Reconciliation is what Christianity is supposed to be about. Just over a year ago I posted about shredding the toxic lists we keep of the wrongs others have done.
Here’s another view of it. I just listened to a podcast by Claire Perini and Mark Buchanan at Regent College in Vancouver, BC. They unpack what reconciliation looks like at a personal level between individuals and within national movements. Mark describes reconciliation as “…a father running down the road with his arms wide open…” and shares some personal stories of the “open embrace.”
The audio is about 45 minutes long and definitely worth the time. What really caught my attention was Mark’s statement near the end:
Stuff seems to leak out in our behavior online that says things about us we did not intend. And Christians need to take a good hard look at their motivations if cutting ties is wrapped up in severing a real relationship. This latest manifestation of the political climate is not something we should be participating in.
There are valid reasons for severing social media connections, such as avoiding the spillover from someone else’s toxic behavior. But if politics are at the bottom of this, your primary loyalties may be at issue. Christian faith at its core is allegiance to risen Jesus. It seems to me that this extends to how we treat his people — including those whose politics we find detestable.
Jesus gave the world the right to judge the authenticity of our claim to faith by our behavior toward one another.
Which might include how we behave in our political activities on social media.
Here’s an eye-opening article from The Atlantic on the weaponization of social media:
Most of us did not associate Twitter with terrorism until the Islamic State stormed into Mosul. We have given similarly scant thought to what might happen if the wondrous tools of the 21st century are ever paired with the scale and intensity of the conflicts that defined the 20th. Source: How Twitter Is Changing Modern Warfare – The Atlantic
The article lays out how bad actors exploit social media for propaganda purposes at large scales, serving up deliberate falsehoods to manipulate divisive national conflicts.
The trolls we encounter may not all be maladjusted losers living in their parents’ basements.
We are often more concerned with the appearance of our personal behavior than the actual substance. So we hold grudges and carry on our personal warfare with each other out of sight. Or so we think. Not so fast, suggests this article from The Atlantic. It discusses the effect of parental conflict on children:
The article described how smoldering, unresolved conflicts between parents do damage to their children, and quoted psychology Professor E Mark Cummings as saying that “‘…people underestimate the sensitivity of kids to their environments…'”
It might even be a step back from underestimation to a lack of awareness, which may be a broader feature of our conflicts with each other. We seem to have little or no idea of the damage we do to those around us.
Technological advancement will bring artificial intelligence and cheap energy.
This will bring limitless wealth, and drive down the cost of producing pretty much everything and put pretty much everyone out of a job.
Therefore governments should provide stipends to everyone so they can do whatever they want.
All of which sounds wonderful. But there may be some fundamental dysfunction baked into this vision of technocratic utopia. This statement by Altman suggests rather a technocratic myopia:
“People pay a lot for a great education now, but you can become expert level on most things by looking at your phone.”
Exactly which fields of study could one reach expert level via a smart phone? Neuroscience? Biochemistry? Mathematics? Structural Engineering? Linguistics? Philosophy? Religion?
One of the bothersome aspects of some technocrats’ visions of the future is the apparent shallow appreciation for subjects beyond the range of their expertise. Perhaps this would not be a problem if learning was merely the collecting of oversimplified and trivial facts, unencumbered by connection to any real context. Or at least, whatever such info-bits content providers choose to serve up.
But as it happens, most of the really important stuff requires too much mental bandwidth and breadth of experience to fit on a three or four-inch screen.
I recently added this site to my list after seeing the video of the construction process. Do go there and have a look.
The author’s use of fired clay is impressive enough but the heated floor is what really caught my attention. It works the same way as the Roman hypocaust and Korean ondol. I was some way though viewing that portion of the build before it dawned on me what I was looking at.
The Roman designs heated large surface areas and large masses of masonry, leading to the need for a lot of labor to feed the furnace. Although this was probably not a big deal from the Roman point of view because of the prodigious use of slaves. But the author’s use of large stones in the floor covering a heating channel should provide a source of radiant warmth for the entire living space long after the fire went out. And would require less labor for the resultant heat.
The non-profit publisher Crossway is releasing what they are describing as a “permanent” English biblical translation. I am having some difficulty with what I think I hear them saying:
“Beginning in the summer of 2016, the text of the ESV Bible will remain unchanged—in the same way that the King James Version (KJV) has remained unchanged ever since the final KJV text was established almost 250 years ago (in 1769). Thus, all present and future editions of the ESV reprinted and published by Crossway will contain the Permanent Text of the ESV Bible—throughout the life of the copyright, in perpetuity. This means that current readers of the ESV Bible—as well as their children and grandchildren—will be able to read, study, and memorize the ESV unchanged for generations to come.”
Scot McKnight at Jesus Creed has some issues with the translation details. I am not qualified to speak to his points as I don’t read any ancient languages. My issue is at the conceptual level, with the notion of “permanent.” Perhaps Crossway means they intend no further revisions. But the way the King James Version is referenced suggests the English Standard Version will need no further revisions. I hope I am misunderstanding this.
Permanent translations of anything are in principle impossible. It really doesn’t matter whether we are talking about Paul’s letters to the Corinthians or Caesar’s Commentaries on the Gallic War. Language itself is not permanent.
Linguists use a concept known as “drift” to describe the impermanence. Words come in and out of usage. Sounds and pronunciations change. Meanings shift. Syntax changes. I am told that use of writing slows this process down but does not eliminate it. Which means writing that is “…unchanged for generations to come…” will become unintelligible to those generations, and rather quickly. Writing from the 19th century is already hard going for most modern readers. Think about how many people you know that have actually read works by Herman Melville or Alexandre Dumas.
If it were not for linguistic drift, English readers could still use the King James or Geneva bibles. The texts could be cleaned up with current manuscript discoveries and they would good to go. But since Crossway is presenting us with the permanent ESV those translations apparently were not sufficiently permanent.
The goal of translating any ancient text ought to be to make the original sense of that text available to a modern reader. It really doesn’t matter whether that ancient text was written by Aristophanes or the Apostle Paul.
As it happens, the Koine Greek of New Testament is not the Classical Greek of Aristophanes, Homer, and Plato. It eventually developed into the court and liturgical language in the Byzantine empire but its origin was the everyday marketplace Greek of the Hellenistic world. A good bit of the New Testament was likely oral composition in this very ordinary language, dictated to an actual writer. It was then likely read out loud, to be heard and understood by groups of very ordinary people.
The problem for us modern ordinary people is that we lack the linguistic and cultural context of the ancient audiences. Translation and the teaching and preaching that accompany it ought to be helping us engage that context, and hear what those ordinary people heard. Without that help we are apt to read our own linguistic and cultural contexts back into the text. And hear something quite different from what the author intended to communicate.
This is why linguistic drift is relevant. Language shifts in meaning and our understanding of it is tethered to an advancing present. And the shift will inevitably decouple our present understanding from the fixed written meaning anchored in an increasingly distant past. Which means the success of any translation in accurately supporting a reader’s understanding of an ancient context is only temporary at best.
And an update.
It doesn’t appear to have taken Crossway very long to reverse course and and apparently drop the idea of “permanent.” The text quoted above has been dropped and the following is from a statement by the publisher:
“Our goal at Crossway remains as strong as ever to serve future generations with a stable ESV text. But the means to that goal, we now see, is not to establish a permanent text but rather to allow for ongoing periodic updating of the text to reflect the realities of biblical scholarship such as textual discoveries or changes in English over time.”
I am surprised it took a bit of controversy (see article) to figure out that inevitable changes in the language might be one factor necessitating updates to the translation.
But I’m neither a translator or a linguist so what do I know?
 There is also a matter of shrinking attention spans that impacts on this, as well (see Eighteen Minutes). But the linguistic drift likely makes the attention issue harder to overcome.
 There are several probable reference to an author’s use of a writer in the New Testament (known in the ancient world as an amanuensis): Romans 16:22, 1 Corinthians 16:21, Colossians 4:18, 2 Thessalonians 3:16, 1 Peter 5:12, and Galatians 6:11.
The practice is likely to have been far more wide-spread than is first apparent, even among the literate, which St. Paul clearly was. We are the children of the printing press and formatted text — our modern text-saturated culture really has no sense of the cognitive demands of writing and reading in the ancient world. For a related discussion see this earlier post.
I’ve watched a bit of TED and there’s been quite a lot of good stuff on it. As I’ve noted previously, the format of TED successfully makes use of the shrunken attention spans of modern culture. But the packaging that makes TED work also suggests its effectiveness has very little to do with the actual content.
With that in mind, here’s a bit of Canadian satire from Pat Kelly of This is That. It’s about how to inspire people and say nothing at all:
There is a very good chance that you could take any given TED talk, flip the content so it says the opposite of the original, and the audience engagement would be just as high.
Skeptics ridicule the truth of the Christian message because of the discontinuity they see between Christian belief and behavior. They may have a point. Modern Christianity seems grounded in cognitive experience, more or less anchored by formal theologies expressing ethics governing what we think and how we behave. The problem is that what we think often gets compartmentalized from how we behave.
We claim a transformative power but we seem to end up with a faith that seems to be mostly a matter of rules and propositional truth. It might help to step back a bit from our arguments with skeptics and think about what faith actually is. A book review by Kate Cooper recently caught my attention, in which she profiled Roman Faith and Christian Faith, by Teresa Morgan.
The review describes our primarily cognitive and ethical treatment of faith as anachronistic. In contrast, “…ancient moral writers tended to think of faith in the relational sense of trust, allegiance, and loyalty.” Cooper quotes from Morgan’s book, anchoring faith in an ancient context of “‘an exercise of trust which involves heart, mind, and action’”.
I am looking forward reading the book to engage the historical context the book promises for the New Testament. It seems to square with my recent reading of Roman history and Roman authors. But what Cooper calls modern faith might also have some quite ancient roots, courtesy of the Hellenic culture diffused across the Mediteranean and eastward following Alexander’s conquests.
Hellenism was under-girded by a world of ideas incubated in the life of the polis, or the Greek city-state. The clearest biblical connection with this was Paul’s encounter with Athenian aristocracy at Mars Hill, when they brought Paul from the marketplace where he was preaching. They wanted to hear his unfamiliar ideas and proclamations of a foreign god, and to consider them within the business of the polis.
But the problem with this Greek world of ideas was its functional isolation. The city-states which gestated Hellenism were stratified into fairly rigid divisions between the activities of citizens (men), women, immigrants and their descendants, freedmen, and slaves. In the classical period citizens were the only ones who could own houses or land, or participate in public life and in the governance of the city. What this participation actually looked like might vary with the city but most of the actual work to support it was performed by someone other than citizens.
The result was that the Greek world of ideas was structurally disconnected from the practical and everyday. The intellectual heritage of the Western World owes a great deal to the ancient Greeks. But we may also owe them a tendency toward cooking down truth as a matter of bare cognition, separated from the activities of everyday life.
This does not mean faith operates in some sort of intellectual vacuum. Something must be true, and over the centuries Christians have done a fair bit of philosophy to engage this. But we used to also recognize that the truth statements within Christian creeds were never wholly reducible to propositions.
Unfortunately, some of our fine-grained modern theologies seem to do just that, resulting in a theoretical faith where the ethical content never reaches very far. It is a faith that has become very much like the philosophy of the ancient Greeks: positions to think about but that are mostly sectioned off from the ordinary day-to-day. And on those occasions we actually do drag them out of their boxes they are so wholly odds with that day-to-day as to discredit any message about Jesus.
It is a modern variant of something James was addressing in his letter to Jewish Christians dispersed throughout the ancient world. He nails this in his discussion of faith and works (James 2:14-19).
What I have been told by someone who actually reads Greek is that the words translated as “faith” and “believe” in English are really noun and verb forms of the same expansive word, encompassing a both a belief in the truth of something, as well as a far broader sense of trust and dependence concerning the fidelity of someone. The way the Greek word is heard depends on the context. James 2:19 is commonly translated in English as “believe,” and the context suggests a paraphrase:
You accept the truth that God is one. You do well. The demons also accept this and shudder.
A faith restricted to the cognitive and ethical can easily become a faith of bare facts — the faith of the demons.
In the preceding text, 2:14-18, the Greek word is commonly translated as “faith.” The context suggests something very different from 2:19.
And this difference would have been understood quite clearly by any Roman hearing the reading of James’ letter. The Romans who spread with their empire had some critical cultural differences from the Greeks of the city-states. Immigrants to Rome often became citizens, and sometimes this included freed slaves and their descendants. As Mary Beard has unpacked in SPQR, this making of immigrants and thousands of slaves into citizens is a major part of what enabled Rome to dominate the ancient world. And in their founding myths “…however far back you go, the inhabitants of Rome were always already from somewhere else.”
As a matter of clarification I don’t want to convey any impression that this meant empire and the associated making of slaves was a good thing. It was not. A slave in a Roman mine was unlikely to live very long. And Romans were probably as exploitative, xenophobic and ethnocentric as anyone else.
But the point is that the Roman social stratification was somewhat less rigid than in a Greek city-state. It was more interconnected, with citizens bound together in patron-client relationships of mutual obligation. Roman citizenship did not inherently insulate everyday citizens from activities with outsiders, or from otherwise doing the everyday business of Rome. Ordinary Romans proudly put their ordinary occupations on their tombstones. And landless Roman wage laborers might find themselves working on the same project alongside of Roman slaves.
For the Romans hearing a reading of James’ letter, truth did not stand in a vacuum devoid of the business of everyday life. The context of James 2:14-18 would have been understood in the sense of fides, what Cooper’s review identifies as encompassing “trust, allegiance, and loyalty.” Romans were accustomed to the sense of fides as found inscribed on coins and worshiped as a minor deity. It conveyed as sense of reliability, such as in the trust between two parties.
It is what a Roman would have heard when the Greek pistis was translated in Latin. In the ancient world these words appear to have been mutually intelligible. What we commonly translate as “faith” might possibly be heard like this by an ancient Roman:
Show me your trust, allegiance and loyalty, without works, and I will show you my trust, allegiance, and loyalty, by my works.
Our most common response to skeptics is to reach for some form of apologetic. Perhaps the proper response would be to recover a more ancient sense of faith.
“Dadada.” According to the article below this was the password for Mark Zuckerberg’s hacked LinkedIn account. I found this astounding. And I am just a regular guy who works in an office full-time, not some super-geek.
But Zuckerberg is ridiculously wealthy. He can afford to pay people to clean up the mess.
For the rest of us poor schmucks the article has some suggestions which are worth perusing. I got my AOL account in the late 80s and have used hundreds of various online accounts since then.. I probably have at least 50 active user passwords. It would be nice to have a reasonable way to manage that. Unfortunately the suggestions are not packaged for users in the real world. And the article fails to engage real-world questions that need to be asked about any website you use before deciding which to use:
Are you famous or do you otherwise have some sort of highly visible public profile?
Is the information you need to protect important?
Would theft of the information affect anyone besides you?
Is the data valuable?
If the answer to all these questions is “no” then pick any junk password you like. If you answered with a strong “yes” to any, then find someone with actual expertise and don’t fool around with trying to do this on your own, particularly if you need super-secure options like hardware tokens. But most people will likely answer “no” to the first and a mild “yes” to one or more of the rest. So here is my stab at a rework of the suggestions, in order of priority:
Turn on basic two-factor authentication (2FA) for every site that provides it. Two-factor (or multi-factor) means something besides your user name and password is required to sign in. The easiest version to use sends a text to your mobile phone with an access code when the site fails to recognize you. A slightly more complicated but more reliable variant installs an app on a smart phone (which most people have these days). Basic 2FA means most thieves will need your crappy password and physical possession of your phone.
Lock all your computers, tablets, and smartphones. A basic four-digit pin or pass-code is probably fine, provided that the device does not connect to a corporate network, and has no remote access capability (or remote access is turned off). This is basic stuff. You lock your residence and car, don’t you?
This should keep out casual thieves and provides reasonable security for most of us. But if a thief gets both your passwords and access to your computer and mobile phone you have bigger problems. You might now be some hacker’s personal project. Or you might be bound, gagged, and in the trunk of a car bouncing along a dirt road. As one writer has pointed out, your potential threats boil down to “Mossad or not-Mossad.” If it’s the first one you are pretty much screwed.
For sites that don’t provide two-factor authentication, do the following:
Create unique and reasonably complex passwords. Passwords should contain at minimum mixes of upper case letters, lower case letters, and numbers. Special characters should be added if the site allows. But as long as you do not spell out actual dictionary words, your passwords need NOT be super long or super complex. Eight characters is good enough for most purposes. Whether to use more depends on how much damage unauthorized access will do. Passwords for your bank need to be longer than passwords for your streaming media.
Long passphrases can be easier for most people to remember than completely random sequences. Just don’t use components that you have posted on social media. Use something obscure, like the combination of a partial childhood address and the name of a childhood pet. Or the long name of a band you would never admit listening to. Then mangle it with numbers and mix the upper and lower cases.
If you have too many passwords to remember, then create a secured list to build a barrier between where you record them and where you use them. A plain, old paper notebook is just fine, provided you keep it somewhere reasonably safe. An encrypted Microsoft Office or Evernote document, or something equivalent will also work. Or if you are at least slighly geeky you can use a password manager app. The point is to find something that works for you and create the barrier. So when your device gets stolen and/or hacked the thief doesn’t get your passwords.
The article had some additional suggestions, which are distilled below to something normal people might actually use:
Don’t let websites retain information that connects to your financial accounts. This means debit cards, account numbers, or anything else that points directly to your bank. The only exception I can see to this is the website of another bank. Charges on a stolen credit card can be high-order nuisances. But stolen bank balances are something else entirely.
If you let your web browser store your login information, then use a browser that encrypts the data and requires a password to access it. And never allow storage on a computer you don’t own and completely control.
Oh, and if your passwords are stored on your computer or smart phone please remember these gadgets are not immortal. Back up the list to a flash drive or printout and hide that somewhere you can find it. And be sure to include those stupid security questions and answers. You might need them a year from now.
 If you want to really lock your stuff up and need a suggestion for a password app I use KeePass. It’s highly configurable and open-source (and free). I’ve also heard good things about LastPass but I’ve never used it.