1500-Year-Old Bible Discovered! Christianity Debunked! Not Exactly.
Here we go again.
I’ve been seeing it all over Facebook. The headline reads, “1,500 Year Old Bible Confirms That Jesus Christ Was Not Crucified – Vatican In Awe.” It seems startling. The only problem is, it’s not true. And, it’s nothing new. These kinds of articles that seek to undermine the veracity of the Bible have been being published for years now. Indeed, the discovery of this 1,500-year-old Bible is news that’s now better than two years old. But it’s just now hitting Facebook. And because many people are being confused by it, it’s worth a look.
The article opens:
Much to the dismay of the Vatican, an approximately 1,500 to 2,000 year old Bible was found in Turkey, in the Ethnography Museum of Ankara. Discovered and kept secret in the year 2000, the book contains the Gospel of Barnabas – a disciple of Christ – which shows that Jesus was not crucified, nor was He the Son of God, but a prophet. The book also calls apostle Paul “The Impostor.” The book also claims that Jesus ascended to heaven alive, and that Judas Iscariot was crucified in His place.[1]
Let’s separate some fact from fiction here.
“Much to the dismay of the Vatican…” The Vatican did, according to The Christian Post, make an “official request”[2] to see and study the Bible, but it was not out of dismay. Like any theological artifact, it piqued their curiosity. Many people desired to study this book.
“…an approximately 1,500 to 2,000 year old Bible…” Maybe. But probably not. There are reasons to believe this book is a forgery, probably written around AD 1500, which is, coincidentally enough, about a century after many scholars believe the Gospel of Barnabas itself was written.[3] Timothy Michael Law, a Junior Research Fellow at the Oxford Centre for Hebrew and Jewish Studies, has a nice blog on the antiquity of this Bible here.
“…the book contains the Gospel of Barnabas…” Again, maybe. But possibly not. We actually don’t know what the book contains because it has not been widely studied. The Christian Post quotes theology professor Ömer Faruk Harman who notes that people may be “disappointed to see that this copy … might have no relation with the content of the Gospel of Barnabas.”
“…which shows that Jesus was not crucified … and that Judas Iscariot was crucified in His place.” The Gospel of Barnabas does indeed purport that Judas Iscariot was crucified in Jesus’ place. But this is because this Gospel was written as an apologetic for Islam. Indeed, it prophesies the arrival of Muhammad, but, if the 15th century dating of this Gospel is correct, it does so about 800 years after Muhammad! In other words, its prophecies are really no prophecies at all, but polemical forgeries.
The line from this Facebook article that made me sigh the loudest is this one:
It is believed that, during the Council of Nicaea, the Catholic Church hand-picked the Gospels that form the Bible as we know it today; omitting the Gospel of Barnabas (among many others) in favor of the four canonical Gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.
Ever since Dan Brown’s book The Da Vinci Code, this has been a canard that just won’t die. At no time during the Council of Nicaea did the Catholic Church hand-pick any Gospels. The four Gospels we have today were already widely accepted by the Church by the time of this council. If you want to read the canons issued by the Council of Nicaea for yourself, you can check them out here. None say anything about the Gospels. Indeed, none say anything about the canon of Scripture at all.
Ultimately, even if this Turkish Bible is indeed 1,500 years old and even if it does contain the Gospel of Barnabas, the Council of Nicaea was held in AD 325, which is still before the time of this Bible. Thus, part of the reason the Council of Nicaea never considered the Gospel of Barnabas during its meetings is because there was not yet a Gospel of Barnabas to consider!
It was David Hannum, criticizing P.T. Barnum, who said, “There’s a sucker born every minute.” Don’t be suckered by this Facebook article. The Bible as we have it still stands. And on it, your faith can still stand.
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[1] “1,500 Year Old Bible Confirms That Jesus Christ Was Not Crucified – Vatican In Awe,” Moorish Harem: Man’s Greatest Accomplishments (4.28.2014).
[2] Clara Morris, “Turkey’s 1500-Year-Old, $28M Bible Linked to Gospel of Barnabas?” The Christian Post (2.23.2012).
[3] See Jan Joosten, “The Gospel of Barnabas and the Diatessaron,” Harvard Theological Review 95, no. 1 (2002).
Divorce, Remarriage, Communion, and the Catholic Church’s Existential Crisis
Credit: Wikipedia
I have to admit, I’d be in awe if I got the phone call Jaqui Lisbona did. On a Monday, a couple of weeks ago, Jaqui’s phone rang. Her husband picked it up and was greeted by a man who introduced himself as Father Bergoglio. You may know him better as Pope Francis. He asked to speak with Jaqui. Apparently, several months back, she had written a letter to the pontiff asking him if she could take Communion even though she was divorced. Apparently, her priest had been refusing her Communion for some time now according to the provisions of the Catechism of the Catholic Church:
Today there are numerous Catholics in many countries who have recourse to civil divorce and contract new civil unions … The Church maintains that a new union cannot be recognized as valid, if the first marriage was. If the divorced are remarried civilly, they find themselves in a situation that objectively contravenes God’s law. Consequently, they cannot receive Eucharistic Communion as long as this situation persists.[1]
In contradistinction to her priest’s ban, The Washington Post reports that the Pope told Jaqui “‘there was no problem’ with her taking Communion, and that he was ‘dealing with the issue’ of remarried divorcees.”[2] Predictably, this set off a firestorm of controversy with the Vatican ultimately having to respond:
Several telephone calls have taken place in the context of Pope Francis’ personal pastoral relationships. Since they do not in any way form part of the Pope’s public activities, no information or comments are to be expected from the Holy See Press Office. That which has been communicated in relation to this matter, outside the scope of personal relationships, and the consequent media amplification, cannot be confirmed as reliable, and is a source of misunderstanding and confusion. Therefore, consequences relating to the teaching of the Church are not to be inferred from these occurrences.
I like Ross Douthat’s analysis of this response: “This formulation may be technically correct, but it’s also a little bit absurd. Even in ‘private’ conversation, the Pope is, well, the Pope.”[3] Exactly. You can’t claim the Pope is the vicar of Christ on the one hand while having him contradict what other vicars of Christ before him have taught on the other.
With that being said, there is something to be commended in the stance that The Catechism of the Catholic Church, and even this woman’s priest, has taken with regard to remarried divorcees and Communion. In a world that all too readily sanctions divorce and remarriage for reasons as debase and selfish as “I’m in love with someone else and I want to marry them,” The Catechism of the Catholic Church helps to remind us of the gravity of divorce as a sin in God’s eyes.
Still, it has been interesting to watch Catholics struggle to respond to this situation. They are struggling with how to make a proper distinction between, oddly enough, the Law and the Gospel! Consider this by Pascal-Emmanuel Gobry:
The question of the divorced-remarried and the sacraments is taking up a lot of our time. How should we look at this?
One of the many confounding things about the Jesus of the Gospels is that He fulfills the law, even strengthens the law, and yet extends mercy to literally anyone who wants it, no matter how deep their transgressions, and adopts a resolutely passionate attitude with sinners. This is encapsulated by His words to the adulterous woman: “I do not condemn you. Go and sin no more.”
As with all aspects of our faith, structured with paradox as it is, the temptation is always to strengthen one side of the “equation” too much at the expense of the other … Jesus says, “I do not condemn you. Go and sin no more.” One camp will say, “He said ‘I do not condemn you’!!!!!” One camp will say, “He said ‘Go and sin no more’!!!!!” …
It seems to me that the excesses go in these ways. The progressive excess is to use mercy as a (however well-intentioned) pretext to amend the law. The conservative excess is to use the law as a (however well-intentioned pretext) to refuse mercy.
Yes, God lays down the law. But God provides infinite mercy.[4]
It sounds to me like Gobry is having the existential crisis of a Lutheran and he doesn’t even know it! He is taking seriously the full weight of God’s law against divorce on the one hand while leaning on His sweet mercy for divorcées on the other.
Gobry even seems to suspect that the partaking of Communion to a divorcée’s blessing and benefit is not as simple as a humanly contrived promise to sin no more based squarely in a person’s will:
The juridical Gordian knot here is the necessary “firm resolve” not to commit the sin again. But it is not licentious to note that for all of us this firm resolve will be imperfect. Obviously, we don’t want to throw out the baby with the bathwater. But if we search our hearts, do we not find that “firm resolve” is drawn in shades of gray, rather than black or white? …
God’s law is as hard as His mercy is infinite. And none of us are righteous under the law. And none of us, if we are honest, can even be said to want to be righteous under the law, in every single dimension of our life. But, particularly in these delicate and demanding aspects of sexual life and life situations, the grace of wanting to want God’s will is already very precious and important. And is it not in those phases, where we are broken down, and all we can muster the strength to pray for is to want to want, or even to want to want to want, that the Church should be most present with the succor of her sacraments?
Gobry knows that rooting anything salvific and divinely beneficial in our actions or will is a fool’s errand. It’s not just that we aren’t righteous, it’s that we don’t even want to be righteous. Indeed, any righteous desire in our will is doomed to an infinite regress, rendered impotent because of sin. We only want to want to be righteous, or even want to want to want to be righteous. And even this is giving us too much credit.
So, what is the way out of this morass over who may worthily partake of Communion? Martin Luther would say, “That person is truly worthy and well prepared who has faith in these words: ‘Given and shed for you for the forgiveness of sins.’”[5] Our worthiness to partake of Communion is not and cannot be based in our freedom from sin, our reparations for sin, or the fullness and genuineness of a promise not to commit more sin. With regard to the Catholic Church’s current quandary over divorce and remarriage specifically, worthiness for Communion cannot be the result of trying to fix the sin of divorce by, after remarrying, getting another divorce, for this is also a sin. No, our worthiness to partake on Communion can only be based on faith in the One who gives us His body and blood to remedy our unworthiness. Our worthiness must be based in Jesus because our worthiness is Jesus.
Existential crisis…remedied.
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[1] The Catechism of the Catholic Church (Collegeville, MN: The Liturgical Press, 1994), § 1650.
[2] Terrence McCoy, “Did Pope Francis just call and say divorced Catholics can take Communion?” The Washington Post (4.24.2014).
[3] Ross Douthat, “The Pope’s Phone Call,” The New York Times (4.26.2014).
[4] Pascal-Emmanuel Gobry, “On Divine Mercy Sunday, Some Thoughts On Communion And Divorced-Remarried,” patheos.com (4.27.2014).
[5] Martin Luther, Large Catechism, “The Sacrament of the Altar,” Section 1.
You’re not smart enough or good enough, even if people like you
It was Stuart Smalley, played by Al Franken on Saturday Night Live, who said, “I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and, doggone it, people like me!” As it turns out, many took Smalley’s credo to heart. And the results have been sadly predictable.
Case in point: the American Bible Society, in conjunction with the Barna Group, recently published its “State of the Bible” report for 2014. The report opens with plenty of punch:
Now there are just as many Americans skeptical of the Bible as there are engaged with the Bible. According to the fourth annual State of the Bible survey, 19 percent said that they were skeptical of the Bible. This number is up from 10 percent in 2011.
This trend is even more pronounced among the Millennial generation (who range in age from 18-29). According to the State of the Bible report, Millennials are
– Less likely to view the Bible as sacred literature (64 percent in comparison to 79 percent of adults),
– Less likely to believe the Bible contains everything a person needs to know to lead a meaningful life (35 percent in comparison to 50 percent of adults), and
– More likely to never read the Bible (39 percent compared in comparison to 26 percent of adults).[1]
It turns out that America’s latest generation is more suspicious of the Bible than any that has come before it.
Now, on the one hand, such suspicion requires solid biblical apologists – people who can argue for Scripture’s veracity, historicity, consistency, and even morality to a society that is increasingly questioning Scripture on all these fronts. Indeed, one factoid that came out of this report is that while 50 percent of all adults believe the Bible has too little influence on society, only 30 percent of Millennials believe this. This is, in part, because many Millennials no longer accept the basic premise that the Bible teaches right from wrong. Instead, many Millennials now believe the Bible promotes wrong rather than right – for instance, on topics like sexual ethics. Thus, they see the Bible as having a negative, rather than a positive, influence on society – one they would be happy to see continue to wane.
But there is more to this report than just what Millennials believe about the Bible. The statistic I found most telling from this report is this one: 19 percent of Millennials believe no literature is sacred compared to 13 percent of all adults who believe no literature is sacred. In other words, it’s not just that Millennials have a problem with the Bible in particular, it’s that they struggle with any literature that claims to be sacred in general.
It is here that we arrive at the core of this new generation’s struggle. For to claim a particular piece of literature is sacred is, at the same time, to say something about its authority. After all, something with a sacred, or divine, origin is, by definition, “above” me and can therefore make certain claims on me and demands from me. But this is something this current generation simply cannot endure. For to believe a book like the Bible has divine authority is to concede that if I disagree with the Bible, the Bible gets the right of way. But when I’ve been told, “I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and, doggone it, people like me,” I cannot stand to have my goodness or moral intelligence questioned by some backward work from ancient antiquity. My modern, enlightened sensibilities cannot be wrong. I must be right. The only sacred literature left, then, is the moral script I’ve written for myself and carry around in myself – hence, the reason so many Millennials see not only the Bible as unsacred, but any religion’s holy book as unsacred.
So with all of this in mind, perhaps it’s worth it to do a little reflection on our assumption concerning the sapience and sacredness of our moral sensibilities. We have been told we are smart enough. But are we, really? Have we never made a wrong call, a tragic error, or a bumbling fumble? We have been told we are good enough. But are we, really? Have we never broken our own moral boundaries or changed them over time because of a shifting perspective, or, more cynically, because of coldly calculated expedience? A little bit of honest introspection is enough to remind us that what Stuart Smalley taught us is profoundly untrue. Indeed, it is downright silly. And it is supposed to be. That’s why it aired on Saturday Night Live.
So let’s stop looking to ourselves for truth and morality and start looking to something higher. Let’s take an honest look at the Bible. Who knows? We may find it’s smarter and better than even we are. And, doggone it, we might even learn to like that.
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[1] “State of the Bible 2014,” American Bible Society.
We’ve Only Just Begun
As a kid, I remember a song my mom used to play from the 70’s by the Carpenters called “We’ve Only Just Begun.” The song is about a couple’s wedding day and imagines all the things still to come in their relationship. “We’ve only just begun to live,” the song muses.
The message of this golden oldie is a message I often share with the soon-to-be-wedded couples I counsel. “The wedding day is a big day,” I will say, “but it is only one day. Don’t just plan for your wedding day. Plan for all the days that come after your wedding day. After all, when you walk down that aisle and make your vows, you’ve only just begun.”
Yesterday, we celebrated the resurrection of Christ. The apostle Paul summarizes Christ’s resurrection thusly:
For what I received I passed on to you as of first importance: that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, that He was buried, that He was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures. (1 Corinthians 15:3-4)
For Paul, Christ’s death for our sins and resurrection three days later is “of first importance.” The Greek word for this phrase is protos, from which we get our word “prototype.” A prototype, of course, is a first run of a product or procedure meant to be a test for what comes after it. And this is precisely what Christ’s resurrection is. For, according to Paul, Christ’s resurrection – glorious as it is – is only the beginning. Paul explains:
Christ has indeed been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep. For since death came through a man, the resurrection of the dead comes also through a man. For as in Adam all die, so in Christ all will be made alive. (1 Corinthians 15:20-22)
Paul argues that in Christ’s resurrection on Easter Day, God was doing a test run for our resurrections on the Last Day. As glorious as Easter is, then, it is only a foretaste of what is to come. It is only a prototype for the big roll out of resurrection and life that will burst forth at Christ’s return. God has “only just begun” to raise people from death. An even bigger Easter is still on its way – an Easter when we will not only shout, “Christ has risen,” but, “We have risen!”
Not Just Any Old Crucifixion
“Calvary” by Josse Lieferinxe, c. 1500
In the ancient world, crucifixions were a dime a dozen. Hardly a day passed without one. Consider these statistics:
- 519 BC: Darius I, king of Persia, crucifies 3,000 of the leading citizens of Babylon.
- 332 BC: Alexander the Great crucifies 2,000 people after invading the city of Tyre.
- 100 BC: Alexander Jannaeus, king of Judea, crucifies 800 Pharisees.
- 71 BC: A great uprising of slaves against the Roman Empire, led by the great gladiator Spartacus, leads to the crucifixion of 6,000 of his followers along a stretch of highway from Capua to Rome, totaling 120 miles.
- 4 BC: Varus, governor of Syria, crucifies 2,000 Jewish rebels who were leading a Messianic revolt.
- AD 70: The Roman general Titus sweeps into the city of Jerusalem, sacks it, and begins crucifying 500 people a day he runs out of wood to make crosses.
Crucifixions happened all the time. In fact, according to one estimate, as many as 30,000 people were crucified just in Israel by Jesus’ day.[1]
This Friday is Good Friday – a day when we commemorate a crucifixion. But with crucifixions being so commonplace in the ancient world, it’s worth it to ask: Why do we commemorate one particular crucifixion? Why don’t we commemorate the many crucifixions of the citizens of Babylon, or of Spartacus’ followers, or of the Jews under Titus’ reign of terror? Why do we commemorate only one crucifixion – Jesus’ crucifixion?
The Mishnah, an ancient compendium of Jewish rabbinical teaching, explains that if a criminal was condemned to execution, which would have included crucifixion, he was to say, “Let my death be atonement for all of my transgressions.”[2] The idea was that if a person’s crimes were so heinous that he was deserving of death, only death could save him from those crimes. Crucifixion, then, was connected not only to punitive punishment, but also to personal atonement.
Jesus’ crucifixion, however, was different. Rather than making recompense for His own sins by His death, Jesus asks for forgiveness for others’ sins: “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing” (Luke 23:34). And rather than seeking atonement for Himself by His execution, the apostle John says Jesus makes atonement for the world: “[Christ] is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not only for ours but also for the sins of the whole world” (1 John 2:2).
This is why we commemorate Jesus’ crucifixion. For we remember not only that Jesus was crucified, but why Jesus was crucified. He was crucified not for His own sins, but for ours. Jesus’ crucifixion did what no other crucifixion could do. It saved us. And that’s worth remembering…and celebrating. And that’s why this Friday is not just any Friday, but a Good Friday.
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[1] John MacArthur, The MacArthur New Testament Commentary: Matthew 24-28 (Chicago: The Moody Bible Institute, 1989), Matthew 27:27-37.
[2] m. Sanhedrin 6.2.
Common Question: What’s the Deal with the Apocrypha?
66 books. That’s how many books are in the Good Book. At least, that’s what I had always been taught. But then, a Roman Catholic friend of mine in high school claimed there was more to the Bible than the 66 books I had read since I was a little boy. There were actually 73 books, he explained. And these additional books had strange names like “Maccabees” and “Judith” and “Tobit” and even “Bel and the Dragon.” As he showed me these books, I was flummoxed. “Why hadn’t I ever heard of these books?” I asked myself.
These mysterious books to which I was introduced in high school are widely known as the “Apocrypha,” a Greek adjective meaning “hidden.” And though many Christians do not regularly read these books, they are indeed a part of the Roman Catholic canon of Scripture. In fact, one of the questions I often receive as a pastor is, “Why do Roman Catholics have ‘extra’ books in their Bible?”
Because the Apocrypha is a source of a lot of confusion, I thought it would be worth it to offer a brief history of these books along with an analysis of them from a Lutheran Christian perspective.
The books of the Apocrypha were written between the close of the Old Testament in 430 BC and the beginning of the New Testament. These books include historical accounts, supplements to famous Old Testament books such as Daniel and Esther, and wisdom books akin to the Proverbs.
From the beginning, these books were never fully embraced by the Church as inspired Scripture. Paul Maier, Professor Emeritus of Ancient History at Western Michigan University, explains:
The Apocrypha … were not included in the final canon of the Hebrew Bible, which was debated by rabbis at Jamnia (near Jerusalem) in AD 93. Thus they were also not included among the very 39 books that comprise the Old Testament in Christian Bibles today …
Early on … churchmen such as Origen of Alexandria noted a difference between the Apocrypha and the Hebrew Scriptures. Cyril of Jerusalem and Jerome also drew a line of separation between the two, using the term Apocrypha for the first time in reference to these writings. To be sure, Jerome included them in his Latin translation if the Bible, the Vulgate, but advised that the Apocrypha should be read for edification, not for supporting church dogma.[1]
Jerome’s warning against using the Apocrypha as a basis for Christian doctrine is especially important. His doctrinal concern is perhaps best illustrated by 2 Maccabees 12:44-45 when the Jewish liberator Judas Maccabeus prays for some who have died, seeking to make atonement for the sins they committed while they were still alive. From these verses, the Roman Catholic Church derives its doctrine of Purgatory, a place where deceased believers undergo a final purification from sin that readies them for the bliss of heaven. The Catechism of the Catholic Church explains the doctrine of Purgatory thusly:
All who die in God’s grace and friendship, but still imperfectly purified, are indeed assured of their eternal salvation; but after death the undergo purification, so as to achieve the holiness necessary to enter the joy of heaven.
The Church gives the name Purgatory to this final purification of the elect.[2]
This teaching runs contrary both to the broad teaching of canonical Scripture, which declares that a person enters either paradise or hell immediately upon death (e.g., Luke 16:19-31; 23:39-43), and to the gospel, because it adds to Christ’s perfectly purifying work on the cross our own work of purification in Purgatory by which we may “achieve the holiness necessary to enter the joy of heaven.” By adding our achievements to Christ’s achievement, the doctrine of Purgatory belittles and undermines the sufficiency of Christ’s sacrifice. Thus, the universal Church does not treat the Apocrypha as divinely inspired.
Interestingly, the Apocrypha was not even fully embraced by the Roman Catholic Church until the Fourth Session of the Council of Trent in 1546. In this session, it was declared:
But if any one receive not, as sacred and canonical, the said books entire with all their parts, as they have been used to be read in the Catholic Church, and as they are contained in the old Latin Vulgate edition; and knowingly and deliberately contemn the traditions aforesaid; let him be anathema.[3]
With this decree, the Roman Catholic Church effectively erased the distinction between ancient books that should be read for private edification and inspired books that should be appealed to for Christian doctrine – a distinction that Jerome, the very one who translated the Latin Vulgate, which Rome was here declaring to be its official translation, had made! Thus, Rome took Jerome’s translation, but disregarded his distinction. And the Church has been the worse for it over the years.
All of this is not to say that the Apocrypha should be altogether disregarded. Maier notes that “Clement of Alexandria, Polycarp, Tertullian, Hippolytus, Cyprian, and Augustine” cited heartily from the Apocrypha. These books give us much valuable historical insight into this time period and chronicle for us the origins of the religious parties we meet in the New Testament, such as the Pharisees and Sadducees. Thus, the Apocrypha is worth our time and study. We need to know about these books. Indeed, Martin Luther superscribed the books of the Apocrypha like this: “Books that are not be regarded as the equal of Holy Scripture but are nonetheless profitable and good to read.”[4]
If you’re looking for a good book, then, pick up the Apocrypha. If you’re looking for a divinely inspired book, however – that book still has only 66 books.
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[1] Paul Maier, “Foreword,” The Apocrypha: The Lutheran Edition with Notes (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 2012), xv-xvi.
[2] See Catechism of the Catholic Church (Collegeville: The Liturgical Press, 1994), §1030-1031.
[3] The Fourth Session of the Council of Trent (April 1546).
[4] Martin Luther, What Luther Says, Ewald M. Plass, ed. (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 1959), 1512, n. 20.
Beyond the Pale: What UK Hospitals Are Doing With Aborted Babies
Moral standards are moving targets. Ask three people for their thoughts on a contentious moral or ethical issue and you’ll get four opinions. But there are some things so unequivocally horrifying – so undeniably mortifying – that they command universal and reflexive shock, outrage, and revulsion. Enter an exposé by London’s Telegraph newspaper on what’s heating some UK hospitals:
The bodies of thousands of aborted and miscarried babies were incinerated as clinical waste, with some even used to heat hospitals, an investigation has found.
Ten NHS trusts have admitted burning fetal remains alongside other rubbish while two others used the bodies in ‘waste-to-energy’ plants which generate power for heat.
Last night the Department of Health issued an instant ban on the practice which health minister Dr. Dan Poulter branded ‘totally unacceptable.’
At least 15,500 fetal remains were incinerated by 27 NHS trusts over the last two years alone …
One of the country’s leading hospitals, Addenbrooke’s in Cambridge, incinerated 797 babies below 13 weeks gestation at their own ‘waste to energy’ plant. The mothers were told the remains had been ‘cremated.’[1]
No matter how many times I read this article, it still makes me sick to my stomach. And I’m not the only one who finds this story nauseating, as the comments posted under the story indicate. One reader comments, “I think I am going to be sick.” Another writes, “The horror of it … what has our country become folks? This is just too much.” And still another existentially inquires, “Dear God, what have we become?”
Though much could be written about this story – and, I would add, I hope much is written about this because this is a story that needs to be thoroughly vetted – I want to offer two initial observations about this terrible, tragic report.
First, it must be admitted that here is an unabashed display of human depravity at it most dreadful depths. Just the thought of treating fetal remains so carelessly and callously should turn even the most hardened of stomachs. In Western society, we pride ourselves on making moral progress. We trumpet our advances on the frontier of human rights. A story like this one should give us a gut check. Moral progress is never far from moral regress. Indeed, even secular theorists are beginning to realize that humanity is not on an ever-improving, ever-increasing moral arc. Alan Dershowitz, one of the great secular thinkers of our time, admits as much in an interview with Albert Mohler when he says:
I think the 20th century is perhaps the most complicated, convoluted century in the history of the world perhaps because I lived in it, but it had the worst evil. Hitler’s evil and Stalin’s evil are unmatched in the magnitude in the world … On the other hand, it was the century in which we really ended discrimination based on race and based on gender. We made tremendous scientific progress … So I think the 20th century has really proved that progress doesn’t operate in a linear way … We don’t evolve morally, we don’t get better morally as time passes.[2]
Morally, we must be continually careful and endlessly vigilant. We will never become so good that we are no longer bad. To quote the caution of the apostle Paul: “If you think you are standing firm, be careful that you don’t fall” (1 Corinthians 10:12)!
The second observation I would offer on this story is that we are sadly deluded as a society if we decry the burning of fetuses on the one hand while supporting abortion on the other. There is a reason incinerating fetuses to heat hospitals has raised so many moral hackles. And it’s not because these fetuses are nothing more than “tissue.” Indeed, I find it quite telling that The Telegraph refers to these fetuses as “remains.” A quick perusal of a dictionary will find that the noun “remains” refers to “dead bodies,” or “corpses.” In other words, dead people. This is not just aborted tissue. These are aborted people. Aborted babies. But now these babies have passed. And to treat the dead in such an undignified manner as these UK hospitals have is unconscionable. The difference between the passing of these babies, however, and the passing of others who die in hospitals is that these babies have died intentionally at the hands of abortion doctors.
Yes, I am well aware of arguments for abortion that center on a woman’s right to do with her body as she pleases. But if she can do with her body as she wishes, I’m not sure why a hospital can’t do with its procedural remains as it wants. If it can throw away fluid drained from someone’s lungs in a biohazard bag, why can’t it burn a baby? Yes, I am aware that some may accuse me of making a fallacious “slippery slope” argument and they would counter-argue that you don’t need to ban abortion to decry the burning of fetal remains. But this counter-argument intimates that abortion is somehow a lesser evil than burning aborted corpses – an assumption I do not share. Indeed, I think abortion is a great and deep evil – but not just because I believe it deliberately ends the life of a child, but because I hate what abortions do to the women who suffer through them. Case in point: a recent study in The British Journal of Psychiatry shows that women who undergo abortions have an 81 percent higher risk of subsequent mental health problems.[3] Nevertheless, proponents of abortion could claim that one can support abortion without sliding all the way down the slope into the moral morass of these UK hospitals. But I would point out that we already have, in fact, slid all the way down this slope. The charred now non-remains of 15,500 babies testify to it. So perhaps it’s time to repent and, by the grace of God, start scaling the slope – and not just halfway up the slope, but all the way off the slope. Human depravity warns us that if we don’t, we’ll slide right back down again.
______________________
[1] Sarah Knapton, “Aborted babies incinerated to heat UK hospitals,” The Telegraph (3.24.2014).
[2] Albert Mohler, “Moral Reasoning in a Secular Age: A Conversation with Professor Alan Dershowitz,” albertmohler.com.
[3] Priscilla K. Coleman, “Abortion and mental health: quantitative synthesis and analysis of research published 1995–2009,” The British Journal of Psychology 199 (2011), 182.
Christian Persecution Under the Stars and Stripes
Are rabid secularists persecuting Christians in the United States? This is the question Robert Boston of Salon takes up. His answer is an unambiguous and unapologetic “no way.” He opens his article in an almost combative tenor:
Certain words should not be tossed around lightly. Persecution is one of those words.
Religious right leaders and their followers often claim that they are being persecuted in the United States. They should watch their words carefully. Their claims are offensive; they don’t know the first thing about persecution.
One doesn’t have to look far to find examples of real religious persecution in the world. In some countries, people can be imprisoned, beaten, or even killed because of what they believe. Certain religious groups are illegal and denied the right to meet. This is real persecution. By contrast, being offended because a clerk in a discount store said “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas” pales. Only the most confused mind would equate the two.[1]
Boston goes on to rehearse a litany of privileges that religious institutions enjoy in our society along with some examples of what he considers to be true religious persecution:
Go to Saudi Arabia, where it’s illegal to even open a Christian church, and experience the fear of those Christian believers who dare to worship in private homes, aware that at any moment they may be imprisoned.
Visit North Korea, where all religions have been swept away and replaced with a bizarre form of worship of the state and its leader that purports to promote self-reliance but, in reality, merely serves as a vehicle for oppression.
Visit any region under the control of the Taliban, a movement so extreme that, in Afghanistan, they trashed that nation’s cultural heritage by blowing up two sixth-century statutes of Buddha because they were declared false idols by religious leaders who are intolerant of any other faith but Islam.
There is real religious persecution in the world. Right-wing Christians in America aren’t experiencing it.
On the one hand, there are some things to affirm in Boston’s article. First, I agree that it is awfully tough to make the leap from someone wishing a Christian “Happy Holidays” rather than “Merry Christmas” to religious persecution. That is not only a questionable example of persecution, but a silly one. Second, I wholeheartedly and unequivocally affirm that compared to what Christians are experiencing in other countries, Christians who live “in the land of the free and the home of the brave” have it great. There is no reason – ever – for Christians in this country to compare themselves to Christians who are, let’s say, awaiting execution in North Korea.[2]
But…
There’s always a “but,” isn’t there?
For all of Boston’s bravado about how Christians in the States are not persecuted, I’m not sure he really understands Christianity or persecution.
Boston rails against what he calls “right-wing Christians” and “religious conservatives.” Just in case we’re unclear as to what he means, headlining his piece is a picture of Glenn Beck, Phil Robertson, and Michelle Bachmann. His implicit message seems to be that those who claim that Christian persecution is taking place in the States are nothing more than puppets and parrots of conservative political groups. But this is not fair to the breadth or the depth of Christianity. Christian theology is much better defined in terms of “orthodoxy” and “heresy” rather than in terms of “liberalism” and “conservatism.” After all, Christianity is much more concerned with the right teaching of divine truths than with a particular 21st century political ideology. This is why there are Christians who are Republicans and Democrats. No earthly political party can claim a monopoly on the Kingdom of God.
Second, though I understand Boston’s concern with Christians who brandish about the word “persecution” carelessly, I can’t help but suspect that he is guilty of precisely that which he rails against in his article. I find it strange that while writing about Christian persecution, Boston never pauses to consider what Christ has to say on the subject! So let’s do it ourselves. Jesus says, “Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of Me” (Matthew 5:11). Notice that Jesus here explains persecution in terms of words rather than actions. Jesus says that people will both insult and tells lies about His followers. There can be little doubt that this does indeed happen – even in the United States. And this, Jesus says, is part of persecution. Thus, Boston’s stipulations on what qualifies as Christian persecution are far too restrictive – at least according to Christ.
I am aware there is quite a gap between the definition of persecution theologically and the definition of persecution popularly. It is dangerous to throw out a word like “persecution” without any sort of background on how this word is used biblically and theologically. Hopefully, the dust up during the Romney campaign over whether or not Mormonism is a cult taught us that not all people define all words the same way.[3] Thus, if we’re going to apply the word “persecution” to anything that happens to Christians in the States, we need to explain what we mean.
Whatever you may think does or does not qualify as persecution, what is most important is how Christians respond to those who are against them. Boston says Christians have reacted to that which they perceive to be persecution with “so much carping.” This, I agree, is tragic. When Christians are persecuted, our response should not be one of carping, whining, or fretting. After all, according to Jesus’ Beatitudes, when we are persecuted, we are not victimized, but “blessed.” This is why, when the apostles experience physical persecution at the hands of the Sanhedrin, they leave “rejoicing because they had been counted worthy of suffering disgrace for the Name” (Acts 5:41).
I like what Robert Morgan of the Huffington Post says about Christian persecution:
The Bible anticipated [persecution] years ago. The founder of Christianity, after all, was tortured to death and His original 12 followers were all persecuted; most were slain. Though His message was a Gospel of peace, His critics nailed Him to a cross but failed to keep Him in the tomb. They hated Him but could not contain Him. They sought to limit His influence, but they only broadened His impact.[4]
Ultimately, no matter how badly Christianity may be persecuted, threatened, belittled, cajoled, and legislatively restricted, it just won’t die. Why? Because its Founder lives.
[1] Robert Boston, “The ultimate guide to debunking right-wingers’ insane persecution fantasies,” Salon (3.16.2014).
[2] Cheryl Chumley, “Kim Jong-un calls for execution of 33 Christians,” Washington Times (3.6.2014).
[3] Richard Oppel & Erik Eckholm, “Prominent Pastor Calls Romney’s Church a Cult,” New York Times (10.7.2011).
[4] Robert Morgan, “The World’s War on Christianity,” Huffington Post (1.14.2014).
Unreal Sales for Real Marriage
It seems as though the New York Times bestseller list just isn’t what it used to be. In an article for the Los Angeles Times, Carolyn Kellogg writes about the saga of a recent book that became a New York Times bestseller not because lots of people were buying it, but because a company called ResultSource was buying thousands of copies of the book with the express intent of turning it into a bestseller. Kellogg begins by citing from World magazine, the news outlet that broke the story:
“The contract called for the ‘author’ to ‘provide a minimum of 6,000 names and addresses for the individual orders and at least 90 names and address [sic] for the remaining 5,000 bulk orders. Please note that it is important that the makeup of the 6,000 individual orders include at least 1,000 different addresses with no more than 350 per state.’”
Measures like these are designed to game the systems set in place by BookScan and other book sales talliers to protect the integrity of their bestseller lists …
After getting thousands of names with geographic diversity, RSI took another step to place [the book] on bestseller lists, according to the World article. The agreement specifies, “RSI will use its own payment systems (ex. gift cards to ensure flawless reporting). Note: The largest obstacle to the reporting system is the tracking of credit cards. RSI uses over 1,000 different payment types (credit cards, gift cards, etc).”[1]
Wow. That sure sounds shady.
Did I mention the book in question is Real Marriage, written by famous mega-church pastor Mark Driscoll? And did I mention his church, Mars Hill in Seattle, shelled out, according to some reports, over $200,000 to get his book to the top of the New York Times bestseller list?
In many ways, Mark Driscoll and I are kindred spirits. We share many of the same theological commitments. When it comes to preaching, we both believe a good sermon must not primarily be about what we are to do, but about what God has done for us in Jesus Christ. When it comes to Scriptural authority, both of us hold doggedly to the doctrine of inerrancy, even though some voices are seeking to discredit it these days. When it comes to salvation, we both believe that, contrary to our society’s pluralistic ethos, salvation is found in no one but Christ. We share a lot in common. But for all our theological similarities, what happened with Real Marriage represents a weighty ethical difference.
I know sales number shenanigans are not at all unusual in the publishing world. Authors do this kind of thing all the time. Sarah Cunningham of the Huffington Post explains that Real Marriage’s marketing strategy is only a symptom of a systemic disease:
This book launch strategy … wasn’t shocking to anyone who has been involved in the publishing industry … There have always been ways to underwrite the success of authors in any field, religious or not, when the efforts were attached to a deep enough bank account. Don’t doubt for a second, then, that some of Mark’s … counterparts haven’t done (or tried to do) the same.[2]
According to Cunningham, when it comes to cooking sales numbers, “everybody’s doing it.” But this go-to teenage quip is a sorry justification for what is a seriously unethical practice.
When I visited ResultSource’s website, I found it curious that although they made all sorts of promises that they can get a book onto the New York Times bestseller list, they didn’t give a clear explanation of how they can get a book onto the New York Times bestseller list. Here’s a sampling of what their website boasts:
We partner with authors to create and tap an audience – to connect the potential buyers of your book directly with the bookseller to leverage your launch potential. Our goal is to reach further than just typical launch management – our deep relationships enable us to create opportunities outside of what’s expected, to gain substantial traction within the critical “first 90 days” of your launch – or booksellers will send your book back to the publisher.
RSI can:
Leverage our relationships with individuals in “Seven Channels of Influence” to promote your book. Research shows that people are influenced by multiple touch-points – and that our buying decisions are driven by as many as seven channels within our culture.
Send email promotions to as many as 300,000 book buyers on our proprietary database of business and self-help book buyers.
Write and design electronic promotions such as banners, excerpts, and Q&As.
Build a powerful merchandising program with key retailers like airport booksellers, Amazon, B&N (Brick-n-Mortar and BN.com), Borders, Books-A-Million and independent outlets. The key to a winning book launch campaign is to have copies of your book in prominent positions at as many retailers as possible – and then drive sell through.[3]
Now, besides being a little leery of any company that makes selling a book through Borders (NYSE: BGP $0.00 +0.00%) a featured component of their marketing strategy, I am also deeply unsettled by the ambiguity of their claims. I honestly have no idea what they’re talking about. What are the “Seven Channels of Influence”? What, exactly, does it mean to “build a powerful merchandising program with key retailers”? And why don’t they mention that their primary strategy to drive sales is for this company to buy thousands of copies of a particular book in a way that dupes bestseller lists into believing thousands of people are buying the book? If a company can’t talk openly and honestly about the services they offer, perhaps they shouldn’t be offering them.
Ultimately, I point out what happened with Real Marriage not to pick on Mark Driscoll, but because this scandal is indicative of a wider, toxic pattern that needs to be addressed. In this particular instance, I appreciate how the Board of Advisors and Accountability at Mars Hill has responded to this controversy, writing, “While not uncommon or illegal, this unwise strategy is not one we had used before or since, and not one we will use again.”[4] I am glad to hear that. I hope others follow suit.
From a theological perspective, Driscoll pinpoints the root of the problem in this whole saga in another one of his books when he writes, “This world’s fundamental problem is that we don’t understand who we truly are – children of God made in His image – and instead define ourselves by any number of things other than Jesus.”[5]
I couldn’t agree more. If the prestige of being a New York Times bestselling author is so bewitching that a whole company can be created to help authors pay their way onto this list, something is terribly and tragically awry. We are defining ourselves by all the wrong things.
Regardless of whether or not Mark Driscoll actually is a bestselling author, he is a child of God. So am I. And that’s good enough. Because, in the end, that’s what really matters.
[1] Carolyn Kellogg, “Can bestseller lists be bought?” Los Angeles Times (3.6.2014).
[2] Sarah Cunningham, “The Injustice of Silence: Why Our Culture Pulled Mark Driscoll Over For a Broken Headlight,” Huffington Post (3.6.2014).
[3] ResultSource.com, “Book Launch Campaigns.”
[4] “A Note From Our Board of Advisors & Accountability,” Mars Hill Church (3.7.2014).
[5] Mark Driscoll, Who Do You Think You Are? Finding Your True Identity In Christ (Nashville, Thomas Nelson, 2013), 2.
David Wise’s “Alternative” Lifestyle
Credit: David Calvert for The New York Times
He’s a husband. He’s a father. He’s a follower of Jesus who can see himself becoming a pastor one day. And, oh yeah, he’s also an Olympic freestyle skier of halfpipe who won that gold. His name is David Wise.
Recently, Skyler Wilder of NBC Sports wrote a profile on Wise in which he made a special note on Wise’s character:
Wise is mature far beyond his years. At only twenty-three years old, he has a wife, Alexandra, who was waiting patiently in the crowd, and together they have a two-year-old daughter waiting for them to return to their home in Reno, Nevada.
At such a young age, Wise has the lifestyle of an adult. He wears a Baby Bjorn baby carrier around the house. He also attends church regularly and says he could see himself becoming a pastor a little later down the road.[1]
When reading such a description of this young man and his family, you can’t help but envision something straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting – except that, as Wilder points out, Wise can “nail two double corks wearing baggy pants.”
What strikes me about Wilder’s profile of Wise, however, is not Wise’s fascinating life, but Wilder’s unique title for his profile: “David Wise’s alternative lifestyle leads to Olympic gold.” Wilder calls Wise’s lifestyle as husband, father, and Christian “alternative.”
When Wilder published his profile on Wise with this headline, almost immediately, people raised concerns and critiques. You can read some here, here, and here.
These concerns and critiques notwithstanding, frankly, I’m okay with the designation of Wise’s lifestyle as “alternative” – not because I like what it says about the values of our society, but because it’s true. Statistically, there can be little doubt that Wise’s lifestyle at Wise’s age is not mainstream. As David Weigel of Slate points out:
Wise got married and had a kid at a far younger age than most people. According to data published by the National Campaign to Prevent Teen and Unplanned Pregnancy, the median age of the American first marriage is 26 and a half. The average age for an American bringing the first child into his/her homes: About 25 and a half. So, yes, David Wise is very good at skiing, and he figured out, as the Internet might refer to it, that whole adulthood thing much faster than the median American or median famous Olympian.[2]
The character Wise has and the lifestyle he lives at the tender age of 23 is far beyond his years. In this sense, it is alternative. But it is also hopeful.
Several years ago, sociologist Rodney Stark wrote a book titled, The Rise of Christianity: How the Obscure, Marginal Jesus Movement Became the Dominant Religious Force in the Western World in a Few Centuries. Stark opens his book with some numbers:
For a starting number, Acts 1:14-15 suggests that several months after the Crucifixion there were 120 Christians … Yet only six decades later, Christians were so numerous that Constantine found it expedient to embrace the church … Goodenough estimated that 10 percent of the empire’s population were Christians by the time of Constantine. If we accepted 60 million as the total population at that time … this would mean that there were 6 million Christians at the start of the fourth century.[3]
The Christian Church grew from 120 to 6 million in just over three centuries. That’s staggering! But how did it happen? Though Christianity’s rise is thanks to multiple factors – not the least of which is the grace of God – one reason Christianity showed such incredible growth is because it offered an alternative. It was different from the rest of the world.
For instance, in the 160’s, and then again in the 260’s, a series of plagues struck the eastern provinces of Roman Empire. These plagues were so devastating that during a smallpox epidemic in 165, a quarter to a third of the population died. When these plagues swept through, most people – scared of becoming infected – took the sick and threw them into the streets to die. But there was one group of people who, rather than casting the sick out, brought the sick in: Christians. Dionysius, the bishop of Alexandria during the second sweep of plagues in the 260’s, writes about how Christians responded to these plagues:
Most of our brother Christians showed unbounded love and loyalty; never sparing themselves and thinking only of one another. Heedless of danger, they took charge of the sick, attending to their every need and ministering to them in Christ, and with them departed this life serenely happy; for they were infected by others with the disease, drawing on themselves the sickness of their neighbors and cheerfully accepting their pains. Many, in nursing and caring for others, transferred their death to themselves and died in their stead.[4]
While everyone else was casting the sick out, Christians were bringing the sick in – many of them dying because of their efforts. Christians offered an “alternative.” And the Church grew.
It is no secret that what Christians teach and the ways in which Christians live is out of step with our society’s Zeitgeist. We are “alternative.” But considering the pain, hopelessness, corruption, despair, emptiness, and oppression that our society’s Zeitgeist reaps (for examples, just look here, here, and here), don’t we need an alternative?
So when someone calls us “alternative,” perhaps we should embrace the distinction. For we do offer an alternative. We offer the alternative of Christ to the mainstream of sin. And when we offer that alternative, we offer hope. And hope is an alternative that our world sorely needs.
[1] Skyler Wilder, “David Wise’s alternative lifestyle leads to Olympic gold,” NBCOlympics.com (2.18.2014).
[2] David Weigel, “Will This Young, Happily Married Olympian Start a New Culture War?” Slate (2.19.2014).
[3] Rodney Stark, The Rise of Christianity: How the Obscure, Marginal Jesus Movement Became the Dominant Religious Force in the Western World in a Few Centuries (San Francisco: Harper Collins, 1997), 5-6.
[4] Dionysius of Alexandria in Rodney Stark, The Rise of Christianity, 82.
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