The Carrier Pigeon

Michael Scott is one of the flagships of American television. Whether you like him or think the show was better after he left (which is objectively sacrilegious), there’s no denying how iconic Steve Carell’s portrayal of the hapless regional manager was. He awkward and cringe–Michael mostly just makes everyone uncomfortable, though he fancies himself something of a comedian (as evidenced by the quote “We’re like Friends. I am Chandler and Joey…and Pam is Rachel…and Dwight is Kramer). He also thinks himself overly generous and kind, despite the fact that he’s fairly self-centered and just wants to be liked by everyone. I mention this all because Michael is the poster-child for going to far. He crosses the line with just about everything: humor, trying to be nice (see Scott’s Tots), social boundaries, and especially relationships (see Diwali). It’s pretty obvious when Michael goes too far, and in a lot of social situations we would all know not to do what he does. But it isn’t as obvious where this line is with some things. One of those things is religion, or specifically Christianity.

We tried to hash out what the core beliefs of our religion were in class, and it proved to be a tough task. What makes Christianity…well, Christianity? What can’t change? Because plenty of things can–there are a whole lot of rules that are simply factors of the age. A lot of Leviticus is great for this purpose. We can see a lot of rules that no longer need to be followed, as well as some we still do (I don’t really think murder will ever be okay). As people grow and change, the non-core tenets of Christianity will change too. Christians used to believe that dancing was a sin…do you see anyone really propagating that anymore?

This is befitting of the postmodern form of Christianity, which writer Brian McLaren believes we are moving into as a society. There will be so many different interpretations and views of the Bible. A character in his book named Neo makes this remark: “My personal hunch is that there may not ever be a single dominating, monolithic postmodern philosophy, but rather that postmodern philosophy itself may be a pluralistic umbrella making room for many diverse philosophical voices within it. But that’s just a hunch.”

The immediate reaction many may have to this “multiple interpretation” approach is that of fear or rejection. It may be viewed as people taking and twisting the Bible to fit their own narrative, and to let them sin while not feeling guilty about it. Where is the line? When does interpretation become sinful?

That’s the million-dollar-question, but I think it is important to note that this problem is not specific to postmodern philosophy. People already use the Bible to justify sin, interpretation or otherwise. For example: how many Christians do you see using to Bible to feel superior to others, and/or using it as an excuse to hate?

I think, ultimately, that it is important to encourage and allow for these interpretations. Certainly, there will be people who do this wrongly and fall into sin as a result. But as I mentioned, people already do this. And in some cases…are they really even Christians? Or are they just people masquerading as one for one reason or another? The Bible welcomes interpretations as part of its nature–for better or worse, it was written thousands of years ago and has been translated several times. We will never know God’s true intent or what he really means by some more vague passages. So be careful immediately declaring something or someone dangerous and sinful–there are many perfectly legitimate interpretations that you simply will not agree with.

“When it says ‘God looks at the heart,’ it says No to both the lowest and the highest desires of life, and posits God as the enemy of life. The saint in whom God delights is the ideal eunuch. Life has come to an end where the ‘kingdom of God’ begins.”

Harsh words, right? Nietzsche wrote them in his work Twilight of the Idols. They are somewhat stereotypical words of an atheist searing Christianity, coming off as bitter and angry with said establishment. Nevertheless, how did Nietzsche come to this conclusion? Our first instinct may be to question Nietzsche’s family life—usually staunch atheists have had a negative experience with some sort of religious establishment that turns them away, often times their very own father. At first, the theory holds water. Nietzsche’s father was a Lutheran minister, which seems to set up a monumental father-son falling out. However, Nietzsche’s father died when he was only four years old…well before young Friedrich was considering matters of life, death, and God. What about the rest of his family then? Perhaps his mother was the Christian that rubbed him the wrong way!

That does not seem to be the case. There is little that I could find about the relationship between Nietzsche and his mother, but there is an important fact that sheds light on her “innocence”: in 1864, Nietzsche commenced studying Theology with hopes of becoming a minister. Based on this aspiration (albeit a very temporary one), I think it is safe to assume that nothing in Nietzsche’s family turned him into the atheistic philosopher he became.

All right, so what did? In a matter of a single academic semester, Nietzsche went from pursuing ministry to writing this in a letter to his religious sister: “Hence the ways of men part: if you wish to strive for peace of soul and pleasure, then believe; if you wish to be a devotee of truth, then inquire….”

All in all, it seems that Nietzsche lost his faith simply by attempting to learn more about it. He read history and philosophy regarding Christianity and eventually came to the conclusion that historical facts and analysis discredited the religion. Instead of God creating people…people created God. It seems that Nietzsche came to his conclusions by learning and seeking out knowledge on his own…a “victim” of the Enlightenment.

He is a perfect example of the problem some Christians have with the Enlightenment’s ideas of thinking. The Enlightenment preaches that we should think critically and independently about religion and related things. It encourages forming our own opinions rather than accepting what we hear from a priest or teacher. You could argue that this is important in growing in our faith…but you could also postulate that taking it too far is all too easy, and you may end up losing faith like Nietzsche.

He certainly adds a unique facet to our previous readings, especially Kant. Are these Enlightenment ideas good…or are they dangerous for our salvation?

As we know, not a question easily answered.

My favorite musical artist/band of all time has to be Death Cab for Cutie. I could go on and on about how much I love their work–from the ever-popular Plans (containing the hit I Will Follow You Into the Dark) to the underrated The Open Door EP. But nothing compares to their magnum opus, Transatlanticism. It’s a concept album, with songs flowing into each other and telling a story (basically, you have to listen to them in order). Transatlanticism means the world to me, and it’s always a lovely affair popping in my earbuds for forty-five minutes and soaking it in. But no listening experience will ever compare to the night of October 7, 2018.

On that night I was attending a Death Cab show in Chicago. I had been in the city to watch my dad finish the marathon (shoutout to him–I never thought he would do something so cool), and hopped over to the theater afterwards to watch them perform their newest album: Thank You For Today (also an excellent piece). What followed was the best shock of my life: Ben Gibbard, the frontman, announced that they would be holding a surprise 15th birthday party for Transatlanticism, which first dropped on October 7, 2003. They then proceeded to play the entire album through, some of which they hadn’t performed live since the original tour fifteen years prior. Nothing has ever come close to the happiness I felt that night. If I were to produce a Patronus, I’d use that memory. There was such a difference between listening to the album on my iPhone and listening to it live–a difference not to dissimilar to how Hume thinks we react and interpret the world.

Hume lines up across from Descartes, who says we learn about the world through logical thought and drawing conclusions, step by step. He states that nothing in the world can be trusted but out own thoughts, since the fact that we think is irrefutable. The Scottish philosopher, however, conjectures that we learn about the world though stringing experiences together and using them. For example, we can’t be sure a ball on an inclined plane will roll down it–but by accessing memories and experiences we have already, we can recall a similar or identical situation and determine that the ball will in fact roll down. I like Hume’s process quite a bit, especially when it comes to problem-solving. By looking at puzzles and riddles and thinking about things we already know, we can often draw correct conclusions.

Another idea Hume presents is that which relates to aforementioned experiences. I’ll specifically bring up a quote that I love. He writes, “The most lively thought is still inferior to the dullest sensation.” There’s a surface-level interpretation of this that has to do with emotion and sensation, like my Death Cab concert. Absolutely nothing compares to hearing them live. But there’s a deeper meaning to this too. We can think and plan all we want–but nothing will prepare and help us quite like throwing ourselves in. It’s quite like going to college. No matter how much prep-work you do, it’s the experience that will truly teach you, not the thoughts that happen before.

There is a lot of value to what Hume writes about, but I don’t think we should be forced to choose between him and Descartes. Deconstructing a situation a-la Descartes has just as much value as drawing from experience and real-world stimuli. I think the biggest danger when reading these methods would be to solely subscribe to one–just relying on our minds can make us ignorant and pompous, while trying to draw everything from the world may leave us empty-handed at times.

Bonus: Here is a picture from the show, of Ben performing an acoustic I Will Follow You Into the Dark.

Anyone following the news has seen the picture: a teen boy wearing a “Make America Great Again” hat appears to be sneering at an wizened old man, as if to antagonize him. When the events surrounding this picture first broke it was like a spark igniting the world’s driest kindling–America was lit ablaze. Frustrations are running high among anyone following politics even a little bit; everyone is angry at each other, with none of the sides willing to budge. We yell to one another from across a gorge. I’ll admit, I have a bevy of issues that I care about and most definitely have a horse in the race of politics. It’s easy for me to get annoyed with those I disagree with, especially in the midst of this historic government shutdown. But despite this, people are forgetting to be careful in their judgements. Anyone that disagrees with you has become a bogeyman of sorts, and we judge not by character but by whether or not you have a red baseball cap.

To summarize the situation, there were pictures and videos that came out, framing a high school student and his friends as antagonists towards a Native American war veteran and his compatriots. It was so easy to believe, and a lot of people lapped it right up–definitive proof that all Trump supporters are racists and that the MAGA hat is, as some have put it, “a modern day white hood”. I was one of those following this story as it broke, and I’ll shed some light on my position. I have never, and will never be a fan of Donald Trump. I’m not going say more right now, as this is supposed to be a brief blog. But I mention this detail to say that I was one of those people that could be suspect to accept this narrative. However, abiding by some of Descartes’ principles paid off when the rest of it came to light.

The whole mess ended up being a lesson to all who made snap judgements: it was later proven that the boys were doing nothing of the kind, and there was actually a third group that was jeering at both the MAGA hat wearers and the Native Americans, escalating the conflict and fanning the flames. This group, who call themselves the “Hebrew Israelites”, were taunting the teenagers and throwing racial slurs at the Indigenous Peoples Rally. The boy that appeared to be sneering at the War Veteran was actually attempting to remain silent in the conflict so that he wouldn’t get involved or anger anyone.

That’s well and good, but what do modern-day politics have to do with Descartes?

Reading his Principles of Philosophy was a lot like looking for good skipping stones on the rocky shores of Lake Michigan. His logic and the several points he made varied in quality, from fantastic rules to live by to nonsensical and unnecessary. The first thing I think is important to recognize about Descartes is that his idea of removing prejudice and completely deconstructing a situation before acting is (in my opinion) the best way to approach things. He is discussing how to prove the existence of God, of course, and it’s that specific issue where some of his off-the-wall points come in to play, but if we remove his process from its argument there is a lot of value to be found in said process.

The most important ideas to discuss in Part 1 are all near the end, when he is drawing a conclusion and attempting to encompass all his other details. Here are points 71-73:

71. The prejudices of childhood are the chief causes of error.
72. The second cause of error is that we can’t forget our prejudices.
73. The third cause of error: we find it exhausting to think about things that aren’t present to our senses; so out judgements about them are usually based not on present thinking but preconceived notions.

I think that Descartes is dead on with these, and it doesn’t really take much to prove him correct. This is why I mentioned the example above. And although that particular example had people on the left making unfair and false assumptions about Trump supporters, no one is exempt. I could just as easily have used an example of someone on the right making an unfair and harmful assumption about an LGBTQ individual. It just so happens that this particular one is big right now.

I have 73 in bold because I believe it is the heart of the issue, and why we remain so divided. When we see someone or something that we don’t agree with/don’t like, instead of getting to better know the situation or person we make judgements based on preconceived notions. These notions are unforgettable prejudices that we formed at some point in our life, often in childhood. We carry them like a holy symbol, when often they’re no more than an unfair idea. Whenever a situation comes up that appears to fit with our holy symbol, we don’t like to do the work, step back, and analyze things. We throw our assumptions at it without thinking, and it almost always does more harm than good.

America is toxic for everyone who disagrees right now, but it could be made so much better if some of us just listened and thought a little bit. God knows it’s difficult not to default to our assumptions, and I still have trouble with it. There are people who fit the stereotypes on each side, this is true. But more often than not you’ll find your “worst foe” just sees things a bit different, and isn’t really the horrible monster you thought they might be.

How many alarms do you set in the morning? I’ve not necessarily done research on it, but I imagine a lot of people set one or two. Some mornings I set more than others; on the mornings of important tests, for example, I’ll set an additional one across the room to avoid accidentally hitting “stop” instead of “snooze” on my main alarm. The point here being the more alarms I set, the less likely I am to screw up and oversleep. Sometimes I get so paranoid about oversleeping and hitting “stop” that I set too many, and it just gets annoying and unnecessary.
I mention this to introduce the concept of legalism, which is defined as “excessive adherence to a law or formula”. You may have heard of this before in the context of the Pharisees, who are the textbook example of ridiculous adherence to the law. (Let’s be real–they were so extreme they told God himself that he was breaking their law. I mean, I guess you have to admire their audacity?)
While reading the Rule of St. Benedict, legalism was a concept that consistently struck me. He just has so many! They seemed to go against the very concept of Christianity–that our God is a loving God, full of forgiveness. The most suspect rules to me were three particular ones: “Of Those Who Commit a Fault in the Oratory”, “Of Those Who Fail in Any Other Matters”, and “Whether a Monk Should Receive Letters or Anything Else”. The first two talked about those who made mistakes. However minor, if you messed up the daily reading, cooking, cleaning, et cetera, adults must immediately humble themselves before everyone and make satisfaction or else endure a greater punishment. And what of children? “But let children be beaten for such a fault.”
But however severe, there is a clear-cut difference in St. Benedict’s rules and those of the Pharisees. It rests in where they are based: what are the motivations? The Pharisees motivation were so they could be the very best. They wanted God to lavish praise on them for how good they were, and put down others who weren’t as pure. We can see this in Jesus’s parable of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector.
Benedict’s motivations were almost exactly the opposite. If you truly take the time to read them all, you can see that they are about humility. He sought to make sure no monks thought of themselves first, ever. Ultimately I find that I agree with the value he places on humility, but not how to go about it. He has people forsaking everything, and that may be something you need to do. As for me? I can show humility to God by living out the gifts and blessings I have.
No need to punish myself like Dobby the house-elf.

The Honors day on Saturday was way more entertaining and informative than I thought it would be. The first speaker was super interesting–especially regarding the news that’s recently come out about dark matter and dark energy. I was also really interested in the study on how coffee can affects weight–even though there were no results, I honestly really want to see how they turn out.

One that resonated the most with me was the talk on the redheaded woodpeckers. (There’s an obvious joke to be made here about how I’m a redhead, so fire away.) This one really caught my attention because the topic of species endangerment and extinction has always been something I’ve thought about and researched.

The talk was about how the population of redheaded woodpeckers was in decline, and what different factors meant for a population. Factors considered were the number of dead trees, the number of dead limbs, the percentage of canopy cover, tree size, the percentage of oaks, the percentage of red oaks, and the percentage of white oaks. Ultimately it was found that canopy cover, dead limbs, and the types of oaks seemed to matter the most.

Why were the redheaded woodpeckers declining in the first place though? Their natural habitat, the savanna, has been rapidly disappearing. Only 0.01% of the original midwest savannas remain. This has resulted in said 70% decline since 1966.

This phenomena gives way to a disturbing fact that not a lot of us are aware of.

Earth’s history is marred with occurrences that we refer to as “extinction events”. The one that immediately comes to mind for most people is the Cretaceous-Paleogene, otherwise known as the extinction of the dinosaurs(commonly thought to be the result of a comet, asteroid, or meteor). But there are plenty more that are often forgot. In fact, the Cretaceous-Paleogene Extinction isn’t even the biggest in our history.

That honor would go to the Great Permian Extinction, also cleverly known as “The Great Dying”. No one is really sure what caused this event–after all, it happened hundreds of millions of years ago, and the Earth was vastly different. But we do know that, whatever it was, it killed 96% of all marine species and 70% of all land-dwellers. Recovery of those species on land took much longer than after any other extinction event. So much biodiversity was lost that full recovery took upwards of 10 million years.

Why do I mention these events? Because the redheaded woodpeckers may simply be a victim of another mass extinction event that is happening right now. Behold, the sixth mass extinction: the Holocene Extinction Event. Estimates on the severity have calculated that the current rate of species extinction is 10 to 100 times higher than any other mass extinction yet.

“We have unleashed a mass extinction event, the sixth in roughly 540 million years, wherein many current life forms could be annihilated or at least committed to extinction by the end of this century.”

A terrifying quote, no? It’s from The World Scientists’ Warning to Humanity: a Second Notice, and multinational statement asserting the existence of this Holocene Extinction.

And unlike other major extinction events, we are perfectly aware of what is causing this mass tragedy: us.

All it takes is looking at habitat of the redheaded woodpecker.

Some kids really are monsters, right? But what about babies, those that are too young to really, actively make ethical decisions? Some sects of Christianity, in an effort to prevent a baby from going to Hell should it die, would baptize the kid early in life. Others just assume that an innocent child will go to Heaven. (Side note: the validity of infant baptism is a whole different argument.) After all, what type of God damns those that don’t know better? But does this assumption conflict with the idea of original sin?

Saint Augustine writes about how he believes infants are sinful creatures from birth. He argues that they care only for themselves, evidenced by the way that selfishness is something we try to un-learn as we grow up. If this selfishness that babies exhibit wasn’t a sin, then why would it be something that a good person doesn’t display? “Children are innocent only because they do not yet have any physical strength, their minds are not innocent…as he watched another baby being fed at the same breast, his face turned white with resentment”. Augustine discusses his reasoning and gives an example for it.

To pull a bit of Freud into this, Augustine’s theology seems to follow the idea of the id, a personality component that seeks only to please our desires. Freud says that the kids of this age only have their id developed when it comes to personality. As a result, they just demand things all the time: the crying, the jealousy, the face “white with resentment”…it all lines up. Certainly the idea that infants are only selfish beings is no unique idea. So how should we interpret this? It’s not an exact science, unfortunately. There will be absolutely no consensus when it comes to these things. But I’ll entertain with my position.

I believe that, rather than babies being evil creatures going to Hell, Augustine is simply discussing the concept and the overarching nature of original sin. Everyone is born into sin–that is an unarguable fact about Christianity. He was, I was, and you were. But babies don’t know any better. They aren’t actively trying to act against God. Certainly, the fall started us off as a race that acts against God, but Christ changed and will change that. He died to atone our sins, and if we truly are doing our best to live a Godly life and seek forgiveness, we will find it. That is where I believe babies come in. They are, technically speaking, doing their best to live a Godly life. Yeah, they don’t know what God is and what sin is, but pretty much all babies* exist in this same state of ignorance. It’s all they can do–and so, despite the state of original sin, I believe that babies are forgiven because no matter what, the selfish state is unchangeably how they are.

Obviously you’ll have your own opinion, and mine isn’t completely airtight. What’s the point at which this forgiveness becomes something they must seek out? Jesus didn’t talk about baby salvation, did he? Do we have to baptize to get this “baby insurance”? A lot of uncertainties remain, but I’d like to leave you with another. This parting question is somewhat related to the concept of salvation at hand.

What is the salvation of isolated people? There are so many, throughout history, who have literally never encountered the idea of Christianity. They have an inborn ignorance much like babies–the difference is that this is never repealed. Even then, there is the issue of people before Christianity and those after Christianity. Is there a difference between the salvation of the ancient Native Americans and that of the Sentinelese? The ancient Native Americans existed before Christianity and were never near to any Abrahamic religion, while the Sentinelese exist in complete isolation to this day. That’s right–it’s 2018 and these people have had no contact with the outside world. There’s more “uncontacted peoples” than you think–give it a look, it’s extremely interesting simply from a factual perspective. So what of their salvation? Are those who mean well getting damned because of things beyond their control?

*There are, in fact, some babies that are superintelligent and exist with the cognitive capacity of geniuses. A documentary was done on them in 1999, along with a follow-up in 2004. An exclusive TV series on these fascinating children was announced in 2011. Check it out!

One of the worst things that one could do is make sweeping assumptions about people based on their identity. It makes a person that comes off as hateful and stubborn. But stereotypes permeate our society, and we make snap judgements based on them all the time. From the very moment we meet someone we’re judging them–their clothes, their hair, their body–we can’t help it.

One of the things that most often gets stereotyped is religion. Take a moment and search “why are Christians so” in Google. The results are…not fun to read. Being judgmental and irritating seem to be unfortunate and malicious stereotypes that often mar the Christian faith, at least in America. Seeing the results can make us cry foul–we aren’t bad people, that’s the opposite of what I, as a Christian, am–but this exercise is twofold.

Like it or not, stereotypes are based in truth. And how often do we find ourselves at odds with entire groups of people? Members of other religions, of a different political party, even of a different branch of Christianity…we judge and dislike them. I’m not innocent of it, and you probably aren’t either. People assume Christian=judgmental jerk because that’s how we can come off. We do the exact same thing that they are doing to us.

But the other point I make with this is to demonstrate that religious stereotyping is a thing. One of the most common victims of this is the religion of Islam. People sometimes assume that Muslims are violent terrorists…because unfortunately there’s a fair amount out East that are. But like the judgmental Christian, it is foolish to paint any one group of people with a single brush.

There seem to be warring factions when it comes to the religion of Islam: that it is a religion of peace, and that it is a religion that will always be based in violence. Often, those who would say Islam is violent turn around and claim Christianity is a religion of peace. So why not put both under the microscope? Let’s compare the two based on their holy texts.

Right away, it is striking how similar the language in the two (the Bible and the Quran) can be. The sometimes flowery words used to describe God, and the discussions of grace–a novice in both might think they are the same book. But what do they say about peace? Looking at both the Bible and the Quran, they seem to contradict. There are some points in the Quran that talk about peace, and how Muslims should simply ignore those who do not agree with them. There is a passage about how other monotheistic religions are “people of the book” and should be left alone. But other passages talk about how unbelievers should meet the sword–they that are called infidels.

The same can be found in the Bible. The Old Testament, frankly, is something of a bloodbath. The Israelites kill their enemies on the command of God, and God is frequently described as jealous. On the flipside, it is also often remarked about how God has an unconditional love for all. Jesus himself came to bring a message of peace. The answer to this contradiction is fairly simple: the Old Testament, Christians claim, is “outdated”. The New Testament is like an update, and the Old Testament is just to show where we came from. This is a perfectly legitimate interpretation and response, and is widely accepted by Christians. Could you make the same context argument for Islam? Of course you could–you could say that the passages are a product of the times and nowadays only the peaceful ones “apply”. This, along with a Christian’s view on peace, are entirely based on a personal interpretation of the text we have.

So are these religions based on peace? The result of examination brings up no clear answer. You could argue based on history–of which both religions possess a violent one. The Muslim conquest of Europe and the Crusades will not be forgotten anytime soon. You could argue based on a stark reading of the texts–which will bring up contradicting answers. You could argue based on interpretations of the text–which opens up a flowchart of possibilities. There’s no satisfying answer to this question and it will vary based on who you ask.

What do these differences among members of the same factions show us? It brings us right back to the beginning of this post: don’t judge someone based on a single fact about them. We could all really get along much better, right?

People have been pursuing mystery and higher knowledge for longer than history has recorded it. This applies to several areas that generally fit in three categories: things in the world, things beyond the world, and the world itself. Why else would we propel ourselves across the vast Atlantic Ocean in hunks of wood, with only a few instruments and someone we really have to trust to guide? Why else would we, having seen all the Earth, strap ourselves into metal tubes and explode ourselves beyond the sky, trusting we don’t immediately come hurtling back to the ground? We, as a species, have an insatiable curiosity. We’re always seeking knowledge. But, surprise surprise, there is no species consensus on the best way to do that.

Plato and Aristotle, though they disagreed on a fair amount of things, both put knowledge on an earthly sphere. Basically, through means revolving around the Earth (whether by learning from others or learning from direct observation of the world), we theoretically can achieve an endgame. Achieving this leads to happiness and fulfillment in the world–but for some, it is just impossible. If, according to Plato, you are anything less than a multi-disciplined dynamo that somehow doesn’t get drunk on power, you may find yourself wanting. Aristotle is even more blunt: the poor, the ugly, and the naturally stupid will never really find happiness. It’s impossible. Quite the outlook, huh?

It sounds a bit ridiculous, but think about it: how many people do you know that are truly happy, that have truly achieved full knowledge? (Reminder: stay on a secular level with me here, folks.) They surmised that it is unattainable…because it is. Disclaimer: This is, or course, a gross oversimplification of their works (as most blog posts where I have to get to the point will be) but the general idea is this earthly, experience-based knowledge. That’s what we work towards, and what some (most) will never get. Platonic and Aristotelian epistemology is a difficult thing.

Here’s where Paul comes in…three hundred words later. He had his own idea of epistemology that introduced validity to a different type of knowledge: a relational knowledge, specifically with the Christian God. Paul is always mentioning God’s truth and his hidden mystery, of which knowing about is his understanding of the endgame. We can tentatively equate a revelation of God’s truth for Paul to the definition our philosophers have of happiness (I say tentatively because while they are not the same thing, if you were to draw out equations they’d both be behind the equal signs).

So what is this relational knowledge? It is a personal relationship with God, something that grows along side your experiential knowledge of the world and intertwines with it once you have faith. You can have experiential knowledge of the world before faith in God, of course, but this relational knowledge begins when the relationship itself begins. You see the world in a new light.

Think of it this way (and my brothers and sisters with bad vision will totally relate): you’re walking through the world, and you can observe it fine. There’s a tree, a pond, and a raccoon that looks a bit less than pleasant. You know of these things…but you have bad vision. It’s all a bit blurry and you’re trying to figure out if there’s more, but you’ll never really know. Next, God comes into your life. He’s essentially your eye doctor, and gives you a pair of glasses that will help you see. The glasses are this relational knowledge, and with them we can see our experiential knowledge totally different. This relationship with God (or these glasses from the optometrist) have made everything clearer. (Sidebar, because this has plenty of length already: I remember when I first got my glasses and could suddenly pick out individual leaves on trees. For ten years of my life I hadn’t seen those leaves unless I was really close to the tree! Both the glasses and the relationship with God make the world so much more different–brighter, and dare I say more hopeful?)

It isn’t a perfect analogy but it hits the points I need it to. Relational knowledge is the lens we see experimental knowledge through once we get with God. These revelation-brand glasses were what Plato and Aristotle were missing–they saw the world as is, when there was a whole layer just beyond a veil.

Faith is one of the most powerful things in the world. I say this because Christianity has managed to last solely on faith for a couple thousand years now. No small feat, I think, especially considering there is a vast gamut of things that can shake faith to its very core.

One of the most notable of these things is death. The defeat of death and the eternal soul are the very basis of the Christian faith–and yet, so often, it the very thing that snuffs it out.

Enter Gregory of Nyssa. Gregory is a well-known figure in the early church (though, interestingly enough, this didn’t come about until roughly the 1950s). He is revered as one of the Cappadocian Fathers, in addition to being a saint. At the time of On the Soul and Resurrection, Gregory’s brother Basil had just died. He seeks out his sister Macrina for consolation, only to discover that she too is on her deathbed. All in all? Rough period for Gregory.

Here’s the interesting part: this saint, this revered church father, begins to doubt the eternity of the soul. He worries that Basil is gone for good, and soon Macrina will be too. He has misgivings about the very core of Christianity!

Doubt is something that can seem foolish and weak to Christians who have known nothing else but childlike faith. They hear that someone is doubting the gospel (or even outright turning away from it) and scoff about how that person is much less smart than they. But doubt really is something you don’t know the power of until it slaps you square in the face. I can speak firsthand to this: I won’t go into detail since I believe that qualifies as a personal and unrelated tangent, but it was (and sorta still is) a murky part of my life.

But this doubt makes Gregory aggressive, theologically speaking at least. He attacks the Christian idea that the soul is eternal with two main points: if the soul is with the body than it must die with the body, and if it is not part of the body then it cannot exist since there is no other place it could be. Macrina rebuffs him, saying that the soul doesn’t have to be made of the same stuff as the body at all. It is just a bit beyond out comprehension. We must understand this and have faith.

Gregory and Macrina dialogue about the soul for a bit longer, until Gregory is satisfied. He then turns to resurrection itself, and the doubts and questions he possesses regarding that. His questions are as follows:

He wonders how the body is restored, since if it were the same as before that’d be a bad thing, and if it were different it wouldn’t really be us. He wonders at what stage the body would be restored, and whether the old would suffer for the choices of the younger. He wonders if we will be resurrected along with the parts that we won’t need any more, and how foolish that would be. Macrina rebuffs these once more, and assures him that the resurrection will happen as God originally intended humans to be–like we were in Eden.

Just have faith, and put your trust in God.

It’s easier said than done, of course. Blind faith is extraordinarily difficult.

But despite this, Christianity has made it this far. And there has to be a reason for that, right?