Gender-Flipping the Argument

Why isn't this man in the army?

Here's an amusing list of the ten reasons men shouldn't be ordained, apparently based on an older list related to women's suffrage. My personal favorite is number six:

6. Men are too emotional to be priests or pastors. Their conduct at football and basketball games demonstrates this.

 I may turn the topic of gender-flipping into a regular feature here. It's quite insightful.

"They don't need the good news because they don't get the bad news." Nope.

Your kids are not Gollum in this story.

The quote in the title comes from this comment by Steve McCoy. Steve McCoy has been in the spotlight lately for a recent tweet. McCoy wrote "Tell your children they are broken. Deeply broken."

Now, I get what McCoy is trying to emphasize here. We all have a sinful nature from birth. Because it is so fundamental, he wants everyone to know this. He wants them to know it as early as possible because, in his view, anyone who doesn't properly embrace this bad news cannot properly appreciate the good news of the Gospel.  I get it. Most of my experience with Christian communities (beginning in high school) has been with people who agree with his theological point. I happen to agree with his theological point, myself.

But I am dead set against his prescription. (more below the jump break)

Reading Scripture and the Conservative/Liberal Divide

My wife provided a link to this article at Christianity Today, which discusses some new research on the relationship between regular Bible reading on whether the reader leans conservative or liberal on various topics. Some of the key findings (find more at the link):

Frequent Bible reading has some predictable effects on the reader. It increases opposition to abortion as well as homosexual marriage and unions. [...] But [...] For each increased level of Bible-reading frequency, support for the Patriot Act decreased by about 13 percent. [...] As might be expected, respondents who were more politically liberal were prone to disagree with the statement, "The government should punish criminals more harshly." Unexpectedly (at least given the conservative stereotype), the more frequently people read the Bible, the more they too are prone to disagree with the statement. [...] the more someone reads the Bible, the more likely he or she is to believe science and religion are compatible.[...] contrary to liberal media stereotypes, those who are most engaged in their faith (by directly and frequently reading its source material) are those who are most supportive of social and economic justice.

The article interprets this as causal: more frequent Bible reading makes otherwise conservative Christians more liberal. I think there is some sense to this interpretation. It's hard to read large segments of the Bible and think of it as more about rules and instructions than stories and people. And it's very hard to read those stories and still think of people as either good guys who follow the rules or bad guys who bring God's wrath upon them. The Bible doesn't really have many black hats, and even fewer white hats.

But it sounds like the study doesn't actually pin down the direction of causation in this way, I can think of good reasons it could go differently. In particular, if you're a slightly more liberal person in a conservative church environment, you will more frequently leave a sermon wondering "but does it really say that?" This provides motivation to read the Bible for yourself rather than just taking a pastor or teacher's word for it.

So my instinct is that sorting out the degree of cause in each direction is far from simple. Nevertheless, it's an important correlation, and one that holds even after controlling for a number of other important relationships. What do you think? Does reading the Bible regularly moderate your views? What about other people you know?

Death of a Sinner

[...] a middle-eastern religious fundamentalist extremist [...]

Thoughts on the news about Osama bin Laden from Pastor Ed Eubanks of Hickory Withe Presbyterian Church:

I understand the need and importance of the operation against Osama bin Laden, and recognize and even appreciate the significance of his removal from terrorist activity. [...] Surely everyone knew that this-- death by firearm, or bomb, or missile, in the face of military aggression-- was the reasonable and eventual end of this man, whose entire life seemed to be singularly-focused on wreaking fear, grief, and death upon as many of those with whom he disagreed as possible.

But Ed also sees something seriously wrong with how we've responded, including the following:

The United States is not the Promised Land. The Old Testament promises for the nation of God's people do not apply to America. The American military forces are not the army of the Lord. And Christians, our citizenship in the U.S., however important, is secondary to our citizenship in the true Kingdom of God (and no they are not the same!). Consequently, Christians ought not feel free to cry out that the killing of Osama bin Laden is a victory for Christ!

Rejoicing at a degree of justice being fulfilled is one thing. Rejoicing at the death of a man who deserved God's wrath and curse no more than we did is something else entirely. the same David, the man after God's own heart who actually did  live in the Promised Land, the man who prayed for deliverance from his enemies and justice on God's enemies, wept for the deaths of Saul and Absalom.

The real kick in the gut, for me, was his last bullet, which included the following:

How many of the Christians who are celebrating the death of Osama bin Laden ever prayed for his conversion and repentance? If we know ourselves and what we have been redeemed from, we long for the redemption of others. If all we feel for others is contempt and condemnation, perhaps we don't know and recognize the depth and degree of our own redemption.

There have been some strongly held opinions on all sides expressed online about the death of Osama bin Laden. I've seen what nearly looked like battle lines drawn on the Facebook, of all places, over how good Christians should be rejoicing at the death of this wretched man. But as my friend Neal F. put it,

Bin Laden's death (should this prove true) is a somber reminder that we all deserve hell for our sins. "But for the grace of God, there go I." Neither you nor I did anything more than OBL to deserve God's love. Let us not rejoice in a fellow human being experiencing the punishment of hell, but rather let us appreciate the reconciling work of Christ to take away the sin of the world.

I say rejoice at a small taste of God's justice, yes. But rejoice for the death of an image bearer of God? Rejoice at part of the fate I have earned for myself falling on someone who has not received the same grace as I? Rejoice at the power of the gun to change the shape of this broken, poisoned world? Rejoice that the sword has not departed from our house?

No. Osama bin Laden was an evil man, and the world is probably safer without him. But will I revel in another death? No. No I will not. God does not rejoice in the death of the wicked, and neither should we.

Money, Money, Money

Here's a bit from macroeconomics: In 2008, per person income in the United States was nearly four times that in our neighbor Mexico, more than ten times that in India, and one-hundred twenty-five times that in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. In the United States we have an adult literacy rate of ninety-nine percent, compared to twenty-six percent in Mali.

And here's one from micro: Two products that start out selling for the same price could come to differ for any combination of four reasons: If more people value and want to buy good A or fewer people want to produce and sell good A, its price will go up; but if fewer people want to buy good A or more people want to produce and sell good A, its price will go down. If people care about doing work they enjoy, then the fact that one job gets paid more than another could either mean people want to buy the product of the higher-paid job more (maybe some people value the product more), or it could mean they enjoy doing the higher-paid job less (maybe it takes a lot more to get people to deal with the drudgery / risk involved).

When I think of personal finance and income, these are the things that come to my mind. The vast majority of the wealth I have is mine simply because of where I was born. Any extra wealth I have that comes from my job has more to do with choosing a field most others would find mind-numbingly dull than it does with how much use I am to the corporations of the world, and neither of these has anything useful to say about any sort of inherent personal value. All the things that put me in the position I am in were given by God, anyway, and the more I have to covet the more God requires I give up for others.

In my mind, to hear that someone else makes more money than me sounds a lot like hearing they have a larger shoe size than me. If it matters at all, the ones with more money have a moral obligation to use it in the interests of those around them with less, in the same sense that someone with a bigger bit of floating debris after a shipwreck ought to share it with other survivors.

All this is background to the fact that I tend to be rather nonchalant, and even flippant, about matters of money. It never occurs to me that talking about how much money I make isn't polite, or that mentioning where my expected payscale ranks compared to those around me is the uncouth work of a braggart. How can one brag about the size of one's shoes, or the buoyancy of one's debris? I ask myself. But the fact that it doesn't bother me doesn't make it OK for me to treat others as if they're silly to let it bother them. I am not the arbiter of truth or seriousness, and the world isn't wrong just because it doesn't see things the way I do. On the contrary, ignoring other people's thoughts and feelings, especially when I don't think or feel the same way, is no way to live in community; it is, however, a perfect way to fail at loving my neighbor.

So if I have bragged about money to any of you before, I am sorry. I was wrong, although I hope you'll believe me when I say there was neither malice nor pride behind it. I was "merely" thoughtlessness, which of course isn't really less wrong. I'm trying to be better. I hope you'll bear with me.

"I repent
...of the way I believe that I'm living right
By trading sins for others that are easier to hide
Oh I am wrong and of these things
I repent"
-- Derek Webb (and, all too rarely, me)

Social Insurance and the Church

Nicer than your average insurance office.

I'm a bit late on this, but here is a fascinating post by Frances Woolley:

The Catholic church is one of the world's oldest insurance companies. [...] Religion as social insurance, Christian style, works as follows: individuals tithe, or give 10 percent of their income, to the church. In exchange, the church provides alms for the poor, that is, a minimal guarantee against destitution.

[...] being independent of the established church meant cutting oneself off from the (sometimes expensive and inefficient) social insurance services it provided. Hence these religions preached responsibility, both for oneself and for others in need. Some of the most iconic British brands, such as Clarks and Cadburys, as well as international companies such as Bethleham Steel, were founded by non-conforming Quakers. To generalize from the savings behaviour of these groups to society in general would be dangerous.[...]

In Europe, Canada, and to a lesser extent the US, government-provided social insurance has replaced that provided by religion. 

It's a great post, well worth reading the whole thing. It got me thinking, anyway. Taking it as given that the Church should be caring for the poor, but hasn't been for some time now, is it wrong for the state to try to fill this gap? Does one God ordained institution have the right to fulfill the duties of another when that other is unable or unwilling to do so? I'm thinking specifically about care of widows and orphans, in which the Church is specifically called to perform the duties normally left to the head of the family.  Anyway, interesting thoughts.

Hell or Bell?

I am referring, of course, to the forthcoming book Love Wins by pastor Rob Bell of Mars Hill Bible Church. As something of a follow up to a previous post which generated a lively discussion, I thought I'd link to a couple of articles on the Christian doctrine of hell and the people who believe it.

The first article, written by Eric Reitan, is on the controversy surrounding Rob Bell:

Justin Taylor, vice president of editorial at Crossway, quickly posted a fierce condemnation—based solely on advance material. “It is unspeakably sad,” writes Taylor, “when those called to be ministers of the Word distort the gospel and deceive the people of God with false doctrine.”

The main point of the article isn't so much whether Bell is right or wrong, as we don't even know his actual argument yet. Rather, it is about how we react to those who disagree with us about admittedly Very Important Things.

One of the more conservative people in the audience (we’ll call him Jim) said rather forcefully that Jesus only saves those who explicitly ask Him to be their Lord and Savior. When I said I disagreed with that view, Jim replied, “Then you disagree with God.”[...]

This disposition of humility does not become fanaticism, however, until it is paired with arrogance: the refusal to recognize that their beliefs about God’s word could be wrong. The fanatic treats a challenge to their own beliefs as if it were a challenge to the word of God.

Of course, the article does deal with some of the substance of the rejection of universalism, making a point I tried to in my previous post:

Can you really preach biblical inerrancy and dismiss universalism? What, then, do you do with John 12:32 where Jesus says, “But I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all men to myself”? What do you do with Romans 5:18 (“Consequently, just as the result of one trespass was condemnation for all men, so also the result of one act of righteousness was justification that brings life for all men”)? What about Romans 11:32 (“For God has bound all men over to disobedience so that he may have mercy on them all”)? Or I Corinthians 15:22 (“For as in Adam all die, so in Christ all will be made alive”)? Or I Corinthians 15: 28? Or Colossians 1:19-20? Or Lamentations 3:31-32?  

Presumably, Piper and Taylor have to say that when the Bible says “all,” it doesn’t really mean “all.” The plain meaning of these passages has to be rejected, some strained interpretation offered, in order to reconcile them with the hell-centric passages they favor (and yes, there is a litany of such passages as well).

Which is to say, taking the Bible as Truth is a much more complex process than we care to admit. Either we accept that some passages apparently contradict each other, and our finite minds don't know how to fully reconcile them, or we have to pick and choose which words to take at closer to face value than others. There are better and worse ways to do the latter, but if we are to build a systematic theology out of Scripture, it has to be done.

The second article is by Tim Keller of Redeemer Pres (PCA) in New York City. Keller offers his defense of the centrality of the doctrine of hell to Christianity:

The doctrine of hell is crucial-without it we can't understand our complete dependence on God, the character and danger of even the smallest sins, and the true scope of the costly love of Jesus.[...]

We must come to grips with the fact that Jesus said more about hell than Daniel, Isaiah, Paul, John, Peter put together. Before we dismiss this, we have to realize we are saying to Jesus, the pre-eminent teacher of love and grace in history, "I am less barbaric than you, Jesus--I am more compassionate and wiser than you." Surely that should give us pause! Indeed, upon reflection, it is because of the doctrine of judgment and hell that Jesus' proclamations of grace and love are so astounding.

Now, as I pointed out with reference to universalism of Carlton Pearson, the real argument isn't whether Hell in the sense of a place of divine punishment for sins exists. The meaningful argument is whether or not the duration of a persons existence there is perpetual. To this, Keller says

Hell is therefore a prison in which the doors are first locked from the inside by us and therefore are locked from the outside by God (Luke 16:26.) Every indication is that those doors continue to stay forever barred from the inside.

I suppose Keller doesn't see the word "all" in the passages cited in the other article as indications the doors do not stay barred forever. Carlton Pearson disagrees.

I find myself agreeing with both articles. I believe hell is real, and while I think there is significant merit to thinking of the unregenerate life on earth as a foretaste of hell (just as life with the Holy Spirit is a foretaste of heaven), I believe the main thrust of Scripture is that hell is real, terrible, and permanent. However, I'm not convince failure to assert the last adjective of that sentence disqualifies you from God's Kingdom (Did the thief on the cross understand the permanence of hell?). I think it is a virtue to be willing to listen to those who name the name of Christ, assert the trustworthiness of His Word, and disagree on this point.

The folly of what Eric Reitan calls fanaticism (and most of the world refers to these days as fundamentalism) comes from treating everything we think is true as a fundamental. Scripture is amazingly brief in the specific things it tells us to believe that we might be saved. Yes, I believe there are direct implications of those core beliefs. Most of you know I have no shortage of opinions on spiritual matters. But the point is, what I think is a direct implication is not the same thing as "God said so." "Confess that Jesus is Lord, and believe that God raised him from the dead" is not negotiable. But the more areas where I am willing and able to be wrong without losing faith in that, the more teachable I will be. Doesn't mean I have to be blown about; as I said, I'm not convinced by Pearson or what little I've read of Bell. But it means I listen. To do otherwise is, in my view, a failure to put the true fundamentals in their rightful place. It's to believe in what my campus minister used to call "Jesus Plus" something.

There are many idols out there for us to follow. One of them says that divine punishment doesn't exist, or doesn't ultimately matter. It ignores the long history of God's people, and the teachings of wise leaders of the Church. Another says my view of divine punishment is the only one that could ever be true, and everyone else is trying to trick you out of God's arms. It adheres to the words of wise humans as tightly as it adheres to the words of the Creator of the Universe.

I hope we can all do our best to avoid "Jesus Plus."

Keep those comments coming, everyone, I'm totally listening!

News Bulletin: C.S. Lewis Not an Evangelical, Therefore Dangerous

Use caution when reading this man's works.

My friend Gabe pointed me (via a tweet by John Piper: "Kevin DeYoung is more reliable than C.S. Lewis. Yes he is. Not an overstatement.") to this this article by Pastor Kevin DeYoung. DeYoung argues that Lewis' Mere Christianity is a bit *too* mere:

Later Lewis says that “Christ was killed for us” and “His death has washed out our sins” but “any theories we build up as to how Christ’s death did all this are, in my view, quite secondary” (59). This impatience of careful thinking about the atonement is bad enough, but then Lewis goes on to make clear that he rejects the understanding of the atonement evangelicals (and the Bible I would say) find most central and most glorious. [...]

He does believe in a substitutionary theory of the atonement, but he rejects penal substitution. He admits that penal substitution is not quite as silly as it once sounded, but he still does not accept it. Instead, he argues that Christ pays a debt (which is true), but not as a punishment for our sakes.

DeYoung's extra-biblical terminology strongly influences his worldview (a pretty good sign that he is a mechanic, and thus thinks rather differently than a mystic like Lewis), so much that it gives him tunnel vision as to what Lewis could actually be saying. A careful reading of Lewis' statements about penal substitution makes clear that he is not at all familiar with the idea of a covenantal representative, and without covenant headship penal substitution *is* is silly idea. 

DeYoung's second complaint is about Lewis' inclusivism:

Lewis, by contrast, believed in what we might roughly call “anonymous Christians.” That is, people may be saved through Christ without putting explicit faith in Christ.

There are people who do not accept the full Christian doctrine about Christ but who are so strongly attracted by Him that they are His in a much deeper sense than they themselves understand. There are people in other religions who are being led by God’s secret influence to concentrate on those parts of their religion which are in agreement with Christianity, and who thus belong to Christ without knowing it. For example, a Buddhist of good will may be led to concentrate more and more on the Buddhist teaching about mercy and to leave in the background (though he might still say he believed) the Buddhist teaching on certain other points. (178)

No matter how much we may like Lewis, this is simply a profound misunderstanding of the Spirit’s mission (and a rejection of John 14:6). 

DeYoung could use as prooftexts references like "no man comes to the Father except through me," and then logically argue that it must have certain implications for those who have never heard of Jesus. Lewis, on the other hand, might cite as prooftexts statements like "just as condemnation for all people came through one transgression, so too through the one righteous act came righteousness leading to life for all people," and then make his case from there.

The point is that they are both prooftexting, a use of Scripture that looks like something Christ and the apostles did but is actually quite wrong, and they are both extrapolating from Scripture, meaning neither position is unambiguously supported. They're treating their personal conclusions as if they were premises, which any logic teacher should cringe at. And Lewis would argue, I think rightly, that the salvation of a person does not depend on which logical thread a believer finds more convincing. (And just in case you are wondering, I tend to disagree with Lewis on this point. But what DeYoung presents is a poor argument against it.)

So I'd say they're on equally reliable intellectual footing, but where Lewis interprets those he considers wrong with charity, DeYoung sees errors (and is harsh with the one making it) both when they are present and when they aren't. I'll stick with Lewis.

Heaven and Hell, Not So Much?

Turns out it's paved with crappy asphalt like every other road.

Slacktivist is not convinced that Hell works the way we think it does (if it exists at all?).

These three passages aren't the only basis for the belief in Hell as eternal fiery torment, but they provide the strongest evidence to support the idea. And as you can see, this evidence is not really that strong. These passages certainly don't provide any sort of basis for the idea that Hell ought to be a central or essential core belief that shapes our faith, or our concept of God, or our concept of one another or of the meaning of our lives. That's not what these stories are about.

On the other hand, heaven doesn't sound all that heavenly:

Take away every sinful attitude, every capacity for contempt, disdain and disregard and everything that might mute or muzzle conscience. Then take away every physiological or psychological impediment to memory and empathy. Do you see what I mean by terrifying? [...]

And this is Heaven we're talking about -- not Hell, not purgatory. This is our common notion of reward, not of judgement, and yet it seems as though it might be judgement enough -- an almost unbearable judgement, survivable only if accompanied by an overwhelming and overflowing mercy.

Speculation, only speculation. A guess and a wild guess at that.

 If you're looking for more anti-fundamentalist thinking (and not just Christian, for that matter), you might consider watching The Man from Earth.

Libertarian Catechesis?

Ron Paul? Is that you?

Bryan Caplan offers, in the question-answer format of a catechism, one of the most succinct summaries of true libertarian thinking (I'm not talking about the Tea Party here). He summarizes the thinking simply:

These common-sense ethics regarding strangers, ethics that almost everyone admits, are unequivocally libertarian.  Yes, you have an obligation to leave strangers alone, but charity is optional.

The whole post is very much worth reading, as are the first ten or so comments (and probably more).

Now, I am highly sympathetic to libertarian thinking in most dimensions.  If you forced me to categorize my political views, I'd label myself 'pragmatic libertarian,' a term I stole from economist Scott Sumner.  But my political views take a back seat to my Christianity, and it's important to acknowledge that Christianity is *not* a libertarian religion. Think about the One who said these words:

“You have heard that it was said, ‘Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.’ But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also. And if anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, hand over your coat as well. If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with them two miles. Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you.

 “You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? And if you greet only your own people, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that?

And consider that in the story of the good Samaritan, Jesus emphasizes that we are obligated to love even those who hate us (and who we equally hate) if we are to live.  Would this Jesus have agreed with the following?

What are you morally forbidden to do to a stranger?  You may not murder him.  You may not attack him.  You may not enslave him.  Neither may you rob him.

What are you morally required to do for a stranger?  Not much.  Even if he seems hungry and asks you for food, you're probably within your rights to refuse.

Now, part of the problem is that Caplan equates your obligations with another's rights. It is entirely possible for you to be morally obligated to give generously, and yet if you fail in your obligation the beggar has no right to extract from you what your obligations says he is due.  I'll also readily admit that there is an important distinction between being obligated to give generously and being obligated to give to a particular person. Similarly, just because you are morally obligated to give generously doesn't mean it's the duty of the state to extract such giving from you.  There is a lot of room for compatibility between libertarianism and Christianity.
But if we truly take Christ seriously, we *have* to part ways from the libertarians when they say "charity is optional." Charity--uncomfortable, sacrificial charity--is essential to what Christ referenced when he said "Do this and you will live."


Libertarianism doesn't show us our need of the gospel. Real Christianity does.

Skepticism about Scepticism

Would that be Meta-Scepticism? Sckepticism? Bueller?

In any case, this post is a response to a piece by the Venerable Gentleman in which he describes his attitude toward modern science, and nutritional science in particular.  Aside from a link to a story in the Atlantic, the post essentially consists of a rationale and a rejection. The rejection indicates that the Venerable Gentleman (VG hereafter) is unconvinced of the unhealthfulness of drinking, smoking, highly processed food products, or saturated fats of any sort; it also includes a passing stab at Pasteur's germ theory.

The rationale is a bit more forceful:

The physical sciences are indeed brilliant and beautiful in harness, yoked to goals above themselves. But when these are abandoned in the name of Progress, we arrive at the same result as that of the coachman who to speed his horses onward cut their traces: the situation is certainly a vast improvement from their perspective, but the passengers had rather hoped to arrive at Brighton before tea-time.

The argument is that the sciences must be reigned by the Queen of Sciences, Theology.  Unless it is thus bound, it's conclusions are of little value or interest to VG.

But frankly, I'm not convinced.  I don't for a moment believe VG consumes Velveeta because the science that tells him it's unsafe has galloped in unbridled fashion from its theological roots. Why not? Because the only reason we've come to believe Velveeta is food at all is that science told us so.

It was modern physical science, which VG argues has little value in its modernist form, which invented highly processed foods and trans-fats. It was modern physical science which convinced our parents and grandparents' generations that these new inventions were healthy and good, contributions to human advancement thanks to the scientific age. And it is modern physical science which continues to argue that the sources of culinary and olfactory satisfaction for hundreds of generations prior to this scientific era are now dirty, dangerous, and outdated; we should turn to the modern Prometheus's of dietary engineering to provide us new, more potent, more sterile, and more safe forms of food and drink.

No, if I may offer a not-too-seriously-suggested narrative of my own, VG distrusts claims against processed food because his mother gave it to him when he was a wee lad, and his mother wouldn't give him something unsafe. He distrusts claims against the vittles which he loves because he loves them, not because he believes them more moral in character. But these claims are largely made by those outside the mainstream of physical science, those who see science as serving Mammon (meaning corporate profits) as master, a critique far more in line with what VG offers than with his opponents.

Perhaps he has reason to distrust mainstream science, too. After all, his cigar-chomping lush of a grandfather (whose character and very existence I have totally fabricated here) lived to the age of 95 before dying in a sword fight with a pirate, so the causal effect cannot be all that strong, can it? (unless we consider drinking and smoking as contributing factors to encounters with pirates, which come to think of it...)  In any case, though, while VG is free to follow or ignore such advice as he pleases, I must insist that he not try to hide his preference behind the curtain of Theology. I'm on to you, wizard.

Don't Be Too Certain

There's a fascinating graphic from Catherine Rampell that's been making the rounds on the economics blogs:

So what's the biggest problem facing business right now? Paul Krugman points out that it's insufficient demand, and

[...] the best thing government could do to help business would be to spend more, increasing demand. The fact that it's not going to happen doesn't change the fact that it's the simple truth.

Unsurprisingly, Brad DeLong agrees with Krugman, and adds that anyone who disagrees is clearly incompetent.

Tyler Cowen, however, doesn't see it as that clear-cut:

I didn't read this graph the same way. I saw poor sales as a "biggest problem" for fifteen percent (or so) of small businesses in periods of full or near-full employment. I also see "poor sales" as a "biggest problem" for about thirty percent of small businesses today. That change -- about fifteen percent of the total -- struck me as relatively small and indeed puzzlingly small, if indeed we are in a liquidity trap and weak AD is the overwhelmingly dominant problem. [...] I do think weak AD is an important problem to be addressed, I just don't think the absolute levels here imply "end of story."

Russ Roberts adds (like the good Austrian economist that he is) that if taxes plus regulation were a single category, it would take over the top spot from poor sales. Finally, the award for best additional information goes, as it often does, to James Hamilton:

The statement that businesses aren't hiring is simply false. According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics' Job Openings and Labor Turnover Survey, the U.S. private sector hired 3.9 million new workers every month, on average, over the first 7 months of 2010.

But if that's true, then why isn't total employment booming? The answer is that, according to the same JOLTS data, some 3.8 million workers quit or lost their jobs each month on average during Jan-July. [...] the fact that small changes in net employment figures mask a dynamic economy in which there are huge gross changes in employment status for individuals and firms is quite indisputable.

Firms are firing a lot of people, probably because of poor sales. Firms are also hiring a lot of people, just not enough to mask the firings.

So what's the take-away point of all this?

I have to go back to Chris's fascinating post on the rhetoric of the "third way." Although I hate to contend with someone who quotes Lewis, this sort of thing is precisely why we should be reluctant to pick one side to fight for: reality involves a lot more dimensions than partisans can allow themselves to consider. In particular, once we've identified the "most important problem" that needs fixing, we tend to act far more certain in our own conclusions than the evidence allows. We should this pitfall whenever we find it in ourselves.

I know I'll get some flak for this, but I would contend avoiding certainty (in this sense) even extends to spiritual matters, if only because we need to avoid placing our confidence in a favorite interpretation of Scripture rather than in Christ himself. Humility requires that we be willing to let go of a firmly held position and accept "middle things" if we learn we're wrong. If that's true even in matter's of God's Word, how much more true is it for empirical matters like economic and political arguments.

Holding a view like this basically insures I'll never get a job with the CEA or NEC, but then who wants to be Larry Summers, anyway?

This man is always right. Right?

The Nature of Conflict

Economist Robin Hanson has an interesting way of framing how we look at conflict between groups:

 Our fight, of [A] against [B] over [C], is but one battle in the ancient war over [F], along the great divide between [D] and [E]. Many do not realize how many of our apparently mundane conflicts are, in reality, battles in this ancient war. Today is a crucial day in this war, so we must not give up, and we must not lose hope, or someday [D] may lose [F] forever. Fight, fight!

(there are further comments at EconLog, if you're interested)  Hanson notes several group membership divides that can be used for [D] and [E], including "tyrants vs. freedom-lovers, rich vs. poor, faithful vs. heathen, urban vs. rural folk, men vs. women,[...]" and many others. Although it's never spoken of in these terms, I would say a lot of unnecessary conflict occurs along the Mechanics vs. Mystics divide, although most of the time we either like to frame it differently (Hanson's "intellectuals vs. ignoramuses" is a favorite of mechanics, while his "artists vs. undiscerning" seems preferred by mystics). This is an aspect Hanson doesn't explore, although I'm sure he would find it interesting: we often talk about the divide between [D] and [E], not because it is the real dividing line we care about, but because it sounds more important than the divide between [M] and [N].  When we notice and accept that a conflict is along mechanic vs. mystic lines, it becomes a lot easier to communicate and a lot harder to cling to being the "winner" of the conflict.

Aside from that admittedly minor contribution, I find it slightly terrifying to admit this is how many, many Christians I know think about their relationships with the non-Christian world. There is a divide between [D] Christendom and [E] Everybody else (Babylon?), and the war is over [F] civil society / American culture / our Christian nation / etc. Now, I'm not denying that this divide exists, nor that it is important. But I vehemently deny any version of the Christian worldview that says " Today is a crucial day in this war, so we must not give up, and we must not lose hope, or someday Christendom may lose civil society / American culture / our Christian nation / etc forever." If we believe Christianity, then we believe that Christ is God, and that no enemy can even vaguely approximate Him. He cannot lose anything He prefers to win!  Fear of losing something, anything, to the secular world simply doesn't compute with Christianity, and thus Hanson's 'ancient war' framing cannot rightly reflect a Christian view of the 'great divide.'

Again, this doesn't mean I think Christians shouldn't stand up for what they believe is right in public forums. Far from it. But we need to remember that we're not fighting a battle against an entrenched foe who may yet win the day if our courage fails.  We are spreading the world---with the gentle bedside manner of an oncologist (or the compassionate friend of an addict)---that sunrise is almost here, and will soon be here whether we want to keep our drunken nighttime revelry going or not. The change of seasons is not a war we need to win; it is a part of the nature of the world that we do well to keep in mind. And so it is with the victory of Christ.

What After the Three Rs?

What should students learn after they are literate and numerate at a functional level? Here's one argument for why mathematical proofs matter. Matt Rognlie offers some pros and cons of studying 'classics' (although he is less charitable towards some than others).

This question is tricky because it's really a matter of the purpose of education, but in a very specific sense. If we want to satisfy the consumption goal, should students read To Kill a Mockingbird? I mean, I loved it, but a lot of people don't. What about The Old Man and the Sea? That one I couldn't stand. From a consumption perspective, shouldn't we be telling everyone to read more Tolkien? Or letting students choose from an array of comic books? How do we know what readings now will give students more satisfaction in ten and twenty years time?

If, on the other hand, we are after productivity, then all education tends to become vocational, doesn't it? We could argue back and forth a bit about how best to develop "critical thinking skills" and other abstract tools many workers will need, but in general the idea becomes clear: let students try many things, and as they demonstrate interest or aptitude in one, narrow down their training to the specific skills they'll use in that profession. This makes moving between different kinds of jobs more difficult, but these days it usually doesn't pay to be a generalist.

If it's signaling we want to promote, of course, then we have a bit more leeway. The goal is to show a willingness and ability to endure the kinds of pain that you would only do if you really had the traits and talents employers are looking for. Of course, there are lots of ways to endure pain; Hemingway is just one option. Knowledge bowl with canings for the loser would work just as well.

Different cultures have relied on different mixes of these goals throughout history, and some are easier to figure out than others. China has had, since ancient times, a major emphasis on exams determining vocation; it seems to me that this is primarily a signaling education. In aristocratic societies, it seems to largely be a matter of consumption. Western societies have for at least a couple centuries now focused on creating workers with identical skill sets---particularly the "don't question the boss" skill---well suited for factory work, call centers, or middle management.

What should the mix of educational goals look like? What would education that served this mix well look like? What mix(es) would be acceptable from a Christian worldview, and are there any that must be categorically rejected?

(PS - I know some readers may want to say that none of these goals is in line with a Christian worldview, since the goal of education should be "raising children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord," and ultimately God's glory comes above all other goals. Well, OK, sure. I contend that you're still going to promote God's glory by nurturing and admonishing in a way that combines consumption, productivity, and signaling. The question is what types of consumption, productivity, and signaling best promote God's glory, and what combinations implicitly refuse to nurture and admonish. So I'm not looking for a Mardel's answer, nor even the Reformed equivalent. Dig deep here, people.)

Truth Claim of the Day

Christ is infinitely more important than Christianity and always will be, no matter what Christianity is, has been or might become.

Please, discuss. The context is here.