Stephan Pastis, the creator of the comic strip Pearls Before Swine (an Apologetic Professor favorite), wrote the following words on the dedication page of his most recent book:
“To myself, because I’ve never seen anyone vain enough to do that before.”
And it is in that spirit of complete megalomania that I write to you today. In particular, I’ve often thought about what particular name to give to myself. And no, I don’t mean
that I’m considering legally changing my actual name, cool as that would be (really, wouldn’t it be a better system for people to name themselves?) I’ve often wanted to change my name to something really hip like “Mr. Sunshine” or (as one Swedish couple once did to their child) a string of 50 random characters like “DKAOW^EFAXLKJG@ $KJALSKFJ#L!@LJ@%%#@JLFJSLSLDYLSJEQPB.” “Billy Ray” also has a nice ring to it.
But alas, the social customs of our day, combined with my lazy approach to avoiding anything approaching paperwork, prohibit me from actually changing my name. Whereas
considering what sort of Christian moniker I’d like requires no work whatsoever.
And unsurprisingly it is the second kind of thing I’m talking about here.
As my post last week illustrated, it’s a wacky world for Christian names these days. There is literally no end to the things respectable Christians could call themselves that have Christian in them. So when people ask, as they almost never do (how rude of them to take so little interest in how I’m named?), what sort of Christian I think I am – well, this
article is devoted to the answer I would most likely give. Just to show I’m serious about this navel-staring exercise, I’m going to devote next week’s post to it also.
My own personal criteria for naming myself involves two fundamental things.
The first is simply the aesthetic value of the word itself. I’m calling this the poetry of the
word. It’s analogous to one of the reasons I pull for many of my favorite football teams: Namely, that they have really, really cool football helmets. Thus I’ve often pulled for the Detroit Lions – even though I’ve never even been to Detroit and I’m from the South – and the only reason is because they have absolutely, undeniably, the coolest football helmets that have ever been made. Well, if I’m going to name myself something, I want it to sound as cool as the Detroit Lions football helmet looks. Names are meant to be inspiring.
Of course, names are also meant to be accurate. I don’t want the name that I choose for myself to make you think I’m a mass murderer who loves Michael Bolton and pulls for the Bobcats in the Griz/Cat game. (I mean, I could never get through the shame of you believing I loved Michael Bolton!)
So, starting with a grade for just plain old “Christian,” below I offer a grade for three possible names for myself, religiously speaking. We evaluate three more next week.
1. “Christian”
Overall Grade: B-
Poetry Grade: B. Using just simple old “Christian” has a certain homey beauty about it. And of course, it contains within its fair boundaries the name of the Savior of my soul. But it’s a little…plain…to get a super high score for its aesthetic value.
Often, the surgeon and viagra pfizer pharmacie the hospital staff are failing to spot signs of malnutrition which is a common cause orconsequence of illness, especially in the elderly. All these can be managed with changes in lifestyle, exercise, diet control, and https://pdxcommercial.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/03/Brochure-1.pdf super viagra generic medication or other types of treatments. The uplifting news is that this sexual dysfunction that this can be betrayed and life can again be viagra canada mastercard enjoyed. Fourth, serious complications Lots of serious complications also can be caused by many things, https://pdxcommercial.com/order-4561 viagra 25mg online it is generally brought about by underlying diseases such as high blood pressure and diabetes. Accuracy Grade: C. There’s a sense, of course, in which this is the most accurate term imaginable. I mean, this is what I am, right? I strive to be just an ordinary Christian, a simple follower of Jesus Christ. In a perfect world, no qualifier to this term would
be necessary.
Unfortunately, as the bracing brick-like ugliness of Michael Bolton makes clear, the world is not perfect. Language is only useful to the extent that it conveys what it intends to convey in the mind of the listener. But so many people have distorted the term Christian
as a term that I’m not sure it totally does the trick anymore. For example, there are people who call themselves Christians but who do not believe in miracles. Now you simply cannot be a Christian and disbelieve in miracles – the whole worldview is complete nonsense if God is incapable of violating the natural order of things, and the primary act in the Christian saga involves a miracle on that fateful third day. Yet, in spite of that, I think there are lots of folks (mostly silly academics, to be fair – the common plumber is rarely so intellectually silly as the common academic) over the years who have associated the word Christian with a viewpoint that denies miracles. As a result of these and other similar linguistic shenanigans, non-Christians often reasonably ask when I say I’m a Christian, “well, what sort of Christian are you?”
2. “Evangelical Christian”
Overall Grade: D
Poetry Grade: F. Evangelical is such an ugly word. It sounds like a bad combination of two words that are fine on their own: Eve and angelical. But putting them together is kind of like combining chocolate cake with onions: Cake is great, and onions are great, but an onion cake? It is a metaphorical train wreck. I’ve actually had a chocolate cake with onions in it. Ten years of therapy later, I am happy to report that I’m mostly recovered from the trauma of that fateful experience.
I quote here from one of the greatest Christian poets, Milton himself:
“There is no doubt that the word evangelical is the poetic equivalent of free verse: a disaster. And psychology research shows that people who like this term are fundamentally crazy. I’m saying that despite the fact that the field of psychology won’t actually exist for another 400 years; but don’t worry, because even though my poetry is overrated, I’m actually a genius!”
Accuracy Grade: C. I’m mixed about the accuracy of this term; it depends upon what you mean by accuracy. If you mean “what the average person thinks this term means correctly defines my own view” then I think this term is sort of accurate. People think of evangelical Christians as believing in the Bible and as believing in traditional Christianity. Well, I do strongly believe in both of those things. They think of evangelical Christians as believing in a personal relationship with Jesus Christ; well, I believe very much in that, too. In other words, they associate the term evangelical with what you might call theological conservatism. Inasmuch is that bizarre term has any meaning, I would probably describe myself as theologically conservative.
On the other hand, they also think of evangelical Christians as being politically conservative. I don’t think I fit that bill very well, though I’m certainly more politically conservative than the average professor. At a larger level, I just don’t think Christianity is primarily political, so whatever my political beliefs are, they’re not religious exactly. (I plan on writing an article or two later on the relationship between religion and politics, so I’ll leave that for another day).
But really, I just hate the term evangelical because as a linguistic unit it conveys the wrong meaning. To wit: When I hear that term, I think of evangelism. I think of people who believe in Christianity primarily to convert others – I think of people who think of Christianity like some kind of pyramid scheme, where the goal is to notch a few converts to gain more spiritual gold for yourself. I don’t think that’s actually the historical origin of the term evangelical, but that’s what it conveys to my mind here in the early part of the twenty-first century. And that is a horrible, horrible thing to convey. Does anyone really want to be associated with television evangelists?
3. “Orthodox Christian”
Overall Grade: A-
Poetry Grade: A. This term has it all. I think Orthodox is one of the most beautiful words in the English language. It’s both hip-sounding and ancient at the same time. It’s like St. Thomas Aquinas with an iPhone. And let’s face it: X is the coolest letter in the English language, and all the hip English words have it. Complexity, xylophone, Griz, moxie, paradox, excruciating, inexorable…this amazing set of super cool words has only one thing in common: The letter X. (Wait a minute, Griz doesn’t seem to have an X after all…must have Montana sports on the brain lately. Or that was a test to see if you are a truly discerning reader; I’ll let you decide). An easy “A” for aesthetics.
Accuracy Grade: B. I want to give this term an A for accuracy because I think it perfectly conveys what I am. The term orthodox means basically that you believe in the Christian creed. That you believe in the traditional Christian teachings of the ancient Christian church. That’s what I believe. I most emphatically do not believe in the hundreds and hundreds of strange ways that people have tried to twist, or change, or get around, or expand upon the ancient Christian teachings. I would sooner disbelieve Christianity than I would believe in some of the watered-down versions of it people have thrown around over the years. I believe in original Christianity itself over and against these heresies, and I think that’s what the term orthodox captures. But…unfortunately, some people associate this term with specific Christian denominations, such as Eastern Orthodox or Russian Orthodox. Well, I’ve got no problem with those denominations that I’m aware of, but I’m not a member of them per se. Okay, I do have one problem with those denominations: They made it more difficult for me to use my preferred term. The jerks!
I’m probably in no position to weigh in on this one, since (a) I’m not a Christian of any sort and (b) I’ve got my own nomenclature problem to deal with–”atheist” vs. “agnostic”; lately I’m going with “God-haunted atheist,” though a friend suggested I’m more of a “God-stalker” unable to accept that the object of my affections isn’t all that into me. Anyway, I always thought that “Orthodox Christian,” despite its legitimate historical pedigree, carried with it the perhaps unintended suggestion that other Christians were “unorthodox,” if not actually anti-orthodox, heretical, or apostates. I also think “Orthodox Christian” just begs the question–what is “orthodoxy” and who gets to define it? It seems to me that if you went by the simple, unadorned term “Chrsitian,” you’d be grateful for the inevitable query, “What sort of Christian”? Isn’t that a great opening, either for modest self-deprecation (“An average one, at best”) or for some actual education about what “Christian” means to you? Finally–how about “practicing Christian,” which you could then explain by saying something like, “I’m hoping to get better at it” or “God knows I need all the practice I can get”?
Thanks for the suggestions (and the laughs)! I appreciate your honesty and humor as always. I remember Bill Clinton saying he was something like an “honest but struggling Christian,” and I can relate to that term.
On a more intellectually serious note, I do think the term orthodoxy implies that non-orthodoxy exists; and I think that’s intentional and that’s one of the reasons I like the term. I’m “orthodox” in the very sense that I reject non-mainstream views of what Christianity is; I accept the plain traditional version. (Really, though, all qualifying terms are like that: “practicing” Christian implies there are non-practicing ones; “born-again” Christian implies there are non-born again ones; and so forth).
I think the question of who gets to decide about orthodoxy is a fair one, but it isn’t all that important to me personally; it really seems to me about semantics. The term “orthodox” across all domains just means the traditionally-accepted or older version. So “orthodox” Darwinism means the older version of it, as contrasted with different adaptations that have come since. Well, in this case, “orthodox” just means the most common, oldest, and traditional view of what Christianity is. There are of course different traditions and so forth, but almost all of those traditions accept the basics of the Nicene Creed. And that’s what I believe. Lots of strands of Christianity have come since that rejected portions of the Nicene Creed; I view those as “non-orthodox” and I reject them.
I could say more about it, but I’ve actually written an article titled “What is the Purpose of the Christian Creeds?” to be posted a couple of weeks from now…so I’ll save my other thoughts until then.
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