Christian Piatt Blog

A few belated reflections on Father’s Day

I should note in advance of any comments to follow that I generally resent so-called “Hallmark holidays,” including the ones intended to honor the likes of me. Feeling guilted into buying cards and presents because everyone else is smacks of capitalistic opportunism run amok.

What, you didn’t get me anything? After all, it is Arbor Day. Not a sapling, a package of seeds, nothing?

Enough already.

Now that I have that out of the way, I’ll get back to my point.

Father’s Day has become a particularly complex holiday for me recently. The most positive connotations came a few years ago when my son, Mattias, introduced me to what exactly it means to be someone’s dad. I am constantly reinvented by this amazing new life in our midst, learning as much about myself as I am about him.

To be someone’s dad is both an inexpressible privilege and a skull-crushing responsibility. We joke that the college fund can double as a subsidy for therapy in the event that we screw him up during childhood. Always nice to have a backup plan.

On the other side of the parent-child paradigm, there’s my dad and I. We haven’t spoken in more than a year, which is, of course, punctuated by such gloriously contrived holidays as Father’s Day.

Is the sarcasm communicating in print?

The details as to why he and I have not spoken are of secondary importance. This is partly because we each have our own realities to which we cling, and to present only my own interpretation of truth is still a subjectively filtered version of what really happened anyway. Also, regardless of what reality truly is, if there’s such a thing somewhere out there, the result is the same: I haven’t spoken to my dad – or he hasn’t spoken to me – since before Easter of 2006.

There’s nothing like a holiday to help remind you of what you don’t have. If you’re prone to self-pity, holidays can be downright depressing. However, while I’ve struggled to reconcile what family really ends up looking like versus what I carry on the postcards in my mind, a new community has emerged around me.

There’s my “family of choice,” meaning the ones I have more or less chosen by way of marriage and deciding to become a parent. There are the in-laws, often maligned in popular culture, but in this case, a true blessing to me, my son and many others, I’m sure.

Finally, there’s the family that comes with a healthy, vibrant, loving church. This Father’s Day was made even more salient when my wife, Amy, left that very afternoon to serve as a counselor at a junior church camp north of Colorado Springs. It’s hard to share your loved ones as much as you must when your spouse is employed by a church, but if you’re lucky, you get back at least as much in kind as you give up.

I’ve had four invitations to spend time with families and friends from our church this week, keeping me not only from having to cook, but also from having to bear the full burden of parenting a toddler by myself. Sure, I know everyone at our church loves Pastor Amy, but it’s comforting to feel welcome and loved, even in her absence.

In reflecting on the varied emotions I experienced on Father’s Day, I decided that I had two choices. On the one hand, I could sit around and feel sorry for myself because my family of birth is not as close, both physically and emotionally in some ways, as my family by marriage and in the church. On the other hand, I can stop belly-aching about what I lack and live in gratitude for the abundance I find right in front of me.

My family, however you want to define it, is not perfect, and it’s not what Hallmark says it should look like. But, so what? It’s mine, and I shudder to think where I’d be without it.

Just a quick note to let you know that I have posted the introduction and first chapter from my new book, MySpace to Sacred Space: God for a New Generation, for free download on my website. Just go to www.christianpiatt.com, click on the FREE Downloads page, click the link for the file and it should open right up. If you have any problems, please let me know.

This new book, co-authored with my wife, Amy Piatt, is a look into the spiritual, social and emotional lives of today’s young adults. For this book, we surveyed more than 750 young adults online, and we sent video cameras all over the country to allow people to share their stories about faith. Included are individuals, couples, people actively involved in church, agnostics, and even people involved in recovery for severe drug addiction. The stories and results were amazing. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed putting it all together.

Pre-sales for the book have been pretty good, and it went to the printer last week. Though Amazon still lists the release date as the end of July, it should actually ship in the next couple of weeks. It’s now on sale at the Chalice Press website or on Amazon.  Again, see my website for direct links to those sites if you want to order a copy now.  You may also order it from any bookstore.

Thanks, and please pass this on to anyone else who might be interested.

Peace,
Christian

The relativity of ‘Sopranos’ and ‘Big Love’

This was a big week for television viewers.

On Sunday, the final episode of HBO’s New Jersey mob tale, “The Sopranos,” aired, followed by the new season premiere of “Big Love,” another HBO show – this one about a group of fundamentalist Mormons living in a plural marriage in suburban Utah.

The sixth and final season ended creatively but controversially, with the Soprano family gathered at a local diner as imminent threats on their lives swim all around them.

For some, it was a frustratingly uneventful conclusion to a masterful series. But the screen cutting to black while loose ends linger speaks exactly to what the life of a Jersey mobster is like: Sleep with one eye open, and trust no one.

Several major scenarios played out, with Bobby, Anthony’s brother-in-law, getting whacked, as well as Sil, his “No. 1.” Revenge is exacted upon New York boss Phil Leotardo, and in a round-table meetings of the two families, a reasonable price for the transgression of Bobby’s death is worked out.

From there, it’s business as usual, at least until it’s necessary for the next Wise Guy to take a dirt nap.

Throughout the final episode, a piece of Scripture from Matthew 6 resonated through my head. Matthew says, “where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” The essence is the idea that we cannot “serve two masters.” If money, sex, drugs, work or anything else is our God, there’s little room for anything else.

The creators of “The Sopranos” were masters of revealing truth without beating you about the head and shoulders. You find yourself wondering why this group of thugs would risk their lives, and those of everyone they love, for fancy espresso machines, new cars and terribly tacky suits.

But how are we any different? How much of our own time, energy and souls do we sink into shiny trinkets that we try to substitute for love, fulfillment and peace?

We mortgage, justify and compromise our lives away one bit at a time. Few, if any, of us are at risk of getting rubbed out at work on Monday, but if we invest ourselves in that which doesn’t really give back, ours is a slower, subtler but equally imminent death.

Equally fascinating is the curious code of conduct that governs the Mafia networks, all of which forever verge on anarchy. There is a protocol to follow when whacking a “made” man, as well as how much certain lives are worth, depending on their rank. For a group of sociopathic, thieving, mass-murdering thugs, they have a strong allegiance to what they consider honor.

A similar code of honor is observed in “Big Love,” as indicated particularly by one scene this week. Roman Grant, the vile leader of the creepy polygamist compound in the outskirts of Utah, shakes his head as a fellow polygamist, a man accused of statutory rape, is featured in a manhunt story on television.

“Just watch,” he says, “his transgressions will ruin it for the rest of us.” Meanwhile Roman, a man teetering on 70, is planning to be “sealed” to a young teenage girl in the compound. She will be his newest wife.

I’ve come to realize that the words “at least” are some of the most damaging in our vocabulary. We all have our skeletons lurking in the closet, but we never fail to find someone else who is worse off, saying with a sigh of relief, “at least I’m not that bad.”

The relativity of the values that guide our lives often are only as strict as is necessary to allow us to keep doing what we really want. The irony is that, when we decide without God’s wisdom what’s best, we are sure to miss the mark.

We may not get whacked, and we may not go to jail, but if we sense a curiously heart-sized vacancy inside, a good place to look for it is where we spend most of our time and energy. We’re sure to find it there.

Hearing a still, small voice: Yours or God’s?

A historic set of events has taken place this week.

For the first time, candidates from the Democrat and Republican parties have been invited to participate in televised forums about matters of faith.

I was pleased, not only that the forums took place, but also that female religious leaders were included in the conversation. On a personal note, I was especially excited to see Sharon Watkins, the general minister and president of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), our denomination, representing us as one of the panel members.

Because each candidate only was allowed 15 minutes to speak, and because politicians have an innate tendency to over-long answers, most panelists had the chance to ask only one question during the hour. Watkins, participating in the Democrat forum, posed a question to Sen. John Edwards that caused him – and the rest of the audience – to pause, laugh and really think about her words.

“As a person of faith,” she asked (and I’m paraphrasing), “how do you pray, for what do you pray, and, when you listen in prayer, how do you discern the difference between God’s voice and your own, mistaken as God’s?”

Edwards answered as candidly and as well off-the-cuff as could be expected. “Most important,” he said (and again I’m paraphrasing from memory), “I ask for God’s will in my life rather than my own, and those two things are in conflict with one another on a fairly regular basis.”

I admit that I’ve not been a personal champion of Edwards’ candidacy, but of all the participants, he certainly was the most personal, the most candid, and the most relatable.

Listening prayerfully is hard enough sometimes. It’s far too easy to fall into “output” mode, beginning and ending with our own monologue to God, cutting off our prayer time before we’ve ever taken time to sit quietly, listening for answers.

But how do we know when it’s really God? Sitting in silence, it’s so easy to have random thoughts, images and even voices run through our imagination. When a particularly desirable thought pops up, there’s not much to keep us from saying, “Yep, that’s God all right, telling me exactly what I wanted to hear.”

Do we sit around, waiting for tongues of fire, burning bushes, visions or booming voices from the clouds? Do we test God by demanding outward signs, hemming God in, setting the parameters within which we will allow our communication with God to take place?

Part of the problem can be the overwhelming static of daily life. We get so used to the endless stream of white noise that we often don’t know what to do with silence. If God’s voice indeed is still and small, do we ask God to crank it up a notch, or do we start by actively seeking quiet time and space?

In considering this question, I think back to a joke I heard once about a man who was drowning in the ocean, and he called out to God to save him. Soon, a boat comes by and throws him a line, but he refuses help, insisting that God will save him. Another boat happens by, and again he rebuffs their efforts to rescue him.

Finally, the man drowns, and as he stands before God in heaven, he’s ticked. “Why didn’t you save me?” he asks. “I prayed for your deliverance and you let me die!”

“Geez, what do you want from me?” says God. “After all, I sent you two boats.”

Looking for answers from God? Listen to those people of faith around you. Read Scripture. Learn to spend time in silence, and just as Jesus – and in this case, John Edwards – did, don’t forget those resonant words from the Garden of Gethsemane:

“Not my will, but yours be done.”

Fallen icons provide no cause for celebration

There’s a curious part of human nature that celebrates the struggle of the underdog, cheering on the little guy against all odds.

Then, when said underdog overcomes adversity and rises to the top ranks of its field, we find an equal amount of pleasure in tearing it back down.

Organized religion lost one of its pre-eminent conservative icons recently with the unexpected death of Jerry Falwell. Though he was felled by a heart condition rather than by scandal, it has done little to stem the tide of negative press that has followed his passing.

Not long ago, New Life Church’s founder Ted Haggard was waist-deep in a media firestorm about his sexual indiscretions and dalliances with illicit drugs. Before him, religious giants such as Jim Bakker, Jimmy Swaggart and Robert Tilton were dishonored.

This attack-dog dynamic hardly is limited to members of the religious community. Political figures on both sides of the aisle regularly endure criticisms of everything from their policy positions to their intelligence (see George Bush), grooming habits (see John Edwards) and family heritage (see Barack Obama).

Whether you like Sen. Hillary Clinton or not, it’s disrespectful of the office itself, let alone the human being, to suggest simply because she is a strong woman that she must therefore be a closet lesbian. It’s much easier – not to mention a guilty pleasure – to assassinate character than to address the more complex, abstract ideas that lie beneath.

Celebrities are possibly the biggest targets in this arena. I’m the first to admit that I can’t stand Britney Spears’ music, but the degree to which she has been scrutinized is appalling. There’s not a square inch of her body that has not been exposed to millions, and she’s been the punchline of thousands of jokes. Meanwhile, a clearly troubled young woman struggles with divorce, body image and possibly addiction, while we celebrate her downfall.

Sure, go ahead and argue that she brings it all on herself. If you think this way, put your own life under the magnifying glass of the press 24 hours a day, then see if you don’t develop a little empathy.

Far be it from me to suggest that we should look the other way when someone acts – or even speaks – in an egregious manner. On the contrary, it is our responsibility to raise issues of accountability within our ranks, particularly among our leaders. After all, with great power comes great responsibility.

However, the degree to which we revel in grave-dancing speaks poorly about our own character. Passionate debate about ideas and principles is just as important as holding those in positions of influence liable for their behavior. But personal attacks, particularly after someone has suffered humiliation, emotional trauma, loss of power or even death, simply flies in the face of our call to peace, compassion and forgiveness.

We should not look the other way when scandals surface. However, there is a clear difference between critical prudence and acting in a predatory manner. Such attitudes reveal more about our own dark secrets than they do any nonexistent moral superiority we may claim to have.

The challenge: Work, regardless of the fruits

The Bhagavad Gita is a sacred text in the Hindu religion, particularly for those who are devoted to the god Krishna.

There are many parallels, both theologically and philosophically, with Christian, Jewish and Muslim texts, such as the immortality of the soul, differences between the physical and spiritual worlds, and a call to prayerful action to enable global harmony.

“Bhagavad Gita” is Sanskrit for “Song of God,” and is part of a greater Hindu epic. The story follows prince Arjuna into a battlefield, where he is dealing with a profound moral dilemma about the conflict. As he nears the battleground, he comes to the realization that those on the other side of enemy lines are his own relatives, friends and teachers, miring him further in a moral quandary.

Krishna, the driver of his chariot, gives Arjuna advice about his plight, and in the process, reveals himself as a god. Krishna proclaims the battle to come as Dharma Yuddha, which means that the war is justified for the greater sake of justice.

Regardless of the reader’s personal position about the concept of “just war,” there is an essential truth here: Sometimes we’re called to difficult work, the result of which is less than satisfying. But the call is to do what is right, not what is most beneficial to ourselves.

There is a quote from the Gita that summarizes this responsibility: “No matter what conditions you encounter in life, your right is only to the works – not to the fruits thereof. You should not be impelled to act for selfish reasons, nor should you be attached to inaction.”

How many of us would be willing to accept a job without first understanding the pay, benefits, hours, potential for mobility and so on? Before investing so much of ourselves, we want to know what’s in it for us. One of the most counterintuitive things about our respective calls to ministry, however, is that we’re called to the works, regardless of the fruits thereof.

I can already envision the letters, claiming that the fruits are those of salvation and of eternal life. Depending on your own take on faith versus works, this may jive, or it may not. But if the motivation of your actions as a person of faith is only the fruits, you’re not really doing ministry. Instead, you’re doing a job for what you perceive as reasonable compensation.

Imagine the job description for Jesus’ call to ministry: “Upper management seeks worker who can do it all. Skills in teaching, ministry, healing and strong interpersonal skills a must. Job involves 100 percent travel, no pay and no long-term security. Vacation time includes 40 days with no food in the desert, sharing a room with the Prince of Darkness.

“You will begin with 12 people working directly under you, but ultimately, you must be able to finish the job on your own. Must be able to do heavy lifting, endure ridicule, abandonment and, ultimately, death.”

Any takers? Didn’t think so.

Though we’re not called as people of faith to exactly the same path as Jesus, we are called to a sacrificial, challenging and not necessarily easy life. If we approach our calling by asking, “What are the benefits?” we’re already missing the point.

Does this mean we have to suffer in order to know we’re really fulfilling our call? Not really. The very first tenet of the Buddhist faith is, “Life is suffering.” This isn’t a way of glorifying the inevitable hardship we will endure, but rather an urge to recognize, and finally accept, that suffering will be a part of our walk.

In the end, what our work as people of compassion and faith is about is self-evident. We love for the sake of love itself, even if we’re not loved in return. We give for the sake of generosity, even if we are taken advantage of. We avail ourselves to a world that needs our gifts, even if they are not appreciated in the ways we think they should be.

The work is hard, the pay sucks and the hours are 24/7. Are you ready?

Isn’t it time for church to embrace diversity?

We are witnessing a popular divide within the greater church. As ministry begins to reflect the pluralism of the American culture, impasses arise with respect to traditional values, morals and guidelines about who may and may not serve as leaders.

While in some cases we have moved assertively toward a more diverse body of church leadership, there are others who resist such change.

Gender issues still pose a major point of potential division. The Southern Baptist Convention still claims that women should not be allowed to preach or lead churches. In January 2007, Dr. Sheri Klouda, a tenure-track professor of theology at Southwest Theological Seminary since 2002, was fired because she was a woman.

These differing positions do not come without a price. In a recent interview, Bishop of Rochester, England, Michael Nazir-Ali, said, “Nobody wants a split (in the church), but if you think you have virtually two religions in a single church, something has got to give sometime.”

In a post-denominational world which divides more along lines of ideology and orthodoxy rather than church affiliation, it is difficult to imagine a church that will do anything but grow further apart.

If we maintain traditional standards upon which the historical church was built, we risk cultural alienation, a lingering sense of oppressiveness and further cultural irrelevance. If we press forward toward a vision of church within which gender, ethnicity and sexual orientation are not criteria for ministry, we risk divisions that may never be mended.

We tend to assume that we know about people’s beliefs based on their church allegiance, but that’s harder to do these days. Evidence of ideological ties being stronger than denominational affiliation is no more evident than among today’s young adults.

In a January 2007 report titled “How Young People View Their Lives, Futures and Politics: A Portrait of ‘Generation Next,’ ” the Pew Research Center notes not only that today’s young adults are increasingly liberal in their social and political views, but that the trend becomes only more pronounced the younger people are.

More young adults attend evangelical churches than any other age group, but these liberal social trends are consistent even among them. Those who seek to bolster their own position with numbers find it increasingly difficult to rely on membership as an indicator of the strength of their own constituency. This tells us that people will believe what they choose to believe, regardless of what we tell them to think.

Despite how one feels about sexuality with respect to scripture, it’s in our best interest as Christians to deal with this in a matter-of-fact way. For some, it’s a moral wedge issue. For others, it’s a call to justice and equality. The idea that both sides will take the time to discourse about their beliefs – and even their differences – is critical to our sustainability as a cohesive body of faith.

Mary Lou Makepeace, executive director of the Gay and Lesbian Fund for Colorado, believes that churches must be actively engaged in the discussions about these issues, not just as they relate to the church, but in the context of society as a whole. “The ministry is on the front lines addressing this issue with families and individuals on a daily basis,” says Makepeace, “but may be lacking the tools to comfortably have a discussion.”

Our young adults lack a sense of hope for their own peer group. There is a crisis of belonging, strong leadership and capable mentoring to help guide them toward the hope they would seek for themselves. Simply dividing ourselves further over irreconcilable differences instills no more faith in the institutions who claim moral authority on many different grounds.

While we argue over the place of women, gays and other groups of people in the pulpit, a generation loses faith in the religious system itself. Someone may claim victory in time, but by then, there may be little left to celebrate.

It’s no surprise to anyone who attends church on a regular basis that women outnumber men in the pews in many congregations. There are many theories about the attrition of males in church, from the swell of female ministers to paradigmatic changes in the social role of religion in our lives. Regardless of the cause, the numbers don’t lie.

In response to this trend, some ministries are making a point of reaching out specifically to men. From biker ministries – not exclusive to men, mind you – to football-watching parties, the point is to meet men where they are, in all of their stereotypical, oil-stained, sports-infatuated splendor.

A few weeks ago, one of the religious wire services carried a story about a ministry taking this a step further. Not only do they meet in a gym, promote casual dress and serve pizza after the service, but they even have a “shot clock” that counts down to the end of the service. Rock music blasts before the message, and topics focus on guy stuff, whatever that means.

All of this seems benign and well-intentioned enough that it took me a while to figure out what bothered me about it.

First of all, church runs the risk of oozing desperation from every pore if, in our effort to bolster our ranks, we bend over backward to accommodate every niche group. There are enough situations already in our culture where, if we have something a company wants, they will cater to our ego or our fascination with comfort and entertainment. Church should not be employing these predatory techniques.

While we’re not in the business of flagellating each person at the door, we also should not be focused, first and foremost, on making people comfortable. Our job as leaders in the church is to set an inspiring example, to keep people stirred up enough to want to change if necessary, and to spur them to act. The truth is that a comfortable person is one who is not likely to seek out change. This is not the call of faith.

Second, any time we begin to define who can and cannot participate in a ministry, we risk compromising the essence of the gospel message of mutual dependence. If we only surround ourselves with people who make us comfortable, or who look and think like us, what’s the point? That’s not church; that’s a social club.

Jesus, Siddhartha Gautama (aka Buddha) and other prominent spiritual leaders hung out with a melange of unlikely people. To see a prostitute rubbing elbows with a tax collector would have been pretty weird in Jesus’ day, but it’s what you would have seen.

When people come to us seeking vision, inspiration and hope, we sit them down in an easy chair and put their feet up. In doing so, we confirm a secular cultural message that is viral in its prevalence today: You are the center of the universe.

Well, guess what? You’re special, but not that special. Get over yourself. Think about someone else for a change. Live with being uncomfortable if it helps you develop some compassion for how the rest of the world lives, or if it prompts you to be more aware of how much suffering there is in the world.

President John F. Kennedy was spot-on when he said, “Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country.” We as the greater church universal would do well to adopt a similar mantra for those wondering what they will find within the walls of our faith institutions.

Ask not, then, what church can do for you; instead, ask yourself what you should be doing for God and God’s creation. Then instead of looking for the church with the denominational logo on the door that you’re used to, or instead of picking the place with the hippest music or shortest commute, find the place that’s really going to help you be a better person.

You only get one chance at life. You can spend it obsessing about getting every one of your own infinite needs met, or you can step outside your own skin and help make this world a better place. That’s what a good church should help you do.

Taoist Philosopher Lao-tzu once wrote that weapons are instruments of misfortune, and that those who are violent do not die naturally.

The recent events at the Virginia Tech campus attest to this truth.

Cho Seung-Hui, a native of South Korea, moved to the United States at age 8 with his family. At the time of the shooting, he was a senior in the English department with a chronicled history of abnormal behavior and a particularly violent writing style.

All told, between 175 and 225 bullets were fired, killing 33 people, including Cho. All indications suggest the massacre was premeditated, and that there were some signs of his instability to those around him before he carried it out.

As experts sift through the evidence trying to understand Cho’s motive, the argument is raised once again about gun control. One side is quick to point out that permissive weapons legislation allow such troubled young people to buy devices of extreme violence everywhere from local storefronts to eBay. Proponents of the constitutional right to bear arms contend this is just such an act against which a responsible public must be allowed to protect themselves.

This event, the bloodiest in modern American history, has caused me to reflect on my own personal relationship with guns, or more accurately, that of my family.

My grandfather died of cancer when I was a teenager. He was a generally angry man who seldom afforded himself any emotional intimacy, even with his wife and children. As I grew older, I learned bits and pieces about his past, generally through others.

As a boy, my grandfather found his mother’s body in the garage of their home, after she had shot herself in the head. Neither he nor anyone else in the family ever spoke about this while he was alive, though I pieced a few things together over the years. Such an experience could help explain much about his morose disposition, and his habit of waking up to a cocktail of orange juice and vodka nearly every day.

He had the triple whammy of genetically based depression, the loss of his mother and the trauma of finding her dead. In this context, his reclusive nature and tendency to self-medicate made more sense.

Strangely, though, he maintained a disturbing connection to the incident by keeping the gun she used to kill herself. As if this was not macabre enough, he gave it to my father before his death.

Throughout my childhood, my father kept two guns in his unlocked nightstand. One was a Ruger with a fully loaded clip, and the other was an old black revolver. Though I can’t confirm its origins, since we don’t speak of it, I believe the revolver is the one used in my great-grandmother’s suicide.

I remember, on occasion, sneaking into my parents’ room to peek into the drawer at the guns. The very sight of them made my skin tingle. Once or twice I actually picked up the revolver, just to feel the weight of it in my hand. There was a morbid exhilaration, both in the power it held and the knowledge of the life it had claimed.

I have fired a gun only once, at a gun range under the supervision of my father. Both the noise and the recoil of the firearm scared the hell out of me, and I’ve never touched one since.

The most frequent argument I hear in support of owning a gun is protection against others with the capacity and means to commit acts of violence against those whom we love. Self-preservation is a natural human response. However, it is not a Christ-like response. Nor is it a response advocated by any major world religion or philosophy, including mainstream Islam.

Albert Einstein once was asked how World War III would be fought. His response was, “I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones.”

Our dependence on mechanized tools of aggression ultimately will be the instrument of our own misfortune. The prospect of mutual annihilation may help maintain a temporary peace, but like Cho and others who find solace in these means, they point to an inevitable, and unnatural, end.

A multi-year study of several abstinence-until-marriage sex education courses has found recently that the programs have no effect on the number of sex partners participants have or the age at which they first engage in sexual activity.

The same legislative body that spends more than $175 million on these programs every year ordered the study, though proponents of the approach were swift to argue reasons for the negative results. The programs in question, they say, are some of the oldest in existence, and do not reflect the more recent advances in abstinence-only education.

That having been said, there were many differences among the programs. Some were voluntary while others were mandatory. Some took place during the school day and some were after school. All programs offered what were considered to be intensive programs (more than 50 hours), and thousands of students were tracked over a seven-year period.

No statistically significant differences between those in any of the studies and members of the control group were found.

In the interest of fairness, critics of such programs have argued for years that abstinence programs actually have a negative effect, causing more children to engage in risky sex activity than if they had received no instruction. This was not found the case to be either. So at least we can say our $175 million has had no impact, at the worst.

What strikes me as most interesting about this is not that the programs didn’t work. Instead, the most compelling point is the collective surprise demonstrated by those who believed in them. For the most part, advocates were and still are generally theologically conservative folks who believe there is a moral basis for not teaching the use of contraception, or any means of risk-reduction other than abstinence, for that matter.

It seems to me that if this group was using Scripture as the basis for their position, they’d see that there were some indicators that this approach might be less than effective.

Let’s consider the Garden of Eden. God provides a paradise for his beloved humans, and gives them one caveat: Don’t eat from the Tree of Knowledge. So what do Adam and Eve do? Exactly what they are not supposed to.

Also, it’s worth pointing out that the term for sex in the Bible generally is “to know” someone. So do we really believe they were fiends for actual fruit, or is it possible that the very first morality tale has to do with sex?

Furthermore, if God batted less than a thousand keeping us in line once we were given the ability to choose our own way, what makes us think we’d be any better at it with our young folks?

Later on, King David struggles to keep his loincloth tied, and so the stories go, particularly throughout the Old Testament. Though it’s not sexually related, even Peter, the cornerstone of the Christian church, faces the weakness of his own flesh. Though confronted by Jesus himself about his denials to come, Peter says, “Come on, not me, right?”

Then, with the best of intentions, he goes and does it anyway when faced with mortal fear.

Even Paul, the fiercest defender of the faith, decries his tendency to do the very things he hates. Some role models we have! All prone to human weakness and fallibility.

Malcolm Gladwell, author of the bestselling “The Tipping Point,” discusses in his book why, though America is spending hundreds of millions on teen smoking campaigns, teen smoking is on the rise. He notes that it’s in the nature of teens to rebel and even to seek out behavior they know is risky. His answer? Do what you can to mitigate risk factors, rather than focusing on the impossible task of hoping to change teens into compliant, risk-averse mini-adults.

Plenty of folks will continue to argue that talking about condoms and other protective measures is tantamount to sexual permission. However, when you’ve spent more than a billion dollars on programs proven not to work, maybe it’s time to consider the possibility your moral compass is pointing you in the wrong direction.