To An Unknown God: Spring 2015 Social Justice

table of contents

2  To An Unknown God | Spring 2015

Letter from the editor Micaela Walker

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PHILOSOPHY Miracles and Modern Society Sarah Hong

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SOCIAL JUSTICE

REFLECTION

Social Justice and the Eucharistic Life Monica Mikhail 6

Dear Orphan Emily Palmer 24

Abortion and Social Justice Allen Huang 8 Broken Bodies, Broken Hearts Lisa Ann Yu 10 The Importance of Storytelling Bon Jin Koo 12 The Justice, Glory, and Gospel of God Andrew Sum 14 Refugees and Ambassadors Elizabeth Khouri 16 Perfect Justice Zelina Gaytan 18 Service in Relationship Anna Costello 20

It is Well Jennifer Yim 26

FICTION The Burdens We Choose Sam Chang 28

Artwork photo credits Ar twork Karlee Lillywhite

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Spring 2015 | To An Unknown God  3

Letter from the Editor Dear Reader, Seven years ago, the second-ever issue of TAUG was published. The editors-in-chief at the time asked their writers and readers the question, “What should Christian social justice look like?”

The recent fatal police shootings of black men and the passionate response to those events on our campus have revealed the deep wounds that racial injustice has left not only on our country but also on our student body. It has been sobering and heart-breaking to suddenly see the suffering that men and women in our country face.

We had hoped to be able to speak to that issue through this journal, but as you advance through its pages, you will find that we have not included any article that addresses it head-on. As we tried to gather voices on the topic, few articles were submitted and we realized that many of us, myself included, lacked the vocabulary to discuss this issue in an earnest and loving way. We didn’t want to simply offer kind words and thereby trivialize the pain or co-opt a movement for our own ends. Nevertheless, we have failed.

What we have been given the vocabulary to discuss, though, and what will be enumerated over and over within the pages of this issue, is that human lives matter. And that Christian social justice (whether or not you choose to call it that) is about recognizing the humanity of our neighbors, and obeying the greatest commandment we have been given—to love.

We are disobeying that commandment if we ignore the reality of racial injustice in our country and forever remain silent. Sometimes, though, what love requires—what Christian social justice requires—is that we listen. Thabiti Anyabwile, an African-American pastor and contributor to the Gospel Coalition, recently wrote that, “Maybe the best place to start isn’t a discussion but listening and reading.” We’ve decided to take his words to heart by beginning to read and learn and develop the vocabulary that we need before we begin to speak up.

“So,” you may be wondering, “Why publish at all if you’re going to neglect the most talked-about social justice issue of our day?”

Because we follow a Lord who gave special attention to the people who were most oppressed in His society—women, children, the ill, the disabled, and those who were mistreated because of their race. Likewise, through the Bible, God has commanded us to, “seek justice and encourage the oppressed,” warned us that “the righteous care about justice for the poor but the wicked have no such concern” and urged us to “speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves.”

We believe that this journal can still address that central question which those editors posed so long ago—“What does Christian social justice look like?”

Through articles, fiction, and artwork, our contributors have tackled issues ranging from abortion to environmental concerns to the objectification of women. Each of their pieces are a story of what Christian social justice looks like—it looks like listening to someone, disadvantaging yourself, using your resources for the benefit of others. Above all, it looks a lot like Jesus. It looks like Him descending in order to relate to us humans, enslaved as we are by sin. It looks like Him caring for our physical and spiritual needs.

Most of all, though, what makes Christian social justice Christian is that it is motivated not only by a desire for the improvement of someone’s earthly life, but by a greater desire that they would be reconciled to their Creator and brought into a proper relationship with Him. In this way, Christian social justice looks like Him hanging on a cross to pay the price for every unjust act done to us, and those we’ve done to others.

Our prayer is that as you read about and think about these messy and complicated issues, your heart might be stirred—to action, to repentance, to greater acts of love.

In Christ,

Micaela Walker Editor-in-Chief

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"Therefore, the One whom you worship without knowing, Him I proclaim to you." -Acts 17:23 Editor-in-Chief Micaela Walker

Managing Editor-Designate Stephanie Yom

Viktor Palenyy Dominick Wong

Executive Editors Josh Joo Desiree Macchia

Publishers Jonathan Chen Evan Keum

Executive Editor-Designate Irene Hwang

Poetry Editor Amanda Gee

Associate Editors Ryan Chang, David Choi, Bon Jin Koo, Richard Lee, Caitlyn Lim, Olivia Wakamoto

Managing Editors Jonathan Lim Chloe Ng

Business Manager Lisa Ann Yu Decal Facilitators Laura Clark

Editors Emeriti Natalie Cha, Wesleigh Anderson, Chris Han, Sarah Cho, Stephanie Chiao, Laura Ferris, Cliff Mak, John Montague, Whitney Moret

Advisory Board Steven Fish Department of Political Science Tsu Jae King Liu Department of Electrical Engineering and Computer Sciences Jan de Vries Department of History Jeffrey Reimer Department of Chemical and Biomolecular Engineering

To An Unknown God is not affiliated with any church or any religious group. Opinions expressed in articles do not necessarily represent those of the editors. We are completely student-run and funded partly by the student body as an ASUC-sponsored student publication. Funding is also provided through individual donations.

Distribution is free while supplies last. To contact us, please email us at unknowneditors@gmail.com. Visit us at unknowngodjournal.com

Spring 2015 | To An Unknown God  5

Social Justice & the eucharistic life The hungry are perishing, the naked are freezing to death, the debtors are unable to breathe, and will you put off showing mercy until tomorrow?”

On Social Justice, Saint Basil the Great

Monica Mikhail, CONTRIBUTING WRITER

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he celebration of the Eucharist—union with Christ by partaking in His Body and Blood—was central to the identity of the early Christian community. The Mystery of the Eucharist, which means ‘thanksgiving’ in Greek, extended beyond its immediate celebration and permeated all facets of the early Christian life. The early Christian community attained a deeper understanding of the reality of the world by their continuous participation in the sacramental life of the Church. Through the liturgy of the Eucharist, they were able to see beyond the ephemeral nature of the present world and experience a taste of the everlasting Kingdom. Because the early Christian community centered itself around this mystery, they could not neglect the social injustices within their society. They strived to have their community and society mirror the complete flourishing in the age to come by addressing social needs despite this world’s temporality. They attempted to create an image of the Kingdom here on earth. A new and radical mode of living resulted from this awareness of their unity with Christ and each

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other through their communal participation in this mystery.

The early Church actively responded to social injustices by taking on the responsibility of affirming the image of God in marginalized individuals who were outcast by the Roman Empire as well as those who suffered from natural disasters. Although early Christians were not to blame for the suffering caused by social, institutionalized, and systematic oppression or the devastation caused by natural disasters, they felt obligated to tend to not only the spiritual, but bodily needs of the people whether or not they were part of the Christian community.

During a period of famine that followed a severe drought, Saint Basil of Caesarea, a 4th century Church Father, delivered a series of homilies that urged the Christian community in Caesarea to sympathize and tend to the desperate situations of their community. He zealously emphasized the ephemerality of this present materialistic world, in an attempt to encourage his congregants not to withhold anything from those who were in need. Because the community was founded upon an

interconnectedness that stretched beyond a familial unit, Basil condemned himself and the Christian community of theft if they did not express love and generosity by their actions: “When someone steals another’s clothes, we call them a thief.

Should we not give the same name to one who could clothe the naked and does not? The bread in your cupboard belongs to the hungry; the coat unused in your closet belongs to the one who needs it; the shoes rotting in your closet belong to the one who has no shoes; the money which you hoard up belongs to the poor.”2 For Basil, it was not enough simply to hope and believe in the age to come. The Mystery of the Eucharist had practical implications on the way they conducted their lives in every lived moment. In the same way that early Christians submitted their life to God by partaking of the Eucharist, they were called to submit daily to God by continuously giving from their material wealth that was gifted to them by God for the profit of everyone.

By investing in a life that continues beyond the life on this earth, the early Christian community approached the materiality of the world in a detached manner. They were mere sojourners passing a short while on this earth. Their possessions meant nothing ultimately. Although the Church was not the source of the injustices in their community, they believed those who were wasteful or did not give freely exacerbated the suffering of others.

In that sense, they were guilty of theft as well as communing with the dying world as if earthly possessions would not, too, wither away. Failing to display the free and generous love of Christ by giving away what He gave them indicated a lack of hope in God, the Church, and the world to come.

Saint John Chrysostom, a contemporary of Basil, vocalized similar sentiments regarding the Church’s appropriate response to social injustice. John Chrysostom was, however, more explicit in tracing suffering wrought by the state as an institutional manifestation of the people’s spiritual disease. He took a critical spiritual approach to analyzing social phenomena and ascertaining its implications on the Christian community and society at large. John Chrysostom presented practicing social justice as an individual responsibility and liability in regards to communion with the God and the Church. In For the Life of the World, Protopresbyter Alexander Schmemann makes this connection more explicit: “For one who thinks food in itself is the source of life, eating is the communion with the dying world, it is communion with death. Food itself is dead, it is life that has died and it must be kept in refrigerators like a corpse.”3 For early Christians, one either communes with Life or death within the world. Practicing social justice was a literal manifestation of a commitment made to God, the Church and the Life of the world amidst the presence of death.

By participating in the celebration of the Eucharist, the early Christian community was expected to practice social justice and alleviate the suffering of others by practicing sacrificial selfgiving. They were encouraged to give, in the words of St. Paul, “beyond their ability,” often out of their own poverty. Neglecting the despair of those inside and outside their Christian community showed an investment in the fading and lackluster world full of empty pleasures. But they were called to another world, and their giving was to be a manifestation of that faith.

The Apostle Paul rebuked the Corinthians for the injustice present in their celebration of the Eucharist. When early Christians congregated together in the same place, commonly known as church, they partook in the mystery and distributed resources amongst each other. However, Paul hears that in the gathering of the Corinthians, not everyone is treated equally so he rebukes them for their un-Christian behavior: “For in eating, each one takes his own supper ahead of others; and one is hungry and another is drunk. What! Do you not have houses to eat and drink in? Or do you despise the church of God and shame those who have nothing?”4 By breaking communion with each other through their misconduct, they undermined their union in the body of Christ.

To invest in the world was to divest from God and actively refuse communion with the Church in Him through the Eucharist.

The early Christian community invested in God and the life to come by responding to injustices within society by offering their material possessions for the comfort of others. They did so precisely because they knew all too well that this is exactly what Christ has done on their behalf. The early Church valued the poor, encouraged the rich to give and, more importantly, found worth in every individual whether or not they belonged to the Church. They presented a radical way of living by offering witness to the humanity in all people constituted by God while existing in a world that forgot its poor, lowly, and sick. Practicing social justice reached its most complete and perfect form in the celebration of the Eucharist -- the celebration of God in Christ giving himself for the wellbeing of the world, and the church followed suit in giving itself for the sake of the world.

1. Basil of Caesarea; Schroeder, C. Paul. On Social Justice. Crestwood, N.Y.: St. Vladimir’s Seminary, 2009. Print.

2. Ibid.

3. Schmemann, Alexander. For the Life of the World: Sacraments and Orthodoxy. Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary, 1973. Print 4. 1 Corinthians 11:21-22 Monica Mikhail studies English Literature and Integrative Biology at UC Berkeley. She enjoys binge-reading, reveling in the company of others, and investing in short-lasting hobbies.

Spring 2015 | To An Unknown God 7

Abortion and Social Justice

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Allen Huang, CONTRIBUTING WRITER hen I arrived at college, it took me a while to join my school’s pro-life group. I could theoretically wrap my head around the idea that terminating fetuses amounted to taking innocent human life. The thing was, being at a very socially conscious college opened my eyes to the myriad types of other suffering and affronts to human dignity in the world.

Racially motivated violence still marred our streets. The homeless still slept out in the cold. Countless humans were being used for sex against their will. Child laborers on the other side of the world made products I purchased.

In the face of all that, fetuses the size of periods on this page just didn’t seem that important to me anymore. The pro-life community seemed myopic in its seeming obsession for them, even if they were unborn humans.

A lot of my friends were in a variety of groups pushing for social justice and change. There was a group that advocated for the local homeless, one organization brought more awareness to the genocide in Darfur, and another group tutored low-income children in the area. These were just several among literally hundreds of amazing student organizations doing great things.

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As for me, I joined a group that dealt with reform of our criminal justice system and the notorious school-to-prison pipeline faced by young African-American men from tough neighborhoods and cities.

In addition to broadening my horizon beyond the abortion issue, I had another motive. I was a Christian. I wanted to show my secular friends that Christians cared about all issues. And that Jesus cared about everything they cared about.

But perhaps I was the one being myopic. Deep into the school year, I found myself free one weekday evening on a night that the pro-life group met. That night’s meeting was going to be a talk by a biology student on the pro-life position. I thought I’d go, even though interiorly I had developed some pride that made me think I was more enlightened than them and had a bigger heart.

The center of his talk was proving that fetuses were human beings. He argued that that the life of a human organism begins at conception. It does not depend on the organism’s location, capabilities, or physical features. And if fetuses are human beings, then abortion should be the most pressing social justice issue our generation faces.

For starters, the language that we use can seem to detract from

the issue it involves. Take “fetus,” for example. Most pro-choice advocates would agree that during a woman’s pregnancy, the entity within her womb is called a fetus, rather than a baby. But if the fetus in the womb is not a human being, what is it? According to the Oxford English Dictionary, “fetus” actually describes a stage in biological development, not the essence of its being. There are dog fetuses, but they are still dogs. There are “teenagers,” but they are not species unto themselves, however strange they might seem. They are humans at another stage of development.

From the moment that the sperm fertilizes the egg, a new human organism exists with its own DNA. Left alone, it will grow into later stages of development. Around the sixth week, the heart will begin to beat. The next week, though the fetus is only the size of a pencil eraser, the nostrils are present. In eight weeks, the eyes are visible. By the twelfth week, the fetus will have fingernails.1 A woman certainly has the right to do what she wishes with her body, as should anyone else. But one woman does not have two hearts, two heads, and two sets of DNA. Some object to the personhood of fetuses because they are inside the mother. However, we do not, or should not, deny a person’s humanity based on where he or she lives. The question is where and when you began. Did you really begin only when you came out of your mother’s womb? Or earlier?

Others say the fetus cannot be human because it cannot support itself. But we do not even use this metric in other situations, at least not to decide a person’s dignity. The United States does not consider a person totally self-sufficient until they are 18 years old, but we still consider them part of the human family.

And some define humanity by intellectual capacity, yet civilized societies do not deny the mentally ill the right to live. Would it be right to pick and choose when to apply this definition of humanity?

Everyone would agree that a fetus can be a great burden on any woman facing an unplanned pregnancy, especially if the father is not in the picture. However, if a person is a person, we cannot allow the value of one human life to devalue the other.

If a family suddenly falls into poverty and cannot support their children, society does not give the parents the right to kill their children.

There is no doubt that we need to eradicate the factors that lead to abortions, such as poverty and a lack of resources for single mothers. The pro-life community is composed of many diverse peoples who do a lot to solve those issues.2 In no other situation, though, do we allow the killing of victims because we cannot quickly solve the problems that victimize them.

The greatest burden for the woman, more than an unplanned pregnancy, is the burden of living but knowing that she felt her circumstances forced her to terminate a human life within her.

Thirteen studies in the last twenty years have found that abortion is linked to depression or anxiety.3 Abortion sends a message to a woman that we cannot do better for her and help her in her need and time of struggle--that we don’t care enough to expend the resources necessary to support another human being. Abortion hurts women, both the unborn woman and her mother. But we can do better for them.

We live in a visual world. Our hearts are moved when we see suffering – when we see maimed bodies and starved children. But suffering that is not seen is still suffering. Abortion is silent. It is a seemingly clean way to brush our personal and social problems into the shadows. But it is still death and it is still wrong.

I left that pro-life meeting convinced that fetuses were humans and all humans have rights. And when almost three thousand human lives are silently taken every day in our country4, there is no social injustice that cries out more loudly. It is a foundational injustice that says no to the first of all human rights – the right to life. If the world does not face the tragedy of abortion head-on, the fight for all other rights becomes meaningless. It is not one issue among many. It’s three thousand issues. Three thousand people. If three thousand people died from gun violence every day in America, or if we were engaged in a war that killed three thousand of our troops every day, we would not tolerate the status quo for one more day.

This is why the pro-life community considers abortion a social justice issue. Innocent lives are ended every day, and justice cries out for an end to this tragedy. Fight poverty. Fight human trafficking. Fight genocide, and every other battle worth waging.

But we cannot forget the smallest and the weakest amongst us.

We invite you to join us in serving our unborn brothers and sisters and advocating for building a strong foundation for social justice for all humans.

Please email berkeley4life@gmail.com to find out about meetings and ways to help.

1.www.mayoclinic.org/healthy-living/pregnancy-week-by-week/in-depth/ prenatal-care/art-20045302?pg=1 2.www.nytimes.com/2013/01/05/health/pregnancy-centers-gain-influence-inanti-abortion-fight.html?_r=0. There are some 2,500 crisis pregnancy centers in the United States. Many also help women find education and jobs.

3. See Carlo Bellieni and Giuseppe Buonocore, Abortion and Subsequent Mental Health: Review of the Literature. 67 Psychiatry and Clinical Social Sciences 5:301310 (2013).

4.www.guttmacher.org/pubs/fb_induced_abortion.html.

The

Guttmacher

Institute is the research arm of Planned Parenthood. According to the institute, 1.06 million abortions were performed in 2011 in the United States. That is an average of 2,904 abortions per day.

Allen Huang is a third-year law student who enjoys all forms of potato dishes.

Spring 2015 | To An Unknown God 9

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hat were your expectations when you arrived at UC Berkeley as a new student?

I expected hard classes, dirty buildings, overpriced books, and high crime rates. Sadly, most of those expectations have been met. I did not expect, however, to see so many disabled students: the girl in my statistics class who rolled in on a wheelchair, the guy with a walking stick who accidentally hit people’s feet in front of him, the girl with her guide dog who almost stepped into a busy street, and the guy on the shuttle who spoke very slowly and kept randomly talking to me.

My second semester at Berkeley, I applied to scribe

Broken Bodies, Broken Hearts Lisa Ann Yu, CONTRIBUTING WRITER 10 To An Unknown God | Spring 2015

for a blind student who needed help with math and chemistry because I had a little extra time on my hands and wanted to have an income. When the student asked for an interview, I wearily went to meet him, believing it would be a long and difficult conversation. I expected Newton to be in a wheelchair, assuming that was the easiest mode of transportation for someone who could not see. I expected him to be slow, having only been accepted to Berkeley because he was a “diversity student.” I expected him to be annoying and take advantage of everyone, knowing people felt sorry for him. Instead, I found him to be as normal as any Cal student (which is admittedly not saying much). He joked with me about how dorm food sucks and how I lived in the nerdy dorms (yes, I lived in Foothill). I was humbled as I realized I had forgotten that a disabled person was still a person. Only Newton’s eyes were literally broken, as they “did not function as they should,” yet I wrongly assumed his mind was also broken, and he would be extremely limited in all abilities.

A year later, I learned brokenness reaches far beyond broken bodies or minds after leading a Bible study for the very first time.

The hour flew by so fast, and we covered almost no ground and only succeeded in confusing our fellow Bible study mates. Worse, I felt like there was a disconnect between my mind and my mouth, and I could not express anything in a way that was understandable to others. I mentally attacked myself, believing I was worthless and would never be used by God to reach others, would never become a leader within my ministry, and would never be taken as more than a joke or space-filler. The disabled people I met were literally broken, as their eyes did not see as they should, their legs did not move as they should, and their minds did not function as they should. But I felt socially broken, disabled in a way no one would suspect upon first meeting me. I realized I was broken in so many other ways, some of which were inherently displeasing to God and some of which were not. I am not only not able to say exactly what I mean, but I also do not love unconditionally, do not serve those around me with a joyful heart, do not rejoice with others when they acquire things I desire, and do not withhold judgment upon first meeting an individual. I may not wear my brokenness on my sleeve like a disabled person might, but I am still broken. And I realized that everyone is broken, no matter how polished his or her life may look on the outside.

In the week after that Bible study, I stumbled across 2 Corinthians 12:9-10 while reading a friend’s testimony, a testimony I had asked for over two months before but had only received then, when I most needed to hear it. Paul pleads for the “thorn in his flesh” (we don’t know what this was, but some possibilities offered by scholars include epilepsy, depression, carnal temptation, persecution, or remembrance of his past1) to be removed. Jesus denied his request, but gave Paul an even greater gift: the reminder that “[His] grace is sufficient for you,

for [His] power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore, Paul is able to say, “I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”

I was full of weaknesses. But that passage reminded me that God uses my weaknesses as a backdrop against which His perfect power can be more clearly displayed. Just as people are so in awe of the disabled who function “normally,” they should also be in awe of my God when I function the way I was made to work, despite the broken condition of my heart. It is when I am broken that God’s power is shown most clearly, and I can therefore be content with the person God made me to be, and even boast in my inherent weaknesses.

Recognizing my brokenness (inability to function the way I was designed) should make me broken (contrite, sorrowful, or subdued). God is “near to the brokenhearted,”2 not because I am at my worst when I am broken, but because I best understand the dichotomy between who I am and who He has made me to be when I am broken. A day is coming in which God will completely heal the brokenness in my heart and I will function the way I was created to, as I live in perfect communion with Him without guilt or jealousy or pain.

What does this mean for the disabled community living among us at Berkeley? Although they are broken on the outside, they share the same inner brokenness all humans have, namely that of falling short of who they were created to be. They also have the same needs and longings all humans have, the need to be known, loved, and understood, and we should treat them accordingly.

Focusing only on their disability, which makes them different from able-bodied people, while ignoring their personality, feelings, and interests is dehumanizing. Paul Isaacs, a nationally acclaimed speaker with autism, said, “I do have disability…but I am a human being first and foremost. And for someone to be seen as person equal to everyone else is a basic human right.”3 However, treating the disabled exactly like able-bodied people is also inappropriate. My friend Josh who has cerebral palsy told me I have the privilege of being the hands and feet of Jesus as I serve him by helping him fill his water bottle or holding the door for him. I laughed when he told me that, but his comment changed my perspective on my interactions with the disabled.

The Church is also called the body of Christ,4 and as “stronger” parts of any body help the “weaker” parts in order to help the whole body function better, so should the able-bodied serve the physically and mentally impaired to help the whole body perform optimally. Furthermore, Jesus came to earth to serve humanity,5 primarily by taking the punishment we deserved for displeasing God, but also by feeding the hungry and healing the sick. I have

the opportunity to be like Jesus to those around me, including the disabled, by serving them tangibly, even if simply in small ways. However, the greatest way to serve someone is to introduce him or her to Jesus, who alone can fix the primary problem of a broken heart.6 In addition to an opportunity to serve, the disabled also offer a constant reminder that God can – and does – use broken people. Why are people so in awe of Joni Eareckson Tada, a quadriplegic who paints with her mouth? Or Ludwig van Beethoven, a deaf composer? Or John Nash, a renowned mathematician with schizophrenia? Isn’t it because we see their disabilities as limitations that they have managed to overcome to reach levels on par with, if not far above, “normal” human abilities? Likewise, God fills in between the cracks of my limitations and weaknesses, allowing me to step into the person I was made to be, every once in a while. He uses me in my brokenness to display His strength. God uses the disabled as an encouragement to the able-bodied, a sweet reminder that He is at work in the world, and that with His help, anything is possible.

1. www.blueletterbible.org/faq/thorn.cfm 2. Psalm 34:18 (ESV) 3. https://theisaacs22.wordpress.com/category/communication/ page/2/ 4. 1 Corinthians 12:27 (ESV) 5. Matthew 20:28 (ESV) 6. Isaiah 61:1 (ESV) Lisa Ann is a somewhat socially awkward junior who feels honored to be used by God both within her ministry, Cru, and outside it.

Spring 2015 | To An Unknown God 11

The Importance of Storytelling

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Bon Jin Koo, STAFF WRITER torytelling is largely an oral tradition but today storytelling can be found in almost any kind of medium. I love telling stories by word of mouth, and my friends tell me that I am good at telling them. When I ask them why, they give me a variety of answers ranging from the disturbing accuracy to which I imitate the people that are involved in the story to the way I choose the stories I tell. As I mentioned before, storytelling takes many forms: YouTube, movies, theatrical productions, music, Twitter, news aggregate sites, just to name a few from a seemingly infinite list.

Storytellers influence society in subtle ways and somehow influence the way we share stories with each other as well. News organizations shout headlines on the latest ISIS attacks but also recent celebrity divorces. Comedians tell hilarious stories but sometimes at the cost of using explicit language. Even though we could care less about the divorces, we allow such gossip to pervade our conversations. Even though we know such explicit language is unedifying, we laugh at it anyway. This may not be a cause for concern but consider how many people become aware of a social injustice through a story. Whether it is a documentary on human trafficking or an article depicting gender inequality in the workplace, social justice also has many mediums in which we can engage. If we allow gossip and explicit material to take the focus of our attention, where is the room for the stories that we need to hear?

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One simple way we can contribute to social justice is to become storytellers, or at the very least become discerning listeners able to distinguish stories that are worthy of our attention. Before we can get up in arms and take some concrete steps toward giving voice to an injustice, like female inequality, we need to care about it. How can we watch Fifty Shades of Gray yet fight for female rights? If someone says they are passionate about fighting hunger in impoverished communities, I would have a hard time believing him if he spends much of his day fighting some virtual enemy in a video game. I am not saying that we should revolve all our activities and thoughts on social justice constantly, but when we take the conscious effort to elevate our conversations, we not only potentially influence the passions of our friends but our own as well.

Take social media for example. If someone posts an article on Facebook or tweets a video clip concerning human trafficking, we can easily condemn that person in our minds, especially if we know that person only posted it to get attention. Why not show grace and initiate a conversation instead? Even if we do not condemn the person, let us challenge ourselves to resist the consumer mindset toward stories, as simply digesting a story makes it no different from any other video or news piece we read. When we allow the words and ideas of a story, great or small, fiction or nonfiction, to fuel our actions, we deem that story worthy of our attention.

When I watched the documentary Nefarious: Merchant of Souls, I felt my passion for fighting human sex trafficking soar. I quickly looked for ways I could help, and I found myself in the Berkeley chapter of International Justice Mission (IJM). However, as the months went by, the emotions faded away. Different stories occupied my life. The story of my own success became center stage. I had no time to care about sex trafficking‌ my grades, my social life, my career opportunities became more important.

Besides, what could a student like me do?

If you find your story similar to mine, do not lose hope. As students, a daunting task such as the abolition of human trafficking seems like an impossible goal. If we believe in the voices that claim we cannot do anything as students, we only strengthen the very injustices we try to fight against. Awareness of an injustice is better than none. Discussion is better than going about our day mindlessly consuming stories we forget the next hour. However, even if we do have the resources to tackle such a thing like the abolition of human trafficking, we will discover that something much deeper is at the root of such an injustice. We never seem to solve any social injustices. We make advancements on one, while more problems arise in another. What can stop this endless cycle?

While I urge you to ask yourselves why you should believe in social justice or why you should care about it, in the context of a world that you will eventually die in, why care at all? When we turn our eyes away from the obvious brokenness of our world

and choose to remain in our immaturity, a meaningful conversation to discuss, address, and discover possible solutions to social justice remains buried. Here in this journal, Christianity offers itself as a story that can be the solution to social justice. I am not saying Christianity is undisputedly the answer; the combined efforts of non-Christians and Christians alike are nothing to cough at, but are they enough? The gospel of Jesus Christ is the story of God descending into the limits of time and space; he became a man to relate with us, love us, and ultimately die for the brokenness we fruitlessly try to fix within ourselves. This story is one that demands our attention.

I still care deeply about human sex trafficking; however, no amount of money I donate or the combined effort of IJM will completely destroy the established evils of this injustice. Yet, millions of other Christians and I will meet this injustice with our donations, overseas volunteer work, and prayers nonetheless because we know the gospel story to be true. A story that stars humanity might result in less human trafficking and some saved lives, but a story that stars Jesus Christ results in the salvation of all people and hope to a heaven with no trafficking at all. Most of us long for this kind of story to unfold in the injustices we face today. But before we can consider Christianity let alone any story at all, our ears must be ready to listen.

Bon Jin enjoys all kinds of ice cream (preferably vanilla) and listening to ambient music that makes most sleepy.

Spring 2015 | To An Unknown God  13

THE JUSTICE, GLORY, AND

GOSPEL OF GOD I

Andrew Sum, CONTRIBUTING WRITER f we are to understand anything in this world, we must understand it the way God ordains it. It follows that if we are to understand justice in any sense, we must understand God’s absolute justice as revealed to us in His Word. In doing so I hope that a theological foundation would be laid upon which the Church might proceed with regards to the issue of justice here on Earth without crumbling under the weight of secular influence.

Some might argue over the practical implications of such a study, “What does this have to do with human suffering? How does this affect those in poverty? What about prison reform? I don’t need your pie in the sky theology, give me something practical!”

Though these are noble causes, we must recognize that there is nothing more practical and valuable than the glory of God. His glory is the end for which the universe exists (Isaiah 43:7). The word glory conveys a sense of weightiness. It is essentially the showing forth of God’s numerous perfections. To act righteously is to count God’s glory as supremely and infinitely valuable and to devalue that glory is the greatest imaginable injustice. Yet, sinners (everyone) who have trampled on the glory of God are allowed to live. The Bible has a word for such an attitude. It’s called idolatry.

Reader, do you feel the weight of this injustice?

But not only do men devalue the glory of God, it seems that even God, in allowing sinful men to live, does not uphold the infinite worth of His glory. Is God then an idolater who does not even care about His own glory? Of course, the biblical answer is a resounding “NO!” But we must understand how the Bible shows God as perfectly just and righteous in condemning sin, upholding His glory, and allowing sinners to live. To do so, we turn to the book of Romans. While doing so, we must operate under a biblical understanding of “the righteousness (justice) of God.” John Piper defines the righteousness of God as, “most basically, His commitment to act unswervingly for His own name’s sake and thus display His glory.”

Some have said that the book of Romans is the greatest book in the Bible. Paul writes this to Roman Christians almost as if he were writing a missionary letter, asking for their support as he passes through Rome. It reads like a theological treatise and, 14 To An Unknown God | Spring 2015

more specifically, it details the precious, multi-faceted nature of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. The thesis of the book is found in Romans 1:16-17: "For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek. For in it the righteousness of God is revealed from faith to faith; as it is written" Do you see what Paul says here about the righteousness of God (It must be noted here that in the book of Romans, the Greek word for righteousness and justice are exactly the same)?

He says it is revealed in the Gospel! We must therefore look to the Gospel if we are to understand the justice of God. The two cannot be separated.

Paul goes on to write the entire book of Romans building upon this idea that the Gospel is the revelation of the righteousness of God. Nowhere is this theme more clearly put forward than in Romans 3:21-26: "But now apart from the Law the righteousness of God has been manifested, being witnessed by the Law and the Prophets, even the righteousness of God through faith in Jesus Christ for all those who believe; for there is no distinction; for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, being justified as a gift by His grace through the redemption which is in Christ Jesus; whom God displayed publicly as a propitiation in His blood through faith. This was to demonstrate His righteousness, because in the forbearance of God He passed over the sins previously committed; for the demonstration, I say, of His righteousness at the present time, so that He would be just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus."

This is a profound reality, especially considering the backdrop upon which this truth is brought forth. Paul’s words “But now” point to the depths of sin that are described in the first three chapters. God’s verdict is that all men suppress the truth in unrighteousness (1:18) exchange God’s glory for the glory of created things (1:23), maintain a stubborn, unrepentant heart (2:5) and the list goes on. Because of this, all men are deserving of God’s holy, righteous wrath (1:18, 2:5). The human condition

is summed up in that “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” (3:23) It is with this in mind that Paul’s “but now” has its full impact.

These calculated words signify a change in the direction of the argument. The immediate outpouring of God’s wrath against sinners would be a clear revelation of God’s justice. But notice here that God’s righteousness is manifested “apart from the Law” (that is, apart from mere obedience to the Law) and that this righteousness is “through faith in Jesus Christ.” It is clear that this is the same “righteousness of God” as put forth in Romans 1:16-17, namely, the righteousness of God demonstrated in the Gospel.

So, finally, we come to the question. How is the Gospel the revelation of the righteousness of God or, in other words, how does the Gospel show God’s commitment to uphold His glory?

Isn’t the Gospel the news of Jesus becoming a man, dying on the cross to pay the penalty for our sins, and rising from the dead so that we could have eternal life? It is certainly no less than that. This is seen in that God “displayed [Jesus] publicly as a propitiation.” The word propitiation conveys the idea of a wrathsatisfying sacrifice. As Christians, we must get this right! God is wrathful in both the Old Testament and the New Testament. He shows His wrath by punishing His own Son so that all who would have faith in Him might have their sins paid for! What a precious truth this is! This is the truth that converted us and makes us Christians. Even more, belief (or faith) is the vessel by which we receive the Gospel (3:22) because it excludes all human boasting (3:27) and points to the goodness of our Savior who shows sinners unmerited favor. God upholds His glory in the Gospel by showing that He alone is the all-sufficient, initiating, saving God. But in this passage, Paul says the Gospel message has a greater purpose than simply giving us eternal life! For in the Gospel, God, who is unchangeable in His commitment to uphold the value of His own glory, most clearly shows His righteous, loving, holy character. This is apparent in verse 25. The purpose of Christ’s redemptive work is to “demonstrate God’s righteousness, because in the forbearance of God He passed over the sins previously committed.” Were God to continue only in patient forbearance, without punishing (“passing over”) our sins, He would have no claim to holy justice and He would indeed be an unrighteous God, unworthy of worship. But in placing the sins of the world on Christ, God shows Himself both patient and just. There is no one else who could uphold such seemingly contradictory characteristics, yet God does this in the Gospel! God upholds His glory in the Gospel by demonstrating His singular character.

Paul continues to rise to greater heights of God-honoring truth as he describes the uniquely sovereign purposes of God. In verse 26, after reemphasizing that the Gospel is “for the demonstration… of His righteousness at the present time,” he

explains that God’s purpose in divine forbearance and justice is “so that He would be just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus” (emphasis mine). This is strange, especially considering that the Bible says that “He who justifies the wicked… [is] an abomination to the Lord” (Proverbs 17:15). It is certainly abominable for sinful men to declare other sinful men innocent.

But Paul argues that this same standard cannot apply to God. He is the only One who stays completely just while “justifying the ungodly” (Romans 4:5). God upholds His glory by showing His sovereign hand over all creation in that He alone has the divine right and power to declare sinners righteous.

The Gospel is a revelation of the righteousness and justice of God. It is not merely the means by which we inherit eternal life, but it is rooted and grounded in God’s commitment to uphold the glory of His name in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. We see this in the words “in His blood.” (Romans 3:25).

Pastor John Piper sums it up in this way, “Everything Jesus suffered, he suffered for the sake of God's glory. Therefore, all his pain and shame and humiliation and dishonor served to magnify the Father's glory, because it shows how infinitely worthy God's glory is that such a loss should be suffered for his sake. When we look at the wracking death of the perfectly innocent and infinitely worthy Son of God on the cross and hear that he endured it all that the glory of his Father might be restored, then we know that God has not denied the value of his own glory, he has not been untrue to himself, he has not ceased to uphold his honor and display his glory, he is righteous.

The awful death of the Son is the means whereby the Father can be both righteous himself and the one who justifies the ungodly who have faith in Jesus.”1 In conclusion, what we see is that God’s justice cannot be separated from the cross of Jesus Christ. Reader, I exhort you, as you think about issues of justice keep in mind the foundation of God’s justice as demonstrated in the objective news of the Gospel. If Christians are not dedicated to the verbal proclamation of the Gospel, who will be? It is the ordained means by which God upholds His own glory and saves sinners (Romans 10:14-15) and to attempt to glorify God apart from a commitment to this Gospel as the highest good would bring no glory to God at all.

For further study on this topic see The Justification of God, John Piper or God Glorified in Man’s Dependence, Jonathan Edwards 1. "How is it Right to Justify the Ungodly?", John Piper, 1981. desiringgod.com 2. Verses cited are from the New American Standard Bible

Andrew Sum is a sinner saved and sustained by God's grace. He is a third year studying bioengineering.

Spring 2015 | To An Unknown God 15

16  To An Unknown God | Spring 2015

refugees AND

AMBASSADORS

I

Elizabeth Khouri, CONTRIBUTING WRITER ’ve spent the past few semesters working with refugees. I used to be surprised at how much I identified with their stories, until one day I realized that, in a way, I, too, am a refugee. A refugee is someone who has been forced to leave his or her home country and cannot ever return due to a threat of persecution. God created me (and you) to live with Him in Eden, characterized by what Cornelius Plantinga calls “universal flourishing, wholeness, and delight.”1 In Eden, people would encourage and truly treasure one another. Students would freely rejoice in the academic success of another, even in curved classes.

Government officials would always tell the truth and cooperate with one another. Trains would always be clean and on time. No one would ever go to bed with an empty stomach. Each human would vibrantly, exuberantly reflect the glory of God through his or her own inimitable experiences and essence. All humans would look to God, walk with God, lean on God, and delight in God. Eden is our home country; it is what we were created for.

But the advent of sin into the world means that we were forced out of this country. We find ourselves in an undeniably broken world, characterized by poverty, injustice, and disappointment.

Because we have engraved on our hearts a deep collective memory of Eden, we feel that the world has somehow betrayed us. Because we know how things are supposed to be, we have a deep sense that the world is not as it should be, that something has gone wrong. Just as the refugees with whom I work long to return to their home countries, we long to return to Eden. We ache for a better world because we belong to a better world.

Recently, however, I’ve been thinking that a better way to describe the state of the Christian is not that of a refugee, but that of an ambassador. Refugees hope to return but are denied access, and helplessly bide their time, whereas ambassadors willingly go where they are needed. We were not simply banished from somewhere, but we were temporarily sent somewhere.

Rather than helplessly longing for what we’ve left behind, we are to proudly represent our home country until we are called back.

This is especially true in my life, since I will be the first to

admit that I do not face the hardship that characterizes the lives of refugees. But it is also not easy to be an ambassador. We must embody the character of our home country, following laws and customs that are not necessarily known or even welcome in the host nation. We must represent the message of a leader that we cannot see. We live in one country, but are responsible to another.

We are to be in the world, not of it.

So while both metaphors capture part of our identity and relationship to God, neither capture it fully, and neither apply to all people at all times. Refugees are defined by their victimhood, and ambassadors are defined by their position and status.

However, because we have sinned, we were not unjustly banished like refugees, nor are we qualified to be ambassadors. Instead, our identity is wrapped up – definitively and irrefutably – in the character and being of God himself. God sees to the very core of our dark, slimy hearts and, astonishingly, loves us nonetheless.

No single metaphor could ever capture this—the gravity, ardor, mystery, and ineffable joy of our relationship with Jesus.

This is what we can know for sure: He has entrusted us with the most astounding task ever entrusted to a set of human beings, far beyond our roles as either refugees or ambassadors: we are to bring Eden to earth. His goal for us is not simply to change a few hearts here and there, but to project the Kingdom of God on a world scale. This will involve nothing less than the replacing of the whole world order, founded as it is on exploitation, greed, and striving, with a new order founded on mercy, justice, and love. This new order will supplant all other kingdoms and be the final order for all people for all time. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away. And in that way we will, at last, return to our home country.

1. Cornelius Plantinga Jr., Not the Way It’s Supposed to Be, A Brevity of Sin. (Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing 1996), 10.

Elizabeth Khouri’s goal in life is to make the law work for the poor. She collects Russian nesting dolls and has probably stolen flowers from your front yard.

Spring 2015 | To An Unknown God 17

PERFECT JUSTICE I Zelina Gaytan, CONTRIBUTING WRITER f there is one university that looks upon its students as agents of social justice, it’s Berkeley. This is where the Free Speech Movement was founded, and even today, Berkeley has an array of programs and events for student interested in making an impact on society for equality: Alternative Breaks, JusticeCorps, etc. Just a couple of months ago, we heard the undying cries for justice on behalf of African-American young men in the wake of Ferguson and then for the 43 college students murdered in Mexico. It was through a Spanish course here at Berkeley that I personally became involved in working for a social justice cause. I volunteer at the East Bay Sanctuary and Covenant, a sanctuary that advocates for immigrant rights and helps political refugees establish themselves here in the U.S. on safe grounds. I help refugees who have their residency and are on a journey to gain U.S citizenship. It’s here where I have started to consider the limitations of humans in bringing about full justice and have been convicted that we can’t separate social justice (or even the idea of “justice”) from the God who created us.

For my adult students at the Sanctuary and Covenant, all of whom are members of indigenous groups in Guatemala, passing the citizenship test means that they are firmly established as American citizens and, most importantly, that nobody can take their rights away. Historically they have been denied this recognition (and the basic human rights that follow it) in their

18 To An Unknown God | Spring 2015

home country because of systemic discrimination due to their race. One of my students, Agustina, has her citizenship interview this Friday. With her baby carefully wrapped in her reboso, we go over everything from American history facts to tough questions that citizenship officials might pose. I take a deep breath and ask...

“How did you come to the U.S.?”

“I walked through the desert in Arizona.”

“Why did you come to the U.S.?”

“There was war in Guatemala; the soldiers would harass us because we were Mayan. They killed my father and my family had to leave. I came to the U.S. to find safety. I feel safe here.”

This is the story that many of my students share, and knowing this, I do the best I can to help them get what every human being deserves – the right to live with dignity and protected human rights. But I know it’s not enough, it’s not complete justice; they may gain for themselves and their children safety and rights here in the U.S., but that’s not going to fix the internal pain and brokenness caused by the murder of their loved ones or even help the damage done to them by corrupt men. To make matters worse, it’s highly possible that these perpetrators will never be arrested or punished. Agustina, like all of my students, needs a savior, not just a socio-political one, but one that can actually

redeem her from pain and sin that has made deep wounds in her soul. But we are all left wondering who can go so far as to bring full justice to everyone on this earth? I appeal that the only reasonable answer is God. Isaiah 30 gives us this picture of who God is, “Therefore the LORD longs to be gracious to you, and therefore He waits on high to have compassion on you. For the LORD is a God of justice; how blessed are all those who long for Him.”1 It assures that God is compassionate and graceful (forgiveness is an unmerited gift), yet how can a God of justice bring to justice Agustina pain, and yet be merciful to the murders? 2 Corinthians 5:21 explains that God made “him [Jesus Christ] who knew no sin to be sin on our behalf, so that we might become the righteousness of God in him.”2 On the cross there is a trade-off – Jesus trades his clean record, his righteousness, for our sins, our crimes and damaging deeds, and pays the justice those deeds. Why would a holy God be willing to give a piece of himself to be put to death for being evil, corrupted? It happened so that that I can be able to tell my student, “Agustina, God saw what happened to your dad, so he found the murderer guilty and sentenced him to death on a Roman cross. You can have peace now.” Yes, because that’s what Jesus did on the cross, he took the sins of everybody, including the sins of the Guatemalan soldiers, and paid the justice for them, regardless of whether they actually felt regretful about them or

changed their evil ways. That’s the love of God for Agustina.

It’s the same for me and you: if you’ve gone through injustice and your perpetrator got away from it, you can look at the cross of Christ and see that sin is up there too. God has gifted you Justice at the price of his own life. That’s God’s love for you.

Believe it or not, it doesn’t stop there. Just like we can be the victims of other people’s bad actions, deep down within us we know we have caused hurt and damage to others – whether by things that we did or didn’t do. The cry for justice also calls us up to respond to our actions. Christ on the cross also covers those sins.

There is something that God can do that we can’t, and that is to give each one of us perfect justice. Though our hands work hard to bring social justice globally, we know that there are still so many whom we are unable to reach, there are setbacks, there’s sometimes even the destruction of the good we have made. Yet it has been God through the cross who has accomplished bringing full justice and at the same time bringing full mercy.

1. Isaiah 30:18 (NASB) 2. Corinthians 5:21 (NASB) Zelina Gaytán is a 3rd year Spanish major here at Cal and I’m from San Diego (CA), Tijuana (BC, Mex.).

Spring 2015 | To An Unknown God 19

CE I V R E S IN

IP

SH N O I T ELA

R

W

Anna Costello, CONTRIBUTING WRITER ithin the community center that housed my grade school Catholic congregation, I transitioned from being rocked during the homily to looking at Bible picture books to finally having the attention span to listen. As a child, I heard explicit calls to live radically: renounce all of your possessions, give everything you own to the poor, do good secretly, live in harmony with all around you, forgive and love those who persecute you, defend the oppressed. As a child, it was pretty simple: Christ wanted me to live in service to others and, above all, in service to the poor, the needy, and everyone our society overlooks.

My journey towards listening to and following this call has led me to an intersection, which defines how I go about in this world: care for people and for the planet. Stewardship for all of creation goes hand in hand because humans influence the wellbeing of the natural world and are conversely affected by their environment. The more I learn about the intersection between environmental and human health, the more I realize that issues of pollution and toxicity do not affect everyone equally; in fact, low income communities of color are disproportionately harmed by environmental degradation. Therefore, caring for the marginalized of our society means ensuring that no community is overburdened by contamination or industrial waste. Through a lens of environmental health equity, I was introduced to the term “environmental justice,” a passion that connected me to the Public Service Center’s Alternative Breaks.

The “Alt Breaks” program brings students together to learn about social justice topics and serve across the nation during winter and spring breaks. Alt Breaks was the first non-religious space I entered where I could engage in things that were meaningful to me: identity, discovering purpose, building community, seeking what is just, doing tangible things to build the Kingdom here on earth—with or without that same rhetoric. This experience has blessed me with the opportunity to educate myself and grow with people of diverse backgrounds. It has challenged me to take alliance as a verb meaning to actively support marginalized communities by both listening to stories and serving as I am asked.

Through Alt Breaks, I have been given the time to explore what 20 To To An An Unknown Unknown God God || Spring Spring 2015 2015

living out the Catholic social teaching means outside of myself.

Throughout this journey, I have noticed that those around me don’t necessarily understand this intersection between people and planet, which is as clear to me as the calling to follow Christ.

Many have questioned one or more aspects of who I am, seeing it as incompatible with the rest: How could a practicing Catholic live in a co-op and study environmental biology? Why does an intelligent woman follow religious customs and believe in Church teachings? I have noticed that who I am seems strange to many, but no part of me can stand alone. My Catholicism, my love for people, and my responsibility to steward the earth are all inherent components of who I am. This intersectionality informs my thoughts, my actions, and my dreams. If I lacked the spiritual or social components of myself, I would not be fully complete; without my religion, I would not understand why I am; and without my pursuit for environmental justice, I would not understand what I am meant to do.

Despite fully embracing these identities, I do not claim to perfectly embody social justice or Catholicism. I only strive to become more fully myself by growing in my practice of each.

Living out my religious faith and working for social welfare are lifelong pursuits, which I will constantly fail at and improve upon.

And this process can be taxing. At times, service work gives me hope for humanity, but often it can leave me drained from witnessing inequality, hatred, and suffering. It can be easy to lose myself in despair, feeling that my contributions don’t amount to much. And that’s where both my secular and religious friends have gotten it right: humans can’t face the harsh realities of life alone; we’re meant to live in community. After all, justice is not something that will come about from my small efforts alone; the little things I do are only small contributions. But if I live in community and collaborate with others, my humble efforts will be multiplied by others. And the areas in which I lack competency will be filled by the diverse talents of those around me so that together we are all better versions of ourselves. When it comes down to it, I was never expected to do everything alone. I know that because I am a finite individual, and my small being is nothing in comparison with the infinite wonder and goodness of the Creator. So I am comforted in knowing that this process of becoming more fully myself through religious spirituality and service is one that I take in relationship with God and in community. I am always filled with hope because as I strive to serve and accompany others, I too am constantly being served and accompanied.

Anna Costello is a Cal student who loves growing in her faith as a member of the Catholic community at the Newman Center. As a third year in Molecular Environmental Biology, she hopes to contribute to bettering community environmental health in California.

T

miracles in modern society

Sarah Hong, CONTRIBUTING WRITER he Bible contains a story in which the prophet Elijah performs a miracle in front of the Israelites. As part of a challenge to determine the true God, Elijah pours water on an altar and prays that God will answer him.

Sure enough, God sends a fire that consumes the drenched altar. Upon seeing this miracle, the once disbelieving Israelites worship God1. This causes the modern reader to wonder why God does not perform similar miracles in the modern age to blatantly prove his existence to our increasingly disbelieving generation. To the agnostic, one powerful miracle would be the missing evidence that could lead them to trust that God exists.

But is the assumption that a miracle would be as effective in the modern age as it was in Elijah’s day a valid assumption? Would any such miracles hold meaning for our current generation?

It's important to understand what we mean when we say “miracle” and the definition of “miracle.” I'm working with is an add-on to Lewis’s definition in “Miracles: A Preliminary Study”2: “a rare and temporary interference of natural law meant to display some intent of God.” A miracle is, therefore, necessarily rare because it is to excite wonder in its witnesses, and necessarily temporary because it is to be separate from permanent scientific phenomena. For example, light slowing down time would be close to a miracle if it were a singular, temporary phenomenon. Due to its being a permanent observation, though, the phenomena has become the general theory of relativity. Thus, a miracle is also an interference of natural law because only God has the authoritative power to interfere with natural law without fully violating it, just as an ambulance has the authority to interfere with common traffic laws. A miracle must be rare, temporary, and an interference of natural law, thus ensuring that it will not be confused with other mundane phenomena.

The most important aspect of the definition of a miracle, though, is that it is meant to display some intention of God. Only if the intention behind the miracle is understood will it have lasting effect. The miracle that Elijah conjured was intended to show that the God of Israel was the true God, and this was understood by the Israelites who immediately began to worship Him. Without God’s intention, the miracle would not be a significant event and would fade into obscurity. For

Spring 2015 | To An Unknown God 21

example, suppose that I had a donkey that unexpectedly said “hello,” but never spoke English again after that incident. I would reason that I had momentarily hallucinated or that the donkey coincidentally produced a noise that sounded like the greeting.

Ultimately I would only be confused about the whole ordeal because of the action’s lack of intention. However, if the donkey started rebuking me about my sins, as Balaam’s donkey did in Numbers chapter 22, then I would understand that God might be at work in the background, and I might take the phenomenon more seriously.

In modern society (by which I mean those living in the digital age who are assimilated into the universality of the internet), we respond to any unfamiliar testimony with instinctive skepticism, and may refuse to recognize its validity until we see convincing proof. Familiar testimony, or testimony that does not challenge established facts within current knowledge, like, “Her birthday is on October 11th,” “I had toast for breakfast,” and “He is feeling triumphant” are readily accepted because it is within our framework of known knowledge. Unfamiliar testimony or testimony that challenges established facts within current knowledge, like, “I saw a unicorn,” “Scientists found mermaid skeletons,” or “I saw the miracle of the burning bush outside my house” is distrusted due to the fact that it challenges that framework. However, modern society has developed distrust toward most forms of human testimony, to the point that even news reports testifying to things within our knowledge framework are not to be trusted until multiple sources confirm the same story. I'd argue that this is due to the fact that one of our primary sources of knowledge, the Internet, is utterly indifferent to the truth of all information that is gathered there. Consequently, the realm of available knowledge on the Internet has become overrun with false information, from U.F.O sightings to miracle weight loss pills. Most people in the wired age tend to discover the Internet’s deceptiveness quickly through trial-and-error, and approach new information with distrust. We can call this instinctive skepticism a sort of modern evolutionary trait from being a technology-saturated generation, meant to safeguard our knowledge against any potentially false information.

The only information that easily passes our skeptical radar is academic information, particularly information obtained through the scientific method. This is due to an innate trust that all knowledge within the realm of academia has been vigorously examined and proved. Students are practiced at testing and

22 22 To To An An Unknown Unknown God God || Spring Spring 2015 2015

challenging claims found on-line, but readily accept academic information in the classroom without question. Any unfamiliar testimony without scientific backing demands reliable evidence before full acceptance, but academic information promptly backed by scientific proof is more readily accepted, no matter how much it challenges the contemporary framework of knowledge. If string theory was proven to be a new scientific dogma, I would be more willing to trust that string theory is the ultimate foundation of the universe rather than trusting that the miracle weight loss pill from the Internet can actually do its job. Although a weight loss pill sounds more plausible than the idea that the universe is made of a bunch of strings, scientific evidence is considered to be the ultimate authority in deciding what information we trust. Therefore, all new information needs to pass through scientific examination and verification before the majority of modern society can readily accept it.

Due to the instinctive skepticism of modern society, modern miracles lose all meaning and will only be treated as either a fabricated hoax or an undiscovered scientific dogma. Imagine that an article came up online claiming that a person witnessed a miracle of God writing his name in the sky, and even had pictures to support his claim. If that miracle was indeed a true miracle, it must have been with God’s intention to prove his existence to the entire world. However, this intention will never be understood by modern society; in fact, they will not even consider the possibility.

This is due to modern society’s instinctive skepticism and hostility toward anything that challenged currently held beliefs, such as “Only an airplane can write a message in the sky.” The mere possibility that God could have written his name in the sky and interfered with natural laws sets modern society in a panic, and they dismiss the entire incident as a hoax until further evidence that it was not a plane that wrote those words is presented.

If an individual directly sees the clouds reformulating to spell

“God” in the sky, he might initially be confused and frightened, but ultimately he is more likely to dismiss the incident as an extremely clever hoax than he is to believe that it is an actual miracle. This is due to the individual’s instinctive skepticism, but also due to the fear of going against the realm of knowledge generally accepted by modern society. Even if he does believe the miracle and tries to share his perception of God’s intention with others, he will be viewed as a fantastic prankster, or a histrionic liar no better than Sylvia Browne.

If the miracle cannot be considered to be a hoax, modern society will view it as a new and unexplained scientific dogma, which likewise makes the miracle meaningless. Suppose that the miracle of the clouds spelling “God” in the sky occurred again, but in a different location with multiple witnesses ensuring that it was not a hoax. Perhaps there might be a minority of people now willing to accept the possibility of a supernatural agent behind the phenomenon, but a majority of the people will be more willing the amend the phenomenon into a more acceptable form of information. The belief would be that the phenomenon could be explained through a new undiscovered realm of scientific knowledge, similarly to how the phenomena of the speed of light being independent of the reference frame were eventually explained through the theory of special relativity.

However, from the moment the phenomenon is viewed to be a part of science, the phenomenon is no longer defined as a miracle. A miracle by definition is an event that interferes with scientific laws, and if it succumbs to modern society’s demands to become an exact science, it would be directly contradicting itself. Scientists study scientific phenomena to answer how it occurs, not to answer what intentions caused the phenomena to occur. In trying to incorporate the miracle into some scientific law, modern society dismisses the notion that there is an intention behind the phenomenon.

A worry that arises from this argument is that skepticism was existent before modern society, but miracles were not considered to be meaningless. Therefore, it is still possible for modern society to find meaning in miracles. It may be true that skepticism has always been a part of the human condition, but this worry neglects the impact that the recent growth in knowledge accessibility had on the intensifying skepticism. People before the information

revolution had no existing way to have knowledge readily available to them at any time, and therefore had no choice but to be more willing to accept some knowledge without complete proof. Therefore, skepticism in the past was more lenient than the skepticism in the present. Almost the entire population in modern society has access to knowledge at any given time and place, and therefore is more inclined to be skeptical about some new information until there has been further investigation about its validity. Therefore, although people in the past were skeptical about knowledge, modern society’s skepticism was amplified in intensity due to the resent universality of knowledge.

Miracles are meaningless in modern society, due to its inability to relay God’s intentions to the proper audience and to be accepted as anything beyond either a fabricated hoax or an undiscovered scientific dogma. Due to the established circumstances, even if God once again sent a fire to burn a drenched offering altar, that miracle’s intentions would be unable to penetrate through skepticism. Perhaps this might be devastating news for both the theist and the agnostic, but I do not think that this is a negative conclusion. A momentous and life-changing decision such as believing that God exists does not come from such a quick and easy determinant like miracles, no matter how long we wait for our drenched altar to light on fire.

1. 1 Kings 18:20-29 2. Lewis, C. S. Miracles: A Preliminary Study. New York: Macmillan, 1947 pg. 5 - “I use the word Miracle to mean an interference with Nature by supernatural power.”

Sarah Hong is a third year philosophy major who spends way too much time thinking about philosophical questions and cats.

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Dear Emily Palmer, CONTRIBUTING WRITER Dear orphan, Do not despair. You are my beloved. The world may overlook you; you may feel utterly alone. But I am with you. I know the number of tears you have shed. You lack parents in this world, but I have adopted you as my child. I am watching over you. I smile as you grow more and more into the person I created you to be. I know it doesn’t always feel as though you are desired, but I yearn for you more than you could possibly know. I will not leave you as an orphan; I will come to you.1 I am stirring people to act for your cause.

Love, Abba Dear beggar, Do not despair. You do not have any tangible possessions, but I am yours. I know it’s terrifying to not know where your next meal will come from, but I am the ultimate sustainer. I have not forgotten about you, nor have I left you to fend for yourself. Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet [I] feed them. Are you not much more valuable than they? 2 I am stirring people to act for your cause.

Yours truly, Jehovah Jireh Querido inmigrante, No te desesperes. Do not feel as though you have to conform to be accepted in this new land. I created you uniquely. I put thought into your ethnic identity and you are beautiful.

I know you don’t feel as though you are welcome here, but you are here because I have called you to be here. For I know the plans I have for you…plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.3 Estoy moviendo personas a actuar por su causa.

Sinceramente, Dios

24 To An Unknown God | Spring 2015

Orphan Dear soldier, Do not despair. I am fighting for you. I did not create you to be a ruthless killer. It breaks my heart to see the traumas you are forced to go through. I know you are scared, but your sacrifices are not unnoted. As you enter the battlefield, remember to be strong and courageous.

Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for [I am] with you wherever you go.4 I am stirring people to act for your cause.

Be well, Elyon Dear Christian, Do not despair. There are so many injustices in this world, but I will soon right every wrong—even the wrongs you don’t see. In the meantime, I am calling you to partner with me. I will equip you with everything you need. Adopt the fatherless. Feed the hungry.

Welcome the wanderer. Fight for what is right for I have fought for you. Act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God.5 I am stirring you to action; go.

Act in haste, I Am

1. John 14:18 (ESV) 2. Matthew 6:26 (ESV) 3. Jeremiah 29:11 (ESV) 4. Joshua 1:9 (ESV) 5. Micah 6:8 (NIV) Emily Palmer is a junior studying applied mathematics who loves hedgehogs and eating dessert.

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It Is Well Jennifer Yim, CONTRIBUTING WRITER

A pearly-white picket fence borders a two-story house, offering the impression of a safe embrace. The fence stands waist high—not actually providing protection or keeping intruders out, but there’s no real threat in this neighborhood anyway. Or this city. Maybe even in this state. Really, it stands to keep the squabbling puppies from running wildly out into the vast unknown. And rightfully so! They must be raised to be docile, trained canines that know how to walk alongside their owner without a leash, first. A smooth, stone walkway stretches out from the porch steps, connecting perpendicularly to the edge of a sidewalk that barely kisses the edge of the very green, neatly trimmed lawn. On the front porch is a nice swinging bench with floral cushions that never lose their fluffiness. The sun is high, the clouds are speckled, and the grass sways to the rhythm of the breeze…

“Alright, let’s go around and do some superlatives now!”

“Sure, who should we start with?”

Fits of giggles erupted while people voted going through one category after another…

“Okay, most likely to live the American dream?”

“You!” someone calls out from across the circle, pointing straight at me.

I glanced around at everyone bundled up in layers of blankets and hoodies. They looked at each other, nodding in agreement, “Yeah!”

A group of eighteen-some-odd people ending our one-day retreat on the shore of an unknown beach. It was chilly even though we had a campfire burning, pieces of ash flickering up into the night.

“Yeah, definitely.”

“I totally see it!”

“The white picket-fence, the well behaved kids?”

“Don’t forget the hardworking husband!”

But all the voices slowly drowned out around me as I sat there paralyzed, frozen by three realizations: a) People saw my life as one that pursued this ‘dream’ that symbolized comfort, security, and personal well-being; b) This was the ultimate picture of what a ‘good life’ looked like in the eyes of the world; c) I did not want this to be the summation of the life I live…

---

26 To To An An Unknown Unknown God God || Spring Spring 2015 2015 26

Two years later, I still find myself unsettled at the remembrance of both this moment and this image. Often I wonder what people see when they look at me now—my ambitions, character, and interests. Am I living by giving myself over to death daily for Jesus’s sake, that His life might be revealed in my mortal body1 and life here on earth? Is my life lived as one bought by the blood of my loving Savior? Or does my life merely point to myself, molded by the values of this world?

The world’s wisdom tells me this white picket fence is as good as it’s gonna get. It is the most pristine portrayal of a ‘good’ life in the world’s eyes where things go smoothly, come easily, stay controlled, and nothing falls out of place. The hardships: minimal to none.

But what a fickle way to define my life!2 Has Christ not made all things new? Have not my old ways, old understandings, and old pursuits all passed away with Him? Have I not found all reason and in every circumstance, to say ‘it is well with me’? In Jesus there is a truer, deeper good. One that does not only mean living a life well-off but instead prevails when there is inevitable loss, pain, and suffering in this life; one that is not defined by earthly gains or losses, richness or poorness; a good that I can declare about my life even when the roof caves in, the walls come crashing down, and the fence burns to ashes.

Because of who He is and what He has done.

In Him is an eternal hope that cannot be shaken,3

a perfect love that cannot be taken,4 and

an inexpressible joy that’s been awakened.5

I long to lead a life that steadfastly trusts in Him,

living for more than what I can accomplish for myself,

believing in a purpose greater than obtaining comfort or security, and

pursuing a God that says that He is good,6

that He satisfies,7 and

that He loves me.8 With this Jesus, I face all storms, wildernesses, and deserts in this life. With this Jesus, I can say, “Yes,” in faith for the Lord to have His way and to have His glory through my life, in my life. Though I may not know what blessing or momentary affliction may follow that ‘yes,’ if it is the Lord and He is there with me, there is no place I’d rather be. He is all things good and where He is, all goodness dwells.

Would I not lead a life the world sees as goodness of its own kind.

Would I live and die offering a life that makes known the one living, truly good God.

1. 2 Corinthians 4:11, 2. 2 Corinthians 5:17, 3. Hebrews 6:18-20, 4. Romans 8:38-39, 5. 1 Peter 1:8, 6. Psalm 106:1, 119:68, 86:5, 25:7, 100:5, 34:8, 1 Chronicles 16:34, 7. Psalm 107:9, 8. John 3:16 Jennifer Yim is a graduating senior who is constantly learning and relearning what it means to be loved by the Father and to love Him in return.

Spring 2015 | To An Unknown God 27

THE

BURDENS WE

CHOOSE

T

Samuel Chang, CONTRIBUTING WRITER he fire starts to crackle, churning and churning as it exerts its stronghold inside the small pit. Just in time, too, as the sun is perched precariously over the last bit of sky. It’s going to be cold again, I can tell.

“Kanya, why don’t you come and sit over here? It’s too cold to be so far from the fire,” I call.

“I’m fine.”

“Kanya, please come sit here,” I throw in a little pleading, a little tenderness into my voice.

“I like this spot.”

I peer at her small frame. So bright and energetic most days, she has lately taken to long, reflective silences, barely showing any interest in food or conversation. Not that she is alone. The rest of the refugees in our makeshift camp are just as somber, going through the motions of each day with invisible weights draped across their backs. I swear some days I can hear chains scratching across the empty dirt. They have already given up. But I cannot. I do not think I would know how to give up on Kanya if I tried.

28 28 To To An An Unknown Unknown God God || Spring Spring 2015 2015

I plop myself down by her side, trying to conjure the right words from the swirling wind. The air is taut, thick with tension, but Kanya doesn’t seem to notice. She snuggles a little bit closer and leans her head into my shoulder. My heart leaps as I close my eyes – she is here, safe in my arms. For a moment everything is under control again: she is by my side, and nobody can take her away from me. I feel invincible.

“Preeda?”

“Mmm?” My eyes are still closed, the cold momentarily forgotten.

“Why do we have to keep running all the time?” Timid. Hesitant.

My eyes snap open. She was only seven, how much was she supposed to know? Was this really her burden to bear?

“I told you before,” I reply. “There are bad men out there. They destroyed our home, so now we have to go find our new home in America.”

This was true. The smooth-sounding government man whose voice came out of the radio every Saturday had called them “enemies of the state.” But not to worry, he had promised: Even as I speak, officials are rounding them up, and the iron grip of justice awaits all who had erred on the wrong side of the law. His voice, normally even and calm, had risen to a crescendo, peaking at “justice.”

My parents had smiled at us then, their faces warm with reassurance. See, they said. Nothing to worry about.

That night, our house burned to the ground. My parents had rushed straight into the crowd, trying to help the rest of the village evacuate before more rioters arrived. But first, Father had whispered urgent instructions in my ear. A town by the ocean.

An uncle he had never talked about in America. A letter that was already halfway there. As the smoke roared and bellowed between the dying homes, I grabbed Kanya’s hand and slipped into the darkness. Father had turned back into the smoke, and within seconds my entire world was shrouded by layers and layers.

“It’s not fair.” More agitated. Angry, even. I’ve only seen this side of her a few times before, usually when she felt wronged by someone.

I turn and gaze soundlessly, hating myself for being so useless with words. In the books we had read at school, the characters always knew what to say, how to act. In fact, their words were scripted pages and pages before you even got there. Why didn’t it work that way in life?

“It’s not fair,” she repeats. “We never did anything to hurt them. We didn’t say anything wrong, or do anything wrong. Why, Preeda?”

I open my mouth, but stop. Little lights are coming out of the trees just past the camp. First one, then another, and then some more. Next, the cries of men, angry men. I feel my blood freeze solid, and my hands begin to shake. They had found us, and they Spring 2015 | To An Unknown God 29

were here. Why had I not seen this coming? I had put Kanya’s life in danger with my carelessness.

I look down the hill again. There is someone else rapidly approaching. I recognize Suda, the village healer. When I was little, her two sons had often lifted me up on to their shoulders, racing through the village so I could be a butterfly, or a whale.

The day they left to join the fighting, some part of Suda’s spirit seemed to diminish, and her eyes had grown dim. She’s moving with a new energy now, though.

“Preeda,” she says. “I’m glad I found you before you left. I want you to have this.”

She holds out a basket. Inside, I see several loaves of bread, and an electric flashlight, with new batteries. I know what this means. It means saving precious hours by being able to travel at night. The bread is probably enough to make it to the little town with the boat.

“I can’t take this,” I say automatically. “It’s yours. You need it.”

“And I’m choosing to give it to you. Why won’t you accept what I freely relinquish?”

But I can’t. In my head, I watch as Mother orders me to my knees, ready to deliver a scorching tirade for even thinking about taking something that wasn’t rightfully mine.

Are we beggars? she asks. No - we are not parasites who survive by asking others to sacrifice when they already have too little. Do you understand?

Yes, mother. Of course I understand. I miss you already.

“It’s not fair,” I say. The words, which just a few minutes ago had flowed so naturally from my sister, feel empty and meaningless.

To my surprise, the woman begins to laugh.

“Fair? What’s fair is that I am free to give this to whom I will.

Are you so simple, Preeda, to believe that the world behaves by what is fair and right? The world stays sane because people everywhere choose to take unfairness on themselves so that others can thrive. Who is fairness that he thinks he can tell me what I should or should not do with my things? This is what I choose.”

“But there must be another way,” I insist. “Something that will not leave you without hope.”

“Of course there are other ways. But this is the best way, because it gives you the best chance to make it. You think that my hope and your hope must be separate, but this is not the case. I have decided to place my hope in you.”

She proffers the basket again. It swings gently, tantalizingly close…

A few hours later, I am guiding an exhausted Kanya through a narrow pathway, the flashlight beam streaming through the blackness. As my head droops, a cry pierces through the night. I point my flashlight up. A songbird is shrieking a self-composed melody at the top of its lungs. The noise is cacophonous, 30 30 To To An An Unknown Unknown God God || Spring Spring 2015 2015

earsplitting after the many hours of silence. I am slightly irritated by its arrogance.

“Why is it so brave?” my sister asks. “Why doesn’t it run away like us?”

I think I know why. I cannot help but feel a smile tugging at my lips.

“The bird has someone watching over him. He feels safe because he knows that there is someone out there who will care for him and protect him. That’s why he sings.”

“But what about us?” Kanya wants to know.

“Well, someone was watching over us tonight,” I say, holding up the basket. “And always, Kanya, I will watch over you, because you are worth much more than just a little bird. You are everything to me.”

Chicago, United States Dear Mr. Aromdee, I hope this letter finds you well. I am writing on behalf of my dear friend, your elder brother. As I am sure you are aware, the revolts in this country have continued to be severe. Your brother has recently confided in me that he does not expect to outlive the revolutions. I am therefore writing to secure the safety of his two daughters, Preeda (13) and Kanya (7).

I understand that you have not spoken with your brother in many years.

Nevertheless, I hope to convey to you that he still cares for you and continues to keep you in his prayers. We are pleading with you, Mr. Aromdee, for compassion. If the need arises, your brother will instruct his two daughters to take a ship bound for Baltimore, scheduled for arrival on March 25th. If you are willing, Mr. Aromdee, under US law you are able to take them in as their legal guardian and secure their place. As you know, without your support as a blood relative, the girls’ chances under current refugee laws are slim.

I hope you understand the urgency of our cause. I can only hope that this letter finds you in a better place now than when you left for America all those years ago.

Yours respectfully, Stefan Juntasa Viktor looked up from the letter and removed his glasses, sighing. He had planned to visit the hospital today, but now he wasn’t so sure. The thought of his son seeing him so defeated was draining. Instead, he allowed the painful memories– memories he had trained himself to block–to wash over him.

The curses he had rained down on his brother the night he left.

Grandfather’s accusations of betrayal, spit flying from his mouth.

He remembered the emotions, too–anger and rebellion that had coursed through his veins every hour of every day. That was almost fifteen years ago. Not a day went by where he didn’t wish for a way to make amends, to apologize for his childishness. But the boat ticket he had bartered for was a one-way ticket, and his childhood village did not have a postal address.

The daughters intrigued him. His brother had been engaged when he left, he knew. And now his brother was asking him to open his house to them, to raise them. A sudden dread came then, gripping his heart. He had not been able to afford all of his son’s medications the last two months without borrowing heavily from a friend. To take on two more mouths was an impossible order.

Revulsion filled his throat. His blood and kin needed him, and here he was evaluating monetary cost. Had he learned nothing from his past? His brother was probably dead, Viktor realized, startled. For the first time, he allowed a tear to leak onto his face.

If it was true, there was no making amends. He had failed, just as he had failed all those years ago. The thought was plain, simple in his mind. And yet he found himself shaking uncontrollably, his mind an overwhelming torrent. For a brief moment he thought the earth would explode. And then he knelt and said his first prayer in nearly fifteen years: Dear God, I do not know if you are out there, or whether or not you care for me. But I ask that you give my brother’s soul peace and comfort. Tell him that I miss him every day, and that I am so sorry for the hurt and pain that I caused him. I regret everything. God, I cannot even afford to take care of my son, let alone two more children. But if this is the justice I deserve, if this is how I am to make amends to my brother, then I choose to accept this task.

I know it is impossible for me to undo what I’ve done. Please help me find a way, to be kind the way my brother was kind. Amen.

Viktor got up and picked up his alarm clock, winding it to 5 a.m. The drive to Baltimore would be nearly 11 hours, and he wanted an early start.

“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”1 1. Revelation 21:4 (ESV) Sam Chang is a 3rd year MCB major who enjoys freewheel thinking but shows up late to everything.

Spring 2015 | To An Unknown God 31

artwork Karlee Lillywhite CONTRIBUTING ARTIST

32 To An Unknown God | Spring 2015

Image Credits: Table of Contents: Bon Jin Koo; 5: Anna Kang; 8: "scan0006" (flic.kr/p/PMxuJ)" by nolifeik (flickr.com/photos/nolife/) is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0 (https://creativecommons. org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/); 10-11: Bon Jin Koo; 12-13: "Storytelling" (flic.kr/p/mw3P4k)" by pennuja (flickr.com/photos/pennuja/) is licensed under CC 2.0 (https://creativecommons.org/ licenses/by/2.0/); 17: Bon Jin; 21-23: Winston Kim; 24-25: Skyler Roh; 26-27: Anna Kang; 28: Bon Jin Koo; 29-30: Chloe Ng; 31: Bon Jin Koo; 32-33: Karlee Lillywhite; 34-35: Anna Kang; Back Cover: Anna Kang (photo), Grant Lin (lettering)

Spring 2015 | To An Unknown God  33

CHRISTIAN THOUGHT DECAL

34 To An Unknown God | Spring 2015

TO AN UNKNOWN GOD is a journal of Christian thought at UC Berkeley. We exist for the purpose of encouraging Christians and people of other faiths to engage in dialogue about how the Christian faith may influence thinking about important cultural, philosophical, political and academic issues and we seek to foster a deeper understanding of the faith by providing a forum for discussing these issues. The TAUG DeCal course is designed to introduce students to the rich tradition of Christian thought through reading various texts written by major Christian thinkers of the past, from Augustine to Martin Luther to C.S. Lewis and discussing those texts with fellow Cal students.

For more information visit decal.org and search "To An Unknown God."

FALL 2015, TH 5-7PM 2 UN ITS ENGLISH DEPT.

Spring 2015 | To An Unknown God  35

Every semester, To An Unknown God relies heavily on private donations to fund its printing costs. Please prayerfully consider donating to make our next issue possible! Checks should be made out to ASUC/To An Unknown God and mailed to: ASUC/To An Unknown God University of California 112 Hearst Gym, MC 4520 Berkeley, CA 94720-4520 Any amount is highly appreciated. Thank you for your generosity!

36  To An Unknown God | Spring 2015