Attitude

Attitude is a funny thing. A funny, powerful, mysterious, and probably neglected thing. I don’t think I like Mark Driscoll. I haven’t read anything by John Piper, but I don’t like him either. Nor am I fond of Kevin DeYoung (if you’ve heard of him).  The whole Reformed thing really annoys me actually. Same with Christian Manhood/Womanhood literature (which I also haven’t read). All this idealized testosterone pumping and jumping around on sharp rocks and stuff is gonna give somebody cancer or something. It has to.

Note that I never said any of these people or schools of thought are necessarily wrong. But oh, it would please us to know and proclaim their wrongness. Yes, we would like that very much, and we will probably keep an eye open and roving for opportunities to do so, even if only to ourselves (that’s the royal we, by the way… though you may join Us in Our Article usage if you wish).

On the other hand, I like people like Rob Bell and Brian McLaren and the Emergent Church. Again, admitting this doesn’t exclude the possibility that I think they have their mistakes, or even that they’re wrong as sin. We’re talking about attitudes here, not sin. I feel understood and resonant with such as these.  Predictably, I’m inclined to root for Christian feminists. Theistic evolutionists make me feel at home (probably because I am one). Heck, why just talk about Christians? I have a positive attitude about atheists and look forward to conversations with them. To a lesser degree, I’m partial to Mormons too. I get a warm fuzziness for fringy oddball untraditional people with their fringy oddball abnormal notions—even if I don’t share them.

Sometimes I worry that maybe God doesn’t appreciate what I appreciate in some of these folks (and ideas), and that he might want me to revile them-- at least the unrepentant ones.  Sure, Jesus hung out with whores and corrupt IRS agents, but somehow they all got repentant in convenient order when he came around, and that doesn’t seem to happen with me. I’m not even sure I get repentant when I come around. I worry about being an unholy person who doesn’t put up with sound doctrine (2 Timothy 4:3 being in mind here)—or at least aids and abets others in being that way.

But I digress. We were talking about attitudes. I recall learning of a study that showed how people from opposing schools can watch a sports game between their teams, and when honestly answering questions about it afterward, would render substantially different pictures of what happened. Their different attitudes led them to focus on and notice different stuff, as well as interpret what they saw in different ways.

We also tend to surround ourselves with people and ideas that mostly confirm what we’re already inclined to believe (2 Timothy 4:3 seems pertinent once again). Just think of all those people who listen to conservative talk radio. Or if somehow that strikes you as unbiased pursuit of the truth, think about those of us who soak our heads in NPR. I bet you do something similar with your religious literature. (Or your anti-religious literature.)

I recently attended an Easter celebration with an African community that involved me eating sheep guts. Yes, guts; there were clearly intestines in there (among other exciting novelties). Fortunately the other food was good, so I could honestly express appreciation. But to the point, even before I stopped eating meat in general, I wasn’t a big fan of lamb, let alone innards. Reading some literature (a lot of those conservative Reformed books, say) is like eating that stuff for me. Other people, with other backgrounds, may love consuming the stuff. They may on the other hand, be overcome with irrational terror in the presence of foods I appreciate (like, say, salt licorice, or nutritional yeast flakes). In rare instances, we may even agree on what’s good for us and what’s not. That doesn’t always make it go down without some retching.

To me, it seems like a whole lot of our arguments have to do with our attitudes. See, we really don’t want to give any legitimacy to the things that disgust us. We may try to control ourselves and be reasonable, but our preconceived attitudes tend to express themselves in how we evaluate the other side. If we can draw it up as a battle between good (namely our point of view) and evil, all the better.

This situation isn’t always that bad for something like science, where competing schools of thought can be productive. But it sure does take a toll on things like Christian unity and doctrine. It’s hard to be open to correction by someone who doesn’t seem to understand or respect your values, insights and sensibilities. It can be even harder if they think they do understand and continue to disrespect all that. It’s hard to stand up for sisters and brothers whose flavor makes your stomach turn. We sure do need a lot of “longsuffering” along with gentleness, respect and humility—without sacrificing a bold concern for truth and a (humbly, fearfully careful) willingness to offend if God calls us to it.

I expectantly hope God knows how to deal with my attitudes, cuz I can’t tame them on my own. I hope “knowing how” is gentle and friendly more often than not. I hope he doesn’t have to squash a whole bunch of them like earwigs. I pray he finds a positive use for them.

Zeal fish (or, "The Borg")

The word of the day is moralistic. I had to look it up to see if it was what I meant. It's about right. In particular, I have in mind a sort of inflexible, unsympathetic, conventional, purist rulishness.

I'm generally a cautious type when it comes to rules. Growing up, in contrast to those who "push the fence" (flirting with transgression), my Mom described me as standing in the middle of the field, asking if I was anywhere close to the fence so that I might avoid getting near it.

In college, I tended to feel like I was pushing harder to serve God in disciplined zeal than my friends were, going to greater lengths to avoid potential sin, taking on a higher standard of responsibility. I found that difference problematic. We fish are geared to swim in schools.

I appreciate mixed metaphors. Geared fish of zeal swiming about in groups... Sort of like The Borg.

Generally after trying for a while to live in the utmost ideal of caution and responsibility I would get frustrated. That would push me to look for more practical ways to satisfy the jist of the principles without being a lone monk.

Particularly in my post-college Salt Lake City era, things sort of flipped. I've discovered in myself a substantial amount of frustration with religious compulsiveness in its various guises and tried to loosen up, hoping to purge my mindset of unnecessary anxieties and unjustified barriers to enjoying life. At times, some of my motivation has also been a hope to experience God's unconditional love for me. I've felt like too much of my sense of his warmth toward me is focused on my performance; when I'm not sure whether I'm performing ideally (which is usually), I'm not sure God's smiling. So I've looked for a kind of a prolonged Sabbath of sorts where Tom's zealous efforts can more palpably take back seat. Or have I really just gotten more lazy and self-indulgent? I'm not sure it's an either-or. I'm guessing that both the positive and negative motives have been at work in me.

Fittingly, the social situation has flipped too. Here I've found myself among close friends driven to live in disciplined zeal. That sometimes hits a raw nerve in me; some of what gives them joy makes me anxious. Recently I was in a group discussing Ephesians 5:3-6. Some of what was said felt oppressively moralistic to me, although I'm not sure to what extent that was because of people actually being unhelpfully moralistic versus me wanting to have my sin left alone. Regardless, I had better not judge the speakers.  I wonder how much I've played the moralist in my discussions, with someone else in the discussion feeling as I did, while I went away happy.

I need to voice a certain fence pushing of mine here: reading passages like Eph 5:3-6, sometimes I wonder if Paul is a moralistic prude-- or, from another angle, if what strikes me as moralistic prudishness is a proper element of being a Christian. Sorry, that unsavory notion probably doesn't help anyone. I have reservations about the Bible and how we deal with it to work through. Somehow I get irritated sometimes when people speak zealously about it. Sometimes. Sometimes it's over silly things: the title "the Word" (applied strictly to the Bible) tends to annoy me in particular. All this is probably another reason why I sometimes feel uncomfortable among my zealous friends. Even if I know they're probably zealous about something very good, I still dissonate with them at times. We fish are geared to swim in schools.

Please understand, I'm not saying this because I want to drag any of you into doubt with me.  I'm sorry if this is a downer. I regard the paragraph above as a problem. I'm sharing it anyway because I don't want to either A) hide my problems (to be more highly regarded as a man of faith), or B) feel like I have to somehow "fix" my problems immediately. Expressing to you my issues is meant as an invitation to journey together on the muddy, bug-infested trails, not just the picturesque legs of the trip-- even as the dissonant fish that we may be.

"B" brings up another mindset shift in this phase of my life: I'm learning to take problems (such as troublesome feelings, attitudes, fears etc) out, put them on the table, suspend my judgment about them, and carefully work through them. Maybe I'll discover something good and helpful in the process. This is part of the freedom I've been seeking: to be able to peacefully work through stuff with God, without having to rush to whatever I suppose is "the right answer" or feeling generally delinquent during the process.

I wonder if God intentionally put me on the other end of 'zeal' for a while in order to teach me a thing or two. Cuz I don't feel like I could just choose to be zealous at this point-- at least zealous in a normal way. I hope he breaks down my pride. I hope I get wiser and learn to understand and love people better. I hope I get some wisdom I can share.

Thanks for reading. I hope you were able to understand all this. Have you faced similar issues? Do you see others facing them? What are your thoughts?

Faith, credulity and "intellectual virtures"

I've been writing again lately. I've been working on a book of sorts that I'm calling God and the Gadflies (a name I had for the book before I started the blog) in which I explore my own spiritual doubts: the story, the reasons, the experience and feelings, and how to respond. Here's an excerpt from what I've written lately:

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There is a time when questioning assumptions and choices is highly valuable and a time when it can be counterproductive. I am a zealot for the value of questioning in its time, and doing it well. Provided that deliberation is a live option, the more important a decision is, the more careful, critical and unconventional an examination it deserves. 

For many people (and increasingly with age), the question of fundamental religious beliefs (or unbeliefs) seems to be a done deal. That’s probably appropriate for many of them. In particular, faithful Christians established in their beliefs can, through their beliefs, be gutsier, more resilient, more devoted and more reliable in the good that they do than if they lived in meaningful uncertainty concerning their basic understanding of things. I respect such people and hope to become like some of them. But the process of maturing into the creatures we ought to be requires different challenges for each of us.

As an intellectual person, I wish to culture and apply my gifts and to grow in character especially in ways relevant to those gifts. I am viscerally convicted of the value of the intellectual dimensions of humility, empathy, fairness, courage, perseverance and integrity. This is an important part of who I am. I believe it should be my aim to be heedful of my limits, owning up to my ignorance and weaknesses and inconsistencies in reasoning; to stand in the shoes of other people, thinking from their points of view as best as I can and responding to what I find as I would wish to be treated and listened to; to apply even and appropriate standards in my thinking; to face ideas I find disagreeable, threatening or detrimental to my own interests with a desire to learn;  to persevere in struggling with confusion and disquieting uncertainties in pursuit of truthful understanding whether I receive praise or discouragement for my efforts, without taking shortcuts; to change my mind in the face of a solid case even when it means swallowing my pride; to favor openness, not hiding from scrutiny and accountability;  and to help us each freely and soberly make our own belief choices without being manipulated or under the spell of intimidating circumstances, for in persuasion I believe the ends do not justify the means.

To me all this is the love of truthfulness and daylight. And through being guided by truthful methods, I propose that rather than simply believing what we want to believe, we can value the truth that meets those who seek it, even if we don’t actually know what the truth is. These principles of how to deal with ideas also play a role in extending respect and goodwill to people who are different from us.

My emphasis on these virtues, coupled with other observations that I will explain in due course, has led me to question the factual claims of my religion.

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And I go on. What do you think? Do you agree with the stated values? Do you see blind spots? A particular problem that bothers me from time to time is the notion that maybe Christian faith and these "intellectual virtues" are at odds -- like, say, if faith required biased credulity-- trying to believe a certain thing (period) rather than trying to follow whatever clues you have wherever they lead. Is there any basis for that concern?

Excuses to share with a future generation

I had an idea yesterday for a short story of sorts. It would be a conversation between myself and my brother's great granddaughter through his son Orlando. When Dan was a kid, he said he would name his son Orlando, so I'm thinking I need to make sure that transpires. Anyway, in those days, people would think of today's farming and culinary situation similar to how we might think of the American South before the abolition of slavery. Maybe not everyone would be vegan, but animal products would be thought of more like tobacco and alcohol are today. Or maybe pornography.

It would be sort of like a conversation that someone in the 1920's might have with an old relative who had lived in the antebellum South, or a conversation today with a relative who lived in Nazi Germany. She would have friends who said they couldn't be Christians because Jesus ate fish and God commanded all those animal sacrifices and sanctioned an oppressive relationship between humans and animals, to which she would reply with apologetic arguments trying to show that God really does care about animal welfare. But she would still wonder how Christians of my day could be so complicit with the problem. To her, it would be obvious that our treatment of animals was diabolical, and she would have trouble understanding how people could suppress their consciences so thoroughly. I would try to give some perspective on how people in other cultural situations think, and try to help her reason in more grays. She would also wonder why I had been such an Uncle Tom, more-or-less abstaining agreeably rather than passionately standing up for the oppressed and setting the captives free. I would try to explain that too.

In those days, governments would set up cushy little farms as a token reimbursement to today's farm animals by preserving their genetic line and being nice to their offspring. People would come and make friends with the fat, spoiled little farm animals- each with a name and a well-known personality, and it would make the humans all the more horrified with their ancestors.

Perhaps Seventh day Adventists first and eventually Mormons would take 'the lead' among Christians, sort of like the Quakers had during slavery, while Evangelicals would mostly align and be associated with the hard core of resistance. And of course Eastern religions would be way 'ahead' of the Christians and Muslims, and make a demographic comeback against the Abrahamic religions because people would find their ethics more respectable and their heritage more inspiring.

That's about as far as I've thought. I don't know whether I could make it a good story. Most likely my skills in fiction writing will need a lot of work. Maybe this is as far as it gets. I'm sort of concerned that it might seem cocky. But showing you all why you're wrong and I'm right isn't exactly the idea; the idea is to think about ourselves from a different angle, whether or not the imagined future is actually a more enlightened one. Or my notion here might seem sort of out of touch with reality. I can handle that; entertaining literature often is.

Understanding

Hi friends,

Last post I described an assignment of mine to write a paper about my take on the interrelation of psychology and religion. Here's what I came up with! I welcome comments. 

One thing that I take a position on here but concerning which I still have second thoughts is a question about interpreting the Bible. I've heard it emphasized that you ought to seek the author's intent when interpreting the Bible (with the assumption we're talking about the human author). That seems pretty sensible. But I imagine the human authors of the Bible were naive of the perspective available to us in modern times, and probably thought in ways and with notions that conflict with the worldview and disciplined ways of thinking that have developed in our society as both a product of and foundation for the scientific enterprise. So I feel like on the "authorial intent" model, it's anachronistic to use science to interpret scripture. I would expect the Hebrews to have some funny, inaccurate ideas and for those ideas to show up in their writing.

I'm not saying the ancient Hebrews were fools by any means, nor that they don't have things to teach us, nor that modern "scientific thinking" always has stuff right or at least better than everyone else did.  But historical context carries certain limitations, and there seems to be a puzzle (or mystery) in just what to do with the differences in thought processes and knowledge between people of Biblical times and today. 

The simplest responses are to either (A) dismiss scripture for the most part because it was written by ignorant, unscientific people with weird ideas, or (B) to try to adopt their worldviews in all the ways that they show up in scripture as best as we can-- presumably trying to harmonize the various perspectives into one worldview. I dislike both of those options, and hope for C. If you're a Christian, what do you think should be done, and why?

I hope all that didn't just completely confuse you. I hope it makes you think and pray. (Or just enlighten me if you've already got it all sorted out? ;) )

Understanding the Mind and Soul

Thomas B. Douce

Psychology is Greek for the study of the soul. Today it is English for the scientific study of mind and behavior, and arguably also for applications of thinking on mind and behavior to counseling. The reader is probably quite aware that religion also has quite a bit to do with counsel and souls, our thoughts and behaviors, and our understanding of such. Those of us who engage with both psychology and religion thus have a question on our hands of how they ought to relate to one another. In what follows, I give my personal take on the issue: that psychology and religion can have a mutually beneficial interaction, cooperating toward development in wisdom and understanding, provided a person pays attention to preserving the integrity of each in the process.

Assumptions

There is a great diversity of belief systems that one might call religions, and not every religion—or even the manifestation of what looks like one religion in the context of different people—serves identical functions or relates in the same way to objective reality or to a given body of thought. Hence, different religions relate differently to psychology. I believe that my religion’s relationship with psychology should be understood based on what it is in my life, not on what someone who doesn’t believe in or practice it thinks it ought to be. I’m willing to extend the same sensibility to religions that are not mine. So I narrow the focus to my religion, roughly meaning Christianity that holds the Bible to be authoritative and focuses on a genuine personal relationship with God.

Personally, I’m something of a skeptic, with profound doubts concerning foundational beliefs of my religion. But it is my policy to suspend my skepticism and invest in my relationship with God, even while bringing up my deep misgivings with him. While the factor of my skepticism is relevant to my engagement with psychology, space limits me to focus on how psychology and my religion interact given the assumption that my religion’s truth claims are ultimately valid.

So the discussion that ensues assumes the truth of basic Christian teaching. Further, I assume that the scientific enterprise is a valid, powerful and important way of gaining knowledge about reality. While assuming that the Christian scriptures contain some divinely revealed facts and mediate divine guidance for believers (sophisticated and simple believers alike), I don’t hold that the revelation is intended as a textbook for all facets of life, that it is always clear or that it is necessarily to be elucidated solely through cross-referencing the text and other overtly religious practices. Rather, I submit that outside sources—including scientific findings—can be properly helpful for interpreting the divine revelation found in scripture and what to do with it.

Science

Much of my approach to psychology as a Christian has to do with my approach to science in general. I believe science and religion can and should have a mutually beneficial relationship. What God communicates through words and what God paints and demonstrates through the world he’s made should each be helpful for interpreting the other.

In general, I do not find scripture to be ideally geared toward formulating scientific hypotheses. The Bible wasn’t written by people with scientific worldviews, and seems to me to be primarily concerned with issues of meaning and guidance. Nevertheless, I think scripture can produce ideas for scientific theorizing, and scientific findings can report back to give feedback concerning whether those theories are on to something.

For illustration, consider the issues of evolution and the age of the earth. A very literal interpretation of the beginning of Genesis can yield theories about what the earth and life should and shouldn’t look like. It seems to me that what we actually find through the scientific process strongly suggests that these theories are incorrect. Perhaps the discrepancy with the Bible-based theory leads us to double-check our work, but suppose my conclusions remain. This doesn’t necessarily mean that the Bible is defrocked. Rather, I see it as an invitation for our understanding of the Bible to change, develop and sprout new questions, just like our understanding of the world. I see a similar dynamic in how believers tend to process scripture with an expectation and interpretive preference for the teachings to resonate with them as good and wise in a way they wouldn’t if it wasn’t their scripture. By influencing the interpretive process, the believer’s intuition plays a similar role to what I propose with science. Note that both are fallible.

A further matter to take into account in the interaction of science and religion is worldview-based bias. Worldviews—our assumptions and ways of thinking—influence the ways we formulate theories, the questions we choose to explore, the information we notice and which possible patterns we most readily perceive when making sense of that information. Thus, one’s views concerning religious questions can influence how a person does science. I believe this influence grows as we move from studies of strictly physical things to matters of more direct pertinence to the human condition. These, being both more value-laden and more complicated to study and make sense of, involve more non-trivial interpretive choices, and thus more opportunity for the influence of our worldview-based biases.

I think a diversity of perspectives can be helpful in scientific studies. Even if some are better than others, all of our worldviews are imperfect, as are our minds. Through diverse orientations, we can check each other’s blind spots, and stimulate the investigation of spicy questions to which we otherwise might remain comfortably oblivious among like-minded friends. Scientific method, best practices and controls are designed to substantially curb the influence of our biases, and I think they do a good job of it. But significant biases often remain, especially in abstract sciences like social psychology. So Christians should be wary of being led along by assumptions they don’t notice and needn’t accept. But so should any good scientist. Christians should be careful but welcoming of science conducted by non-Christians, practicing an attitude of measured, open-minded skepticism.  Christians who are scientists should also be watchful that our own zeal for our religiously based expectations does not override our commitment to the integrity of the scientific process (for example, by rushing to convenient, unfalsifiable conclusions and proclaiming them as scientific), which could limit our usefulness to other scientists, mar our reputation, impede our own learning and constitute a blemish on our service to God.

Psychology

It should be apparent from the above that I think psychological findings ought to influence my religious thinking. As an example of how they can influence religious perspective, consider the notorious Stanley Milgram obedience studies (for example Milgram, 1963), in which most participants (ordinary Americans) were induced to (as far as they knew) kill other innocent research study participants when ordered by the experimenter to apply electric shock to the other person, incrementally increasing the voltage over the course of the experiment. I find these experiments enriching for my perspective on sin: how sin operates on a group level, how it makes sense to extend more empathy than abhorrence toward those who commit terrible acts, and the way my apparent virtues are largely context-dependent.

For an example of how psychological findings can influence the practical application of religion, consider research on disciplining children. Do verses in the Bible like Proverbs 13:24, 22:15 and 29:15 which carry the theme of “spare the rod, spoil the child” focus only on the importance of parental discipline in general for a child’s development, or do they also imply that corporal punishment in particular is important? I think scientific findings on the effects of different forms of punishment should help Christians answer this interpretive question.

Religion can also positively influence psychological research. For instance, suppose that Christians deduce from the aforementioned proverbs that at minimum, moderate and thoughtful corporal punishment ought to generally be more beneficial for children’s development than no discipline at all. If the latest research suggests that all corporal punishment is generally harmful to children, I think Christian researchers would have good reason to cast a critical eye on these studies and perhaps attempt to devise creative new studies to challenge the results in question. If done well, this ought to be a helpful stimulant for advancing psychological research, irrespective of whether the Bible is correct on this point. The same should apply to similar cases.

While I’ve focused on positive cross-pollination between religion and psychology, they may sometimes be at odds with each other, and while this may be disconcerting for those who value both, it isn’t necessarily a crisis. In the discipline example above, even supposing the ensuing research never ends up supporting the Bible-derived theory, I believe Christians should still trust Biblical guidance in good faith; in this example, parents should discipline their children regardless of what scientists find. It is part of Christian faith to trust God in the face of disconcerting appearances, and situations as above may pose an opportunity for such faith.

As compared with research, based on my limited knowledge of the subject, clinical and counseling psychology may bring more occasion for Christian distinctiveness. Some theoretical frameworks, such as Freudian psychoanalysis or existential psychology, can be dismissive of Christian truth claims or dissonant with Christian values and priorities. I think Christians (whether patients or psychologists) can still appreciate certain insights and salvage useful elements of these approaches, but should do so with thoughtful discretion. Since this may not be practical for patients, Christians should make sure they settle on compatible psychologists and may in many cases want to supplement that help with pastoral care to ensure that both medical and spiritual (and perhaps other) dimensions of their problems are adequately addressed. From what I can tell, non-Christian psychologists can often be helpful to Christians in a similar way to how non-Christian doctors are helpful: the prescription for mental health is often the same whether the psychologist is Christian or otherwise.

However, the Bible does have a fair amount to say about mindset, perspective and wise living, which can be important sources for the counselor as well as concerns for Christian patients. Ideally, a Christian psychologist should be able to discerningly weave psychological and spiritual insights together for the best outcome. The best healthcare considers the whole person, as physical, psychological, social and spiritual dimensions can influence each other, and symptoms in one dimension may be caused by, influenced by or interactive with issues in another.

The Bottom Line: Fruitful Thought

As I’ve shared, psychology and specifically Christian sources of wisdom and understanding such as the Bible can work constructively together in guiding how Christians think about the world, form our beliefs, make our decisions and give counsel and psychological help. By engaging in both, I can become wiser and more insightful than I would otherwise be, and perhaps be able to share what I learn with others. Further, I believe the struggle itself to constructively integrate the different perspectives and ways of thinking presented by the two (and by studying each through the lens of the other) is an opportunity for me to grow as a thinker and mature as a Christian.

Reference

Milgram, Stanley (1963). Behavioral study of obedience. Journal of Abnormal and Social Psychology, 67, 371–378.

Psychology and Religion (and Cookies and Collaboration)

This evening I brought my home-made chocolate chip cookies to my Psychology and Religion class. It was partly a sort of an act of penance (which is unusual for me). Last class during a potluck somebody else brought a bunch of fancy organic energy bars. As the guy said he'd spent 20 buck a box on them (he brought in 2 boxes), I took a second, and felt sort of ashamed. I experienced the spotlight effect: the sense that several people noticed I was exceeding the quota of gracious moderation, even though probably nobody did. Yea... it's probably kinda narcissistic or something to imagine they had studied the contents of my earlier feasting. Afterward I processed whether perhaps I deserved the sense of shame and whether I had sinned. I decided I was just being benignly immature. Somehow free food tends to induce in me a sort of... greed? Hmm, that does sound rather sinful. And unfitting, given that I probably get paid a lot more than most people in the class.

Anyway, I decided that on the one hand the gift was freely given without stipulation and not cause for guilt in my acceptance of it. But on the other, my hastiness to accept the generosity of others can result in losing track of my sense of gratitude and thoughtful, healthy proportion, and it would be good for me to grow out of that sort of mindless indulgence.

This week I made the class some chocolate chip cookies, inspired by some obscure mix of generosity, restitution, saving face (over what probably nobody else even noticed) and a way to make myself feel better about myself. And they raved about them! And it wasn't just customary manners, either; I could tell.

I felt about one-fourth immature and three-fourths happy to inform them that the cookies were vegan. I feel America is prejudiced against vegans and our food. Tolerant? Yes. Polite? Usually. Someone did take it upon themselves to make a PETA joke, but I didn't especially mind. Nevertheless, I stereotype them (= most Americans) as stereotyping vegan food as deprivation and vegan people as marred by a strange, even alien irrationality or  lack of good sense. It gives me glee to violate these presumptions where possible, especially through acts of generosity. It's almost like that Bible verse about heaping burning coals on enemies' heads through kindness. Except they're not my enemies, and a lot of them have themselves gone out of their way to graciously accommodate my dietary choices, and it's probably a bit more like a heap of spicy tofu.

 Yes... Spicy tofu...


Anyway, moving on, I'd like to invite you to help me with a project. Actually, I'd like to invite you to help me with a lot of projects down the road. I'm hoping this blog can offer an opportunity to think think with people (you) as a synergistic collaboration.

But on to the project. For my class in "psychology and religion" (essentially psychology of religion), I'm to write a paper discussing my view on the interrelation of those two subjects. It's also to address:
-what assumptions I have that influence my view on their integration
-what my view about their integration says about the relationship between science and religion
-and how my understanding of their relationship might help me lead a better life or help others.

Here are some initial thoughts. They probably have their flaws-- feel free to point them out. My apologies for vagueness as they crystalize:

*They can each be more appropriate frames for tackling questions in different situations. For example, carrying out a good relationship with God needs to be thought of in personal, unscientific terms. On the other hand,  I think scientific research will be more enlightening than Bible study when it comes to mapping and analyzing in detail human thought processes.

*They can inform each other. Imagine if scientists recommended against giving birth on account of the discovery that it's unhealthy -- after all, it's caused a lot of death and medical complications. I wonder if sometimes psychology may similarly make silly suggestions that religious reflection could help with. On the other hand, I'm intrigued by what social psychology has revealed about our techniques of self-deception. And I wonder if there's good material here and in other discoveries that could correct a lot of our theology.

*In some ways, psychology may challenge religion: for example, where there's all sorts of good psychological reasons for being a Christian that have nothing to do with it being true, perhaps belief is cast into question? I'm sure someone will want to pose it in the other direction too. Well, let me know how you think religion challenges psychology.

*I want science and religion to be friends. But I fear religion taking an overbearing "holier than thou" attitude in the relationship, even while watching that science not also overstep with an attitude of being "smarter than thee". I'm not completely comfortable that I can properly keep them from being those ways with each other. Sometimes I wonder whether religion does just trump science or science does just demolish religion.

*Through the lifelong study of psychology and religion that I anticipate, I have hopes that integrating psychological and spiritual insights can synergistically lead to wisdom for understanding and dealing with human nature. Personally, maybe I can provide counsel and guidance for others who deal with doubt and those who deal with them, use new understanding to instigate fresher, deeper productive thought among both Christians and non-Christians, and rattle some religious prejudices along the way.

So, any comments on these nascent notions?  Do you have any thoughts to add as I assemble my own?

(note 12/6/10: See my next post for what I came up with!)

'Pro-Life' Terrorists

Yesterday evening in my Psychology & Religion class, we watched "Soldiers in the Army of God", a documentary about the folks who bomb abortion clinics and such.  It was disturbing to me, but not in quite the same way that I think it disturbs most people.

Something in me tends to vaguely imagine that such abominable acts are perpetrated by hateful, crazy weirdos completely out of touch with reality, people with whom I have very little in common. Maybe that's what some viewers see? It's not what I saw.  I could very easily imagine being friends with at least one of these guys. I saw brave  idealists with strong consciences, people of compassion who were willing to resist the sedative, conformity-inducing forces of society and make big sacrifices for what they believe in. I saw people whose decisions kind of made sense to me given certain common beliefs they had, by a utilitarian way of thinking. Their stance seems to work by similar logic to how we might justify going to war- minus the sense of legitimacy provided by governments, tradition and the social mainstream: the idea that the killing of killers may be necessary in order to protect innocent life. It's true that there were oddballs and a couple strange ideas. But I like oddballs and their notions. When Paul Hill, who shot and killed an abortion doc and his body guard, described how he felt the days leading up to the shooting-- how he was troubled by the realization of what he thought God would have him do, and his unhappy queasiness leading up to the act, it reminded me of how I felt about a duty to evangelize when I was younger. And in his position, I can easily imagine being, like him, unrepentant to the end, taking joy in facing prison and death. I can identify with his sense of "hearing from God".  He expressed all this like a sensible, mild-mannered, friendly neighbor sitting in your living room.

I think I could have been one of them, in different circumstances. I saw a lot of myself in them. I can also imagine being a doctor who performs abortions, who doesn't believe fetuses are people, and is passionate about preserving desperate women's freedom and access to a relatively safe alternative to the coat hanger, proud to risk my life doing so in the face of bigoted bullying and terrorism. These are very different sorts of people, and yet both look villainous from one angle and heroic from another. They're people who act on convictions in the face of hardship and unpopularity.

 In class, I vaguely and shyly expressed that I could see myself in their shoes. It's good sometimes to see that I'm not always as bold as I envision myself being when it comes to risking face before the opinions of my peers.

Do you think these terrorists did wrong? Why? How? How do you know?

Can anything be done about them, to avoid this sort of thing coming into existence?
The instructor for this class (who, by the way, is a Christian and attends a Bible church) noted the dualistic worldview of people in the Army of God (common to fundamentalist movements): how everything is black and white, clear, a battle between good and evil. He suggested something to the effect that perhaps psychologists can help people learn to think with a healthy splash of gray.

I'm a big fan of gray. Yet when I read the Bible, I see a lot black and white thinking- at least from some of its authors and heroes-- people like John or David. Is it different with them? Sometimes I get angry at the authors of the Bible, and it influences my interpretation.

How do you respond to all this? Do you have any ideas for mitigating the emergence of this type of radicalism in our society? Does the Bible encourage (or even command) simple, absolutist, polarized thinking? Have I blown a circuit in my common sensometer?