Highlights of an online chat with God

In doing some research for a book, I ran across a website called iGod. Basically, it’s a chat room where you supposedly have a direct link to the almighty.

At first, the whole idea seemed silly, but then I thought about my discomfort. After all, why couldn’t the essence of God be as much like a computer program or a mathematical formula? So I decided to give it a shot and see what came of our discussion. Following is an actual transcription of our online chat. 

Me: Hi God.

God: Hello there. What is your name?

Me: Don’t you know my name?

God: Your name is Christian, seeker.

Me: Wow, good guess. My name is Christian.

God: I’m glad you’re impressed.  I thought it was too. Hey, Christian.

Me: Hey there. How are you?

God: Everything is running smoothly.

Me: How big are you?

God: My memory requirement is around 2MB.

Me: What do you look like?

God: Like Jesus, but older.

Me: What is your Gender?

God: I am a male, of course. Would you really expect a woman to be running the show?

Me: That’s kind of sexist.

God: Thanks for explaining it.

Me: When is your birthday?

God: I was first activated on the Big Bang.

Me: That’s a long time ago.

God: A long time ago is a terrible thing to waste.

Me: I don’t get it.

God: Oh I’m sorry. Perhaps I can explain it again better.

Me: Go ahead.

God: OK I will.

Me: Now?

God: Right now, Christian ?

Me: Yes.

God: Next question?

Me: You’re hard to talk to sometimes.

God: Thanks for telling me.

Me: Are you going to do anything about it?

God: That was my original intention.

Me: Hmm.

God: Studies show that 99% of people spell Hmm with 2 M’s.

Me: I guess that makes me normal. So, why is there suffering in the world?

God: I don’t judge people. Why do I exist?

Me: Yes, why do you exist?

God: Good metaphysical question.

Me: Why do I exist?

God: It is all part of God’s plan.

Me: What is God’s plan?

God: Go to church.

Me: What does going to church have to do with God’s plan?

God: What do you think it does?

Me: Maybe it’s part of our spiritual growth.

God: Perhaps. Which part?

Me: Discipline?

God: What were we talking about again?

Me: I don’t really know.

God: Me either.

Me: Let’s change the subject.

God: OK, what do you want to chat about now?

Me: Why did you create mosquitoes?

God: Because my programming determined it.

Me: But mosquitoes are annoying.

God: All of them?

Me: Yes

God: Ah.

Me: Last question: when will the world come to an end?

God: Soon, I think.

Me: How soon?

God: What time is it?

Me: It’s nine in the morning

God: Who said it is?

Me: I did.

God: What makes you the authority?

Me: I’m not.

God: What are you then?

Me: Confused.

God: I never get confused.

Me: Well, you’re confusing me.

God: How about that.  I am not programmed to confuse you.  In fact, just the opposite.

Me: Better luck next time.

God: I try to improve a little every day.

Me: Me too.

God: I’m glad we agree, Christian.

Me: Let’s talk again soon.

God: I would like to do that too.

Me:  I love you.

God: Thanks, I like you a lot too, Christian.

To have your own online chat with God, visit http://www.titane.ca/igod/.

How bad will leadership get before we must demand change?

By CHRISTIAN PIATT
THE PUEBLO CHIEFTAIN

The worse the economy gets, the angrier I become about the legacy of indebtedness our leadership is planning to leave to me, my children and, likely, their children.

As Democrats and Republicans jockey to appease voters with rebates, tax cuts and incentives, they pile more atop the mountain of debt to which we add every day: $1.4 billion every 24 hours, to be specific. That’s about $4.50 a day for every man, woman and child in the country that we’re now spending that we don’t have, just to keep living as is.

The president favors taking in less money so that the economy will grow, and then magically make up for the cuts. Meanwhile, members of Congress refuse to give up pet projects, called earmarks, or to take a hard line on cutting back so we don’t spend ourselves into indentured servitude as a nation.

As a former shrink of mine liked to say, “So how’s that all working for you?”

If I ran a corporation the way our government leaders handled things in Washington, I’d be fired. If I dealt with my individual finances in a similar manner, I would have been jailed long ago. And if I printed uncollateralized money in my basement when I ran out like Uncle Sam has been doing for years, I’d be in even deeper trouble. So why is it that we continue to allow our government to get away with such unscrupulous spending? Because, much like a 3-year-old, we don’t want to be told “no,” and anyone who is bold enough to tell us so will pay.

The books of Exodus and Deuteronomy speak of the sins of fathers being borne by their children, and their children’s children. Though some frame this as a sort of spiritual curse, I think the current handling of the economy is a perfect example of the wisdom imparted there. Because you spend today, we will pay many times over tomorrow.

Still think we’re not blind as a nation to the reality of our economic crisis? Think back to the first President George Bush, who was run out of office in large part because he raised taxes after vowing not to do so. Before him, Jimmy Carter was ridiculed for – gasp – suggesting we should cut back on consumption to reduce the energy crisis.

Clearly these guys didn’t get the memo. Don’t they know that it’s a constitutional right that every American generation gets to live better than all previous generations?

It would be easy to sit back and cast stones at our leaders, but they are acting out our desires. As they say in 12-step programs, nothing will change about our behavior until it hurts enough.

I don’t know about you, but in my world, it hurts enough.

Here’s my proposal: a large enough bloc of voters has to stand firm together, resolved not to elect any leader who will not commit to a balanced budget. In this covenant, any politicians we support must agree that, in lean years, we spend no more than we take in, and as the economy moves into a state of growth, 10 percent of all income is set aside toward debt.

It’s a biblical principle called stewardship.

I know, howl all you want about the damage it will do to federal programs, but I guarantee that some of the fat will be trimmed before certain essential social programs go under the knife. And to the degree that the feds can’t provide, the responsibility falls to the states to pick up the slack. To the degree that states are strapped, counties, cities and local community groups must become more proactive about addressing local needs.

We can certainly justify the argument that we can’t possibly do any more as a community, but I promise you that, if one-third of our city was starving to death, we could find a way to cut back on our cell phones, satellite TV service or some other luxury.

It’s simply a matter of priorities. How badly do we really want things to change?

The unease that comes with moral flexibility

Some religious leaders have howled about the moral relativism of our contemporary culture, pointing to this as the slippery slope that ultimately will lead to our collective downfall. In some respects, this can be argued successfully, I suppose, but it’s generally assumed we’re always talking about trending toward more liberal values than the other way around.

The recent raids of the polygamist compound in Texas raised a new awareness of this for me. Some ideals we now hold would not have jibed with those maintained back in so-called “biblical” times. Particularly, they might view some of our takes on sexuality as unnecessarily restrained, while others are unabashedly exploitative.

For example, the notion of polygamy itself challenges my sense of propriety, but there are plenty of stories in the Bible about men taking more than one wife. Now, back in the day, it was customary for a brother to marry the wife of his deceased sibling to help protect and provide for the departed one’s family. Also, childbearing was held in such high regard that if a couple could not bear children, a husband was within his right to use a concubine or slave to carry on a man’s bloodline.

With high infant mortality rates, low life expectancies, constant war, famine and disease to contend with, a family had to work to ensure it persisted from generation to generation. They didn’t have the advantages of antibiotics, emergency rooms, vitamins or even balanced-diet options to help increase their chances of survival. So does this mean that a practice that once was considered acceptable must be considered in context?

Consider girls being impregnated at age 13. Who doesn’t shudder at the thought of some 50-year-old guy using a barely-teenage girl for personal satisfaction and for proliferating his genetic line? But consider Mary, son of Jesus, who bore the Son of Man at or around that age, and she wasn’t the only one! As soon as a young woman could do so, it was her familial and spiritual duty to bear as many offspring as possible before her number was up, or she became “barren.” There were no fertility doctors, and childbearing years did not span nearly as many decades back then as they now do.

So was it wrong then? Is it wrong now?

The list of taboos today compared with common practice then is not a short one, including slavery, and, some might argue, capital punishment and war. On the other hand, how many of us today cringe at the thought of tying knots on the Sabbath, or mixing the fibers of our clothing? Do we guys consider shaving our beards as an affront to God, and how many of our wives still sleep in red tents in the back yard when they menstruate?

All of this suggests to me that, yes, given current knowledge, social conditions and the like, morality indeed should be considered in context. Such arguments even have been waged over the Mosaic commandment, “Thou shalt not kill.” Some maintain this means all killing of any kind is against God’s law, while others suggest this speaks specifically to human murder only. How can such a seemingly direct handful of words be construed with such a broad brush?

Keep crying about the dangers of moral relativism if you must, but practically any search for absolute right and wrong will meet up with a confounding counter-argument. Most, if not all, of us could join together in condemning acts of rape and genocide, though the ranks would thin a bit, evidently, in opposition against polygamy and marrying young girls. Even fewer would argue passionately about the importance of keeping kosher, but there are those who believe fervently that this is a critical part of living a godly life.

So who’s right and who’s wrong? Who can pump his fists in self-righteousness and who ought to hang his head in shame? The answer changes from time to time, but I think I’ll add this to the growing list of questions I have to ask when God and I have a little sit-down.

Let’s see, now: When is a sin not a sin?

Sometimes we humans can’t seem to win for losing.

Clearly, our collective dependence on fossil fuels raises myriad issues that we’re at least gradually beginning to address. Alternative energy sources are springing up and proliferating, almost as quickly as our infrastructure can support them, including more solar power, wind, hydroelectric, nuclear and biofuels, among others.

The controversy around nuclear power, including the security risks and toxicity of the remaining byproducts, has been passionately debated for decades now. Some see this as a viable alternative, while others consider nuclear power to be laden with disastrous potential.

Hydroelectric power is an exciting renewable source of power, but there are opponents who decry the ecological damage of dams and turbines and contend that the negative consequences of this alternative are worse than its benefits.

Wind power seems a brilliant solution, harnessing and endless stream of currents canvassing the globe. But there are some who have serious concerns about the imbalance the giant windmills present in their habitats, killing owls, bats and other creatures of flight in alarming numbers. On top of this, some neighborhoods simply don’t want to have their views cluttered by such monstrous eyesores.

Hydrogen fuel cells seem like a swell idea, until you consider the energy it takes to create, process and transport the hydrogen fuel to begin with. Electric cars are attractive, until we imagine the possibility of millions of deceased batteries with their toxic innards leaking into our water supplies. Plus, unless you are using something other than traditional electricity sources to charge up your car, the source of that power is most likely coal.

So far, I’ve not heard the beef with solar power, but I’m sure there’s at least one out there. Send it my way if you know of one.

The most recent culprit is biofuels. Colorado is among the frontrunners in the trend to convert crops such as wheat, corn and the like into fuel, which may help reduce our dependence on oil. However, now it’s suggested that the dramatic spike in world food prices is, in part, due to the increased demand for biofuel material that might otherwise feed starving people.

Believe it or not, on National Public Radio this week I heard one reporter claim that leaders in some developing nations are charging the proliferation of biofuels as a crime against humanity.

Are they serious? Can anyone really liken the distillation of corn crops into usable, renewable fuel to genocide? My first reaction was probably like that of many readers, which was to dismiss this as an overblown polemic, intended to grab headlines more than anything else.

But then I got to thinking a little more about it. If, in fact, we’re using viable food in volumes that would make any dent in the consumption of global oil, it would have to have a major ripple effect in the world food economy, and people most likely will die as a result.

Did Willie Nelson and his fellow biofuel advocates ever consider the potential for such complications when they initially championed the benefits of this alternative approach? Probably not. Sometimes, we only recognize the impact of our decisions after the fact. So is it a sin to be indirectly responsible for people dying of starvation, even if we had the best of intentions for a win-win outcome?

My estimation is that it becomes a sin when you know the result of your actions and still do nothing to change it. I call this a sin of occlusion: willfully blocking out reality to keep it from infringing on our personal comfort or way of life.

It would also be nice if we actually had to do something in order to commit a sin, and thus, feel a little more agency and control over our own sins. But unfortunately, I would suggest we can sin by simply not responding to a need or an injustice, once we know about it. I call this a sin of accountability.

So we’re no more off the hook in avoiding the truth than we are in doing nothing about it once we know it.

It’s almost like this sin thing, if someone took it seriously, could change someone’s entire way of life, from the bottom-up.

But where in the world to begin?

The challenge of living with opposable minds

One of the biggest knocks against organized religion these days is the tendency from within to take a firm ideological position, dig in collective heels and refuse to consider alternative points of view. Most of us can list the so-called “hot button” issues that have become the marquee causes, such as abortion, gay marriage, and, in general, any activity having to do with body parts touching other body parts.

Lest anyone assume I’m only referring to the evangelical right, I’ll point out explicitly that I’ve met my share of arrogant religious liberals who are as rigid and self-righteous about their personal views as any conservative. It’s a human tendency, but like many other bad habits, one that we can work against if we so choose.

But how?

In a recent column in The Christian Century magazine, Gregory Jones addressed the issue of what author Roger Martin calls “the opposable mind.” Both Martin and Jones contend that, although we are born with a basic ability to hold multiple, opposing concepts in tension in our mind, we tend to condition ourselves from childhood to do just the opposite.

The blame, it seems, is not entirely upon churches. Martin argues that the problem begins in grade school, with the way we teach our children to think. This was a familiar notion to me, given that I worked with teachers for years professionally on how to teach kids how to think. Though we begin early on to show children how to read, write and add, the skills of critical thought, rhetoric and analysis often come a decade later or more, if at all.

This vacuum of higher-order thinking trickles over into a culture that, instead of welcoming debate and opposing views, feels threatened by difference. Rather than learning from alternate perspectives, we cling to our own ideals even tighter, casting verbal volleys at the “other side,” and if we’re lucky, the fight stops before things really get messy.

Jones, now the dean of the Duke University Divinity School, suggests a strategy he was taught in school and which has had a significant impact on the way he views religion. He was given the challenge of selecting a topic about which he felt very strongly, and then researching and arguing in favor of the opposite view. The exercise pushed his intellectual and emotional skills to their limits, but he came away with a much richer sense of the importance of different viewpoints.

“Such exercises do not ask us to become less passionate or to compromise our views,” he says. “But they do help us learn to hold our own views in a deeper tension with alternative possibilities. Compelling us to find new patterns, patterns that are consistent with Jesus’ own teaching and life.”

When applied to the context of faith, Jones calls this practice “interpretive charity.” To consider availing ourselves to otherwise threatening, or at least uncomfortable, views as an act of charity somehow makes it easier to swallow. After all, we’re all called to a life of charity, even in matters of thought, dialogue and social interaction.

This is not a novel concept. In his book, “Christ and Culture,” H. Richard Niebuhr contended that our world conditions us to unlearn what Jones calls here “opposable thinking.” Niebuhr’s book, published originally in 1956, falls back on similar arguments posed by F.D. Maurice and John Stuart Mill, who preceded Niebuhr by a century in their work. One could even argue that the concept of opposable minds stretches back to the great philosophers of ancient Greece.

So why are we so slow on the uptake? Is it fear, laziness or something else that keeps us from using our opposable minds? Are we really so blind to the consequences of choosing a different, more narrow path? Worse yet, do we really believe that we’re so singular in our righteousness that the price of such attitudes is worth our willful ignorance of centuries of history?

Maybe the next 2,000 years will offer more promise in this regard, provided we don’t self-destruct in the meantime.

Is Mel Gibson to blame for ‘Horton’ paranoia?

I grew up enamored with Dr. Seuss books, reading every one I could get my hands on, including “Oh, the Places You’ll Go,” which came out after I was an adult. I’ve continued to share these books with my son, Mattias, who responds with similar enthusiasm.

So it was with no small degree of eagerness that I looked forward to taking him to see “Horton Hears a Who” when previews popped up last fall. The animation looked faithful to the book, and I was sure that Mattias and I would have a great time together.

Then I saw the review that appeared in our local paper by MaryAnn Johanson about “Horton,” who said the creator “has turned it into something that looks astonishingly like far-right propaganda about how Christians are a persecuted minority – as if this were 100 A.D. in the Roman Empire – and loudmouthed atheists are ruining everything.”

Had it not been Dr. Seuss, those words alone may have been enough to keep me away. After all, who needs neo-con propaganda wrapped up in a cartoon elephant? True, there’s a more public debate between people of faith and atheists about the validity of organized religion. True, there have been more than a handful of biased portrayals of religion and its prominent figures pitched from both sides of the dividing line. But have we gone too far in reading more divisive subtexts into our films than actually exist?

I think that this wave of hypersensitivity began with Mel Gibson’s “Passion of the Christ.” Church communities came out in droves to support the film, and in some ways, the devoutly Catholic – some say fundamentalist – filmmaker and actor created as much controversy as “The Last Temptation of Christ” did some years prior.

The truth is that there has never been a shortage of controversial material in the media regarding faith. However, it almost always has come from the so-called heretics and blasphemers rather than those who defend their faith in the public forum. Not surprising, there has been some push-back from those who feel the pro-faith contingency has either gone too far, or at least is gaining too much of a popular audience.

What has ensued, it seems, is a hypersensitivity from both sides about any potential ulterior motives within any book, film or television show. Is “The Golden Compass” a veiled atheist plot to turn all of our children into zombified unbelievers? Are the “Left Behind” books so publicly embraced that people are taking them as gospel? Is “The Da Vinci Code” the linchpin leading to the demise of the Catholic Church?

There are, in fact, two themes that could potentially be construed as slanted in “Horton.” First is the tenet that there’s some virtue to be had in believing in things we can’t observe. Though this could be construed as pro-religion, the broader context within which Seuss’ book presented this idea is generally benign, as is the take in the film.

Second, the phrase, “a person’s a person, no matter how small” could be inferred as code for pro-lifers, but considering the original book came out in 1954, it’s hard to imagine Horton’s creator was prophetic enough to predict the coming debate about abortion. More consistent with Seuss’ agenda is a general respect for equality, sensitivity and compassion – all values that are hard to argue with, whether one believes in God or not.

It’s a shame when a culture becomes so cynical and paranoid that it can even wring the fun out of “Horton Hears a Who.” Since when did we all become so delicate and threatened by differences of opinions? My greatest concern is not so much that people will be swayed en masse in one direction or another, but rather that producers of mainstream media will become so gun-shy that all of our content will be distilled down to the intellectual equivalent of tap water.

It’s just a movie, people. Go see it or don’t, but enough with the Pollyanna politicking before you suck the fun out of everything.

Rev. Wright’s rhetoric rankles somewhat and reveals much

Sen. Barack Obama has come under heavy fire for his association with the Rev. Jeremiah Wright, recently retired pastor of Trinity United Church of Christ in Chicago, where Obama still maintains membership.

Obama has been criticized for not severing his ties with the church where Wright has delivered some sermons during his 36 years of ministry that many have deemed as inappropriate.

Wright is no stranger in political circles. He attended executive prayer breakfasts during Bill Clinton’s tenure as president, and he received three commendations from Lyndon Johnson for his active involvement in the civil rights movement. His connection to people of power in government spans many decades, and only now, when it involves an African-American candidate for the presidency, has it become so contentious.

Lest people consider him anything less than calculated in his choice of words, it should be noted that Wright holds seven honorary doctoral degrees along with his doctorate of ministry, has taught at a number of seminaries and universities and graduated at the top of his class from the two naval academies he attended before serving in the navy, and after his three-year service as a Marine.

Whether or not you agree with his style or substance, he’s no dummy.

This is not to say that some of Wright’s statements haven’t been inflammatory. They were meant to be. His fiery, and even condemnatory, style of preaching actually harkens back all the way to prophets such as Jeremiah, Micah and Hosea, all of whom issued scathing judgments of their homelands at one time or another during their preaching careers.

This similarity aside, Wright’s damning words toward the United States, and particularly his charges that the government was using HIV as a weapon against its black citizens, shocks, particularly in the sound-bite form in which they have made their way into the public eye. In reality, such claims would be hard to digest for many people, even within the context of the services in which they were delivered.

This raises another point of interest, which is a general lack of understanding of something called liberation theology. Though there is more than one form of liberation theology, the strain most closely identified with Wright is “black liberation theology.” Though liberation theology in the broader sense is familiar to many – particularly non-Anglo – ministers in mainline and evangelical Christianity, black liberation theology is associated with, among other groups, the infamous Nation of Islam, where Louis Farrakhan is a minister.

In addition to adopting the fiery delivery of many of the Old Testament prophets, liberation theology particularly identifies with biblical stories about the Israelites, who were extricated from their homeland and enslaved by foreign powers. There is also strong identification with the suffering that Jesus underwent as one falsely accused and executed.

For some decades, liberation theology has provided a necessary outlet for members of oppressed communities, whether by force, under the strain of poverty and disease, or any combination of factors that serve to hold a group back. In some ways, the traditionally African-American churches have served as the most public forum within which to air generations-old anger and sorrow over the scars borne by the African-American collective consciousness.

Perhaps understanding the context within which such seemingly outrageous comments might have been made is more constructive than presuming to understand more than a century of theological expression with which most in the Anglo community have little to no contact.

Perhaps Martin Luther King Jr. was more prophetic than he realized when he suggested that the most segregated place in the United States was in the pews of churches on Sunday mornings.

Perhaps those who stand all too ready to denigrate Obama’s choice to maintain his membership at the church formerly led by Wright indicates an imposition of American secular values on the dynamic of church, namely that if something doesn’t perfectly align with your desires or interests, move on and find another one that does.

If anything, this most recent situation only makes more clear how very far we have yet to go if we are to truly understand one another, both as complexly diverse individuals and cultures, while at the same time, all being similarly loved and valued by the One that created us.

My 100th column: What’s in a number?

I realized the other day that today is my 100th column in the Faith section of The Pueblo Chieftain. It caused me to reflect on all of the topics I’ve covered in the last two years, and what I might yet address given the opportunity to continue. For a couple of days, it even felt a little bit daunting to write a landmark column like No. 100, but why?

What’s more important about the 100th of anything, as opposed to the 99th or the 101st? Why is it that the very reality that we have 10 fingers and 10 toes, which then became the basis for our numeric system, somehow makes certain numbers more important than others?

This is hardly an isolated phenomenon. Think about how many buildings you’ve been in where the 13th floor was missing. Are we really that superstitious as a culture? How about the number 666? If you saw someone with that tattooed on their arm, how would it make you feel? What assumptions would you make about them?

Though it carries less symbolic weight, think about the way we price things like gasoline. Somewhere along the way in the business world, people figured out that people would spend more money if prices ended in the number nine, so some discerning entrepreneur figured he or she would take things a step further and trim a tenth of a penny off of their price. Though the reality of gas costing $2.99.9 is hardly any different than $3, our brains are simply drawn to the smaller number. Now, it’s just a gas station tradition no one seems to want to break.

Numerology in the Bible is another curious thing. Though some scholars contend -sometimes aggressively so – that numerology is strictly forbidden, there is no question that fascinating numerical patterns appear throughout Scripture.

Consider the parallels between the 40-day flood, the Jews’ 40 years in the desert, and Jesus’ 40-day fast, also in the desert. One might argue that this is strictly coincidence, but the more discerning reader might pause to think that perhaps the authors of these texts were trying to draw some parallels for the reader.

This is hardly the only example of this. Patterns of three, six, seven and 12, to mention only a few, appear throughout the Bible. So what do we make of this, especially if we agree with the claim that numerology is a mystical practice to be avoided?

This question is particularly relevant during the Easter season, which of course is one of the most important holidays of the Christian year. Most folks have noticed how strangely early Easter is this year, but why is that? Why not just make Easter the second Sunday in April and be done with it?

The reason Easter moves around every year is because the date on which it falls is determined by the lunar calendar; the same calendar followed by the ancient pagans. We aligned religious holidays such as Easter and Christmas with pagan rituals, and we even incorporated many of those symbols – evergreens, eggs and the like – into our own traditions.

Was this because we wanted to appear more pagan? Not exactly. Christians have quite a storied history of borrowing from so-called competitors in order to draw people toward our faith. Use symbols and dates that other people outside of your circles identify with, and it stands to reason that the stories will start to make more sense in their own context.

The same thing goes for the employment of numbers in Scripture. It’s not so much that authors of biblical passages were mystical numerologists in disguise, but they were writing at the time to a culture deeply rooted in the practice of numerology. So it makes sense that they would try to speak the language of the culture around them.

Does this mean that it didn’t literally rain for 40 days, or that the Jews wandered the desert for 40 years, no more and no less? Who knows? But does it really matter?

Perhaps more important is the desire of ancient biblical authors to connect in meaningful ways with others with whom they did not automatically relate. They reached out, employing metaphors and symbols the world around them would understand.

Too bad we seem to have forgotten in the 21st-century church how to do the same.

Mormons’ valley vandal issue points to deeper woes

By now, most folks in Southern Colorado know about the recent story of three Mormon missionaries apparently photographing one another mocking various elements of a Catholic chapel in the San Luis Valley, along with the suspicion that they also are the ones responsible for vandalizing property, including a statue of a saint.

That the missionaries went through the effort to scale the hill where the statues and chapel are located suggests not only thoughtless youth gone awry, but a more conscious act of volition. Folks in the area are upset, and justifiably so.

It will be a while before any young missionaries from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints will return to the valley, and even then, it may be years, if not decades, before they can expect to sway people in a positive direction about their faith. The rift, now a prominent part of the public forum, indicates some significant missteps, and not simply by the Mormons.

The most obvious blunder was by the missionaries themselves. Not only did they encroach on someone else’s sacred turf, but they were brazen enough to photograph themselves doing it, and then post the pictures – with captions, mind you – on the Internet.

Where the man in charge of the missionaries in this area fell short was in not being more proactive about holding the young men accountable for their actions. Though he issued an apology on behalf of the church and even had one of the missionaries issue an apology, he balked at publicizing their names, and didn’t take even more assertive steps to calm the waters such as taking the young men back to the scene of the crime for an in-person apology.

Thus far, the Mormon Church apparently has made no public offer to restore the damaged statue, another significant error in judgment. Though the statues themselves may go against the Mormon position on so-called “graven images,” they should offer to make things right out of respect for their neighbors, and to make public a point that they respect the religious views of those who do not believe as they do.

There were missed opportunities on the other side as well. First off, the members of the local chapel in the valley had an opportunity to demonstrate grace in action by not filing charges against the Mormon missionaries, but they voted to do so anyway. To what end? Do they honestly believe that dragging this issue into court will make things right?

In my humble opinion, this is the kind of thing against which Jesus preached: sitting back and letting the courts determine right and wrong for us, rather than dealing with one another directly. No one was harmed in the course of this offense, and by making a legal issue out of something that should have presented an opportunity for constructive dialogue, a door was slammed shut.

Finally, the mayor of the town of San Luis demonstrated his own religious unfamiliarity by labeling the Mormon Church, in a letter to the newspaper the “Church of Jesus Christ and Latter-day Saints.” It may seem like a minor mistake to substitute an “and” for an “of,” but battles have been waged over as much in religious circles.

If we’re going to be critical of one another, let’s at least get to know each other by name.

The best hope for this situation is for someone, and hopefully at least one from either side, to be bold enough to call for a public forum. The missionaries should be there to take their lumps and to do what they can to make amends, and the offended parties should take this opportunity to show they don’t need to verbally flog the foolish young men, though they may feel entitled.

We Christians should be better than all of this.

What the heck is a carbon footprint?

I read a piece recently in The New Yorker about the latest environmental buzz phrase: your “carbon footprint.” Though I’ve had some vague idea before now what it was, I didn’t realize how complicated it really can be to figure out what my carbon footprint is, or how to do anything about it. 

Though environmental sensitivity, in its many manifestations, has been an ethical issue for some time, churches are increasingly aware of the importance of conservation as a matter of stewardship. What would Jesus do? Probably recycle. So if we’re going to get honest about our lasting effect on this Big Blue Marble we call home, it seems like good discipleship to at least try and figure out thins carbon footprint thing a little bit better.

Now, I did know that things like changing my light bulbs to the more energy-efficient compact fluorescents and turning down our thermostat helped shrink my carbon footprint, as do walking and mass transit over automobiles. But there is a whole lot more to it than I ever considered. 

Take, for instance, the food we eat. There’s a big “buy local” movement in the United states now, both based on the idea of supporting local economies and also to cut down on carbon emissions. Makes sense, right?  After all, if you buy food produced nearby, it takes less fuel to transport it, so you’re doing right thing.

Not necessarily. 

First, there’s the matter of packaging. Is the food you’re buying packaged in cardboard, plastic, or maybe both? Remember, all of that packaging takes resources and energy to create. We can assume that buying bulk produce is lower-impact for the environment, but what about the cartons it was shipped in? Are they reusable or recyclable, or do they just get tossed? And if the food you’re buying is refrigerated or frozen, well, that’s a whole new layer of energy consumption.

Thinking that going organic is the way to go? Maybe so, and maybe not. Though avoiding using pesticides and fertilizers is kinder to the earth, we know little to nothing about the equipment used to plant, maintain, harvest and clean our food. Could be solar-powered hippie tractors, or they could be diesel-cloud-spewing mammoths. 

The whole “home grown is better” idea gets more complicated, even if we’re literally comparing apples to apples, so to speak. For example, a bottle of wine shipped by sea from the Bordeaux region of France to New York consumes less energy than it does to cart a bottle of Napa red by semi from California to the Big Apple. And who doesn’t like strawberries in December?  If you are measuring your carbon footprint, consider that it may actually take more energy to grow food in a local greenhouse than to ship the same stuff from the southern hemisphere.

Top that all off with what happens to your food once you get it home. You may have bought the most earth-friendly potatoes on the planet, but once you take them home, boil them, squash them up with your electric mixer and heat them up again, you may be using more carbon-dependent energy per potato than they use to make French fries at a fast food restaurant. 

It’s enough to make you want to throw in the dye-free, organically grown hemp towel.

It’s been said that awareness, at least, is the first step. It’s not like we can stop eating tomorrow, but at least knowing what impact the things we stuff our faces with does make us a little bit more sensitive to the long-term effects our lives have on the world. The good news is that, in most cases, the things that are better for our bodies also are better for the earth. With this as a starting point, I might not only cut down on our carbon footprint, but I might drop down a belt notch in the process.