Crown & Cross Columbia’s Journal of Christian Thought
The Columbia
Crown & Cross Fall 2015
S TA F F
C ON T RI BU TOR S
EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
STAFF EDITORS
E S S AYS
Marcos Martinez CC’16
WEBMASTER
Lindsey Gonzalez CC’17 Phil Jeffery CC’17 Raymond Li CC’17 Titus Willis CC’18 Crystal Ren CC’19
Anji Zhao SEAS’16
ONLINE EDITORS
BUSINESS MANAGER
Sofia Hsieh CC’17 Johanan Sowah SEAS’17 Pauline Morgan CC’18
McKenna Gilliland CC’17 Sofia Hsieh CC’17 Phil Jeffery CC’17 Johanan Sowah SEAS’17 Jennifer Yu CC’17 Isaac Bautista CC’18 Hope Chang CC’18 Titus Willis CC’18 Luis Alvarado CC’19
MANAGING EDITOR Emily Lau CC’17
Andy Truelove CC’17
LAYOUT EDITORS Rachel Chung BC’16 Momoh Osilama CC’16 Joy Pai CC’16 Asia Cunningham BC’17 Victoria Fernandez SEAS’17 Teresa Choe CC’18
P OE M S Momoh Osilama CC’16 Kenna Arana CC’17 Emily Lau CC’17 Sunny Chen CC’19
P H OTO G R A P H Y Andrea Arellano CC’17 Emily Lau CC’17 James Xue SEAS’17 Hope Chang CC’18 Rebecca Ohaeri CC’18
If you are interested in getting involved, e-mail us at columbiacrowncross@gmail.com Check out our blog and print issues online at crowncross.org Like our Facebook page: facebook.com/columbiacrowncross Special thanks to the Collegiate Network Cover Photo from Unsplash.com Inside Back Cover Photo from Emily Lau
A Letter from the Editors We live in a material world and most of our daily concerns are material—from deciding what to wear on a given day to finding ways to support ourselves financially. Some believe that there is nothing beyond this material world, and therefore consider life on Earth to be everything. Christianity, however, is built upon a different understanding. We maintain that there is life beyond what our physical senses can perceive, and that our faith calls us to be aware of the eternal implications of our actions. Yet our material needs, and oftentimes our desires, are no different from those of people who hold different beliefs. Reconciling these heavenly and earthly outlooks is challenging, especially at times when they appear to come into conflict with one another. Hence, in this issue, we want to explore the theme “Heaven and Earth.” Our contributors ponder the significance of life on Earth, the conceptions of Heaven, and the dynamic relationship between Earth and Heaven. McKenna Gilliland explores how our knowledge of outer space has changed our perception of Heaven in “Heaven and (Beyond) Earth: Space and the New Spiritual Saga of Humankind.” Hope Chang, in “Animate Morality: Sacrifice and Atonement,” examines the logic behind how physical sacrifices can make reparations for spiritual wrongs, and Titus Willis evokes Ecclesiastes’ Solomon to argue that our generation cannot achieve earthly utopia in “Under the Sun.” These are just a few highlights of the many thoughtful essays and poems that comprise this issue. Although Heaven might seem like a distant place, a tenuous promise, or simply wishful thinking, the Bible assures us of its existence. In the Gospel of John, Jesus tells His disciples: “Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also. And you know the way to where I am going” (John 14:1–4). When sin seemed to tear Heaven and Earth irreparably apart, Jesus, through His sacrifice and resurrection, became the bridge between them. As the apostle Paul writes in Colossians 1:17, “He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together.” We maintain that only through Christ, who overcame the power of sin and death, do we have the hope of Heaven. We welcome people of all faiths to read this issue and join us as we contemplate questions about our present life and the afterlife. Our team has had a wonderful time putting this issue together, and we hope that you find something within these pages that stimulates further thought. To God be the Glory,
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ESSAYS Heaven and (Beyond) Earth: Space and the New Spiritual 5 Saga of Humankind McKenna Gilliland Animate Morality: Sacrifice 8 and Atonement Hope Chang Bread Alone: Earth, Heaven, and Politics 12 in the Wilderness Phil Jeffery 15
POETRY 20
My Fathers in Heaven Kenna Arana
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If My Faith Is a Flower Sunny Chen
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As It Is in Heaven Momoh Osilama
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Death’s Knock Emily Lau
A Promise for Heaven Luis Alvarado
I Am Who I Am: The Hypermodern Identity and 17 Christianity Jennifer Yu Quasars, Pulsars, Black 24 Holes, and God Isaac Bautista 27
Under the Sun Titus Willis
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Running Toward Christ Johanan Sowah
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To a Friend in Dark Days Sofia Hsieh Fall 2015
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Heaven and (Beyond) Earth:
Space and the New Spiritual McKenna Gilliland Saga of Humankind
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ook around you. There are seven billion people in the world. Fifty thousand cities. One billion cars on sixty-nine billion roads. We humans, as the progenitors of this crowded world, are the undisputed masters of Earth. We have filled up its lands, conquered its creatures, and carved out its resources for consumption. It was God Himself who made this so: He gave us dominion over the fish in the sea, the birds in the sky, and the animals on the land. Placing us over everything He had created, He told us to multiply and subdue. And, sitting in Heaven as we stood on Earth, He said that it was good.1 The Bible tells us that “in the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.”2 But this great binary universe, as the early biblical writers thought of it—featuring a clean duo of God in Heaven and humans living down on Earth—does not actually exist. This conception of the universe has been radically altered through human exploration and discovery. When modern humans look up at the sky on a clear, dark night, we do not see God’s kingdom, with God seated “above the circle of the 1 2
5
Genesis 1:26–31 (ESV). Genesis 1:1.
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earth,” as Isaiah asserted Him to be.3 We see the expanse of outer space: a dominion that is not Heaven, as the old astronomers used to think, but a realm of incomparable nothingness, a place of which the Bible gives us almost no knowledge and over which God never dispensed any control to us.
This conception of the universe has been radically altered through human exploration and discovery. For people of faith, space can be an utterly crushing concept, presenting questions that we do not have the power to answer: Does Heaven exist at all? If so, where is it? In the vast reaches of blackness that for millennia humans hardly knew existed? Science has long since disproven Plato’s theory of aether and Ptolemy’s concept of celestial spheres, but it has not provided us with any new hypotheses for the nature of the relationship between Heaven and Earth. Most contemporary believers have given up hope 3
Isaiah 40:22.
of finding answers about God and Heaven in space, and I would not argue against the difficulty of that pursuit. I would argue, though, that looking to and interacting with space with the aim of seeking God is essential for the modern Christian life. In our era of space exploration, looking for God up in the sky is something we can no longer do. Yet although it collapses that ancient relationship of Heaven and Earth, the reality of space still teaches us valuable lessons about the relationship between humans and God. These lessons may seem simple and even obvious; nonetheless, they are ones we too often forget. The first of these lessons is about God’s nature. God is infinite— immense and incomprehensible. This statement will strike even the newest Christian as gratuitous. But space, in our quest to comprehend the nature of God, is a complete game-changer. The vastness of the universe, as we now have come to understand it, places us closer than ever before to grasping the ungraspable fact of God’s infinity. In times when the universe as we knew it only encompassed Earth, we could not even fully wrap our minds around His size. We knew only that God was so big that our whole planet was His footstool.4 But now, in light of the fact that the edge of the observable universe (meaning the portion of the universe that is only as far as our measurements can see) is 435 sextillion kilometers away, we can shift our estimate of God’s vastness a fraction closer to His real, infinite size.5 The incomprehensible expanse of space challenges us to imagine how much greater its Creator must be. Looking to space has further taught humans a lesson about our own nature. In comparison to the whole Earth, humans are infinitesimally small. But when pit4
Isaiah 66:1. “Space Race,” BBC Future, 9 Nov. 2015, http://www.bbc.com/future/ bespoke/20140304-how-big-is-space-interactive/. 5
ted against the universe that outer space has revealed to us in the modern age, human life seems even smaller. Therefore space, in its immensity, reminds us of how small and inconsequential we are. It prompts us to think again about the truth that we have always been told: that in comparison to God’s realm and his plan for the universe, we are but “grasshoppers,”6 “maggots,” “worms”7— the most insignificant of creatures. Space gives us an even larger context through which to remember God’s chiding of Job: “Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?”8 In an age that constantly celebrates humankind’s importance and greatness, space puts us back in our place in the way God did for Job. It reminds us of how insignificant our existence is in the context of all His creation.
The incomprehensible expanse of space challenges us to imagine how much greater its Creator must be. Oftentimes, we emphasize God’s special treatment of humans in the doctrine of the Incarnation, and find comfort in His undivided attention. Yet author C.S. Lewis challenges this anthropocentric way of thinking in his 1960 essay, “Religion and Rocketry,” when he asks, “How can we, without absurd arrogance, believe ourselves to have been uniquely favored?”9 According to Lewis, space forces humans to consider the very real possibility that other species, perhaps possessing “rational souls” like ours, exist outside of Earth.10 Even if the existence of 6
Isaiah 40:22. Job 25:6. 8 Job 38:4. 9 C.S. Lewis, “Religion and Rocketry,” The World’s Last Night and Other Essays (Orlando: Mariner Books, 2002). 10 Ibid. 7
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other sentient beings in space has not been confirmed, Lewis still reconciles himself to the idea of it, considering in detail the possible theological consequences of such a discovery. In doing so, Lewis demonstrates that space teaches humans to check our pride—our arrogance, even—in our status as God’s sole children and heirs.11 Contemplating space and taking into account the possibility of alien life humbles us and helps us appreciate our own unique—albeit small—place in this universe. It gives us a mental exercise like the one Lewis undertakes, helping us to come to terms with how small we are within God’s creation. So although contemplating space may give us less confidence in the old conception of Heaven and Earth, it nonetheless provides new lenses through which we can understand God in the context of our age. In fact, it gives us an entirely new allegory for the journey we take in seeking God. Before our “one small step for man” that catapulted us into a new age of discovery, a prevalent allegory for seeking God was that of the Israelites wandering through the desert, searching for a Promised Land that they sometimes doubted really existed. That was the saga we traditionally compared to our journey as Christians: roaming blindly through a primitive, barren wilderness of life, struggling to follow God’s commands in order to be rewarded with reaching His ultimate destination. The space age actually gives us a new, remodeled version of this biblical saga: we wander through the seemingly impenetrable blackness of space, a modern-day desert in its stark landscape and forbidding opposition to human life. In this new wilderness, we still search for something greater than the imprisonment we have been suffering, and seek an ultimate goal that we cannot see or fully understand. We have a vision of God and a 11
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Romans 8:16–17.
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concept of Heaven in our minds, but this time our quest reaches farther than the breadth of the Sinai Peninsula. It extends to the farthest reaches of the universe. Thus, although the scope of our wanderings and the depth of our uncertainties may have been infinitely expanded, we seek the same goal as Israel did so many years ago.
In this new wilderness, we still search for something greater than the imprisonment we have been suffering, and seek an ultimate goal that we cannot see or fully understand. We are living out another chapter in the history of our fallenness and pursuit of communion with God. He, here and now, has given us the opportunity to live out a new seeking-God saga for ourselves. Through space, He provides us with a display of His greatness and shows us that there is still a wealth of things that we do not know or understand about His creation. We should, therefore, contemplate and pursue with humility the incredible universe that God has placed within our sights.
McKenna Gilliland (CC’17) is a native Texan, and as such, possesses an inexplicable partiality to Tex-Mex and country music. She likes to consider her History major a suitable excuse to hoard old books, lurk about in libraries, and fantasize about time travel. She hopes that her contribution to CC&C can add something valuable to Columbia campus’ discourse for the glory of God.
Animate Morality
Hope Chang
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here is a temple in the rural mountains of Nepal dedicated to the goddess of death, Kali. Every day people sacrifice over ten thousand live animals there and splatter their blood on the golden figure of the deity.1 The incense in the air is thick and heavy as the weight of petition hangs over the prayers of the Nepali Hindus. Most do not come to praise the goddess; they come to appease her. As I watched chickens and goats scream their death cries at the edge of a rusty blade, something in me rejected this scene as unnatural. In the modern world, or, more correctly, the first world, we who pride ourselves on civility and humaneness see animal sacrifice as inhumane and purposeless. In the twenty-first century, we have turned toward the issue of animal rights, and have made eye contact once again with our animal brothers,2 ascribing them emotions and rights similar to those of humans. We find it horrific and wrong to slaughter animals without cause. They are so like us that it is painful to cause them pain. Why kill a living thing when there is no need? What intrigues me about this issue is that, to the people who practice (and have practiced) this ancient ritual, there is a need, a rather inescapable one, that requires Kali’s river to run red with innocent blood. Sacrifice is unthinkable to us in a modern world because of our conception of animal rights, but it also seems unreasonable to believe that our ancestors killed arbitrarily. So we must understand ancient animal sacrifice in terms of morality, its formation and its interpreta1
“Nepal: Hindus at Festival to Sacrifice 200,000 Animals, Despite Protests,” New York Times, 29 Oct. 2014, http://www.nytimes. com/2009/11/25/world/asia/25briefs-Nepal.html?_r=0. 2 John Berger, About Looking (New York: Pantheon Books, 1980).
tion, rather than in terms of animal rights.3 In our ancestors’ eyes, sacrifice accomplished a task that demanded blood. The age-old ritual represented a payment, a transaction between man and deity.4 Sacrifice was an appeal to a higher being to appease wrath. Humans perceived inadequacy in their natural state and felt the need to atone for their guilt.
Sacrifice is unthinkable to us in a modern world because of our conception of animal rights, but it also seems unreasonable to believe that our ancestors killed arbitrarily. The temple of Kali is a Hindu example of the multi-cultural phenomenon of animal sacrifice. But sacrifice is not singular to Hinduism. The Torah shows that it was a significant part of Hebrew society by expounding on the complicated sacrifice rituals of cleansing needed to attain worthiness in the presence of a Holy God. Hellenic culture also mandated sacrifice to appease angry gods, as seen in Homeric writings. It is fascinating how these three faith systems evolved to account for the contemporary concern with animal rights, so as to no longer perform sacrifices. The need for atonement was 3
Rodney L. Bassett, Kelly M. Bassett, Matthew W. Lloyd, and Jason L. Johnson, “Seeking Forgiveness: Considering the Role of Moral Emotions,” Journal of Psychology & Theology 34.2, 29 Oct. 2015, http:// thedivineconspiracy.org/Z4202A.pdf. 4 Mark Elmore, “Bloody Boundaries: Animal Sacrifice and the Labor of Religion,” Secularism and Religion-making (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 209–225.
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never forgotten, but the systems morphed to accommodate the changing attitudes toward blood sacrifice, eventually leaving it behind and turning to other methods of absolution. Hinduism is the most ancient of the three cases, and even then, the ritual bali, or sacrifice, has tribal roots that precede the religion itself. The practice still holds a strong following, especially in less developed areas. According to the Vedas,5 different animal sacrifices appease different gods. And while Hindus worship some animals such as the cow, they tear open others, such as chickens and goats, as offerings to the gods. This duality of practice highlights the costliness of sacrifice. It reveals that Hindus do acknowledge the value of animal life, but that there is something they desire more strongly than the well-being of their fellow living creatures: escape from the wrath of the gods. But why do dead animals appease the gods? If it is about value or a complicated plan to gain wealth for priests, then why not require gold or money? Why must it be blood? Gold may be monetarily costly, but animal sacrifice is additionally morally costly. To compensate for wrongdoing, those who perform the ritual must compromise their humane treatment of animals to facilitate their own salvation. Over the years, the practice of bali has become less common. Currently, Hindu law itself forbids animal sacrifice. Instead it offers a different way of compensating for wrong that no longer depends on self-rescue through sacrifice, but on the judgment of the gods and the weighing of good deeds.6 This doctrine is called dharma, colloquially known as karma, and it states that one must pay the price for immorality in a reincarnated subsequent life. In this way, Hindu doctrine has removed itself 5
Klaus K. Klostermaier, A Survey of Hinduism (Albany: State University of New York, 1989). 6 Ibid.
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from the immorality of slaughtering animals, opting for a more ‘just’ pathway to restitution. Further west, the practice of sacrifice prevailed in Greek culture as well. Homer, who provides some of the only insight we have into ancient Greek religion,7 makes references to libation and sacrifice in his works. Sacrifice was a central part of religious life for the Greeks. But unlike Hindu deities, Greek gods were not above reproach. Greek literature is full of the gods’ petty quarrels and far-reaching blunders. Yet still the people felt the need to honor them with sacrifices. In an ancient myth which describes the origins of sacrifice,8 Prometheus is tasked with establishing the relation between gods and men with the “first sacrifice.” In doing so, he also established the hierarchy that man would not be able to break: no matter how foolishly a god blunders, he will take precedence over the man because of his immortality.9 Prometheus’ precedent establishes that every performed ritual implicitly acknowledges the gods’ omnipotence and superiority. This acknowledgement of divine superiority is evident even in the sacrifices of prideful Agamemnon in The Iliad, when a sacrifice was not only a request for favor but also a surrender to the will of the gods.10 But if we place landmark texts such as The Odyssey, Oedipus Rex, Herodotus’ Histories, and Aristophanes’ Lysistrata in chronological order, we can trace the degeneration of the gods’ cultural throne. From propelling and authoritative forces in The Odyssey, the gods fall to third-party roles in the Oresteia, that of judges to mankind. Later, in the Histories and Lysistrata, the gods only appear as manmade and mocked figureheads, stand-ins for the issues of the times. In the former, we see 7
Edward Kadletz, Animal Sacrifice in Greek and Roman Religion (N.p.: n.p., 1976). 8 Hesiod, Theogony (New York: Classic Books International, 2010). 9 Maria-Zoe Petropoulou, Animal Sacrifice in Ancient Greek Religion, Judaism, and Christianity, 100 BC–AD 200 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008). 10 Homer, The Iliad, trans. Richmond Lattimore (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1951).
the consummate representation of the transformed attitude towards the gods, specifically Athena, who appears only as an imposter.11 In gaining intellect, Greek culture compromised its belief in the control that the gods were fabled to have, changing its response from sincere worship to distanced regard. Herodotus hints that faith and devout worship are only for the gullible and unintelligent. At this point in history, sacrifices were still offered, but only in accordance with tradition, not conviction, of a people disillusioned by war and philosophy. By intellectually proving that the grounds for guilt do not exist, the Greeks began to assuage their feelings of guilt. But if this is a valid route to avoid live sacrifice, what, then, shall we do with our lingering feelings of guilt? Plato says we should replace guilt with a pilgrimage for Truth and purge ourselves of primitive thinking as we go.12 Today’s Western world seems to have taken this advice to heart, by replacing the pursuit of blamelessness with the pursuit of knowledge.13 But no matter how detached or lost we become in proofs and logic, we will never be able to stop hearing our conscience pointing out which direction is right and which one is wrong.14
Today’s Western world seems to have taken this advice to heart, by replacing the pursuit of blamelessness with the pursuit of knowledge. The God of Jews and Christians also demands a high standard of morality from his people. Despite their common origin, Judaism and Christianity diverge over this issue of sacrifice. Jewish law still maintains that one must adhere to the Torah in sacrificing for one’s failure in order to put off God’s wrath. The wrongdoing requires the perpetrator to pay in kind—“an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth,” implying blood for blood. But because God is so perfect, even the littlest imperfection mars the whole ledger; thereby, all sin warrants the punishment of death, no matter how insignificant of a misdemeanor. The ritual of blood sacrifice comes from Adam and Eve’s failure to obtain the perfection of the biblical God.15 Their disobedience tainted the human existence 11
Herodotus, The Histories, trans. Robin Waterfield and Carolyn Dewald (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008). 12 Kadletz, Animal Sacrifice in Greek and Roman Religion. 13 Ingvild Sælid Gilhus, Animals, Gods and Humans: Changing Attitudes to Animals in Greek, Roman and Early Christian Ideas (London: Routledge, 2006). 14 Tobias Winright, “Crime and Sacrifice,” Sojourners 36.4, 29 Oct. 2014, https://sojo.net/magazine/april-2007/crime-and-sacrifice. 15 Timothy M. Willis, “’I Will Remember Their Sins No More:’ Jeremiah 31, The New Covenant, And The Forgiveness Of Sins,” Restoration Quarterly 53 (2011).
and elicited death as the ultimate punishment. Throughout the Bible, we see the immense cost of wrongdoing again and again devastating people, cities, and nations. Some Jews today still selectively practice symbolic animal sacrifice.16 Most often they sacrifice lambs. Placing their hands on its head, they transfer their sin by prayer to the animal so that the animal can die in their stead. Blood for blood. How did the Jews escape this cycle of death for sin? They could not. They were told to wait for a Messiah, the son of God who would rescue them from their tainted existence, and promised that they would not wait forever. It is at this call for salvation a man named Jesus enters the narrative and changes it. Jews still await the coming of their savior, but Christians believe He has already come. The importance of Jesus’ role as the Son of God is realized in His sacrificial death on the cross. According to the gospels, He was crucified by the Roman authorities for claiming to be a king. However, the moral implications of this event are far greater than those of the undeserved death of an innocent man. When a sinless one—like a sacrificial lamb—took on the sins of man, suffered, and died, the wrath of a perfect God was infinitely poured out and placated. This incredible absolution is why Jesus’ divinity is important to the Christian tradition. Being God, Jesus could pay the infinite price for all mankind, while suffering only for a finite 16
Petropoulou, Animal Sacrifice in Ancient Greek Religion, Judaism, and Christianity, 100 BC–AD 200.
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amount of time.17 If He were like any other creature, the cycle would have gone on, just as more and more animals must die to keep atoning for human wrongdoing in the mountains of Nepal. But Jesus was resurrected from the dead to pay the price of sacrifice once and for all. So, through our Savior Jesus, Christians no longer need to sacrifice, for we are no longer in debt. This solution to the problem of guilt seems markedly liberating compared to the three previous analyses.
So, through our Savior Jesus, Christians no longer need to sacrifice, for we are no longer in debt. The four faith systems above each deal with the problem of animal sacrifice differently. But the only one that seems to solve rather than ignore the problem is the Christian Messianic narrative, which addresses the issue of guilt instead of skirting it. Though it has been forbidden by their religion, Nepalese Hindus still sacrifice daily at Dakshinkali. Their doctrine has looked to different punishments and penance for wrongdoing, just as Christianity looks to Christ and the Greeks to intellect. But even in this quest to expunge the human soul of guilt, we have still not arrived at full absolution. We still feel the tremor effects of guilt’s hold on humanity in white lies and stolen candy. Failure still rings in halls of national and global justice—failure to meet the standard of a perfect God. Today’s educated elite may seem satisfied with the intellectual rejection of sacrifice, but no matter how we try, our hearts will not be rid of our own guilty conscience. Animal lives are costly both monetarily and morally, the spilling of innocent blood. Through a transfer of guilt, we humans have been able to emerge from this transaction between God and man relatively unscathed. 17 Willis, “’I Will Remember Their Sins No More:’ Jeremiah 31, The New Covenant, And The Forgiveness Of Sins.”
And even though different cultures and religions have found ways to remedy human inadequacy without unnecessary bloodshed, we are still held accountable to the justice of an invisible moral standard. Only a perfect divine being could explain this perfect standard. Positing that guilt is inborn suggests that there is in fact a God, perfect and able to parcel out righteous wrath to those who do not meet His standard or to a substitutionary sacrifice. Most of our modern world would decry animal sacrifice, yet the question of guilt still remains. We must ask ourselves: Are we willing to take responsibility for our own wrongs before a God that our souls cannot deny?
Hope Chang (CC’18) was raised homeschooled all her life in Korea but now considers New York her home. She needs a break in the wilderness once in a while and aspires to be paid for photography one day. She loves Jesus and wants to share His love on campus and in New York City.
Bread Alone:
Earth, Heaven, and Politics in the Wilderness Phil Jeffery
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ver the course of Western history, radical materialism has taken over political thought. Its ancient variant, Epicureanism, justified hedonism on the basis that everything consists of physical substance, which decomposes and rearranges itself regardless of human action. A material soul, which dissolves upon death, precludes the possibility of an afterlife, so all should live simply to minimize pain. The gods are impotent to punish or reward, if they even exist. Classical Epicureanism offered a certain picture of the self and prescribed personal behavior accordingly. In short, Epicureanism saw personal life as all Earth, and no Heaven. This systematized materialism went in and out of style in Western thought, but nevertheless came to influence political thought more and more over time. Eventually, Karl Marx fully adapted Epicureanism to political thought. For Marx, material concerns were of primary importance in politics, and people derive satisfaction in life from the products of their labor. He claimed that capitalism alienates workers from the material products of their labor, thereby removing any possibility for their satisfaction in life on Earth. Because it distracts from the material and offers future satisfaction in a heavenly life, Marx famously dubbed religion the “opiate of the masses.” Traditionally, Christianity has resisted impulses toward materialism and asserted the importance of Heaven over material gain on Earth. But if Epicurus and
Marx are right, and all of history indeed revolves around material needs and material power, then what value does Christianity offer? None outline the tension between Christianity and the materialism of modern life more skillfully than Marx’s contemporary, Fyodor Dostoevsky, in The Brothers Karamazov. Dostoevsky’s novel contains a parable in which a Spanish Inquisitor challenges Jesus, arguing that He could have instantly and permanently won the nations for Himself had He submitted to any of Satan’s three temptations in the wilderness. The Inquisitor uses the first temptation—that Jesus turn stones into bread— to explore the relationship between common material needs and the spiritual satisfaction that Jesus offers. Remarkably, the gospels only devote a handful of verses to the temptation of Jesus in the desert. Matthew and Luke both provide brief accounts of the temptation,1 Mark only mentions it in a single verse,2 and the Gospel of John does not mention it at all. Despite the sparse narrative, Satan’s suggestion to turn stones into bread held significance beyond Jesus’ own physical hunger at the end of a forty-day fast. As the Inquisitor suggests, bread also has a crucial role in political life, which means the first temptation is relevant to politics. Dostoevsky’s Grand Inquisitor takes a materialistic approach to religious life because of the materialism of political life. Satan’s true temptation, as the Inquisitor 1 2
Matthew 4:1–11 (ESV); Luke 4:1–13. Mark 1:13.
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describes it, is that Jesus provide bread so that “mankind will run after [Him] like sheep, grateful and obedient, though eternally trembling.”3 The Inquisitor sees that “in the name of this very earthly bread, the spirit of the earth will rise against [Jesus] and fight with you and defeat you.”4 In other words, if Jesus does not give the masses what they want—bread—someone else will, and whoever provides bread will rule the world. To the chagrin of the Grand Inquisitor, Jesus will not coerce the nations to believe. He certainly knew that He could have gained followers through bread alone. According to the Gospel of John, a crowd of five thousand people followed Jesus after He miraculously fed them. In response, Jesus did something no political leader would: rebuked the crowd for following Him simply because He had given them bread. He exhorted them to “not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures to eternal life.”5 Something other than bread can fulfill ultimate human needs, and Jesus claimed to offer it.
To the chagrin of the Grand Inquisitor, Jesus will not coerce the nations to believe. The book of Acts sheds light on this seeming dichotomy between earthly and spiritual needs by presenting a direct encounter between Jesus’ message and Classical Epicureanism. When Paul came to Athens,6 he encountered Epicureans in debate with a rival school of 3
Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov, trans. Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2002), 252. 4 Ibid., 252–253. 5 John 6:27. 6 Acts 17:16–34.
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thought, the Stoics. The Stoics, like the Epicureans, denied divine influence in their moral code, yet they did so by emphasizing human responsibility for their own thoughts and actions. Thus, both schools of thought focused on attaining earthly goals: bodily pleasure for the Epicureans and virtuous actions for the Stoics. Interestingly, Paul presented a single argument to them both—one which did not address Heaven or Earth at all. He posited that the Stoics and Epicureans sought a God they did not know—an Unknown God who created the universe and has made Himself known. He could have argued that Earth must be despised for the sake of Heaven, or he could have forced heavenly principles into their earthly ethical systems, yet he did neither. In the wilderness, Jesus took a similar approach. He did not say to Satan “I must forsake bread for heavenly gain,” (although He was fasting) nor did He say “Heaven will satiate my physical needs” (although “angels came and [ministered] to Him”7 immediately after the temptation). Like Paul in his address to the Epicureans and Stoics, Jesus did not deny earthly needs for the sake of Heaven, nor subordinate Heaven to earthly needs. Rather, He said that “man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.” Refusing to discount the importance of material needs, Jesus indicated a still more pressing need, which only the Word of God can fulfill. As the fulfillment of the law and the prophets that came before, Jesus offered Himself as the Living Bread on which man can truly live. American Christians have tended to take one of two approaches to the challenge of materialism: one that sees virtue as the heart of Christianity, and one that sees social justice as the heart of Christianity. These approaches 7
Matthew 4:11.
are parallel to the responses Jesus and Paul avoided. The former focuses solely on heavenly gain, and it entails developing a tunnel vision for virtue. The virtue-oriented society tends to hold unrealistic views of itself—critics always find moral depravity at its core. Similarly, the virtue-oriented individual holds a hollow view of himself and of others, reducing all other people to examples of how to live or how not to live. In short, this first approach tries to subordinate earthly desires to heavenly virtues, but ultimately fails to do so. If man could live on virtue alone, he would have no need for either material reality or for Jesus.
As the fulfillment of the law and the prophets that came before, Jesus offered Himself as the Living Bread on which man can truly live. A second approach is to view Christianity as a tool for social justice work. This materialistic approach to faith has a long tradition in the United States. In the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, a “Social Gospel” movement developed around the idea that the primary reason for Jesus’s death, and the focus of the Gospel as a whole, was socioeconomic change and the bringing about of Heaven on Earth. This interpretation of the Christian faith is still prevalent today. While justice and positive social change are major themes in Scripture, the view that political change forms the heart of the gospel has significant problems. Jesus was not a political leader, and any number of Jewish prophets, judges, kings, or patriarchs could have propagated the same teachings on justice that He did. In subordinating heavenly aspirations to earthly needs, this view renders Jesus dispensable, since He enacted no political change Himself and provided no teaching on justice which could not have come through other means. Though both approaches make claims about the true heart of Christianity, neither of them necessitates Jesus. Like the Grand Inquisitor, both look to something they find more compelling than Jesus to obtain followers. One expects its moral authority to compel belief, the other expects its political activism—which aims at material provision—to compel belief. Both assume that man lives on one thing—either moral or material fulfillment—above all else, and that all of history turns on the one thing. Dominion over the one thing would place the Church on the right side of history, coerce all the nations to belief, and bring about Heaven on Earth. Both Jesus and Paul identified the true problem be-
hind the personal materialism prevalent in their time and behind the political materialism prevalent in ours. The true problem is one of idolatry. Materialists, like all people, have objects of worship. Jesus and Paul point out that all people look for something ultimate in either the moral or the material—something which will bring about virtue or prosperity. Believing that virtue or bread are of ultimate importance only leads to an endless quest for moral or material utopia. Jesus did not come to satisfy these earthly longings, but to reveal humanity’s true needs, and ultimately address them in His life and death as the fulfillment of the Word of God. Material bread cannot remove our hunger forever. Only in Christ, the “bread of life,”8 shall we hunger no more. 8
John 6:35.
Phil Jeffery (CC’17) is a history nerd from Portland, Oregon. He enjoys Panang curry, the music of Sufjan Stevens, and spending time with a certain someone. He is also President of the Veritas Forum at Columbia and a member of Columbia Faith and Action.
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A Promise for Heaven Luis Alvarado
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flection of our spirit. We do not want to lose those things which we hold most dear. This is why we marry, sign contracts, or commit ourselves to things. When we see something that touches our spirit we strive to hold on to it. If you are loving your life right now, you surely do not want to see it disappear. An honest fear of death can be a simple indication that we love our lives, or that we value ourselves. Believing that God did not put us here just to suffer, love, and then simply die is completely natural. God gave us the power to want what we will one day have with Him. The secret to joy is anticipation. In the case of Heaven, the anticipation is for a better life, one we are called to share together with our Creator. Believing in Heaven frees us from the anguish at the deaths of those we love. We find comfort in knowing that they are more alive than we are, that everything happens according to God’s plan, and that when we die, we are reunited with the love of God which sustains our lives now. Believing in Heaven lets us dream. Here’s another exercise: imagine the best thing that could ever happen to you. This glimpse is just the tip of the iceberg. Heaven is everything you can imagine and more.1 God would not give us the capacity to dream only to take it all away. Heaven helps us deal with emptiness: it helps us recognize that nothing here could ever fill us, for we were created for eternal life. We are then liberated to enjoy the beautiful things we already have, rather than wish for the ones we lack.
magine you are dying right now. Imagine it in extreme detail. Look at everything in your life that you’re leaving behind. Imagine every single unfulfilled dream as a ghost at your deathbed. See these ghosts screaming at you, “Why have you forgotten us? Why have you let us wither away and die with you on your deathbed?” To these voices you might say, “If only I had more time! Why would God let this happen?” When we look death in the eye for more than a moment, it can sting. It is like staring into the sun—something that cannot be done for more than a couple of seconds. Does it make sense that we were put on this Earth to suffer, love, dream, and build homes, lives, and families, struggling to preserve all these things only to ultimately lose them all? Is the universe so cruel that it gives us tastes of love, happiness, and life just to brutally snatch them from us in the end? Some people say, “Just accept death. It’s a part of life.” But anyone who truly loves their life, their family, and themselves finds it hard to accept that the things they cherish most will be taken away from them at death. When faced with the cruelty of losing it all, it is not foolish to believe in Heaven. In fact, it is in our nature, a re-
When faced with the cruelty of losing it all, it is not foolish to believe in Heaven.
Andrea Arellano (CC’17)
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Can we prove Heaven? We cannot tackle this question using the methods of math or science, but that does not mean Heaven cannot exist. Even math and science employ different ways of reaching conclusions, yet we do not hold one above the other. While in math we prove theorems, in science we construct theories. In mathematical proofs, we start with basic definitions and assumptions that we combine to demonstrate ever more complex facts. There is absolute certainty that if the initial assumptions hold and the proof is rigorous, the result is true. In scientific experiments, we repeatedly test hypotheses until we can eliminate most uncertainty. 1
Revelation 21:4 (ESV).
Even if a hypothesis becomes a law, it may still be disproven. Science, therefore, is less definitive than math. However, this does not prevent us from accepting what science says, for we recognize that it operates under standards different from those of math. This same idea can apply to faith in Heaven. To evaluate matters of faith using scientific and mathematical methods is both unreasonable and unfair. These methods are useless for statements like, “I love you.” We don’t expect someone’s love for us to be verifiable the way a math problem or a science experiment is. Indeed, love is not just a theory in a science textbook, but an evaluation of our heart. Faith is a similar evaluation. Deep down, we all hope for something past death, and this hope should not be subjugated to the same scrutiny as math or science. They are as valid as a theory or law of nature. God has placed these eternal thoughts in your heart, like a signature of His greater design.2 Revisiting our initial exercise, before you go to bed, when it is dark and silent, think about this simple fact: you are alive. Say, “I am.” Just those two words and nothing else. Do not say I am this or that, just, “I am.” Think about what this means. In that moment, you will realize that everything you are is too much to be put into words. There are aspects about you that can be described, but who you are at the deepest level is indescribable. You will feel that you are just too much to merely be here. There is no way this experience can come from nothing, be for nothing, and lead to nothing. Something or someone must be behind this life. This realization is a normal human experience, because God left clues in creation.3 Every time we look at something, we feel that it was made. God meant for this to happen. Some see Him in the power of earthly nature, and others see Him in the beauty of the stars and galaxies. You can see Him even in the beauty of your own hand. God’s signature can be best seen when you look at the creation you know best— yourself. This signature is a promise for something more: a promise for Heaven. 3
Solomon touches on this in Ecclesiastes 3:11. Romans 1:20.
Luis Alvarado (CC’19) was born in Belleville, NJ, but was raised in Newark and Union, NJ. In a humble parish in Newark, Luis saw the love of God firsthand in the people who struggled to find work or support their families. It was in this tight-knit community where he experienced God in a personal and transformative way. Luis has a passion for baseball, writing, and weight training.
Hope Chang (CC’18)
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I Am Who I Am
The Hypermodern Identity and Christianity Jennifer Yu
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y morning routine is as follows: click my alarm off, groan and grumble, slide out of bed, and swipe open my phone. Facebook notifications—swipe. Emails—swipe. Snapchat notifications—swipe. Instagram notifications—swipe. To say that this generation has a social media problem is an understatement. Our lives have become a constant grey triple-dot balloon, poised for the next Instagrammable moment, or the next eyebrows-on-fleek day to Snapchat to our stories. What we consider means of sharing with others are actually means of curated presentation. We have an obsession with how we present our lives to friends, coworkers, and complete strangers alike. Ultimately, this is an obsession with how we want to be known—an obsession over our persona. Social media as a contemporary phenomenon exhibits an interesting tension between authenticity and performativity. The unique pressure created by social media to create an ostensibly authentic persona has pervaded our lives. Consequently, our generation suffers from greater levels of anxiety and depression, as we struggle to answer the simple question: Who am I? Traditionally, identities were bestowed by social institutions. This system erased any potential ambiguity
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regarding who was given which social role and what was subsequently expected of them. The traditional derivation of identity from social institution instilled several long-lasting societal expectations. Take the family, for example. It was common knowledge and custom that women became wives and mothers who were expected to take care of the children and control the domestic sphere. Men, on the other hand, became husbands and fathers who were expected to take care of the finances and work to provide for the family. These gender-specific expectations have extended into countless other conventions, such as men paying for dinners and holding open doors for women, and women cooking meals and exhibiting a sweet maternal demeanor. In many ways, these expectations created a system of explicit shared guidelines for how we interact with one another. These shared rules provided a comforting framework that eased our doubt about our place in society. However, one could argue that these types of expectations were restrictive and limiting because they didn’t allow for individual agency—every behavior, attitude, and belief had to be informed by one’s social role for any sort of validity. Acting outside of these constructs resulted in shaming and ostracization. Social institutions created
a culture of fitting in by necessitating the conformation to certain norms in order to be an accepted member of society. The concept of identity has drastically changed over time, largely in opposition to this overwhelming pressure to ascribe to a preordained lifestyle. In his book Hypermodern Times, French philosopher Gilles Lipovetsky posits that identity has become an individualistic, carefully crafted presentation.1 Instead of finding our identities in societally established roles, we are suddenly thrown onto a blank canvas without any instruction and without any guidance. We are given full control, or at least the illusion of it, as we look to redefine ourselves with our own labels and on our own terms. In many ways, this newfound freedom provides exciting and endless opportunities. Advertisements from Barbie (“Be who you wanna be”) and crowdsourcing campaigns like Lay’s “Do Us a Flavor” constantly feed into our celebration of the individual and empower us to be unique and creative. Identity has become a form of personalized expression that has permeated everything we do and think.
Instead of finding our identities in societally established roles, we are suddenly thrown onto a blank canvas without any instruction and without any guidance.
1
Gilles Lipovetsky, Hypermodern Times, trans. Andrew Brown (Cambridge: Polity Press, 2005). 2
Ibid.
James Xue (SEAS’17)
However, the freedom to shape our own identity comes at a price. Lipovetsky argues that our new conception of identity has precipitated a new pressure and set of rules that require us to fit in by appearing unique and authentic.2 We are discouraged from copying or appropriating any qualities that are not of our true selves— our ‘inner selves.’ There’s a notion that each individual has his or her own distinguishable identity, so anything mainstream is considered inauthentic. Think about how we use the term ‘basic’ as a phrase of judgment. Think about how we externalize this pressure of authenticity by taking it upon ourselves to police others (e.g. “She’s trying too hard”). Think about how we can alter even our physical appearance through plastic surgery, yet shame celebrities who do so. There’s freedom insofar as we have technology and resources that give us the ability to redefine who we are. Yet, we do not give ourselves the opportunity to exert this freedom because we collectively shame those who choose to represent themselves
differently from what we believe their authentic selves to be. We may no longer expect each other to act within traditional roles, yet we still bind each other to societal expectations, albeit more individualized ones. Our obsession with authenticity is ultimately a dangerous search for approval, which is most clearly reflected in the development of social media. If our contemporary definition of identity emphasizes individuality, then why are we compelled to share, perhaps even overshare, every aspect of our lives? It is because we are still bound by societal expectations to fit in. The proliferation of selfies, 100-plus-second-long Snapchat stories, and dozens of filters all stem from our desire to be known and accepted. Social media allows us to have a greater reach than ever before—we can gain approval from more and more people through likes and thumbsup and favorites. Our phones are plugged right by our bedside when we sleep and when we wake up because we cannot help but continually seek validation from friends and even strangers. We seek validation because we are in an unknown territory. Identity was previously based on generalizations concerning societal categories, such as race, gender, and class. Nowadays, we have individualized our expectations based on what we consider the ‘inner self.’ But, ultimately, we don’t really know who our ‘inner selves’ are, largely because we’re just making them up as we go. Our identities are self-constructed—a medley of edited selfies, foodstagrams, and shaky, oversaturated clips of a concert. We self-scrutinize, capture moments, and overshare in order to piece together an abstract, fragmented identity. Yet even though we overshare and obsess over social media, our lives are ultimately self-centered. Phrases like “you do you” or “I’m just doing me” reflect how our new conception of identity is narcissistic. Our society’s overall explicit message is that other people don’t matter— only you do. We can scroll through people’s lives without even stopping to try to gain a deeper understanding of who they are. We have a pervasive sense of apathy
Fall 2015 18
or indifference towards other people because we are so consumed by the weight of having to constantly present an authentic, unique self. We have lost a lot of our sense of community because we have focused so much on being individuals. It is no coincidence, then, that our hypermodern age is defined by a spike in anxiety disorders and depression.3 The more we focus on ourselves, the more disconnected we become with our surroundings and the more isolated we feel. We want to be set apart, unique, and special, yet we still want to be loved, accepted, and secured. How do we achieve all these things, if we can’t achieve them through societal roles, as we have previously tried, or through our ‘inner selves,’ as we are now trying? To answer this question, we must first address a more fundamental one: What should be the source of our identity? For Christians, our ultimate and sufficient identity should be found in Christ. When we have an identity in Christ, we no longer need to look for our identities in social institutions or within ourselves. In Him, we can be set apart, unique, special, loved, accepted, and secured. Our purpose then becomes reflecting Him and seeking Him in all that we do. Ephesians 5:1–2 tells us, “Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children. And walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave Himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.” Thus, as Christians, we must constantly look to Him to lead our lives according to His good, acceptable, and perfect will. This is manifested in many different ways, such as holding each other accountable when we knowingly sin or ministering to a friend in need. Our purpose is clearly illustrated in the Bible, which is His direct Word to us. The Bible sets the standard for our morals, beliefs, and behaviors. It gives us necessary guidelines by which to live our lives.
‘inner self ’ and the fear of inauthenticity. Psalm 139:15– 16 states, “My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them.” When we doubt ourselves or our purpose, we can rely on Him, our Creator, who has already formed a plan for us and will not let us stray from it. Additionally, our identity in Christ establishes an equally important relationship with our brothers and sisters in Christ. In John 13:34, Jesus says, “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another.” Our personal faith allows us to enjoy the fellowship of our like-minded friends and family who love us deeply as a reflection of Him. As the body of Christ, we can enjoy community in countless ways and experience a true sense of belonging. More importantly, God and His Word are constant, stable, and secure. As illustrated, worldly identities are constantly changing. When He is at the center of our lives, we are no longer defined by restrictive societal expectations and no longer anxious about how we are perceived. When He is at the center, our lives reflect Him instead of reflecting society or some ambiguous ‘inner self.’ When we are in Christ, we derive our beliefs, our morals, and our attitudes from Him. We can be confident that because these attributes are His, they are perfect, good, and unchanging. Although we may be imperfect and struggle with sin, we are made sufficient in Him because of His sacrifice. He has deemed us His own, part of a family. When we think about the question “Who am I?” the answer is simple: we are His.
For Christians, our ultimate and sufficient identity should be found in Christ. Furthermore, our identity in Christ is different from our worldly interpretations of identity because He acts not only as the source of our individual identity, but also as the source of our community membership in His body. Our identity in Christ establishes a personal relationship between Him and us. We relish the fact that He knows our hearts and minds more deeply than we ever will know ourselves. He removes the ambiguity of our
3
Lipovetsky, Hypermodern Times.
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Jennifer Yu (CC’17) is a Sociology major, if you couldn’t tell from her piece. Her energy is often described as that of a golden retriever, which is most evident when she’s babbling to friends and strangers alike. She finds herself happiest with an iced chai latte having heartfelt conversations. She is grateful to be a part of this issue of CC&C and hopes that the Lord will use her and her piece to draw others closer to Him.
My Fathers in Heaven My Father is the King of Kings And I am His little princess He knew me before the beginning of time And He created me out of love
Kenna Arana
You, Dad, were the king of our family And I was your little princess You knew me for only a brief time But your love, too, gave me life He created you to be my earthly protector And turned you into my guardian angel He took you from me because it was your time But I couldn’t follow because it wasn’t mine In the days after you left, I didn’t understand Why He had to take you from my arms But every day Mom told me of your love for me And how, in the future, we’ll be reunited: “One day His Kingdom will come And this world will be done And in front of Him You and Dad will meet again” I continue to await this day With hope and faith For You, my Father, are in Heaven And I will forever be your little princess
Kenna Arana (CC’17) is a self-proclaimed bookworm who was born and raised in sunny Southern California, which left her clueless about how to dress for New York weather. One of her favorite things to do is laugh, and she likes her jokes like she likes her pizza— the cheesier the better. She enjoys planning parties and believes that the best invitation is one that asks people to join together in celebrating God’s love.
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If My Faith Is a Flower
Sunny Chen
If my faith is a flower, I blossom in blue skies. Sunshine may pour down, and I will bloom, bloom, and fade. Intoxicated, I am here today, and gone tomorrow— More ephemeral than youth. Indeed, if my faith is a flower, I am fragile, fickle by nature. In springtime gaiety, I may bow to the next tender palm. If my faith is a flower, Lord hasten the drizzle. Let the downpour toss away my glory, strip me away— and reveal Grace in my sin, Joy in my sorrow, Peace in my fear. Heavy raindrops bring me close to the ground. Lord, break me down so I may endure the seasons. If my faith is a flower, Rain is my greatest blessing. Let my tears dig my roots deeper, push my shoots higher— Let the storm teach me to yearn for the Sun. Sunny Chen (CC'19) is from Philadelphia. She runs on the track team and enjoys painting and sculpting. She likes museums, jazzy music, and comfortable chairs. Sunny is not looking forward to winter.
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Quasars, Pulsars, Black Holes, and God
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y name is Isaac, which means “he laughs” in Hebrew. It is the name God commanded our favorite patriarch, Abraham, to give to his son after his wife Sarah laughed at the thought that they could have a baby at their extreme old age. Despite the tradition of parents naming their children after biblical giants, this is not what my parents had in mind when they named me. I was named after a different kind of giant—Isaac Newton. I suppose my name is fitting, since not only do I like to laugh, but I also study astrophysics. I have wanted to become an astrophysicist since I was eight years old. At the time, I did not know the proper name of the field, but I knew in my heart that I wanted to study the stars. I was first exposed to stellar phenomena when, during a library visit in elementary school, I stumbled upon a children’s book with a peculiar name: “Quasars, pulsars, and black holes” by Isaac Asimov. I took it home and it blew my mind—I had no idea about all the crazy things that occur during a star’s life cycle, such as how some of them die through incredibly powerful explo-
Isaac Bautista sions called supernovae. I was so shocked and fascinated by the things I discovered that I ended up reading the rest of the physics and astronomy section at my school’s library. I learned about stars, galaxies, and planets. I was in love. My fascination with physics and mathematics only grew over the years and continues to surprise me to this day. Just recently, I had a realization about special relativity that drastically changed the way I think about the universe. I had never thought about time dilation and length contraction being intimately related, but once I did, I realized that it is possible to travel across any two points in space in an arbitrarily small amount of time. Who could have thought that you can get from here to Alpha Centauri, the nearest star to the Sun at about four light-years away, in a second, or even less than that? Intuitively, it does not make any sense at all, but special relativity calls us to ignore intuition and trust the laws of physics. Studying astrophysics has led me to amazing revelations of this kind, but among all the conclusions my field has helped me reach, there is one I consider Fall 2015 24
more important than any other—there is a God. Science and reason led me into faith. I was raised in a nominally Christian home until middle school, when my family started going to church regularly. The thought of God was always present as I was growing up, but I never took it very seriously. It was not until I was old enough to think about the philosophical implications of physics that I realized how, in spite of the amazing degree to which we can describe the universe with mathematics, there are questions for which we do not have answers—and probably never will. Even the best physicists can only shrug their shoulders when asked where the universe came from or why it came to be.
Science and reason led me into faith. The inability of physics to shed light on these doubts led me to seek answers elsewhere and come to believe in the idea of a Creator through rational means. Christian apologist and theologian Dr. William Lane Craig formulates the argument of causality, known as the Kalam Cosmological Argument,1 in the following way: everything that begins to exist has a cause. The universe began to exist. Therefore, the universe has a cause. If the universe has a cause, then an uncaused Creator independent of the universe exists, one that need not be limited by time, 1 William Lane Craig, “Transcript: The Kalam Cosmological Argument,” Reasonable Faith, 8 Nov. 2015, http://www.reasonablefaith.org/ transcript-kalam-cosmological-argument.
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space, or the laws of physics. In addition to the idea of causality, the seemingly inexplicable order and structure of the universe puzzled me. The universe is perfectly fine-tuned in a way that allows for the existence of life, as well as for the formation of stars and planets. In his book Just Six Numbers, astrophysicist Martin Rees discusses six physical constants that define the universe as we know it. One of the numbers Rees writes about is D, which has a value of 3, representing the number of macroscopic physical dimensions.2 D could have been any number, but were it anything else, this universe would have been entirely different—perhaps a universe without depth, where everything is flat, or one with an extra dimension, full of strange objects like tesseracts. Seeing the remarkable way in which D and the other constants shape the universe, I refused to believe that the fine-tuning of the universe is a coincidence. Because of this, I grew to believe that the laws of physics, like the universe itself, had also been put in place by something that is beyond them. My intellectual journey can be described by a quote from Robert Jastrow, a Columbia professor and NASA astrophysicist: “For the scientist who has lived by his faith in the power of reason, the story ends like a bad dream. He has scaled the mountain of ignorance; he is about to conquer the highest peak; as he pulls himself over the final rock, he is greeted by a band of theologians 2
Martin Rees, Just Six Numbers: The Deep Forces That Shape the Universe (New York, NY: Basic Books, 2000), 3.
who have been sitting there for centuries.”3 According to Jastrow, the scientist can aspire to acquire true knowledge through reason and logic, but he will inevitably discover that it cannot be attained while ignoring the supernatural. Like the scientist, I, too, unexpectedly discovered theology at the summit of scientific questions. By seeing that God is the source of all creation—including physics—I realized the existence of God.4 After this revelation, I began to see God in everything around me. The heavens reveal the glory of God and the expanse of the universe is a picture of the size of the God that we worship.
The scientist can aspire to acquire true knowledge through reason and logic, but he will inevitably discover that it cannot be attained while ignoring the supernatural. This is the way I see my field of study—as a reminder of God’s incredible power. Everything that we know of, from the orbits of electrons to the orbits of the planets, was created by Him. Take a look at the world that surrounds us. In the hidden quantum world, there are forces holding everything together. The carbon atoms in our bodies have properties that make all sorts of things possible, including organic life as we know it. The electrons that orbit atomic nuclei exert electrical forces that determine the way in which we interact with the matter around us. Although atoms are mostly empty space, these repelling electrical forces keep you from falling right through your chair while you study in Butler Library. Speaking of Butler—after a long night there, look up into the sky as you walk home. Despite the light pol3
Robert Jastrow, God and the Astronomers (New York, NY: Norton, 1978). 4 Colossians 2:3 (ESV).
lution from the city, you will hopefully manage to see some stars. The stars you see are billions of years old and millions of light years away. These scales of time and distance are beyond anything you can imagine. During the winter, look for the constellation Orion. In the top left corner of the constellation, there lies a red giant called Betelgeuse. It is about 650 million light years away and 1000 times bigger than the Sun. Not only is it enormous in size (even then, we know of stars that dwarf Betelgeuse), but it is also near the end of its life. At any moment within the next million years or so, Betelgeuse will die a violent death in a spectacular supernova. The star will explode, releasing its rich guts across the universe and creating a burst of energy so powerful that it will blow away anything in proximity to it. It will even be visible from Earth during the day. These are the kinds of things that remind me of God’s power. He is enormous, bigger than anything we can dream of. All things were created through God, for God, and by God.5 Everything created by God is good, and all creation deserves our praise. We should take joy in the opening lines of the Bible: “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.”6 Think about this line long and hard. God is our Creator—He spoke the world into being and everything belongs to Him. Let us delight in the world around us because it is beautiful and amazing, and it is a display of God’s eternal might. God’s power and glory is embedded in the very fabric of spacetime. Open your eyes—His majesty surrounds you. 5 6
Colossians 1:16. Genesis 1:1.
Isaac Bautista (CC’18) was born and raised in the great state of Texas. He is an Astrophysics major, a Packers fan, and a Mexican food snob. You will often find him walking home from the library at 3:00 a.m., staring at the night sky, and admiring the stars.
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Under the Sun
A
Titus Willis
lengthy night of conversation about the hot-button issues of our day had come to an end for my friends and me. “You know,” my friend Kris said as I drove home, “we can talk all we want, but the world is still messed up. There are still fights on social media every day and people not willing to get along. Some churches are preaching messages of hate. Others are denying the Bible’s authority on some subjects because they don’t like what it says. People are dying for no good reason. Injustice is everywhere.” “That’s the world,” I said while ratcheting up my windshield wipers. “Seriously,” my friend Anthony interjected, “it’s 2015. Why isn’t society perfect yet?” Although it seems silly when put so bluntly, the lamenting of society’s imperfection happens very regularly, especially among millennials like my friends and me. We take to Facebook to decry politicians that stand on platforms contrary to ours, cite articles that adhere to our opinions, and act dumbfounded when someone dares disagree with the way we think. Some go so far as to say that an individual out of step with ‘modern thought’—that is, our cultural groupthink that takes inspiration from both humanist and postmodernist worldviews—is ignorant or close-minded. Answers, we imply (for we do not want to say it out loud), do not elude us. After all, we are the future of this planet. 2015 has come
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and we, the enlightened generation, have the answers. If dissenters would simply step aside, we could fix the world in a matter of days. The tacit audacity of my generation is displayed in its assumption of superiority over its predecessors, and it strikes me as remarkably jarring.
“It’s 2015. Why isn’t society perfect yet?” Regardless, Anthony’s comment was poignant and I wrestled with it for the rest of the night. As is my custom in times of harrowing thought, I consulted the Bible when I got home. I turned to Ecclesiastes, wherein Solomon is frustrated by his world, too, but for different reasons. Observing the futility of labor, of pleasure, of success, and even of life itself, he does not ask, “Why aren’t we better?” but concludes, “We are all the same.” The past confirms that Solomon’s answer still applies today. Many of history’s great philosophers have espoused what we believe to be inventions of our modern brains. In our quest for modern utopia in a broken world, we realize that, both philosophically and socially, “there is nothing new under the sun.”1 To further consider Solomon’s idea, let us mention the surprisingly progressive stances of several of antiquity’s philosophers, whom some would dismiss today 1
Ecclesiastes 1:9 (ESV).
as ‘old dead guys.’ For example, just as my generation loves to consider individuals ‘good people,’ Confucius thinks similarly. “Merely set your heart sincerely upon Goodness,” the seminal Eastern thinker says, “and you will be free of bad intentions.”2 My readers would not be hard-pressed to recall a time when they found themselves wronged and the defense volleyed back at them sounded something like, “It’s okay, my heart was in the right place.” This is an area in which both the early and modern thinker miss a key distinction. Aside from being entirely impossible to judge, intention is often not indicative of anything resembling good behavior. Suicide bombers come to mind—men and women driven by a dogmatic outside force compelling them to destructive acts for the sake of a larger goal. To the radical jihadist committing acts of terror or the patriotic Japanese pilot flying his plane into a U.S. naval carrier in the South Pacific, the intentions behind their murderous actions might be entirely benign. They could have followed the teachings of Confucius and still have found themselves posthumously despised as evil and worthless by a culture unfamiliar with theirs, one which only knows them for the disasters they inflict. Herein lies a great flaw of humankind: even if our hearts are in the right place, wrongdoing is still possible, and others can still get hurt. Good intentions do not go far enough on their own because we are prone to error even when we do not mean to be. It is as though our wills and our actions are at odds with one another. While our society’s modern assessment is comparable to that of Confucius, neither totally accounts for the flaws we all share. The philosophical movement of this era towards
more sexual freedom brings us into closer step with the ancient Romans. Vanderbilt professor Thomas McGinn writes at length about the state of sexual activity in the Roman Empire and posits that its citizens engaged in “licit sexuality” of all sorts, including prostitution and premarital sex, while spurning marital unfaithfulness because of its illicit nature.3 Our society recognizes this odd set of standards that encourages sexual license before marriage but condemns individuals for behaving with any sort of license after the vows are exchanged. Catullus, a Roman poet of great consequence who did most of his work in the days of Caesar, regularly discusses his “licit,” consensual sexual relationship with Lesbia and glorifies it as something for which to strive. In Canto 5 he says, “The rumors of stern old men / Let us value all at just one penny,” alluding to critiques of what he does in secret with Lesbia. Other poems, such as Canto 51, read more explicitly about his amorous forays. His notion that consent is the only necessity for a worthy sexual experience is hardly foreign to the modern reader.
Herein lies a great flaw of humankind: even if our hearts are in the right place, wrongdoing is still possible, and others can still get hurt. Our perception of sex as something to be handled with high license and low consequences leads to dehumanization—there is no way around this fact. Media and marketing are hyper-sexualized now in ways at which even the Romans would have balked, with advertisements from the likes of Axe and Hardee’s providing examples of just how little we leave to our youth’s imagination. Our society’s children see scantily-clad cheerleaders during televised sporting events, only to be further inundated with those images during commercial 3 Thomas McGinn, The Economy of Prostitution in the Roman World (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2004), 261.
2
Confucius, Analects, trans. Edward Slingerland (Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company, 2003), 30.
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breaks. The saturation of sex in this culture is virtually inescapable. Not coincidentally, pornography consumption is consistently on the rise, with statistics estimating that 90 percent of males have been exposed to pornographic images4 by the age of 18.5 Why do blatant sexualization and troubling objectification exist in a progressive modern world? More importantly, why are we going backwards and becoming more prone to distorting and dismissing the value of individuals? Why do our teenagers grow more adept at seeing other human beings as sexual objects, completely deviating from where our views should be? My reader can likely follow the logic: the people of this world are broken, and indulging in their brokenness only makes things worse. Our shared appreciation with the Romans for sexual pleasure without consequences is fundamentally flawed, not unlike the state of the human condition itself.
Why do blatant sexualization and troubling objectification exist in a progressive modern world? Our nobler modern social concept, that of male-female equality, has a historical precedent as well: none other than Plato of 4th-century Greece shared some of our views on gender equality. Of course, varying degrees exist in modern feminism. Yet amid all the complex 4 Elwood D. Watson, “Pornography Addiction Among Men Is on the Rise,” The Huffington Post, 9 Nov. 2015, http://www.huffingtonpost. com/elwood-d-watson/pornography-addiction-amo_b_5963460.html. 5 This, of course, is an imperfect measurement since many men are not willing to admit exposure to porn, so that number is definitely north of 90. One may recall the adage, “95 percent of men say they look at porn and the other 5 percent are lying.”
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disagreements around women’s rights movements, it is generally accepted that the average woman is physically smaller than the average man, and Plato heartily agrees with this analysis. However, just as modern feminists believe that women should be offered the same opportunities as men of the same merit, Plato also clamors for equality. This view is best seen in his description of the kallipolis, his perfect city that exists in a purely hypothetical realm. He speaks on the matter at length through the character of Socrates, first saying, “Men and women are by nature the same with respect to guarding the city, except to the extent that one is [physically] weaker and the other [physically] stronger.”6 The city-guardian is officially called “philosopher-king” by the city-designing characters. This occupation is the highest and most power-wielding position in Plato’s kallipolis, so he has basically afforded the same rights to both sexes: women can take the most honorable job in the city just as men can. The sameness between them is more explicitly detailed in subsequent sections, most notably in a jab at men who mock women for working hard in historically male-dominant spaces, when Plato says that any man who laughs at such a woman “doesn’t know . . . what he’s doing.”7 The idea is not fully fleshed out, but the ethos of equality and even non-discrimination exists, not unlike the standards for which we fight today. Unlike the modern views that echo Confucius and the Romans, the importance of equal rights on the basis of sex seems to be a proper description of where we always should have been as a society. Women like Margaret Thatcher, Marie Curie, Abigail Adams, and millions of 6
Plato, Republic, trans. G.M.A. Grube (Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company, 1992), 130. 7 Ibid., 131.
others made a difference with their minds while exuding a courage and cunning far beyond the glass ceiling by which they were restrained. Yet despite historical precedent, men from all cultures and all schools of thought continue to find ways to use their larger physical size to oppress and abuse. I am often appalled with happenings around me of domestic violence, of deadbeat fatherhood, and of the systemic disadvantages that will inevitably give me a leg up over a woman at some point in my life, and I wonder how this sort of behavior could still exist when men were aware thousands of years ago that women mattered and deserved a voice. Today, despite the past hundred years that have seen dramatic improvements in women’s equality, I must reconcile the fact that, in the United States, a woman is still assaulted or beaten every nine seconds—dozens since you’ve begun reading this piece—and realize that we still have an inestimably long way to go.8 In fact, if the annals of history are any indicator at all, men’s unwarranted dominance over women will never totally end. This is a sobering thought, and it hits us with extraordinary force when we realize that we often imagine ourselves as having overcome these issues. Despite our noble efforts, our flawed human attempts at equality are nowhere close to the perfect modern model for which my friend Anthony and many others passionately yearn. Even the New Testament’s apostle Paul has views which speak to this ‘modern, yet flawed’ quandary. Speaking to a Christian church at Galatia made up of infighting, xenophobic Jews and Greeks, history’s most impactful evangelist does not mince words about the necessity of his readers’ getting along. “As many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ,” he says. “There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.”9 Though inequality and prejudice proved pervasive attitudes in the nascent Galatian church, Paul demands a higher standard based on divine calling. Our views on racial and ethnic equality mirror those expressed by Paul here, but yet again we see flaws in our modern world. The 1990s brought us genocides in
Even the most optimal amalgam of Plato’s kallipolis, the dynastic Chinese governments that relied on Confucian thought, and the sexually-unrestricted ancient Roman world do not stack up to the forthcoming kingdom described in the Bible. God will dwell amongst men and women there, righting wrongs, evicting dangerous deceivers, and revolutionizing the world as we know it. Things as common as roads and gates will be indescribably beautiful. The border will be open. Even this planet’s sun, under which both Solomon and all of us must toil, will prove unnecessary compared with the light of God. Most importantly, evil is absent and pain, tears, and suffering have departed with it.10 All should aspire to become citizens of this kingdom. But since we are incapable of establishing the theocracy of Heaven on Earth, we can only rely on biblical principles to guide the way we think. When these disagree with modernity, the Bible should have the final word every time. Some modern thoughts hold up—women and men, black and white, and rich and poor ought to be treated
8
10
“Statistics,” National Coalition Against Domestic Violence, 9. Nov. 2015, http://www.ncadv.org/learn/statistics. 9 Galations 3:27–28.
Rwanda and in Yugoslavia. The Middle East remains a powder keg, with some Palestinians and Israelis growing more vitriolic towards one another every day. Russian imperialism looms over several states in Eastern Europe. On the homefront, police brutality and gang violence have expanded the rift between races in the United States. Things do not seem to be improving; indeed, they are getting worse. Despite all our delusions of utopian grandeur, we find ourselves nowhere near a desired location in the world in terms of racial and ethnic relations. However, perhaps Paul was touching on something beyond the imperfections of society. Perhaps he meant to reference another society where the rules of the game are fundamentally different.
Despite all our delusions of utopian grandeur, we find ourselves nowhere near a desired location in the world in terms of racial and ethnic relations.
Revelation 20:10–21:27.
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as equals, for example—when put in light of the Bible.11 Others, like the affirmation of absolute sexual freedom, directly contradict God’s word.12 Thus, we must evaluate each philosophy on a case-by-case basis—simply accepting the argument “It’s 2015 and this is what we believe” will only cause our opinions to be built on a model that has been consistently redundant and imperfect for thousands of years. Through a divinely-inspired lens, we can attempt to bring things closer to perfection, but we must know that man’s fall makes ultimate success on this broken planet impossible. In that sense, we realize that Solomon wrote about today’s troubles thousands of years ago. The imperfections of modernity remind us that, under this sun, there is indeed nothing new.
Through a divinely-inspired lens, we can attempt to bring things closer to perfection, but we must know that man’s fall makes ultimate success on this broken planet impossible. Solomon is not alone with me in his observation of society’s perpetual brokenness. Modern author Paul Graham eloquently summarizes my thesis: he says, “It would be a remarkable coincidence if ours were the first 11
The aforementioned passage from Galatians is perhaps the best example of biblical affirmation of equality. 12 The Bible teaches that sex should only occur within a monogamous, heterosexual marriage, as can be seen in Mark 10:6–12, Hebrews 13:4, and Romans 1:20–27, among many other passages.
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era to get everything just right.”13 And while that fact may be frustrating to my friend Anthony, it serves to remind us of our capacity for error. Society is and will always be the same in the sense that it is and will always be flawed—we’ll get some things right, but we’ll also get some things wrong. Our thoughts and the people they first came from are imperfect, as they are components of an inexorably imperfect world. The only perfect book, one whose infallibility has been attacked and scrutinized for millennia in vain, is the Bible, the inspired Word of a perfect God. The ideas we adhere to about the way we should behave ought to stem from that inspiration. Then, although the culture we cultivate will not be perfect and may not be ‘modern,’ we can work together to construct the best society that can be built under the sun. 13 Paul Graham, “What You Can’t Say,” Paul Graham, 9. Nov. 2015, http://www.paulgraham.com/say.html.
Titus Willis (CC’18) is from semi-rural West Virginia but is now a professional subway rider after fifteen months of navigating the New York grid. He is majoring in English and minoring in Political Science. He has spent a decade pulling for the New York Mets, who recently broke his heart in the World Series. He likes to approach everything he writes with an eternal perspective, especially the work he does for CC&C.
As It Is in Heaven Momoh Osilama
From beneath me, a breadth of noble blades, verdant and bold, pursue firmament and raise me up on the tips of my toes as I join their chase. And the firmament surges its vapors and billows august blues and spurs the stretch of my reach. The beryl waves and brackish troupe of tides glint and glow, unbothered, like halos. Ardent, they soar yet plumb and crash onto golden-paved grains. The grains are urged by the torrent to speckle onto the adorned shores and mimic a cosmic luster. The stars spiral lavishly as the moon and I marvel. The felicitous sun floats into its nimbus palace and over its kingdom. Dauntless hills, low and well-worn by circumstance, pine for shepherding and closeness to their regent. Like me, they yearn for governance on Earth as it is in Heaven. Momoh Osilama (CC’16) has fallen in love with what CC&C has become over the past two years. But he has fallen more deeply in love with the God who continues to bless it.
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Asia Cunningham (BC‘17)
Running Toward Christ
I
’m almost there. At least that’s what I keep trying to tell myself. But it doesn’t seem to help. The back of the person I’m closely tailing seems to be the only thing stringing me along, because my own strength is wavering. This feeling has become all too familiar lately. As a runner, how can it not be? As my energy starts to ebb away even more quickly, I look around for any sign of hope I can use to keep me going, and I find it immediately. Lining the fence parallel to the track are dozens of spectators: teammates and friends, cheering and screaming my name and egging me on to pass the single runner in front of me and take first place. And all of a sudden I’m in a completely different race. I pick up my stride, begin to drive my arms, and start to close the ten-meter gap on the person ahead of me. I tap into an extra reserve of energy I didn’t even know I had. All I know is that I have now closed the distance to about a half-stride’s length and that the race is almost over. I am vaguely aware of a crescendoing cacophony of cheers all around, because the two of us were level with a hundred meters left to run. At this point, I’m gritting my teeth and pumping my arms even more fierce-
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Johanan Sowah
ly than before, and the sound of the bellowing crowd is all I can hear. It’s this moment that every runner knows too well: when you’re flying down the homestretch and trying your hardest to keep your form and stay strong. Because despite its insignificance in the grand scheme of everything, this race seems to be the only thing that matters during those few tense moments when you’ve got the finish line in your sights. Running has shaped what I believe is my role as a Christian in this world. Not only has it taught me how to put my faith in God as I strive for success in races, but it also has helped me realize the importance of serving others. Having been raised in the church, I have always known this concept of servanthood was crucial to the Christian life. Every week in Sunday school, my teachers told me to put others before myself. Yet sometimes these kinds of lessons don’t fully sink in until later when they reveal themselves at certain, unexpected points in life. That’s how life seems to work—at least for me. And as I came to later realize, that’s also sometimes how God reveals Himself to us.
coaches who gave their unique takes on how running was so closely intertwined with their lives. But it was on the penultimate day of camp when I heard what made my father’s words click. One man shared: “I involve myself in the sport not so much for myself, but to serve others.” He went on to speak about how he had trained for the Olympics on behalf of his loved ones, his coaches, and his fans. He also mentioned the charitable contributions he had made to improve public school education in impoverished areas. Finally, he told us about the critics he encountered when he decided to become a professional runner and take a shot at the Olympic Trials. His response to them was simple: “When you have a big enough ‘why,’ you can push all the ‘whats’ off the table.”
Running has shaped what I believe is my role as a Christian in this world. That was it! Suddenly, my father’s words came rushing back: “Leave this place better than it was before you got here.” There was my ‘why’: I run to serve others. I can say I have been of service to others when I glorify God and inspire those around me through my athletic efforts. But running is not the only way—it is just one of the many aspects of my life that I try to channel for the good of others and as worship unto God. As a Christian, my direct role is to be a servant to others by acting through Jesus Christ. Luke 6:38 states, “Give, and it will be given to you. Good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure
Rachel Chung (BC‘16)
The question of my role as a servant in God’s heavenly kingdom was one with which I grappled for quite some time, and one which I am still uncovering. And although many people have been helpful in sharing their insights on this matter, a few have given me exceptionally eye-opening advice. One of those people is my father. He was driving me home after a frustrating day of middle school and we were discussing the thoughts with which I was struggling at the moment. Even then I was going through a bit of an identity crisis. Just like many other young teens, one of my main goals was to be validated by my peers. My father gave me a single piece of advice that he had been telling himself his entire life. He said: “Be yourself, build meaningful relationships, and pass everything you know to your children.” But since I was only thirteen at the time, he altered the last bit to say, “Leave this place better than it was before you got here.” It was toward this direction that my father desired I steer my faith life: to do good and have a positive impact on the world in the name of God. I appreciated this piece of advice from my father, but I didn’t see how any of it would help me land a seat at the popular table during lunch. At the time, I didn’t believe my father’s words to be particularly profound or relevant. However, as I said before, some lessons only sink in and reveal their meaning in unexpected moments, often when you need them the most. That moment came not too long ago, at a running camp where I briefly volunteered this past summer. This program was a wonderful opportunity for me to learn life lessons from a host of inspiring speakers. Over the course of the week we heard from past Olympians and
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James Xue (SEAS‘17)
you use it will be measured back to you.” Faith should mobilize us into action. We shouldn’t wait for goodness to present itself, just like we shouldn’t simply pray that God mend our lives while we sit idly by and take no action to help ourselves. One of my ‘whats’ is my commitment as an athlete to being a runner, but it needn’t be that for everyone. Your ‘what’ need not even be an activity that directly focuses on service—it should be something about which you are passionate. As 1 Peter 4:10 instructs, “As each has received a gift, use it to serve one another, as good stewards of God’s varied grace.”
Faith should mobilize us into action. This servant attitude is what I think lots of other athletes who exalt God have already discovered. I’d like to think that this is not because they’re simply going through the motions, but because they’ve truly figured out that the purpose of their achievements is in their acts of service, whether it be directly mobilizing change through acts of charity or inspiring others to succeed. This is their ‘why,’ the reason that these individuals keep going—to live for others in the Lord’s name. I consider myself blessed to have had so many people throughout my life whom I have been able to touch through my actions. I have been a servant of my church and my school through the community work I have done, just as I am a servant unto my family and friends in the kindness and honesty I always try to display. And in turn, 35 Columbia Crown & Cross
I am a servant unto the Lord. If you’d like to know, I ended up losing the race that I mentioned earlier. But it’s okay, because I was not running for my own affirmation. I had learned to examine my motives for doing anything, whether it be sports or writing or anything else, and to always challenge myself to make sure that everything I do is a form of service unto others and God. Reminding myself of the words of the Olympic runner and the advice from my father helps me stay focused on others instead of myself. Only when I put others first can I leave a better mark on this world in the name of Jesus Christ.
Johanan Sowah (SEAS’17) is an enthusiastic and motivated young individual who loves to talk to people and travel to new places. A lifelong believer in Christ and a staunch supporter of Arsenal Football Club, he can often be found doing anything outdoorsy. Outside of schoolwork and writing, he enjoys being an NCAA Division I Track runner and engaging with Chopin and Bach on his Baby Grand.
To a Friend in Dark Days
someone whose heart breaks at the sight of our despair? He understands the profound sadness we feel when we realize someone we love is lost to us forever, that we will never find them in our lives again, no matter how hard we search. He does not want us to experience that kind of grief. The Garden was not set up so that Eve would ever turn around and find Adam gone forever. Before the Fall, He created the world so that we could always reach out and find those we love. We could always reach out and find God.
Sofia Hsieh Dear Sarah,
Do you remember Matthew 17, when Peter, James, and John saw Jesus transfigure, with Moses and Elijah beside Him talking with Him? They saw Moses and Elijah, both of whom were once so depressed that they asked God to end their lives.2 They both reappear for a short while in the New Testament, more than a thousand years after they were supposed to be gone. Death wasn’t strong enough to keep them hidden from the love of God. It was the same with Lazarus. Jesus resurrected him from his grave. Lazarus was dead, but God found him again. 2
Moses in Numbers 11:15; Elijah in 1 Kings 19:4.
Rebecca Ohaeri (CC'18)
We are the same. I’ve thought long and hard about how to begin this letter. I think I’ve gotten used to trying to comfort people from a distance. But often what is necessary and good is neither easy nor safe. In the past few days, I’ve played over and over in my mind the conversation we had that night when we curled up beside the space heater and you told me that you sometimes think about ending your life. I regret not finding the words to say to you then. I do that sometimes. I find it hard to think in the middle of conversations, so whenever someone says something I really want to think about, I disappear into my head for a while before resurfacing. I hope you didn’t misconstrue my silence as a sign of indifference toward you or as a dismissal of the gravity of your revelation in any way. That couldn’t be further from the truth. I’ve lost people in my life before. I’ve had people I think about every day, people on whom I’ve placed my love and hope, leave my life in difficult ways. The idea that I will never see them again in my lifetime is a concept I suspect I will never get used to. My mom tells me she often forgets that her father passed away years ago and thinks he’s just sleeping in the next room. It’s like that. I often have nightmares about people who left and wake up in panic and grief. And in those teary mornings, I cling to the knowledge of how Jesus reacted to the death of Lazarus. Jesus knew Lazarus had died. He asked Mary to come to Him, knowing that she was inside the house mourning for her brother. When He saw her crying and falling hopelessly at His feet, and when He heard the wails of the people grieving with her, “a deep anger welled up within Him, and He was deeply troubled.” And then He cried, too.1 What does it mean to live in a world created by
What does it mean to live in a world created by someone whose heart breaks at the sight of our despair?
1
The entire account of Lazarus’ death and resurrection can be found in John 11:1–46 (ESV).
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Hope Chang (CC'18)
From God’s perspective, death is never permanent without his say-so, but until the day Jesus comes again, death will seem permanent from my limited human perspective. When you spoke about suicide, my immediate reaction was fear. The idea that I might never see your face, that I could never hear your voice again, that there would be no possibility of my running into you in any of the places where we have hung out filled my heart with more sadness than I could articulate. If you were to leave the world, every morning I would wake up to that same broken reality, to you not being there. And how could I ever be okay with that? But this isn’t about me. You have your battles to fight every day. And in a world that increasingly encourages self-centeredness under the guise of self-actualization, and competition instead of community, maybe you feel that you are not good enough. That you are not doing enough. But that’s such an insidious lie. God made us so that we would be different and distinguishable from one another. God never cared that Leah had weak eyes.3 He made her. God didn’t mind that Paul used to be a murderer.4 He already forgave him. He gave us different gifts so that we could reflect His glory in different ways. I don’t know what you see when you look into a mirror, but when I look at you, I see God reflected in the ways of your heart and in the way you look. I would never think that a plus-or-minus-
twenty-pounds version of you would be better. I would never think a more soft-spoken or outspoken version of who you are now would be an improvement. I love you. I know you. I can tell you apart from other people by your heart and soul. I learned to do this from God, who first loved me in that way.5 We are Christians, aren’t we? Not because we are better in any way than other people, but because we’ve seen God’s grace in our lives. Because God chose to meet us in the places we’ve been. So we know that when Satan attacks, the pain will be temporary. God said, “Then you shall call, and the LORD will answer; you shall cry, and He will say, ‘Here I am.’”6 The God that made time for the mourning Mary, a woman who mattered very little to the course of history, is the God that will always listen, even as we tell Him things He already knows. He has time for us. I don’t know how to take away your sadness. There is too much I don’t see and don’t understand about life. We easily recognize spiritual attacks when they come in the form of violence and cruelty, but we spend most of our lives dealing with attacks that appear to be much more innocuous. “It’s just a K-pop video, who can it hurt?” And then a few weeks later I catch myself pinching my stomach in the mirror. We open doors to places wise people warn us not to go, thinking we’re strong enough for anything, unaware that sin is crouching at the door,
3
5
4
Genesis 29:17. Acts 9:1.
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6
1 Samuel 16:7. Isaiah 58:9.
invite other people in through honesty and vulnerability. I thank God for having made you as beautiful and wonderful as you are. I thank God for the joy of your friendship as we wait for Him to come again. I thank God for all the ways you help me remember the certainty of glorious things to come. I am still so afraid, but He is not. Remember that God loves you. He went to the cross so that He would never have to let you go.
ready to destroy the very fabric of who God made us to be. I wish I could make things easier for you. My mom recently broke her toe and has to walk around with crutches for three months. She is afraid of burdening other people, which means she probably won’t leave the house for three months. I cannot heal her with my words. But because I love her, just as I love you, I suffer with her when she is hurting. Ray Jasper, a Texas death row inmate, wrote in a cogent letter before his execution that empathy doesn't say, “If that was me.” Empathy says, “That is me.”7 Your suffering is mine as well. Just as I was happy with you when you were happy, I will weep with you as you weep.
Love and blessings, Sofia Sofia Hsieh (CC’17) was born in Taiwan. She enjoys learning about psychology and education, and loves singing and playing ukulele with her friends. Ever since she came to know God, she has given up on trying to define herself with her own words. At each moment in time, she hopes to be whoever God wants her to be.
There is so much I can’t talk about, and so much I can’t find the words to talk about. All I know is that every time I look back, I realize God has kept me safe again and again from falling off cliffs I didn’t even know were there. But when I return to the present, I still doubt whether today is an improvement from yesterday. I don’t know if I’m closer or farther away from God than I was the day before. Surely no one knows the answer to that except for Him. I don’t have words that will heal the wounds in your heart, but I promise that I will listen to anything you want to say. I pray that you will admonish me whenever I make the mistake of hearing my own projections of what I think you’re saying rather than what you actually want to say. These may be dark days for us, but it won’t always be like this. It may be the season to cry, or to grieve, or to tear down old houses, but there will be a season to laugh, to dance, and to build new things.8 I’ve been told that sometimes all it takes is to wake up one morning, and find that God had replaced darkness with light while we were asleep. Sometimes it takes more than that, but valuable things can endure the hottest furnace,9 can’t they? So let’s pray that God will make beautiful things out of these dark days. Let’s pray that God will gentle us, through our suffering, into people who never callously dismiss other people’s pain, and who earnestly 7
Hamilton Nolan, “A Letter from Ray Jasper, Who Is About to Be Executed,” Gawker, 9 Nov. 2015, http://gawker.com/a-letter-fromray-jasper-who-is-about-to-be-executed-1536073598. 8 Ecclesiastes 3:1–8. 9 Daniel 3.
Hope Chang (CC'18)
When I look at you, I see God reflected in the ways of your heart and in the way you look.
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Death’s Knock Emily Lau
Death raps his knuckles on the door— the sound like a sharp crack of thunder echoing throughout the hall. The frail figure slowly makes her way down the stairs, pausing to touch the framed pictures hanging on the walls. The sun has bleached the photos over many years, and as with hazy memories, she can no longer distinguish all the faces and scenes that were once so vividly depicted. Instead, she clings to only a vague recollection of fondness, of grief intermingled with joy, of regret mixed with hope, and of love. Death knocks again, startling her out of her reverie. She resumes her descent, her knees aching with every creaking step. Her wrinkled hand slides down the bannister, and her gold ring scrapes against the polished wood. The gold is warm, but dull, worn down day after day. She blinks slowly, knowing that it must be left behind, and it clinks softly as it settles on a nearby table. Already, it begins to grow cold, its heat lost into the air. Death, the unrelenting knocker, strikes the door once more. Like the inexorable chime of a clock when it strikes an hour, his knock is assertive, demanding, authoritative, and compulsory, but he refrains from barging in.
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He does not always wait for people to answer— sometimes he kicks in the door, busting the hinges, and splintering the wood. But today, for her, he is patient. For Death visits each in his or her own way. Today is not her first encounter with him— there were some days in the past, when, in fear, she had felt his presence near. But he had merely passed by a window like a fleeting shadow that she soon forgot. There were darker nights, when she had yearned for his company, impatient for his solemn knock. She had even tried to leave in search for him, but could bring herself to do no more than turn the knob. She knew him though, perhaps best of all, as the thief of her loved ones, snatching away those whom she was never ready to let go. Now, a full life has dulled her fear of him, and her losses have built her anticipation. As his knock echoes in her ears, she goes to meet him as she would an expected but unfamiliar guest— tentatively yet welcomingly. She gives the tireless clock one last glance, and its ticking seems to soften and slow. As she opens the heavy door, a slight draft blows past her, then all is still.
Emily Lau (CC’17) grew up in New Jersey with a deep and abiding love of books. While she enjoys many genres of literature, she has a penchant for fantasy and science fiction. Currently, she is studying English and Comparative Literature and is always on the lookout for good novels to read. She also loves worshiping God through poetry and song.
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