Sola Ora and the Fallacy of Faith

I prayed so hard I got a headache, and now
I need two aspirin.

I recently read a story about a couple who are on probation, after their child died in 2009. The child was sick with bacterial pneumonia, and they relied solely on their faith to heal him. As one might predict by the fact they're on probation, their unfortunate son passed away. The reason this is news four years later is that they have had another son, and he too, has died - again after they ignored medicine in general, and tried to pray away what I understand was a reasonably aggressive case of diarrhea. You can read the original story here.

I'm going to preface this by saying that faith obviously has a role to play in medicine. For one thing, in absence of any evidence it's actually effective, I unerringly take white tea for my frequent headaches, and almost unerringly, the tea actually helps. What's more, I've seen a study or two that supports the idea that remote prayer provides positive results even in double-blind situations, where neither the doctors, the people praying, nor the people being prayed for are entirely sure which patients are being prayed for specifically. So there's that.

Having said that, I've not read a single case of a prayer dismissing cancer. Or diarrhea, or pneumonia, for that matter, that wasn't spurious at best. Excepting the acts of healing in the bible, I suppose, but take from that what you will. When the white tea doesn't work, I reach for ibuprofen. When I have an aggressive persistent chest cough for two months that comes and goes, I ignore it - until I take a coughing fit so grand I feel the need to see a doctor.

And that's sort of the thing of it. It wasn't that the couple couldn't get to a doctor (well, this was the US, so now that I think about that, it might actually be true) - it was that they refused to get to a doctor. Believe it or not, that was actually a violation of the terms of their probation.

It reminds me of a story I heard once. The town was flooding, and a radio message told Joe to get out of dodge. Joe prayed for his safety, ate a meal, and settled down to enjoy the relative quiet of an extra day off. Joe wakes up waist-deap in water and he steps to the veranda and sees a friend going by on a rowboat. "Hey Joe, come on, let's get out of here." "I prayed and God told me that I would be fine," so off Joe's friend goes. But the water is rising, and Joe's on the roof of his house. "Hey you," the helicopter operator cries. "Climb in the basket and let's get the hell out of here." "I am a man of faith, and I prayed, and God would never forsake me."

Joe died. But he was a man of faith, so he's standing before the throne of Judgement, and God says to Joe "What are you doing here? I sent you a weatherman, your friend, and a rescue worker!"

The long and short of it is that God's miracles are often, in WOD terms, coincidental magic. It's more likely that I will manage to find just enough in my pantry to make stew than I will be provided with a random free meal.

Perhaps my faith is limited in that regard, but I see no reason why God would help people in such a flashy manner, when history suggests his style is far more subtle.

Thank God for Small Favours

Today, I'm especially thankful that my initial interest in law and policy did not flourish to the point where I immediately pursued a career in either field. The Supreme Court of Canada heard arguments today in a case involving a man named Hassan Rasouli, an Irainian-Canadian who had an operation for a brain tumour. As a result of the surgery, he suffered an infection that caused catastrophic damage to his brain tissue - enough to render him in a vegetative state. After long months, he has recovered to the point of minimal consciousness.

The case considers the sticky issue of who makes the ultimate decision in removing life support for those in clinical brain-death: the doctors or the family. The case has remarkable complexity, such that I can only barely wrap my head around the questions being asked by it, let alone hope to answer them in a manner consistent with the law of the land and the obligations of the state.

For the one thing, there's the obvious question about whether or not it is ever right to withdraw life-support unless a person specifically requests it - in fact, I know a few people who would say that even requests by the patient for the removal of life support should be ignored. I find that those people in particular have a bad understanding of how life support works. To go further,is this even the right "test case" for the issue itself? Where Mr. Rasouli is experiencing slow improvement in his condition, many vegetative patients do not. What about them? Suppose it is mandated that the will of the family substitutes for the will of the patient in these cases - who will pay costs associated with long-term life support?

The issue for me, I think, is wrapped up in something more fundamental than ethics, what constitutes brain death, or whether the withdrawal of care should be left to family or the professionals. It's a question, really, with how we define death.

Now, there are a number of really easy ways to decide someone is dead. If their heart is no longer beating and they are not drawing a breath, they're dead. Fortunately, many people who are "dead" in this way can be recovered, often with brain damage associated with hypoxia (the loss of oxygen flow to the sensitive tissues of the human brain), but sometimes without, even hours afterword (this is particularly true in cases where death could be most closely linked to hypothermia - almost as if the tissues are preserved by the lower temperature). Obviously then, having your heart stop beating is not a good metric for death.

Now, from what we know of the human condition through rational observation and testing, the brain is the seat of the human consciousness. We can argue till the cows come home about how that works (personally, I believe that a soul is responsible for personality and decisions - the part of us that passes on - which interacts with the more mechanical brain), but the fact of the matter remains that without the brain in proper working order, the mind simply doesn't work properly. For this reason, most clinicians now use the idea of brain death - an absence of electrical activity in the brain - to define final death. While we can restart the heart.... we can't usually restart a brain once it's actually come to a stop.

But this is too simplistic. Even in a vegetative state where no response to any stimulus comes from the patient, often there is brain activity remaining. This person is dead to the world - nearly literally - yet clinically "alive".

I hope to God I'd never have to make this particular decision for anyone. I certainly hope I'd never find myself in Mr. Rasouli's position. This sort of thing I have actual nightmares about. Loss of proper brain function terrifies me on a level that almost nothing else can compare to.

I almost never do this, but please pray for the family in this case, for the patient, for the doctors, and for the Justices who must now decide it. May they all find peace in this decision, and may the decision reflect what is best for the world.

You couldn't pay me enough money to be the one to decide it... or even to be one of the nine who do.

The Danger (And Benefit) of Absolute Morality

It's been a subject of debate for, frankly, as long as I can remember. We all know from infancy that there is such a thing as right and wrong. What seems to be a bone of contention is whether or not something is right or wrong in every given test case - if morality is absolute.

Meet Andy. Andy is a hypothetical person belonging to the middle economic class of a fully modern, westernized country. Andy was "brought up right" and is generally concerned with the rightness or wrongness of their actions. We're going to follow Andy as they run through some simple scenarios.

Andy is walking down the street when they encounter two others, Bobby and Casey. Bobby has backed Casey into a corner, which distresses Casey. Because Andy is only just encountering the pair, Andy cannot determine the exact mode of conflict, except that Casey is distraught, and Bobby seems not to care.

As a moral case, we know that violence is wrong. Sure, most of us are accustomed to violence through film, television, and gaming - but we know that violence, particularly for its own sake, is wrong. If we treat this as an absolute, however, the ways in which Andy can help Casey are limited. Does Andy approach Bobby and offer to be a mediator in this dispute, which like as not could start a fight? Or does Andy move on, inform the police, and leave Casey figuratively twisting in the wind? Further, if Andy does intervene, that intervention would commit them to see the end of that conflict, however it develops. Were Bobby to round on Andy and attack, Andy would be forced to defend against that attack - or does the absolute wrongness of violence mean that Andy should simply take what is coming?

While we're mulling over those particular waters, let's take an ethics question that should be familiar to ever business student.

Meet Darian. Darian is Andy, except that Darian was born in a different part of the world - one of the many countries where it is customary to give a gift of some kind before concluding a deal, often as soon as the first negotiating session. In the west, many would see such a practice as a discreet form of bribery, a practice that we all agree is wrong. In Darian's homeland, however, the absence of such a gift is a gross insult. The gift serves to acknowledge that the recipient has something the giver wants, and that the exchange is intended to be genial and mutually productive.

Knowing this, should Andy accept the gift, and, moreover, should he reciprocate as is customary?

Absolute morality would be very useful, if we all could agree on the rules. Killing is absolutely wrong, but it is a wrong I would hope many would commit if their families themselves were threatened with death. Now, where Wrath is almost certainly my primary sin, I think most of my readers would agree.

Tarot, Horoscopes, and Meditation (Eek!)

 You're all about to watch a train wreck, because I'm about to talk about three relatively new-age concepts on a blog that got its start talking about catholicism, specifically my conversion to it, and much of its initial readership from a fundamentalist catholic forum. If any of the original readers are still clinging on to the hope I might go back to my older style of writing I would have to apologize and hope that they can find some degree of understanding in the idea that the same open mind to things supernatural that brought me into their religion also means that all other ideas and influences get equal time.

This is going to sound like a weird position to take given the growing number of science articles I've written for the blog and the usual position of skepticism I take in day to day life. Of course fairies, nixies, spirits, ghosts, goblins, and aliens don't actually exist. Ah, but I can't make that statement declaritive. I can only say "absent any evidence of the aforementioned, I choose not to believe in them".

When I was in late middle school and early high school I spent quite a bit of time studying what people commonly call the occult but what would more accurately be known as a small collection of non-Christian cultural tropes and associated "magic". Specifically, I saved up my allowance and bought myself a shiny new Ryder-Waite Tarot Deck. I remember that the cards came with a book that taught you how to do a few different spreads, and the symbolism of each card - more importantly, though, it contained two injunctions:

1. When studying the symbols on the card, if a meaning springs readily to mind, consider that its primary, and;
2. Never provide readings for others except those with whom you are very familiar.

Now, the second injunction I took simply as a cultural norm like the old tradition that one does not sell their sourdough starter, Amish bread recipe, or kombucha culture. Clearly lots of mystics with more experience than I at reading the Tarot made a good living off of doing it, and no great ill had befallen them. I do however notice that such readings are often considered wildly innacurate (when honest) or demonstrative of cold-reading (when dishonest), where as readings I preformed just for myself actually tended to have a seed of truth.

Looking back on it now I realize exactly what had happened. For one thing, I rarely asked questions about the future of myself because I don't believe the future is fixed - once again, see Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle. I asked questions about events in my past, people in my life, and facets of my nature, and I found out less than you would think (being fifteen tends to make you bad at introspection). Then, by and large I met Kat and after a while having a good companion to talk to and play with ended most of my interest in the occult for now. I don't have that tarot deck any more.

What I'm realizing now though is that the cards were a tool, and one I considered useful at the time, in the same way that I considered lectio divina useful for a time until I suddenly became bad at it again. While the cards drawn are more than somewhat influenced by chance, the mind's interpretation of those cards is done through a lens of the concern of the moment. The symbolic meaning, whether remembered (I no longer require the book) or referenced, speaks through and to those concerns and answers are only found after careful consideration. The tarot is a deck of cue-cards, and a helpful one at that, used for finding answers to the question of the day.

Where it becomes dangerous, and it rarely is, is when it becomes subject to absolute faith in inerrant truth of its results. I met a person who was like that, albeit with futhark runes. It was just as grating as faith in inerrant predictive power of the book of Revelation.

Now, I also mentioned horoscopes in the above, and it is well and good that I did, because they are another matter altogether. For one thing, I don't read broad-cast horoscopes of the sort found on facebook or in the local papers, which are cast for everyone born in every year under the dates of the same astrological sign. For one thing, I was born very close to the start of the "season" for my sign, and when you draw up a proper, charted horoscope, the line between the sign I've always claimed to be and the sign before it are fuzzy, which some would say is a nod to my dual nature and I simply say is an interesting artefact of the horoscope system with regard to the time and location of my birth. I don't have any real belief in the power of horoscopes - I'm just exactly anal enough to enjoy making and analyzing the charts. I've used them before as props for characters in role-plays. It is especially worth noting that I do not behave as a cancer should, but that same recognition is fuelled by the fact that most people exhibit the personality traits of most of the horoscopes in different amounts. For me, the construction of these charts by hand is an interesting intellectual exercise and one I enjoy doing a few times a year. It's not a science and it's certainly not a predictive tool. It's a fun little way to create a unique representation of yourself without a camera.

Meditation, on the other hand, is a very real and useful practice. While I doubt very much I'm about to become an old Zen master, acquire the Buddha nature, or begin doing supernatural feats, careful reflective meditation is an important part of keeping myself sane, with or without medication. We have to remember that meditation is thinking. Carefully unpacking and examining one issue at a time is a way to stop our multi-tasking brains and focus our full intellect on a single question, premise, or truth. I don't drink watered-down Oolong while sitting in full lotus on a cushion in the middle of my room with flute music in the background and incense everywhere. For one thing, my fire inspector landlord would probably have a fit if I put myself in a position to fall asleep with things burning all around me. Careful reflection, aided by whatever means we like, is itself a form of meditation. While often Buddhist monks are contemplating the Buddha nature, I'm usually trying to think about a new angle from which to bind my angry, impulsive, or irrational states, or trying to suss my way through a problem. And, to be fair, I'm usually doing it with a steaming hot cup of Dan Cong in my lap.

The trappings of mysticism we surround ourselves with are, by and large, tools. It's why I never believed in the efficacy of prayer quite as strongly as most. If it was something entirely out of my hands, it was indeed very theraputic to leave it up to God - it lead, however, to a state of thanking him if it worked and blaming myself if it didn't, which wasn't healthy either. Instead, if it IS something I myself have domain over, I myself take ownership of it. Budget's getting tighter? No problem, I can cut stuff yet. Low traffic at work? No problem, nothing anybody can do about that.

I honestly thought I still had my tarot deck somewhere, but I guess I don't. Just as well, I suppose. I do occasionally cast the Futhark to the same end on scraps of paper. Not nearly as fun, but, as a deck of cue-cards, it doesn't work that badly. Reflection is a helpful thing, however we choose to do it.

Living Well Without Riches

I'm sure someone is going to come along and tell me I don't get to talk, because I've always had a roof over my head, running water, and food (though the week of peanut butter sandwiches and whatever beverages I made at work wasn't very good). With that in mind I'm going to preface this article with a few caveats, namely: Crocker's Law and the Wellbourn Protocol - you can maximize information content in messages without having to worry about hurting my feelings, and all correspondence is ultimately bloggable unless requested otherwise. With these new rules in mind, let's play our game.

An anonymous commenter on the Curiosity landing post invoked, a couple of times now, the idea that living well and living richly are ultimately connected. While my first instinct in such a case is actually to keep the explanation bound to the comment thread, this is one of those topics that might be too large for the relatively narrow confines of the comment section feed.

I believe there is a difference between living well and living richly, and I believe a lot of it boils down to attitude. Consider two people, Alex and Beverly. Alex makes $45,000 a year working as a teaching assistant for persons with disabilities. Beverly is a student working her way through college as a retail clerk, with an annual net of about $22,000, between their RESP and wages.

On the face of it, we could make the argument that, because Alex is making more than twice as much per year as Beverly, Alex has the greater potential to live well. This may certainly be the case, as $45,000 can certainly feed, clothe, shelter, and accommodate better than $22,000 when spent wisely. Now though, let's add a few character traits into the mix.

Alex knows they makes a reasonable amount at $45k a year, and they want to live like it. After years of college, they're tired of living like a student and want to make it clear to their peers that they are living the "good life" now. Alex buys a brand new, higher end car and has a car payment. It's their first car, so now they also have to pay insurance and gas, which they never had to pay for before. Alex buys the very best phone their wireless provider carries, with the most capable data, text, and voice packages. They move out of their old studio apartment and into a two-bedroom, converting the second room into an office by the way they furnish it. We've now established a person who establishes their feeling of wealth on a foundation of possessions. Alex feels wealthy because it is outwardly visible to others that they are. However, they frequently eat poorly around rent day because it is hard to pay all these bills when they are due without it, or perhaps let small amounts slip into arrears to be covered by the second cheque of the month.

Now let's look at Beverly. Beverly knows they are a student, and doesn't want to get pegged with the "students live poorly" stereotype. They grew up, maybe, in a large or a poor household, but in either event, they know how to stretch a dollar somewhat. The college is a little off the beaten path, let's say, so Beverly still has a used car, but it's paid for outright and has been since they bought it with their summer working money in high school. It's insured, obviously, but Beverly only uses it for school and groceries, mostly, so the gas is a lot cheaper. Beverly's phone is a few years old, but it still works fairly well as both a phone and an SMS device, so they opt to keep using it and keep it on a simple plan that offers just enough minutes and messages to suit their needs. Beverly's a social individual so they find another, clean individual named Casey to share an apartment with, splitting rent and utility costs down the middle. Beverly never eats at the school cafeteria and always brings a box lunch. By saving in all these areas, Beverly makes sure that they always have food in the fridge, and they can even afford, every few weekends or so, to get a case of beer or a bottle of vodka to party with her class mates. Beverly establishes their feeling of wealth on a foundation of needs; they feel wealthy because it is visible to them that all of their basic needs are accounted for and they are reasonably comfortable in doing so.

There is a nobility in purpose in poverty. Granted, not having is worse than having. That is why the word poverty has such negative connotations in the modern parlance. When we look, however, at the monastic traditions of every culture, in every religion, we see a common trend of poverty being lauded.  The people I know with the least possessions are also the people I know with the greatest character. Those who can be satisfied by Compliments-branded laundry soap, Honda Civics, the yellow boxes are those who seem to be able to weather any storm. Similarly, those I know who "live well", who party every night, dine out every night, and drive fancy cars, can be ruined by the smallest outset. A man I know purports to own a car worth more than my entire net holdings and has been spending the last week eating nothing but instant ramen noodles because there was a hiccup and he can't swing the money. Someone else I know goes to parties every weekend, often in other provinces, and is getting tense because they're finally out of "fake money" on their credit card.

I'm not saying I have it all figured out, either - I did just admit to a week of peanut-butter sandwiches. But I have it figured to the point that I know that I CAN get by. Because frankly, sometimes you do need a diet of noodles and crushed legumes to do it. I also know that all states are temporary and so is this one. I don't feel poor, because I'm not. All my basic needs are accounted for. Sure, I can't party hardy or eat at nice restaurants every night, but I'm eating better than you are right now!

Okay, that's vindictive. But by now, I'm sure you all take my point.

"Faith is the True Shibboleth" - A Declaration Long in Coming

"For we account a man to be justified by faith, without the works of the law."
Romans 3:28 (Douay-Rheims Translation)


As a sidebar parenthetical to my point, I'd like to say how annoying it is that there are so many versions of the bible. I have two physical copies published no more than fourty years apart with strong variations between them, never mind the variety I have available to me online.


Seasons shift, I earn time for my brain to be idle, and my mind turns again to religion. It's one of those subjects that are easy to write about, but hard to talk about. Easy to expound, but hard to feel right. We concern ourselves with this dictate, that maxim, those commandments. We look at each other and we see only the lines of difference. Jesus or Mohammed? God, Allah, or Yaweh? Or Vishnu?


In the global scale, these questions are not important. They are personal questions alone. They have to be, because they are not empirical. As much as I would love to come down with absolute certainty, I cannot. I can only come up with the things that are true where I am sitting? If I had found religion living in Yemen, would I be a muslim? What of the Tao te Ching? 

I not, nor will I likely ever be, a great scholar of Christendom. It seems unlikely today that I will ever be called a modern-day doctor of the Church. The only bible verses I know are my favourite platitudes and even then I must look up the chapter and verse. I can't recite the apostles from memory and I really only know about eight of the ten commandments without having to look them up, though I'm sure if I dug deep I could remember them all.

Christianity isn't about the recitation of facts. It's not about adherence, blindly, to laws and statutes. That's why we have discernment. It's why people make decisions for themselves and why we never felt the need, in days more Christian, to proscribe all sins as criminal laws. Christianity is about following Christ. It's about becoming more Christ-like. Being a better person, in a way. Christ spoke broadly of the things that mattered most in the grand scheme. The Golden Rule, Charity, those sorts of things. All the rest is Theology.

It's why I don't subscribe to labels. In my previous post I used the phrase Heisenberg Christian to refer to myself, as a reference to the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principal which has nothing at all to do with spirituality. Most of you know I was baptised and confirmed as Catholic late last year. You've all read about my favourite chaplets and what-not. In many ways I do still identify as Catholic. When the mood strikes me, I attend Mass. I believe in intercessory prayer. I say the Rosary, which a lot of protestant churches hold to be a non-Christian thing to do. But, on the rare occasions it comes up, I don't identify as Catholic. I leave it at Christian.

I've read the bible. Cover to cover, pretty close to twice now, in two different translations. And I've learned a lot. One thing I didn't need to read it to learn is that it's hard to get two people to agree on the majority of what it says and impossible to get two people to agree on all of it. The translation issue doesn't help, but it's more than that. The holy spirit works in us in its own way, and our brains are just wired different. Sometimes we interpret things differently. Prioritize things differently. Idealize things differently. I've mentioned before that I don't believe denominational Christianity is truth.

The separation between Catholic, Orthodox, and Protestant Christianity creates friction where it did not exist before. It simplifies conversation to the point of blunting it. The majority of Catholic women use birth control. The majority of baptists are not baptised. We all sit back in our comfortable computer chairs and argue with each other, drinking expensive imported beverages, about who is wrong, each condemning the other with perfect conviction and absolute assurance. Both right, which means both are wrong.

I leave it at Christian. I use the word Catholic in its original sense of universality. I seriously consider the writings of the Magisterium and the Papacy alongside the works of the great unions of protestant Christianity. I read the Catechism and form my own conclusions. If the Church is wrong, I say so. If I am wrong, I wait to be shown so.

I leave it at Christian. To do otherwise is not wholly honest. 

Auditing Assisted Suicide

Even though this originally came up a few weeks ago when the Supreme Court of British Columbia ruled that  the status-quo prohibition of Physician-Assisted Suicide was in violation of the Constitution Act (in not one but two sections of the Charter of Rights and Freedoms). Unfortunately for you, perhaps, I chose to stay out of the matter. The date that the ruling was handed down was surprisingly close to my recent birthday, the stress of work was mounting, and wading into a topic as controversial here as abortion is in the United States wasn't high on my priority list. Fortunately, now that I'm back up to my fighting weight, I've been given a second shot because the Vancouver Sun is now reporting that Ottawa will appeal the ruling to the Supreme Court of Canada.

Better part of half a decade ago, now, I took my first formal course in Canadian Law, through my high school. The teacher was lively, and often deliberately induced class debate, particularly on issues related to the Charter specifically or to the Constitution in general. One of those issues was assisted suicide, specifically the case of Sue Rodriquez, pictured left, who won a battle in her lifetime to earn the right (it would seem temporarily) to end her life with the help of her doctor.

Now, the exact specifics of her case elude me at the moment, but I remember arguing rather vociferously that she should be allowed to do so. I used s. 7 as the cornerstone of my argument, which reads:

7. Everyone has the right to life, liberty and security of the person and the right not to be deprived thereof except in accordance with the principles of fundamental justice.

As I recall, my argument chiefly revolved around the idea of life and liberty. I argued that the only way you can have a right to do something was also to have the right to refuse it, otherwise your "right" was more of a mandate and in that case the Charter wasn't as useful a document as one would hope.

Times have changed a bit since then, however. For one thing, I no longer feel the need to come down on the liberal side of every issue on-spec. I've also learned to separate my issues and prioritize them.  In much the same way as governments in a federal system divide powers along federal, provincial, and municipal lines, I divide my opinions on law and morality. They aren't the same, but for wishing making it so. As I've written before, what is just is not always legal, what is legal is not always moral, and morality, no matter how objective we insist on it being, is subjective, and you need look no further than any argument on any moral point ever to see that.

The Catholic Church teaches that assisted suicide (what it refers to erroneously as Euthenasia in the Catechism) is morally unacceptable on the basis of  an equation to murder that is not-well cited, and before you try to point out that it DOES have some form of scriptural support, that citation simply isn't made available in the supposedly "complete and updated" version of the catechism I was given by my sponsor when I was baptised late last year.

Now, I could wrap myself up in my usual arguments: as a Heisenburg Christian (that is to say, uncategorised), I don't necessarily consider the Catechism to be binding to everyone. I could also give the "assisted suicide =/= murder" speech, on the basis of consent. I'm getting quite good at those arguments. The problem is, I can't put real conviction behind either argument. Believe it or not, at the age of 22, I don't have a solid opinion on every subject in every field any more. I miss and regret the teenage years of absolute certitude because I miss the feeling that I know everything, a feeling which went out the window at the moment I realized I didn't.

Now, am I saying assisted suicide is therefore moral? No - I just finished saying I don't have a coherent position on that particular subject. The deeper question is whether or not a ban on purely moral grounds is constitutional. As I've mentioned in previous posts on abortion, I don't believe that my morality should be allowed to set public policy guidelines. Some morality requires going above-and-beyond the call of the law - ask anyone who keeps kosher or halal, chooses to be a vegan, or chooses to dress or act in a certain way on the basis of their religious beliefs. If this was a question of politics, there would be some merit to putting my shoulder behind a party that would respect my moral views on the matter.

This isn't a question of politics, either, but the constitution. There's nothing to do now but pray, I suppose, for the mental clarity and wisdom of the Justices of the SCC. Whether you're for or against assisted suicide, I'm sure you agree that these are attributes the ultimate legal authority in this country would need in spades.

Theology Thursday: Of Parables and Koans

I think of all the new "daily features" topics, this one will be the hardest to gain ground on. I should also take a moment to say in advance what else we have going on throughout the week; "Far Out" Friday (mind-breaking physics of the enlightening variety), Spirituality Saturdays (If Science gets a double-feature, so does faith), and Sizzling Sundays.


This week on sizzling Sunday, I'm going to be doing something inauspicious and skipping it. You see, my birthday is Monday, so on sunday we're going to a steakhouse in the next town over to celebrate. We're going to skip methodological monday to do the sunday feature then, and I'm going to make an old favourite: a real pork Schnitzel.


On the topic at hand, however, I have something less bubbly to say, and it wanders into the usual realm of the hippy-dippy, and I ask it in the form of a question, largely directed at Cam and Paul:

Is there any reason why the koans used by zen instructors to teach their students the proper frame of mind cannot be studied alongside the biblical parables? And, having said that, is there anything to be said about even laymen being able to learn from the Rule of St. Benedict?

The Pulse of Tea

I've always been a believer that there's a natural rhythm to everything. Heisenburg's Uncertainty might add that lovely dose of randomness we call free will, but on the macroscopic scale, life moves in waves. Everywhere I go has a tide. A natural ebb and flow, resulting from everything from the pattern of traffic lights in the surrounding area, the socio-dynamic forcing of the weather outside, and the cultural make-up of the people around me. Being able to feel that push and pull is a boon when working in that environment. For one thing, it makes the temperament easier to control.

This seems to be doubly true in sales, and I'm not entirely sure why. A salesperson is at his or her best when he can feel the pulse of his shop, knows the personality of his product, and understands what the customer needs (and that's not always what they came into the shop looking for). The retail industry spends a lot of time calculating these things. It's the modern version of Feng Shui, and while I understand it with a sometimes-bitter cynicism, I realize that it works.

My problem is that I get caught up in the moment. The vagaries of the politics between the property managers and the retailers. The latest craze relevant to my store (pu-erh teas, thanks to Dr. Oz) and the shortages that follow when corporate can't predict (or the industry can't supply for) these crazes. In a month, few will still be drinking pu-erh, mind you. That's not the point. It's the shortages, the lack of this tea or that tin, and the conflict between following the instructions of my bosses and the instructions of those who can tell my bosses to close shop.

But if you get a moment, step outside the shifting tide, and just take a moment to watch it flow, suddenly it all makes sense. You find the pulse again, know your place within it, and relax.

---

I want to share with you a particular tea that I've drank a lot of lately, and the class of tea to which it belongs. You've already heard me talk a little about oolong teas (sometimes wulong), which are fantastically mild little things that are great for your skin, teeth, hair, and metabolism, and are traditionally used in the practice of meditation (because their subtle tea gives you something to deconstruct, I suppose).

There is, however, a subclass of wulong which are smoked, and these are called the Dan Congs. These are smoked, as they are dried, and this adds both a certain level of boldness and extra layers of flavour to take the time to unwrap. Lately, I've been drinking the Phoenix Mountain Dan Cong at work (unfortunately, I don't have any at home). It is marvellously complex, getting moreso with age. The three minute steep time gives me time to breathe.

I could go on for ages about this particular tea. It comes from trees that are centuries old. Dan Congs from the Phoenix Mountain range in Yunnan were imperial tribute during the Song Dynasty. Teas which once graced the lips only of the Song Emperors and their favourites are now mine to dissassemble. Fantastic.

Open Questions for Christians of Any Stripe

Reconciling  faith with what one believes personally can be a challenge if one is new to faith. For one thing, my mind is ill-conditioned to accept blindly things which can be given no evidence beyond a reasoned argument. Indeed, while I have come to accept room for divinity in my world view, and even (with suspension of various usual requirements) accepted that, in want of historical accuracy, the bible has allegorical-spiritual accuracy, I still have problems with various things taught in Christian churches and households of most any denomination. I always seek to understand that which I do not rather than dismiss it as fallacious or flawed. This is a founding tenant of science and to be unscientific in the age of the atom, instantaneous global telecommunication, and orbital flight.

In the spirit of understanding, and of dispelling the idea of denominational validity, I leave these questions as open ones for Christians of any stripe, be they orthodox or heterodox, catholic or protestant, layman or cleric. Just as one does not need to be a physicist to understand the basics of physics, one should not need to be a theologian to study the basics of theology. While I rarely do this, and indeed abhor the practice of chain-letters, I ask that those who see this post and answer it at least consider anyone they know who might wish to weigh in.

1. Why do we obey only certain injunctions from the Old Testament, particularly regarding homosexuality?


The most-used verse to defend views against homosexuality comes from Leviticus, written to the levites, which is the source in large part of the old Jewish laws. A common counterpoint used to disagree with this injunction has always been to ask the person holding the believe whether or not they carry out any other act thus forbidden, most commonly the eating of shellfish.

The appropriate response, as I understand it, is that Christ has created a new covenant with man (through his salvation of mankind) and that the old laws no longer apply to the gentiles. Indeed, as Christians, one could argue we have been set free of them. In all four gospels, I cannot find one word spoken through Christ which suggests that homosexuality remains among the list of offences counted as sins. Indeed, such an injunction almost seems to violate the Golden Rule.

Why did Saint Paul, in his letter to the Corinthians, then decide to keep this specific injunction? Remember that paul was not given the keys to the kingdom, nor is he drawing from any evident word of Christ. Was this a personal preference? Bearing that possibility in mind, the above question practically begs an answer.

2. How do we justify our artificial separation?
I hear a lot of talk among Catholics about apostolic succession; and indeed it was mainly that concept that drew me to the church above all others. The idea that a line could form, unbroken, through the consecration of priests right up on through the ages and back to the apostles, if certainly a powerful sign. However, it has failed to quell a larger problem that I am only just coming to understand.

Christ essentially declared that there should be one church. Now, various denominations will make claims to being the only true church and Roman Catholicism is certainly very good at that. However, the word catholic is usually interpreted as "universal". Indeed, Christ did not seem to intend a universal authority but merely that "where one or two gather in My name, so am I there among them". With this in mind it is difficult to view the seperation of the denominations as anything other than artificial seperations, formed in the midst of disputes, and counter to the spirit of Christian Unity. This is an issue of particular importance, all things considered. Why is it only now, in the age long past that of the Enlightenment, that the churches are only just starting to try and rectify this, and why are the protestant churches being largely ignored in ecumenalism, and only the Catholics and the Orthodox trying to re-united.

I don't want to sound overly new-age, but it seems to me that this should be done in full rather than as a half-measure.

3. How do we justify a lack of biblical literalism?


This actually seems to be the easiest for me. I am willing to accept that a work can be divinely inspired and still errant. After all, if God had gifted ancient man with the knowledge of the true topography of the universe, he might have caused quite a few to go (or at least seem) mad. We deal now routinely with numbers for which the ancient world had no concept. With distances thought impossible. With continents unrealized. A round earth never would have occurred to Ezekiel, and I seriously doubt that if you asked the authors of Genesis to count from one to a million, never mind a billion, or to somehow understand the concept of natural selection, they would actually come to terms with it.

I am willing to accept allegorical and metephorical interpretations. After all, Christ did so love his parables, and the knowledge which must be sought through difficulty is the easiest to retain (though hardest, obviously, to obtain).

Still, there are denominations, and even camps in Catholicism, that would call me a heretic for holding the view that the bible could possibly be wrong in any way. Well, to be fair, these days they'd say I wasn't really Christian, but they mean heretic. Can a defence be made, on biblical grounds alone, for the genesis account quite simply being, well, wrong?

4. Why do many denominations insist on political homogeneity?
Many denominations seem to insist that you "ain't right if you ain't Right-wing", to put words into various mouths. Indeed, I seem to be a rarity among both North American Christians and converts from atheism to Christianity in being that I'm a centrist - or, perhaps more accurately, socially left and economically right.


While I don't expect each and every one of you do be a right-wing figure, nor do I encourage it, or discourage it, I am curious. I can accept a certain amount of vote-your-morals. After all, if they really are your morals, you should be willing to stand up to them.


What I don't get is churches (and this is largely true among southern US catholics and protestants across that country) insisting on intervening on non-moralistic matters in politics - most notably in the global warming "debate", which isn't so much debate as one side providing scientific evidence and the other side plugging their ears. What authority are they on non-moralistic matters? Taking, as issues, subjects like nuclear disarmament, stem cell research, and abortion are all well and understandable. Meddling in economics and earth sciences, or calling for military expansion, are not.

Indeed, I've actually heard pastors decry socialism from the pulpit, though I thank some Grace of God that mine has never done such a thing. As you might have read before, I find it difficult to reconcile the idea that a proper Christian could be anti-socialist.

At any rate, these four questions ought to suit us for now. I thank in advance everyone that responds, though I'll likely re-respond, knowing me.

Draw Muhammed Day

Those who know me by now realize that I have a tendency to follow Dr. Philip Mason's video blogs (thunderf00t and beautyintheuniverse on YouTube - both excellent channels deserving attention), and I generally tend to agree with his social and scientific arguments, even if I don't always grant his premise. However, there's one initiative he's supporting that I just categorically disagree with: the second (or is it third?) annual Draw Muhammed Day.

Retrospeculation

Retrospeculation is most certainly not a word, but you're going to have to bear with me until I find a better portmanteau of "retro-" (meaning backward-looking) and introspection.

I was thinking about the various reasons I started looking into Catholicism specifically a few years ago, and I noticed a pattern I wanted to share. Throughout my life, I have been rather fascinated with monastic practice; the idea that a life could be devoted to the pursuit of Spiritual Outcome X at the expense of all other experiences. Monasticism is a surprisingly common practice and the goals are commonly the same (if the motivations aren't somewhat different). Whether we're talking Christian or Buddhist, a monk is usually striving toward serenity, wisdom, compassion, and virtue (the different religions tend to value different virtues, mind you). Lives of poverty are often encouraged. All in all, the idea is to live one's Faith more directly.

I wonder though if monasticism genuinely must be cloistered. After all, if Buddhist monks, Carthusians, and Benedictines all wall themselves up, maybe there's something to the idea of running away from the world. I wondered if there wasn't a happy medium, and I found it, in a way, in the Franciscan order.

Well, not really, but it's the closest anyone's come to that balance yet. Mostly, I just envy monks their discipline. It's something I lack, to be frank, and I never really figured out why. I seemed to have it, for a little while. I wonder what changed.

A Lesson from Augustino

LBL.gov

This is a familiar map to many people, and one we've shown here before. It's produced from measurements of the Cosmic Microwave Background Radiation, the residual energy from the Big Bang event in the modern cosmological model. From such measurements we were able to calculate the age of the universe, and also, in many ways, to map it.

I bring it back because, as ever, it fascinates me. I consider cosmology to be the pinnacle of the sciences, answering the most fundamental questions which can still have empirical answers. No new development has come about in it. I wanted to talk about something totally unrelated, as a matter of fact.

Well, perhaps not totally unrelated. Most of you know that I underwent RCIA and became a Roman Catholic in the Latin Rite late last year, and a lot of you probably know my track record with this sort of thing by now. I'm irreverent and hopelessly liberal, one of those antireactionary "live-and-let-live" liberals who can't reasonably make an argument in favour of any law with a primarily religious motivation, and who uses some of the very best in mental gymnastics to weasel my way out of a few moral sticking points I just can't bring myself to accept. These mental gymnastics are perhaps endemic of other problems, but who am I to say.

I like to think I'm pretty good at studying religion and philosophy. The problem is that I'm not very good at retaining anything. I mean sure, I pick up facts and object-lessons and can explain them as reasonably as can be expected of someone with no formal training, but they don't terribly alter my behaviour. Understanding philosophical arguments in favour of eugenics is unlikely to make me a eugenicist (though it is very useful in combating eugenicists).

At the root of it all is a sort of mental or behavioural inertia, which I've probably talked about before. Like many people of all ages, I am a creature of hard-worn habits, habits that neither like to be broken nor readily altered. In many cases, these habits are as frequently about not doing something as they are about doing something. Some are genuinely harmful, like an inclination to sleep past my alarm. Others are actually quietly helpful, like my inclination to write everything down. Some habits are neither, particularly, like favouring button-down shirts and sweaters over t-shirts.

In any event, many of these habits are habits I'd like to change. In lots of cases, I do change habits, for very good reasons. But I need that reason, and somehow, somewhere in the road, I'm lacking that reason in a lot of places I shouldn't be.

Take, for example, a habit I developed since the winter cold set in, of missing mass. Sure, I made it to mass on Easter Sunday. But I've missed the two Sundays after that, for reasons that are emblematic of my usual mental gymnastics. A big part of it is that I'm not so sure that the Catholic Church has the monopoly on truth. When it comes to spirituality, I've always been the "do it yourself" type, which has made working through the parables a lot more rewarding when you finally "get it" in a puff of logic. Lectio Divina is the practice.

Now, I'm not saying that there's no truth in Catholicism, either. The Vatican is making fantastic strides in attempting to erase the schismatic past of the Church and bring Christianity back into (relative) unity, which is what the bible makes pretty clear that Christ intended all along. I feel that ultimately it is "more good" to strive to be a good Christian than to be a good Catholic. I'm certainly thankful for having read through much of the Catechism line-by-line and examined its sources. In more cases than otherwise, I agree with it, especially on theological grounds and the nature of genuine spiritual events, such as the transubstantiation (though my brain hurts a little when I comprehend that a thing can change from one thing to another without an empirical marker), the nature of the sacraments, the value of virtue, and the generally-corrupting power of sin. I can even swing believing in the full and literal ressurection of the body at the end of time, though I have difficulty at the moment picking out biblical support for it.

A somewhat dated picture, last summer or just before, of my
darling and I overlooking the river. Happy 4/22, Love.

It's when we start getting close to issues of liberties that I begin to disagree. Unlike the Catholic line, I actually support birth control. While we certainly have a planet capable of sustaining much higher populations than this one, we lack the infrastructure, and if condoms can stem the tide of STIs and help reduce the rate of otherwise unwanted pregancies, I am all for that. Now, I know, the obvious counter-argument is that the marital act is intended to be procreative rather than recreational. and that relying on Artificial Birth Control is demonstrating a "closedness to", whereupon one may insert Life, Creation, the Will of God, or whatever other moniker you want to attach to the logical consequence of the sexual act. Certainly I agree that pregnancy follows sex as alcohol follows vegetable fermentation. But psychology studies from around the world generally come to the consensus that an absolute avoidance of the act is unhealthy in relationships.  Not that it's remotely all of what a relationship should be... but it is a part.

As I said before, I have a big problem with being asked to restrict liberties on purely religious grounds. I learned pretty early on not to dive head-first into anything, no matter how much you trust God. Even if you think he's calling you to something, you have to discern a while before you're really sure that he's calling you to do what you think. For example, I have the utmost respect for monks, and even briefly toyed with the idea of becoming a Benedictine. But it would be giving up entirely too much, and a man of my sincerity would do more harm than good in such a brotherhood. I still admire the monks and their disciplines, but I'm no monk myself and I probably never will be. I've had as clear a sign as any man will ever get that I'm called to marriage, and I think that it's fairly clear what His plans are in that regard. Relationships like ours don't last these six years without being very, very serious.

And all that having been said, I'm very open to the idea of being more devout. There's a part of me who really wants to be that guy. I've tried all sorts of formulaic devotions and felt good with a number of them, but I've never really formed the habit. Considering the money I've wrapped up in some of them, I wish I really could. Thing is, I always feel just a tiny bit off balance when I actually put my faith into practice. There's a feeling of having an audience, even if I have the house to myself, much like how I feel when I'm trying to do my work with a manager in the room.

I guess we can chalk that one up to fear of God, then. Cheers to those of you who recognize the titular reference.

It's Finally Here!

After much fussing around with file-converting, middle-man applications, and narrating with both a bad speaking voice and a bad microphone, I've finally caved. The Introduction to Rationality presentation is not being shown on YouTube, but on a power-point sharing website called SlideShare. I'm a little disappointed because it did not preserve my sound or animation, but it serves the purpose nicely.

IR I - Introduction to Rationality

View more presentations from AuditorGentleman.

If you have any comments, questions, or catch a mistake I made, please let me know in the blog comments.

Scientology? Scifientology, maybe.

So, the people who hang out around me and try to prod me into a rant have been asking about Scientology, and I wasn't going to come out and say a word, until new hit the wire today that Narcanon Trois-Rivieres rejected a withdrawal patient outright, charging his mother $10,000 for 1 week's stay before throwing him on a bus bound for Toronto.

I don't actually have a problem with Scientology's theology, excepting of course that it's hard to take anything written by a writer of speculative fiction as divine revelation, especially when it's of the same genre as his previous titles. My main problem is with the behaviour of Scientologists and the way that the "Church" treats its own. When you start copyrighting and classifying religious material, it's your own fault if you get called cult-like... just ask Freemasons everywhere.

No, my main problem with Scientology is the way individual Scientologists behave on the whole. The ones who respond to being asked to answer questions about their faith on camera with a string of serious but fruitless accusations, the futility of which cheapens the severity of the crimes purported, and does nothing but convince the rest of us that you're indoctrinated beyond the point of holding sensible discourse.

 

On the whole, it's no way to behave... and precisely the problem I have with Westboro Baptist Church. Never mind their oppressive practices, never mind their wealth-based "enlightenment" portfolio... it's being rude.

By the way, the woman in Toronto is getting her money back. Son's homeless and still hasn't received treatment.

Good Friday, and Where I Am.

Today was good for a Friday.

Okay, all joking aside, it actually was a pretty good day. I got to see Kitten, visit with her mother, and eat like a king, for which I am much obliged. I also attended a service for the holiday at their church, a respectable baptist outfit with quite the reputation for their music. All in all, a very enjoyable day, and one that bears repeating.

I don't normally put much thought into Holy Week, largely because, until recently, I wasn't up to speed on it. But today got me thinking about the meaning of the whole thing, which the most of you are familiar with by now, and not being properly equipped for apologetics, I'm going to skip to the latter part of my little thought process, which brings me, as it always does, to the idea of Christian Identity... specifically, mine.

I've never liked to feel confined, and I like labels even less. It's easy enough to answer when a person asks me what religion I am by saying "Christian", and most of the time that answer satisfies. But I get the odd person, usually an overly nosey denizen of the web, for whom that answer is not enough. They want to know a denomination.

I don't like denominations. For one thing, they sort of defeat the point of Christianity. For another, there's far more to unite the disparate Churches than divide them. Throwing a denomination on is sort of like throwing on a political party. I don't like the designation. It invites being painted with a broad brush, and marginalizes the ability to take contrarian positions.

I am, by all rights, a Catholic, and I've learned to recognize that it wasn't exactly a political choice - the Magisterial and I have as many points of contention as agreement when it comes to matters of the mundane world, which is probably a normal post-adolescent reaction to authority, more than anything else. The decision was made on other grounds: apostolic succession, mostly.

I remain a Catholic forever, baptised and confirmed as I am, even while lapsed. But I prefer not to identify. The differing churches do not get along, and I live largely in the middle of that situation. For a while, this has manifested as a sort of refusal to engage in anything that might be considered a Catholic practice.

But then I swung a little closer to the middle of the pendulum, as I usually do. I'm a catholic because I believe in a great majority of moral teachings. Where we differ (largely on the dignity of the person, and on ABC) is not enough to outweigh where we agree. In time, I might even come to change my mind about those, thought I doubt it.

Regardless of whatever church or religion you follow, your spirituality is a personal journey. That's why single life, married life, and religious life are all perfectly valid. When I'm meeting people, I don't pidgeonhole them in by their sexual characteristics or political views. First thing I look for is a mind at work. Then a good person.

I've railed against this before, but the quote is worth repeating. Catholic means universal. United. We are one body in Christ. The divisions between denominations are entirely artificial.

Leap Of Faith

This article was originally going to have the much more arrogant title of "You're both wrong, so shut up", and a more cranky tone, but then I drank some orange juice and tried to remember I'm past that now. -Z


Someone recently asked me if the Introduction on Rationality series and my departure from CAF were related, and I bluntly replied yes, which was a mistake. That same person, who I've known for a while, now, asked me if I was back to being "just another agnostic atheist", to which I replied with a qualified no. When he asked me what I was, I rather bluntly replied that I don't like labels, and so I moved on, putting that question out of mind.

Divining Reality

Full Disclosure: This idea is a train-of-thought spinoff from Cam's recent entry over at her blog (article link), which addresses the difference between belief and reality, or, perhaps more accurately, outward and inward truth. It isn't intended as a response, but an application of the same basic argument to a different topic. Think of it as a non-rigorous thought experiment. The entry is excellent.

More often than you would think, I have heard people make absolute statements about a reality, as if saying something is real (or true), or unreal (or false), is enough to make it so... what I like to think of as the "Abra Kadabra" fallacy. (From the kabbalistic phrase "I create as I speak".) It most frequently takes as a basis one source or another, and in the circles I run in, it's either "the bible" or "science" standing in as the source, with appropriate variations (making it an Appeal to Authority).

The problem with this statement is that there are two realities: the natural and the supernatural. Some of us prefer not to dabble in matters supernatural, for very good reasons that I'm not going to pound the table over right now. And while we can make definitive statements about natural realities through empirical study (which is what science is for), we cannot make definitive statements about the supernatural. So we can make the argument, for example, that the universe is 13.5 Billion years old (give or take a reasonably small margin of error), but we can't make the argument whether God did, or didn't, create it. I can make the argument that the bible was written by men, because, of course, it was, but I cannot say if they were inspired by angels/the divine, or whether they were suffering from schizophrenia.  This is basically the root idea of empiricism.

The Divine is a personal reality, a supernatural conviction that each person must arrive at on his or her on (or not, as the case may be). So, while it is perfectly acceptable to correct those who misunderstand your belief (which is a natural force), it is not correct (nor polite), to tell them that their belief is logically untrue. Who is to say if there is or is not a God, or Gods, and which God or Gods is the "truth", when it is so subjective a thing?

In some senses, truth is mutable, but in those cases, the mutability is ambiguity. It is room to question, and questions are opportunities for growth.

Keep thinking. It's good for you, and it makes people nervous.

Christian Socialism, Solidarity, and the word "Catholic"

Three days into Lent and I'm starting to remember what it's for after all. I was going to post a fantastic image of one of Cam's rosaries, but I decided not to, for, you see, I believe in intellectual property - you get the Divine Mercy, instead... it's my favourite chaplet, when I'm in a chaplet sort of mood. But that, you see, is entirely beside the point.

Between the season and getting mired back in politics, I've spent a lot of time trying to figure out how I think communities should run. While national and international politics is fantastically fun stuff, there's a tendency to forget to think about things in the form of people. Since people are most directly affected by the policies of their community, the governance of a community is perhaps the purest form. Ergo, that's what I've been thinking about.

Communities are organizations, however loose they might seem, and organizational behaviour is actually one of my fields of formal study with the College. A lot of it is common sense. Some of it sounds suspiciously familiar. Some of it even seems like chapters out of a communist manifesto, if that manifesto was written by socially-responsible capitalists instead.

The people who surround you become like a family, even if they aren't really your relatives. Like any family, a community is going to have its smooth and rough patches, whether that community is an office building, a neighbourhood, or the entire municipality. Interpersonal interaction, and the way you treat other people, is as important in government as it is in any other field.

One of the best thinkers on the subject I've ever heard was probably one you've all heard of as well... Jesus Christ.

“But to you who are listening I say: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you,  bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.  If someone slaps you on one cheek, turn to them the other also. If someone takes your coat, do not withhold your shirt from them.  Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back. Do to others as you would have them do to you.

    “If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? Even sinners love those who love them. And if you do good to those who are good to you, what credit is that to you? Even sinners do that. And if you lend to those from whom you expect repayment, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, expecting to be repaid in full. But love your enemies, do good to them, and lend to them without expecting to get anything back. Then your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High, because he is kind to the ungrateful and wicked. Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful. (Luke 6:27-36, NSV)

For one thing, pretty much this entire passage is speaking directly to me. I'm pretty bad at controlling my anger, which is the stuff of family legend, and rivalled only by that of a few (mostly fictional) people. I'm not violent, I'm just notoriously cranky. It's embarrassing and inappropriate and I hate it... and it's chiefly rooted in feelings of embarrassment. The other cheek, as it were.

More importantly, though, and perhaps more relevantly, it has applications to the community. Turning the other cheek and not raising your temper, caring for those who need it, and generally behaving as mild-mannered as possible is the path to relative office or community harmony. The whole of the gospels are peppered with verses instructing much the same. How it is nobler to give to the poor than to accrue wealth, and so on.

Christ was a Socialist. Maybe the First Socialist.  Certainly the best socialist, though he wouldn't have called himself that, and certainly nobody else would actually say that he was merely a socialist leader either. The fact of the matter is that socialism simply fits many of the criteria for Christ's just society. It is a solidarity of the community, a togetherness. The abandonment of rivalries and idealistic division in order to focus on the things that really matter. Universality. Catholicism.


That's the meaning of that particular word, by the way. Universal. I don't believe that people should be divided from one another. I especially don't believe that Christians should be. I don't really care if a person is Catholic, United Church, Baptist, Lutheran, Orthodox, Anglican, or any other shade of Christian... you're just Christian.

"The one, holy, apostolic Church."

Quebec Religious Ethics Classes Constitutional: Supreme Court of Canada

Students in Quebec public schools take courses in Religions and Ethics that include study of numerous world religions. A couple challenged the law, claiming that the class infringed on their religious rights with regards to their children, which they wanted to use to restrict their child's own religious freedom to whatever their household faith was. The Supreme Court ruled against on Friday, saying that the course did not pose an impairment to the right to freedom of religion.

In writing the descision, Chief Justice McLachlin wrote:

Although the sincerity of a person’s belief that a religious practice must be observed is relevant to whether the person’s right to freedom of religion is at issue, an infringement of this right cannot be established without objective proof of an interference with the observance of that practice.  It is not enough for a person to say that his or her rights have been infringed.  The person must prove the infringement on a balance of probabilities. ...    L and J have not proven that the ERC Program infringed their freedom of religion, or consequently, that the school board’s refusal to exempt their children from the ERC course violated their constitutional right.  They have also shown no error that would justify setting aside the trial judge’s conclusion that the school board’s decision was not made at the dictate of a third party. Decision Text at Lexum.org

Essentially, the argument was that exposure to new/different religions did not constitute a restriction on religious freedom. One of the appellants offered the CBC a statement.

"My son is in fourth grade and he already asks questions about his own religion and I find it sad that it's happening at such a young age," said S.L., the mother who can only be identified by her initials, because of a publication ban. CBC.ca

 Personally, I don't grant her premise. Questioning your religion is the only way to increase your understanding of that religion, and, more importantly, to build your own spirituality. Doing something "because that's the way it's done" is not a valid motivation. For faith to be sincere, it must be hard-won, through experience and analysis. If I am not mistaken, a child at the fourth grade is old enough for confirmation and first eucharist. I believe we call that the age of reason, do we not?

Frankly, I think just about everyone on earth would benefit from exposure to new and different faiths. I'm sure others will disagree.