Paul Movie (the alien, not the saint)

Paul MovieSimon Pegg and Nick Frost have been responsible for some entertaining stuff. Their breakthrough series, Spaced, was excellent and their movies have been pretty good too. The video store box of Paul promised that this was not only a must-see, but also a must-own. So I took a shot.

My expectations were pretty low, and Frost and Pegg just about managed to live up to them. There were a fair number of laughs (‘No, Boomer, it is forbidden’ was a high point) and it was watchable enough from start to finish. They had also secured a very respectable supporting cast. However the film obviously developed out of a gist of an idea (“What if some sci-fi nerds actually run in to the original Roswell alien and have to help him get home?”) rather than a fully formed story, and so translating it into 90 minutes of film unfortunately led them to cut-and-paste their handful of good ideas into a cliched and predictable format. The humour relies far too often on people saying naughty words or trundling through standard situational set-pieces. If you’ve seen more than one movie in your life, you know how it’s going to end.

What irked the most, however, was the polemic against Christianity. I don’t mind atheist anti-religious commentary per se, and in a film about two good-natured Brits adrift in the American Mid-West (I think?), I suppose religious themes were an obvious choice. It’s just that the way it was done was an insult to intelligence.

The three characters on the poster arrive in a caravan park that happens to be owned by a fanatical right-wing Christian—complete with rifle, pictures of Jesus in his house, and repeated calls to Bible study—and his beautiful-but-one-eyed daughter. Through circumstance, she has to come along with them. Somehow evolution comes up, leading to the daughter babbling about the world being 4,000 years old, etc. etc (I think even the most young-earthiest Christians argue for 50% longer than that). At this point, Paul the alien comes out of hiding, downloads all of his knowledge about the universe into her head, and frees her from her religious ignorance. She discovers with relief that she can now curse (hence the reliance on swearing humour), fornicate and so on. They generously claim that Paul’s existence doesn’t disprove all notions of god, just the Judeo-Christian ideas. Paul also uses his special alien powers to take her eye deformity upon himself and conquer it, healing her and thereby showing that she has received full ‘sight’ (and probably that you, like Paul, can be good without God. Or something).

I appreciate the attempt at padding deepening the storyline with social commentary. But what’s so especially irritating about all of this is that they construct the straw-manniest of Christian opponents and then proceed to knock it over and ridicule it and draw moral conclusions from it on the basis of science-fiction. ‘My alien says your religion is stupid’.

Headscratch

*blink*

There are so many interesting and funny and true things that could be said about religion in the West, or in favour of atheism, or even just in exploration of the consequences of having found aliens. Instead they went lazy and cheap, as they did with rest of the story, and it utterly ruins whatever good ideas provoked them to start writing in the first place.

You made me wish I’d rented Captain America or Harry Potter 8, Pegg and Frost. You should be ashamed of yourselves.

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2011 at George Whitefield College

GWCA number of friends have been responsible for helping to finance my three-year stint at the Student Y on the UCT campus, and now more recently my work at George Whitefield College. I was in the habit of sending newsletters to these kind people, but I have not done so for a while (for a few uninteresting reasons). So what follows is the first experiment with a newsletter-blog crossover, because perhaps even some of those who don’t know me might like to hear about the college. It’s a little college with a big job for Africa, so you might be interested…

Not only a Thanksgiving bird

TurkeyThe handful of students that we had not managed to entirely kill with overwork during the year decided to club together and go on a short mission to a partner church in Turkey. Turkey is fairly hostile towards Christianity, so I’m certain it will be an eye-opening visit when compared with complacent South Africa. We trust they’ll return safely and write their story for us. It’ll be on the GWC site in the new year, I’m sure.

My studies

One of my major tasks at college is to study up and become less of an idiot. Seeing as the former part of that is measurable, I’ll tell you how that is going. The short answer is ‘not well’, but allow me to elaborate. I’m busy with a Masters degree in Old Testament Biblical Studies at Stellenbosch University, and officially I’ve been at it for two years. I completed some the necessary course work and reading reviews last year, and this year I was meant to get down to the thesis itself. The first semester was devoted to writing a 300-page course on introduction to the Old Testament for GWC, which left no time for other things. When that was done, I rushed my research proposal through to meet the July deadline, without having done the kind of work it needed, and since then I have been discovering exactly how many rookie mistakes I make and how little I know. I managed to write two chapters, both of which have been entirely rewritten three times, and the second needs to go back to the drawing board again.

When the whole thing is finished, I will hopefully have written something interesting about how the OT understands prosperity and how we should carry it forward into Church life.

There have been other distractions from my studies, including:

A New Website

The GWC website had always looked like it was for a low-cost 1990s Mozambican short-sea shipping company, and after I had moaned incessantly about how long it was taking to have it redesigned, Sigrid and I somehow inherited the job of getting it up to code. The proposed new look that had been languishing in the development phase was not well liked or functioning ideally, so we chose a new template and managed to relaunch fairly quickly. After discovering some inoperable problems with that template, we chose a newer, shinier one, which is now working well and growing.

Remedial classes

Joc and Barry

Jocelyn and Barry: Obviously special needs.

Another thing that’s kept me busy has been remedial classes for some of our students. It’s become increasingly clear that we demand things from our students that we expect they will have learned at school (rhetorical and essay-writing skills, for example), but we have little or no plan for those students who have not developed these skills. Many of our students, especially the non-English students, have been struggling with high-level courses as a result. One successful fix was to begin the year with mandatory English testing for the first time, and we then streamed some students into an English course taught by a professional ESL teacher. I volunteered to offer some tutorials for doctrine courses with a focus upon the skills necessary to process doctrinal information, rather than merely reteaching the content. It was very clear that this kind of help is urgently needed, and as early in the curriculum as possible, so I hope to get a skills-based remedial course into the 1st Year programme next year, but I haven’t worked out how to sneak it in yet.

Next year’s classes

With some of our senior faculty on sabbatical in the 2nd semester next year, I have picked up the responsibility for 1st Year Greek (84 lectures!) and 2nd Year OT Exegesis in addition to my usual courses. I’m looking forward to more teaching, but it will mean stricter discipline in my thesis work. Right now I’m giving exactly no thought to thesis or lecture load, and paying more attention to doing nothing (or—during office hours—reworking an old writing project that’s been on my personal to-do list for 2 years).

Church movements

For various reasons (travel difficulty and ministry opportunity being two) we’ve decided in conjunction with leadership of both churches to move from St James in Kenilworth to St Peters in Fishhoek.

We’ve been at St James for 12 good years, and it really has been a life-changing experience being there. I went there on my first Sunday after moving to Cape Town to humour a friend from back home who said I should visit. Having come from a tiny family church of baptist leanings, I had wandered into an Anglican church of 2,000 members that used a prayer book and happened to be having a thing that involved children wandering down the aisles waving flags to loud music. They may have even baptised some babies that day, although to be fair I’m certain I would have run off if they had. I hated it a lot until the sermon, which made me quickly realise that I needed to give them another chance. I never looked back.

The teaching and encouragement that I have received at St James has been directly responsible for draining my taste for graphic design and getting me excited about teaching the Bible. In the early years, I was bringing my housemate to services, because she said she’d lift me, and she got converted under St James teaching too. As a result of that day 12 years or so ago, I’m now teaching at the denomination’s training College and married to my housemate with two small daughters. I wonder what I’d be doing now if I had run off that Sunday?

Christmas greetings

Thanks to all those who are supporting me at the college, or even just supporting the college in general. I think GWC is a great investment, and I’m happy that you’re sharing in what we’re doing. Have a great Christmas.

Possible Worlds

Passing judgement is taboo in many circles these days, with many denying that we have the right or the ability to tell others what they ought to do or think. Two thousand year old wisdom lends some (limited) support to this view, saying ‘Judge not lest you be judged’.

The reason for this perspective is not hard to understand. Someone is only equipped to be a judge if they have sufficient knowledge and experience to know what are the relevant facts, and if they have keen enough insight / foresight to know what is the correct verdict. We allow judges to preside over courtrooms because they know the law better than anyone else, they have served with distinction for a long enough period, and because we don’t have a better alternative. Judgement requires superior knowledge and perspective, and while professional judges may do well enough in their limited field, most people do not possess these qualities about most things. So we rightly give them flak when they presume to try.

It is all the more remarkable to me, therefore, that the same species that produces Jerry Springer and MacDonald’s and automatically flushing toilets feels capable of judging God. I don’t mean that we’re always critical of God—sometimes we pass judgement with the best of intentions—I just mean that we somehow imagine that we have the brain-power to crunch the numbers involved in such a judgement, or the platform from which to gain the proper perspective.

God Should Choose Everyone
For example—and those who don’t know or care about Calvinism can skip ahead here—I was having a discussion with my wife earlier in the week about the age-old complaint that if God is the one who chooses whom He will save (rather than we being the ones who decisively choose Him), then why doesn’t He just save everyone (the implication being that God should save everyone if it’s just up Him).

Romans 9 has some answers to that objection that I’m not going to go into here, but that chapter also includes the following line, which seems at first blush to be the desperate retort of an authoritarian who doesn’t like the way that the conversation is going:

You will say to me then, ‘Why does He still find fault? For who can resist His will?’ But who are you, O man, to answer back to God? (Romans 9:19f)

However, Paul’s response is not a dismissive ‘because I said so’. He’s merely pointing out that the things under discussion require from us a capacity that we can never possess. So consider the objection that God should save everyone if He is able. This requires of us the ability to correctly imagine a world history in which everyone becomes a genuine believer. What are the implications for freedom, faith, discipleship? Would there be adversity? Would testing be experienced as genuine? Would we become the kind of creatures that we should? Would we learn to know the things about God that are most important (‘mercy’ in Romans 9 thinking)? We may guess at the answers to such questions, but we simply cannot construct a world in our minds in which we can fully grasp and correctly judge the effect of changing so crucial a variable. Even time travellers in the stories only find out the effect of their changes on history once they go back to the future; who has the power to predict such things? Who are we to answer back indeed?

Universe-sized Number-crunching
I find this sort of judgement to be especially prevalent in atheist rhetoric. I’ve heard it argued on many occasions that a world presided over by Zeus or Ra or Yahweh would look markedly different from our own. I have no quibble with the idea that ruling powers of different character would produce worlds of different kinds, but I have significant problems with the idea that people are able to imagine these worlds in any sort of helpful way. The idea that anyone is capable of fully capturing in their minds a picture of the ‘world as it is’ and another picture of ‘the world as it would be’ if there were an interventionist God (or whatever) in charge is absurd (not forgetting that these pictures also require a complete comprehension of the deity in question). Satisfying yourself that God doesn’t exist because you know how things would be if He did is a self-deceit that would be best abandoned sooner rather than later.

Show Thyself
If you do insist upon trying to reimagine the universe in this way, turning the ‘god variables’ on and off to see what happens, I would humbly suggest the following for your consideration, as I believe that this is one misunderstanding of how God (if He exists) operates / ought to operate in our world (if He does). People object that if God is there, why does He hide himself? Why not schedule coffee with me next Tuesday, God, and settle this existence thing once and for all? Perhaps make a TV appearance on Jerry Springer? [That show has to be cancelled by now, but I’m not going to check].

Of course there’s a sense in which this is a valid complaint, and must be partially true. If the Bible is in any way historical, then God has made some miraculous shows of power to people in the past, and could do so for the cameras (although would we really believe our eyes?). On the other hand, maybe He’s not so much hidden as we are blind to his presence. Or let me put it another way.

We conceive of the world as ‘natural’ and God as ‘supernatural’. The world gets on with things by itself, and God is somewhere nearby looking in, tinkering now and then, and just generally keeping out of sight to see what we’ll do. We conceive of the ‘natural world’ as an environment in which we (for the sake of argument) demand that God appears. I do not think that this is remotely correct. The world is more like a tool than an environment. The universe is not a stage on which God should appear; theologically, God is the environment in which the universe exists.

What this means practically is that the ordinary, day-to-day operation of the ‘natural world’ is the normal tool that God uses to get His work done; the miraculous is not. Miracles serve a significant purpose of their own, but God gets His work done without them. The book of Esther is dominated by this theme, that ordinary schemes and coincidences produce a remarkable deliverance—God’s bidding is done even though His name, His voice, and His supernature are never once invoked in Esther’s pages.

Likewise, today we call the conversion of an unbeliever to Christianity a ‘miracle’ and it is, but it rarely comes about through means other than ordinary people talking to each other and one of them changing his mind. In my childhood we had many occasions in which we had no food, and our prayers were answered by friends giving us some of theirs. It was an amazing answer to prayer on one hand, but as ordinary as you like on the other.

So perhaps God is disinclined to make a miraculous show of His existence to every skeptic, and His reasons for that are known to Him. But perhaps the search for God is being undertaken by people who are expecting to find Him hidden in the environment, rather than seeing His daily use of the ‘ordinary world’ as a tool. It’s not that He’s hard to see; it’s just that the blind are pretty bad at spotting much of anything.