Sarah Palin and Whittaker Chambers: politics by pedigree

If the always-astute Thomas Sowell is right—and I believe he is—then that’s really what the irrational negative reaction to Sarah Palin in some quarters last fall came down to.  It explains the fact that many liberals thought her wonderful (even though they would never vote for her because they agree with her on almost nothing), while a number of prominent conservatives came down with the reaction even though they agree with her on almost everything.  It also, I think (though Dr. Sowell doesn’t go this direction), explains why many of those same conservatives came out for Barack Obama over against John McCain:  because if Gov. Palin is “not one of us,” as Eleanor Roosevelt said of “slouching, overweight and disheveled” Whittaker Chambers, while the “trim, erect and impeccably dressed” Ivy League New Dealer Alger Hiss was, it’s also true that Sen. McCain isn’t “one of them” either, while Barack Obama most certainly is, on almost all the same scores.  (Sen. McCain actually fares worse in that respect than Gov. Palin does; neither of them is overweight, but posture and fashion are only problems for him.)  Never mind that Alger Hiss was a Soviet spy, or that Barack Obama had no discernible record of accomplishment in actual governance:  to the intelligentsia, each man qualified as “one of us,” and at a visceral level, that’s the qualification that they really believe matters.We are not as far removed from the class system of our British forebears as we like to think; we’ve just changed the terms, is all.HT:  Conservatives4Palin

A few thoughts for Ash Wednesday

How easy it is to denounce structural injustice, institutionalized violence, social sin.
And it is true, this sin is everywhere, but where are the roots of this social sin?
In the heart of every human being.—Archbishop Oscar RomeroOn this Ash Wednesday, the first day of this Lenten season, I wanted to post these reflections from the Rev. Dr. Tom Sheffield, the Presbytery Pastor of the Presbytery of Denver (PCUSA), on this quote from Archbishop Romero.  I admire Tom greatly and was greatly blessed to serve in his presbytery for five years, and I think there’s a great deal of wisdom in what he has to say about this day.

On most days I can find ways to avoid what Archbishop Romero wrote. Most days I can think I am pretty good. I can believe that all things considered I am doing pretty well. And I can convince myself that if I am not, it isn’t really my fault. On most days I can say all that.But not on Ash Wednesday.On Ash Wednesday I am forced . . . and the word is “forced” . . . to look as squarely as I can at that sin. I am led forward to receive those ashes, a sign that what passes for life is passing very quickly away, a sign that God can take the remnants of my life, the tattered pieces of my days, the shredded hopes and dreams and bring about something good and whole and eternal, and a sign that without my ever doing much of anything I am marked with God’s grace and love.On Ash Wednesday may we all find again what is in our hearts and discover again, too, what is in the heart of God. May we find there the forgiveness that we need, acceptance for which yearn and hope for which we long. And in finding that forgiveness, acceptance and hope may we also find the strength daily to transform, with the love of Christ, the injustice, violence and sin that dwell in all our lives.

Statement of faith

I’ve been mulling this post for a while, and I might as well go ahead and put it up.  I am, by temperament and reaction to experience, a pessimist; I’m the sort who thinks the problem with Murphy is that he tried too hard to look on the bright side of things.  When things are going well, I have a hard time relaxing and enjoying it, because I figure that every silver lining has its cloud and that the greatest danger in life is complacency.  I mistrust when things come too easily, or line up too neatly—the universe is simply too cross-grained to come up cooperative without a fight, or a trick.  The advantage of pessimism is that it greatly reduces (though nothing can eliminate) the number of unpleasant surprises; and as a recovering control freak, I don’t like unpleasant surprises.  I much prefer to have contingency plans in place, when I’m smart enough to come up with them.

This is, of course, not all there is to be said about me; I also have a weird optimistic streak, and sometimes I’m not sure how these two things coexist.  But it does mean that trust and faith come very, very hard for me; there are very few people in this world whom I could honestly say I trust more than provisionally, and I can’t honestly claim to trust God all that much either, a lot of the time.  I know people for whom faith in God comes easily, where I have to fight for it, and at times I’ve felt myself to be inferior to them; now, I just figure that it’s a matter of different spiritual gifts, and that their greater gift of faith serves one purpose where my weaker gift serves another.  After all, Jesus didn’t say you need a lot of faith:  even if you have barely any at all, that’s enough.  What matters isn’t the size of our faith, but the size of the God in whom we put our faith.

But if faith comes so hard, why believe at all?

Partly it’s because, as I’ve argued before, we’re wired to believe; we can’t stand nowhere, and we can’t hold ourselves in abeyance (not for very long, anyway)—we inevitably settle somewhere.  The only question is whether we realize it or not.  Better, as a matter of tactics, tochoose to believe—better to pick your ground deliberately than just to end up where you end up.  Better to actively interrogate the universe, to search for truth and ask the hard questions, to come to the best conclusions you can; one must do so with proper humility, in the awareness that one could always be wrong (especially in the details, even if one’s fundamental conclusions are correct), but “humble” does not in any way mean “timid.”  Pick your ground and argue hard—drive both yourself and anyone who disagrees with you to the limits—because if you’re wrong, you need to be proven wrong, insofar as that’s possible, and the only way that can happen is if there are no holds barred and no punches pulled.

I know there are those who say that no one was ever argued into faith; that’s not true.  It doesn’t, by any means, happen this way for everybody; even among Vulcans, not everyone lives by logic.  But there are those who are argued into faith, and there are those of us whose faith requires argument; and if that doesn’t make for easy faith, it has its own virtue about it.  At the very least, it makes it easier to talk with others who don’t find faith coming easily.

For my part, I didn’t have to be argued into faith:  I grew up in a Christian home, the grandson and nephew of pastors.  That said, while the assumptions of my childhood were unquestionably Christian, they were not required to remain unquestioned; when I had questions, they were always taken seriously and answered fairly.  If the unexamined life is not worth living, it’s certainly true that the unexamined (and unchallenged) faith is not worth holding; it’s the equivalent of a security program that’s never been tested by hackers.  My family, whether explicitly or simply by temperament and interest, understood this.  It’s one of the reasons I came out in such a different place in my faith from my grandmother the pastor (which, given the strong-willed, strong-minded and self-certain person that she was, made for some arguments that made the walls ring, let me tell you.

All this was a good thing, because it meant that I was free to interrogate my own faith when the time came that I needed to do so; and I did.  It was not enough that my family believed; not enough that I wanted to believe—indeed, I mistrusted (and mistrust) that desire, because such desire can easily trap you into betraying yourself.  As Bacon said, people prefer to believe what they prefer to be true—and if your preference leads you away from believing what really is true, that gives reality an opening to take you down from behind.  I want to believe what is true partly for noble reasons, and partly out of sheer self-defense, because everything we believe that is not so renders us vulnerable in some way.

(If it’s true that knowledge is power, it’s primarily in this:  that knowledge, which we may define as having what we believe about the world be in conformity with the reality of the world as it actually is in itself, means that we don’t misevaluate ourselves, our situation, and the challenges we face, and thus are able to properly determine how to use whatever actual power we possess as we seek to manage our situation and respond to those challenges.)

As such, I’m not ashamed to say that my faith is, or was, a faith of the intellect first; the affective dimensions developed more slowly, and later.  This is why believing with the mind and trusting with the gut are very different things for me; I’d fail the Niagara test nine times out of ten, I expect, a walking advertisement for the truth of Flannery O’Connor’s observation that “it’s harder to believe than not to”—even, at times, if one already does believe.

And I do believe.  I’ve read Calvin and Luther and some of the Church Fathers, the Enlightenment philosophers and their modern counterparts, and I’ve spent a fair bit of time thinking about existentialism in its various forms; and I have come to the conclusion, for whatever it may be worth, that the Christian faith, and specifically that understanding of it mediated through the teaching of Augustine of Hippo and Calvin of Geneva, offers the best, the truest and deepest, account yet managed by human beings of the reality of existence.  Theologically, I believe that this represents the outworking of God’s providential promise to my parents and to the church in which I was raised for my salvation; existentially, if you will, I say that this is the means by which God’s Spirit has worked in my life.  It all comes to the same thing, in the end.  As I say, this particular path has its own virtue about it; but it does mean that I find myself all too often crying out with the father of the demoniac, “Lord, I believe!help me with my unbelief . . .”

That’s the reason why, not long after I started blogging in earnest, I posted Andrew Peterson’s song “No More Faith”:

I say faith is a burden—
It’s a weight to bear;
It’s brave and bittersweet.
And hope is hard to hold to;
Lord, I believe,
Only help my unbelief
‘Till there’s no more faith.

And it’s the reason why, a couple weeks later, I posted his friend Andrew Osenga’s song “We Are the Beggars at the Foot of God’s Door”:

We have known the pain of loving in a dying world,
And our lies have made us angry at the truth—
But Cinderella’s slipper fits us perfectly,
And somehow we’re made royalty with You.

O we of little faith, O You of stubborn grace . . .
We are the beggars, we are the beggars,
We are the beggars at the foot of God’s door.

That (sometimes despite myself) I believe, in trust that it’s not about my little faith, but about God’s stubborn grace:  we are (as Malcolm Muggeridge originally said) beggars at the foot of God’s door, if we can set aside our pride long enough to accept the position—and our joy is that he has welcomed us in.

Good pick for Obama

Unlike his successor as King County Executive, Ron Sims (whom the Obama administration tapped as deputy secretary at HUD), former Washington governor Gary Locke, whom the president has apparently chosen as his (third) nominee for Commerce, was someone I always respected.  He’s not as clean as reports would have you believe, as the folks at Sound Politics point out, but his fundraising misfeasance appears to have been relatively minor as these things go; he was an effective governor, a good administrator and to all appearances a man of good character, and generally pro-business and pro-free trade, which is important in a Commerce Secretary.  Since he’s also a loyal Democrat and an ethnic minority, here’s hoping his appointment quashes the administration’s unconstitutional attempt to take over the U. S. Census.Update:  from the AP article, it sounds like the administration will indeed leave the Census in the Commerce Department:

If confirmed by the Senate, Locke would assume control of a large agency with a broad portfolio that includes overseeing many aspects of international trade, oceans policy and the 2010 census. . . .”Who oversees the census won’t change,” White House press secretary Robert Gibbs said, adding that the director of it always reports to the commerce secretary. “I think members of Congress and the White House both have an interest in a fair and accurate census count.”

My hope, given that, is that Secretary Locke won’t bow to pressure to politicize the census, but will allow it to operate in as apolitical a fashion as possible.

The hypocrisy of professional liberals keeps growing

By that I mean the left wing of our political class and their hangers-on in the media (a group which constitutes most of the MSM, which is why the Left is now preparing to try to destroy all other forms of media).  As the Anchoress sums it up,

Seems increasingly like all the “Fascist Bush” caterwauling was the usual fake, dishonest theater meant as a means to an end—the end being to destroy the hated “election stealer” and his legacy, and not much more.But you know, for someone who “did everything wrong,” his policies suddenly seem wise and right to some surprising people. . . .So, the FISA stays, Gitmo (despite all the righteous-sounding rhetoric) is not so bad, after all. Terrorist-suspected detainees do not enjoy constitutional rights, after all. Patriot Act, stays. Whether succeeding presidents will abuse the powers Bush put in place to protect us is rather less a question than a surety. Not an “if” but a “when.” And that is troubling, oh yes.

Read the whole thing; as usual, she has a lot of links to some very interesting things.  The interesting thing to me about all this is that the hypocrisy she decries is, as I said in the title, that of professional liberals—by which I do not mean liberals who are professionals, but rather people who earn their money by being liberal and representing liberal positions in some way.  What we’re seeing here on the part of those folks is the betrayal of a lot of liberal positions and a lot of liberal beliefs—not all, by any means, but a fair number of them—and all the strongly-worded unequivocal promises Barack Obama offered to go with them.Now, from my point of view, there are real benefits to that.  One, as a foreign-policy realist, I believe that our country will be the safer for it; the chances of a nightmare scenario are much lower than they would be had President Obama actually kept the promises made by Candidate Obama.  Two, this will help (and indeed, seems to be already helping) rehabilitate President Bush, because it is in effect an admission by many of his loudest critics that they were wrong; not just for history but even in this era, folks are unlikely to be able to argue with any credibility that President Bush was bad for doing things that President Obama was good for doing.The interesting question to me in all this is, will the vast majority of American liberals sell out on this the way that the vast majority of American conservatives sold out on other issues during the last eight years?  Doug Hagler has argued repeatedly in comments on this blog that there effectively is no conservative party in our economic policy; he’s been absolutely right about that because the conservative core of the GOP essentially sold out those issues (and others) in order to support the president on the GWOT and judicial nominees.  The result, ultimately, was electoral catastrophe for the party.  Some folks are now arguing that conservative Republicans should have gone into opposition years ago in order to preserve their own integrity and avoid being lumped in with the GOP Establishment types who were setting so much of the government’s policy (and doing so quite poorly).It is, of course, too early to argue that liberals in this country should do the same with respect to the Obama administration; I’m not even sure there’s a good case that conservatives should have done so, though I agree that at the very least, there should have been some strong conservative challenges to some of the Bush administration’s policies.  It’s too early to predict whether blind adherence by the Left to the Obama administration will end as badly as the Right’s blind adherence to the Bush administration did.  But it isn’t too early to predict that if the liberal movement makes the same mistake in the coming years as the conservative movement did in the years just past, they will likely come to the end of this administration feeling the same way the conservative movement has been feeling:  like they’ve lost their soul.Remember, put not your trust in princes.  No matter how often you kiss them, they’re all still frogs at heart.

Jerusalem, San Francisco, and the meaning of eyewitnesses

In the comments on my post on worship and atheism, FVThinker is trying to argue (among other things) that “all the conflicting stories re: his resurrection” constitute sufficient reason to deny the Resurrection of Christ. Now, in the first place, I deny the assertion, which is just one more tired leftover from liberal German scholarship of a century and more ago; but let’s suppose, for the sake of argument, that we grant the point. Does this in fact constitute a compelling argument against the historicity of the Resurrection?No, it doesn’t. To understand why, consider a more recent historical incident, the San Francisco earthquake of 1906. If you’ve read Simon Winchester’s excellent book A Crack in the Edge of the World: America and the Great California Earthquake of 1906, then you probably remember that in the Prologue, Winchester quotes from five eyewitness accounts of the quake. Consider the following.

At the precise moment when the members of this quintet—three of them very distinguished men of science and two others of relatively modest social standing—were undertaking their very mundane activities . . . it was twelve minutes after five o’clock in the morning.However, this was a matter of provable fact only for the Englishman, so far as the record relates.  His name was George Davidson, and he, like his fellow scientists, wrote about the event that was to follow with a certain icy detachment.  He took care to mark the time that he first noticed something happening:  Suddenly and without warning his room, his house, and the very land all was standing upon began to shake, with a great, ever-increasing, and uncontrollable violence.It was, he knew full well, an earthquake.It came, he later reported,

from north to south, and the only description I am able to give of its effect is that it seemed like a terrier shaking a rat.  I was in bed, but was awakened by the first shock.  I began to count the seconds as I went towards the table where my watch was, being able through much practice closely to approximate the time in that manner.  The shock came at 5.12 o’clock.  The first sixty seconds were the most severe.  From that time on it decreased gradually for about thirty seconds.  There was then the slightest perceptible lull.  Then the shock continued for sixty seconds longer, being slighter in degree in this minute than in any part of the preceding minute and a half.  There were two slight shocks afterwards which I did not time.

Professor Davidson must have been as terrified as anyone, but he was a man trained to observe, and he knew in an instant what was taking place. . . .  the first full series of hard shocks, say his notes, lasted until 5h 13m 00s.  The shocks were slightly less from that point until 5h 13m 30s, then there was a slight lull, and by 5h 14m 30s all was quiet again. . . .  The official report on the earthquake said, in a tone that brooked no dispute, “We shall accept Professor Davidson’s time as the most accurate obtainable for San Francisco.

The second eyewitness account Winchester considers is that of the meteorologist Alexander George McAdie.

Professor McAdie was an ambitious and a punctilious man, and at the very moment that he was awakened . . . both his ambition and his scrupulous regard for factual observation . . . came promptly to the fore.  As had been his custom ever since he went through the Great Charleston Earthquake of 1886 (“for twenty years I have timed every earthquake I have felt,” he was later to write”), the instant he awoke and felt movement he clicked on his flashlight, noted the time on his fob watch, and recorded in his notebook everything that transpired.

I have lookt up the record in my note-book made on April 18, 1906, while the earthquake was still perceptible.  I find the entry “5h 12m” and after that “Severe lasted nearly 40 seconds.”  As I now remember it the portion “severe, etc.” was entered immediately after the shaking.

The only snag was that poor Professor McAdie somehow managed to misread his watch during all the confusion, and he wreathed himself in a magnificent maze of complications as he tried to explain the mistake.  He wrote that the day before the earthquake,

my error was “1 minute slow” at noon by time-ball, or time signals received in Weather Bureau and which my watch has been compared for a number of years.  The rate of my watch is 5 seconds loss per day; therefore the corrected time of my entry is 5h 13m 05s AM.  This is not of course the beginning of the quake.  I would say perhaps 6 or more seconds may have elapsed between the act of waking, realizing, and looking at the watch and making my entry.  I remember distinctly getting the minute-hand’s position, previous to the most violent portion of the shock.  The end of the shock I did not get exactly, as I was watching the second-hand, and the end came several seconds before I fully took in that the motion had ceased.  The second-hand was somewhere between 40 and 50 when I realized this.  I lost the position of the second-hand because of difficulty in keeping my feet, somewhere around the 20-second mark.However, there is one uncertainty.  I may have read my watch wrong.  I have no reason to think I did; but I know from experience such things are possible.  I have the original entries untouched since the time they were made.

The official report accepts that the unfortunate man did effect an error in making what was probably the most critical observation of his career—but, out of courtesy, adds that such a mistake would have been very easy to make.  The one-minute error is, then, officially compensated for, and Alexander McAdie enters the lists as having, essentially, timed the Great San Francisco Earthquake as beginning at 5h 12m 05s, recorded that it became extremely severe at 5h 12m 25s, and noted that it tailed off into bearable oblivion at 5h 12m 50s.  The whole event, in McAdie’s eyes, extended over little more than forty seconds—about half the time that Davidson had computed, from his observations that were made a little bit closer to town.

One of the other eyewitnesses Winchester cites is Fred Hewitt, a reporter for the San Francisco Examiner.

It was some minutes after five o’clock when he and his two friends crossed Golden Gate Avenue, spent five minutes talking to a pair of policemen—”blue-coated guardians” as he later wrote for his paper—and said their farewells.  Hewitt had turned north, the policemen back south down Larkin, when suddenly:

The ground rose and fell like an ocean at ebb tide.  Then came the crash . . . I saw those policement enveloped by a shower of falling stone.It is impossible to judge the length of that shock.  To me it seemed like an eternity.  I was thrown prone on my back and the pavement pulsated like a living thing.  Around me the huge buildings, looking more terrible becasue of the queer dance they were performing, wobbled and veered.  Crash followed crash and resounded on all sides. . . .The first portion of the shock was just a mild forerunning of what was to follow.  The pause in the action of the earth’s surface couldn’t have been more than a fraction of a second. . . . Then came the second and more terrific crash.

Now, in this collection of testimony from three different observers—including two professional scientists, people trained to observe, measure, and record things with uncommon precision—we see discrepancies in the details.  Indeed, between the two scientists we see discrepancies in their accounts of the start time and length of the quake which, given the level of precision to which they were trained and which they were attempting, can only be described as significant; and we have another witness who declares, “It is impossible to judge the length of that shock,” and offers another differing account of the quake’s progress.  We have here, at the least, “conflicting stories re:  the earthquake.”The question is, what can we conclude from these discrepancies?  Specifically, can we conclude that the earthquake didn’t happen?  Clearly, we can’t; the inference is logically unjustifiable—a point which is made helpfully obvious in this case by the fact that the earthquake is recent enough that we still have lots of other evidence as well which bears witness to it.  Even if several hundred or thousand years in the future, it somehow happened that the only record of that earthquake was these three statements, scholars of that future time would in no way be justified in concluding that because of these discrepancies, they could dismiss the San Francisco earthquake of 1906 as ahistorical—and if they insisted on doing so anyway, they would be arguing illogically to reach a false conclusion.What needs to be understood here is that whatever differences there may be in the details of these three reports, they agree on the core facts:  some little time past 5am in the cold morning of April 18, 1906, a major earthquake hit San Francisco, California, and their world was shaken, and their lives were never the same again.  Whatever they disagree on, they testify to that much with firm unanimity, and so their collective statements in fact provide strong support for the existence and significance of that event.The same may be said of the accounts of Jesus’ resurrection.  Even if we grant, for the sake of argument, actual discrepancies and contradictions in the details of the accounts, they agree on the core facts:  Jesus died on a Roman cross; his body was sealed in a rock tomb behind a heavy stone door; the following Sunday, the stone was found moved away from the tomb, and the tomb was empty; no one ever produced his body; and in fact, he appeared again alive on various occasions to various of his followers.  Whatever they might be said to disagree on, the reports agree that some time that Sunday morning, Jesus was raised from the dead, and their world was shaken, and their lives were never the same again; they testify to that much with firm unanimity, and so their collective statements in fact provide strong support for the existence and significance of that event.  To seize on alleged discrepancies as an excuse to conclude otherwise is every bit as logically unjustifiable as it would be to conclude from the eyewitness statements quoted above that there was no earthquake in San Francisco in 1906.The fact is, eyewitness testimony always varies—always. People see different things, perceive things differently, assign different levels of importance to various details, and yes, make mistakes and misremember things, even if they’re doing their best to be accurate.  Variance in eyewitness testimony is therefore to be expected.  Indeed, if you have a group of eyewitnesses who all tell the exact same story with no variation, that’s a pretty good sign that they’ve gotten together to get their stories straight, and thus that their testimony is probably unreliable in some way.  What the differences in the scriptural accounts primarily demonstrate is that there was no collusion between the witnesses—which is, on the whole, a good thing, and speaks more to their basic reliability than the reverse.

The absolute sovereignty of God

I am the Lord, and there is no other;
besides me there is no God.
I equip you, [Cyrus,] though you do not know me,
that people may know, from the rising of the sun
and from the west, that there is none besides me;
I am the Lord, and there is no other.
I form light and create darkness,
I make well-being and create calamity,
I am the Lord, who does all these things.
—Isaiah 45:5-7 (ESV)The Lord is in control in everything that happens—everything.  This is not to say that God desires bad things to happen, as if he enjoyed them; but it is to say that nothing happens apart from God’s power and his sustaining will. There is nothing good that does not come from his hand, and there is no trouble and no disaster that does not happen on his sufferance. God could, for instance, have prevented 9/11; he could have given Osama bin Laden a fatal accident years ago, or changed Bill Clinton’s mind to green-light bin Laden’s assassination, or had him knifed in the back by some Afghan tribesman. He didn’t choose to do that. He could have prevented our current economic crisis—fairly easily, in fact; he didn’t choose to do that either. I don’t know his reasons, for these or for any other disasters, and I won’t presume to declare the mind of God; but whether he decreed them for judgment or permitted them for other purposes, the testimony of Scripture is clear that they happened only by God’s will. Indeed, Scripture is clear that nothing happens, for good or ill, that is not in some way an expression of the sovereign will of Almighty God.This is a hard word for us. That God sends good things—yes, of course.  That only God deserves the credit for the good things that come to us—which is to say, that we can’t take credit for them ourselves—is usually not something we want to consider. Indeed, for many people, that’s a painfully hard idea to accept. But that God sends bad things—that’s something else again. Does that make God the author of evil?There are those who have believed so, and who have responded either by rejecting God or by rejecting the biblical testimony to his power and lordship. But the truth is, it doesn’t. God did not create evil—he could not do any such thing, because it’s completely contrary to his nature—nor did he ever desire that evil things should happen. However, when our first ancestors fell into sin, he chose not to obliterate them, toss out the world he’d made, and start over, but rather to put a plan in motion to redeem their sin; as a consequence, while he may at times prevent us from sinning and forbid disasters from occurring, there are other times when, for his own purposes, he doesn’t. The important thing is that there is no evil he permits in which he is not in some way at work in order to redeem it—and there is no suffering he allows in which he does not share, in the body of his Son our Lord Jesus Christ on the cross. God is not aloof from the pain of this world; in Christ, he has borne it all.(Excerpted from “God’s Mysterious Way”)