Tweeking the Teacher

[Background: I'm enrolled in an on-line writing course entitled 'Writing the Philosophical Essay". 

For $600 I receive no instruction and lots of nonsense about the supposed superiority of Nietzsche (of 'God is dead' fame).  As a no-extra-charge bonus, we learn of the stupidity of Christians.  Thus far we have not studied any rhetorical techniques. Nor have we been given any guidelines on how to evaluate good writing from bad.  In the discussion forum, I had posted that I believe Nietzsche is overrated as both a thinker and a philosopher.  For some reason the response of the professor was to accuse Christians of bloodshed.  I guess it makes sense to him.  

In the response the reader will notice some very grandiose statements. No, I did not forget to take my meds before writing. I'm merely adopting Nietzsche's words for fun.

I proudly continue my 40 year tradition of tweeking teachers. It keeps life interesting.]

Professor:

I don't recall you asking the question about the people killed, tortured, and maimed in the name of Christ. However I will gladly respond.

Jesus said, “My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight” (John 18:36) There is no verse in the New Testament in which Christians are told to be violent. Nor is this idea ever implied.

The only possible exception is found in Matthew 10. There Jesus says, “Do not think I have come to bring peace to earth, but a sword”. But even with this, the surrounding verses demonstrate that Jesus is speaking metaphorically.

I know of no one who seriously contends that Jesus advocated violence of any kind toward others. But I suspect you know I am correct on this. I note the actual question you ask: “How many have been killed...*in the name of Christ*?” (emphasis added). This is a categorically different from a question which asks, “How many people died because Jesus couldn't think or speak clearly?”

To your credit, you have not insinuated that Jesus was a poor communicator. You have simply pointed out a historical reality: Evil things have been done by those who “claim” his name as justification for their actions. People claim all sorts of things, but that doesn't mean all claims are valid.

What I am doing is far more audacious than you. I assert that Nietzsche can be correctly understood to be advocating real violence against real people. Multiplying the magnitude of my offense, I argue that such a will to power is portrayed by Nietzsche to be a 'moral' act in a universe which has no God. To Nietzsche, life is survival of the fittest, and that's all. “Ecce Homo!”

Yet I must temper and qualify my claim. While brazen and audacious, I am not ignoring the testimony of experts. Because I am so wise, I accept the argument of expert after expert about how poor “Little Jesus” Nietzsche was simply misunderstood.

“Why, he wasn't actually intending for people to get hurt or die!” cry the experts.

“That's a gross misunderstanding by people who didn't read the whole thing!” bemoan the apologists.

And thus the magnanimity of my great soul! Being the fair and humble learner that I am, I genuinely accept their protests: Poor little Freddie is simply a tortured soul who just can't seem to catch a break. Thug after thug, despot after despot continue tofind inspiration, solace, and justification for the evil they unleash upon the world. And its all because our poor dear Frederich is simply misunderstood. The poor thing!

It is this understanding which brings me down from my lofty heights and removes my tongue from my cheek and lays it back down where it belongs. And now I ask one simple, innocent question:

“If Nietzsche is so widely misunderstood, then why would we want to emulate him as writers?”

Before saying 'good night', there is one more tasty little observation that is too good for me to keep to myself: I can't think of a great work of mercy, compassion, or love which has been performed in Nietzsche's memory or in the memory of his faithful disciples.

This observation leads to another: People who read and comprehend Jesus' words are motivated to heal the sick, help the weak, and love the unlovely. In doing so, they make the world a better place. In contrast, a fair reading of Nietzsche's words leads people to get rid of the sick, weak, and undesirable to make more room for the strong.

Again I ask: Some people love their neighbors, others kill them. Which do you prefer?

Sysiphus: Camus' Absurd and Tragic Hero

In “The Myth of Sysiphus”, Camus presents humanity as doomed to an eternity of struggle and pointlessness. He represents this by an absurd and tragic hero, Sysiphus.

According to Camus, humanity is being punished for an unspecified crime: The judge never reads the charges to the accused. Nor does he render his ruling before commencing the sentence. Rather we are taken away and held incommunicado while god watches the resulting struggle with sadistic glee. While this characterization alone would be cause enough for despair, Camus presents man's plight as even more desperate. His god doesn't merely watch as Sisyphus pushes the rock. This amoral force actively hopes that Sysiphus is crushed with despair.

As I read “The Myth of Sysiphus” I was reminded of Stoppard's play “Rosencranz and Guildenstern are Dead”. In the play, two minor characters from Hamlet are re-cast as bumbling idiots who represent all of mankind. Through their mishaps, the audience is made to understand that life is nothing more than a sequence of random and chaotic events, all of which are ultimately meaningless. They engage in senseless conversations, ask questions and promptly forget what was asked and why, and they commence a long voyage. Shortly after casting off, they forget where they are going, what they are supposed to do, and who sent them. Yet through all of these absurdities, they have indications of a divine intelligence. Specifically Rosencranz and Guildenstern flip a coin 100 times, each resulting in 'heads'. The characters are wise enough to recognize the near impossibility of the results. But they are foolish enough that they don't pursuit the matter, choosing instead to satisfy themselves with superficial speculation. In Act III, Guildenstern says, “We move idly towards eternity, without possibility of reprieve or hope of explanation”. To which Rosencranz provides a Camus-like reply: “Be happy. If you're not even happy, what's so good about surviving? We'll be all right. I suppose we just go on”

Likewise, in Camus' world view, we are thrust into a world which doesn't make sense. We must endure unrelenting hardship and monotonous tasks which have no apparent purpose or plan. During the trials, there is evidence of an intelligent force behind life. Yet we content ourselves in superficial descriptions of its presence rather than undertaking serious inquiry into the nature of divine character and revelation. We could choose to despair at our plight. But if we do so, we yield to the loathsome, terrible decree of Camus' Wholly Unknown.

For Camus, humanity's appropriate response to a dismal situation is a gritty determination. We must not yield to despair. He desires that we go forth unbowed and unbroken, and by sheer force of will, we must choose to embrace our fate with happiness. In doing so, the sadistic god's power is nullified.

Yet it is this approach which makes Camus so tragic: He acknowledges mankind's free will as evidenced by Sysiphus' ability to choose a particular response. But Camus fails to use humanity's free will to probe his world and his supposed fate. How does Camus know that Sysiphus must actually do the task at all? Not only is this not explained, the question is not even broached. Perhaps with some exploration, Camus might discover that Sysiphus' punishment is not from some sadistic god, but a self imposed state from the mind of a masochistic Sysiphus.

How tragic to discover that punishment was a voluntary choice when freedom was readily available.

Bell's Hells

I've just finished reading and ruminating over Rob Bell's book, Love Wins. When I ordered the book I had plenty of presumptions of what it would be. I figured the book was primarily going to be a discussion about how hell doesn't exist.

I was wrong.

I figured I was in for a slick repackaging of annihilationism – the idea that God is so loving that he vaporizes the unsaved instead of sending them to hell.

I was wrong again.

Before buying the book, I read several reviews which described Bell as a recycled universalist. I figured that was probably an overblown reaction.

Strike three, I'm out.

Bell's book is an argument that eternity -both heaven and hell- begin here and now. At least one of these two eternities (hell) is limited to this earthly life.

To Bell, hell isn't a place where “billions of people spend forever somewhere in the universe trapped in a black hole of endless torment and misery with no way out” (110). Instead hell is just a “serious word to describe the very real consequences we experience when we reject the good and true and beautiful life that God has for us” (93). He envisions multiple hells, all of which are temporal and temporary, never permanent. He also believes they are willingly chosen by people. They are not the result of Divine judgment:

“It is absolutely vital that we acknowledge that love, grace, and humanity can be rejected. From the most subtle rolling of the eyes, to the most violent degradation of another human, we are terrifyingly free to do as we please. God gives us what we want, and if that's hell, we can have it. We have that kind of freedom, that kind of choice. We are that free. We can use machetes if we want to” (72).

He repeats this theme in chapter four:

“Love demands freedom. It always has, and it always will. We are free to resist, reject, and rebel against God's ways for us. We can have all the hell we want... I see this every day, and so do you. People choose to live in their own hells all the time. We do it every time we isolate ourselves, give the cold shoulder to someone who has slighted us, every time we harden our hearts in defiance of what we know to be the loving, good, and right thing to do” (113-114)

But what does Bell think happens to the souls of those who have chosen hell? Frustratingly, he doesn't provide any answer of what happens, only his speculation of what does not happen. Specifically, he rules out any option which would prohibit God from redeeming souls after they die: “There must be some kind of 'second chance' for those who don't believe in Jesus in this lifetime” (106). Thus we can rule out annihilation. And we can rule out the traditional protestant view of hell. But since he doesn't postulate a view, we are left to speculate.

Perhaps Bell's view is that the unsaved are held in some sort of place that's just “ok”. Perhaps he envisions a spiritual Howard Johnson's with a pool and continental breakfast: Something that's not so great that you want to stay, but not something so bad that you wish you were anywhere else but there. Or maybe he imagines God as a good parent who sends a bratty kid to his room. The kid may not like being restricted, but at least he's safe and has his favorite toys to occupy him until he calms down and apologizes.

For Bell, God's omnipotence requires that God have the ability to save somebody at anytime. Anything else would be incongruous with God's love:

“Could God say to someone truly humbled, broken and desperate for reconciliation, 'Sorry too late'? Many have refused to accept the scenario in which somebody is pounding on the door, apologizing, repenting, and asking God to be let in, only to hear God say through the keyhole: 'Door's locked. Sorry. If you had been here earlier, I could have done something. But now it's too late' “(108)

Bell believes that God will ultimately redeem all of creation. He believes redemption is what God wants, and what God wants, God gets: The unsaved will come into relationship with God either in this life, or after death. No exceptions.

I've been pondering Bell's book for the past few days: What if Bell is right? What if hell is just an expression. Could it be that it's only the experience of bad choices we make? What if everyone ultimately gets saved like he says?

Jesus sent his followers in the world to make disciples (Matt 28:19). But he warned of the cost of going:

“Brother will betray brother to death, and a father his child; children will rebel against their parents and have them put to death. All men will hate you because of me, but he who stands firm to the end will be saved” (Matt 10:21-22).

And he was right. Millions have been brutally tortured and killed in the most hideous of ways because of the good news that they were delivering. What was this good news? According to Bell, the good news is that ultimately in the end 'love wins': What a person believes (or doesn't) has no bearing on eternity. Everyone gets into heaven. The only question is how soon they get to start enjoying it.

But does this view make sense?  What kind of God would send people to live extreme hardship and die brutal deaths to deliver an utterly meaningless message?

From National Tragedy to National Disgrace

On Saturday, January 8, horror struck America again.

For reasons not yet known, a gunman opened fire in a grocery store parking lot in Tucson, Arizona. Brave citizens wrestled the gunman down, but not before six people were killed, including a Federal judge and a 9 year old girl.  13 people were wounded, including U.S. Congressman Gabrielle Giffords who remains in critical condition.

Initial reports indicate that the suspect, 22 year old Jared Lee Loughner, specifically targeted Giffords, a Democrat. While no clear motive has been publicly released, Sheriff Clarence Dupnik was quick with his his suspicions. Media outlets such as National Public Radio passed them on:

There is reason to believe, he said, that the shooting suspect "may have a mental issue," adding that people like that "are especially susceptible to vitriol."

NPR: "'Vitriol' Cited As Possible Factor In Arizona Tragedy"

In one sentence, Dupnik managed to turn a national tragedy into a national disgrace. The slain and wounded were made subservient to the political agenda of the sheriff. There was a crisis to be exploited, and he pounced. Sorry mourning families, the political monster must be fed.

Not only was this an instance of brazen political opportunism,  it was a despicable exploitation of the mentally ill.

In essence, what Dupnik was saying is this: 'The mentally ill are out there waiting for any excuse to fly into murderous rampages. We know that Rush Limbaugh, Glenn Beck, and Sean Hannity incite people to violence. So if you don't want crazy people mowing your families down, you need to shut them up!'

As a man who has mental illness -including psychotic breaks- I profusely object to Dupnik's own vitriolic rant and its implications.

There are millions of us out there who have some form of mental illness. Depending upon the study, anywhere from 1/10^th to 1/4^th of Americans have a condition that shows up in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. As for me, I have Bipolar Disorder, obsessive compulsive disorders, hallucinations, and a whole laundry list of quirks that are annoying and sometimes pretty funny.

Yes, some mental illnesses may have 'triggers'. But don't buy into the ignorance displayed by Sheriff Dupnik. Some patients might be set off by 'vitrol' as Dupnik declared. But each situation is unique. There is no universal 'trigger' as Dupnik would imply.

The sheriff's flippant remarks only feed common stereotypes.  Yes, the mentally ill can become violent.  However it is usually the patient harming himself or herself when 'triggered'. Only a very small percentage of those with mental illness commit violence against others. Suicide rates for bipolar patients and schizophrenics reach about 15%. Self inflicted injury rates that don't result in death are much higher, and occur so frequently that accurate measurement is not possible.

While there is no universal trigger to mental illness, there is one common factor: 100% of mentally ill people are made in the image of God.  Therefore, we are entitled to the same respect and basic courtesy due to all humans. We are not pawns in some sick political game.  Shame on Sheriff Dupnik for allowing us to be used as such!

As a nation, we must mourn the senseless deaths, pray for the injured, and make sure the guilty are brought to justice. What we should not do is allow a national tragedy become a national disgrace as the Sheriff is doing.

The Chronicles of Narnia: A Purist's Review

Once Upon a Time in a land called Narnia...

When Nazi Germany was in its death throes, an Irish-born Professor of Literature at Oxford began writing a fairytale to his Goddaughter, Lucy. From the opening, the reader understood that this would be a tale in the vein of the great works of old:

"Once there were four children whose names were Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy. This story is about something that happened to them when they were sent away from London during the war because of the air-raids."

The language was simple, straightforward, and invited all children to escape this world's wars and travel to a wonderful 'other' land: A place in which good triumphed over evil, and children reigned. Their rule was just and they "saved good trees from being unnecessarily cut down, and liberated young dwarfs and young satyrs from being sent to school, and generally stopped busybodies and interferers and encouraged ordinary people who wanted to live and let live" (180). Ever since its first publication, The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe, as well as the other volumes in the series, has been providing great escapes for children (and at least one adult) during the past 55 years.

Reservations

Given my affection for the book, you might be surprised to learn that I was not pleased that this book was being turned into a motion picture. Rarely does a movie 'do justice' to a book, especially children's literature. In some cases, the results are so bad they should be decried as fraud, as in the hatchet job Disney did to Lloyd Alexander's 'The Black Cauldron". (For crying out loud, the man won a Newberry Award for one of the books in the series…couldn’t Disney have shown him at least a little respect?)

I also was concerned about how any film would deal with the messianic symbolism which Lewis used. Contrary to popular Christian belief, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe is not a direct analogy of the New Testament Jesus. Rather, Lewis was trying to present both Christian and moral truth in such a way that would not be hindered by existing prejudices. He was being creative in the vein of Edmund Spencer's "The Fairie Queen": An independent story with an allegorical core. If the screenwriter and director ignored the very clear moral and religious symbolism, it would be a travesty. If overplayed, it could violate Lewis' goal of "stealing past the watchful dragons" which block us from understanding our undeserved opportunity of redemption.* An overhyped stone table scene might also provoke public ridicule: I could easily see some derisively calling the film 'The Passion of the Big Cat'.

My final reservation regarded the public's special effects expectations. The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe is a classic good vs. evil children's book. Yet I had read and heard some expectation of it being in the same vein as 'The Lord of the Rings' series of films, which are mostly dark and foreboding. Furthermore, the Tolkien series were not childrens books, making a comparison completely unfair. I worried that the director might try to make Narnia more disturbing than originally intended by Lewis. Thus, I held my breath, expecting the worst.

Reality

I am pleased to report that my fears were completely unfounded on all counts. The screenplay by Ann Peacock is amazingly accurate to the book. There are some differences between the book and the film, but they are inconsequential. For instance, the movie opens with a German bombing run over London. The Pevensie children and their mother rush for a bomb shelter amidst chaos. Suddenly Edmund leaves the shelter and runs back to the house to get a photograph of their father who is in the military. Peter dashes after him, and both are nearly killed by a Luftwaffe bomb. This scene is not in the book, but is perfectly acceptable. It visually establishes the need for the children to be sent into the country, as well as the tense interrelationships among the siblings. Other differences will be discussed later.

Director Andrew Adamson (of 'Shrek' fame) helps keep the Narnia world magical for this purist through his keen attention to detail. For example, when Lucy first enters Narnia she meets a faun by the name of Mr. Tumnus. Adamson faithfully depicts this meeting by matching the film to the book in even the smallest of details: Tumnus (James MacAvoy) is carrying brown paper parcels and drops them in surprise when he meets Lucy. After meeting one another, Mr. Tumnus offers Lucy a roaring fire, toast, and sardines at his house. When they arrived at his house, Lucy examines his bookshelf. One of the books is entitled "Is Man a Myth". All of these events are exactly as described in the book.

I was particularly impressed with the inclusion of this last item , even though the viewer must be alert to catch it, because it goes to the director's determination to capture the mind of Lewis. This book on the faun's shelf represents Lewis' wit on two levels: First, Fauns are mythological characters, and man once wondered if they were real.  Second, Lewis was an avowed atheist for 33 years of his life. He tried to convince people that God was a myth. Kudos to Adamson for capturing this seemingly small point and including the book on the shelf.

Casting 'Narnia'

The four Pevensie children are immensely believable as Lewis' Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy. William Moseley turns in a faithful performance as Peter: He is cautious and protective, yet ultimately valiant. Initially I was not fond of his battle scene performances: He seemed too timid, and flailed around with his sword. But upon reexamination of the text, I believe Adamson directed him perfectly:

"Peter did not feel very brave; indeed he felt he was going to be sick. But that made no difference to what he had to do. He rushed straight up to the monster and aimed a slash of his sword at its side. That stroke never reached the wolf" (127).

Lewis' Peter did not posses greatness by might of sword, or by confidence in armies. Rather it was in the indefatigable confidence he had in Aslan. So too is the Peter of Adamson's film.

Skandar Keynes turns in a fine performance as Edmund, and Susan is correctly portrayed as gentle and graceful by Anna Popplewell.

However, the real star -and grand larcenist of the show- is Lucy, played by Georgie Henley, who was 8 years old during most of the filming.

It's not merely that she is cute which makes her so captivating. Rather it's the enthusiasm with with which she plays the part.   As with the book, the film's Lucy whole heartedly believes that people, including Mr. Tumnus, are good. She is mortified when she finds out someone has been bad, yet somehow never becomes jaded. She is always forgiving and loving, and ultimately represents the healing power of the Christian faith. All of these qualities are part of Lewis' Lucy, and radiate throughout Henley's portrayal.

While Lucy may ultimately steal the show, a very close second in the category is the hauntingly beautiful White Witch:

"But behind him (the dwarf)... sat a very different person- a great lady, taller than any woman than Edmund had ever seen. She also was covered in white fur up to her throat and held a long straight golden wand in her right hand and wore a golden grown on her head. Her face was white- not merely pale, but white like snow or paper or icing sugar, except for her very red mouth. It was a beautiful face in other respects, but proud and cold and stern” (27).

Once again, Adamson 'gets it right' (crown aside) by casting Tilda Swinton in this role. She delivers lines with verve; transfixes her subjects with a stare that can only be described as 'icy', and her Nordic features make her appear as if she truly belongs in near-tundra environs.

In wonderful contrast to Swinton is Liam Neeson, as the voice of Aslan. His smooth baritone gives no hint of worry or alarm of the events as they unfold.  He is the sovereign ruler, and like God, is never surprised when events turn out as they do. This is consistent with Lewis' work.

Notable Differences

While the film is quite faithful to the original book, there are some inconsequential, yet notable differences. Mr. Fox is one such difference. In the movie, he is presented as a cunning representative of Aslan, however in the book he is merely the spokesman of a party who are enjoying presents delivered by Father Christmas (111). The children's encounter with Father Christmas is another digression from Lewis' narrative.

The Story's Climax: Film vs. Book

The most significant divergence, however, comes toward the end of the film in the climatic battle scene. While I did not time it, I believe it ran at least 20 minutes. Interestingly enough, however, Lewis’ account of the battle runs three paragraphs. The book devotes an entire chapter to Aslan ransoming creatures that had been turned to stone by the White Witch; the movie gives the subject a mere few moments. It is on this point that I take exception with the screenwriter and director. Lewis was a very purposeful author. It is not by accident that he devoted nearly a tenth of the book to the freeing of the statues, and only 1% to the final battle scene.

In chapter sixteen, "What Happened About the Statues", we meet some wonderful characters that are not in the movie: Giant Rumblebuffin is noticeably absent. Also missing from the movie is the unnamed 'other lion' who provides a great deal of comic relief in the book by excitedly declaring to Susan and Lucy:

"Did you hear what he said? Us lions. That means him and me. Us lions. That's what I like about Aslan. No side, no stand-off-ishness. Us lions. That meant him and me." (172).

There is more at stake than the mere loss of humor, however. The 'other' lion presents a key element of Lewis' view of the incarnation and resurrection of Christ: There is now no ‘stand-off-ishness’ with God; He is man's brother as well as King. It’s a shame the movie missed this.

For Lewis, the climax of the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe occurred at the stone table, and was juxtaposed with the apparent triumph of the White Witch. The subsequent freeing of the captives by Aslan was undoubtedly more important to Lewis than the battle scene of the Free Narnians vs. the ghoulish army of the White Witch. For Lewis, the victorious battle had already occured at the stone stable. The battle against the White Witch's army was a mere formality.

With these complaints registered, however, I have no choice but to say that I understand why the director chose to emphasize the battle scene. This is a movie, not a book. What 'works' on paper often fails visually. If Peacock (the scriptwriter) and Adamson went strictly 'by the book', this would be a mediocre film at the very best. The director switched emphasis for the sake of making a good film. As such, switching content emphasis from the freeing of the stone statues to the climatic battle scene is completely justified, in my opinion. There was very little decay from Lewis' intentions as best as I can divine it. In the movie, Aslan still frees the captives, keeping all of the important elements.

Conclusion

In conclusion, this is a 'must see' movie for anyone who is a fan of Lewis' work, children's literature, or of great filmmaking. It is not a dark fantasy epic a la 'The Lord of the Rings', and presents a classic good triumphs over evil theme. It contains the rich sybolism of the Christian faith without being overbearing, just the way Lewis would have wanted it.

It is my understanding that the script for Prince Caspian has already been approved by the estate of C.S. Lewis. Now, if they would only make a movie of Lewis' Ransom Trilogy, I’d be ecstatic.
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* For a greater understanding of Lewis' 'watchful dragons' analogy, see his essay entitled "Sometimes Fairy Stories May Say Best What's to Be Said"

Quotes taken from Lewis, C.S. The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. New York: Collier Books, 21st ed, 1976.

Photographs from http://www.imdb.com.

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First Snow

We received nearly 13 inches of snow today, turning our front yard and woods into a proverbial 'winter wonderland'. I took this photo from our front yard looking out to the woods during the heaviest of the snowfall.

Will there be Baseball in Heaven?

This is the second of two pieces written by my father. Please refer to 'Was the Child Jesus Ever a Brat?' for the first.

Greystone

Will there be Baseball in Heaven?

Friends:

This is the second of my two questions, and it too is meant to be taken seriously.

Will there be baseball in heaven? Like most persons of discriminating tastes, I love baseball. Of all sports it is the most nearly divinely-ordained, in my opinion.

However, recently I have been musing on whether this pleasure will be continued in the next life, and, much to my dismay, I have concluded it will not. I am so unhappy about this that, although I still prefer heaven to the alternative location, my anticipation has been significantly diminished.

Now, of course, a similar question could be asked also of other games, but they too will be impossible there, I think, as I will explain. However, baseball is the only sport I would miss. The next best game is American football, but that is a distant second on my preference list, and basketball is merely a girls' game, so who cares about it?

Some will bring up soccer, but that to me is an un-American game, alien to our culture and one which should not be corrupting our youth as it now so widely does. Indeed, in my opinion, soccer should be banned by all of our states, and I would support legislation to make it a federal crime to transport youth across state lines for soccer purposes.

Here is the reason I think all athletic contests will be not only unlikely in heaven but impossible: we know from Scripture that heaven is a place where everything goes perfectly well. No mistakes are ever made in heaven, or else it would not be heaven.

So, how could one baseball team surpass another? For example, for a pitcher perfection is to throw a strike every time, while perfection for a batter is a hit with every swing! Both cannot happen, and I am nonplussed and deeply troubled. Someone please help me ASAP.

FJC

Was the Child Jesus Ever a Brat?

This is the first of two pieces written by my father, originally for a small, Christian theology discussion group. My Dad is a combination of wit, class, poignancy, and sincere devotion. Perhaps the funniest part of this piece and "Will there be Baseball in Heaven" is that he is perfectly serious in these vexing questions.

Greystone

'Was the Child Jesus Ever a Brat?'

Friends:

In an effort to lighten the theological discussion now raging I will post two questions for new and happier debates. This post contains question #1, and the second will follow shortly.

Although the questions may seem amusing, they are meant to be serious. I do not know the answer to these queries, but perhaps better minds than mine may be of assistance.

Was the child Jesus ever a brat? Now, every child I know, no matter how well-behaved ususally, has his difficult times when he drives his parents to despair by his behavior. Did the holy Son of God sometimes agitate Joseph and Mary the same way?

Is it possible that the sinless, perfect Messiah disobeyed and even defied his parents? Did they ever have to spank his holy rear end? Can we imagine Mary or Joseph screaming at the Lamb of God?

This to me is a great mystery: how could human perfection not be perfect at all times and in all circumstances? If his sinless perfection began later in life, when was that change and what caused him to change?

I don't want to give up my belief that the God-man, Jesus, never erred in any way. Is there anyone who can help me?

FJC