Deef's Net

I had an “I’m glad I’m not Catholic” moment during church on Sunday.

In some variants on Christianity, grace is imparted through such things as taking communion or getting baptized — rather than being symbolic, your salvation depends on eating the bread, drinking the wine, and getting wet in some form.

Some would call this a pretty low barrier to entry. It’s hard to mess up eating a cracker or something that in most other circumstances would be considered a bread crumb.

And yet, I managed, through an act of sheer dextrous incompetence, to drop the body of Christ when I was supposed to be eating it in remembrance of him.

It was a very clear reminder that it’s by grace that we’re saved, and not by works, so that no man can boast… even in something as simple and straightforward as eating, which you’d think most of us would have figured out by this age.

And Samuel said to Saul, “The Lord sent me to anoint you king over his people Israel; now therefore listen to the words of the Lord. Thus says the Lord of hosts, ‘I have noted what Amalek did to Israel in opposing them on the way when they came up out of Egypt. Now go and strike Amalek and devote to destruction all that they have. Do not spare them, but kill both man and woman, child and infant, ox and sheep, camel and donkey.’” (1 Samuel 15:1-3)

…

And Saul defeated the Amalekites from Havilah as far as Shur, which is east of Egypt. And he took Agag the king of the Amalekites alive and devoted to destruction all the people with the edge of the sword. But Saul and the people spared Agag and the best of the sheep and of the oxen and of the fattened calves and the lambs, and all that was good, and would not utterly destroy them. All that was despised and worthless they devoted to destruction. (1 Samuel 15:7-9)

…

And Samuel came to Saul, and Saul said to him, “…I have performed the commandment of the Lord.” And Samuel said, “What then is this bleating of the sheep in my ears and the lowing of the oxen that I hear?” Saul said, “They have brought them from the Amalekites, for the people spared the best of the sheep and of the oxen to sacrifice to the Lord your God, and the rest we have devoted to destruction.” (1 Samuel 15:13-15)

…

And Samuel said, “Has the Lord as great delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices, as in obeying the voice of the Lord? Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, and to listen than the fat of rams.” (1 Samuel 15:22)

But look at what happens seven chapters later, and especially the similar wording:

And [Saul] the king said, “You shall surely die, Ahimelech [the priest], you and all your father’s house.” … And Nob, the city of the priests, he put to the sword; both man and woman, child and infant, ox, donkey and sheep, he put to the sword. (1 Samuel 22:16,19)

Saul had been rejected by God, and he certainly brought about his own fall in trying to protect himself from David, who wasn’t even hunting him. Whoever wrote 1 Samuel clearly knew it, and the choice of wording only emphasizes how far Saul had gone.

Since I moved into my new office in May, I’ve made three attempts to do my morning Bible reading at work, usually because I’m expecting a delivery or a service technician to come at some point during the morning.

It’s worth noting that this area is normally extremely quiet. I feel bad sometimes for having the loudest equipment of all the tenants (folding machines), but nobody’s complained or given me nasty looks.

However, each of these three times, some loud and distracting noise has prevented me, at least for a time:

1. One of the tenants parked their dog next to a tree outside my window. Said dog wasn’t terribly happy about this, and proceeded to bark straight for about two hours. Just when I started to acclimate to the dog, the upstairs tenant started vacuuming immediately above my head.

2. The lawncare folks had an all-day weeding and mowing session.

3. Tribal drumming. I kid you not. I’m listening to it right now. From the chiropractor’s office upstairs. This is Vermont, not exactly the home of great numbers of Native Americans!

In a letter that I’m proofreading (containing a conversion story):

My thesis topic was about the restriction of Christianity, that if people believe in God, they have savior restrictions in their brain and thus … [do] not have any freedom.

I’m pretty sure he meant “severe” instead of “savior”. :-) But a sermon series on “savior restrictions” could be interesting!

MLF brought up the story of the temple tax this morning at church. It’s a short one, tucked in Matthew between the transfiguration and the argument between the disciples about who’s the greatest, so it’s easy to gloss over. I love the story, though:

When they came to Capernaum, the collectors of the half-shekel tax went up to Peter and said, “Does your teacher not pay the tax?” He said, “Yes.” And when he came into the house, Jesus spoke to him first, saying, “What do you think, Simon? From whom do kings of the earth take toll or tax? From their sons or from others?” And when he said, “From others,” Jesus said to him, “Then the sons are free. However, not to give offense to them, go to the sea and cast a hook and take the first fish that comes up, and when you open its mouth you will find a shekel. Take that and give it to them for me and for yourself.” — Matthew 17:24-27

It’s packed with good stuff. I don’t think the setup was necessarily a test like the question of paying taxes to Caesar — we’re not told that it was a setup, and Jesus doesn’t seem to respond as if it were (when that happens, he usually stymies them).

Nevertheless, Peter answers without thinking, saying that of course Jesus pays the tax. He’s had a rough couple of chapters.

And when he (Peter) came into the house, Jesus spoke to him first, saying, “What do you think, Simon? From whom do kings of the earth take toll or tax? From their sons or from others?” And when he said, “From others,” Jesus said to him, “Then the sons are free.”

We get a little prophet moment — “Jesus spoke to him first.” Just a little nudge. Maybe Jesus was in earshot, or even next to Peter when the tax collector asked his question. It doesn’t really matter, and we’re not told; read it as you will. I’m more inclined to believe the former, since they didn’t pay the tax right away, which you’d expect to happen if he was present.

In understanding Jesus’ question, it’s important to note that this was the temple tax, not Roman taxes. Does a king tax his own children in his kingdom, or does he tax others? Others, of course. Why would you tax yourself?

Likewise with the temple. In such a subtle way (especially when compared with the transfiguration, which happened at the beginning of this chapter), Jesus has just made yet another claim to divinity.

“However, not to give offense to them, go to the sea and cast a hook and take the first fish that comes up, and when you open its mouth you will find a shekel. Take that and give it to them for me and for yourself.”

This is the main reason I don’t think the tax collector’s question was meant as a test. Jesus spent quite a lot of time offending people by healing the blind and lame, raising the dead, and casting out demons. But here he doesn’t want to cause offense.

But rather than pay a half-shekel from such money as they had (another of the gospels says that they had money), he tells Peter to do something absurd — similar to when he appeared to the disciples when they were out fishing after his resurrection. In that case, they were out in a fishing boat, and were catching nothing. Jesus calls out to them from the shore and suggests that they cast their net on the other side of the boat. Just picture with me all of the disciples, scratching their heads, looking over one side of the boat. On the other side are 153 fish, heads poking out of the water, making googly-eyed fish faces at the disciples. That’s more or less what would have been necessary for his suggestion to work.

Anyway, in this case, imagine what Peter must have thought as he was going out to catch the fish. He’s declared Jesus to be the son of the living God, and just saw him in some semblance of his divine appearance at the transfiguration. Now, not only does Jesus teach that he’s exempt from the temple tax as the son of the God of the temple, but without being asked, and without any fanfare, he gives Peter another sign from heaven of his divinity, just after the religious folks so loudly demanded one and were turned down.

And, as an added touch, the fish with a taste for shiny metal would have exactly enough for both of them. Peter wouldn’t have to fend for himself.

A wonderful story.

This page has gotten enough outside traffic that I decided to take it down. I haven’t researched what I wrote here, and don’t want to be considered an authority on the matter, since I’m not.

Please check with your pastor or other wise Christians for an answer to the question of what 30 pieces of silver would be worth in today’s terms — is it a pittance, or a lordly sum? Either way, our reaction can give us a good deal of insight into our own motivations and faith.

Are there any out there? Christine, at least, hasn’t had any luck finding any, and she’s taking/taken courses in chemistry and psychology, where there were plenty of people who espoused the view as being obvious and without contest, but who were unable to defend it in any way other than to say that it’s obvious and uncontestable (hardly a convincing argument).

I admittedly haven’t looked very hard for evolutionists, but I certainly haven’t found any who’ve put time into thinking it through.

Are you one? If so, let me know, so we can reason it through together. But first, make sure you meet the following criteria:

• You must not be accepting the theory of evolution by faith alone, blindly.

• You must be able to provide reasonable arguments for the theory of evolution. Skip the pretty monkey-to-man diagrams found in high school textbooks unless you have further documentation demonstrating convincing links between the various reference points, rather than isolated bone fragments.

• You must be willing to avoid dropping to the level of name-calling and personal attacks. I’ve seen a number of debates between Christian and not-Christian “academics,” and the not-Christian has unfailingly resorted to personal attacks when confronted with a reasoned argument. Don’t do that.

• You must be willing and able to write in readily understandable English, and not hide behind arbitrarily excessive pseudoacademic obfuscation (a.k.a. big words). Language suitable for someone with a good college degree is fine, but if you can’t explain it when needed, you have no argument.

• You must be able to provide and explain your theory of the origin of the universe. Just saying “Big Bang” isn’t enough — you need to provide some reasonable explanation of how nothing can explode and produce everything, if in fact that’s your theory.

• You don’t need to know everything. Both of us will have the right (and possibly the expectation) to research answers to the other’s challenges.

For my part, I’m no expert on anything, but the whole theory of evolution seems utterly absurd — a crutch, if you will, to help explain away some behavior that we may or may not like, but silly when examined under the lens of reason and science.

Since that’s almost exactly the charge that’s leveled against Christianity these days, I would expect that it could result in an engaging and enlightening E-Mail conversation.

But first, there has to be someone who’s willing and qualified to accept the challenge.

Wondering how to do it? Here’s an article that I liked:

Simple Steps to Solid Study

If morning people only realized the types of spiritual conversations that seem to only happen after midnight, there’d probably be fewer of them. On the other hand, I understand that there’s this super-bright moon thing that warms up the earth while I sleep, and that it’s worth seeing…

(This speaking as someone who, believe it or not, can happily go either way. I just can’t do both, and currently have the freedom to choose one over the other.)

‘Praying for particular things’, said I, ‘always seems to me like advising God how to run the world. Wouldn’t it be wiser to assume that He knows best?’ ‘On the same principle’, said he, ‘I suppose you never ask a man next to you to pass the salt, because God knows best whether you ought to have salt or not. And I suppose you never take an umbrella, because God knows best whether you ought to be wet or dry.’ ‘That’s quite different,’ I protested. ‘I don’t see why,’ said he. ‘The odd thing is that He should let us influence the course of events at all. But since He lets us do it in one way I don’t see why He shouldn’t let us do it in the other.’ — C.S. Lewis, Scraps, in God in the Dock, p. 217.