Christians, Pacifism, and The Jesus Number

This was originally the Main Topic of episode 146 of the GunBlog VarietyCast. It has been transcribed and updated for your convenience. 

I am a Christian. I also carry a firearm for self-defense. Others might consider this contradictory, but I do not.

I am thoroughly sick of the notion that in order to be a good Christian, one has to be such a pacifist that "Turn the other cheek" has become "Go limp and allow yourself to be victimized." That's a misinterpretation of Jesus' commands, and I'm going to prove it.

Let's start with the Old Testament. I know that everyone thinks that the Sixth Commandment says "Thou Shalt Not Kill", but the proper Hebrew translation for it is Thou Shalt Not Murder. This is an incredibly important distinction, because while the Bible contains many prohibitions against unlawful killing there are just as many rules for lawful killing when it comes to capital punishment, warfare, and yes, self-defense, and some of these are direct Commandments from God Himself.

Second, the statement by Jesus to turn the other cheek is a prohibition against carrying grudges and seeking revenge and a commandment that we strive to forgive those who wrong us; it is not a commandment to allow people to victimize us without resistance. I say this based upon three events from the Gospels:

1) Jesus intervened to prevent an adulterous woman from being stoned to death. He didn't turn the other cheek; He saw the inherent value of her life in the face of a crowd who wanted her dead. 

2) Jesus made a whip and went into the temple where the money changers and livestock sellers were defiling His Father's house and he knocked over tables and drove the cattle out. It's unclear if the whip was used on the people, or if it was just to drive away the sheep and cattle; either way cracking the whip and knocking over tables is pretty darn intimidating. He didn't turn the other cheek; He acted to prevent what He saw a desecration. 

3) In Luke 22:36, Jesus Himself told His disciples that if any of them did not have a sword, they should sell their cloaks -- a very important article of clothing -- and buy swords. Now it's worth pointing out the sword is unlike a knife or a club:

• Knives are tools that are used to cut things; you can use them for eating, or making things, or repairing things, or carving items out of wood. 
• A club can be a hammer to make or repair things; it can be used for hunting to gather food, and it can be used to separate grain from husks while farming. 
• A sword however has one purpose: to kill human beings. It is specifically designed and optimized for that, and Jesus told His disciples to purchase and carry one if they didn't have one because He would no longer be present to protect them.
• What's more, the original Greek word translated into English as "sword" is machaira. It is a short, single-edged weapon; basically a large knife or a dagger, possibly as long as a short sword. In other words, it was too large to be a practical tool but too small to be a weapon of war; it was specifically a weapon of self-defense. In other words, it was the concealed pistol of its time. 

This brings us to something that I have started calling The Jesus Number. When Jesus told His disciples to buy swords, they responded with " 'Lord, behold: here are two swords' and He said unto them, 'It is enough.'" Two swords out of 12 disciples were considered sufficient; that's one in six or roughly 17 percent of the Disciples. And yes, I'm counting Judas in this; Jesus' command to buy a sword (Luke 22:36) came before Judas's betrayal (Luke 22:47).

So how many armed Americans does it take to fulfill the Jesus Number? Let's run some numbers.

• As of August 2018, there are 17.25 million concealed carry permits in the United States. 
• The adult population of the USA, also as of August 2018, is 252,063,800 people.
• According to Jesus, 17% of that adult population -- 42,850,846 people -- should be carrying a weapon for self-defense. 
• However, 17.25 million of 252 million means that only 6.845% of the total adult population of the country has a license to carry a concealed weapon (up from 6.0% in 2017). 

(Disclaimer: These are rough numbers that don't account for various factors such as individuals having non-resident carry permits in addition to a resident permit; people in states where permits aren't needed because constitutional carry is the law of the land; or for states which require an adult to be older than 18 to have a concealed carry license.)

Given these numbers, we can see that the United States needs two and a half times the number of armed individuals that Jesus considered sufficient for self-defense. Almost seven percent of the population has a concealed carry permit, and yet according to the Prince of Peace that number is insufficient.

I expect some of you are wondering how I can reconcile speaking of guns and peace in the same sentence. As explanation, I will close with an excellent bit of philosophy that was told to me by Gwen Patton, First Speaker Emeritus for the Pink Pistols:

When used properly, within the law and prevailing custom, guns do not create violence; they negate it. They are 180 degrees out of phase with violence and thus neutralize it. The true core of violence is that it violates law and custom. Violence is force, but not all force is violence. Some forms of force neutralize violence and create peace.

When one engages in self-defense, one applies force in the exact measure necessary to stop a violent attack; no more and no less. One stays within the law and within local custom, and one respects that, even though they perpetrated violence, the violator still has rights and while their violence deserves no respect, their humanity does. Those who engage in violence, by definition, do not respect the humanity of their targets.

Correctly performed self-defense is the act of bringing peace into existence. Peace is not avoiding violence. Peace is an action, not the absence of action. Peace is the negation of violence.

To me, this quote illustrates the difference between pacifism and non-violence. I like to think of pacifism as "Don't start none, won't be none" whereas nonviolence is "Even if you start something, there won't be anything; I'll just roll over and take it." Such extremes of philosophy might be a perfectly valid choice for you, but it is a core of my beliefs that no one has the right to make that choice for anyone else.

There are people who love me and who depend on me, and nobody has the  right to take me away from them.

That's why this Christian carries a gun.

Kreuzige Ihn!

WNW: The Gothpel

It may not be readily apparent, but Christianity can be incredibly goth. After all:

1. Its chief symbol is an instrument of torture.
   
2. The Sacrament of Communion is ritualized, symbolic Theophagy.
   
3. Priests and Nuns wear black and white. That is old school goth, baby.
   
4. Speaking of colors, look at the colors of the church year: Dark Blue. Red. Purple. Black.
5. In fact, the entire season of Lent is one big ol' goth party. It starts with people wearing ash on their foreheads and ends with the death of God.
6. The entire first half of the Book of Revelations is basically about all the cool people being feared, misunderstood and oppressed by The Man because of their religion, followed by persecution and death. But that's okay, because not long after that, all those people in power die hideously, and are tormented forever.
   
7. This is the religion that invented self-flagellation... because cutting is for poseurs.
   

Seriously, if there isn't a "Goths for Christ" movement, someone should start one. You can practically perform the Mass to E Nomine's Das Testament already.



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Now playing: E Nomine - Vater Unser
via FoxyTunes

Go Ask Eris

Sometimes my family asks me, "Erin, you talk about writing this blog but you never let us know where it is or what it's about. Why is that?" and I reply, "I'm taking a shower, dammit! Can't I get any privacy when I'm in the bathroom?" In the civilized world, going into the bathroom is cause for, oh I don't know, a pause in the daily interrogation that is family life. But at Chez Palette, it simply means one must talk that much louder so as to be heard through the door and over the sound of flushing toilets.

However, they do ask a valid question, and the answer is wickedly simple: if they knew the kind of shit I talked about, I'd never ever hear the end of it. But by keeping the details to myself, I am free to talk all kinds of smack about my metrosexual brother and crazy cat-lady sister. Not to mention that business with the shaved goat. Mostly, though, it's for my own sanity. If I had to defend every assertion I made on this blog, I'd snap like a wheat thin and then there'd be delicious multi-grain carnage all over the place.

Case in point: Eris. You see, my sister is one of those nigh-fanatical Christians who wields church doctrine like a bludgeoning weapon, and I really don't feel like having to justify to her why I am apparently involved in some kind of "heathen-pagan witchcraft cult thing".

(Fun fact: certain radical Protestant sects, who will remain nameless, are fond of describing anything they don't care to understand as witchcraft. It doesn't even have to be occultic; I was once told, in complete earnestness, that "rebelling against God's will is witchcraft." It's rather a blanket term, much like sin. Oh, wait, it's exactly like sin, it just sounds punchier. So if they don't get it, if it doesn't fit neatly into doctrine, it must be sinful and therefore evil and occult.)

Sorry, I seem to have spilled a little digression on you. Beg your pardon. Where was I? Right, Eris. Essentially, I started praying to Eris because quite frankly I got tired of being ignored.

I'm pretty sure this is the point where both the Christians and the Atheists go "Awww" in disappointment, the former because I've turned away from the One True Way and the latter because I've failed to be swayed by the rational and taken a joke religion as literal truth.

As I'm fond of saying to my family: Get used to disappointment.

When I was very little, a family friend asked me the typical adult-to-small-child question, What do you want to be when you grow up? My response was incredibly straightforward: I want to be an Erin!

I want to be an Erin when I grow up.

Isn't that a great answer? I love it. Such a wonderful sense of nonconformist self-identity I had back then, and I've tried my best to hang on to it. Which is why it baffles me so that it takes people by surprise when I demonstrate that I'm my own person. Look, just because I'm inherently conservative in a lot of things doesn't mean that I fall into lockstep with Traditional Republican Values. I can be both a goth and a conservative (we tend toward the Victorian end of the fashion spectrum). I can like guns and frilly dresses. I can believe in God and pray to Eris.

But why, Erin? Why pray to a goddess you don't believe exists?

Because I got tired of being ignored or told "no" whenever I prayed to God.

No, really, it's that simple. Let's say that every day, you ask me out on a date, and every day, I say "no" or ignore you entirely. How long will it take before you give up? Granted, it may take years for more of you stubborn folks, but I guarantee that eventually you'd all stop trying, either because you realized that I wouldn't change my answer or because you found someone better.

Now, I'm just too inherently mystical/spiritual/ooky to stop believing in higher powers altogether, so the Atheist road isn't for me. (And honestly -- no offense to you guys, but I feel you ultra-rational folks miss out on a lot of the really cool and artistic parts of the human soul.) And I'm sure it's an artifact of my cultural upbringing, but even though I'm convinced God really doesn't care about me I can't really bring myself to believe in other religions.

So I find a third option, and pray to something nonexistent. This fulfills my need for spirituality and keeps me from disappointment, because I bloody well know Eris won't answer my prayers. She doesn't answer, she doesn't care, she doesn't even exist! See, problem solved.

Then why are you into Discordianism in the first place, if you know Eris isn't real?

Because not existing isn't a barrier for worthy emulation. Santa Claus isn't real either, but people pretend to be him at Christmastime, and isn't the holiday a better time for it? Superman isn't real, but embodies all that good and decent about humanity. If you were to live your life according to "What Superman Would Do," you'd be a sterling example of humanity.

I like Eris because she keeps me from getting too serious about this ridiculous game we call life. I like Discordianism because it helps me keep my OCD tendencies in check. I like its philosophy because it is absurd the way life is absurd, and it's really the only worldview that has helped me cope with modern life.

What Would Eris Do?

She'd be an Erin when she grew up, that's what she'd do.

Pax vobiscum

This post touches on Discordianism, but there will be no silliness today. Today is Good Friday and I will show it respect.

I'm honestly not sure if I should write today, because I feel burdened to write something about my beliefs, yet I also have no desire to make the beliefs of others seem trivial. So if I cause offense, dear ones, please forgive me, as it's certainly not intended.

I grew up in a Protestant Christian household. Every day, at breakfast, my mother would read aloud a passage from the Bible, followed by a mini-essay from a daily devotional. I think the Bible is a rich source of history, case studies in ethics, and literary symbolism. For the better part of a year I studied the Book of Revelations just because it contains some of the most potent written imagery I have ever experienced.

I am deeply shamed by all the sin and crimes that are committed daily in Jesus' name, but I am also aware that these are the results of human baggage and selective interpretation of the scripture. I believe that Christ's teachings are universal. Love, acceptance, tolerance, forgiveness, piety, charity; the world would be a better place if we all practiced these things, whatever our religions might be.

I believe in Christian values...

... but I don't know if I have faith any more.

Is it possible to be a Christian without believing in God? To practice the morality without the faith? Is there such a thing as a Deistic Christian Philosopher?

I'm so horribly tempted to end this with a "Hail Eris," but that would be flippant and sacrilegious. It would, however, perfectly illustrate my current confused emotional state. A philosopher, you see, can entertain two or more different philosophies in her head. But religions tend to be exclusive things.

I love Christianity. But I don't think I can have faith in it any more. It's become a philosophy to me. Discordianism is a philosophy, too, but it's something that I can have faith in... I'm just not sure if I should.

I'm not sure what I believe,
So I believe I'll have a drink.

I'm going to Hell... who's coming with me?

There are three topics forbidden to polite conversation: Religion, Politics, and Sex.

I don't like to talk about religion because it is an intensely personal and intimate subject to me. I honestly don't care who, what or how you worship, as long as:

1. You give me the freedom to worship (or not) as I see fit;
2. It doesn't involve harming animals, children, or non-consenting adults;
3. You don't immediately assume I am evil/wrong/broken for not sharing the same views.

I don't like talking about politics because it seems to automatically engender reaction #3. I also view politics with heaping disdain because it seems to be High School all over again, albeit writ large: getting elected, whether to Student Council or Congress, is largely a popularity contest based upon how good you look and the sincerity of your lies, not your strength of character or knowledge of the facts. Thus I regard politicians as garbage collectors -- their purpose is to do a job I find loathsome, and once elected I'd like them to do their jobs quietly and efficiently. If they don't dispose of my garbage in a professional manner, I fire them.

This leaves sex. As some of you may have deduced, I quite like talking about sex, and am very hard to shock. However, in deference to the delicate constitutions of some readers, as well as adhering to Blogger's Terms of Service, I prefer to use clever euphemisms and double entendres rather than outright vulgarity. (Plus, any fool can write porn. Erotica is much more challenging.)

Today, however, I'm going to end up breaking my own rules and talking about all three of them. It's not a choice I'm particularly comfortable with, but Calliope is a fickle bitch today and so it's either this or printing the word "fuck" a thousand times.

Aren't you lucky?

My father is Jewish. So Jewish, in fact, that he was born in Austria in the 1930s, and had to flee a little thing called the Holocaust. Now even though he married a non-Jewish woman (aka shiksa), I still look very semitic. I have dark hair, dark eyes, and distinctive nose that is too large to be properly adorable. This doesn't bother me (other than the nose); in fact, I am very proud of my heritage. However, I am sick and tired of being hated for what is essentially an accident of my birth. Because, as you may have heard, Jews are apparently to blame for everything in the world.

My mother is Protestant Irish. God help me if I lived in the United Kingdom. I'd be labeled as a potential terrorist, a British sympathizer, or a worthless layabout, depending on where I was. Again, whether or not I truly am one of those things doesn't matter; it only matters if I look like I am.

You will notice that I never had control over any of those things. Yet whole countries and entire cultures would have me jailed, beaten, raped, and/or killed because of them. Hatred, I believe, is the bastard child of politics and religion, usually caused by people who aren't getting enough sex. Sometimes I think that if world leaders had daily blowjobs the world would be a more relaxed place to live.

I know what it is to be hated, which is why I'm generally conservative. Republicans are pro-military, and I like a big military, because they protect my way of life. I am very much in favor of not being beaten to death because of my heritage.

Now, I said all that just so I could say this: Because I know what it's like to be hated because of circumstances of birth, I stand firmly beside my gay brothers and lesbian sisters and those in-between. And if they're going to Hell because they were born gay, then I guess I'm going to Hell because of the accidents of my birth. I mean, a good quarter of the world thinks I belong there anyway, right?

I'm a goth. I have a tattoo. (No, I'm not going to show you pictures.) I like to wear black and dance to strange music. This means I'm damned to Hell because apparently I'm a Satanist, I mutilate my God-given body, and my every waking moment isn't spent praising Jesus.

Except: I go to a Methodist church with my parents on Sundays. I pray on a regular basis. My tattoo has a cross in it. Heck, I even spent a few years teaching Sunday School.

Yes, I am a pro-gay rights conservative Christian goth. Is your mind broken yet?

If you're going to hate me for anything, hate me for that. Because those are things that I have chosen, and I am damn proud of all of them.