A Dialogue

Stephen: What are you writing about?

Stephen: Oh, I was just about to bring up the whole “They’re taking Christ out of Christmas” conversation we Christians love to have this time of year. Seriously, I’ve heard it at least ten times since I’ve come home, and it’s only been twenty-four hours.

Stephen: It’s really not a big deal.

Stephen: But it’s so like us, isn’t it? To take some harmless gesture, like someone saying “Happy Holidays” at the grocery store, and use it to feed our persecution complex? People are getting worked up over nothing. We celebrate Christmas, sing Christmas carols, put up a Christmas tree, watch “A Christmas Story”, open Christmas presents…the word is not going anywhere. The only problem people have is that “Happy Holidays” acknowledges that other holidays are also occurring this season: Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, New Years, etc. I hear friends say “When people say ‘Happy Holidays’ to me, I say ‘yes, Merry CHRISTMAS!’ I’m not ashamed!” Isn’t that a little rude, to get in someone’s face for no reason? So what if the person at the grocery store is making a blanket statement about good cheer, instead of assuming you celebrate Christmas? We call it “politically correct”, but why is that a bad thing? What’s wrong with being mindful and courteous of others?

Stephen: Yeah, I guess…

Stephen: You don’t sound too enthusiastic.

Stephen: I don’t know, it just seems like you’re picking others apart too much. So your mom made some clichéd Facebook status about not saying “Happy Holidays”. She has only good intentions. Why do you need to be so critical? Aren’t you guilty of the same thing you’re criticizing them about? Getting worked up over nothing?

Stephen: I was just making a point…

Stephen: No, you’re just looking for something to get upset about. That seems to be all you do these days, and I for one am getting a little sick of it. Just because you have a blog,  you think you have license to rant about any little thing you don’t like? It doesn’t feel right. Did you have anything else in mind?

Stephen: Well, I was also thinking about patriotism. In particular, I’ve seen this battle going on between two groups on Facebook. One is “Soldiers Aren’t Heroes”, which is a group of people trying to protest the hero worship of soldiers in Iraq. They  say that while many soldiers may act heroically, merely putting on a uniform isn’t enough to warrant the term “hero”, especially when it means choosing to serve in a war which half the nation thinks is about oil.

Stephen: That couldn’t have gone over well…

Stephen: Which leads me to the second group: “A Petition to Ban the Soldiers Aren’t Heroes Group from Facebook.” Many, many more people are members of this group, or ones like it. And if you read the things people write on it, it’s really disgusting. “Those liberal faggots can burn in hell!” “Anyone who denies that every single soldier is a hero deserves the death penalty.” “If I saw the creator of that group on the street, I would shoot him in the  face! America doesn’t need people like that!” The irony is insane. People claiming to be all about freedom are talking about shutting down a group because it makes negative claims about soldiers…and then threatening to shoot them?! Even if I think the group is in poor taste, they raise a valid point at least: we throw the word “hero” around so much, it loses all meaning. Like Anne Frank. We read her diary and call her a hero, but why? Because she was the victim of a tragedy? What heroic act did she do, aside from keeping a diary?

Stephen: Again, it’s just a nice sentiment. Same thing with the soldiers. You can argue all you want about the ethics of warfare, but at the end of the day, good families are losing loved ones. If you met a grieving mother, would you tell her you’re not positive her son was a hero? Of course not! You’d want to console her, show your support, tell her that her son wasn’t lost in vain, that he died heroically. It’s the loving thing to do. Maybe he was just in it for the power and worship, but maybe he was one of the millions who genuinely want to protect their country. Who are you to judge the heart of a person?

Stephen: I’m not necessarily agreeing with the first group. I’m just pointing out how quickly people seem to demonize anyone who even tries to start a discussion.

Stephen: You’re taking the impassioned rage of a person who is genuinely worried about a loved one serving overseas, and trying to poke holes through it. It’s like correcting someone’s grammar in the middle of a eulogy. It’s just cynicism. You think it’s so cool and edgy to make fun of people, or take a few extreme statements to build up an ideology just so you can tear it down. And worst of all, you think there’s something novel about it. No way, the Christian Right has some problems? What a groundbreaking stance to take! You’re so real!

Stephen: Okay, that’s taking it too far. I have some genuine problems with the church, and I think they’re worth expressing. I’ll give you that the “Happy Holidays” rant was a little weak, but the church deserves to be criticized every once in a while.  I still love it. I’m still a part of it. I’d just like to see some changes.

Stephen: Maybe so, but you’re not approaching it correctly. Maybe it feels consistent to you, but outwardly you just look two-faced. You go to church, smile, sing worship songs, listen to the pastor’s sermons and take notes, then go out and trash it. Pick apart flaws in the lyrics of the songs. Get all high and mighty because the pastor made a few political comments from the pulpit you didn’t think were appropriate. Listen to Bill Hicks or George Carlin rant about how stupid Christians are, and laugh your head off like it doesn’t apply equally to yourself. It’s ridiculous. For all that talk of integrity, does a single friend up at Berkeley know you’re a Christian? One even brought up faith and the Bible the other day, and you still had nothing to say. That was a great conversation begging to happen, and you just shrugged it off. I would have shared so much more.

Stephen: I know, I have a problem with that. I believe in the Christian faith, but I’m still afraid of the connotations associated with it. People have a lot of legitimate issues with Christianity, and even though I’ve grown quite a bit, I’m still not sure I can answer them. Like the inerrancy of Scripture. I believe in it, and feel convicted of it, but how could I explain that to friend who sees me as an otherwise extremely rational, skeptical person? And if they criticize Christianity for going against science, the best I can say is “Oh, I don’t believe in a strictly literal translation of Genesis. I’m fine with the age of the earth, and even evolution, being exactly as science seems to point towards.” Have I defended anything, or just admitted defeat?

Stephen: It feels like a lost cause to me. There are so many verses which still can’t be reconciled, and so many theological issues with your belief. Evolution requires death, which would mean there was death before the fall. Would God really choose a brutal method like survival of the fittest? How does that mesh with the “Last shall be first and first shall be last” dictum? And what about Adam and Eve? Do you say the earth is 4.5 billion years old, and then through the slow process of evolution, only two humans, Adam and Eve, came into existence? Why would it end there? And how does that put the human race in any special position on earth?

Stephen: Well, I think the concept of God “breathing life” into Adam is important. I don’t know. Even if I accept the possibility of evolution, I don’t think that makes us just over-glorified animals. I like the idea of God breathing life into Adam, as a transition from animal to spiritual; as a way of setting us apart. If evolution is true, it certainly isn’t how anything important — the soul  — came into being. That’s why it doesn’t bother me.

Stephen: Still, you haven’t really fleshed out your beliefs. You’d rather say “I have trouble reconciling this with the Biblical account, but I’m open to the possibility” than “I have trouble reconciling the Biblical account with this evidence, but I believe it anyway”. Where does your default faith lie? What does that say about you, as a believer?

Stephen: Look, I don’t know. I’m trying to work through these things like anyone else. Why are you being critical now? I never claimed to be perfect.

Stephen: But you talk like you are. That’s the problem I have with you. I can’t stand a hypocrite. Why would you tear down other people’s beliefs with arguments and snide comments, if you have nothing substantial to replace it with? Just for the sake of inflicting the same doubt that you feel onto everyone around you? Because you’re really not offering anything real. You seem to know what to say in any argument, until someone actually asks what you genuinely believe. Then you hide away behind phrases like “personal conviction” and hope they don’t question further. It’s like you’re afraid to take your arguments to their logical conclusions, because you’re worried you’ll lose something — either your faith, or your delusion of rationality — in the process. Why would you want to put anyone else in that position?

Stephen: I think you’re being a little melodramatic. I may have a few things I’m still unsure of, but overall, my belief is pretty strong. I remember talking to my dad about predestination a few years ago — back in my Calvinist days — and being so frustrated when he’d say “It’s just a mystery.” It seemed like a cop-out at  the time. Now I find myself saying the same thing. I don’t know how it all works out, but I can’t put life on hold while I sort through my endless list of questions. It’s reasonable to say “I don’t know” once in a while.

Stephen: Look, the main point I was trying to make wasn’t about faith in particular; just your general outlook. For being so outwardly nice, you have the capacity to be pretty scathing. You’re so quick to form judgements about others, and so slow to edify in the most simple, loving ways. Who cares if sometimes people get swept up in emotion, and say things which aren’t entirely logical? You listened to Notes From the Underground the other night, you know what Dostoevsky was saying: how we try to turn life into a search for some crystal palace of rationality, when sometimes the best thing we can do for ourselves is to act on emotion, even if (and precisely because) it goes against reason. It keeps us human.

Stephen: I knew you’d try to tie that in somehow. You can’t get halfway through a book before trying to look sophisticated by quoting it.

Stephen: No, you can’t. I really mean this. People are so much more than rational. They love: and sometimes that leads them to say impassioned things to defend the people they love from what feels like slander. And they feel. Strongly. Maybe when a stranger says “Happy Holidays” and a person responds with a pointed “Merry Christmas”, it’s not about rubbing it in anyone’s face; it’s just about unbridled, infectious joy. If you believe it, you want to share it! When you’re constantly playing devil’s advocate, straining yourself to consider every viewpoint at all times, you lose a lot of joy in the process.

Stephen: True, but what other choice do I have?  I can’t help but listen to what people are saying, and when I do, I can’t help but be critical.  What, do you expect me to just turn this off at will? To dumb myself down when it’s convenient?

Stephen: No, not dumb yourself down. Just…I don’t know. Let some things go. Live and let live. Take a break once in a while, and actually practice what you preach, or at least commit to what you’re preaching, instead of immediately anticipating some contrary opinion and voicing it without giving a solution, as if you’re immune to criticism as long as you were the first one to mention it. You’ll never win. Overthinking things just turns you into this…this…

Stephen: Schizophrenic. I know. But you’re not immune to criticism either. Your live-and-let-live philosophy just turns you into a spineless people-pleaser. You run away from an argument for the sake of being agreeable, and compromise your convictions in the process. Most of your friends seem to find you easy to talk to, and it’s probably because you always seem to agree with whatever they’re saying. Even when they’re saying things which are diametrically opposed. How is that working out for you?

Stephen: At least I have friends.

Stephen: At least I have integrity.

Both: This argument is going nowhere.