My Ten Most Influential Books - as of 2014 at least...

Recently, a few friends and colleagues tried to recruit me to do a “10 most influential books you have read” challenge on Facebook. The problem is, I couldn’t bring myself to just post a list. I wanted to explain each selection a bit. It was hard to limit myself to a small number of books, and I undoubtedly will think of egregious omissions later. I have added a few at the bottom as honorable mentions.

Keep in mind that this is a “most influential” list. A list of favorites would look much different, as would a list of books that best illustrate human psychology - both of which would be fun to compile.

1. The Bible

Sure, it’s sometimes a cliche, but I was raised on this book, and it is, after all, the book of my faith. To us, it is the remarkable record of God’s dealings with mankind. Earthy and human, it is filled with the sordid, the inspiring, the best of good and the worst of evil. Often beautiful in language, touching on every human emotion, it is by no means a safe book. It has been the inspiration for the most noble of men and women, but also for some the most base and oppressive.

More than anything, it contains the history of the one who turned the world upside down. Who dared to assert the existence of an upside down kingdom, one where the greatest is a servant, where enemies were to be loved rather than hated, where children were closer to God than wise men, and the greatest commandment was love.

2. Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain

My mother, who stretched my mind during my childhood by introducing me (and my siblings) to all kinds of classic books during our childhood. We read this one together. I am including it because of chapter 31. 

Huck considers turning in his friend (and runaway slave) Jim, feeling that his religion compels him to do so. (Indeed, many preachers of the era spent sermons on this topic.) Huck eventually, however, cannot bring himself to do it, even though he believes he will be damned if he doesn’t do the “right” thing.

"All right, then, I'll go to hell"- and tore it up.

This quote has been a bit of a guiding light to me in my own life. I do not believe God calls me to ignore either my brain or my conscience. Like Huck, I would indeed choose hell over doing evil.

3. Family Happiness and The Kreutzer Sonata by Leo Tolstoy

I know, I am totally cheating here and counting two novellas as one book. However, I read them back to back, and I would say they influenced my views of marriage and sexuality in a huge way. (I read them during high school.)

Family Happiness is believed to be Tolstoy’s “fantasy” of what would have happened had he married a younger girl he was infatuated with at one point. In his imagined version of the story, told from her point of view, the passionate romance comes off the rails as they discover their inherent incompatibility. She likes the city, the parties, and the excitement; while he prefers a sedate country life. Is this difference due to age? Or is it personality? In the end, the couple settles down to a life (largely on his terms), and she resigns herself to a form of “happiness” akin to deep unhappiness. The book ends with what I believe to be one of the most devastating closing lines in literature:

That day ended the romance of our marriage; the old feeling became a precious irrecoverable remembrance; but a new feeling of love for my children and the father of my children laid the foundation of a new life and a quite different happiness; and that life and happiness have lasted to the present time.

That image has haunted me, and made me determined that I would never inflict that sort of “happiness” on a woman.

The Kreutzer Sonata should be required reading, in my opinion. Tolstoy tells a tale of a murder of a wife by her jealous husband after he catches her (possibly) having an affair. But the tale itself is mostly a vehicle for Tolstoy to argue his view of sexual intimacy as an evil to be avoided. In the narrator’s view, the murder was accomplished, not when he killed his wife, but when he slept with her, which was in itself animalistic violence. Tolstoy seemed incapable of an understanding of sexuality that led to mutual bonding and closeness, rather than selfish use of the other.

Let us stop believing that carnal love is high and noble and understand that any end worth our pursuit -- in service of humanity, our homeland, science, art, let alone God -- any end, so long as we may count it worth our pursuit, is not attained by joining ourselves to the objects of our carnal love in marriage or outside it; that, in fact, infatuation and conjunction with the object of our carnal love (whatever the authors of romances and love poems claim to the contrary) will never help our worthwhile pursuits but only hinder them.

When I read this book, I was not expecting this at all, being familiar with Tolstoy primarily from his short stories of morality, ethics, and mysticism. It was my first real experience with a highly sex-negative religious viewpoint - although I have since encountered it in various forms since, particularly among some followers of Christian Patriarchy. From Doug Wilson’s view that sex cannot be an “egalitarian pleasure fest,” but needs to be about dominance and submission; to an acquaintance of my wife’s family who worried that he was “lusting” after his wife; to a friend who vowed never to inflict sex on his wife, not realizing she might enjoy it. Tolstoy’s twisted vision is alive and well.

Both of these books greatly influenced how I approached dating and marriage. I was determined to avoid these scenarios, going so far as to have some pretty involved discussions about sex with my wife before I ever asked her out. I also made it my goal to make marriage a source of true happiness for my wife, not a tolerable state of “happiness.”

4. Watership Down by Richard Adams

I was given this book by an aunt, who really loved it herself. I must have been in late elementary school, or maybe Jr. High. I wore out my original copy through the years. Definitely one of the books I read the most times as a minor.

The book is both an adventure story (with some parallels to the great Roman and Greek epics) and a parable of totalitarianism. It put a human rabbit face on command and control societies in a way perfectly understandable to a young person. Although Watership Down suffers from the same lack of strong female characters as Tolkien’s works, it nevertheless is high adventure, amusing mythology, and provocative commentary on human society.

5. The Ball and the Cross by G. K. Chesterton

Although I was introduced to Chesterton by his Father Brown stories, this was the first longer work of his that I read. I could have chosen Orthodoxy or Heretics, and I was sorely tempted to put The Flying Inn here, but as much as I love those books, The Ball and the Cross gets the prize as most influential. It is the one that led me to acquire and read the others, and the one I find myself referring to most often.

The book starts with a seemingly mundane incident. An atheist posts a provocative slur against Christ, and the devout protagonist objects. Soon, however, the two realize that they have more in common than not, because even though they violently disagree, at least they both care, unlike the vast mass of humanity which never even thinks of the ultimate questions.

6. All About Electricity by Ira M. Freeman

Yeah, this is a weird one to put on the list. However, it is the one book I read more than any other during my elementary school days. It is a kids’ introduction to the science of electricity written in the 1950s. So, it ends with an optimistic statement that those newfangled transistor things might just revolutionize the world. Ya think?

All About Electricity was my gateway drug to a lifetime love of science. From there, I went on to harder drugs, like my Growing Up With Science encyclopedias (still a beloved part of my library), electronic kits and a soldering iron, and a steady stream of books from the library on scientific topics.

The nature of this book also gave me a fascination with those mysterious devices, known as valves or tubes, depending on what side of the pond one comes from. Although horribly out of style in the 1980s, when I was a kid, they have made a comeback in recent years. As a music snob, I firmly believe that nothing sounds like a real tube guitar amp driven hard. Eventually, I was able to purchase my own little amp, the underrated Peavey Prowler, and I can set the filaments aglow to my heart’s content.

7. No Name by Wilkie Collins

There were quite a number of options for influential novels that I read in high school. I selected this one, because it was the first I read with an unconventional female protagonist who defied the conventions of Victorian society.

What the audacious Magdalen Vanstone does in pursuit of justice for herself and her sister seems shocking, even in the 21st Century, but it must have been even more so at the time it was written.

However, she goes no further than any number of male heroes, and that is why it is disconcerting. Her active role contrasts with the passive stereotype of women and the rules that society places on them. It was a great introduction to the idea that there should be more for women than a command to marry a reasonably wealthy husband.

8. Why Societies Need Dissent by Cass Sunstein

As good as Nudge was, I think this one is better and more influential on my thinking.

The discovery that those who only associate with “likeminded” persons become more extreme than any one of the group was before they got together was mind-blowing. It explained so much of my observation of polarized groups - and also a lot about our increasingly isolated and polarized society.

9. The Opium of the Intellectuals by Raymond Aron

Although I was already familiar with the concept, Aron’s book on the essentially religious nature of totalitarianism was an amazing discovery. Aron focuses primarily on Communism (particularly in its Stalinist form), and points out that it lacks only the traditional supreme being to be recognized as a religion - and a cult at that. The priesthood, the mythology of origins, the moral code, the demand of loyalty, and even the belief in a form of the apocalypse (the “end of history”) parallel the traditional theistic traditions. Did I mention that Aron was non-religious? Aron’s argument against the likes of Sartre, who excused Stalin’s purges as necessary to create a better world remains valid today. Totalitarian systems, whether overtly religious or the opposite, have more in common than one might think at first glance.

10. Animal Farm by George Orwell

Another book my mother introduced me to as a kid. Although it is commonly cited as an argument against Communism, it also works well as an indictment of a more endemic problem: those who come to power in any system tend to exploit it for their own gain, oppress those below them, and justify it all as “equality.”

Or, as the Who put it, “Meet the new boss, same as the old boss…”

11. The Rest Is Noise by Alex Ross

“This list goes to ELEVEN!”

Even though I have been a classical musician for over 30 years, I never really warmed to 20th Century classical. Other than a few mainstream composers like Copland and Prokofiev. This book really, really helped me understand the different directions that modern music went, and opened my eyes to a world of music that suddenly made more sense.

I reviewed the other book by Ross, Listen to This, which is also excellent - but not as influential.

Honorable mentions to:

You knew I couldn’t stop with 11…

He Knew He Was Right by Anthony Trollope, The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Octopus by Frank Norris, The Great Divorce and The Chronicles of Narnia by C. S. Lewis, To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee, any number of Dr. Seuss books, Measure for Measure by William Shakespeare, Are Women Human? by Dorothy Sayers, A Day In the Life of Ivan Denisovich by Alexander Solzhenitsyn, Blink by Malcolm Gladwell, "The Grand Inquisitor" from Dostoyevsky's Brothers Karamazov.

I’m a little disappointed at how few female authors made the list, because I really do love many books written by women. A list of “favorite books” would contain more - as would a list of favorite poets.

You knew it was coming:

The Moons of Jupiter by Alice Munro

Source of book: Borrowed from the library

Last year, I read and reviewed Yiyun Li’s short story collection, Gold Boy, Emerald Girl. A regular commenter suggested that I also read some Alice Munro as well, given some of the similarities. I figured Munro was a natural fit for me. After all, I love short stories. I enjoy female writers. I don’t find regional fiction or small towns to be boring - although I have nothing against city stories. (I own and have read the complete O. Henry.) Even the name was promising. I am a big fan of Hector Hugh Munro (no relative to Alice), better known to the world as Saki. 

I cannot recall exactly how I settled on The Moons of Jupiter, but it may have been because it was checked in at the library when I put it on the list last year. Who knows? It’s not her best known collection, and I have no idea how representative it is.

That said, it was a good read, full of interesting characters and psychological insight. Like many Munro stories, these are primarily set in small Canadian towns, and involve ordinary people. There isn’t much of a plot to most of the stories, in the traditional sense. In some, a moment is presented, and nothing more. The “action” isn’t in the events, but in the inner life of one or more characters. As often as not, there is no resolution, and the story ends before one can determine what happened. All that is certain is that a character has changed in some way. This technique seems common enough now, but it was unusual when Munro pioneered it at the beginning of her career.

A significant reason for Munro’s long success as a writer surely must be her characters. Despite simple language and spare descriptions, they are easily pictured in the mind - and resemble people I know. The large, intimidating maiden aunts in the first story, “Chaddeleys and Flemings,” for example.“Old Maids was too thin a term, it would not cover them,” as the author puts it. Several faces - and figures - spring to mind.

Munro focuses on middle aged women in this book, and - not coincidentally - on loss, regret, and uncomfortable transitions. By the time she wrote this book, she had already divorced and remarried, giving her plenty of material. The questions are universal: what does one do after one’s world has changed? When the kids leave the house, when a relationship crumbles, when one becomes old and disabled? How does one rebuild, when one’s very sense of self has been revealed as a facade?

I have been ruminating on a few of the stories in particular. “Accident” is the rare one (in this collection) that covers a longer period of time, and has a resolution of sorts. The protagonist becomes involved with a married co-worker, whose marriage is crumbling. The stasis of the triangle is disturbed when the man’s son is killed in an accident, and his wife’s relatives descend en masse, leading him to realize that he cannot live like that anymore. I do find this kind of story interesting, because Munro understands that the vast majority of failed marriages are not cut and dried, victim and wrongdoer. As the saying goes, “It’s Complicated.” Fourteen years of work in family law has proven this true. The moral ambiguity in this story is heightened by the awful tragedy of the inciting force. In a Victorian story, either the death of a child would save the marriage and make everything end happily (except for the wanton woman, who would die in misery - can’t leave her unpunished), or the sinners would at least pay for their sins. Yet, there is no note of triumph either. Indeed, it isn’t even clear if the relationship is a good one, but what happens happens. “Two roads diverged in a yellow wood…”

Another story that hit close to home was “Mrs. Cross and Mrs. Kidd,” a tale of two women in a nursing home, thrown together again after going to school together, although they traveled in different social and class circles back then.

A number of the stories are about a visit - a really awkward visit. There are several in “Chaddeleys and Flemings,” but two other stories make the visit the central incident. In “Visitors,” it is the visit from a brother not seen for the past 40 years that makes up the story. The brother, his puritanical wife and her equally puritanical sister visit their rather free-and-easy relatives. The contrast between the approaches to life, and even their size and shape, makes for an interesting study in discomfort. I have certainly experienced a few awkward encounters of this nature. Even the food becomes a source of contrast, with the sisters ordering small vanilla ice creams, while the less inhibited sister-in-law gets a double rum raisin and praline cream.

In the second story, “Labor Day Dinner,” an entire family of less-than-healthy characters visit neighbors barely more functional, and even good intentions cannot make things quite right.

I’ll mention a few good lines from the book.

One is an extended bit on the views of homosexuality in this particular setting. (From “The Turkey Season,” one of the few in this book about a young woman.)

There wasn’t any idea then - at least in Logan, Ontario, in the late forties - about homosexuality’s going beyond very narrow confines. Women, certainly, believed in its rarity and in definite boundaries. There were homosexuals in town, and we knew who they were: an elegant, light-voiced, wavy-haired paperhanger who called himself an interior decorator; the minister’s widow’s fat, spoiled only son, who went so far as to enter baking contests and had crocheted a tablecloth; a hypochondriacal church organist and music teacher who kept the choir and his pupils in line with screaming tantrums. Once the label was fixed, there was a good deal of tolerance for these people, and their talents for decorating, for crocheting, and for music were appreciated - especially by women. “The poor fellow,” they said. “He doesn’t do any harm.” They really seemed to believe - the women did - that it was the penchant for baking or music that was the determining factor, and that it was this activity that made the man what he was - not any other detours he might take, or wish to take. A desire to play the violin would be taken as more a deviation from manliness than would a wish to shun women. Indeed, the idea was that any manly man would wish to shun women, but most of them were caught off guard, and for good.

Part of the fun of this passage is that I see myself in it. I have been mistaken for gay more than a few times, and I’m sure the violin playing, crocheting, and cooking were significant factors.

Another really fun bit was from the tale of why a character’s father ran away from home at a young age.

“It was this way. They always carried the feed to the horses, pail by pail. In the winter, when the horses were in the stalls. So my father took the notion to carry it to them in the wheelbarrow. Naturally it was a lot quicker. But he got beat. For laziness. That was the way they were, you know. Any change of any kind was a bad thing. Efficiency was just laziness, to them. That’s the peasant thinking for you.”

“Maybe Tolstoy would agree with them,” I said. “Ghandi too.”

“Drat Tolstoy and Ghandi. They never worked when they were young.”

“Maybe not.”

I’ve had a moment or two with that sort of person, and it is particularly maddening to me. Maybe I am lazy.

One final one, a bit bitter, perhaps, but nonetheless true.

They were all in their early thirties. An age at which it is sometimes hard to admit that what you are living is your life.

I’m a pretty optimistic and positive person, even if I can be kind of introspective and moody in my blogging. Still, there were those moments with very small children when it was impossible not to feel that way. One’s life often does seem less scintillating than it looked when one was anticipating adulthood. On the other hand, it is in many ways much better too. It’s just those days with too many diapers and too little sleep.

So there you have it, my initiation into Alice Munro, and my thoughts thereon.

Notes on other female short story writers:

Lest anyone suggest it, I have read a good bit of Flannery O’Connor. A bit frightening sometimes, but nonetheless a brilliant writer.

I also like Willa Cather, but haven’t read anything of hers since I started the blog.

I have read - and reviewed - the following:

A Curtain of Green by Eudora Welty

The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros

Selected Short Stories and Sketches by Sarah Orne Jewett

Why I Do Not Teach My Kids Young Earth Creationism

A couple of months back, I was in court for an eviction case, which meant I got to see the small civil calendar. (Some days, this resembles the Jerry Springer show, which is one reason why I highly recommend it to those considering going into law. It makes us more realistic about the truthfulness of our clients.)

Before my case came up, there was another one where a woman was arguing that the default against her should be set aside because she hadn’t been properly served. The judicial officer asked her some questions, and it soon became clear that this was going to end badly.

At the end, the judicial officer said what no one ever wants to hear:

“I was leaning toward granting your petition until I heard your testimony.”

See, her case sounded good until you actually listened to what she said. Her own words left no doubt that she did not, in fact, have a case.

***

While my wife is the primary instructor at our home school, I do take a hand. Science is my subject, not because my wife isn’t good at it (she is), but because I have more of an interest - particularly in the teaching side. I always loved learning about science. From as far back as I can remember, I used to seek out books at the library on a variety of topics, and not just in the kids’ section either. I devoured a set of science encyclopedias just for fun. My very favorite book for years was a 1950s era book on electricity (reviewed here). I still spend a decent bit of time reading science articles, and continue to read in those areas.

One of my favorite science articles when I was 12.

Needless to say, I looked forward to teaching science, and in exploring (and occasionally answering) the myriad of questions that kids have about the world around us. What I didn’t anticipate was the difficulty in finding curriculum.

The initial problem was one that I suspect most teachers face.

Let’s be brutally honest: most elementary school science curriculum is geared toward novices. They are at minimum grossly oversimplified and have too many pictures compared to content. And most are so boring.

I’m speaking from experience. I loved science but found elementary level science books to be a waste of time. Which is why I devoured other sources.

Maybe it’s just hard to write something comprehensive that doesn’t overwhelm.

So, my approach has been, from the beginning, to start with at least middle school level books, and adapt to the level of each of my children.

***

Last year, though, I ran into another problem, which led to my taking a step that almost feels like a betrayal of my upbringing.

You see, I was raised primarily on Young Earth Creationism. I won’t go so far as to say that my parents were truly wedded to it. My father in particular gave me the impression he was open to a variety of options for the age of the earth and the means of creation.

My curriculum, however, and the other materials and ideas that predominated the fundamentalist Christian bubble of home schooling and its curriculum, was stridently and exclusively Young Earth. (Hereafter, “YEC.”)

So, I learned all the propaganda, the supposed proofs, and all that.

Nevertheless, I have believed in an old earth and universe for quite a long time - since my childhood. Even as a kid, I could see too many holes in the claim of a 6000 year old universe.

***

For the first few years of our homeschooling, I never really ran into a problem using a variety of sources for our science. I would omit any passing references to the age of the universe if necessary, but the early subjects we covered didn’t raise the issue much. I’m a theist, so I believe the universe was created (although I am not theologically wedded to a particular means of creation. See my review of Why Does the World Exist? for more on this), and general references to creation do not bother me. I do believe that there is an element of design in how we are made. If nothing else, the laws of the universe are amazingly elegant. It is when the claim goes beyond a general view of a created universe to the specifics of one particular view of how it happened and when that it really becomes a problem.

Two years ago, we studied the human body. This didn’t really lead to problems, because it is perfectly possible to do that study without taking a position on the age of the earth.

Not so much for astronomy, which we studied last year.

It is impossible to talk about the distances of space without realizing that there is a serious - and in my opinion - insurmountable problem with a 6000 year universe.

Where the heck did the light come from for galaxies millions of light years away?

And this is why I mentioned my little courtroom story.

Because nothing damns YEC so much as their attempt to explain this away.

I kid you not, in this particular book, it actually tried to claim that the speed of light had to have been faster in the past. I know it’s possible that this could have happened. One of my blogger friends describes most YEC “explanations” as “it could happen!”

Or what about the other, famous, explanation: that God made the light in transit so that it would look like it came from millions of light years away. “It could happen!”

But “it could happen!” requires that one ignore the evidence that actually exists.

It also puts God in a bad light.

See, for scientists (and science buffs like myself), we have to rely on what we can actually observe and what we can logically and mathematically reconstruct. By definition, “it might have happened” means that we have to assume that something extraordinary happened in the past (that we can’t observe or reconstruct) to make what we see not mean what it plainly means.

Thus, that starlight may seem to plainly mean that those stars existed millions of years ago. But the “it might have happened” event means that we can’t actually trust those well known laws of physics, etc. Nothing is what it seems.

And so it goes for all of the responses to facts that contradict the YEC position. For geology. For radioisotope dating. For the presence of virus DNA in our own. The explanations themselves are so bad - even an amateur science buff like myself can see that - that they have to fall back on “it could happen!”

Thus, God is made into a trickster. He intentionally built a universe (6000 years ago, of course), that he intentionally made to look far, far older. He went out of his way to fool us, so that we would have to believe by faith in spite of the evidence.

In other words, God made the universe like a Fender(™) Relic guitar. It’s really quite new, but it has been “distressed” to look old.

Fender Relic Telecaster. It only LOOKS old.

(I’m partial to the the Tele, although I am not a fan of the relic series. At all.) 

I’m sorry. I’m not that stupid. And neither are my kids. It would be insulting to expect them to swallow that. (In fact, there was a certain amount of incredulity when I had to explain that some thought that the universe was only 6000 years old. Because they have SEEN distant galaxies.)

Just like the hapless pro per in court that day, what the YEC proponents say to “explain” why the other side is wrong actually destroys any credibility they have.

And this is why I am using a secular curriculum for my kids this year. It is impossible to find a Christian-leaning course that is not all in for YEC, with heavy propaganda and made up “facts.”

Apparently the existence of those of us who retain our faith without a belief in a 6000 year old universe isn’t acknowledged within the homeschool or private school world anymore.

***

Unfortunately, this isn’t a new thing. Each generation of fundamentalists seems to have a new form of denialism.

For my grandparents’ generation (and before that), there was dinosaur denialism. The dinosaurs were made up, they never existed. It was all a hoax.

Yes, lots of people believed that. Some still do.

As my dad explained to me, though, he actually saw the bones in the ground. On location. They exist.

So, the old version of YEC actually, really, claimed that God put those bones there to test our faith. I do not kid.

Doesn’t that sound a bit like YEC now?

Somehow, it ends up being a version of the old saw, “Who you gonna believe, me or your own eyes?” (Apologies to Groucho Marx and Warren T. Rat from An American Tail. I’d post a clip if I could find one.)

***

Ultimately, the worst problem with YEC is that it pits faith against science in a completely unnecessary way.

It demands that one believe the provably false.

In order to claim a faith in God, one must believe a particular interpretation of the creation account. YEC advocates link the two in a way that demands belief. (The ridiculous Ken Ham recently personally attacked the faith of a fellow presenter at a home school conference because the presenter believed in an older earth. I do not kid.)

So what happens for so many is that they eventually gain an education in science, and they realize that YEC is a lie, and they lose their faith altogether.

Thinking about my various friends and acquaintances who have left the faith, I really can’t think of any who just wanted to “sin” so badly that they threw everything over.

I can, however, think of many who lost their faith over the YEC issue. They were unable to embrace something proven false, and that cost them their entire faith because of the way they were linked.

***

When I was young, our family didn’t do the Santa Claus thing AT ALL. Not that I exactly missed it or anything. It wasn’t a big deal.

But I will never forget what my mom told me about why we didn’t pretend Santa really existed.

She was worried that if she told me a myth - like Santa - and I later found out that he didn’t exist, that “lie” would cause me to wonder if God didn’t exist either.

Now, maybe it’s possible that someone lost their faith because of Santa Claus. I haven’t personally met any.

If anything, I believe children can differentiate between a harmless myth and a truth, between fun fantasy and reality.

It isn’t the mythology or the fairy tales that cause a loss of faith.

It is the things taught and believed as true by those who tell - and that are provably false - that damage.

All of us can grow past our belief in Santa - or Robin Hood - or our Fairy Godmother - without being called apostate and heretical.

But not so much with YEC…

***

And so, I am, I suppose, apostate.

I cannot teach my children of a literal six day creation 6000 years ago. I cannot ask them to ignore the evidence - and the ludicrous “refutations” offered by the YEC advocates.

I am a theist. I believe that in some ultimate sense, God did create the universe. I see evidence of a creator - of a master designer - everywhere.

What I do not see is evidence of a literalist interpretation of the Genesis account. Quite the contrary.

I am reminded of a joke about the Catholic Church regarding birth control. As is well known, the Catholic Church condones the use of the “rhythm method” of birth control, but considers condoms and hormonal methods to be sinful. (This is obviously church dogma, not practice, as many Catholics use the forbidden methods.)

Anyway, the joke goes that the Catholic Church permits birth control using mathematics, but not physics or chemistry.

Likewise, YEC fundamentalists are committed to the idea that God used “magic” to create the universe, but utterly deny that he might have used science, such as the laws of the universe, time, and a perfectly set up Rube Goldberg sequence of events.

Note on the history of YEC:

It’s always interesting to go back and research the connections between ideas and movements.

While the concept of a young earth isn’t all that new - a good number of thinkers, Christian and secular, believed in a 6000 year old earth as far back as history itself practically, it wasn’t universal.

As I’ll detail later, St. Augustine came down solidly on the side of a non-literal interpretation of Genesis.

There are a few points at which the movement took a key turn, however. The first was probably the Protestant Reformation, which gave rise to a new literalism in Biblical interpretation.

The next was a fellow named James Ussher, who in 1650 added up the genealogies to come up with a creation date of October 23, 4004 BCE. (We had a version of Ussher’s timeline on our wall when I was a kid.) Ussher continues to be the go-to guy for YEC calculations.

It wasn’t until after the scientific revolution that this really became more than a philosophical dispute.

Once one could prove the ancient age of the universe, it became a holy war between science and faith, which is truly unfortunate in my opinion.

The modern YEC movement is generally considered to have had the foundation laid in the 1920s with George McCready Price, a Seventh Day Adventist teacher. Like the vast majority of YEC writers today, he had little scientific training, and could barely tell one fossil from another. His writings were not based on science but on theology.

His works languished in obscurity until the 1960s when a man named Henry Morris founded the modern movement - including a number of the prominent organizations - in his resurrection of Price’s ideas. Morris was a geological engineer - again, not a practicing or trained scientist - and he based his ideas - just like Price - on theological considerations, not scientific evidence.

In 1961, Morris, with co-author (and theologian) John C. Witcomb published the seminal book on YEC doctrine, The Genesis Flood, which attempted to explain the apparent geological age of the earth by using the great Genesis Flood as the deux ex machina for all the evidence of an old earth. The book, unsurprisingly, relied on misconstrual of the evidence, misquotes of various scientists, and a complete mischaracterization of the facts it was trying to refute. But that isn’t the most interesting part of the story to me.

The book almost didn’t get published due to financial concerns, until a certain benefactor stepped in and paid the bills. Who might that person be? Any guesses?

Rousas J. Rushdoony. 

Yep. Rousas “Segregation” Rushdoony.

I was both shocked, and completely unsurprised at this.

Actually, in the interest of full disclosure, I kind of expected a connection, since Ken Ham is so buddy-buddy with prominent Reconstructionists like Doug Phillips and Gary North. So I googled it. It turns out the Reconstructionist crowd is really proud of the fact that they established the modern YEC. 

[Update 9-23-2014: Ken Ham continues to associate himself with White Supremacists. It turns out that a speaking engagement next month features Ham, and is put on by the Institute on the Constitution, a politically oriented group run by Michael Peroutka. Who? An erstwhile political candidate who is a member and former board member of The League of the South, a notorious seccesionist White Supremacist hate group. During his candidacy for a small local position, Peroutka requested endorsement from the League of the South, and pledged that the Institute on the Constitution would support the goals of the League of the South. Here are the details.]

Oh, and it gets better too!

In Morris’ book The Beginning of the World, published in the “ancient” time of...wait for it...1991, he states as follows:

The descendants of Ham were marked especially for secular service to mankind. Indeed they were to be 'servants of servants,' that is 'servants extraordinary!' Although only Canaan is mentioned specifically (possibly because the branch of Ham's family through Canaan would later come into most direct contact with Israel), the whole family of Ham is in view. The prophecy is worldwide in scope and, since Shem and Japheth are covered, all Ham's descendants must be also. These include all nations which are neither Semitic nor Japhetic. Thus, all of the earth's 'colored' races,--yellow, red, brown, and black--essentially the Afro-Asian group of peoples, including the American Indians--are possibly Hamitic in origin and included within the scope of the Canaanitic prophecy, as well as the Egyptians, Sumerians, Hittites, and Phoenicians of antiquity. ...

Somehow they have only gone so far and no farther. The Japhethites and Semites have, sooner or later, taken over their territories, and their inventions, and then developed them and utilized them for their own enlargement. Often the Hamites, especially the Negroes, have become actual personal servants or even slaves to the others. Possessed of a genetic character concerned mainly with mundane matters, they have eventually been displaced by the intellectual and philosophical acumen of the Japhethites and the religious zeal of the Semites.

You can find proof of this in Google Books. 

Anyone who has done even a cursory exploration of the various defenses of the institution of slavery during the American Civil War will instantly recognize this.

It is the same racist horseshit advanced by the defenders of slavery, such as R. L. Dabney, Rousas Rushdoony, and White Supremacists before and since.

On a philosophical level too, this connection is unsurprising. Reconstructionism is founded on the hyper-literalist application of Old Testament law as a blueprint for a modern theocracy. Hyper-literalism would thus apply to all of the Bible, of course.

The history is a bit revealing for a number of reasons. First is that it does connect the vile doctrine that lead inexorably to Patriarchy and its abuses to the YEC movement, in the process explaining the current cross-pollination.

Second, it gives the lie to several YEC claims. I remember all the claims that Darwinism was all about racism, supposedly considering Africans to be less evolved than Europeans. Not only is this not at all representative of modern science on that issue, but it also blatantly ignores the connection that YEC has to modern White Supremacy. And the White Supremacist beliefs of the YEC founders. Ouch.

Third, it reveals that, contrary to its claims, YEC was always about a theological imperative. Not just a belief that God created the world in some manner - which I believe - but a commitment to a certain principle of Biblical interpretation: hyper-literalism. It is a belief that we know exactly what every bit of the Bible means. That commitment meant that the age of the earth was never negotiable. No amount of evidence would ever sway the YEC believer, because it was always based on that hermeneutical premise. Contrary evidence would be met with “who you gonna believe?” That theological commitment also came with an agenda in the arena of politics, that of Reconstructionism.

The discovery of all these connections are making me believe that perhaps the conservative wing of Evangelical thought these last 60 years is a bit like Mos Eisley:

YEC was never a universal belief of the Church:

This was a recent discovery for me. I will say, it thrilled me. I’m not always a big fan of St. Augustine, who was as much of a misogynist as any man of his era, and had some curious views on sexuality. But I must admit, I believe he nailed this one.

In his commentary on the book of Genesis, The Literal Interpretation of Genesis, he writes regarding the creation account:

It not infrequently happens that something about the earth, about the sky, about other elements of this world, about the motion and rotation or even the magnitude and distances of the stars, about definite eclipses of the sun and moon, about the passage of years and seasons, about the nature of animals, of fruits, of stones, and of other such things, may be known with the greatest certainty by reasoning or by experience, even by one who is not a Christian. It is too disgraceful and ruinous, though, and greatly to be avoided, that he [the non-Christian] should hear a Christian speaking so idiotically on these matters, and as if in accord with Christian writings, that he might say that he could scarcely keep from laughing when he saw how totally in error they are. In view of this and in keeping it in mind constantly while dealing with the book of Genesis, I have, insofar as I was able, explained in detail and set forth for consideration the meanings of obscure passages, taking care not to affirm rashly some one meaning to the prejudice of another and perhaps better explanation.

Oh, need I mention that Augustine wrote this in the 5th Century CE? As in 1500 years ago? It sure fits today, doesn’t it.

“It is too disgraceful and ruinous, though, and greatly to be avoided, that he [the non-Christian] should hear a Christian speaking so idiotically on these matters, and as if in accord with Christian writings, that he might say that he could scarcely keep from laughing when he saw how totally in error they are.”

And also this, from the same work:

In matters that are so obscure and far beyond our vision, we find in Holy Scripture passages which can be interpreted in very different ways without prejudice to the faith we have received. In such cases, we should not rush in headlong and so firmly take our stand on one side that, if further progress in the search of truth justly undermines this position, we too fall with it.

This advice would be well taken regarding so many issues.

Some troubling theological implications:

I’m not enough of a theologian to really do justice to the theological implications of an old earth, let alone the implications that evolution have on our view of God, man, and sin.

My blogger friend Tim Chastain has written some interesting things on the subject. Many will reject him because he is a progressive, rather than an evangelical, but I have found his account of his journey away from and back to faith to be a benefit to me. In addition, I love his gentle spirit and emphasis on the character of Christ as the center of our faith. You can read a bit about his views on the implications of the rejection of the YEC paradigm here. 

Rather than try to explore all of this myself, I want to look simply at the natural result that the lack of a literal and historical Adam and Eve would have on Christian fundamentalism.

In the most literal and fundamentalist view of the Adam and Eve narrative, this is what happened: God set up a seemingly arbitrary rule (eat from all trees, but not this one), and man, naturally given his curiosity, failed. This damned all of humanity except the very few who will be redeemed. For the Calvinist, these few are chosen, and the rest are damned, with nothing they can do about it.

(I know this is a bit of an oversimplification, but bear with me.)

In the fundamentalist view, then, the Original Sin was a failure to follow an arbitrary rule on the basis of “God said so.” Thus, the primary lesson of The Fall was, “follow the rules, even if you don’t understand or agree with them.”

(The secondary lesson, equally important to fundamentalists, as I have pointed out elsewhere, is that women should never make decisions on their own, but should always defer to men, because it was a damn woman that got us into this mess in the first place.)

These two “lessons” are the keystones of the fundamentalist worldview and practice. The focus is on the following of arbitrary rules, many of which are cultural preferences rather than truly moral and ethical standards. The key fact of the world is that of hierarchy. We all obey God (fine), but God speaks through “authorities” which are never to be questioned. Because, after all, isn’t that the Original Sin? Stepping out from under authority and asking awkward questions? “Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die.”

It all fits with the fundamentalist worldview. The leaders decide what the Bible means, and what the rules are. Don’t question. Just obey. Double for women.

Now in contrast, if the Adam and Eve story turns out to be a parable, with a deeper symbolic meaning, then maybe we have to look at it as more than just an admonition to “follow the rules.”

What does “knowledge of good and evil” mean? How does it fit with the two greatest commandments as stated by Christ: “love God” and “love your neighbor”? I have no easy answers, but it does appear that it would go deeper than just a set of arbitrary cultural rules.

I’m not going to pretend to understand what went wrong. I see plenty of evidence that mankind has gone wrong. We are vicious and violent, often cruel beyond belief. Something is broken. What happened? I’m not sure we will know until eternity. But somehow I think it went deeper than a failure to follow an arbitrary rule once upon a time.

I think that terrifies the fundamentalists - particularly the Reconstructionists - because their whole theology is based on a set of rules to be imposed on the rest of society. Without the foundational view of sin as a failure to follow rules, there is no basis to re-create the Ancient Near East, or the Greco-Roman world. The measurement of sin is no longer just arithmetic of rules.

And thus, the literal interpretation of Genesis - and the 6000 year old age of the earth is non-negotiable. Because their faith collapses without it.

I think it is a bit sad, too, that this is the case. Because science has, one way or another, forced a change in theology. The literalists have had to change theirs too, as I already noted. Since they cannot reconsider their belief in a literal 6 days 6000 years ago, they have had to make a much more profound and troubling change in their theology.

They have had to believe and teach that God is not trustworthy.

That He lies by making creation appear different than it is in an effort to test the faith of true believers.

This, to me, is a far more disturbing theological change. If Christianity must become a denial of reality, a belief against obvious evidence - and more than that, a belief in a trickster god, then one has to wonder why one would bother.

Conspiracy Theories:

The bread and butter of YEC is the idea that there is all this evidence of a young universe out there, but that it has been suppressed by a demonic conspiracy against Christianity.

I am a lawyer, so court cases are fascinating to me. A pivotal case regarding the question of teaching YEC in public schools was McLean v. Arkansas Board of Education in 1983. (You can read the entire opinion here.) 

In this case, a law was passed in (majority Christian) Arkansas authorizing the teaching of YEC in public schools. The law was challenged, and a trial resulted.

Although the outcome was unsurprising to me - the law was struck down because YEC was found to be religion, not science - there was one completely surprising fact in the opinion.

See, if you believe the conspiracy theory, then there is this whole body of evidence out there in favor of YEC. Thousands and thousands of experiments, papers, research projects, etc., that give evidence of a young earth. A whole boatload of evidence that never saw the light of day because of the conspiracy to suppress it.

Well, it turns out, not so much.

At trial, those in favor of teaching YEC could not produce evidence of ONE such paper that was rejected by a mainstream scientific publication. Not ONE experiment or research project suppressed by the conspiracy.

NOT. ONE. FREAKING. ONE.

Is that clear enough?

The claim of a conspiracy is just horseshit propaganda.

Because, when it came time to show actually evidence, there was none. Nobody is actually finding contradictory evidence and trying to get it published.

Actually, this makes sense. It is much more lucrative to speak at conferences, sell books, and prey on people’s fears than it is to actually do the boring and painstaking work of research. Research that might not support one’s theological commitments.

That’s why when one seeks out the credentials and history of the luminaries of YEC, one finds really quickly that they don’t have actual scientific training or experience.

Let me make one further distinction. There are plenty of Christians in science. Most of them are probably making contributions to knowledge just like everyone else. Those in the trenches of whatever belief generally tend to work hard and conscientiously. There are some kooks in every field, certainly, and they are not all atheists or all Christians by any means.

However, a belief in creationism is not to be confused with a belief in YEC, which presupposes an exact time and means of creation. (Let me give credit to Phil Plait, who is not religious, but has been careful to distinguish YEC, which makes unsupportable claims, from creationism in general, which is open to a variety of means by which God has accomplished creation.)

What I have not found yet, however, is someone whose career is devoted to fields that involve the age of the universe (astrophysics, for example) or the earth (paleontology, for example) that believes in a young earth or universe. There is simply too much in the way of evidence that one must ignore in service of one’s theological commitments to a particular interpretation of the Bible.

Some Inconvenient Ancient History:

One of the most problematic issues for the literalist interpretation of the entire Pentateuch is that much of it is borrowed from earlier sources.

The creation story has much in common with other Ancient Near East accounts, some of which pre-dated the earliest date that Moses (or whoever wrote it down) could have lived. In addition, the cosmology assumed in the first chapter of Genesis was a common (and erroneous) belief within that culture. In simplified form, the ancients believed the sky was a bowl, suspending a layer of water above the earth.

This needn’t be a problem, unless one assumes that the creation account was meant to be a literal, scientifically accurate, account of what happened. If one instead assumes a parable, a tale told to make specific theological points, then there is nothing surprising or wrong about it. Of course the author would make use of existing myths and beliefs, but put his own twist on the events to make the point. Kind of like Christ did throughout His ministry. It is amazing how little He spoke directly of doctrine, choosing parable and story and metaphor over the literal.

But, perhaps if you wish to take the rest of the Pentateuch as literally as possible, and make it into a detailed prescription for the ideal civil society, you can’t accept either a metaphor or that the cosmology was borrowed from the existing culture and beliefs.

Likewise for the Mosaic law, which likewise turns out not to be quite so original as we are often taught. The Code of Hammurabi was in existence 500 years before the earliest date Moses could have lived (and thus received the law at Sinai.) The Code influenced every Ancient Near East culture, and is recognizable in the Torah as well. True, a new spin was put on some of the rules. For example, Hammurabi allowed a husband to drown his wife as a disciplinary measure, but the Torah does not, but the basic legal framework is still in place. Moses (or whoever wrote it down) borrowed an existing legal and social system that was hundreds of years old and was derived from pagan culture, much as the United States would later borrow from the English Common Law in setting up its own legal and political system.

Again, this is a huge problem if you believe in the Torah as a literal prescription for law and society. It would mean in large part, the return to a pagan system that believed women were property (among other faults).

But, if one is realistic about the Torah’s origins, then one can view it as another instance of God working within the culture, introducing some more humane provisions within a flawed system. I hope to flesh this out in my eventual post - or series - on Theonomy, and why I believe it is mistake.

As should be obvious, I do not believe the Bible was literally dictated word for word, making the authors merely amanuenses for God. I believe God inspired humans, who wrote in ways that they understood, but which do not reflect the same understanding of science and reality that we have now. Thus, it is natural that scripture wouldn't work either as a science textbook or as a manual for government.

Science and Religion do not have to be enemies:

In my observation, the battle isn’t really between science and religion per se, or between science and Christianity per se. Rather, it is a battle between one particular interpretive lens of scripture and science.

It doesn’t have to be so.

I think the first thing one needs to recognize is that there are some things science does really well. It has limitations, of course, but it is good at increasing knowledge of the physical world. It can tell us a great deal about how things function, the laws that govern them, and the details of how our world is.

It can also tell us a good deal about what happened in the past.

This is not to say that science is always right. But it is a learning process, that aims for self-correction. Our understanding has increased with time and experimentation. Even when we are unsure of the exact details, we can predict the workings of the world in ways that enable us to use it for our purposes. The very computer on which I write this post is evidence of that.

Science is unable, however, to answer the ultimate “Why?” question. Why is there something rather than nothing? Why are there elegant laws that govern the world? I explored this in my review of Why Does the World Exist? which is a great introduction to the need for philosophy and/or religion to answer the question. One way or another, it boils down to “Because!” as the ultimate answer.

Likewise, science is limited in its ability to solve ethical dilemmas. It can help by disproving false assumptions in some cases, and can help us weigh risks and benefits, but ultimately, it isn’t a good basis for acting unselfishly. That is another question best answered by religion or philosophy.

However, it is best not to lose sight of the fact that science can answer some questions definitively, and not let our theology be in contrast to those answers. A simple example of that would be our knowledge of the effects of lead or mercury poisoning. We should treat that, rather than ascribe the mental damage to demon possession. Our scientific knowledge enables us to make a more effective treatment, and shouldn’t be felt as a threat to our theological framework. 

Ultimately, we have to realize that our interpretations are not infallible, and may need to be adjusted as our knowledge increases. We cannot arrogantly assume that we understand the Bible perfectly and that we always interpret it correctly. We need a degree of humility to say that we have been wrong (say, about slavery…) and adjust our assumptions to match reality. That isn’t compromise, but humility.

The Irony of Homeschooling:

It has been an open secret for decades that the United States has done a poor job (on average) in science and math education. Sure, there are always exceptions. But as an average, it has not been all that good.

In particular, I will say that I have not been impressed with the average knowledge of adults of my generation and older. I hate to sound condescending, but I would say that 90% lack what I would consider a basic high school level knowledge of science and math. That would mean algebra, geometry, basic chemistry and biology. (I won’t even include physics, but it would sure help.)

In a great twist of irony, many, many parents decided to home school their children in large part because of the issue of creationism. Can’t have any indoctrination into that secularist, evil view of origins. (Part of the damage that Rushdoony and Morris did was to equate a belief in an old earth with every evil in the world from communism to genocide.)

This aim, though, backfired, because the very generation raised on wholly inadequate public science education taught the next generation to think critically, and actually learn the mechanics of science and the related facts. Thus, the public schoolers were able (through their ignorance) to embrace YEC, while many of the home schoolers learned just a bit too much, and realized that YEC couldn’t possibly be true. Ironic.

The Heavens are Telling:

Once upon a time - like earlier this evening - I went out and stared at the stars and planets. I love the mountains for many reasons. I like to look up at tall trees, tall peaks. I like to look down at the valleys and at wildflowers.

But as much as anything, I love to look at the heavens. I like stars, planets, galaxies, and nebulae. This year, the kids and I spent many evenings looking through big telescopes at objects many millions of light years away. It never grows old. Creation is fascinating.

The universe has gotten bigger as time has gone on. Not just the expansion, which is well proven, but our knowledge of it has expanded. What we thought a few hundred years ago was a polished dome above us has become a nearly limitless expanse, filled with trillions of worlds. We are even smaller than we thought.

As I gaze, I am still filled with wonder and awe. “What is man, that thou art mindful of him?”

The fact that I believe the universe to be billions of years old does nothing to reduce that wonder.

Unfortunately, for many who would and will look at that sky, they will feel that the heavens are not telling of the glory of God, but rather of His deceitful nature, and His attempts to fool mankind so that only the elect could believe it was created. And many of those will conclude that the heavens are telling of the non-existence of God, rather than His glory.

You knew I would be unable to resist a bit of music. Haydn’s imaginative musical representation of creation still sounds fresh today. I marvel at his technique of displaying the action in the orchestra before it appears in the lyrics, perhaps an idea adopted by C. S. Lewis in his tale of the creation of Narnia.

I had the opportunity to play 2nd violin for a production at California State University Bakersfield a few years back. One of many musical highlights of my life. This chorus and trio in particular never grows old.

The Heavens Are Telling

Links:

First of all, and perhaps the best, I present this extensive refutation of YEC propaganda. Once upon a time, I knew all the “proofs” of YEC, and watched them crumble as I learned some, actual, you know, science. I appreciate that the author links to real, reputable sources.

Is There Really Evidence of a Young Earth? 

The Wartburg Watch, a website dedicated to the fight against spiritual abuse, ran an excellent series by an actual scientist (and Christian) refuting a number of the ludicrous claims of YEC. It serves as a great introduction to some of the easiest proofs of an old earth and old universe.

http://thewartburgwatch.com/2014/01/20/does-science-support-a-six-day-creation-what-is-science-parts-1-and-2/ 

http://thewartburgwatch.com/2014/01/29/what-does-the-universe-say-about-the-age-of-creation/ 

http://thewartburgwatch.com/2014/01/31/reasons-why-science-supports-an-old-solar-system-and-an-old-earth/

Late addition: My cousin the mathematician contributed to our discussion of this post. He brought to my attention an outstanding essay by the late Isaac Asimov, on the question of what it means that old theories get discarded or upgraded as information increases. Old theories do indeed get proven "wrong," but each one in turn becomes less "wrong" than the last. What doesn't happen is a return to the old theories and progress does not require dismissal of the entire scientific endeavor.

http://chem.tufts.edu/answersinscience/relativityofwrong.htm

Finally, I want to link a post that was made relatively recently. 

http://gungormusic.com/2014/08/im-with-you/

Gungor is a contemporary Christian band, and one that inadvertently inspired some serious controversy. The rumor - true as it turned out - that they did not adhere to the YEC orthodoxy demanded by so much of Christianity led to them being labeled as heretics.

As I am sure I will be as well after this post...

Every time I read and re-read this, I feel just how thoughtful and wise it is.

[F]undamentalists tend to huddle together out of fear. And in an attempt to shut the evil of the world out of these huddles, they also tend to shut out all of the good and true things that the world has discovered as well. These huddles tend to emphasize things that don’t really matter to anybody but those within the huddle. It’s a way of knowing who the other huddlers are. Those boundary markers can be things like “we don’t dance.” Or “we don’t play cards.” Or “we don’t drink alcohol.” Or “we believe that there was a literal naked couple in a garden 6,000 years ago.”

…

But listen, huddle people… I’m for you. I really am. And I’m with you. I was raised in the huddle. Some of the best people I know are in the huddle. But you don’t need to be so afraid. You don’t need to repress your intellectual ability to ask questions and seek truth in order to stay in the shadow of the huddle. Because, let me tell you something, there is light outside. In fact, God is both inside and outside of your huddle. And you can still love God and love people and read those early Genesis stories as myth with some important things to teach us. Not all of you will be ready to do that, and that’s perfectly ok. But know that if you create these dichotomies where we force people to either fall into the camp of scientifically blind biblical literalism or a camp where they totally write off the Bible as a complete lie, you’re going to rob a lot of people of some of the richness that the Bible offers. You’re going to create a lot more jaded, cynical people that are completely anti-religion out there. And you are going to continue to repress the questions that lurk in the back of your own mind. And that’s just not healthy. That sort of thinking actually quashes and limits human thriving in the world.

And that’s really where I am about this and so many other issues related to fundamentalism.