The Ark and The Dove

Dear, BoingBoing -- Stick to the Geek Stuff

The latest BoingBoing post to fuel my ire:
http://boingboing.net/2011/08/30/irish-catholics-object-to-child-abuse-disclosure-law.html

In this post, blogger Rob Beschizza links to an article on an Irish legal attempt to compel priests to break the Seal of Confession in cases of child abuse.

Obviously, the Church objects to such a law. Beschizza conjectures: "I wonder if it's really about the ongoing use of the sacrament to hide internal discussions of undisclosed abuses from the possibility of legal scrutiny."

Right. Because that's rampant in the confessional. Bishops are sneaking into each other's confessionals to hold secret conclaves under the Seal of Confession. That doesn't even sound canonically feasible, let alone reasonable. It also sounds like a completely paranoid view of Confession.

Priests who broke the law; priests who actively engaged in cover-ups; priests who knew what was going on outside of Confession but who did nothing to stop it -- those priests should be punished. A secular law against the Seal of Confession will not stop any of that, though.

Plus, there is the utterly mystifying logic of such a law. What good could it possibly do?

Let's say that a priest hears the confession of a child abuser. The priest has a solemn responsibility not to expose what has been confessed. It's part of his vows. Thus, it stands to reason, that only a priest who would break his vows would be willing to reveal such a sin.

A good priest, a priest who keeps vows, would not reveal the sin under any circumstance. He would rather be punished by the secular authorities than disobey God.

So what's the result of such a law? A bunch of bad priests will turn over the criminals, while a bunch of good priests will go to jail.

Next, if word gets out that Confessions are no longer protected by the Seal, then no one in their right mind would confess their sins (at least not until after they were caught). So the law would essentially render itself impractical. Priests would have nothing to report because there would be no confessions to report.

What's the point of this law, again?

Worse yet, if such a law were passed, you'd have a bunch of hidden-camera journalists posing as child molestors in Confessionals, and then reporting the priests who didn't report them. Priests would end up being punished for not reporting crimes that didn't happen.

It would be absurd.

So, if by chance, Rob Beshizza stumbles upon this blog, let me make something clear.

The purpose of the Sacrament of Confession is to offer God's spiritual forgiveness for sins. The Church doesn't even teach that this forgiveness eliminates the need for temporal punishment. But -- and this is the really important part -- as Christians, we believe that God wants to forgive all of our sins, and that He will in fact forgive any sin--no matter how vile, putrid, or harmful--so long as it is confessed with a contrite heart.

You might not believe in souls and sins and God and forgiveness. You might not think God is capable of forgiving child abusers. It's a hard idea even for believers to accept, but there it is.

Pass a law like this, and all it means is that we'll have priests being dragged into prison for testifying to God's mercy.

But was always Christ's message, wasn't it? He died to let the sinners know God was willing to forgive them, even if the world wouldn't. Christ didn't die just to save the people who committed not-so-bad sins. Christ also died for the people who really don't seem worth dying for at all.

I guess a priest going to prison for the sake of a pedophile he doesn't even know would be the modern equivalent...

But, if I had the chance to vote on it, I'd rather it not come to that.

I Stand Corrected!

When I went to bed last night, Weather.com was stating that the worst of Irene was currently hitting the region. Irene's worst didn't seem so bad.

Driving to Church this morning, however, was a veritable obstacle course of downed trees, repair crews, and disabled traffic lights. So, Irene did some damage out here after all.

Hurricane!

Irene is apparently here.

I'm not exactly sure though.

We've had thunderstorms worse than what we're getting now, although I imagine coastal areas are getting more action.

Anyway, the real reason I was posting on this was to get political. We had been talking about how the possibly over-reaction that the federal government has taken on this hurricane seems to be a response to Katrina. "See," Obama seems to say, "I have this covered way better than Bush did."

But then I started thinking, the horror of Katrina wasn't just the hurricane. It was the region itself which was highly susceptible to flooding because it is at the mouth of the Mississippi...where people apparently like to live below sea level anyway.

Really, the more appropriate comparison should be the federal reaction to the BP spill in the Gulf of Mexico. Back then, critics were complaining that Obama wasn't aggressive enough in response to a natural disaster.

Has Obama's aggressive and visible response to Irene really been an attempt to erase the almost forgotten image of him doddering over the BP spill?

If damage is minimal, will he give credit to the mercy of Mother Nature...or will he take credit for having better prepared us?

Earthquake!

Felt it here!

It wasn't too strong, but it was enough to make the house bounce a little. Nothing fell over or anything of that magnitude. At first, I thought it was a truck rolling by...then I realized that I live in the country and my street is a deadend.

I felt a bit foolish when I opened the front door and the grounds crew was just mowing lawns as if nothing happened. I guess if you were already moving around and had a lawnmower going, you wouldn't have even noticed anything unusual.

Of course, I didn't know it was an earthquake until I called my parents' house since I don't have television out here. Maybe Mozilla needs to start an emergency / breaking news app to pop up in windows.

Cowboys vs. Aliens vs. God

Since moving to our current location, Isabel and I average about one movie theater experience a year.

Sad, isn't it?

We used to be pretty avid movie goers back in the day, especially when she used to live across the street from an AMC. My Movie Watcher card was practically worn out back then.

Nowadays, it is rare for one of us to want to see a movie enough to warrant a half-hour drive to the theater. This summer, Isabel had her heart set on Cowboys and Aliens. I think she was hoping for Harrison Ford to redeem himself from Indiana Jones IV. I'm not quite sure he did, but this was, by far, a better movie.

There is almost nothing original in Cowboys and Aliens. You can predict pretty much everything that happens in the movie, as it follows every cliche Western and sci-fi plot device in the book. And it really isn't even that much of a mash-up. We've seen westerns set in space for years now...this is just the first time a major production has brought space to the western.

Perhaps the movie's most provocative element (for me at least) was that it took a surprisingly earnest and sincere look at faith and possibly even Christianity through the (also cliche) figure of the gun-toting preacher who keeps assuring other characters of the existence of free will, grace, forgiveness, and God. I'm not sure that the movie itself sides with the preacher in the end, at least on the God part, but he at least comes off as a virile, strong, masculine, character. More importantly, he doesn't come off as naive or an innocent lost in the woods. He comes off as a character who has seen a lot and been through a lot, but still chooses to believe despite the hardships of the Wild West...and despite the appearance of man-eating aliens.

On a more secular note, try not to think too hard if you see this movie. Most of the plot development depends more on the necessities of genre than a logical unity of action. Isabel made the comment that she felt as though there were scenes missing: she thought perhaps she had missed an explanation or rationale for characters to make certain choices. Instead, it was more tautological: the sheriff does X because that's what sheriffs in Westerns do.

When the movie does attempt to explain itself, the experience is painful. Why are the aliens abducting people? We learn that aliens are abducting people so that the aliens can perform experiments on them and learn their weaknesses. Really? Because it was pretty evident to me that 19th-Century humanity's greatest weakness was being shot with a laser beam...just sayin'.

I also found it frustrating that whenever humans managed to kill an alien, they never tried to steal its weapons and use them. Even the Ewoks figured out how to use Imperial blasters.

Most confusing, the film proposed an absurd plot contrivance to establish the stakes. Conveniently, the aliens that have arrived are a scouting party. The aliens, using alien logic, will never attempt to take over a planet where the scouting party is lost. Apparently, they don't even send rescue teams or call for backup. Maybe this is some kind of warrior code or something. I didn't get it.

Also, we noticed that when the humans are abducted, they are apparently sent to the Guardians of Ga'Hoole movie: (the human prisoners are all hypnotized by a giant-glowing structure in the ceiling that is right out of that snoozer owl movie).

Back on the positive side, though, the movie was a kind of Anti-Avatar. Indeed, Cameron's Avatar and Cowboys and Aliens are almost identical in plot...only, in this case, the humans are the victims rather than the victimizers.

Why I Need Isabel

Today, I was working intensely on a short piece that I am writing for one of those popular press collection. The deadline is coming up, and I had to cut quite a few pages. When lunchtime came, I was still hacking away...and I hadn't quite managed to change entirely out of my sleeping attire. Isabel was hungry, but I was on something of a roll, so I didn't join her when she went out to grab a sandwich. As the hours passed, and I finally managed to cut the piece down to the maximum length, I noticed there was a sale on action figure at Toys R Us...so I decided to reward myself. I put on my outside clothes, hopped in the car, drove to the toy store...checked out some other usual haunts (I will find you, Wreck-gar!)...stopped at a Borders to see if there were any good sales yet...drove home, and checked e-mail until Isabel came home...which she eventually did.

That's when I learned the pocket on my t-shirt had somehow migrated to my right shoulder blade.

I had, in fact, spent much of my afternoon wearing my shirt backwards.

Rotting My Brain...for Charity!

Just when I thought it was safe to turn on my computer again, I stumbled upon a link to The Humble Indie Bundle.

The H.I.B. is an experiment in freemarkets, a political statement, and a charity to boot. Here's the deal: five independent game developers offer one of their titles as part of the bundle. The bundle is sold with a pay-what-you-like model. Even more provocative, the purchaser is offered a series of sliding bars to determine precisely where his or her money goes. The money can be distributed among a) the Child's Play charity, b) the Electronic Freedom Foundation, c) the developers themselves, and d) the Humble Indie Bundle site itself. If you want, you can give all of the money to charity, or the developers, or divvy it up however you want.

But again, you name your price for these games...which usually sell online for around ten bucks each. And (this is starting to sound like an advertisement), if you pay above the current average, they toss in another set of games to boot!

It's also been an interesting study in human behavior to watch the site's numbers. They post how much people are paying and break down the data into sets.

For instance, they've made $1,132,074.62 at the time that I'm writing this. That's from 232,663 transactions...so the average payment is a little under five bucks. Then you find out that the average Windows user is only donating $3.89...the average Mac user is donating $6.71...and the average Linux user is donating a whopping $11.67. (Very few people evidently think these games together are worth the retail price...but they all think they are worth owning.)

Windows users pay below the average while Macusers pay above average. This sort of makes sense given that Mac users obviously are willing to spend more money on technology. But Linux users, people who are using an OS that is freeware, pay the most. It seems clear that Linux users want to make a statement, rewarding people who are willing to trust the consumer by making their games available for virtually nothing. (The games are also DRM-free, so you could be a jerk and make copies of them if you wanted...but the H.I.B. crew assumes that jerks don't win in the software market.)

Obviously, I bought the bundle already.

Fortunately, most of these games fall under the "casual" category, so I can jump in, play for a few minutes, and then go back to work. And they are all really good games. My favorites in this third bundle so far are Crayon Physics and VVVVVV. Crayon Physics is an "incredible machine" type game where you draw in the machine parts using a crayon, VVVVVV is a retro call-back to C64 games. (And if you donate above the average, you also get Braid...which I would say is probably the best game in the collection. It's very artsy-fartsy.)

Anyway, given the kinds of people who still read this blog, I thought I'd let you know about it. You can pay as little as five bucks to get $110 of games.

Is Stephen Fried?

A BoingBoing blog post links to an animated video (really, its more like a moving illustration than an animation) of a debate between Stephen Fry and Ann Widdecomb on whether or not the Catholic Church is a force for good in the world. BoingBoing is hardly sympathetic to the Catholic Church (although it is almost always ready to defend Islam as a misunderstood religion), but I tolerate their more intolerant moments because they sometimes have interesting tech and geek culture posts.

Anyway, the debate is unfortunate. It appears to be heavily edited, so I don't always know what the context is for individual statements...and it's unfortunate that Ann Widdicombe's voice comes off sounding a bit screechy whereas Fry sounds relaxed and mellow.

Widdicombe's first point is salient, worthwhile, and goes pretty much completely ignored for the rest of the video...both by Fry and herself. She starts by stating how much charity work the Church does in the world today. She also described the hope that the Church brings to the poor today. But it seems to me she should have kept using this as her retort throughout the whole debate. Maybe she did, and it was just cut out.

Fry's counterargument, for the most part, seems to revolve around only a few modern issues, and dwells repetitively on history.

The modern issues that appear to nullify the Church's widespread and generous charity work: 1) the Church (or, rather, he says just the pope in particular) tell him that it is not his "sexual destiny" (his term) to have physical relationships with other men, 2) the Church made a statement to the U.N. that hindered birth control, and 3) women can't be priests.

Really? These issues weigh more heavily than the good the Church does?

Other than that, Fry whines about Church abuses in history -- Inquisitions, indulgences, yaddayaddayadda. Widdicombe attempts to put these in historical context, but it comes off flimsy. She says we'd have to condemn all of history, and I bet Fry would be willing to do so. Rather, I would have preferred if she had shown how the Church was generally a force of progress and improvement.

Many modern historians believe that while the Inquisitions certainly got out of hand and could be abused, they also brought order to an even more abusive and even more superstitious system of jurisprudence. Issues like slavery also have a historic context. While we could pat ourselves on the back if the Church had expressed 19th Century abolitionist sentiments back in the 15th Century, the fact is that our ability to perceive the humanity of the slave is largely due to Christian morality. Even the complaint about indulgences is a bit old now. It's not like the Church forced people to buy them, which is less than we can say about the environmentalist movement. But if we eradicate institutions because scam artists prey upon people, then we're going to have to shut down the Internet on account of all of those Nigerian princes.

In any event, we aren't burning people at the stake anymore, and Chaucer's pardoner has been long dead...or at least he's swapped his relics for a laptop.

Perhaps the most original argument Fry uses is that Jesus Christ would be deeply offended by the Vatican and all of its ostentatious displays of wealth.

But this is a weak argument. Jesus has a tendency to surprise us with his responses. Remember, it is Judas who complains when Jesus lets the woman waste perfume on him that could have been spent on the poor. (But maybe Fry will say that passage was inserted into the Gospel by greedy prelates.) It always boggles my mind when people assume that the Pope lives like Scrooge McDuck...swimming in mounds of gold...as if the modern day Vatican is the Pope's personal playground and not a living museum of Church history.

What both bugs me and comforts me the most, though, is that Fry uses standards for the Church that he wouldn't use for any other institution. It's obnoxious, because it seems like bad rhetoric. It's comforting, though, because it means that Fry still somehow recognizes that the Church is on a higher order than other institutions. He demands nothing short of perfection from the Church and its members...which is more than God demands. God invites perfection, but He anticipates our failings.

Analogy: People like Fry perceive the Church in the way that children perceive heroic figures like their parents. They build up these huge enormous expectations and are utterly and completely devastated when they find out their former heroes have flaws...so they lash out and condemn them as frauds.