The problem of evil—that great suffering is permitted by God in this world—haunts many people. It seems that if God really loved us, then he would do something to assist us. So, if he does nothing, it appears that he doesn’t really love us, in which case he isn’t all that good. But if he isn’t good, then he isn’t God. As such, it seems that God cannot exist, because great suffering does occur in the world.

In a previous podcast, we examined Plato’s famous “Myth of the Ring of Gyges” story. In that story where, as usual, Socrates is Plato’s primary dialogical character, we faced the ultimate moral challenge: what would we do if we were put into a situation (the invisibility ring) in which all of the rewards for justice were replaced by all of its penalties in this life and in the next, in which the reputation for justice were replaced by its opposite in the view of both gods and men? Is justice—is a just soul—still worth it? And wouldn’t it be more profitable to choose injustice if we attached to it all of the rewards usually associated with justice, all of the praise of gods and men, in this life and in the next? And if so, then perhaps the real reason we choose justice is that it happens to work. In reality, however, we value power over goodness, might over right, for justice is merely a means to an end, but, because we happen to be too weak to secure our own futures through power, we pretend to love justice. 

This is one of those questions that terrifies a great many people around the world, since they have been told that at some point in the future Jesus will secretly arrive in the clouds, yank all of the believers into the air, and then zip back to heaven, “leaving behind” all the wicked unbelievers. Portrayed in the books and films of the “Left Behind” series, this “Rapture Event,” the sudden removal of hundreds of millions of people from the earth, has the sorts of shocking effects one would expect: planes dive into the earth, cars pile up on highways, and a general chaos ensues as people confront the disappearances. So, what happens if you miss the rapture?

Since posting the blog and podcast on the point of fasting, I’ve run across some very screwed up applications of fasting that is undermining some people. So, I’m going to address these misunderstandings in this follow-up blog on when not to fast. The fast recognizes that we are spiritual/physical hybrid creatures, so that what happens in the body impacts the mind, just as what happens in the mind impacts the body. Fasting is a deliberate tinkering with that relationship by depriving the body of the usual amount and typical kinds of protein and sugar rich foods. As a result, fasting destabilizes our normal mental equilibrium, compelling us to use greater mental and spiritual self-control to hold to our virtuous lives. Too little fasting won’t challenge us enough, while too much fasting can lead to catastrophic moral results. And that is why we must always remember that fasting is for us, not for God. God is not impressed if we fast excessively and so undermine our rational self-control that we destabilize our capacity for charity! We should instead fast thoughtfully and prudently by considering how it will impact our overall constitutions in such a way as to stretch us without breaking us. Except for the three theological virtues which are directed to God without limit, the virtue of moderation applies to everything including fasting.

Are you a good person? Or perhaps that is too strong. Would you like to think of yourself as a good person? Almost everyone answers this question with a resounding “Yes!” There is something about goodness that we human beings find attractive. We want good steaks, good sex, good kids, good government, and we want a good God. But why? What is it about goodness that is so wonderful?

Christians and Jews of the ancient world practiced periods of fasting pretty seriously. Jesus did too, including those forty days in the wilderness prior to his temptation. But many Christian communities around the world don’t fast at all. Some Protestants suspect the activity, thinking it confuses genuine spirituality with mere ritual. They believe that the essence of prayer is spiritual, so that, once one has understood and begun to practice prayer, fasting becomes an unnecessary, really, a spiritually immature relic of Jewish practice. This line is taken in other cases too, for they sometimes insist that it’s the faith, not the water of baptism which saves. Similarly, they will tell you that it’s what’s in the heart, not what’s in the grape juice and crackers, that makes their “Lord’s Supper” effectual. The notion that God places any premium on the physical, such that the physical might function as the conduit of divine grace, is viewed merely as all that sacramental nonsense from the Catholics.

“The ancient Epistle to the Hebrews contains a hitherto unnoticed enigma. It refers to a man without beginning or end – one who lives forever. So, who is he, and where is he?”

These words of enticement draw the reader into my novel on Melchizedek, entitled, The Search for Melchizedek. The text of Hebrews really does describe him as a man who never died, meaning that for all we know, he is still out there somewhere today. For a novelist, that’s a terrific plot opportunity that I couldn’t pass up. You are welcome to explore that story and its sequel, Osiris Rising: (available in print and Kindle editions on Amazon)

We tend to distinguish who we are from what we do. So, I am Jeff, and I am always Jeff. I might be skiing or not skiing. I might be fishing or not fishing. What I do can change, but what I am remains the same. In modern times our names don’t tend to tell us very much about who the person is that bears it, but this wasn’t always the case. Take the famous Viking, Ivar the Boneless. Ivar suffered from some kind of deboning ailment in his legs, identified at his birth and contributing to his name. Ivar the Boneless was always the Boneless, whether he was fishing or skiing. (And yes, I imagine that if he skied, he probably did so on a sled, being boneless!) He could stop fishing or start skiing, but either way he always remained boneless. Thus, Ivar’s name tells us something significant about who he was, not just what he did. His name offers us an essential quality of Ivar, one that never changed, one that always identified who he was.

The search for the Holy Grail, like the longing to find the Ark of the Covenant, figures prominently within the myths and legends associated with the Christian tradition. That Jesus took a cup at the inauguration of the Eucharist and used it for the first transubstantiation is indisputable. What happened to that cup thereafter is the mystery. The traditional story has Joseph of Arimathea collecting the cup and eventually migrating with it all the way north to Roman Britannia. The Grail accordingly plays an important role in the legends surrounding King Arthur.

Like anyone, you probably would like to know where the Grail is. I have no idea, but I am likewise curious about its whereabouts. It would function as an important touchstone to the reality and significance of the Incarnation, just as the other relics figuring in the passion do: the nails, the true cross fragments, and the crown of thorns. While I do not quite agree with Indiana Jones that “they belong in a museum,” I do think that they belong in a sacred museum or church. The reason I wouldn’t go further than this is because I find the rest of the mysticism surrounding the grail a serious confusion of the differences between magic, miracle, and sacrament.

Many people are overwhelmed by the sheer volume of religious options in the world today. Sometimes that plethora of choices is even offered as a challenge to God’s existence, because, it is said, a God who doesn’t make it easy can’t expect much of us. Though I don’t find an appeal to our desire to be lazy particularly compelling, and I do grant that there are an awful lot of religious options out there, I think nevertheless that by means of a few carefully thought through questions, we can narrow things down quite a bit.