In a Den of Gypsies

Friday night, I popped over to the Gypsy Den in Santa Ana and ran into The Rambler. It was, as always, good to see the li'l fella.

While he toyed with his camera in the lushly dim atmosphere, I sketched Den patrons on napkins. One of the benefits of public places is that you have much greater freedom to sketch/snap/film real life people in candid situations. And we both took some small advantage of that factor.

Still though, I'm uncomfortable if a subject realizes they're the subject of my eye, so I'll purposely stare at someone who's not my subject while sneaking glances at the true object of my momentary attention. Unfortunately, the only evidence of the night that remains are these few photos that The Rambler was so gracious as to forward to me yesterday afternoon.

I ended up being divested of the sketches by and to the subject of each sketch. Regardless, it's good to be sketching again. Really, it's been years since I did any serious human studies and I feel a bit out of touch with the human form. Also, drawing still irritates my thumb and so I'm trying to work around that as best I can.

Pumpkin Carving 2006

I hate to knock down the Christ-figures post a notch (especially as its finally getting some comments), but hard work must not go unrewarded and since I just spent three hours carving, sliced open my left thumb, and inflamed the other (my right thumb is the one that houses the tendon that I so lovingly tore nearly two months ago playing frisbee - and it's now about 15% larger than my left thumb). And so, in all it's pumpkin glory, this Halloween's* carvation!

[UPDATE: I noticed my pumpkin art section was a touch out of date, so I fixed it up and you can check them out here]

*note: I still have another pumpkin for carving this year, but in light of how badly it hurts the thumb on my drawing hand, I'll probably hold off for Thanksgiving. Pax out, y'all.

Christ Figures in Literature

(a.k.a. the post that will never be read)

Recent conversation over at DYL on the possibility of Harry der Potter as Christ-figure got me to thinking what we mean when we say this. Honestly, I think the term is used (in the circles that care to use it) pretty loosely and with a bit more abandon than I'd prefer. Part of the problem is that anytime a protagonist bears the remotest similarity in deed or circumstance he is labelled Christ-figure. And this - this just isn't a useful way to go about things.

Really, there are a few ways and nuances in which we can intend the term, so let's explore those before moving on.

Authorship with Intent
The first question we've got to answer is the question of author intention. I think that conversation about "Christ-figures" almost immediately breaks down at this point. I think I've argued with Johnny T to some degree about this in the past (though not in connection with redemptive pictures), with me taking the position that for the reader to say that something in a story represents a particular object or idea, the author must have intended such an interpretation for it to be valid. Now I could be horribly misrepresenting Johnny T here (though I don't believe so), but his position was that authorial intent, while important, is not necessary in the interpretation of literature.

I believe meaning is transmitted only through intentionality, though in both conscious and subconscious intentionality. That is, I believe that when we speak of the meaning of thematic elements in literature, we should only be speaking to the question of authorial intent. Our order of discovery is to uncover what the author is both consciously and unconsciously implying. This is what I mean when I say that meaning is transmitted; it comes from the author and arrives at us to some degree (depending of the forecast for communication that day).

Some people like the flavour of the Elevation of Inference. They like the idea that anything one can draw out of a text is a valid interpretation, the idea that meaning stem's from reader response. I believe Johnny T likes this view, or did at one point, as I seem to remember him arguing in favour of post-structuralism.

This seems to travel against the grain of simple semiotics. Stepping away from literature for a moment, let's look at how signs function. When I create a sign, say a red plus sign on a white field, I am signifying something. And I am signifying something to a "reader." Now what that reader interprets my sign to be signifying is anyone's guess. But if he infers anything other than what I've signified, he is, despite good intentions to the contrary, mistaken. Perhaps he comes from a culture that sees the red "cross" as a religious symbol, so he reads religious import into my sign, believing its signifier to have some sort of affiliation to that, when really, all I mean is Medical Aid. Despite the validity of his cultural values, he has allowed his biases to lead him astray in the interpretation of my sign. Now while we understand where he's coming from and don't really fault him on his interpretation, I would be quick to point out that he was, alas, wrong.

Another illustration is the Christian sacrament of bread and wine. Scripture gives the sign and explains what it signifies: the body and blood of Christ. It is, of course, possible for me to add my own meaning to the sign - perhaps the bread reminds me of sustenance and the wine reminds me of joyfulness - but we cannot say that the Lord's Supper is a sign of the joy and sustenance that God offers. We cannot because Scripture does not say that and we aren't allowed to give signs our own meaning. We either interpret it rightly (as it was intended to be interpreted) or we interpret it wrongly (any way other than intended).

Now translated this across the massive complexity of signs that authors signify through the written word. The essential function remains the same. The author means to say something, either consciously or unconsciously, and communicates this through the literary signage we call the text.

The signs are definitely more complex, more ambiguous, and may even be contradictory. Just like people. But their meaning can never be anything other than what they signify. And note that I do think that an author's inability to communicate well in the language of the people will usually end in confusion of his signs' meanings. Using the example of the red plus sign, if I went to that land where the red plus had deep religious symbolism, I should not be surprised that no one would interpret it as meaning Medical Aid.

So then, when speaking of Christ-figures in literature, I believe we should only be speaking about those figures who were crafted intentionally as a Christ-character. It's fine and all to ask, Which characters remind you of Christ? but that's quite a different question than dealing with Christ-figures.

The Quest for Consciousness
Next, I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that we really only want to talk about those figures who are intended to represent Christ by conscious action of the author. I'm not disregarding the possibility that someone might not write unintentionally a character who resembles Christ, but really, how valuable is it that we recognize those characters - since by pointing them out as Christ-figures, we would merely be pointing out what we already know from Scripture: that every story reflects in some way The Story, that all that exists declares in some fashion the glory of the Lord.

My point is that if in some unconscious way everything says something like, "Apples are not snakes," then it hardly seems worthwhile to point out that something said, "Apples are not snakes," but did so unintentionally. People who point out the everyday are one of two things: boring or comedians. Or maybe both.

So then, really what we're talking about when we speak of Christ-figures, we're talking about authors actively intending their protagonist to fit a certain role, to be identified with Christ. We see this for certain in the case of Aslan. C.S. Lewis set out to tell a story about Christ, so he makes one of the characters into Christ. He does so unapologetically and he does so clearly.

Through a Glass Darkly
The next question, then, is how clear must our vision be? How closely must a character resemble Christ in person or work to merit the term? If the character sacrifices himself, is that enough? Does he need to then raise from the dead? How many must his sacrifice save? Does it matter from what they're saved? Does he need to be a good person? How good? Must he be supernatural? Should he be better than anyone else?

I've referenced the cloudy window of 1 Corinthians here and accordingly, I think we're entering into a dark and murky territory here. And by dark and murky, I mean a realm guarded by that most ferocious and indefatigable of beasts, subjectivity. While I might feel that a Christ-figure must meet more strictly with the reflective criteria, others might (and do) feel that less stringent guidelines are perfectly acceptable. Others still, are willing to bend the rules a bit in order to shoehorn in an otherwise unlikely prospect - just so they can add one more to the ranks of literary Christ-figures.

My personal general rule is to look for characters who are more thematic of Christ than they are less thematic of him. If a character dies to save a nation, fights with religious leaders, and is popular with the masses, but is a foul-mouthed drunkard and pedophile, then he certainly doesn't fit very well the image of Christ.

Now That's an Awkward Fit
I suppose if we determine, through whatever Byzantine means and arcane sources, that an author has indeed created a Christ-figure intentionally - the real question (one of them) is how well they succeeded in their chosen task. Now C.S. Lewis did pretty darned well. We look at Aslan and nod in affirmative, saying, "Yup. He's a Christ-figure alright. Good job, Mister Lewis. Next!" Others don't fare quite as well on this count. How about Simon from Lord of the Flies? Well, he was certainly killed by his culture. And he does run into the devil somewhat while wandering in the wilderness. But then again, as good as he is, he doesn't save anyone by his death or otherwise. And his death was really more accidental by product of madness then the malicious murder of Piggy. So then, "Mister Golding? Were you serious? You can do better than that." I just read something that posited Gandalf, Frodo, and Aragorn each as aspects of a Christ-figure (prophet, priest, and king respectively). Now let's say Tolkien was attempting this (despite the fact that I'd like to give him more credit than this). I, er, well, honestly I have no response to that. It just seems too desperate to me.

To the figure at hand over at DYL, let's pretend that Rowling really was attempting to craft Harry in the imago Christi. How well did she do? Well, as pointed out by Rich:

• Rowling, the author, references her Christian beliefs as somehow contributing to the series' climax.
• Harry had humble beginnings, like Christ.
• Harry was marked by Voldemort in a potentially bruise heel/crush head sort of way.
• Harry is part wizard/part muggle (75%/25% or something, it's hard to determine wizard to muggle blood ratios as they do not behave as simple ethnic genotype does) and Christ was part man/part God (100%/100%).
• Voldemort hunts Harry as the result of a prophecy as Satan hunts Christ due to prior knowledge.
• After his second encounter with Voldemort, Harry is comatised for three days, the same number of days for which Christ was dead and buried.

Also, it is presumed that Harry will die (to some degree) to save his friends in the last/next book.

So... what about the case against?

• Unlike Christ, Harry is a jerk. He is a petulant little temper-tantrum-throwing boy who is currently motivated by typically teenage selfishness. His actions frequently lead to rifts between himself and his friends and occasionally to horrible things like death. Despite having something of a messiah complex, Harry does not have the character to be any kind of Christ-resembling messiah.
• Unlike Christ's dual nature, both of Harry's nature's are marked by corruption.
• Unlike Christ, Harry's greatest powers comes, it seems from his mother and his enemy, rather than from his nature.
• Unlike Christ, when Harry dies to save the wizarding world, he does not really save anyone but merely vanquishes one foe. Voldermort is not the worst enemy of the wizarding world; the wizarding world is.*
• Unlike Christ, it is unlikely that Harry's death will be any sort of justice.
• Unlike Christ, Harry is a foreigner to love (as yet).

Personally, I think the evidence weighs against the Christ-figure theory, but if Rowling does intend us to read Harry in this way, she's not doing a very bang-up job. This is not to say that there aren't themes that reflect The Story in the Harry Potter story, but that if there are, they are more general, incidental things.

You've Got a Look that Makes Me Think You're Cool
And then again, really, what's the point? Why should we care about Christ figures in literature. It doesn't make the stories better or worse. It doesn't redeem an illicit read, somehow forging it into a now-licit read. It doesn't rectify inadequacies in stories. It doesn't sanctify, in any way, a story.

In the end, Christ-figures in stories are trivialities.

We shouldn't rejoice when we see them anymore than we do for any other type of character. We might even groan a little at the cliché - for, since the absolute Christ-figure (Christ) has come, all other such characters are cheap rip-offs. We shouldn't imagine that good is being accomplished any better through this character than through the existence of any other well-written character. Seeds for understanding the true Christ aren't being sown any better through Aslan than they are through Reepicheep or through Jadis.

So take joy in finding Christ-figures if you like, but only do so for the same reason that you take joy in discovering that e.e. cummings doesn't capitalize. When you find one of these messianic archetypes, just shrug and say, "Huh. Neat. Oh and look, this book also uses the scapegoat archetype."

*note: this reason will be eliminated if Harry's sacrifice really does destroy all magic in his death.

Spoiler!!

The Last Paragraph to Harry Potter Book 7 Revealed
(special thanks to Jon Barlow for the heads up)

It was now years after that long night at the Department of Mysteries through which they had discovered their mutual love of anime and shonen manga. Since that time, the two had become the most successful OEL manga team in the western world. Shunned by their wizarding peers, who considered their otaku hygene to be a most terrible dark mark, Harry and Thomas earned a newspaper reputation as They Who Must Not Be Named. Fortunately, all was not lost and the new wizrding team enjoyed a certain celebrity amongst the young ladies at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Hermione and Ginny's favourite series was the seventeen volume highschool fantasy, Pony Berry Yi-Yi Girl, in which Harry and V'mort (Thomas's adopted nom de plume as mangaka) explored the social dynamics and quest for love of a shy and unassuming young girl who goes to a private school while managing an all-boys dormitory. Harry, at long last, had found a family in the man who was responsible for his parents death. He had finally found the peace and love and acceptance he was looking for. And despite their ambition and popularity, Harry and Thomas never failed to take time to relax, watching episodes of Full Metal Alchemist, always remarking how they could never write so cool a character as Scar.

How Do You Think?

Think about how you think. Now tell me about it. Do you think primarily in words? In pictures? Sounds, smell, textures, tones? Do your thoughts have colour and do they favour certain parts of the spectrum? What about flow? Do you thoughts proceed logically, analytically, one from another? Or are your thought processes more frenetic.

Personally, I believe I slightly favour thinking in words over visuals, but only slightly. Pretty evenly divided on that score. Though I'm almost constantly singing or making "music" with my voice or percussively, that aspect seems to exist almost subconsciously, for I rarely think in sound. As far as processes are concerned, I think that for the most part, my thoughts follow an even flow (interrupted and redirected constantly by outside stimulus). The only times really when I forego logical progression is when I'm actively aiming for wackiness or creativity; in short, I have to try to be imaginative in order to imagine.

So please, tell me how you think. And if you think of it, please direct your friends here to do the same. I'm trying to get the broadest range of understanding on thought processes as I am able. Feel free to include examples if that helps.

Pick up that Invisible Cross

Kalinara brings up an interesting subject on her blog, Pretty, Fizzy Pair of Dice: Christians and their portrayal in the media - and specifically in comics. It seems she's responding to some articles she read at some point in which the authors were complaining about the lack of positive representation of their religion in comics. The main drive of her response is to point out that Christians in America aren't persecuted and should stop acting like they are. An old subject and one I've dealt with before, but maybe I can spin some fresh light onto the matter (mixaphorically speaking).

Help! I'm Persecuted and I Can't Get Up!
I think it's probably due to Christ's words to the effect that if a believer is truly acting like a believer, he will be persecuted, but the evangelical church in America has translated this to nearly fetishistic degree. Christians subconsciously want so badly to measure up, to be worthy of persecution that they become willing to see the slightest resistance, the smallest mockery or derision, as persecution.

Prayer out of schools? Ohnoes! Persecution! The excise of "under God"? Ohnoes! Persecution! The existence of the ACLU? Ohnoes! Persecution! Resistance to including ID in public school curricula? Ohnoes! Persecution!

The irony, of course, is that as much as they want persecution subconsciously, they'll voice their ire against it at the drop of a hat. They'll organize protests for unfair treatment. They'll vote to eliminate that persecution. It really is something of a mind-trip. The other irony is that all of these so-called persecutions come as reaction against the church involving itself in culture in a manner in which it was never intended to involve itself. (But that is another topic - and one you're probably tired of hearing me rail upon.)

The reality is that the church is persecuted today. Just not so much here in America. The church in Sudan? Yes. The church in China? Yes. The church in Afghanistan? Yes. The church in India? Yes. Even in Romania, my family experience some degree of genuine persecution. But here in America? Beyond occasional individuals with a mad-on against Christianity, there isn't much that will fall under the heading of persecution.

I mean what? Because I am a Christian, I may get portrayed as ignorant, intolerant, sexist, self-righteous, and any number of other distasteful adjectives. But that's not persecution. Sticks-and-stones, brutha.

Do You Do Caricatures?
This is not to say that I enjoy the way the church is portrayed in the arts. The stereotype is ingrained enough that when a Christian scene is portrayed, I actually anticipate a negative portrayal. When Daredevil attends a church in the "Redemption" storyline, we get a scene right out of Inherit the Wind. When Jessica Jones visits the local pastor in "Come Home," she gets an earful of wrathful diatribe that sounds like tiresome GodHatesFags lingo with mutants subbing in for homosexuals.

And then the other kind of Christian in the literary arts is the nominal one - and almost a reaction against the other kind. He's the average Joe who believes in God, but doesn't really evidence the life of a follower of Christ (save for a genuine morality or an occasional prayer on screen). His role is generally to act as a pacifier, offering, occasionally, sound and wise advice that sound remote and religious. I kind of think of the preacher from Kingdom Come who, when Dead-Man presumes he's preaching to the choir by speaking of the existence of God, corrects the garish figure, saying: "No. Frankly, I can't imagine any of this. Since seminary, I have been more philosopher than priest. In my church, I preached that God is not a person... but rather, a force with many names... one that motivates us to master our own fate."

Neither of these are Christians like I am a Christian. I don't see myself in them. I see Jerry Falwell and Martin Luther King Jr. in them. But not me. And not any real Christian I know. These characters are not representative of me, of my beliefs. So when I see them, I feel sorry for their authors - simply because the craft they are producing isn't as good as it could be. It's like they're writing black women who bob their heads and say, "Nuh uh, girlfriend!" Yes, there are black women who do that, and yes, there are so-called Christians who spit hateful rhetoric all day long. *shrug* But it'd be nice to see writing that surpasses those weaknesses.

What Me Worry?
A recent theme (spanning decades) in our victocratic culture is the demand for representation. Asian-Americans complain that there are not enough Asian actors getting premium roles in American cinema. Homosexual watchdog groups want better gay characters on television. Girls wonder why there aren't more Strong Female Characters^tm in comics. And Christian worry about the lack of honest Christian representation in books and movies and newspapers and, well, everywhere.

The thing is: why? Why does should we care? Why does it matter that there is no one in a book with life experiences perfectly analogous to ours?

Look. I am a pale-faced, woman-oriented, male who believes Christ died to save the world from their sins. And you know what percent of characters represent me, my beliefs, the circumstances of my life? If you guessed 0%, then you're right.

I have yet to find a character whom I really identify with - at least on the basis of superficial things like sex, orientation, or ethnicity. Sure I can relate with Fone Bone's loyalty to those he holds near to his heart and Nausicaä's desire to preserve life, because those are transcendent themes. But Fone Bone's a vaguely masculine (no apparent genitalia), inhuman creature. And Nausicaä's a princess and wears funny hats. Most of my favourite characters are characters who do not resemble me at all.

Except for maybe in ways that count.

So really, should I be upset that none of my favourite comic book characters really resemble me in superficial ways? No. Really, I shouldn't. And neither should you.

I guess a valid question might be: Well, sure, things like sex, orientation, and ethnicity are all pretty superficial when it comes to storytelling, but what about religion? That's not so superficial, is it? After all, it's one of the most important things about me!

Fair enough, I say; still, by and large, in the majority of stories (save for those that deal expressly spiritual themes) religion is a superficiality no different in importance to ethnicity or sex. So really, I can't think of a single reason why I should need to see a character who represents me in sex, orientation, ethnicity, and religion? It's just not important. I have yet to see a character who really represents me. And you know what? That's fine because people should identify with characters via their thoughts and actions rather via the window-dressing.

Goodbye You Funny Farm

Okay. I've come to the end of the road on the Funny Farm game (my progress on which I've been chronicling below). It was fun and frustrating and in the end, as many as I found, I still didn't break the 50% correct mark. I got discovered 191 answers out of a grand total of 417. That's 46%. Not to great, huh?

But from another perspective, I did pretty fair. By the time I got to the point at which I quit, I was only able to hazard guesses on 264 of the boxes (191 of which I correctly guessed). From that perspective, I correctly guessed 72% of the available puzzle. Not stellar, but not shabby either.

Now that I've seen the answers, I'm pretty satisfied that I wouldn't have been able to go much further. There are some that I totally should have gotten. Which would have lead to other "sure things." But in the end, I don't see my final score possibly raising more than 40 or so points (and even that, through a lot of hard thinking). So I think I can describe my level of play here as: Better than most, not as good as some. Really, I did a lot better at the M&M game.

And for those who are interested, I present three images of the game: 1) My final game board displayed without any answers, so you can see how to beat me without giving it away for yourself; 2) My final game board including my answers, so those of you who want to show me up can stand on my shoulders and get a few more to push yourself over my edge; and 3) for those of you who are completely fed up with it but want to see exactly the kind of madness we're dealing with, the entire game board revealed.

Dirty Pretty Things

In writing of D.H. Lawrence and theories of sexual redemption, Leithart delivers an interesting topic and well said. While Emeth (from whom I received notice of the article) focused on C.S. Lewis's point that you cannot approach with neutrality the more intimate processes and pieces of the body (concluding that in every description of said functions, one must either be childish, quaint, crass, or academically detatched), I will focus on something else in the article. Though I'm not quite certain that Lewis is correct (in fact, I think he's rather mistaken, but that's neither here nor there).

No, I think I will take the opportunity to quibble with the article's conclusion:

The result of Lawrence's evangelism [in the favour of the eff-word] has, of course, been less than redemptive. Instead of consecrating "f—–" and surrounding it with the whole aura of connotations associated with passionate, tender sexual love, it has demeaned all discourse about sex. It still brings with it the "whole atmosphere of the slum"; it can enter "polite society," but the result will be to transform the latter into a slum. [note the the eff-word was edited from Leithart's original in order not to offend the more sensitive of our readers.]

And here then is my point of disagreement, that bringing formerly obscene words into "polite society" can be done, but that the result will be to transform the polite society into a slum. I don’t think that the entrance of such words into "polite" society necessarily demeans that society. Instead, I think it renders such culture as "less polite."

I think there is a gulf of difference between polite society and the society of the slum; and within the expanse of that gulf are any number of bedposts upon which one might hang his hat. The introduction to polite society of a word that seeks to realize and recognize "the bodiliness, the messiness, of actual intercourse" wouldn’t be enough to damn the society, but it wouldn't help the society to remain "polite" either.

The thing is, what’s so great about polite? Time and place for it, sure. But really, all we mean when we speak of polite society is a society that clothes itself in lies, half-truths, and fabrications. It paints itself into an unrealistic corner, a facade that ends up fooling, well, most of its participants.

As believers, we value both truth and modesty. We take on our lives in a manner that exalts in truth and glories in honesty. But still, we do not rejoice in parading our inadequacies, in boasting in the effects of the fall. We are caught in between these mandates.

On the one hand, we should desire greater truth in advertising, less abstraction in our descriptions of the body and life. We should hope to be a frank people. Yet on the other, we sojourn in an old and diseased creation, one in which both body and life are the subject of taboo. It is for the sake of a crass and vulgar kingdom that we demure, that we speak so softly and with so little colour; for they would never understand. In their skewed reason, they would see us flaunt their taboos and believe us to be the unrighteous. It is for them and for our witness to them of the reality that subsumes us that we hedge a little and say, "I make love to my wife."

[NOTE: this posts masthead features Ken and Barbie doing what kids everywhere make them do.]

The Future?

So I'm a few chapters into Murakami's Kafka on the Shore and the quality of the writing suddenly strikes me with an astounding, glorious thought. Given enough time, there will be enough incredibly good books out there that teachers will begin having to make choices on what should be taught in school. As good books are written and included in highscool curriculums, other books simply must be edged out - because really, there's only so much time in the school year.

With this in mind, I grow hopeful that there will be good books enough that by the time I am a grandparent, my grandchildren will not have to suffer through literary dross such as either Huckleberry Finn or Mind-Numbing Works of Astounding Mediocrity (a.k.a. anything written by Dickens). I can only imagine that these lackluster fictions were thrust upon me because there just weren't enough books and so teachers had to deal with what was available to them. After all, beggars cannot rightly be choosers, can they?

Soon, my friends, we shall enter a golden age of literature in which no child will know of the travels of Huck and Jim and tales of the Mighty Mississippi and the transgendered Sarah Williams will be naught but distant and forgotten legend. Rejoice with me at our future hope, our future glory!

FARMgames

So, great. Paul introduced me to a new and addictive puzzler. It's a blind, word association game. And it's rad. The successes, when they come are exhilarating - especially when they lead to two or three more immediate successes, but the slow points can destroy me. So if you want to see my progress, click on this post's masthead (don't worry, you won't be able to see my answers if you're trying to win yourself). Oh, and please, nobody give away answers in the comments section (and this means You Alex!).

UPDATE: I'll post links to my progress via the images below. And don't worry, I don't spoil the answers.

UPDATE#2: Things are definitely going more slowly and gradual now. Last night's effort consisted entirely of work in two squares on the bottom row (with no new squares revealed) save for my completion of the two remaining ones that sprung off Cow in the original square. I may be reaching my limit. Still, except for using Google on the Poker Stars part and getting one of the clues in the baseball section, I've been pretty good about sticking to my own devices.

Honour the Emperor

After an interesting run of comments on a particular post over at Memoirs of a Samurai Barber, it seems the comment system broke. And try as I might, I could not fix it. So, in a fit of sentimentality, I'm going to post a blog all old-school, like we did back in the day. For those of you who weren't traversing across the consolidated bloginalia in the year 2000, it was common for one blogger to write a post and for other bloggers to respond to that post on their own sites rather than in the original poster's comments. Since, well, blogs didn't have comments back then. And in light of technical difficulties, I'm going to do just that.

In his original question, Johnny T asks for clarification on the Christian ethic in times when one's government is, well, evil. He uses the example of Nazi Germany, but inevitably draws us back to the inadequacies of the current administration in America. He asks about actions such as assassination, sabotage, espionage, defection, and the hiding of Jews. I think his questions have merit and will briefly outline my outlook on matters before answering his final question (which was posted after the system broke and hence, is only visible to me).

So then, essentially, the believer's interaction with the government that rules over him is this:

Though we are to regularly submit to even the most oppressive government, I do believe we are to break laws that prohibit us from doing good so long as we are willing to accept the consequences. Conversely, I believe we cannot actively seek the dissolution, through illegal means, or harm of said government.

I do not think we are to actively prevent the government from doing evil by ourselves doing evil (a la assassination of evil leaders), for that would clearly go against our command to "honour the emperor." Pretty much everything on John's laundry list seems inappropriate to the believer with the exception of hiding Jews; only offering succour to the enemies of a government seems to break the law because it prevents one from doing good.

While Johnny expresses his frustration with the difficulty in balancing something like the Golden Rule with our mandate to accept the authority of the government that God has seen fit to place over us - for whatever reasons are his - I don't see as much difficulty in the question. To this, Johnny responds:

The conflict will be clearer if we consider other areans of life besides war.

Immigration: in some states harboring an immigrant has become a felony, yet there are many churches in those states that break the law in order to take care of the immigrants. The same can be said in our state, though it isn't a felony here. You have a white family so this doens't come up much for you, but with my Wife's Philipino family, there is a lot of family here illegally. Yet I feel like taking care of family and not betraying family is more important that obeying the law.

Contributing to Pro-Palistinian charities. Now, contributing to many of these charities can be considered contributing to Terrorism, even though the Palistinians are the ones being constantly terrorised. This can be serious stuff. The last thing you want to do these days is get the Feds looking at you as an illegal enemy combatant -- you'll land yourself in the most terrorising interigation system in the world. Yet the Palistinians are in grave need.

I could think of more examples, but I hope you are getting my point. Submission to the governing authorities and helping our fellow humans are often in conflict.

To go back to the war examples, why would sabatoge be wrong for the defector to do but not wrong for soldier to do? Both acts destroy and kill in an attempt to give victory to one side of the war. Why doesn't the soldier have to love his enemy? It would seem that if we took that commandment as an absolute, all soldiers would be in sin. I don't think many conservative Christians are going to be absolute on this one.

If I was a German in Nazi Germany and I loathed what the Nazis were doing, I don't think my concsience would greive me too much for blowing up a gas tank at the ammo depot, or sniping commanding officers off duty.

Do you think that is wrong? Becuase now that I say it, I guess I'm not totally sure I could do that in good concisence. But for sure, it would be a tough decision for me either way.

I can't speak to the laws of the states and of felonies and misdemeanors, but what I can say is that if you run across a man in need and you are able to help him and yet you do not, you are not a good person. If the punishment for feeding and clothing your fellow man is that you be locked up for two or three years, then you will be locked up for two or three years. You did not sin in violating a law that would prevent you from loving your neighbour or enemy as yourself.

While I think the view you present of the Palestinian plight here is vastly simplified and perhaps a little naive, I believe you are free to give charity as you see fit. This example doesn't exactly fit - as I don't believe that Palestinian charities are yet illegal, but regardless, if you are giving to Palestine, I would suggest doing it through the church or through some organization with which you have firsthand experience. Charities, after-all, may be far from what we would expect them to be.

As for the comment that submission to authorities and helping our fellow man are often in conflict, I guess I can only shrug and say, "So?" I don't see this as a problem, as I've outline above how I, personally, reconcile the difficulties.

When Johnny referenced my stance on war, he's referring to the fact that I believe that governments have the right to wage war - though individuals do not. I also believe that, as there is no suggestion to the soldiers in the tyrannical Roman army that they should cease their service post-conversion, that contemporary believers may join themselves to the military if they choose (though I would not recommend it). As agents of the governing authority, the operate with the authority of their government. Therefore, Christians may go ethically into battle and kill the enemy of their government should their government command it (again, I would not recommend military service as the killing of men must weigh heavily on the soul of the believer). Further, I state that as an operative of a government, one make engage in espionage and sabotage - and yet, that an individual who is not deputized by the government under which he sits, bears no such privilege.

At this point, Johnny asks Why doesn't a soldier have to love his enemy? My answer: he does. I don't see a conflict here (after all, we always hurt the ones we love *kidding*). Really, though I think the balancing act would probably weigh heavily on one's soul across the years, I do think its possible to love your enemy even while you kill him. I also believe that a Christian has the privilege of rejecting that deputization - so long as they are happy to engage the consequences.

Now you should be able to ascertain why I believe that it would be wrong for a German citizen and believer to snipe commanding officers while they are off-duty, yet acceptable for a British soldier to do so. Essentially it comes down to the authority with which they are vested.