Jan

15

Rethinking Divine Forgiveness: Postscript

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tree-of-forgiveness2.jpg [[ Read Part I ]]

[[ Read Part II ]]

Based on what I outlined previously, I can imagine that a few objections might be raised to my conclusions (as unofficial as they might be...).

First, we might follow this logic:

  • If God has already forgiven humanity for its sinfulness;
  • and, in fact, the very coming of Christ is the great revelation of this reality;
  • why, then, would we be concerned with the notion of asking for forgiveness?

That is, if our notions of "penalty" were really just confounded all along and we are not actually under any impending punishment for our sins, why the biblical injunctions to "confess" our sins?

I think this is a good question, but I also think it's imminently answer-able within the structure I have suggested. As before, however, it requires getting beyond the notions of "penalty" and "requirement" that have plagued our thinking about forgiveness and atonement.

In these paradigms, the act of "asking" for forgiveness is, in actuality, a request that the presumed "laws" of justice be put on hold. After all, transgression--within a penal model--necessitates satisfaction, whether in act or consequence. Therefore, the plea for forgiveness is a hope against hope that just maybe "this time" justice and the requirements of the law will be suspended.

However, as we see in the consummation of the theologies built on this model, no such suspension of justice is possible. Rather, these theologies orbit precisely around the precept that the law and its consequences must necessarily be satisfied; therefore, God must do something within the divine being whereby the self-created and self-maintained requirements of divine justice might be satisfied through the punishment of Godself in Christ's death on the cross.

So we see that even within these "classical" models of thought, the notion of "asking" for forgiveness is as equally absurd as one might accuse my suggestion of being. After all, if the sanctification of divine justice is accomplished in divine isolation through an act of Godself in the chastisement of Christ, what room remains for the plea for the suspension of divine justice? If divine justice has been satisfied fully and finally through the timeless act of Christ's ultimate atonement, those from whose "accounts" the penalty has been expunged through Christ's substitutionary work are in no more need of "forgiveness" than those who are gratuitously forgiven by God by mere divine will and desire (which is similar to what I have argued). That is, if Christ, through his death, has "released" God from the compulsion to punish humanity for its sins, there remains no obligation for which humans might appeal that God "pass over." The request for forgiveness becomes, in effect, completely superfluous, a prayer without any meaningful content or consequence whatsoever.

The actual reason for the superfluousness of the prayer for forgiveness within the penal model, however, is that the formulation of the problem of sin and its relationship to divine/human relationships suffers from an improper orientation. In this model, the primordial problem of human sinfulness is that the same has incurred the necessary and otherwise unavoidable wrath of God, which wrath is to be understood as being primarily manifested through divine violence in the punishment of humans (although rhetorically veiled in the language of "upholding the divine, eternal, and holy law of God"). Understood as such, the ultimate desired result of "forgiveness" is that the wrath of God be averted. Forgiveness, as I mentioned before, is equivalent to the removal of the threat of divine violence and retribution against humanity for its sins against God.

This is precisely why the prayer for forgiveness within such a model is inexplicably meaningless. If the prospect of punishment is removed through Christ's substitutionary bearing of actual divine violence, the threat has been rendered entirely innocuous. "Forgiveness" has been attained through Christ's solitary work (not a request for it), and there is nothing more to be wrested from the otherwise unyielding will of the divine.

Therefore, what should we make of the numerous biblical injunctions to "confess our sins"? I would argue that these instructions are made more intelligible when we step away from penal conceptions of divine/human relationship, and pursue such conversations--as I suggested earlier--on the basis of our understanding of the relationships which we experience in our own realities.

Before, I shared the example of my relationship with my daughter to explicate my understanding of divine forgiveness. With no intention of pressing my illustration too far, let's return to this to think about the place of confession and "asking for forgiveness" in human relationships.

As I mentioned in the earlier conversation, perhaps the most fundamental character of my forgiveness for my daughter's transgressions is that it is based not on her actions, either positive or negative, but is rather rooted exclusively in my love for her. There is nothing she could do to suspend my forgiveness or love for her (as imperfect as it is), nor could she do anything to somehow "compel" me to forgive her (given a scenario in which I was unwilling to do so, which I've argued is antithetical to nature of my love for my daughter...). What must be understood, however, is that although forgiveness has the primacy in our relationship (e.g., it is the instigator of the nature of our future relationship, NOT a reaction to some manner of atonement), this does not mean that the nature of our relationship is left unchanged by her transgression. Quite to the contrary, breaches of trust, deliberate disobedience, inappropriate behavior--all of these create fractures within our relationship...fractures which must be healed in order for the relationship to be restored.

And here we come to the primordial difference between the conception of forgiveness that I am advocating and that which might be found in a penal model of atonement. In my understanding, the reality of forgiveness is NOT a release from obligation to the divine, NOR a removal of the threat of eternal punishment and dissolution. Rather, it is fundamentally a conduit to the restoration and reconciliation of humanity and God through the great Mediator Christ.

The difference between forgiveness and reconciliation, of course, is crucial to grasp. Forgiveness is a necessary variable in the act of reconciliation, for without the deliberate "passing over" of the wrong, there can be no restoration of relationship. Forgiveness, in the great drama of reconciliation, is simply the proactive outreach of the offended to the offender wherein that to which the offended might have every "right" is deliberately forfeited so that the two may become one again. It is the purposeful "letting go" of the desire or intention of seeking retribution, for the forgiving heart knows that true "justice" is found in restoration, not dissolution; is realized in recreation, not destruction.

So in the life and work of Christ, we see the true heart of the eternally loving, eternally forgiving God. Christ's advent is the great proclamation to all of human history that in spite of the ancient and yet-enduring rebellion, God's intention for humanity is not to seek vengeance and "equity" on the scales of eternal justice. Rather, Christ's disclosing of God as "Parent," the everlasting father and mother of all humanity, reveals that God desires and seeks to be reconciled to the creation. Across the epochs of space/time, the everlasting God reaches down and in and through the immanence of the Spirit of Christ, urging and pleading with the creation to return to the source and life of all. Yet the call to reconciliation and restoration is not based on a prior condition of "satisfaction" for the infinite years of open enmity toward God; rather, the offer--no--the fullness of forgiveness precedes the invitation. In Christ is revealed the consummation of God's everlasting and unconquerable love, mercy, and grace poured out upon that which God has created...a love which seeks, through the Spirit of Christ, to reconcile all of creation to God.

Therefore, in the prayer for forgiveness, we can find great release. We need not nervously depend upon our prayer to "compel" God to "pass over" our sins. God has already revealed in Christ that our sins are forgiven. Our prayer for forgiveness, then, is really for us. It is a means whereby we can acknowledge and confess our rebellion and sinfulness. It is a conduit whereby we come to grips with the gravity of our depravity, a mechanism for grasping the destruction that our hatred and violence wreaks upon a creation that God loves. When my daughter asks for my forgiveness, her request comes from a place of understanding and deep regret for her wrong. As mentioned before, this act will never "compel" me to forgive her, for my forgiveness of her has come before any confession she could ever make. Nonetheless, her's is a move toward reconciliation, a necessary step toward the restoration of our relationship.

In the same way, I believe our prayers for divine forgiveness have a similar character. Rather than pleas for escape from divine violence, they are the movements whereby we begin to enter into the reconciliation to which God's ever-preceding forgiveness calls us. By setting aside our sinfulness and choosing the grace of God, we begin--even in the smallest of ways--to complete the divine embrace which God has forever begun in and through the Spirit of Christ in creation.

 


Jan

15

Rethinking Divine Forgiveness: Part II

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tree-of-forgiveness1.jpg

[[ Read Part I ]]

Without a doubt, becoming a parent has revolutionized how I think about God's love. Before my daughter was born, the concept of God as "Father" had a very one-dimensional nature to it as I filtered this metaphor through my own experiences of being a son. However, when my daughter was born, God as "Father" suddenly blossomed into a much fuller concept for me, for not only could I think of this in terms of God as "Parent," but now my own experience was impacted as God, as "Father," began to have meaning for how I am a "father" as well.

And it is precisely these experiences which make popular theology about sin, atonement, and forgiveness so unpalatable and inexplicable to me. Earlier, I described briefly the structure of atonement as envisioned in popular theology, complete with the notions of "penalty," "guilt," and what-ever-else. What I find so striking is that, from a parental perspective, these concepts have absolutely no meaning to me when I apply them to my relationship with my daughter.

For example, consider the notion of "penalty." Although I, as "father," do give "laws" that my daughter should follow, her periodic transgression of them do not EVER produce within me a blood-lust to punish her for her behavior. And while there are appropriate times for me to correct her behavior through negative consequences, there is nothing within me that feels compelled to punish her in order to "balance" some incorporeal scales of justice within our family. In light of this, I have a hard time reconciling theological belief that would envision God--as Father--demanding that which I as a deeply flawed and imperfect father would never dream of demanding of my own child.

But most striking to me is how forgiveness plays in all of this drama. Although I am by no means a perfect "forgiver," I am, nonetheless, capable of forgiving my daughter for each and every wrong that she does--without exception. She has never done anything, nor can I imagine her EVER doing anything that I would not forgive. But here's the issue: my forgiveness of my daughter is not based on anything that she does. She does not have to somehow "make up" the transgression to me through some arbitrary number of obedient deeds. Nor does she have to be punished in order for me to feel released to forgive her. In fact, as wild as it sounds to ears deafened by theological obfuscation, my daughter does not even have to ASK me for forgiveness. Quite to the contrary, before she could do, ask, or say anything to me, my forgiveness is already reaching out to her, seeking to embrace her and restore our relationship. The bottom line is this: my forgiveness of my daughter is not based on anything she does or does not do; it not based on "justice" being served through punishment; and it is not based on some requirement being met whereby I am "freed" to forgive her. No, it is based solely on my love for her, and my forgiveness necessarily precedes whatever manner of reconciliation comes to pass within our relationship.

In light of these admittedly experientially-derived ideas, my question is this: If we--as a fathers and mothers who are "evil" and imperfect--forgive our sons and daughters in this way, why is our understanding of God's perfect love and forgiveness not informed by this same character of love and grace? If we exhibit such freedom and unconditionality in our love and forgiveness of our children, why do we restrict the nature of God's forgiveness by such curious and convoluted theological structures?

So if I can be so bold, let me offer a reimagining of the drama of forgiveness and atonement as seen through this different lens.

In this creative theological space, we see the primal invasion of creation by God--the Incarnation--as the great trumpeting of the eternality of divine forgiveness. Rather than being "born to die" a fundamentally utilitarian death for the "opening" of the divine to the possibility of forgiveness, the coming of God in the person of Christ is, in fact, the great pronouncement that God has chosen grace and mercy, not punishment and penalty. Christ, as the great Revelator, is the embodiment of divine favor and forgiveness, incarnating in his own person the eternal reality of divine love and compassion for humanity. Again, his is not a mission to somehow enable God to overcome ancient animosity for human transgressions through the punishment and chastisement of Godself; to the contrary, the very arrival of Christ in the midst of human history is the heralding of the grand promise that God has already forgiven--in this, Christ is both the mechanism (as reconciler) and messenger of this profound gospel.

In this great drama, then, the cross loses many of the connotations attached to it while gaining a richer set of metaphors. Since forgiveness is no longer something to be pried out of God's hands by Christ's bloody corpse, the strange and distant notions of "penalty" and "divine punishment" that are so often latched on to our theologizing about the purpose of the cross begin to vanish. Rather than being understood as something which God plans for, or imposes upon Christ as a mechanism for the pacification of divine blood-lust for the sins of humanity, the reality shifts to something much more dreadful and, therefore, realistic. We begin to see in the cross not the rampaging anger of God, but the annihilating force of human sinfulness. We realize that the cross is not God's doing, but ours--it is our act of "gratitude" for the great promise of forgiveness heralded by Christ's coming and life among us. In the cross we see not the "justice" of God, but the true depravity of our own hearts, hearts that respond with hatred, violence, and destruction to the free and deeply gracious gift of life and reconciliation offered by the Creator in the person of Christ. In his death, Christ truly takes our sinfulness into his own person. However, this "transfer" is not for the object of deflecting divine wrath and punishment, but so that we might be freed from sin's annihilating clutches. In the cross, the full force and negation of the history of human sinfulness is gathered against Christ to serve the finishing blow in humanity's rebellion against God, but is extinguished finally and forcefully by the power of God through Christ's vindication in his resurrection to the newness of life in God. With the inevitability of self-destruction and annihilation broken forever, we are now freed, through Christ, to enter into the everlasting forgiveness and grace to which he testified in his advent, his life, and even in his death.

All told, the story of advent, atonement, and resurrection are not about "penalty" or "justice" or "punishment" or "setting things straight." Nor is it about how God "gets over" whatever divine anger and "need" for justice God is presumed to have over human sinfulness. Rather, it is simply and beautifully the unfolding of the most ancient story ever told, the grand revelation and completion of divine forgiveness poured out on God's creation. Christ's advent, life, and death are the trumpeting of the endless bounty of God's grace and mercy. They are the consummation of the free gift of God, unmerited either by human OR divine action, the eternally natural out flowing of the divine being in response to that which God has created and loves with an everlasting, unconditional, and unconquerable love.

[[ Read Postscript ]]

 


Jan

15

Rethinking Divine Forgiveness: Part I

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tree-of-forgiveness.jpg During my not-quite-eternal-but-still-15-hour return drive from Wichita to Kentucky over Christmas break, I happened to catch a radio interview of James Garlow, pastor of the ridiculously huge Skyline Wesleyan Church in sunny San Diego. On this program, Garlow was discussing his newest book, Heaven and the Afterlife, alternating between questions from the show’s host and callers to the show.


One call-in was particularly interesting. A woman, who was clearly in the midst of a significant existential crisis, asked some pointed questions about the nature of God’s forgiveness. As she described, she believed that her past sins had been forgiven when she was saved, but was worried about her chances for heaven if she at some point forgot to ask forgiveness for future sins. In other words, she wondered if God would bar the doors to heaven if she died without asking forgiveness for any unconfessed sins.

As I listened, I felt very sympathetic for this woman, for she was clearly in the midst of some significant emotional distress. I also felt very frustrated because the source of her distress was simply an inheritance of bad theology, a severe misunderstanding of the nature of humanity’s relationship to God and the fundamental nature of God’s forgiveness.

In the domain of popular (mostly Western) theology, we often sing songs about the interpersonal relationship of God and humanity, and gush about the intimacy of divine/human fellowship that can be had through faith. There are moving sermons about the deep love that God has for humanity, and hundreds of thousands of books line the shelves with self-help for finding a more "personal" relationship with the Creator. Yet despite this focus, it’s interesting: the moment the conversation turns to sin and forgiveness, suddenly all “personal” language is dropped, and much of popular theology starts down an entirely different linguistic course.

Without question, the most common language used to describe sin, forgiveness, atonement, etc., is that of the legal and penal disciplines. But it’s not only “language”--entire theological structures have been built around this language (or perhaps visa-versa…), and this nomenclature has worked its way into the popular theology of the masses.

So what does this theology say? Well, let’s start with sin. In a nutshell, God is pictured as the divine and perfect law giver. Humans, as created by God, are compelled to follow God's holy law. Failure to follow the law--sin--is punishable by God. Of course, it is well understood that all humans have sinned, so the fate of all humans is death and eternal punishment. As God is unwilling (or unable) to forgo punishing the law-transgressing-humans, this theology envisions that provision for escape from the deserved punishment is made through Christ who, in a not-terribly-well-understood exchange, incurs the “penalty” of all (or at least some…) human sin, bearing within his own person the divine blood-lust for the punishment of sin. Now that humans (or at least some of them…) are no longer under the threat of punishment, they can resume their happy songs about the love and intimacy of God, for God is no longer a threat to their existential being. It is this the removal of the threat of divine punishment, then, that we understand as "forgiveness."

While dozens of books could be (and have been) written outlining the tremendous theological and logical holes in this conception of atonement, the most striking to me is that is ignores completely the primal place that forgiveness has in describing how humans are reconciled to God.

According to most common sense and technical definitions, core to the concept of “forgiveness” is the idea of “remission,” “passing over,” “cancellation,” etc. For example, when a financial debt is “forgiven,” the record of the debtor’s obligation is wiped out. When a court of law “pardons” a convict, punishment for the perpetrator’s crime is commuted. When a friend “forgives” the transgression of another friend, the mistake or offense is excused and the record of the wrong is not held against the offending friend. Whether it is financial, legal, or interpersonal, the concept of forgiveness has a remarkable uniformity: the one forgiven is absolved of fault, obligation, or punishment.

In the popular theological system I described, however, the concept of forgiveness is poignantly absent. After all, even though it is suggested that humans are absolved of the guilt and just punishment of their sins through Christ's "substitutionary" work, this absolution is not based on a removal or remission of the penalty. Quite to the contrary, absolution is granted to humanity PRECISELY because the punishment has been transferred to and actualized upon someone else--Godself, in the case of God’s punishment of Christ for humanity’s sin on the cross.

Some, of course, might balk at this and argue that even though the penalty for human sinfulness has been transferred, the forgiveness of humanity by God is still real in that it is God’s free choice to transmute the punishment to Christ. While there might be a small window of opportunity to make this argument, it feels incredibly disingenuous. For example, let’s imagine that I have accumulated a million dollars in debt from my credit card company. Now consider that the credit card company *graciously* agrees to completely forgive my debt--the one catch being that they will transfer my entire debt to a family member, friend, or complete stranger. Is that really forgiveness? What of the prisoner on death row? Imagine that the judge removes the sentence from the condemned, but bases it on the condition that another prisoner dies in his place? Is that really forgiveness? Or what of a friend wronged? What if the offended friend forgives by merely transferring the anger and revenge to another friend? Is that really forgiveness? In each of these cases, what passes for "forgiveness" in certain theologies should be practically understood as something entirely opposite--within this "transaction," there is no "passing over," only a transference, a "passing on."

What I'm getting at is simply this: the concept of forgiveness that resonates naturally within each of us is decidedly absent within much of the theologizing we do about forgiveness. We erect complicated, systematic[ish], and logical[ish] structures in order to create a dogmatic structure that coheres with whatever philosophical predilections we may have. Yet when we step back from the systematics, the rhetoric, and the easy assumptions that we've all swallowed for so long, something just doesn't jive.

So how do we recapture the profundity of forgiveness, despite the theological structures behind which we tend to obscure it? I don't have perfect, or probably even great answers, but my suggestion would be to go back to the language that Jesus used when describing God.

Although Christ used a variety of adjectives to describe God, the primary and most existentially-accessible language he used was that of describing God as "Father," specifically as "his" Father. This intensely parental metaphor, in a very real sense, was itself a type for describing Christ's ultimate work in the Incarnation--bridging the life and reality of the divine to that creation which God deeply and eternally loves, revealing the limitless immanence of God within the history of humanity. And lest we think that this metaphor for the relationship of God to humanity is incapable of theological use, we have Christ himself pressing it to describe, on several occasions, how this parental relationship is to be understood in the outplaying of religious belief.

For example, consider the famous passage in Matthew 7 where Jesus compares the love of God--as Father--to the love of human fathers: "Which of you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!" (Matthew 7:9-11). In this important passage, Jesus is not simply showing that God's love--as Father--is greater than that of human parents for their children. No, even more dramatically he is emphatically stating that there is something encapsulated within the human experience that, if even in a shadowed form, reflects the actuality of the divine. In this example, Jesus proclaims that although human love is imperfect, even still it has real and meaningful parallels with the love of God. Or in another way (and perhaps more importantly), Christ suggests that what we understand of human love is in itself meaningful and profoundly instructive to how we are to think of and theologize about the love of God that Christ came to reveal.

Within this window of freedom, let me offer some thoughts I've had from personal experience that informs my understanding of God's forgiveness.
 

 


Jan

01

Favorite Albums of 2009

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lastfm-tim.jpg 2009 was a bit of a disappointment for me musically. It's not that there wasn't a ton of great music released...it's more that I allowed myself to get far to busy to truly enjoy a reasonable amount of it. This travesty is something I intend to resolve over the next year.

Anyway, of the stuff I did listen to, here's a sampling of some of my favorites.

Ironhorse - Pickin' on Modest Mouse

Ok, so technically, this was released in 2004. However, I came across it this year, so I'll count it :)

If you're not familiar with the Pickin' On series of albums, it's basically a bluegrass take on popular music. This series covers everything from Zepplin to Coldplay--very fun stuff.

This album is brilliant. I've always liked Modest Mouse AND bluegrass music, so what better combination could there be? In fact, I liked the MM/bluegrass fusion so much that I actually prefer several of the tracks off this album far better than the MM originals...

Deas Vail - Birds and Cages

I swore to myself that I would not like this album, and tried and tried to not enjoy it. However, the more I listened to it, the more I loved it.

The part of this album that I liked the most is the open way in which the production allows the songs to develop. This allows for some very subtle, yet extremely interesting transitions between verses and choruses, as well as finales to songs.

Plus, it's always interesting to takes bets on how high the vocal will get with each successive song.

Duncan Sheik - Whisper House

Duncan Sheik has always been one of those guilty pleasures that I keep around for a rainy day. Admittedly, he's not the most inspired artist, and most certainly not a terrifically compelling vocalist. However, I've always admired his story-telling, and

Whisper House does not disappoint. Written from a ghostly perspective, each track on this album hauntingly feeds off of each other, weaving together a full-album experience that is seldom encountered in contemporary music. This"experience" tackles the deep subjects of death, loss, and pain, at times mocking human perspectives of it, at times commiserating with the the frightful prospect of human mortality. Be sure to check this one out.

Emery - ...In Shallow Seas We Sail

Of all artists that I've listened to over the years, I've probably written the most about Emery. Without doubt, they are my favorite band and I am constantly amazed at their musical evolution over the years.

In this most recent release, Emery grows exponentially from "The Question" and continues the progression of their sound begun in the companion album "While Broken Hearts Prevail..." While their sound remains true to their hardcore screamo roots, it is clear that they continue to grow. Each successive album sees the band exploring new ideas while consistently improving and solidifying those things that have brought them success in the past. I'm terrifically excited to see what 2010 has to bring.

David Gray - Draw the Line

David Gray has long been a favorite. His easy flowing folk/acoustic sound is inviting, yet he is talented enough--both musically and lyrically--to separate his music from the glut of other offerings in the genre.

Draw the Line shares many similarities with older albums--the David Gray that I love is still between the lines, creating a smooth, melodic flow from track to track that makes the album a pure pleasure to listen to. However, Gray also experiments a bitwith a few of the tracks, adding yet another facet to this talented artist's already remarkable abilities. Great stuff.

Buddy & Julie Miller - Written in Chalk

Ok, admittedly Buddy & Jullie Miller do not scream "this is something that Joel would listen to and love." Nonetheless, on a recommendation from my father-in-law, I gave this album a try and absolutely loved it!

Honestly, it's difficult for me to describe why I like this album so much. Part of it, I think, is that it's easy to listen to. The production of each track is very simple, removing some of those
otherwise obnoxious over-produced songs that grate on the ears. Another reason I like it, I think, is that it's authentic. Buddy and Julie seem very transparent through each song, so listening is intimate and inviting, like sitting down in the living room with a guitar, a warm fire, and good friends.

Starflyer 59 - Dial M

Starflyer 59 has long (over 10 years) been a favorite band of mine. This most recent release is, in my opinion, the most mature and evolved offering yet. Smart lyrics and ridiculously interesting arrangements imbue every song with life and quell the doubts about the relevance of Starflyer to the post-90's music scene. It's absolutely brilliant, so don't waste anymore time and go pick this one up. You won't regret it. And if you do, it's your own fault ;)

 


Oct

15

It's Really About Us

green-recycle-img.jpg This year's Blog Action Day topic is all about climate change.  Hardly non-confrontational, right?  Depending on who you ask, you can get a variety of opinions about this subject.  Some will foam at the mouth, ranting about how humans are killing the planet and that we're all going to freeze to death, or burn up...or both.  Others, with equal rabidity, will quixotically assert that climate change is a hoax, foisted upon the minds of the gullible by political forces with nefarious agendas.

Who's right? Well, it's a difficult question.  We don't exactly have the right kinds of data from which to make accurate predictions about whatever future the current, apparent trends in climate change might bring.  Given that we have not had the opportunity to examine the effects of similar conditions on more or less equivalent celestial masses, all of the prognosticating about doom-and-gloom weather models is really quite tenuous. And on the other side of the frenzy, the sometimes intentional distortion of whatever-limited-research-we-do-have does not help provide meaningful answers.  Both approaches are not only naive, but in fact are diametrically opposed to actually getting at what is important regarding the discussion of climate change.

How so?

Let's think about this for a second. When people talk about "climate change," they generally try to couch it in language that communicates how this or that action will help or harm the planet.  It sounds nice, of course, but let's be clear: it's a lie. How do I know this? 

Because no matter who you talk to, if you probe deep enough, far beyond the rhetoric and trite talking points, you'll find that the interest is not REALLY in the planet...it's in us.   

Why are we so concerned about the planet?  Because we live on it.  So it's not really about the planet...it's about out self-focused perspective of life here on it.  In all honesty, if we're so BAD for the planet; AND if we're SO concerned for the planet's well-being; then it stands to reason that we should really embrace whatever efforts will most quickly eradicate our species. After all, if the earth has survived 4 1/2 billion odd years until now, coming through asteroid touchdowns, ice ages, and who-knows-what-else, surely a brief stint of increased carbon dioxide levels will not leave too permanent of a mark.  Once we've killed ourselves off, the earth will have a few billion good years left to recover...and I think she'll be just fine.

Now you might think this is a silly argument, and in all honesty it probably is.  However, I think it highlights nicely the absurdity of the current state of the conversation.  On all sides, people with too much emotion, not enough information (not for lack of trying, at that), and WAY too self-focused perspectives use the planet and its well-being as a vehicle for you-fill-in-the-blank-with-whatever.

If we REALLY want to talk about climate change, the first place to start is to cut the crap about the "best interests" of the planet.  Unless we manage to blow it up (which would actually be kind of cool to watch...like on the History Channel ...), the earth will probably be around quite a bit after we've finally exterminated ourselves, moved on, or transmuted to another spectral plane. So then, let's just be honest all the way around and say, once and for all, that we care about climate change SOLEY because, like all good humans, we care about saving our own skins.    

Therefore, the question remains: what about climate change?  I think it's far too soon to tell whether climate change is a helpful or harmful thing.  As with most changes, climate or otherwise, there will be winners and losers. But what if we thought about it like this?  What if climate change turns out to be a significant evolutionary catalyst for the human species, the breaking point that introduces a significant modification that lets us do things we had never dreamed were possible before?  In such a scenario, those who would oppose climate change would be demonized for intentionally trying to prevent the betterment of humanity, while those whose politics, beliefs, and behaviors had introduced the change would be hailed as heroes and saviors.  The point is, given our limited knowledge about what climate change REALLY means for the future of humanity (since that is what we're interested in), to speak with such arrogance and fury--as is the current trend--is really the absolute height of absurdity.

So on this Blog Action Day, by all means think, blog, tweet, and talk about climate change.  Just be sure that you remember that all your conversations are more than likely NOT about this fairly-pleasant-to-live-on blue and green ball hurtling around the sun, and are MOST ASUREDLY, at the core, about the fleeting moments of life that we're all desperately trying to hang on to.  Once we've all figured out our own motivations, then let's talk about climate change.

 


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/*/ About Me

Welcome to my blog. I am often asked what "Exist/Dissolve" means. Well, that is certainly a good question, and I am currently in the process of discovering the answer myself. Prima facie, it strikes me as encapsulating the existensial crisis that is our lives as finite, contingent beings. For a brief moment, we exist, and the next we dissolve into the nothingness of non-existence. From a theological perspective, it is, for me, a sort of ad hoc apologetic for resurrection - i.e., if to exist/dissolve is the human dilemma, there is nothing inherent to the person that guarantees existence, either now or "after" death. Therefore, resurrection is at the same time both the height of absurdity (for it is a notion entirely alien to the paradigm of existence to which we are naturally enculturated) and the only hope for the human to persevere beyond the pale of death.

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