Okay, a bit of background first.
Gary Goodyear, the Federal Science Minister, was asked in an interview whether or not he believed in evolution. (Presumably, what was meant by this is the Theory of Evolution, not the concept.) He evaded the question - with cause, considering the hue and cry that could have been raised by the left had he even mentioned the word 'creationism' - and there was much gasping and shaking of heads. "Oh no!" people said. "Imagine! The minister of Science doesn't believe in evolution!"
There was a brief brouhaha on the topic, especially in the Globe and Mail (who also claim that the Theory of Evolution is a scientific fact; it is many things, but not that), but the article I was really interested in was this one (Jonathan Kay, National Post):
"...And please, no letters from readers complaining about yet another "gaffe" from a "socially conservative" Conservative "reawakening fears" about a "secret agenda." Unless Canadians expect their politicians to lie about their own personal beliefs, there was no gaffe here--just a journo-concocted pseudo-scandal aimed at the one group in society that is fair game for abuse in the mainstream Canadian media: white, male, English Christians. (Can anyone imagine the Globe pulling the same stunt against, say, a devout Muslim, or a Sikh, or a Quebecois Catholic or an aboriginal who believes the Earth was given to us by the Creator?) If it becomes a real scandal, it will be solely due to the Toronto media's own echo chamber -- not anything Goodyear actually said."
White, male, English Christians. So true.
As a side note, let it be known that I'm not sure I completely support Goodyear's view on the topic, because his reply when asked if he believed in evolution was: "I'm not going to answer that question. I am a Christian, and I don't think anybody asking a question about my religion is appropriate." Well, it wasn't really a question of his religion, in fairness. You can be a supporter of Intelligent Design without being a Christian at all, and his response implies that his view is unscientific and therefore not relevant in a scientific discussion.
However, that doesn't change the conclusion in the least. The fact that Gary Goodyear is a Christian does not in the least make him unfit to be the Minister of Science.
Showing posts with label Christianity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christianity. Show all posts
18 March 2009
07 January 2009
Since when is the existence of God subject to probability?
They have free speech, same as me. But please show me the study that can prove God's existence as unlikely.
“There’s probably no God,” the advertisements say. “Now stop worrying and enjoy your life.”
I like my life fine, thanks.
“There’s probably no God,” the advertisements say. “Now stop worrying and enjoy your life.”
I like my life fine, thanks.
25 December 2008
Happy and sad
Tonight we went to the Carols by Candlelight service at church.
It's a strange thing, the Christmas Eve service. While many people you know are there, those who live in the surrounding neighborhoods and seldom attend church except for Christmas and Easter come as well, and it feels bigger and a little more alien. But not in a bad way.
Everyone received their little white candle, and we all proceeded to hold them throughout the service - short and sweet, with carols and songs and a little message from the pastor. My little sister got impatient at one point and motioned for me to lean down so she could whisper in my ear, "When do we get to light the candles?"
The fire hazard jokes abound, so we didn't until the very end.
I've always loved Christmas. I don't know if it was the same when I was little, but for me the stuff is a little peripheral. I love the decorations. I love the anticipation. I love eggnog and gingerbread. And I love knowing, just for a little while, that Christmas spirit means something to people. To paraphrase what my dad said recently, it's an achievement that Jesus, over two thousand years later, continues to have a holiday in his name that stands for peace on earth and goodwill toward men. Christmas makes me happy; I bounce when I hear songs on the radio and play them on the piano and sing them while I wash the dishes, and I wear Santa hats, and I anticipate like a little kid.
But when we lit the candles at the end of that service, all of them from the white candle in the middle of the Advent wreath - the one called the Messiah candle - it was bittersweet, somehow, to watch the lights go off and watch the candle flames multiply. Then our pastor talked about how God could have done this in a much more magnificent way. He could have proclaimed to the whole world, beyond doubt, that his Son had come to save us. But he wants us to do it. He wants us to tell the news and pass along our candle flames, one soul at a time. They're so fragile. But one candle goes to another goes to another, and before long everyone's is lit.
It's late and my thoughts are fragmented, but this does tie in, I promise.
Luke 16:19-35
"There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and lived in luxury every day. At his gate was laid a beggar named Lazarus, covered with sores and longing to eat what fell from the rich man's table. Even the dogs came and licked his sores.
"The time came when the beggar died and the angels carried him to Abraham's side. The rich man also died and was buried. In hell, where he was in torment, he looked up and saw Abraham far away, with Lazarus by his side. So he called to him, 'Father Abraham, have pity on me and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, because I am in agony in this fire.'
"But Abraham replied, 'Son, remember that in your lifetime you received your good things, while Lazarus received bad things, but now he is comforted here and you are in agony. And besides all this, between us and you a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who want to go from here to you cannot, nor can anyone cross over from there to us.'
"He answered, 'Then I beg you, father, send Lazarus to my father's house, for I have five brothers. Let him warn them, so that they will not also come to this place of torment.'
"Abraham replied, 'They have Moses and the Prophets; let them listen to them.'
" 'No, father Abraham,' he said, 'but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.'
"He said to him, 'If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.' "
What I take from this story - and I don't know whether it's a story or a parable, but the meaning remains - is this: If we can look from Heaven to Hell, or Paradise to Hades, across the chasm, that means that every soul I knew whose candle flame was never lit will be there, on that other side.
I can't think of it without tearing up. I'm sitting here, typing this, trying not to cry. I'm thinking of standing there, in heaven, knowing that there is an uncrossable chasm between me and the people I knew and loved, and that there is no hope for them. Not any more.
Those are my thoughts tonight. Joy and sorrow. I'm so indescribably full of life and love and I'm so blessed and I could jump up and down and scream, but even with the joy comes knowledge that maybe some of those flames won't be lit.
Maybe you're reading this and you think I'm stupid and religious and I'm upset over nothing.
I pray that one day I'm not looking across at you. I pray that you'll be standing beside me.
Love life. Love life eternal.
Merry Christmas.
It's a strange thing, the Christmas Eve service. While many people you know are there, those who live in the surrounding neighborhoods and seldom attend church except for Christmas and Easter come as well, and it feels bigger and a little more alien. But not in a bad way.
Everyone received their little white candle, and we all proceeded to hold them throughout the service - short and sweet, with carols and songs and a little message from the pastor. My little sister got impatient at one point and motioned for me to lean down so she could whisper in my ear, "When do we get to light the candles?"
The fire hazard jokes abound, so we didn't until the very end.
I've always loved Christmas. I don't know if it was the same when I was little, but for me the stuff is a little peripheral. I love the decorations. I love the anticipation. I love eggnog and gingerbread. And I love knowing, just for a little while, that Christmas spirit means something to people. To paraphrase what my dad said recently, it's an achievement that Jesus, over two thousand years later, continues to have a holiday in his name that stands for peace on earth and goodwill toward men. Christmas makes me happy; I bounce when I hear songs on the radio and play them on the piano and sing them while I wash the dishes, and I wear Santa hats, and I anticipate like a little kid.
But when we lit the candles at the end of that service, all of them from the white candle in the middle of the Advent wreath - the one called the Messiah candle - it was bittersweet, somehow, to watch the lights go off and watch the candle flames multiply. Then our pastor talked about how God could have done this in a much more magnificent way. He could have proclaimed to the whole world, beyond doubt, that his Son had come to save us. But he wants us to do it. He wants us to tell the news and pass along our candle flames, one soul at a time. They're so fragile. But one candle goes to another goes to another, and before long everyone's is lit.
It's late and my thoughts are fragmented, but this does tie in, I promise.
Luke 16:19-35
"There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and lived in luxury every day. At his gate was laid a beggar named Lazarus, covered with sores and longing to eat what fell from the rich man's table. Even the dogs came and licked his sores.
"The time came when the beggar died and the angels carried him to Abraham's side. The rich man also died and was buried. In hell, where he was in torment, he looked up and saw Abraham far away, with Lazarus by his side. So he called to him, 'Father Abraham, have pity on me and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, because I am in agony in this fire.'
"But Abraham replied, 'Son, remember that in your lifetime you received your good things, while Lazarus received bad things, but now he is comforted here and you are in agony. And besides all this, between us and you a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who want to go from here to you cannot, nor can anyone cross over from there to us.'
"He answered, 'Then I beg you, father, send Lazarus to my father's house, for I have five brothers. Let him warn them, so that they will not also come to this place of torment.'
"Abraham replied, 'They have Moses and the Prophets; let them listen to them.'
" 'No, father Abraham,' he said, 'but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.'
"He said to him, 'If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.' "
What I take from this story - and I don't know whether it's a story or a parable, but the meaning remains - is this: If we can look from Heaven to Hell, or Paradise to Hades, across the chasm, that means that every soul I knew whose candle flame was never lit will be there, on that other side.
I can't think of it without tearing up. I'm sitting here, typing this, trying not to cry. I'm thinking of standing there, in heaven, knowing that there is an uncrossable chasm between me and the people I knew and loved, and that there is no hope for them. Not any more.
Those are my thoughts tonight. Joy and sorrow. I'm so indescribably full of life and love and I'm so blessed and I could jump up and down and scream, but even with the joy comes knowledge that maybe some of those flames won't be lit.
Maybe you're reading this and you think I'm stupid and religious and I'm upset over nothing.
I pray that one day I'm not looking across at you. I pray that you'll be standing beside me.
Love life. Love life eternal.
Merry Christmas.
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