Finding the Words to Say Goodbye (or Not)

I spent time with my dad when he was in a hospice in 2004, and he died there on December 20th of that year. We never had a final "goodbye" conversion. I new he was near the end, although I thought I'd have a chance to go visit him again. But I got the call from the social worker saying he'd passed. Weird, that. It wasn't my sister who called me. It was his social worker.

Anyway, my advice is not to wait too long to say goodbyes if you think things are coming to the end for a loved one. But some people don't even tell their friends and family that they're dying.

See this piece at the New York Times, "Exit Lines."

Netanyahu's Christmas Greeting 2012

Via Linkmaster Smith:

Neil Heslin, Father of Jesse Lewis, Killed in Newtown Shooting, Spends Christmas Eve Graveside

I cried listening to this interview a couple of days after the shooting. Not shaking, sobbing crying. Just crying in my soul for this man and his unbearable loss. My wife saw this later after I'd seen it and she said, "He was still in shock."

The story's at the New York Post, "Alone together: Grieving dad at Jesse’s grave."

I get a little misty watching it again at the clip.

National Review's Newtown Symposium

For some reason NRO's editors thought it smart to put Charlotte Allen's not-enough-men essay first in its recent symposium on the massacre. I don't know. As the father of a husky 11-year-old boy, I doubt I'm the best advocate for a bunch of husky (11 or) 12-year-old boys "gang rushing" a grown man wielding a semi-automatic rifle shooting fragmenting bullets. Megan McArdle made the "gang rush" argument as well (about which here). There may be some circumstances during a mass shooting that such virtual human sacrifice defense methods succeed in dragging down the shooter, or bowling him over, or whatever, but it defies common sense for a rational-thinking child to summon up that much foolish bravado. If anything, I suspect someone would sooner jump between the line of fire to save a dear friend, as what happened during the Aurora shooting. That "gang rush" thing sounds more like a bum rush at this point.

That said, this was actually an excellent symposium: "Newtown Answers."

A couple I like especially, for example, from Jim Daly:

As parents, we must help our children navigate a corrosive culture. We can do this by encouraging and championing a strong moral foundation. Morals help to maintain order in the culture. It’s become en vogue in some circles to consider that morality is relative, that good and bad are subjective. But as we were reminded this past Friday, nothing could be further from the truth.

The best news in the darkest of times is that God has not given up on us. He is in the middle of the mayhem. He now holds these precious little children in His arms. And as we mourn we must hold tightly to the hope and promises of His Word, that He truly is “Our Everlasting Father and Prince of Peace.”

From David French:

Thousands of years ago, a man named Job faced the horrible, violent death of his children. He begged God for reasons for his calamity. He pled his case at great length and with great eloquence. Yet when God finally answered, the response was not what Job hoped. The God of the universe answered Job by essentially declaring that He was God, and Job was not. So Job literally placed his hand over his mouth and trusted in the God who he could not fully understand.

Our lives are full of the inexplicable — virtuous men die at evil hands, good men fail while bad men succeed, and justice is forever elusive — but like Job, we must trust our Creator, the God who gave us life and loved us enough to send a Savior. When all words fail, we trust, we pray, and we rely on a promise:

“Blessed are those who mourn; for they shall be comforted.”

May God fulfill that promise for the victims and families of Sandy Hook Elementary School.

From Father Gerald Murray:

The Feast of the Holy Innocents on December 28 is a reminder that violence and mass murder have been part of the human condition since the Fall of Man. Innocent boys were slaughtered by the evil Herod. The senseless act of violence at Sandy Hook Elementary School is a shocking instance of the ever-present possibility that a man will choose to do unimaginable crimes. We are stunned by such murderous hatred, which is diabolical in nature and gravely offends our natural instincts and our religious convictions. What can console us and reassure us?

Sympathy and kindness towards the grieving are important and necessary, but man cannot restore what has been destroyed. The only true and lasting consolation that the Church can offer to those who mourn the untimely death of their loved ones is the Divinely revealed truth that this life is but a preparation for life eternal in Heaven. Those who die are in the hands of a Good God.

May the knowledge of God’s goodness console those who now live in such great sorrow, yet are sustained by the hope of being reunited one day with their loved ones in Heaven.

And the essay by Emily Stimson stands alone, so I'd rather not block quote it. Go read it all at the symposium.

And again, why the editors placed Charlotte Allen's up front is a mystery. She's written response to her critics, for what it's worth: "Newtown & My Critics." (via Memeorandum).

Angry Atheism Drove Nativity Scenes From Santa Monica

An awesome commentary, from Rabbi Michael Gotlieb, at the Los Angeles Times, "Santa Monica Ban on Religious Displays Leaves Us All Poorer":

Today's atheism is different from the atheism of the 18th, 19th and 20th centuries. Nietzsche, Russell and Voltaire did not gloat over the presumed death or nonexistence of God. There was no triumphalism in their assertions. While not enamored of organized religion, they did not view it as a singular force for evil.

Things have changed. Outspoken, angry 21st century atheists like Richard Dawkins, Sam Harris and the late Christopher Hitchens have sought to eradicate God and organized religion from the planet; faith-based religion in any form is unacceptable to them. When studying these modern-day thinkers, the late Herbert Marcuse's lament proves fitting and prescient: "We, no matter the side, become fanatical in our own anti-fanaticism."

Today's atheists hold that religion educates children and adults to hate in the name of their pious doctrines. Religion, they tell us, encourages followers to engage in God-directed slaughter and conquest of innocents. Its mission is to convert skeptics — or worse, subdue nonbelievers — until the whole world buckles.

The truth is, they're partly right. There have always been people who commit evil in the name of God and religion. They do indeed give religion and God a horrible name. Such behavior is perverse, inexcusable and, of course, sinful.

But today's atheists are as extreme in their convictions as the fire-and-brimstone believer. The resolute follower knows beyond any doubt that God exists, whereas the atheist knows beyond any doubt that God is a figment of the imagination. I'm reminded of the aphorism: To the believer there are no questions; to the atheist, there are no answers.

As a Jew and a rabbi, my speaking out in support of Christians who wish to display a Nativity scene on public land can potentially carry more weight than a priest or minister speaking out. The reason is simple: It's not my religious narrative. More important, faithful Christians do not threaten me. If anything, I'm inspired by them. By definition, different people from different faiths view God and religion differently.

In the meantime, Santa Monica, where I live and serve a congregation, is less festive, bright and accepting this Christmas season. And given my city's current municipal policy — one that forbids the use of public.

So true. One more example of progressives making everybody less well off.

But read the whole thing.

Scientists Show That Unborn Babies Yawn Repeatedly in the Womb

At LifeNews, "Amazing 4-D Ultrasound Captures Baby Yawning in the Womb."

Amusing Bunni ROLL CALL!

Zilla put out the call the other day, "ROLL CALL! Amusing Bunni needs us RIGHT NOW!"

I just hit Bunni's tip jar, which is accessible through Zilla's entry. I meant to get to it earlier, but I'm just now having some down time with the Thanksgiving holiday.

Bunni's got incurable cancer of the liver. If you can, hit her tip jar and say a prayer or two as well.

Bunni's page is here.

Wishing you as much health and happiness of God's grace during this season, Bunni.

Catholic Bishops Denounce Joe Biden's ObamaCare Lies

Freedom Eden has the report from the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops, "Catholic Bishops' Statement on Joe Biden's Lies." (At Memeorandum.)

And here's the new Romney ad, "Who Shares Your Values?":

Keeping the Faiths

Today, the entire academy, and especially those of us who are part of the American historical profession, owe a profound debt of thanks to several of our colleagues for a truly thankless task:  fighting the farcical, fraudulent, fatuous pseudo-historical pseudo-scholarship of David Barton.

In case you haven't heard, the Thomas Nelson publishing company has decided to stop the presses on Barton's infamous book The Jefferson Lies, and pull all copies from distribution.   Thomas Kidd, who broke the story yesterday at World Magazine, reports:

Casey Francis Harrell, Thomas Nelson’s director of corporate communications, told me the publishing house “was contacted by a number of people expressing concerns about [The Jefferson Lies].” The company began to evaluate the criticisms, Harrell said, and “in the course of our review learned that there were some historical details included in the book that were not adequately supported. Because of these deficiencies we decided that it was in the best interest of our readers to stop the publication and distribution.”

I don't know who in particular contacted the publisher.  But I do know that a number of historians and other scholars have done yeoman's work in demonstrating the evidentiary flimsiness and downright fabrications underlying many of Barton's claims.

John Fea, who blogs at The Way of Improvement Leads Home and who will be commenting on a panel at the fifth annual S-USIH conference this fall, has spent the past several months documenting and debunking Barton's distortions and outright lies. See especially his six-part series of blog posts analyzing Barton's historical argumentation.  Type "David Barton" into the search window at the top of Fea's blog, and you will get a sense of how much time this highly-regarded professional historian has spent doing battle against (really bad) popular "history."  In these posts you will also see that Fea frequently links to the work of other historians and scholars from a range of academic disciplines who have taken the time and care to refute Barton's propaganda -- scholars such as Stephen Prothero, Warren Throckmorton, Michael Coulter, Clay Jenkinson, Alan Pell Crawford.

Similarly, at the Religion in American History blog, historians Randall Stephens, Kelly Baker, Paul Harvey, Chris Beneke, and other contributors and commenters have situated Barton's work where it belongs:  not as history, but as a particular (and particularly virulent) strain of right-wing Christian nationalist propaganda. 

Barton's propaganda has never been aimed at swaying the judgment of the historical profession; though he has apparently been able to dupe the Texas board of education into accepting his propaganda as history, he is not writing anything that has a chance of passing muster with professional historians.  People who practice critical thinking skills for a living are not his target audience.  So professors at places like Messiah College, Grove City College, North Park University -- Christian institutions all -- might have been excused for doing what most of us do when we run across some of the laughable nonsense that sometimes passes for reliable history with popular audiences:  as academics and professionals, they could have simply ignored Barton.  Instead, they took the time and trouble to refute him -- drawing the predictably martyrological response from Barton that their criticism should be dismissed as the work of "academic elitists" who are attacking his "personal religious beliefs." 

Presumably, the group of Cincinnati pastors who recently called for a boycott of Thomas Nelson publishing over Barton's book are not part of the anti-Christian academic elite.  Bob Allen at the Associated Baptist Press reports that these evangelical pastors "were concerned that the book glosses over Jefferson’s heretical views about Jesus Christ and excuses him for owning slaves."  In other words, they fault not only Barton's historical argumentation but the moral judgment from which it proceeds and which it supports.  For them, Barton's work is not just bad history, but bad history in the service of bad theology. 

Indeed, I assume that Barton's work is "bad theology" in the view of the many Christian academics and scholars who have taken the time and trouble to expose the propagandist's falsifications and distortions.  In fact, I would surmise that their own pastoral and confessional concerns as scholars and teachers in faith-based institutions, their sense of responsibility to teach not only well but truly, might have spurred them to take on this particular vapid but vicious wolf. 

As a historian, I am not the least bit interested in promulgating good theology or bad theology or any theology at all.  I just want to write and teach good history.  What is interesting -- and not a little problematic for me -- about this case is the way in which good theology appealed for support to good history, and good history emerged at least in part from a commitment to good theology.

Why do I find this problematic?  Well, that has to do with a book review I have not yet written, and my reasons for not yet writing it.  I will explain my problem in another post.  For now, though, I would like to congratulate and thank these scholars and their colleagues for fighting the good fight and keeping the faith. I'm just not quite sure which faith or faiths they're keeping, and how they fit or ought to fit together.  But this I know:  if we are to judge a tree by its fruits, this latest small victory for good history tastes pretty sweet indeed.

Faith In Taxes

I am happy to be a part of this blog and therefore need to apologize for the lack of posts over the last few months. With my family, I have been living abroad for the past 10 months in Copenhagen as part of a Fulbright. I taught and wrote at the Center for the Study of the Americas at the Copenhagen Business School and lived in the very delightful commune or district of Frederiksberg. And like many other Americans who get a taste of Scandinavian life, I was impressed by the quality of life most people in Denmark enjoy. The universal health care, public transportation, excellent pre-school care, and incredibly well-maintained bicycle lanes were simply made available to us for free. Of course, those services come with a price for the Danes in a tax rate that hovers between 50-60%. Well-nigh outrageous by American standards, or so friends and family exclaimed. And yet, I think I could learn to like taxes.

I had the rather strange experience of participating in a film made by a well-known Danish director for the national tax agency. It seemed that the agency was going through a period of re-organization and the morale of employees was a bit low as many had to shift positions and take on new tasks. The Danish government thought a film about the great good the tax agency does might boost spirits by showing the rather significant role taxes play in giving meaning to being Danish.

We might chuckle at this, ah-ha that was what Soren Kierkegaard had in mind! Man's search for meaning is found in his tax bill.

Well, in a way, the Danes do seem to embrace a somewhat existential approach to taxes: paying them is a leap of faith but this faith is not blind; like Americans, Danes complain about their taxes as well. But they do so in a way Kierkegaard might have appreciated. Their faith in the taxes does not translate into an absolute faith in the government--they don't leave the world up to their elected (and non-elected) officials. Danes constantly critique the results of the tax system but don't doubt that it needs to exist more or less at the present level of taxation. In this way, they profess a faith in taxes that provides the kind of civil religious unity that Americans get from their faith in abstraction notions of freedom and liberty. Maybe they are Hamiltonian in this way--creating a nation through the burden of taxation.

I went to Copenhagen to work on a book about civil religion and war in post-1945 America. I gave quite a few talks about the general role religion plays in American life and politics, especially in regard to framing and understanding the nation's role international affairs. What I came back with, though, was a new appreciation for faith in things that seem decidedly mundane. While my colleagues, students, and audiences rarely professed faith in an organized religion or an otherworldly God or even in great national myths (Danes joke that they are a country made by great military defeats), they often spoke profoundly about the stuff that binds generations of Danish folk together.

Danes have faith in taxes because their taxes support the welfare state--an entity that has a dual nature similar to the role served by the U.S. Constitution and the creed it embodies. While the Danish welfare system has not existed as long or with the kind of abstract power of the American Constitution, it has provided a surprisingly vibrant way for Danes to understand, debate and assess the dimensions of the common good. Quite unfortunately, the welfare state has also become something to guard, especially against what the Danish Right call the 'new immigrants.'

Nevertheless, as I get deeper into the field of public theology and civil religion, I am intrigued by what might be gained by comparing two types of existential faiths that on the suface appear to be very different. To that end, I recommend a group of Danish scholars who have begun a transatlantic project on beliefs and offer some preliminary notes and questions about this matter: Peter Andersen, Peter Gundelach, and Peter Luchau, "Religion in Europe and the United States: Assumptions, survey evidence, and some suggestions," Nordic Journal of Religion and Society (2008) 21 (1): 61-74.

As Americans enter into what will surely be a hot debate over universal health care, it might be of some benefit to consider how Danes (and others) have developed a faith in something as mundane as a tax system without losing their soul to the state it created.

Faith In Taxes

I am happy to be a part of this blog and therefore need to apologize for the lack of posts over the last few months. With my family, I have been living abroad for the past 10 months in Copenhagen as part of a Fulbright. I taught and wrote at the Center for the Study of the Americas at the Copenhagen Business School and lived in the very delightful commune or district of Frederiksberg. And like many other Americans who get a taste of Scandinavian life, I was impressed by the quality of life most people in Denmark enjoy. The universal health care, public transportation, excellent pre-school care, and incredibly well-maintained bicycle lanes were simply made available to us for free. Of course, those services come with a price for the Danes in a tax rate that hovers between 50-60%. Well-nigh outrageous by American standards, or so friends and family exclaimed. And yet, I think I could learn to like taxes.

I had the rather strange experience of participating in a film made by a well-known Danish director for the national tax agency. It seemed that the agency was going through a period of re-organization and the morale of employees was a bit low as many had to shift positions and take on new tasks. The Danish government thought a film about the great good the tax agency does might boost spirits by showing the rather significant role taxes play in giving meaning to being Danish.

We might chuckle at this, ah-ha that was what Soren Kierkegaard had in mind! Man's search for meaning is found in his tax bill.

Well, in a way, the Danes do seem to embrace a somewhat existential approach to taxes: paying them is a leap of faith but this faith is not blind; like Americans, Danes complain about their taxes as well. But they do so in a way Kierkegaard might have appreciated. Their faith in the taxes does not translate into an absolute faith in the government--they don't leave the world up to their elected (and non-elected) officials. Danes constantly critique the results of the tax system but don't doubt that it needs to exist more or less at the present level of taxation. In this way, they profess a faith in taxes that provides the kind of civil religious unity that Americans get from their faith in abstraction notions of freedom and liberty. Maybe they are Hamiltonian in this way--creating a nation through the burden of taxation.

I went to Copenhagen to work on a book about civil religion and war in post-1945 America. I gave quite a few talks about the general role religion plays in American life and politics, especially in regard to framing and understanding the nation's role international affairs. What I came back with, though, was a new appreciation for faith in things that seem decidedly mundane. While my colleagues, students, and audiences rarely professed faith in an organized religion or an otherworldly God or even in great national myths (Danes joke that they are a country made by great military defeats), they often spoke profoundly about the stuff that binds generations of Danish folk together.

Danes have faith in taxes because their taxes support the welfare state--an entity that has a dual nature similar to the role served by the U.S. Constitution and the creed it embodies. While the Danish welfare system has not existed as long or with the kind of abstract power of the American Constitution, it has provided a surprisingly vibrant way for Danes to understand, debate and assess the dimensions of the common good. Quite unfortunately, the welfare state has also become something to guard, especially against what the Danish Right call the 'new immigrants.'

Nevertheless, as I get deeper into the field of public theology and civil religion, I am intrigued by what might be gained by comparing two types of existential faiths that on the suface appear to be very different. To that end, I recommend a group of Danish scholars who have begun a transatlantic project on beliefs and offer some preliminary notes and questions about this matter: Peter Andersen, Peter Gundelach, and Peter Luchau, "Religion in Europe and the United States: Assumptions, survey evidence, and some suggestions," Nordic Journal of Religion and Society (2008) 21 (1): 61-74.

As Americans enter into what will surely be a hot debate over universal health care, it might be of some benefit to consider how Danes (and others) have developed a faith in something as mundane as a tax system without losing their soul to the state it created.