raw as this blog is, you are not privy to my most inner thoughts and feelings.  The climate in my head is a harsh and terrible place of extremes built in arid arid regions of asceticism, glaring plains of self-scrutiny, tempestuous seas of emotion, and dark mires of spiritualism.  Trust me, no one survives there, even myself.  My point is that I expound externally nothing harsher than I have already applied to myself.  And while you have the option of turning off my blog, I can't get out of my own head.  I am very much the subject of the old Linkin Park song.  But while this explains it somewhat, it does not excuse my virtiolic.

The difference, I think, is in the target.  If you read carefully, you'll notice that my attacks are always directed at a fallacy of logic or belief.  Particularly where that fallacy has a negative impact (intended or not) on another and usually weaker party.  You see, the vitriolic is toward the idea and it's manifestation in behavior.  Not the person.  If we were all to play so nice as to not offend anyone about anything they do, the result would be that the weakest and softest among us bear the undue burden of our mistakes.  So I'm sorry, I have to speak against it.  I know you are not your actions or even your ideas and are therefore not receiving the bullet that you assume to take.  No one has the right to allow their problems to harm another without their consent, even if your personal well-being is so entangled with your behavior that you feel personally wounded when I speak against it.  In fact, the wound, even as fallacious as your affront is, will likely do you good by forcing you to pay attention to it and perhaps disentangle yourself from yourself somewhat, though even that is categorically not my intent.


As I have said before, I am a sheepdog.  I help the shepherd herd the sheep.  I know my flock and I will continue to uncompromisingly attack those demons and shades that would harm them, even the ones that pretend to be shadows of holy and upstanding people.  If my jaws happen to snap a little too close for comfort, please remember I'm aiming for the leech on your neck and the wound you feel is from it digging in, not from me.  Just like any dog, grudges are not held.  When things are safe and good, you're welcome to lay your head on my back and we can gnaw a bone together.

41,000

There are an estimated 41,000 Christian denominations.  This varies depending on how you count, but lower numbers are around 33,000.  Wow.  That's a lot.  And I'm sure this doesn't pick up many 'flavors'  and styles within denominations.

The fact that there are so many doesn't really concern me.  Humans are a persnickity people who love to lump and split and join and faction.  Especially with things so dear to our hearts, like sports teams, and colleges, and fashion styles, landscaping, music, and religion.  I believe this to be a natural, though often perverted and at times over active tendency based in our genetic tribalism.  I've said it before; wolves have packs, birds have flocks, humans have tribes.  Best to simply accept it and move on.

But anyway, the thing that concerns me is what happens amongst Christians...they tend to assume people are on their side.  I can't tell you how many times I've talked to someone who finds out I'm a Christian who then assumes I believe so many things that they associate with it.  When statistically, I'm far less likely to believe what they do.  Of course it would be more prudent to discover a little more about my beliefs before getting into controversial topics, or simply avoid them altogether, but prudence is not a popular quality, nor is logic taught widely enough to achieve the same effect simply from efficiency.

So why do so many people automatically assume I am of their particular bent in what is truthfully quite a diverse pool?  Some of it is probably that people don't really encounter that many of the denominations in their lives.  Many are very small and regionalized, so it's a much smaller set of groups people encounter.  But even if there were only five major groups (I believe most people encounter far more than that) the beliefs could be different enough to teach us we may not be talking to someone who believes like we do.

So then there's training.  Most people really only know one or two in any depth.  Even if they've encountered others.  And if we know more, we're usually taught they are wrong.  This isn't usually the actual teaching, nor the reason the denominations split.  As CS Lewis said, those at the center of the wheel are much closer together than those at the end of the spokes.  If you research it, you'll find it is usually a very minor point of order or belief that caused the split.  Then culture and human nature did the rest.

But to return to the point, people may assume I believe like them, because I wouldn't be where they are, and friendly, if I didn't.  Or else, I've just confessed I do (in their mind) by the use of the term Christian, which they take to mean their version of it (which could be the only version they know).

Then some of it may be due to the fact that we don't talk about it in America.  I truthfully talked more publicly about my faith, and to a much more receptive audience, I might add, in Japan.  Coming from a pluralistic background, and in the safety of their decidedly non-Christian culture, my beliefs were no threat to them.  I was in no danger of wrecking their country with my weird ways.  So they could be genuinely curious and respectful.  I don't know about other countries, but I imagine other cultures range up and down the spectrum of tolerance from my two experiences.

Anyway, we don't talk about religion much in America, so it's almost a cagey thing to even bring up...even in a church.  We aren't used to explaining our beliefs or talking openly about them.  So when someone finds a 'clue' that I might share their beliefs, they drop guard and assume without thinking about the reality.

To branch out a bit, I'm convinced that many people abandon the term Christian altogether for more or less the same reasons.  Some don't want to be associated with the notion they have in their head of one denomination or experience when really their beliefs are very close to many other types of Christianity.  Some don't want others to think they're "one of those people" because of the negative connotation they bring to it.

So doesn't one of these denominations have to be right? How can I be so loose about it?  Well, sure, Truth, by definition can't be pluralistic.  But we're talking about human systems here.  At the root of Christianity there are some basic tenets that most groups will align on.  For one, they all center on the man Jesus.  They may differ on exactly who he was or what he did, but those distinctions are for the individual to root out.  We also all pretty much follow the same moral code...which incidentally we share with every other major world religion because (here's a secret), it wasn't created by Jesus.  It's innate to all humans.  The Bible even talks about this.  The rest is mostly just style, culture, and opinion.

Of course, ruling out all the distinctions for a watery ecumenical faith is not good either.  I'm simply suggesting we, first of all, know what we believe and recognize it as part of a wondrous diversity.  The God who could generate such a world of lifeforms could certainly reflect some diversity in music style and opinion.  Secondly, don't be afraid to explain your beliefs...which is tied to my third point: don't assume others believe the same way.  Go ahead and investigate and decide what's right for yourself.  Then stick to it.  But just because I go to certain place or say a certain thing, doesn't mean I'm also number 31,234...I could just as well be 31,235, or even 14,657!  And my version may just have an answer for the burning problem you want to talk about.