original sin - a theory

Adam's Sin isn't passed biologically. It's passed socially.

Each act of disobedience results in exile, and each exile results in more sinfulness. Adam and Eve were exiled from Eden, and God locked the east entrance to the garden. (Gen. 3:24)

The finger-pointing in the first parents passes down to their kids. One kids murders the other, denies responsibility. He gets exiled to a land "East of Eden" where he restlessly wanders. Notice his parents already were east of Eden. If Eden represents what humanity could have achieved, it is becoming an ever distant dream. (Insight from a pastor's message today: Whenever someone gets exiled, either by divine or self-mandate, it's always to the east: Gen. 13:11, Lot goes east; Gen. 11:2, people move east and build Babel; Jonah 4:5: Jonah, angry at God, camps to the east of Ninevah. Not sure how important this is.)

Sin multiplies with people. Lamech's senseless killings result in further alienation.

There's a generational curse passed down where the conflicts of brothers become conflicts between cousins and then becomes conflicts between families and whole peoples. There's a crescendo of sinfulness that always results in more alienation, more scattering, more restless desperation. That regress is vividly described in the O.T.

If I could shake out the general effects of original sin as it plays out in the dramas of the Old Testament, it's that (1) when people sin, they exile themselves further away from their own paradise, and (2) when people sin, they exile themselves further away from each other. 

C.S. Lewis wrote a story once about how people live in Hell. They can make houses simply by thinking it, which is pretty awesome. But they can't put up with each other. So they keep moving away from each other, enlarging hell and living at its fringes. They keep moving away until each person only has himself to hate. And that is hell. Hell is self. 

highlights, 7-8/14.

• Finding my younger doppelganger at a picnic. He was aloof, distracted, walked in circles around the see-saw. I had a funny feeling that I was looking at mini-me. So I walked up to him, introduced myself. He is about 11. I asked him what he watches on TV. He said he watches the History and Discovery channels. Suspicions confirmed. I asked him what he thinks about the prospects of colonizing Mars. We talked for a good 20 minutes about biospheres and aliens. 
• Seeing my name on the law firm telephone list shift over from the right column to the left. The right column is for secretaries and law interns. The left is for attorneys. 
• Hibachi with J. A first, with many more to come. 
• Interview with J.S. Mayall of Certilman Balin. 
• Conversation with Character and Ethics Committee representative. "I am glad to have helped. I hope the best for you, and your future."

losing my religion

My faith rises and recedes seasonally. But it looks like this year it has receded more at each down turn, eroding the "I believe" to "I feel", and now, to "I want to feel."

It used to be that my seasons of belief would be punctuated by short upticks of doubt. Now it appears the opposite: the doubt, the unbelief predominates. (Or was it always this way, and I just haven't noticed?)

I'm unconvinced by most messages I hear, and the more inspiring God is in a message, the angrier I am at the God that exists.

The God of the message gives you a great job in the financial sector, while the one that exists allows children to die horrifically. The God of the message makes you feel hopeful about your romantic prospects while the God that exists pollutes a river, starves a country. The God of the message is there to coddle you about your physical appearance and the God that exists fakes his own death or skips town when ISIS comes. The God of the message commands with great unction "Let there be...", and the one that exists can only, and always only, say "let it be, let it be."

Maybe I'm only losing faith in the artificial projections of God I've been taught to believe. Maybe the God I believe in is shedding - shedding himself of all the childish fancies I had of him, and maybe a living, breathing, personal God will emerge out of the dead shell - the kind that is there just to save you from sin but has no guarantees about anything else. But is such a God worth believing in?

half-baked idea for a skit

the setting: some post-apocalyptic future: what used to be Gaza. 

The sun is slowly setting. A purplish blue hue settles like a veil over the landscape.
Centuries ago the land was a holy place of sorts.
It was marked by cobblestone roads, dome-shaped buildings and burning incense.

But now it's a scarred and tangled mess of debris and moss and stains. This is where we find Amr, lighting a fire in a heap of rubbish..

He wears a faded regulation army rain jacket. He pulls the hood over his face as a cold wind kicks up the leaves around him. He warms his hands in the fire. He allows himself to be momentarily distracted by the swirl of leaves.

Footsteps approach him. Amr stiffens, reaches for his rifle, and tries to make out the stranger. He tries to look for a signa in the newcomer's overcoat that marks him a fellow veteran, but his eyes aren't as good as they were. Amr shouts at the newcomer to halt and identify himself.

The stranger identifies himself as Joshua. "Joshua? That is an Israeli name. You are no friend here." Joshua slowly takes a step forward and replies, "Or anywhere. But may I share your fire?"

Joshua is now close enough for the fire to shine on his face. Amr peers up at his face. Joshua's face appeared young except where his smile caused it to wrinkle. A smile, and not a smirk. It did not, however, placate Amr. "You want me to share my fire with you!? Who are you, an Israeli, to ask me of such a favor? Do you mock me?"

For Israelis have no dealings with Palestinians.

On any other day, with anyone else, the conversation would have ended.

But Joshua, without breaking his smile, takes another step forward.