So very, very wonderful

A week late for Independence Day, but marvelous nonetheless.

Regarding walls

As with most strict constructionist interpreters of the United States Constitution and conservative  American Christians, I was pleased by the Supreme Court's decision in the Hobby Lobby case last week. That pleasure was marred somewhat by comments on the case I read and heard in news sources to the effect that this decision lowered the wall of separation between Church and state.

I've never been entirely satisfied with Thomas Jefferson's "wall" metaphor as a description of the First Amendment's religion clauses, not least because of its origins in the campus of a university in Virginia other than the one from which I graduated. Still, it's somewhat useful, but only if one understands what a wall is. To point out the obvious, a wall keeps whatever is on its two sides separate from one another. To the apparently architecturally-challenged commentariat, however, it seems a wall is intended only to keep the interests of the one side from influencing the other, while permitting the other side to infringe freely on the interests of the one side.

In my opinion, the Hobby Lobby case was rightly decided because it put the federal government back on its side of the wall, and denied it the power to force religious persons to act contrary to their consciences. The commentariat, and now Colorado Senator Mark Udall, apparently believe the federal government is being conscripted into religious endorsement when it does not force religious persons to act contrary to their consciences. I find this is a somewhat peculiar understanding of the separation doctrine.

What's even more stunning, of course, is that the federal government is now forcing private citizens to take certain actions, and private institutions must sue in the courts to preserve their basic constitutional rights. I cannot imagine any clearer evidence that the American Republic, as founded and constituted, no longer exists on the shores of our shining seas.

Counting the cost of pastors

To the editor:

  I am grateful the June 2014 issue of New Horizons opened a discussion on the cost of a pastor's education in the OPC. Reading the two articles dealing specifically with that cost, I thought a reader could easily come away with the impression it is the responsibility of two parties: the pastor and, perhaps, his home congregation when pursuing the ministry. It seems to me there's at least one other party: the congregation(s) the man is eventually called to serve. Implicitly, every congregation in the OPC has asked their pastor to acquire a rather expensive education so he may serve them.

  Even amongst those who graduate university and seminary without education debt, it's exceedingly rare to find a man who has anything like the savings or retirement funds he might have had he been working during those years. As with any man who invests heavily in an education, the pastor needs to recoup his investment through the labors which that education makes possible. The more presbyteries, sessions and congregations realize this simple fact, the less we as a denomination will have to be concerned about pastors who reach retirement without the means to support themselves into old age.

  Not all our Churches will be able to pay their pastors salaries commensurate with their educational investment. Nonetheless, just as every congregation recognizes it must eventually pay down the mortgage on its building, it should also make paying its pastor a proper wage an eventual goal. After all, "the Lord commanded that those who proclaim the gospel should get their living by the gospel" (1Corinthians 9:14).

grace & peace,

 The Presbyterian Curmudgeon

Yet more on Psalmody

To the editor:

  In the June 2014 issue of New Horizons, R. Gaffin offers a brief consideration of Psalm 137 in order to question its propriety in public worship, and from thence to assert total psalmody (the use of all 150 Psalms in Christian worship) is not required of the Church today. Living in Denver, in the heart of the Great American Desert, our congregation has never had occasion to sing "Eternal Father, Strong to Save," a petition for "those in peril on the sea," and I can hardly imagine a time when we will. Nevertheless, I am sure that hymn will find a place in some congregation's worship. A hymnal is for all congregations everywhere, as is a psalter-hymnal; while Mr. Gaffin wonders whether Psalm 137 is "suitable for singing in public worship," I would guess that some pastor somewhere today thinks it highly suitable. 

  Not incidentally, this argument (that our congregation should have the option of singing all 150 Psalms for whatever occasion may arise in her corporate life) led our session to authorize the purchase of The Trinity Psalter some years ago to supplement The Trinity Hymnal. The continued existence of that Psalter (not to mention the recently revised RPCNA Psalter or the also updated Canadian Reformed Book of Praise, amongst many extant psalter-hymnals) by itself questions the need for an OPC psalter-hymnal. The Church should be able to sing all the Psalms and songs of Scripture; need she do so from an OPC-branded songbook?

grace & peace,

 The Presbyterian Curmudgeon

It's not "Pacific Rim"

But what was Pacific Rim? It was a beautiful meditation on the spiritual nature of giant robots fighting giantic monsters arising from the ocean; truth be told, however, it was a little weak on plot. Okay, really weak on plot and character, since every character was more archetype than human being. Truly amazingly depicted archetypes, granted.

Godzilla manages to root itself in plot and genuine human relationship. For the record, it's nice to see a main character suffer a major familial tragedy in childhood and go on to establish what appears to be a perfectly normal family in adulthood: cheering, and rather true to life. If I have any substantive criticism of the film, it's that we didn't get to see enough of the titular character himself. Still, I was very pleased with what I did see. From what I remember from watching all the Godzilla movies during my childhood (thanks, Washington D.C.'s Channel 20!), they got his scream just about perfect.

Having seen the new Godzilla with Things 1 and 2 this afternoon, I don't know why some reviewers saw an environmental/mankind-gets-what-he-deserves-for-messing-with-nature theme. On that count, it pales in comparison to the overt anti-nuke/pro-green emphases of the original films. Exhibit A: Godzilla vs. The Smog Monster, which, in all seriousness, may have been my favorite of the Godzilla movies. And then there's its theme song, which left my 12 year-old self slack-jawed in amazement.

In sum: not Pacific Rim, but since Pacific Rim isn't out this summer, go see Godzilla instead. Its makers may have let him grow to a size too large to be possible, let alone believed, but at least they remembered that he's our hero.

Psalm 75

is the third psalm in Book III of the Psalter. In Book III's introduction, Psalm 73, Asaph takes comfort from remembering the Lord's justice, saying he will "tell of all [God's] works" (Psalm 73:28). Psalm 75 returns to the theme of justice and judgment on the wicked, and so Psalm 75:9 echoes Psalm 73:28 when Asaph says "I will declare [the Lord's judgment] forever."

No exit?

Mrs. Curmudgeon has two friends from two entirely separate circles (and neither circle is the congregation which I serve), two friends who have only Mrs. Curmudgeon in common and have not, so far as we know, ever met. These two women are members of two different Churches, from entirely separate ecclesiastical traditions. However, both of their families are very unhappy with the respective congregations in which they are enrolled. In both cases, the issues are varied, and while none quite rise to the level of doctrinal error, they are enough to produce great unhappiness and little discernible Spiritual growth.

These families have one striking similarity: in each, it looked like the husband would receive a temporary assignment out of state, and both couples saw this as their best chance to escape their respective congregations.

If that's not a sign, I don't know what is.

Look, I'm a high-Church presbyterian: as a clerk of session, I take Church membership rolls extremely seriously, and frown on anything which looks like Church-hopping. But people, if one of your biggest reasons to move to another state is the opportunity to worship elsewhere, you're not a Church member. You're a hostage.

I've argued before that Church membership vows do not bind a believer to a particular congregation for the rest of one's natural life, so I don't intend to retread that ground here. Here, I just want to say that if you're that unhappy, you should leave. Soon. Have a conversation with the pastor and elders, explain what your concerns are (of course, you've probably already done this a dozen times), then leave. Speaking for myself, if there's anyone in my congregation who finds our fellowship so aggravating, I have no desire to force him to keep worshiping with us. Perhaps he'll do better elsewhere; who am I to complain if he does (1 Corinthians 3:4-9)?

If the fire marshal is completing his inspections on a regular basis, there should be clearly marked exits from your congregation's sanctuary. Feel free to use them.

A spelling dilemna

For the first couple decades or so of my life, I spelled it "dilemna," then felt foolish when I learned the proper spelling is "dilemma." As this website documents, however, I was far from alone: countless multitudes of English spellers around the world labor under the same misapprehension, and all for no good reason that anyone can figure out.

I can't decide if all the company should make me feel better, or if this is an example of the gross ignorance of crowds (as opposed to the wisdom of crowds).

I was alerted to said website by the excellent podcast of the Canadian Broadcasting Company radio show, Wiretap. Even though I listen to it every week, I find myself unable to turn off the universal American superpower of "Caydar:" as soon as I hear a Canadian accent, I am compelled to say to the nearest bystander, "That's a Canadian."

Because if you hear something, you should tell someone.

An indispensable podcast

I stopped acquiring audiobooks because of the inordinately large number of podcasts to which I subscribe: while I listen to an hour or more a day whilst doing chores or working out (anything to distract myself from the misery of physical exertion), I can find myself two or more weeks behind their release dates. However, so many podcasts went into reruns or hiatus at last year's end that, come Christmas, my podcast playlist almost dwindled down to nothing.

Almost.

That was when Russ Robert's Econtalk (my second-favorite podcast after The New Yorker's fiction podcast [because I love the short story and appreciate hearing intelligent readers discuss them]) did a joint episode with Tony Gill's Research on Religion, a weekly discussion on the social scientific study of religion. For anyone with any level of interest in the role of religion in our culture or in how religions (and in practice, Christian Churches) function as social organizations, it's a terrific resource. In my opinion, it's indispensable for pastors and Church leaders given the ever-changing, and evermore forgetful of the First Amendment's free exercise clause, legal landscape: for example, this week's episode on religious property cases coming before the U.S. Supreme Court.

Not every episode is equally indispensable; I felt no compunction over skipping the one on Roman Catholic saints, for instance. That, however, is a fairly high mark: one has to check out each installment for fear of missing something absolutely necessary. If you subscribe to podcasts, add this one to your list.

Regarding the Puritans

In any given assembly of confessional presbyterian pastors, I am sure to stand out not only because of my wit, charm, and remarkable good looks, but also because of my general skepticism toward "the Puritans." The Christian rapper Propaganda recently raised quite a ruckus with his Precious Puritans, which is useful, if for nothing else, for pointing out that the Puritans themselves may not have been as impeccable as their Savior. Puritanism was an ism: that is, not a Church or a denomination or even an ecclesiastical organization, but an assortment of attitudes and ideas expressed by any number of protestants throughout the British Isles. As an ism, Puritanism is a general classification of mood and temperament, but in practice is no more specific than today's "evangelicalism," a noun which is so vague as to include Baptists and presbyterians and hard-shell Calvinists and skeptics of the doctrine of hell.

In the April issue of Ordained Servant, William B. Kessler has a review of A Puritan Theology which gets at the heart of my discomfort with puritanolatry. Kessler has no beef with the Puritans themselves, but notes they existed in a particular historical circumstance, some several centuries ago, and we exist in a different one, today. Exactly so. 

Let the reader note I spent years outlining Jonathan Edwards sermons, which should prove I have a generous attitude toward puritanism. However, I recognize the Puritans lived and ministered in a different time and place than I do, and dealt with concerns peculiar to their day, not mine. If I meet a layperson who tells me he reads lots of Puritan literature, I can be sure said layperson struggles with assurance of salvation. This is because Puritans pastors ministered in a cultural and ecclesiastical context of massive presumption, in which many who were dead in their sins felt confident of God's good graces because they happened to have been born into a Christian family. Accordingly, Puritan preachers tended to hit presumption of salvation hard. In our day, the Christian with a sensitive conscience who reads Puritan sermons without knowledge of their historical context will often decide he must be very, very hard of heart and lose all sense of assurance of salvation. It's a sure course for spiritual shipwreck.

Read the Puritans of old if you must, but if you want to know what modern Puritanism sounds like, it's the preaching of Jay Adams and the teaching of the Christian Counseling and Education Foundation. They don't have buckles on their shoes, but they do apply the Bible to all of life. And with smaller words, to boot.