Emil Brunner

   Emil Brunner is the John Paul Jones of theology.

   He's a guy whose influence has been felt by millions of Christians around the world today. His books line the shelves of theology libraries throughout the globe, and it's entirely likely that whoever your favourite theologian of the past century is, they've probably been molded or shaped by Brunner to at least some extent.

   And yet, if you mention him, you'll probably be met with reactions like “He's that German guy, right?” or “Ohhh, Brunner! Didn't he have something to do with Barth?” or possibly “My doctor thought I had Brunner once, but it ended up being mono.” Of course, this is assuming that they've even heard the name at all, when it's entirely likely that this is not the case.

   Which is a shame, really.

   Like John Paul Jones, Brunner isn't overlooked because he isn't all that memorable. He's overlooked because as great as he was, he's surrounded by people who were even greater. Stanley Grenz once referred to him as “a giant overshadowed by colossi” and that's a pretty good way of putting it. The man was constantly in the shadow of the titans who surrounded him – most notably Karl Barth. Of course, there's nothing particularly special about that, as every Christian authour in the past century is overshadowed by Barth, but Brunner feels it especially keenly since he was a close friend and peer of Barth who argued for roughly similar positions during the same time frame.

   In fact, Brunner was almost never mentioned outside of references to Barth. Brunner ended up in a lot of ways playing the Robin to Barth's Batman, the Ben Affleck to Barth's Matt Damon, the John Paul Jones to – wait, I made that reference already. But Brunner was more than Barth's sidekick. He had his own distinct life, arguments, and perspectives.

So, who is Brunner?

   Brunner was a Swiss theologian born in 1889 just outside of Zurich. He studied at the University of Zurich and eventually ended up completing doctoral studies in theology at the University of Berlin in 1913, and as a result of his studies received awards and honorary degrees from universities throughout Europe and the United States. From there he went on to teach high school in England until 1914, when he returned to Switzerland to serve in the militia during the first World War. After that, he ended up serving as vicar (which is like a priest or pastor, only they make less money. Like an old-fashioned word for “intern”), then pastoring a church in Obstaldan, after which he went on to have a long life where he worked as both pastor as well as a professor and scholar at the University of Zurich.

   Okay, so now that we've got that info dump (which I'm sure you're all very thankful for), what do we make of it? Why should we care about this man?

   Well, there's a couple of interesting things about Brunner that are worth taking a look at.

   A huge concept for Brunner was the I-Thou thing. A Jewish philosopher from the early twentieth century named Martin Buber developed this idea that relationships can basically be divided into two categories: “I-It” relationships, and “I-Thou” relationships. I'm gonna try and summarize these concepts, but bear in mind that in doing so I can't really do them justice. Buber said that we basically interact with the world around us in two ways: As though it were human (an I-Thou relationship) or as though it were inanimate (an I-It relationship). Brunner read this and thought, “Alright, hang on, the way we talk about God – isn't that usually in an I-It way? But shouldn't it be an I-Thou relationship?”

   In other words, Brunner took this idea and ran with it, leading to something called “Biblical personalism.” God wasn't a truth-claim that we have an opinion about. No, to Brunner, God was a person that we interact with (or don't interact with, as the case may be). This obviously isn't a new idea, but it injected the conversation about God with a certain sort of immediacy that wasn't there before. When we look at some of the rhetoric that's used by some Christians today, like talking about having a personal relationship with Christ, these are ideas that come, in part, from Brunner's work.

   (Note if you're like me and are weird and read this and think “Man, that's interesting, I want to know more about this whole I-Thou thing” then check this out: http://plato.stanford.edu/entries/buber/#DiaITho. The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy is a great peer-reviewed, online source that can give you all the information you want and then some).

Okay, so what does this mean? 

   Well, it's actually pretty important. It's remarkably easy for us to look at our relationship with God in an I-It framework. We distance ourselves personally from God and instead start to see him as an object: A vending machine who gives us what we want, or a stuffed animal that we can hug and tell our secrets to, or an impersonal tool of justice or wrath that we need to hide from when we've done something wrong. These perspectives fail to accurately describe God as a person.

   Unfortunately, I'm just about out of space. This summary of Brunner and his life is tragically incomplete (I mean, I'm not even scratching the surface) but hopefully it will provoke some of you to go look up his works and spend some time reading, digesting, and critiquing the concepts that he puts forward.

Do Catholics Worship Saints?

No.

Harry Potter and the Sleeping Dragon

(Note: You can't say things in a way that's both simple and accurate. When I present positions, I usually link to the corresponding SEP article, so that you can read up on it yourself and get a more complete picture than my (very) brief summaries. All I'm trying to do hear is present the basic ideas, and hope that if I'm strawmanning, I'm at least strawmanning both sides equally).

The Story

   "Come on, Harry! The cave should only be a few minutes away!"

   Harry, Ron and Hermione were in a dense forest, picking their way through the underbrush as they slowly but inexorably made their way towards their objective.

   "Wait, hang on a moment," said Ron. "Did you hear that?"

   "Hear what?" asked Harry

   "It sounded like a snort, or something."

   "I didn't hear anything" said Harry.

   "No, Harry, I heard it too," said Hermione. "In fact, it almost sounded like -"

   "- a dragon!" shouted Ron.

   It was true. Having reached a clearing in the forest, they discovered that they had reached the cave that was their destination. Most inconveniently, however, their way to the cave was blocked by a sleeping dragon.

   "That's it," said Ron. "We can't handle a dragon. We'd better go back."

   "We can't go back, Ron!" said Harry. "We've got to get the horcrux!"

   "I thought we were searching for the hallows," said Hermione.

   "Whatever plot device, Hermione! It's in the cave!"

   "Alright, well not leave then," said Ron, "but maybe see if the cave opens up somewhere else. Perhaps there's another entrance?"

   "...wait, hang on," said Hermione. "Something isn't right."

   "What do you mean?"

   "Well, think about it. If Voldemort had a dragon, why would he leave it around just guarding a cave?"

   "Uh, gee, I don't know, maybe because he's got a piece of his soul in there?"

   "Right, Ron, but he doesn't know that we're looking for them. I mean, if he had something as powerful as a dragon under his control, wouldn't he be doing something else with it other than leaving it around on guard duty in case someone were to happen to come around? I mean, think about it. Having a dragon here would draw a lot of unnecessary attention to this cave. If the last thing he wants is for people to know about this cave, why guard it with something that soon half the countryside would know about? For that matter, if he had a dragon around here, wouldn't we have heard something about it? I mean, in a forest this small, you can't keep a dragon the size of a house secret. And what would it eat? I haven't seen anything in here other than a few squirrels, have you? There isn't enough food around here for something that big. And look! It's not tied to anything. There's nothing keeping it here. If Voldemort could make dragons do what he wanted, without taking them prisoner, wouldn't he have already won the war?"

   "That's great, Hermione, but none of that changes the fact that there's a great, massive dragon right in front of us!"

   "I don't know Ron, I think maybe it does."

   There was silence for a moment before Harry asked "What are you saying, Hermione?"

   "I'm saying that it doesn't add up. Nothing about Voldemort keeping a dragon here makes any sense. I'm saying that there's no dragon here. It's some sort of magical illusion."

   Harry and Ron were quiet as they digested this. Finally -

   "You're bloody mental!" Ron erupted. "Look, Hermione, what you're saying is great and everything, really it is, but there's still a great big dragon in front of us! I can see it! I can hear it! I can smell it, and believe me, I really wish I couldn't do that."

   "Okay, so it's a really clever illusion, but we're talking about one of the greatest wizards who ever lived!"

   "You can say whatever you want. You can stay here and talk about reasons why the dragon isn't real until the sun comes up, for all I care. All I know is that, right here, right now, there's a dragon directly in front of me. Sure, maybe you're right. Maybe it is an illusion. But do we really want to bet our lives on that?"

   "Well, Ron, can you refute my arguments?"

   "Do I really need to? I mean, like I said, you can go on all you want, but there's still a dragon. It's still here. I don't know how else to put this. Here, look!"

   "Ron, wait!" Harry cried, but it was too late. Ron had already pitched a stone out into the clearing. It bounced off the dragon's tail with a thump before rolling away into the grass. The dragon did not stir.

   "There, see? The dragon's real. If it were an illusion, the stone would've gone through it or something."

   "Oh, yes Ron, real convincing. It's not as though we learned how to make illusions solid back in third year, or anything!"

   "Well what do you think we should do, then, Hermione? If you're wrong and the dragon's real, it will kill us as soon as we get near enough to wake it up!"

   "Well? If you're wrong, Ron, and we go away and start searching for another entrance - that may not even exist, I might add - we'll lose days, if not weeks, and Voldemort will end up killing us anyway!"

   "That's mental! You're mental!"

   "Mental? I'll show you mental!"

   "Stop it, both of you," Harry said sharply. He needed to think. The time to make a decision had come.

What's Going On

     This time, Ron and Hermione are bickering over something called epistemology. Epistemology basically asks the question: How do we know what we know? Or put another way, what is truth? Hermione and Ron both embodied two major perspectives here.

     Hermione was arguing for something called rationalism. Rationalism is the notion that the best path to truth is logic. Ultimately, our minds are the most important tool for determining what's true and what isn't. If something doesn't make sense, then it can't really be true. Perhaps the most well-known example of rationalism is the French philosopher Rene Descartes. His famous statement "cogito ergo sum," or "I think, therefore I am," was brought forth as an answer to the problem he posed, how can we have absolute knowledge? His answer: The only thing we can claim to have absolute knowledge of is the fact that we are thinking. Our senses could all be deceived, the evidence could be misleading, but the one thing we can know with absolute certainty is that we think. To say "I think that I don't think" is a contradiction, an impossibility. So to the rationalist, the surest source of truth comes through what our thoughts can logically determine to be true.

     To Hermione, it is completely illogical that a dragon could be there. So, since reason is saying one thing, and the evidence is saying something different, the evidence must be flawed, and our senses must be deceived - in this case, by a magic spell.


     Ron, on the other hand, was arguing more for something called empiricism. Empiricism is the notion that the best path to truth is experience. Logic can be flawed, and reasoning can be faulty, but the facts are the facts, and nothing can change that. One of the most prominent empiricists is British philosopher John Locke, who is often associated with the Aristotelean idea of "tabula rasa" - that is to say, that we come into this world as blank slates, and everything we know has to be taught to us. In other words, we develop knowledge through experience of the world around us: contrast this with the rationalist perspective that we come into this world with the ability to know all sorts of things, all we've got to do is use our brains to puzzle those things out logically.

     Ron claimed that he had knowledge of the dragon because he was experiencing the dragon's presence: He saw it, he smelt it, he heard it, and eventually he, in a way, touched it. He observed the dragon. To Ron, all the logic in the world isn't going to change any of that - you can't just logic away what your senses experience. You can't just logic away facts.

     Now, taken to extremes, both of those positions seem a bit silly. Rationalism, when taken to the extreme, claims that we can never really know or trust anything outside of what we can determine using logic alone; empiricism, when taken to the extreme, means that we can never believe anything that isn't directly communicated to us by our senses. So on one end, we've got a sort of extreme skeptic who constantly questions her senses; on the other end, we've got a sort of robot who just constantly observes and never draws conclusions. Immanuel Kant managed to synthesize the two positions - he looked at rationalism and said "Listen, logic is important, but if you never bother to root it in empirical evidence, it's all just going to seem fantastical. You can talk all you want about some grand theory that's logically airtight, but if the theory doesn't play out in practice, then you've got to revisit it," and he looked at empiricism and said "Evidence is awesome, really, it is, but if it's the only thing you trust, then you can never actually say anything meaningful. All evidence says is that every time you drop something from a tower, it falls. If you want to start talking about why it falls, or whether it will fall again next time, you've got to go beyond evidence and start using reason and logic."

    And this, of course, is the position most people take today. Hermione's logical conclusions were still based on empirical evidence (e.g. there weren't enough animals around to sustain a dragon's appetite), while Ron was still drawing logical conclusions from his evidence. So why bother discussing it? Well, because as we saw above, there's going to come a time when what is logically true and what the facts indicate to be true contradict each other - and which one you trust is going to have a huge impact on how you reason and interact with the world around you.


     A great place where this sort of conversation comes up is in crime dramas - think CSI, Sherlock, Law and Order, that sort of thing. A fairly common episode premise is that a crime is committed, but the evidence gathered doesn't make sense - the person who it's pointing to has no motive, nothing to gain from the crime, and everything to lose. Sometimes in the show, we'll see a rationalist. This might happen more in a show like Sherlock - the investigator might look at all the facts and say "Okay, these are the facts, but they're stupid facts," and go about investigating. Sure enough, by the end of the episode we've discovered that the person was framed - the facts point to them because the real killer specifically arranged it to look that way. On the other hand, we might see an empiricist. This might happen more in a show like CSI - the investigator looks at all the reasons why the suspect couldn't be the killer, but then looks at the evidence and says "It doesn't add up, but the evidence doesn't lie. He must be hiding something." Sure enough, by the end of the episode, we've discovered that the person with no motive and nothing to gain was actually the victim's ex.


     The point is that in the first scenario, the investigator says "If the facts don't make sense, then there's something wrong with the evidence," while in the second scenario, the investigator says "If the facts don't make sense, then there's something wrong with our line of reasoning." Ultimately, when push comes to shove, most of us will fall into one of those two categories: Do we trust what seems to make sense over what the facts indicate to be true? Or do we trust what the facts indicate to be true over what seems to make sense?


     Asking and answering these questions reveal a great deal about how we view the world around us.


     As a final note, sometimes empiricism is associated with the hard sciences, while rationalism is associated with things like mathematics and philosophy. It's very important that we have both in either camp! The hard sciences need people who are willing to stand up and say "I don't care what the evidence says, it doesn't make any sense! You need to reconsider your theory!" just as fields like mathematics or philosophy need people who are willing to stand up and say "I don't care how logical it is, it doesn't play out in reality! There's zero evidence to support it!" When we don't do this and cordon off rationalists and empiricists to separate disciplines, all of humanity is poorer for it.

Harry Potter and the Question of Ethics

   Last night the idea of using Harry Potter-themed short stories to explain philosophy came to me in a dream. That might be the strangest sentence I've ever written, but it seemed like it would be fun enough that it would be worth trying, no matter how it turns out.

The Story

   "Okay, so according to what we know, only someone pure of heart can get the horcruxes and defeat Voldemort."

   Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were all sitting about Ron's bedroom in the Weasley home, discussing how they were going to vanquish the evil Voldemort once and for all.

   "But I don't understand," said Harry. "Didn't I already gather the horcruxes and defeat Voldemort?"
   "Harry..." Hermione gives an exasperated sigh. "We've been over this. That happened in the books -"
   "- and the movies" Ron chimed in helpfully
   "Yes, yes, and the movies. But that was different. This isn't a book -"
   "- or a movie"
   Hermione glared at Ron before continuing. "Or a movie. This is a hackneyed attempted to use a pop culture phenomenon to explain principles of philosophy."
   "Oh, I see," said Harry, who didn't. "Anyway, it says I've got to be pure of heart. How can anyone know if they're pure of heart?"
   "Oh, well that's easy," Hermione said. "You see, being pure of heart means that you've stuck to a certain set of principles. We've all got a duty to improve our lives and the lives of the people around us, so all we need to do is see if you've actually stuck with that duty or not. If you have, then you're pure of heart, simple as that."
   "That's stupid!" burst out Ginny
   "Fine then," Hermione said crossly, "If you're so smart, let's hear you tell us what it means to be pure of heart."
   "Well," said Ginny, "Obviously it's not about just sticking to a set of rules, or something" (at this Hermione glared, but said nothing). "Anyone can do that. Just doing what is considered good doesn't make you a good person. You have to be a good person! I mean, if someone were to live according to that duty, but the whole time they were just doing that so people would think they're good, when they're really plotting on enslaving everyone, would that make them pure of heart?"
   "Well, no, but -"
   "Exactly! Why you do things is just as important as what you do!"
   "Oh, you're both mental!" says Ron, shaking his head. "All you're doing is talking about what you do or why you do it. Who cares about any of those things? You can try to help someone out of duty, or because you want to be a good person, or whatever, but unless what you do actually helps that person, what difference does it make? Being pure of heart isn't about principles and character and all that sort of rubbish, it's about doing things that actually make the world a better place. If we listened to Hermione, we'd spend all our time trying to make sure we're helping people in a way that lines up with our duty, and if we listened to Ginny, we'd never help people at all! We'd just sit around all day hoping to become a better person!"
   "What! That's not - MUM!" Ginny hollered, "RON'S STRAWMANNING MY POSITION AGAIN!"
   "RONALD ARTHUR WEASLEY!" came a shrill voice from downstairs, "WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT MISREPRESENTING SOMEONE ELSE'S ARGUMENTS?"
   "That it's intellectually dishonest and is nothing more than manipulating people into thinking I'm right," parroted Ron while rolling his eyes. "But you see my point, don't you? Good actions and good character are all fine and dandy, but unless they actually produce good results, who cares?"
   "I care," said Ginny sharply. "I mean, really, Ron, where would you draw the line? If I were to become a murderer and go around killing people for fun, but only killed criminals, would you say that I'm pure of heart because the consequences of my actions are that there's less crime? What if I became a murderer to rid the world of tacky decorators? Would that make me pure of heart?"
   "What! No! Ginny, you know that the consequences have to be weighed against the actions! MUUUUM! NOW GINNY'S STRAW-"
   "Alright, alright" Ginny cut in. "I get it. But don't you see? There's no way of actually calculating whether the actions outweigh the consequences. It's all down to someone's opinion. Suppose there's a mouse in my room, and it's bothering me, and I don't really like chocolate frogs, so I use them to lure the mouse away and into a trap. But then you come up, and you didn't really care about the mouse but you loved chocolate frogs. I think it's a good consequence, because getting rid of a pest outweighs losing a bit of candy, but you're all upset, because to you there's no way giving up your favourite treat is worth being rid of a mouse that really wasn't bothering you anyway. Was that a good action or a bad action?"
   "I know you both think you're arguing against me," Hermione said smugly, "but really you're only proving me right. See, how do you develop a good character? And how do you bring about good consequences? Why, by doing good actions, of course. If you get into the habit of living according to the duty to do good, then over time that's going to make you into a person of good character. And if you base your actions on the duty to do good, then those actions are probably going to bring about good consequences. We have a duty to be honest with one another. Our entire society depends on it. If we hold to that duty, then we will become an honest person, and we'll never have to deal with the consequences of being dishonest. See? Like I said, it's easy."
   "No, it's not easy, Hermione," Ginny retorted. "Lying isn't always wrong. Not if you're doing it for a good reason. Like sparing someone's feelings! Or covering up for a friend. Lying's only wrong if you're doing it to hurt the people around you. Like I said, it's about intentions. Whether something's good or not is about why you're doing it."
   "Oh, so someone can do whatever they want so long as they're doing it for the right reasons! Yes, who cares about lying, lying's fine so long as it's a "Good Person" who's doing the lying. Well, Ginny, if someone doesn't live up to their moral duty to be honest, how could you call them a good person? How could you say 'Oh, that person lies all the time, but they mean well, so they're pure of heart!'"
   "I agree with Hermione. Being lied to is never a good consequence. No one enjoys it."
   "Thank you, Ron."
   "But I do think that sometimes there are consequences that are worse than being lied to, and that if the only way you can avoid this sort of consequence is through lying, then lying is the most ethical thing to do."
   "Ron, that's no different from what I'm saying!" argued Ginny
   "It's completely different from what you're saying! I'm saying that doing something that brings about a bad consequence is only okay if you can tangibly show that the bad consequence is still the best possible consequence! You can't - you can't just go around bringing about whatever bad consequences you'd like because you've got the best intentions at heart!"
   "Ron! Please. I'm not saying you can just do whatever you like. I'm saying that if you work on developing your character, and becoming a moral person, then your actions and the consequences of those actions will become moral as well."
   "Ginny, an action can't just become moral because of the person doing it. Either it's moral or it isn't. And Ron - I'm surprised at you! You know full well that there will always be a way out of a situation that doesn't involve shirking your moral duty! Doing something bad, even to bring about something good, is immoral."
   "No, Hermione, I don't 'know that full well.' Please explain to me how every situation ever will have a potential good consequence. Oh! That's right! Because you don't care about consequences! To you, holding to your moral duty, even if the consequences are awful, is good! And straying from that duty to bring about fantastic results is the pinnacle of evil, isn't it?"
   "Ron, you can't bring about good by doing evil!"
   "According to who?"
   "According to me, who says that actions and consequences are irrelevant! It's about who you are!"
   "Alright Ginny, how do you define who someone is without looking at their actions?"
   "Gee, I don't know, Hermione, how do you define their actions without looking at the consequences?"
   "Look, Ron, we've been over -"
   "Shut up. Shut up! SHUT UP!" Harry shouted. The room went silent. "Look, okay, thank you for your input, alright? I appreciate it. No, I do, really. Maybe we should just get going."

The Explanation

     The positions held by Hermione, Ginny, and Ron are the three major positions that comprise what is called normative ethics, which is the study of how people ought to act in order to be ethical. Now, the three positions presented here have been simplified, and are a little extreme - in real life, people tend to be more nuanced in their views, and might hold to a more complex system than what we've seen today. They also may draw from multiple or even all three positions. Nonetheless, people generally tend to gravitate towards one position in particular, which comes to be their main way of filtering life and understanding how they should act.

     Hermione was arguing something that amounts to what we call deontological ethics. This is essentially the idea that there is a certain standard of ethical behaviour, or perhaps a set of ethical rules, and to be ethical is to live your life according to those standards or rules. Perhaps the most well-known proponent of deontological ethics is the German philosopher Immanuel Kant, who developed the notion of categorical imperatives, which can be understood as standards for our actions to be compared to,

     Ginny, on the other hand, was contending for something that's closer to what is called virtue ethics. Roughly speaking, virtue ethics is the concept that morality is about how you approach a situation, rather than about what you actually do. A major advocate of virtue ethics was the Greek philosopher Aristotle, who outlined this notion in the Nicomachean Ethics. The fundamental concept here is that there are a series of virtues which a person ought to cultivate. Actions alone are insufficient to determine morality, because they deal with only a small part of a greater whole. Rather, to the virtue ethicist, to possess these virtues is to be moral; to lack them is to be immoral. One way of looking at it is a reversal of the famous line from the film Batman Begins: "It's not what you do, but who you are underneath that defines you."

     Finally, Ron is advocating something that's called consequentialism. This is the idea that at the end of the day, being ethical is less about principles and more about results. The most popular position within consequentialism is something called utilitarianism, which is a view popularized by English philosopher Jeremy Bentham. Bentham developed something called the Greatest Happiness Principle - the idea that the most ethical thing we can do is whatever brings the greatest amount of happiness to the greatest amount of people. Of course, later philosophers (most notably John Stuart Mill) would go on to give more nuance to this idea, helping to define exactly what we mean by happiness. So, to the utilitarian, the action itself isn't all that important, nor is the person doing the action - if that action brings more happiness to more people than other possible actions, it is therefore the most ethical action.


     So, to take the lying example used above, as a deontologist, Hermione sees lying as against the standard of ethical behaviour, and as a result, to her lying is categorically immoral - even if something good comes out of it. Ginny feels that the fact that someone has lied simply isn't enough information to determine whether a person is ethical or not. The entirety of the person must be understood in order to make an assessment there - we need to know their motives and intentions. Ron feels that as lying is not an action that will, in the long term, bring about happiness, lying is immoral - but also that there could be extenuating circumstances where lying could bring about more happiness than any other possible action, and that in such a case, lying would be moral. This differs from Ginny in the sense that to Ron, if lying brings the most happiness, then the person lying is moral even if they are doing it for malicious reasons; similarly, if lying does not bring about the most happiness, then the person lying is immoral even if they are doing it for selfless reasons.

     Hopefully this whole thing might prompt you to think and read a bit more about this whole ethics thing, and what it means.

Christian Corner

     Just a side note to those who are Christians - there is a tendency within Christianity to think that this sort of thing is a waste of time. Ask yourself, though, from a Christian perspective, what does it mean to be moral? Does it mean to act according to the standard God has laid out? Does it mean to become more Christlike? Or does it mean to act in whichever way brings about the Kingdom of Heaven? All three, certainly, but in what balance? When two of them seem contradictory or at odds, how is that resolved? On which side should we err? I would encourage my fellow Christians to not fall into the pit of thinking we know everything, but instead realizing that our faith doesn't do away with these questions, nor was it intended to. It merely casts them in a different light, giving a different focus.

Identifying Spiritual Abuse

     Spiritual abuse is a big deal. It is unfortunately common, potentially devastating, and often unnoticed. At best, it is a source of pain and alienation for many, religious or otherwise. Left unchecked, it can become the foundation of a manipulative and controlling organization that can sprout into a full-fledged cult. It is also an issue that, in my estimation, is only becoming more prevalent. This is an issue that is close to my heart because not only do I have a passion for ensuring that other people are not hurt in this way, as a pastor I also have a hefty obligation to make sure that I do not end up falling into it myself.

     But what is it?

     Defining spiritual abuse has always been a bit tricky because it's a bit of a nebulous concept. Fundamentally, I would term it as the use of spiritual or religious authority, real or otherwise, to intentionally or unintentionally coerce or manipulate others into obedience. While this does not include physical or sexual abuse, which are separate (albeit usually more important) issues, it is often used to defend these acts, or to deflect the fallout from them. It is also often used by an individual or group to consolidate power, to repress threatening elements, or to reform an entity in their image. Sometimes it is the product of good intentions - a pastor who is convinced that their vision for the church is what will best serve and help others and so will stop at nothing to implement it, or a teacher who is genuinely frightened that a particular doctrine or concept will corrupt people's minds and lead to evil - but the results are almost always the same: Hurt, brokenness, alienation, suffering, indoctrination, and more.

     So how do we spot it? Well, here are a few warning signs that a ministry may be spiritually abusive. If the ministry you're a part of meets even one of the below criteria, you may want to seriously consider leaving (Please note that the following is mostly a summary of what has been written by other, better thinkers, which I am presenting in the hopes of providing something that can be read and understood in fifteen minutes).

     1. The ministry is insular.

     Any organization or group is, by definition, exclusive. A group that includes absolutely everyone is just called "the human race." Additionally, any organization or group is going to feel that the values they have rallied around are the truth, even if that value is that we need to rethink what truth is. So, in moderation, exclusivity in and of itself is not bad - in fact, without it, we wouldn't be able to function as a society. Insularity goes a bit beyond being exclusive, though. A ministry that is insular doesn't just believe that what they teach is the truth, they believe that what they teach is the truth by definition because they are the ones teaching it. An insular ministry does its very best to silence outside voices and to ensure that its leaders are the only ones who can hold influence over its members. If you can look around your church and say that they are regularly trying to prevent or discourage you from learning about perspectives that they disagree with, you might be in a spiritually abusive ministry (if your church is encouraging you to sever contact with anyone who is not a part of that church, then you are definitely in a spiritually abusive ministry and need to get out immediately).

     2. The ministry does not tolerate questions.

     I always think it's sad and a little funny when Christians complain about how angry some atheists are. Some Christians will even go so far as to say that this is evidence that God exists, because if there is no God, then what are atheists angry at? Well, potentially a variety of things, but often the answer is because they grew up in a church where they were demonized and ostracized just for voicing the questions that were on their mind. A fear of or disdain for questions is another characteristic of an abusive ministry. Abusive ministries will often see questions as an attack on their authority, and therefore the person asking the question as rebellious. This can apply both to the beliefs and practices of the church - whether you are expressing skepticism over a particular doctrine or pointing out potential flaws or pitfalls in the church vision, abusive leadership will see them both as threats. If you can look around your church and see people being rebuked, reprimanded, or ostracized for asking questions, if you are being told that the pastor or leadership speaks on behalf of God, and/or if you are being expected to submit to them absolutely, you might be in a spiritually abusive ministry.

     (It's worth noting that there's some give and take, here. There's a difference between a leader being upset over you questioning them, and a leader being upset over you questioning them in a way that is malicious, obnoxious, or contextually inappropriate. Use common sense. If your pastor doesn't mind having their theology challenged but is upset that you interrupted someone else's wedding to do so, you might not be in a spiritually abusive ministry. Also, you might be a jerk).

     3. The ministry uses shame and fear as tools.

     If you've ever wondered why people would stay in spiritually abusive churches, this is often the reason. People are told that if they do not go along with what the leadership teaches or asks, they are holding the church back, or they are bad Christians, or they aren't Christians at all. People are told that if they leave the church, they are walking away from the truth, they will be led astray by the lies of other churches, they are turning their back on God and He will punish them for it. The ministry is made out to be unconditionally in line with God, and to oppose it is to oppose Him and invite His wrath. Of course, this can take on far more subtle tones, too. Consider the statement "If you have sex before marriage, you will forever be tarnishing your relationship with your spouse and with God." This is a problem, not only due to theological considerations, but also because rather than presenting a cogent argument on why sex should be saved for marriage, it simply attempts to use fear to manipulate people into agreeing. If the leadership does not tell you why they disagree with your words or actions but instead threaten you with the wrath of God or promises of dire consequences to come, if they label people or perspectives they dislike as Satanic or demonic, or if they equate your dedication to them (or lack thereof) with your dedication to God, you might be in a spiritually abusive ministry.

     4. The ministry depends on one person.

     This one may not always be a sign of spiritual abuse, but it should always be a massive red flag. At the very least, it creates the ideal atmosphere for spiritual abuse to emerge. This is also something that is becoming increasingly problematic as the internet means that big personalities become even larger, and people who used to preach to thousands are now preaching to millions across the globe. While there is nothing wrong with having a leader who is famous or simply charismatic, massive problems creep in when the ministry becomes built around them. The ministry will, intentionally or unintentionally, begin linking everything in with this leader until eventually virtually everything revolves around them. All of a sudden this leader has accumulated a massive amount of power, giving them a near-dictatorial reign over the church. Not helping the matter is the fact that, as stated above in #2, people who question this leader will be slowly (or not-so-slowly) phased out of the leadership in order to accommodate the new rising star. I am reminded of one famous pastor who, when confronted because of his corrupt financial practices, told his elders that they could not get rid of him because he was the reason why the church was so successful in the first place, and that if he left, the church would collapse around them and they'd have nothing anyway. If your church hinges around one person (and that one person isn't Christ, because I know someone out there would think "What if it's Jesus?" is a clever response), you might be in a personality cult - and those are hotbeds of spiritual abuse.

     Again, something that I cannot stress enough is that it is entirely possible that spiritual abuse is carried out with benevolent intentions. Someone might use scare tactics to control you because they are genuinely frightened and they don't want to see those fears come to fruition. Someone might honestly believe that what they believe is the truth and nothing but, and as a result questioning them is undermining the truth, and therefore misleading other people. A church might be insular simply because it isn't aware of other perspectives. But the fact of the matter is, abuse is abuse, and the motivation behind it doesn't change that for a second.

     It is my hope that these guidelines (which, as mentioned, are really just summaries of principles articulated by others) will help people to avoid and counteract spiritually abusive ministries, and will help church leaders purge their own practices of these habits.

     One final question: If you find yourself in a spiritually abusive ministry, should you get out of there, or should you stay and try to improve things? I wish there was an easy answer for this one. Unfortunately, that's a decision only you can make. It's going to depend on to what extent the church is abusive (e.g. getting upset at you for questioning the church vision vs. calling you a tool of Satan and removing you from leadership for questioning the church vision), as well as to what extent you personally are affected by the abuse.

Why the Words "Slippery Slope" Should Never Leave Your Mouth Again

When, way back in 2013, the American federal government legalized gay marriage, I breathed a silent prayer that this might end all the crazy talk about slippery slopes. Unfortunately, it didn't - and shame on me for not knowing better. The only change is that instead of people talking about all the assorted debauchery gay marriage could inevitably lead to, they've begun talking about all the assorted debauchery gay marriage will inevitably lead to.

This is terrible argumentation. There is absolutely no reason to ever appeal to the slippery slope. It is unconvincing, ineffective, and to be frank, more than a little dishonest. The slippery slope isn't just the province of crusty old conservatives, however (though they do seem to be trying their best to stake the strongest claim on it). You might hear someone complaining about how if the government censors certain content, it's a done deal that they will begin censoring everything else until we're in a Ray Bradbury novel, or that if we allow a certain voice prominence, it is a done deal that they will end up running our society. It is, unfortunately, a concept that rears its hideous, tortured head in all walks of life, regardless of politics, religion, nationality, or (most unfortunately) education.

So what is it?

The "slippery slope" is primarily the idea of trying to take two distinct concepts and present them as being inextricably linked. If one happens, then it is inevitable that the other will happen as well, it's only a matter of time. If we tolerate homosexuality, then it is inevitable that we will one day tolerate pedophilia. If you accept Marxism, then it is only a matter of time until you embrace Leninism. If we allow religious displays in our government buildings, it is a foregone conclusion that we will become a theocratic state. The general idea is that taking even one step down the slope will lead to you losing your footing and sliding down all the way to the bottom without any way to get back up, regardless of your intentions.

So why is it bad?

1. It is fortune-telling.

One of the biggest issues with the slippery slope is that it is impossible to prove. It is one hundred percent conjecture. You are not presenting a logical or coherent argument, you are predicting the future. The slippery slope is rarely presented alongside evidence, and even when it is, it is nearly impossible for that evidence to be conclusive. In other words, the slippery slope argument rarely amounts to anything more than a gut feeling. Even if the prediction ends up being true, it is still an entirely unhelpful argument because, again, you cannot satisfactorily establish causality.

2. It is a false dichotomy.

The slippery slope is what we call a "continuum fallacy." The idea here is that you're taking two concepts and saying that it's either one or the other, and ignoring the possibility that there could be some middle ground. To take the examples above, the slippery slope states that it is impossible for someone to accept homosexuality but reject pedophilia or to accept Marxism but reject Leninism. More nuanced forms of the slippery slope (and I use the term "nuanced" liberally) might suggest that it is possible, but logically inconsistent. This is simply false. I haven't got the space to go into why here, but suffice it to say that most issues are not all-or-nothing. It is, in actual fact, quite possible to go partway down the slope, put your foot down, and stay there without going any further. Ideas aren't a package deal. Everything can and must be evaluated independently, on its own merits.

3. It is fear-mongering.

Plain and simple. The slippery slope is not an appeal to logic. It is not an appeal to reason. It is an appeal to emotion. It says: "X is bad, and you don't want X to happen, do you? Well then you can't support Y, because Y will lead to X!" Rational creatures would look at that and say "Well, how do you know that Y will lead to X?" but no matter what we like to think of ourselves, we as humans are not purely rational creatures and so we might initially react with "What? X? Hang on, I don't want X to happen! Well we'd better stop Y, then!" Practice with critical thinking can help mitigate this, but I don't believe that anyone is ever truly free of it. If you want to rile up a crowd or get some strong reactions, the slippery slope is a great tool. But if you want to communicate in a way that is thought-provoking, logical, and charitable - avoid at all costs.

4. It is historically ignorant.

Very few issues are recent, and even if they've taken on a new shape or focus in the past few decades, it is likely that the topic has been raised at some point in the past in one form or another. This means that in almost any given topic, if the slippery slope does exist, we're likely already on it. If we're already on the slope, then this means that either we are already sliding inexorably towards the bottom, in which case there's nothing we can do about it, or it's possible for us to stop partway down and start to go back up, in which case the slippery slope becomes self-refuting because it's not actually slippery at all. Either way, declaring something to be a slippery slope seems to be a pointless endeavour.

A Note About Logical Fallacies.

Perhaps the single most important thing to remember about logical fallacies is that just because an argument is fallacious doesn't necessarily mean it's wrong. Cause and effect (probably) exists, and concepts and events do lead in to one another. It is, for example, entirely possible that someone will begin reading Marx and as a direct result of reading Marx will begin to read Lenin and embrace Lenin's ideology. Another example is that it is a ridiculous argument to say "It is a slippery slope from political assassination in the Balkans to Germans and British using flesh-eating gas on one another" and yet the former event definitively led to the latter happening. See, the point of this post isn't to say that everything is separate and nothing is linked, but rather to say that just because a link can be drawn between two things doesn't mean that it should, and to provide a reminder that ideas must be evaluated on their own merits.

Also, logical fallacies exist to help us sharpen our logical skills, clarify our thoughts, identify pitfalls, and communicate effectively. A pet peeve of mine is when logical fallacies are reduced to mere points in a verbal fencing match. Pointing out a logical fallacy someone has committed is rarely the same as refuting their point. If your primary concern is to point out the logical flaws in the arguments of others, rather than to listen to and consider what they have to say, then you have missed the entire purpose of arguing in the first place. Pointing out tangential fallacies (that is to say, fallacies that are made in passing or that are irrelevant to the argument the person is trying to make) is almost always bad form and usually only serves to make you seem extraordinarily petty.

A Note to Christians.

I confess that I've got a particular agenda in writing this post, and it's got nothing to do with gay marriage or Marxism or whichever other examples I happened to use above. This is actually a part of a loosely-connected series of posts I'm doing to address what I believe to be one of the biggest problems in evangelical Christianity today: Gatekeeping. Evangelical gatekeepers attempt to keep their flocks "pure" by ensuring that only certain ideas and teachings are allowed in or out. Personally I find this sort of heavy regulation to be incredibly detrimental to honest pursuit of God and faith, but that's a conversation for another time. The slippery slope is, in my experience, a favourite tactic of gatekeepers when they cannot (generally due to political reasons) dismiss something outright as heresy. A person, book, sermon, concept, or organization that they dislike might be described as not necessarily wrong, but something that places people on the path to things that are wrong. The problem with this, of course, is threefold: First, the understanding of "wrong" or "bad" theology hinges upon the gatekeeper's definition - hardly an authoritative source; second, it makes the untenable assumption that accepting one will lead to accepting the other; third, it is an attempt to use fear to ensure that their beliefs are upheld. Examples of this might be New Calvinist organizations today who link gender roles with the Gospel and say that egalitarian gender roles are the first step on a slippery slope to undermining the core of the Christian faith, or groups within the Southern Baptists who feel that embracing Calvinism will inevitably lead to apathy in missions. Perhaps the most well-known example is groups like Answers in Genesis, who assert that denying a literal six-day creation necessarily leads to denying all of Christianity.

So if you are a Christian, and especially if you are a Christian leader, my plea to you today is this: If you disagree with a doctrine or teaching, then do so on its own basis. Please do not base your arguments on where the doctrine could potentially lead. That is intellectually dishonest, it is fear-mongering, and it is categorically harmful to honest discussion. Guys. I'm not saying you have to agree with or tolerate every opinion out there. I'm not even saying you need to be respectful of everyone - I mean, it'd be nice, but I know how hard that can be. All I'm saying is, please, enough with the drama. Hearing about how every little doctrinal difference is getting blown out of proportion to be an attack on the Gospel is exhausting. Enough is enough.

The Pagan Roots of Christmas, Part One: December 25th

Every year, at around this time, there is no small amount of commotion raised about the origins of Christmas. Especially in the United States, where there is much ado about the purported "War on Christmas," verbal battles are fought viciously over the meaning and history of Christmas. In particular, Christmas is often criticized because it's not really a Christian holiday at all, rather an amalgam of pagan practices that, throughout the centuries, have been grafted into Christian tradition. Truth be told, I find it a little confusing that this has become such a contentious issue - as far as I am aware, the church (by and large) has never denied these pagan roots to the holiday, and as a result it is not an argument so much as it is a statement of fact, and it is not a condemnation so much as it is the recitation of historical events. Nonetheless, this does beg the question: If Christmas draws so heartily from the waters of heathens, what are Christians really celebrating at this time of year? In response, one must note that these integrated rituals are neither the result of some sort of mysterious conspiracy nor an unusual coincidence, but rather were intentionally adopted by the Christians of the time, and by examining them we are able to better understand the history of the holiday and thereby discover the richness and power of the symbols associated with it.


It is almost impossible to be a Christian at this time of year without hearing about the fact that Jesus probably wasn't born on or even anywhere near December 25th, and that Christmas was just a pagan winter festival that was absorbed into Christianity. This, by the way, is completely true. While some have hypothesized that Jesus was born in the early springtime, in reality we have absolutely no idea. The Biblical account does not see fit to share it, and what clues it does provide are inconclusive at best. It is fair, then, to say that Christmas is, at least to an extent, "borrowed" from the Roman religion. However, this was far from an arbitrary decision. It has been argued that this was done to make Christianity more accessible to many Romans at the time (they wouldn't need to abandon their festivals, merely change the focus), and while I don't disagree with that statement, it's not the focus that I want to take.

December 25th was, in the Julian calendar, the Winter Solstice, hence its prominence in ancient Roman religion. Early Christians selected this date for Christmas because of the inherent symbolism: The Winter Solstice is the shortest day of the year. Every day after the Solstice, days become longer and longer, until the Summer Solstice, the longest day of the year. In other words, Christmas is the celebration of the triumph of light and the receding of darkness. December 25th symbolizes the core of Christianity: A God who loved the world to the point that He came down as a human, and that this event - called the incarnation - represents the end of sin and darkness' reign over the earth. From the moment Christ was born, the proverbial days have been getting longer, and the nights shorter. Hope is stirring.

This is a part of the reason why December 25th was chosen as the day to celebrate Christ. As a result, when we as Christians begin to ponder the question "Why do we celebrate Christmas on December 25th instead of something closer to when we think Christ was actually born?" an answer is that it's a reminder. It pushes us to take a step back and reflect on what Christmas means to the Christian: The arrival of hope and the ultimate triumph of light over darkness, grace over sin, and love over hatred. Though the night persists, and we falter, we rejoice in its inevitable demise, and the promise of Christ's return.


(As an aside, the Summer Solstice, the longest day of the year, is the Feast of St. John, or the celebration of John the Baptist. Just as how John the Baptist heralded the coming of Christ, so too does the Summer Solstice herald the coming of eternal light).


"And there will no longer be any night; and they will not have need of the light of a lamp nor the light of the sun, because the Lord God will illumine them; and they will reign forever and ever." - Revelation 22:5