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Mar 21, 2008

L.B.: The Pope of Mount Prospect

Left Behind, pp. 421

After the Steeles meet with the Rev. Bruce Barnes, it's Buck Williams' turn:

Two hours after the Steeles had left, Buck Williams parked his rental car in front of New Hope Village Church in Mount Prospect, Illinois.

The real Mount Prospect is home to more than a dozen churches. I can't help but wonder if they also exist in the fictional world of Left Behind and, if so, what's going on at their buildings while Bruce stays up late at New Hope trying to design a cool logo for the Tribulation Force.

Were the parishioners or members or attendees of those other churches -- the Baptists, Lutherans, Methodists, Episcopalians and Catholics -- among the disappeared? If so, have they also, like New Hope, begun to gather small cadres of those who realize what happened and what they missed?

The gist of LB thus far suggests that all of those mainline Protestants and Catholics would not make the cut come Rapture time. They might call themselves Christians, but they're not Real True Christians according to Tim LaHaye's idea of God's standards (which is to say, Tim LaHaye's standards -- he seems to think that on the day of judgment God will hire him as a consultant to separate the wheat from the tares). But even so, non-RTCs still have children. Or had children. The disintegration of every single child of every single family at all of those churches would lead to crowded sanctuaries filled with grieving, traumatized parents seeking answers.

Pastors like the now-departed Vernon Billings tend to stick to themselves. They don't associate or cooperate much with other clergy in their communities. They don't get involved with ministerial councils or interdenominational efforts. The stated reason for this is usually that light should have no fellowship with darkness, by which they mean that they would consider it a sin to associate with people like that liberal Methodist pastor who got arrested at that protest last year, or that woman from the Episcopal church who calls herself a priest, or that "welcoming and affirming" [epithet] from the local UCC church who wears a rainbow prayer stole.

Plus when the rabbi shows up at those interfaith meetings, they ask you not to mention Jesus when you pray, and you know the spell doesn't work if you don't say "in Jesus name."

Working with other churches is perilously ecumenical. Ecumenism -- cooperation among disparate Christian churches in recognition of our underlying unity -- is not considered a Good Thing by people like Billings, or Lahaye and Jenkins. Even the most harmless-seeming forms of cooperation, such as taking turns providing shelter through a local interfaith hospitality network or some such, are too dangerous. It's a slippery slope from there to syncretism, the collapse of absolute standards, moral relativism, one world religion, One World Government, human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together ... mass hysteria.

The Ghostbusters quote at the end there is hyperbole. The rest of that isn't. This is exactly what they believe. What they will tell you they believe. What they teach. Left Behind teaches this explicitly. Readers are intended to see the slippery slope between a metropolitan ministerial council and Carpathia's "Enigma Babylon One World Faith." This is meant as a warning.

This objection to interdenominational and interfaith cooperation was much-discussed in evangelical circles following 9/11. The scale and impact of that tragedy was such that a few RTC pastors for once set aside that objection, participating in some of the various memorial vigils and prayer services. That participation was a source of "controversy" and recrimination for months afterward. (That same kind of controversy never seems to follow, however, when the interfaith activity in question is a vigil for Terri Schiavo or an anti-abortion rally. That's interesting.)

The willingness to interact or associate with clergy from other denominations or faiths used to be one of the markers for differentiating between fundamentalists and evangelicals. Evangelicals rallied behind Billy Graham as he effectively worked with local churches from every denomination (even papists!) to help coordinate his mass-evangelism "crusades." Graham's mega-church heirs -- people like Bill Hybels and Rick Warren -- have taken a similar approach. I may not like everything Warren says, but I appreciate that he's willing to work with clergy of other denominations and even other faiths. This new generation of leaders, like Graham, insist that such cooperation is possible without compromising one's own identity. Their critics disagree, vehemently. And those critics are no longer found only in the fundamentalist/separatist wings of the subculture.

The fundies' white-knuckled anxiety -- their barely repressed doubts and their fear that their faith may be a house of cards that would crumble if exposed to the wider world -- seems to be spreading to other branches of the evangelical movement. That's the predictable result of adding weird mythologies to one's faith. The fundies convinced themselves that if the world is any older than 10,000 years then Jesus doesn't love them. Thus they have to avoid all exposure to science. Evangelicals are trying to convince themselves that homosexuality is a choice and that the invasion of Iraq was God's Will. Like the fundies, they have welded these ideas to the bearing walls of their faith, so that if they are not true, then nothing is true. They thus find themselves, like the fundies, having to avoid exposure to an awful lot of the real world around them.

There's one other reason that I think people like the Rev. Billings oppose interdenominational cooperation. It has to do with power and influence. Evangelical polity -- the structure of this unstructured, nondenominational movement -- is roughly feudal, like a collection of competing fiefdoms. It's very important to a guy like the Rev. Vernon Billings that he be the biggest fish in the pond. Acknowledging that his is not the only pond, and that it is far from the largest, threatens his sense of authority. Once you recognize the legitimacy, or even the existence, of all those other churches in town then it's much harder to maintain the illusion that you're the Pope of Mount Prospect.

Getting back to those other churches in town, if we accept the world of Left Behind as the authors have sketched it out for us, then we have to assume that most of the adults from those other congregations were not RTCs and so were not among the disappeared. Bruce Barnes was until very recently a faux-Christian himself, but he seems to view the clergy and laity of these other churches as an even more reprobate species of fraud. It thus never occurs to him to speak to them about what he knows or to attempt to recruit them to his cause.

But while it's not surprising that he doesn't reach out to them, it's strange that none of them are reaching out too him. Those other clergy may not believe the premillennial dispensationalist heresies that Billings taught, but they would all be familiar enough with the substance of them to recognize what they were seeing. They would realize by now what was happening -- realize that they, like all the church fathers and theologians they had ever studied, were wrong and that Billings and Hal Lindsay and (especially) Cassandra LaHaye were right. And despite their being overwhelmed with their duties chaplaining the traumatized community, those other clergy would all be getting in touch with Bruce Barnes.

That doesn't happen here. It doesn't happen for the same reason that Bruce has no problem renting a car or driving 20 miles out I-90 to Mount Prospect despite all the chaos and debris that should be but isn't affecting anyone, anywhere in this book a mere 10 days after The Event.

And but so anyway, Buck pulls up to the church:

He had a sense of destiny tinged with fear. Who would this Bruce Barnes be? What would he look like? And would be be able to detect a non-Christian at a glance?

The authors apparently imagine that his is a common question unbelievers have about RTC clergy: Does their non-Christian detection power work at a single glance, or does it require physical contact?

I can't figure out why anyone would ever think this. Nor can I figure out why the authors would think that anyone would ever think this. It's not just wrong, it's bewilderingly wrong.

And anyway why should Buck care? He's not trying to pass himself off as a Christian, so he shouldn't be worrying that Bruce's spiritual gaydar will penetrate his cunning disguise.

Buck sat in the car, his head in his hands. He was too analytical, he knew, to make a rash decision. Even his leaving home years before to pursue an education and become a journalist had been plotted for years. To his family it came like a thunderbolt, but to young Cameron Williams it was a logical next step, a part of his long-range plan.

What family wouldn't be thunderstruck? Buck finishes high school and then astonishes them all by announcing that he's going away to college to pursue a career. It's so utterly unprecedented.

We're constantly being told that Buck is methodical and analytical (always a bad trait in LB), but we never see this. It seems that by "analytical" in this case the authors mean his stubborn refusal to accept the undeniable implications of explicit divine intervention. That actually seems like the opposite of analytical.

We've also seen that not only is Buck capable of making a "rash decision," he has a propensity for it. He flew to England to expose an international conspiracy, but less than 24 hours later he was cutting a deal with them and helping them to cover their tracks. He met Chloe yesterday, fell in love at first sight and impulsively booked the seat next to her on a flight to Chicago.

Again, this could have worked in a different novel where this was an intentional device -- the self-deceived voice of an unreliable narrator rather than the voice of one writer's Mary Sue substitute. But here the chasm between Buck's concept of himself and his actual character and behavior escape not just his notice, but the authors' as well. They don't perceive any such gap, and even if they did they seem to think that their assertions trump the actions they describe. We've never seen Buck think "analytically" and we have seen him, time and again, make rash decisions, but when the authors contradict this -- "He was too analytical ... to make a rash decision" -- that's supposed to settle the matter.

This is Bad Writing, but it's not wholly unrelated to the authors' Bad Theology. The same gap between what they tell and what they show, between asserted character and actual character, can be seen wherever the novel touches on the nature of God. They tell us that the God they believe in is good, just and loving. But the God they show us is a bloodthirsty, capricious, evil monstrosity.

That's partly the result of Bad Writing, too, but more than that it seems to be Bad Writing by Bad People. The character of God in LB is, like Buck and Rayford, another Mary-Sue wish-fulfillment surrogate for the authors. They have recreated God in their own image. And that image isn't pretty.

Comments

And would be be able to detect a non-Christian at a glance?

Yeah, that would be anyone still living.

What, I wonder, does "a sense of destiny" - with or without the "tinge of fear" - feel like? Excitement, yes; felt that. Ditto anticipation, trepidation, and nervousness. But Destiny?

"he seems to think that on the day of judgment God will hire him as a consultant to separate the wheat from the tares"

I wonder if he has that on his business cards?

Tim LaHaye
Author, Theologian, Christian Speaker
Presiding Judge Over all Humanity

So the Baptist lady got up and drove to church one Sunday, only to find that the parking lot was empty. A chill ran down her spine as she realized she was . . . left behind!!! What had she done, how had she sinned, to miss the Rapture? Then she looked across the street and saw that the Methodist parking lot was also empty. "Whew," she thought with relief. "I forgot that Daylight Savings Time ended today."

With regards to RTC pastor Barnes not cooperating with other churches, I think it's more bad writing than bad theology. You've mentioned this before with regards to Buck's plane-hopping; the writers have created a world in which there are 4-5 real people, and 5 billion cardboard cutouts. Because of this, the authors think "what is Buck, Bruce, Raymond, Chloe doing", and then don't bother to consider how it would affect anyone else. That may be an indication of narcissism, but I think it's lazy writing (75 pages a day!) more than anything else.

Plus when the rabbi shows up at those interfaith meetings, they ask you not to mention Jesus when you pray, and you know the spell doesn't work if you don't say "in Jesus name."

Do they modify it ... to something like, "in His holy name" or "in the Lord's name"?

josh: With regards to RTC pastor Barnes not cooperating with other churches, I think it's more bad writing than bad theology.

Agreed. Hanlon's Razor applies.

The Bad Writing continues to boggle me, even though I feel as if I should be used to it by now, but it's the Bad Theology that freezes my blood every time.

Also, Buck is the Worst Journalist Ever. I've worked with some real-life contenders for that title, but Buck leaves them all in the dust. "Would he be able to detect a non-Christian at a glance?" WTF does he think Bruce is, a vampire slayer?

"Do they modify it ... to something like, "in His holy name" or "in the Lord's name"?"
I'd imagine they just drop the "In Jesus name we pray" before the Amen.

It seems like Buck's almost realized what he's been denying all these years...that he believes in god and Jesus but wouldn't let himself realize that. Of course, that's just a lie that the RTC's tell themselves to make themselves feel better about the way their selfishness goes directly against the teachings of the man they ostensibly follow, but whatever.

Rayford sickens me, and Hattie and Chloe elicit my heartfelt pity.

But Buck amuses me to no end. To me, he is the second most amusing character in the Left Behind series. (The first is Nick Andes.)

I don't know how this man can even call himself heroic after selling out to the same folks that had his friends killed.

It has to do with power and influence. Evangelical polity -- the structure of this unstructured, nondenominational movement -- is roughly feudal, like a collection of competing fiefdoms. Acknowledging that his is not the only pond, and that it is far from the largest, threatens his sense of authority.

So true - and genuinely (if subconsciously) reflected in so much anti-Catholic sentiment among evangelical Protestants. They reject structure & authority on an institutional level as "bureuacracy in the church" that "hinders the work of the Spirit", while at the same time, church leaders (from the "senior" pastors all the way down to the greeters & ushers) hoard whatever authority is available. It's not universal, but the frequency of this behavior is inversely proportional to the level of denominational involvement (ie - the Anglicans & Presbyterians I've seen are rather ho-hum about their positions & titles, while non-denoms take pains to explain what it all means, and where they are in the hierarchy). The best pastors I've seen are those that public knock themselves & others down about this, and those aren't common enough.

Great analysis as always, Fred.

*****

Bruce's spiritual gaydar

Wow - Major band name alert!

A lot of the churches in Mount Prospect are primarily Korean, IIRC, so they're probably off the radar as far as both Billings and LaHaye/Jenkins are concerned.

Who would this Bruce Barnes be? What would he look like? And would be be able to detect a non-Christian at a glance?

Could he turn wights at a 60' distance?

Man, I played a Paladin for the first time in January. It sucked -- turn undead doesn't cause them to burst into flames or *anything*. They just run away. Feh. It's back to Rogues and Bards for me.

Tim LaHaye Author, Theologian, Christian Speaker Presiding Judge Over all Humanity

I'd like to imagine that any human being, when actually put into that position, would be unable to condemn anyone to an eternity of suffering. I know that if I had to judge, and the choice was heaven or hell, I'd probably just say "fuck it, room for all!" I can't imagine that a thinking, feeling person would have that little empathy.

Cassandra LaHaye? I don't get it.

But I have seen the non-cooperation between churchs. In my wife's home town there is a Baptist Church and a 1st Baptist Church within two blocks of each other. The Baptists will have nothing to do with the 1st Baptists. That's nothing new as the two churches have been there since the 1880's.

It's quite sad really. At least the 1st Baptists cooperate with the other churches in the area. Needless to say the Baptist Church is dying with an extremely small congregation.

It's a slippery slope from there to syncretism, the collapse of absolute standards, moral relativism, one world religion, One World Government, human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together ... mass hysteria...Friends, the idle brain is the devil's playground--Trouble! Right here in River City! With a capital T and that rhymes with P and that stands for Pool!

Now he's concerned that the Pope of Mount Prospect will be able to detect a non-Christian. In a short time, at the beginning of the climactic scene, he'll be terrified that the Antichrist might be able to detect a Christian.

Carl: I'd like to imagine that any human being, when actually put into that position, would be unable to condemn anyone to an eternity of suffering.

In debates with Fundamentalists, I've argued that the concept of hell as a place of eternal torment is incompatible with the idea of a just and merciful God.

But while it's not surprising that he doesn't reach out to them, it's strange that none of them are reaching out too him.

I'm sure the UU church around the corner has formed a committee to look into this.

Cassandra LaHaye? I don't get it.

Cassandra is a character from one of the classic Greek plays (can't remember which one offhand). IIRC, she was cursed by the gods to know everything that would happen in the future, but no one would believe her.

No doubt this is how LaHaye feels when faced with someone outside their little charmed circle.

What family wouldn't be thunderstruck? Buck finishes high school and then astonishes them all by announcing that he's going away to college to pursue a career. It's so utterly unprecedented.

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! Love the snark, Fred! Thank you!

In debates with Fundamentalists, I've argued that the concept of hell as a place of eternal torment is incompatible with the idea of a just and merciful God.

I've been on both sides of the same argument. The usual rebuttal is that god's perfect justice requires that humans (utterly worthless, corrupt, evil humans) to be eternally condemned, and that it's a huge outpouring of mercy that god save any of us. I'm just saying that this is a standard that religious people are willing to assign to god, but probably wouldn't be able to actually follow through on if it had to be their choice.

he seems to think that on the day of judgment God will hire him as a consultant to separate the wheat from the tares

In my limited experience with RTCs they seem to think that they have already been given such a mandate. This comes in handy when their doctrine of "once saved, always saved" encounters people (like me) who used to be Christians but aren't any more. We just never really made it in the first place. Probably forgot the eye of newt.

he seems to think that on the day of judgment God will hire him as a consultant to separate the wheat from the tares

I don't think he just "seems to". I think he believes just that.

When I was about 13, my best friend of three or four years joined a PMD church. I wasn't interested at all, and it disintegrated our friendship. One of the things his church had taught him was that at the end of the world, God would require the faithful to judge the unfaithful--this had been proven by "research". It was all in the bible. "And I'm really scared," he said to me, "because I'm afraid I might have to send you the other way."

Now, possibly that particular bit of theology was unique to his church, but I don't think so. Judging from the fancy production values of the pamphlets and literature my friend showed me, they weren't far out of the fundamentalist mainstream; nobody in 1980 was doing quality production runs like that for a single dinky church. And every other thing my friend said about the end-times matches LaHaye's ideas perfectly. So I suspect that's part of the whole PMD mindset, and LaHaye does indeed believe he'll be Judgin' for Jesus by and by.

In one small Maine town near here, there's a 'Bible-Believing Baptist Church', which name I love, because of the imputation that the other local Baptist Churches aren't

Er, correction: Outside HIS little charmed circle.

The fundies' white-knuckled anxiety -- their barely repressed doubts and their fear that their faith may be a house of cards that would crumble if exposed to the wider world -- seems to be spreading to other branches of the evangelical movement. That's the predictable result of adding weird mythologies to one's faith.

"Adding weird mythologies to one's faith", huh? Weirder than pregnant virgins, you mean?

"Evangelicals are trying to convince themselves that homosexuality is a choice..."

The gays and lesbians I know would certainly appreciate the intention of your sentiment, sir, but frankly even you are behind the times. The really "cutting edge" sentiment right now is, "What the fuck does it matter if we 'chose' to be this way?" I know lesbian women who will explicitly say, "I chose to be this way.

"He had a sense of destiny tinged with fear."

What does "destiny" feel like? Sure it wasn't just gas? 'Cause I've had gas and felt it tinged with fear before. Like, "I sure hope I don't fart in the middle of this job interview" or similar.

"Who would this Bruce Barnes be? What would he look like?"

Lol. Lol a lot. This sweaty anxiety about one pasty middle-aged man meeting another such man. Hey pasty men: You aren't that exciting. That job you hold as vice president of sales for CrapCo or deputy sherriff or pastor? Not really very impressive. You're just a man in a tie. You play golf, how the hell interesting could you be?

"And would be be able to detect a non-Christian at a glance?"

Now I actually do get this worry. To visit my friends in Brooklyn, I walk first through the part of the neighborhood inhabited by the Satmar Hasidim. And tons of time I worry "Can they detect a secular Jew at a glance?" I know that the Satmar don't have a "mission" like the Lubavitchers do, but I nonetheless get worried. Can they tell I'm married to a schikse? Can they tell I have absolutely no intention of having our male children circumcised? Do you know how awesome I find the taste of eel?

Religious people put out an aura. It's not an aura of holiness, like they think it is, but it is an aura.

Cassandra LaHaye? I don't get it.

The mythological Cassandra, I presumed, in that poor LaHaye is making all kinds of dire predictions that no one believes, but when it all comes true, won't they be sorry?

Darn, beaten to it. Must type faster!

There. Forgot to close my hyperlink tags. Sorry.

alaskazimm: Cassandra the fortuneteller, cursed to have no one believe her (accurate) prophesies. The people push her aside, merrily welcome the Trojan horse, and are slaughtered and burned that night. LaHaye paints himself as a sort of smug variant: "I foretell the end, YOU won't listen, so nya-nah-nah-nah-nah, I'll show you. *raspberry*"

Ah, thanks all. Makes sense now.

I used to be more up on my Greek mythology, or maybe I just need to get my Google-Fu up to speed.

Who would this Bruce Barnes be? What would he look like? And would be be able to detect a non-Christian at a glance?

Did he memorize Detect Alignment last night?

The authors apparently imagine that his is a common question unbelievers have about RTC clergy: Does their non-Christian detection power work at a single glance, or does it require physical contact?

Is it just me, or do LaHaye and Jenkins borrow a lot from the late great Gygax for people who presumably think D&D is evil?

They tell us that the God they believe in is good, just and loving. But the God they show us is a bloodthirsty, capricious, evil monstrosity.

I have always been interested in the differences between God as described and God as demonstrated. I have been rereading a translation of the bible based exclusively on the J text, and I noticed that during His first conversation with Adam and Eve, God blatantly lies to them, and the serpent tells them the truth. Yet despite this, we are supposed to believe that God is the good guy and the serpent is evil.

I also find it interesting that Abraham is able to negotiate with God in Sodom's defense, implying a notion of god most fundamentalists would be dead-set against. Unfortunately, he only haggles the deal down to ten good men. If he'd gone to one, the town would have been safe, and I suspect history would be quite different.

Carl: I've been on both sides of the same argument. The usual rebuttal is that god's perfect justice requires that humans (utterly worthless, corrupt, evil humans) to be eternally condemned, and that it's a huge outpouring of mercy that god save any of us.

Yes ... and I've responded that as judge, God must be able to grant mercy if He so chooses. Without this ability, He lacks true judicial powers, and therefore, omnipotence.

Dan: I wonder if he has that on his business cards?

Tim LaHaye
Author, Theologian, Christian Speaker
Presiding Judge Over all Humanity

Available at Reasonable Rates for Consultation in
Wheat/Tares Identification Analysis
Sheep/Goats Division and Organization
Left/Right Linear Placement Assessment
__________________________

Plus when the rabbi shows up at those interfaith meetings, they ask you not to mention Jesus when you pray, and you know the spell doesn't work if you don't say "in Jesus name."

I've had some contact with military chaplains, and my sense is that rabbis generally don't ask such a thing, especially not on their own behalf. They simply rely on the good manners of the Christians who are present. It's understood that the person praying is approaching the Deity within the context of his/her own faith tradition. There actually are a lot of Christian clergy, especially in the chaplaincy, who are willing to drop the "in Jesus' name" or change it to the ambiguous "in Your Holy Name we pray" when non-Christians are present. Not, as a rule, the conservative ones, though.

"I have been rereading a translation of the bible based exclusively on the J text..."

Sorry, I've been meaning to edit that thing for several millennia now. ;-)

Davis X: In one small Maine town near here, there's a 'Bible-Believing Baptist Church', which name I love, because of the imputation that the other local Baptist Churches aren't

Near our neighborhood is an "Evangelical Free Church." When we pass by, I've jokingly asked my wife whether it means that the church is no cost for Evangelicals ... or whether it has been cleansed of Evangelicals.

Who would this Bruce Barnes be? What would he look like? And would be be able to detect a non-Christian at a glance?

Could he turn wights at a 60' distance?

How about the power to kill a yak from 200 yards away...WITH MIND BULLETS!?

Man, I played a Paladin for the first time in January. It sucked -- turn undead doesn't cause them to burst into flames or *anything*. They just run away. Feh. It's back to Rogues and Bards for me.

Froborr, it depends on the level difference and how well you roll. My Paladin, Taegyra of Sunny Dale, rolled a nat 20 on a turn check against a bunch of skeletons once. The skeletons were around CR 3-4; Taegyra was level 6. There was nothing left but a pile of bone dust, and she never laid a finger on the things.

If I ever saw a building labeled simply "Church," I would be forced to assume it was a nightclub.

And would be be able to detect a non-Christian at a glance?

The authors apparently imagine that his is a common question unbelievers have about RTC clergy: Does their non-Christian detection power work at a single glance, or does it require physical contact?

I can't figure out why anyone would ever think this. Nor can I figure out why the authors would think that anyone would ever think this. It's not just wrong, it's bewilderingly wrong.

You know, since these are the Worst Books Ever Written, I hate to admit that L&J might have gotten something sort of right here. But I think maybe they have. Probably by accident.

In my experience many Christians *do* act like they have some kind of Christ-dar. If they initially think you're one of them and find out they're wrong, you'll get the "you're not a Christian? But you're so nice!" reaction. Or, they just assume you're *not* one of them because of your mohawk or your black leather jacket.

I think they *think* they can tell because "they'll know we are Christians by our love." But it's really, "they'll know we are Christians by our sincere-looking haircuts."

And maybe, "they'll know we are skeptics by the way we fold our arms and smirk at otherwise inappropriate moments."

Of course, I'm not sure anybody would actually be *worried* about this, unless you have reason to believe the Christians are like pod people or zombies or something and will hunt you down and kill you if they think you're not one of them.

And the *really* baffling, *really* telling thing here is why Buck seems to be thinking of himself as a "non-Christian." He believes all that stuff now, right? So he *is* a Christian. The only way in which he is not a Christian is that he is not yet fully indoctrinated with all the requisite cultural cues -- the magic words and the sincere haircut.

Man, I played a Paladin for the first time in January. It sucked -- turn undead doesn't cause them to burst into flames or *anything*.

I always liked the Japan-themed D&D campaign I played back in the day. The DM offered us the chance to play miko. They can't turn undead, but what they can do is bless a particular patch of ground or building (larger as you go up in level) to permanently exclude all undead and demons. A fairly kick-ass ability.

If I ever saw a building labeled simply "Church," I would be forced to assume it was a nightclub.

There's a club in Atlanta called the Tabernacle. My wife and I were there last about seven years ago, to see Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. Don't know if it's still around or not. I could Goggle it but come on, it's Friday afternoon!

The authors apparently imagine that his is a common question unbelievers have about RTC clergy: Does their non-Christian detection power work at a single glance, or does it require physical contact?

I can't figure out why anyone would ever think this. Nor can I figure out why the authors would think that anyone would ever think this. It's not just wrong, it's bewilderingly wrong.

For normal people, yes. But this is actually common among walkaways from Neopentecostal (Fundamentalist) circles. We really do fear-- particularly when first leaving the movement-- that RTC clergy will know at a glance that we are not Real True Christians.

This culture of fear helps to drive the movement. The movement cannot effectively maintain an adequate influx of "new blood", if you'll excuse the pun. Most people are too smart to remain uncritical of the excesses of ignorance that pervade the movement. So the Neopentecostal movement has developed a culture of fear and shunning to ensure an emotional state in followers that will either override healthy skepticism or damage those who successfully walk away.

Given LB's mainstream "popularity", it's a fair guess that L&J employed the culture of fear to drive the story as well. Of course, it's hard to say whether this was deliberate or a happy (for their wallets, anyway) accident resulting from being in that culture for so long.

In my experience many Christians *do* act like they have some kind of Christ-dar. If they initially think you're one of them and find out they're wrong, you'll get the "you're not a Christian? But you're so nice!" reaction. Or, they just assume you're *not* one of them because of your mohawk or your black leather jacket.

I think it's more that they assume that all "normal" people are Christian. I get this a lot in my neighborhood. There are a number of very conservative Christians who simply assume that I am one of them and will happily babble on in that assumption for hours.

I generally let them keep this belief just because it's easier. Luckily when they find out that I have a job outside the home and a two year old daughter, they usually back away quietly. Good Christian Mommies are all stay at home mothers.

Keith, it's still around -- although I believe it narrowly escaped the tornados from last weekend. I saw Stabbing Westward there a few years back.

My favorite interpretation of Hell is the one from C.S. Lewis's "The Great Divorce". Basically, Hell isn't some place with flames and demons with pitchforks and so on that you get chucked into. Rather, it's a place where all the pettiness and selfishness from this world is magnified until that's all that's going on. The scariest part is that some people can't tell the difference between it and their life on Earth.

And it's somewhere you choose to go, because the alternative requires you to give up the part of you that likes to wallow in the pettiness and selfishness. And for some people, that's all there is left of them. In the book, the damned get regular tours of heaven, with their loved ones begging them to stay. They never do.

As far as the difference between God-as-presented and God-as-demonstrated, I strongly recommend Bart Ehrman's recent God's Problem, though the subtitle somewhat misrepresents the contents (he does not ultimately reject all Biblical interpretations of suffering, just the theistic and dualistic ones).

I've never understood that argument about "perfect justice". A human is a finite being, and therefore any evil committed by that human is necessarily also finite (as is any good). Infinite punishment for finite crime is unjust, and therefore a perfectly just deity would not subject any human to eternal torment.

I've always much preferred the Jewish-folkloric concept of Gehenna, which is an unimaginably terrible place to which most people go when they die for sentences of a few seconds up to a maximum penalty of one year, after which they've served their time and go to Eden.

But, as mentioned in another thread, I dislike the whole idea of life after death. It seems to rather rob this life of purpose.

rm: So the Baptist lady got up and drove to church one Sunday, only to find that the parking lot was empty. A chill ran down her spine as she realized she was . . . left behind!!! What had she done, how had she sinned, to miss the Rapture? Then she looked across the street and saw that the Methodist parking lot was also empty. "Whew," she thought with relief. "I forgot that Daylight Savings Time ended today."

Even as a paragraph, that's worth of Right Behind.

Also, on Cassandra, note also that she was a prophet of doom, which is what I think that Fred's alluding to.

While Cassandra is in the overmind -- she specifically got cursed with foresight no-one would believe because she wouldn't give in to Apollo's seduction. I can't remember Apollo ever successfully seducing anyone, which is odd in a beautiful divinity of music. But now it makes sense: he talked to them like Buck.

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