Dickie Dawkins

Prof Dawkins said he wanted to look at the effects of "bringing children up to believe in spells and wizards".

"I think it is anti-scientific – whether that has a pernicious effect, I don't know," he told More4 News.

"I think looking back to my own childhood, the fact that so many of the stories I read allowed the possibility of frogs turning into princes, whether that has a sort of insidious affect on rationality, I'm not sure. Perhaps it's something for research."

There was a boy called Dickie Dawkins, and he almost deserved it. His parents called him Clinton Richard Dawkins and masters called him Dawkins. I can't tell you how his friends spoke to him, for he had none. He didn't call his Father and Mother "Father" and "Mother", but Clinton John Dawkins and Jean Mary Vyvyan Dawkins (née Ladner). They were very up-to-date and advanced people. They were vegetarians, non-smokers and teetotallers and wore a special kind of underclothes. In their house there was very little furniture and very few clothes on beds and the windows were always open.

Dickie Dawkins liked animals, especially beetles, if they were dead and pinned on a card. He liked books if they were books of information and had pictures of grain elevators or of fat foreign children doing exercises in model schools.

Dickie Dawkins disliked his cousins the four Pevensies, Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy. But he was quite glad when he heard that Edmund and Lucy were coming to stay. For deep down inside him he liked bossing and bullying; and, though he was a puny little person who couldn't have stood up even to Lucy, let alone Edmund, in a fight, he knew that there are dozens of ways to give people a bad time if you are in your own home and they are only visitors.

Zombie Apocalypse

Today is the day after the end of the world as we know it. But I’m getting ahead of myself. 

This all got started some 25 years ago. Little Damian was a covenant child, where his parents attended Oceanside URC.

Little Damian was a precocious child who could recite the Three Forms of Unity in Latin from memory by the age of 4. Pastor Clark had high hopes that someday Damian would become a great historical theologian.

But under the surface, all was not well. You see, little Damian’s mom and dad were secret Santaists. That’s right. Every Christmas Eve, when Damian was but a boy, they made the annual oblation of milk and cookies.

So sweet, trusting little Damian was raised to believe in Father Christmas. But being a precocious boy, the logistical challenges of how a handful of elves in the North Pole could manufacture the requisite number of toys and candy canes–not to mention how a single sleigh, drawn by flying reindeer, could visit every house on earth in just one evening, began to overtax his childish credulity.

At first he resisted with all his tender might. But he couldn’t help suspecting the unspeakable truth: his parents were fibbing! And once the disillusionment set in, it began to spread like gangrene.

If they lied to him about Santa, why weren’t they lying about Jesus and the resurrection? Why weren’t they? After all, he had never seen Jesus. Damian only had a book, a story, and a storyteller. Who could blame him for doubting? If Santa doesn’t really fly through the air then perhaps Jesus didn’t ascend? If Santa didn’t really eat the cookies, then perhaps communion is just a thing we do; it doesn’t really mean anything? In its own way, the Santa myth told him that this really is a closed universe, that there isn’t really any such thing as transcendent reality. Losing faith in his parents was a potent recipe for rampant, virulent misanthropy.

However, except for a rash of missing neighborhood cats, everything seemed to be outwardly normal. Damian was a straight-A student in grade school and middle school. Graduated valedictorian in high school. Full scholarship to MIT, where he earned a doctorate in bioengineering–followed by a stint at the CDC.

It was there that he developed a retrovirus which mutated human beings into man-eating zombies–culminating in the zombie apocalypse. All because his parents were secret Santaists.

I’m tempted to say, let that be a warning to you–except for the fact that there’s no one left on earth to warn. Sigh!

Pernicious, insidious fairy tales

On the one hand:

Scott Clark:

At some point we learned that the Santa faith isn’t really a true faith at all. It was a complex hoax, a conspiracy even. Santa can’t live your heart if he doesn’t really live at the North Pole. At that moment, in a small but sometimes painful way, we learn that people lie. The pain of the truth is buffered by presents and Christmas cheer but things are never the same. We become just a little bit cynical, perhaps for the first time.

We decided not to tell our children that there was a Santa because we did not want our children to suspect that we were liars. If we lied to them about Santa, why weren’t we lying about Jesus and the resurrection? Why weren’t we? After all, they had never seen Jesus. They only had a book, a story, and a storyteller. Who can blame them for doubting? If Santa doesn’t really fly through the air then perhaps Jesus didn’t ascend? If Santa didn’t really eat the cookies, then perhaps communion is just a thing we do; it doesn’t really mean anything?

http://heidelblog.wordpress.com/2010/12/19/death-of-santa/

On the other hand:

Richard Dawkins:

"I haven't read Harry Potter, I have read Pullman who is the other leading children's author that one might mention and I love his books. I don't know what to think about magic and fairy tales."

Prof Dawkins said he wanted to look at the effects of "bringing children up to believe in spells and wizards".

"I think it is anti-scientific – whether that has a pernicious effect, I don't know," he told More4 News.

"I think looking back to my own childhood, the fact that so many of the stories I read allowed the possibility of frogs turning into princes, whether that has a sort of insidious affect on rationality, I'm not sure. Perhaps it's something for research."

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/3255972/Harry-Potter-fails-to-cast-spell-over-Professor-Richard-Dawkins.html

"The Death of Santa"

I’m going to comment on a post by Scott Clark. Let me say at the outset that I have no firm opinion one way or the other about raising kids on the Santa myth. If some Christians don’t go in for that, I won’t take issue with their decision. I’m mainly interested in Clark’s reasoning.

It wasn’t because we didn’t have much money for presents (we didn’t). We told our children that the man in the red suit was the “Christmas clown” (thank you Vern Pollema) on the premise that, while pretending is fun and necessary, the Santa story isn’t quite the same thing. When we were reading pretend stories to our children they knew the convention, that we were making up stories and that we were temporarily entering into a make-believe world, that we were exercising our imaginations about possible worlds. That’s why make-believe stories begin with conventional lines such as “Once upon a time….” This language is a verbal wink. It signals to the participants: “please place your tray in an upright and locked position, turn off your cell phones, and stow your carry-on bag. The flight is taking off.”

http://heidelblog.wordpress.com/2010/12/19/death-of-santa/

I agree with Clark that kids can normally tell the difference between fantasy and reality. But it’s an interesting question how they can tell. To begin with, do most young kids consciously recognize literary conventions like “once upon a time” as fictional cues?

Likewise, lots of kid’s stories don’t begin with fictional cues. Take the opening lines of The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe:

Once there were four children whose names were Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy. This story is about something that happened to them when they were sent away from London during the war because if the air-raids.

Is that obviously fictitious to a young reader?

To take another example, I watched Bugs Bunny as a little boy. I knew it was fictitious, but not because someone told me “that we were temporarily entering into a make-believe world, that we were exercising our imaginations about possible worlds.”

Also, I don’t know if even if the late David Lewis thought there was a possible world where Bugs Bunny is a real person.

Or, to take yet another example, consider all those spooky campfire stories about the bogeyman (and analogous tales) that have no other function than giving kids a good scare. No doubt there are feminists who object to “traumatizing” kids with tall tales about things that go bump in the night. Should Christians raise boys in a “safe” environment that protects them from campfire stories?

In the Santa faith, however, there is no such convention. The story is told earnestly and even passionately. Expressions of doubt are met with rebuke and exhortation. Evidence is presented and a defense of the faith is offered. The cookies and milk are gone in the morning. New presents appear. There are other rituals.

I think Clark is overextrapolating from his personal experience. My parents raised me in the Santa myth, too, but they certainly didn’t get that carried away with the hoax.

Moreover, it’s not necessarily a case of indoctrinating your kids in the Santa myth. That’s something they will pick up whether or not you, as a parent, indoctrinate your own kids in the Santa myth.

So often it’s less a question of whether you should indoctrinate them in the Santa myth, or whether you should simply play along with the cultural osmosis, or, conversely, whether you should actively disabuse them of the Santa myth.

That’s just it. At some point we learned that the Santa faith isn’t really a true faith at all. It was a complex hoax, a conspiracy even. Santa can’t live your heart if he doesn’t really live at the North Pole. At that moment, in a small but sometimes painful way, we learn that people lie. The pain of the truth is buffered by presents and Christmas cheer but things are never the same. We become just a little bit cynical, perhaps for the first time.

We decided not to tell our children that there was a Santa because we did not want our children to suspect that we were liars. If we lied to them about Santa, why weren’t we lying about Jesus and the resurrection? Why weren’t we? After all, they had never seen Jesus. They only had a book, a story, and a storyteller. Who can blame them for doubting? If Santa doesn’t really fly through the air then perhaps Jesus didn’t ascend? If Santa didn’t really eat the cookies, then perhaps communion is just a thing we do; it doesn’t really mean anything?

In its own way, the Santa myth tells children (and grown-ups) that this really is a closed universe, that there isn’t really any such thing as transcendent reality, that Christmas is really about being nice to one another and thus so is Christianity. Perhaps modern people believe so easily in the “death of God” because they learned a long time ago in the death of Santa?

Here is where Clark gets to the heart of his thesis, and not coincidentally, where his reasoning goes more seriously awry:

i) To begin with, that's a popular argument in militant village atheism. Belief in Jesus is no different than belief in Santa. Does Clark really think there’s anything close to evidential parity between the Santa myth and the Christ-Event?

ii) Should we believe in Jesus just because our parents did? Is that the only reason? Can’t we do better than that?

iii) Should children vest unquestioning faith in whatever grown-ups tell them? What if your father is Richard Dawkins or the Grand Ayatollah of Iran?

iv) On a related note, Clark is a proponent of 2-kingdoms statecraft. So he presumably doesn’t think we should abolish the public school system. He presumably doesn’t think Christian parents have a duty to either homeschool their kids or send them to private Christian schools.

But if we’re going to send our kids to public school, then wouldn’t it behoove them to cultivate a degree of scepticism in what adults may be teaching them?

v) As long as we’re speaking anecdotally, I can say with some confidence that when I lost my childish faith in Santa, I didn’t become disillusioned in my parents. I can say that because I don’t even remember the transition. I just know that at a very early age I believed in Santa, while at a somewhat later age I didn’t. It happened unconsciously.

Looking back on my short-lived, childish faith in Santa, I don’t hold that against my parents. To the contrary, they did it because they loved me, and they thought that was something little kids enjoy. Which I did–at the time.

vi) Sometimes fiction is equivalent to lying, but oftentimes it isn’t. And even if we say it’s equivalent to lying, “lying” is a loaded word which carries moral connotations that aren’t always suitable to the occasion.

Take certain pranks and practical jokes that young men are sometimes prone to play on one another. These may involve a temporary element of deception. The payoff comes when it finally dawns on the butt of the joke that this is staged. At that point he may find it hilarious. But what makes it hilarious is the build-up, when he still he thinks this is for real.

On a related note, I’m reminded of a show I saw as a kid: Candid Camera. Is that equivalent to “lying”? If so, is that particular brand of “lying” immoral?

Or take movies. Yes, I know that when I watch a movie, this is illusory. Yet therein lies a certain paradox. For many films go out of their way to create a realistic illusion. To have realistic dialogue. Realistic acting. Realistic sets. Realistic stunts.

We judge an actor by how real he seems, and how well he can make us feel what he is projecting.

vii) From what I’ve read, Clark’s psychological theory is false. Indeed, ironically enough, Richard Dawkins is opposed to Santa Claus and other fairy tales because he fears this sort of thing predisposes impressionable young minds to also believe the Bible. If it were up to Dawkins, he’d ban fairy tales–not because he fears it will spur a “the death of God” movement, but just the opposite:

Magic-talk gets under the skin of many, like renowned scientist and atheist Richard Dawkins. This is doubly so when it is what the Christ-figure Aslan, in C.S. Lewis's "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe," calls "the deeper magic," an allusion to divinity. Mr. Dawkins is reportedly writing a book examining the pernicious tendency of fantasy tales to promote "anti-scientific" thinking among children. He suspects that such stories lay the groundwork for religious faith, the inculcation of which, he claims, is a worse form of child abuse than sexual molestation.

I suspect that fairy tales and Santa Claus do prepare us to embrace the ultimate Fairy Tale, the one Lewis believed was ingrained in our being. New research from the Université de Montréal and the University of Ottawa indicates that children aren't overly troubled upon learning that Santa is a myth. But the researchers remained puzzled because while children eventually abandon Santa, they keep believing in God. Lewis would say this is because God is real, but Mr. Dawkins fears it is the lasting damage of fairy tales. While Mr. Dawkins stands ironically alongside Puritans in his readiness to ban fairy tales, Christian apologists like Lewis and Chesterton embraced them, precisely because to embrace Christian dogma is to embrace the extrarational.

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB122963990662019887.html

The Christmas wars

I’m going to briefly review some stock objections to Christmas:

1. The Constitutional objection:

According to this objection, a national Christmas holiday, as well as other official celebrations of Christmas (and Christianity), violates the Constitutional separation of church and state.

To my knowledge, that’s revisionist propaganda. To my knowledge, this is the original intent of the Establishment Clause:

Some of the Colonies had established churches. When the Colonies contemplated the prospect of confederated in a union of states, under a Federal gov’t, this raised the issue of whether they would lose their religious autonomy. Instead of several established churches, at the discretion of individual states, would a single national church be imposed on the country at large?

The point of the Establishment Clause, as I understand it, was to preserve the religious status quo ante. States could still disestablish their churches if that saw fit, but that was not a Constitutional mandate. Just the opposite.

The notion that our gov’t can’t sponsor or favor Christianity is, at best, a circular appeal to recent judicial precedent. And judicial precedent is reversible.

This is a separate question from whether or not it’s a good idea for gov’t to sponsor or favor Christianity. I’m just making the point that that’s Constitutionally permissible–liberal propaganda notwithstanding.

2. The Genetic objection

To take one example:

Jehovah’s Witnesses are not allowed to celebrate Christmas, birthdays, Easter, Thanksgiving, or any other holidays, claiming they all have pagan roots.

http://www.towerwatch.com/Witnesses/Beliefs/their_beliefs.htm

But there are two problems with this objection:

i) To my knowledge, the claim that Christmas co-opted a pagan festival is historically dubious. I’ve quoted Roger Beckwith on that issue.

ii) Even if the claim were historically sound, this commits the genetic fallacy. The meaning of a holiday depends on the meaning which God, the culture, or the celebrant assigns to the holiday.

Likewise, the meaning of a religious rite or holiday can be reassigned. Take circumcision. Circumcision antedated the Jewish rite. God co-opted a preexisting custom, and reassigned to circumcision a meaning distinctive to in-group (i.e. the covenant community). It meant what God intended it to mean for his people. It meant what the celebrants intended it to mean, when they performed the rite.

In the nature of the case, the significance of a symbolic observance is fluid. Take another example: Protestants continue to observe the Eucharist. This is something we inherited from the Latin church. But this doesn’t mean we continue to assign the same meaning to the Eucharist that Roman Catholics do. Presbyterians and Baptists (to take two examples) have reassigned to communion a different meaning than the hereditary meaning which the Latin church assigns to communion. Presbyterians and Baptists have reverted to what they deem to be the NT meaning of communion.

Even though there’s a sense in which we took over the rites of baptism and communion from the church of Rome, we didn’t feel committed to honor the meaning which Roman Catholic theology assigns to those observances.

3. The Calendrical objection

According to this objection, Jesus wasn’t born on December 25. He wasn’t even born in winter.

There are two problems with this objection:

i) It’s historically dubious. As Dan Wallace explains:

The tradition for December 25th is actually quite ancient. Hippolytus, in the second century A.D., argued that this was Christ's birthday. Meanwhile, in the eastern Church, January 6th was the date followed.

But in the fourth century, John Chrysostom argued that December 25th was the correct date and from that day till now, the Church in the East, as well as the West, has observed the 25th of December as the official date of Christ's birth.

In modern times, the traditional date has been challenged. Modern scholars point out that when Jesus was born, shepherds were watching their sheep in the hills around Bethlehem. Luke tells us that an angel appeared to "some shepherds staying out in the fields [who were] keeping watch over their flock by night" (2:8).

Some scholars feel that the sheep were usually brought under cover from November to March; as well, they were not normally in the field at night. But there is no hard evidence for this. In fact, early Jewish sources suggest that the sheep around Bethlehem were outside year-round. So you can see, December 25th fits both tradition and the biblical narrative well. There is no sound objection to it.

Now admittedly, the sheep around Bethlehem were the exception, not the rule. But these were no ordinary sheep. They were sacrificial lambs. In the early spring they would be slaughtered at the Passover.

And God first revealed the Messiah's birth to these shepherds--shepherds who protected harmless lambs which would soon die on behalf of sinful men. Whey they saw the baby, could they have known? Might they have whispered in their hearts what John the Baptist later thundered, "Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!"

Now, of course, we can't be absolutely certain of the day of Christ's birth. At least, not this side of heaven. But an early winter date seems as reasonable a guess as any. And December 25th has been the frontrunner for eighteen centuries. Without more evidence, there seems no good reason to change the celebration date now.

http://bible.org/article/birth-jesus-christ

ii) More to the point, the objection is irrelevant. It misconceives the nature of a holiday. The date of a holiday is often conventional. For once again, the significance of any given holiday is symbolic. Being symbolic, it doesn’t matter when, exactly, the holiday is observed. For the meaning of the symbolism is culturally assigned.

iii) Indeed, the objection proves too much. Take Sunday worship. Christians traditionally worship on Sunday to commemorate the Resurrection.

However, this is customary rather than original. It’s not as if Sunday on the Gregorian calendar directly correlates with Sunday on the Julian calendar. It’s not as if you can start from Sunday on 12/26/10, then count back by intervals of 7 to arrive at the day when Jesus rose from the grave.

Likewise, Sunday doesn’t have the same significance on our calendar that it had to 1C Jews. Jesus rose on the “first day of the week.” But Sunday isn’t the first day of the week on the modern calendar. Monday is.

Yet that’s irrelevant since we’re dealing with symbolism. The emblematic significance of Sunday–not the historical significance of Sunday.

4. The Puritan objection

On this view, it is wrong to observe any (religious) holiday that isn’t commanded in Scripture.

But there are two problems with that objection:

i) This generates a false dichotomy, for there are three categories, not two: what is (a) commanded; (b) forbidden, or (c) permitted.

Put another way, the Reformed tradition (to take one example) has a category of adiaphora. Not every action is either commanded or forbidden. Some actions are permitted in the absence of a prohibition to the contrary.

So it’s fallacious to suppose that if something is not commanded, then the default assumption is that it must be forbidden. For what is proscribed is not the logical alternative to is not prescribed.

Of course, it would still be the case that Christmas is wrong. But you can’t validly infer that from the silence of Scripture. You need to mount a positive argument.

ii) In addition, the objection proves too much. For instance, the Puritans observed Sunday worship. Yet that lacks express warrant in Scripture. There’s no NT command to worship once a week on Sunday.

At best, that is merely consistent with some incidental statements regarding the practice of the NT church. But weekly Sunday worship is not a NT command. Not even by logical implication.

Likewise, Reformed pastors traditionally officiate at the Lord’s Supper. But, once again, that lacks express warrant in Scripture. At most, that is fitting or congruent with NT ecclesiology. But it’s not a command.

5. The “Baptist” objection

Some Baptists, as a matter of principle, accentuate separation of church and state. They object to nationalizing Christian holidays. Some of them also object to politicizing these issues. They object to the culture wars generally.

They think we should focus all our efforts on the spiritual side of things. On evangelizing the lost.

But I’ll just touch on one of the problems with that attitude: atheism is intolerant of Christianity. Militant atheism doesn’t approve of Christian homeschooling or Christian private schooling. It doesn’t approve of Christian “hate speech.”

If it had it’s way, militant atheism would require all children, including Christian children, to attend public school, where they would be coercively indoctrinated in secular values.

Peaceful coexistence between Christianity and atheism is not a live option. While many Christians take a live-and-let-live attitude, militant atheism vies for cultural supremacy. A totalitarian secular state.

6. The Commercial objection

Many Christians lament the commercialization, trivialization, and secularization of Christmas.

Up to a point, that objection is valid. However, in any culture where believers and unbelievers rub shoulders, Christian holidays will be abused by some members of society. So what?

Look at what unbelievers have done to Sunday? Does this mean we should cease to worship on Sunday?

7. The Politically Correct objection

Some unbelievers find Christian holidays offensive.

However, the important question is not whether somebody finds something offensive, but whether he’s entitled to be offended. If his has no right to be offended, then he has no right to impose his irrational scruples on the rest of us.

Of course, there are situations in which we may sometimes accommodate another party’s irrational scruples. But if we did that all the time, our lives would be dictated by our enemies. We could no longer practice our God-given faith.

8. The Ethical objection

Some Christians object to “lying” to their kids about Santa Claus.

But there are several problems with this objection:

i) Christmas is a bundle of customs. Christian parents are free to observe as much or as little of the Christmas season as they wish. If it comes to that, you can celebrate Christmas without the pop Santa Claus mythology. You can have a crèche without reindeer.

ii) Children have a vivid imagination. Play-acting comes naturally to little kids.

To accuse parents of “lying” to their children is pretty silly, since it fails to take into account the element of fantasy that is part and parcel of a young child’s mental life and cognitive development. This is harmless fun. It’s no more deceptive than reading bedtime stories to your kids.

iii) In addition, the objection can backfire. Wise parents pick their battles. Many parents have alienated their children from the Christian faith by being overly restrictive.

In my opinion, Christmas is a point of Christian liberty. We can take it or leave it. I think Christmas is permissible, but not obligatory. Participation ought to be voluntary.

Christmas can be edifying for Christians and their children. And it can also be a witness to the lost.

Christmas & Calvinism

There are some Calvinists who object to Christmas on traditionally Puritan grounds. From that standpoint I’m going to quote from an overview of Christmas in relation to historical Reformed theology, which was originally published by Prof. David Engelsma, in the 1994-95 issues of the Standard Bearer. This is for the benefit of some Calvinists who may labor under the misimpression that Christmas represents a break with Reformed tradition.

Keep in mind that, as Protestants, Reformed traditions are entitled to no greater instinctual deference than any other theological tradition. If we take sola Scriptura to heart, then all theological traditions have to pass Biblical muster–in terms of whatever the Bible teaches, commands, permits, or forbids.

The Protestant Reformed Churches' practice of observing Christmas is a long and honorable tradition in the Reformed Churches that trace their spiritual descent to the Synod of Dordt. Article 67 of the venerable Church Order of Dordt (1618/1619) requires that the Reformed churches "shall observe in addition to the Sunday also Christmas...."

This observance consists of a public worship service on December 25. The elements of this service are the same as those that make up the congregation's worship on the Sabbath. The minister preaches on some aspect of the birth of Christ, usually, and preferably, the history in the gospels. The congregation hears the blessed gospel of the incarnation and praises God with appropriate psalms in congregational singing.

Objection against Dordt in this provision and practice is invariably in terms of the "regulative principle" of worship: observance of Christmas is not prescribed in Scripture.

But this is a misunderstanding of the "regulative principle." This is evident from the fact that Dordt permitted, indeed prescribed, observance of Christmas even though the great Reformed synod was committed to the "regulative principle" as laid down in Question 96 of the Heidelberg Catechism. Dordt saw no conflict between the requirement of the second commandment that we worship God only in the "way ... He has commanded in His Word" and the observance of Christmas at a Reformed worship service. The fathers of Dordt saw no conflict because there is none.

The "regulative principle" requires that the elements of public worship–the "how" of worship–prescribes in His Word, whether the public worship be on the Lord's Day or on some special occasion. The "regulative principle" certainly does not forbid the church ever to gather for worship on another day than Sunday or on another occasion than the regular remembrance of Christ's resurrection on the first day of the week.

The Heidelberg Catechism explains the fourth commandment as requiring that "I, especially on the sabbath diligently frequent the church of God." The Catechism does not say, "exclusively on the sabbath."

The Westminster Assembly likewise allowed for the observance of days of public fasting and of public thanksgiving in addition to the observance of the sabbath (see "The Directory for the Public Worship of God").

Calvin looked askance at the celebration of Christmas in his day because of the corrupting of that celebration by Roman Catholicism (see I. VanDellen and M. Monsma, The Church Order Commentary, Zondervan, 1941, p. 273).

He did not, however, flatly forbid it as a transgression of the second commandment. As I noted in my review of Wulfert de Greef's The Writings of John Calvin: An Introductory Guide (Baker, 1993), Calvin went along with the Geneva church's observance of the four great feast days that did not fall on a Sunday, including Christmas. When the Council decided to abolish these observances, Calvin wrote a correspondent that, if he had been asked for advice, he would not have supported this decision (see de Greef, The Writings of John Calvin, p. 57; my review of this book appeared in the September 29, 1994 issue of the Standard Bearer).

This is the kind of wisdom that we defenders of the "regulative principle" must demonstrate in our application of the principle, lest we fall into a rigid, stifling (and divisive) legalism and, thus, imperil the principle itself.

The term "Christmas," according to Webster's Ninth New Collegiate Dictionary, derives from a word meaning "Christ's mass." From this, nothing follows concerning use of the word by the true church. According to Baker's Dictionary of Christian Ethics (ed. Carl F. H. Henry, Baker, 1973), the word "Sunday" is "derived from pagan sources and denotes the day devoted to the sun" (p. 653). This does not rule out Christians meeting for worship on this day or using the word to refer to the day on which they engage in public worship.

There is no basis in Scripture for the Reformed churches' commemoration of Christ's birth on December 25.Neither is there basis in Scripture for their observing a Day of Prayer on the second Wednesday of March annually. Nor is there such basis in Scripture for services of public worship in observance of "notable judgments," "some special blessing," and "days of public thanksgiving," as allowed by the Westminster Assembly's "Directory for the Public Worship of God" and as actually held by Presbyterian churches in the Scottish tradition.

The Reformed and Presbyterian churches have the liberty to observe these special occasions by worship services on other days than the Lord's Day. This is really our liberty. It is our liberty in Christ Jesus. The Belgic Confession asserts this liberty in general terms: "it is useful and beneficial that those who are rulers of the church institute and establish certain ordinances among themselves for maintaining the body of the church" (Art 32). The Second Helvetic Confession of 1566, in its day a Reformation creed of standing, distribution, and influence, expresses this liberty in specific terms:

Moreover, if in Christian liberty the churches religiously celebrate the memory of the Lord's nativity, circumcision, passion, resurrection, and the ascension into heaven, and the sending of the Holy Spirit upon the disciples, we approve of it highly (Chapter 24, in Reformed Confessions of the 16th Century, ed. Arthur C. Cochrane, Westminster, 1966).

That which churches maintaining the "regulative principle" do not have liberty to do is to introduce into the worship service itself, whether on the Lord's Day or on a special occasion, any other element of worship besides those commanded by Scripture. As the Heidelberg Catechism explains, God requires in the second commandment that we not worship Him "in any other way than He has commanded in His Word" (Q. 96).

The "regulative principle" of public worship does not care on what day, in addition to Sunday, the church may gather for public worship, or that the occasion may be celebrating the birth of Christ or some notable judgment. The concern of the "regulative principle" is that when the church does gather for worship she worships God only as He has commanded in His Word; using the sacraments; publicly calling upon the Lord (which includes congregational singing of the Psalms); contributing to the relief of the poor; and doing all in spirit and in truth (see Heid. Cat., Q. 103; John 4:24).

The Reformed churches that stand in the tradition of Dordt do not accuse, and never have accused, their Presbyterian brothers and sisters who stand in the tradition of Westminster of any wrong-doing as regards their worship. It is perfectly alright in our judgment that the Scottish Presbyterians do not observe Christmas by a public worship service on December 25, or any other date.

We make no effort to bind their consciences.

When, on the other hand, our Presbyterian brothers and sisters accuse the Reformed churches standing in the tradition of Dordt of transgressing the second commandment, because they do observe Christmas, we warn them, "Beware, lest in applying the good principle you 'fall into a rigid, stifling (and divisive) legalism, and, thus, imperil the principle itself.'" This was, and is, my warning, not to those who choose not to observe Christmas, but to those who are inclined to charge Article 67 of the Church Order of Dordt, and the Reformed believers adhering to it, with violation of the second commandment.

Should Christians Be Less Concerned About The Dechristianizing Of Christmas?

James McGrath recently wrote an article about the dechristianizing of Christmas. John Loftus linked the article, and I've commented on it in the thread at Debunking Christianity.

Even if some Christians mishandle an issue like saying "merry Christmas" rather than "happy holidays", I do think the general trend toward dechristianizing the holiday is significant and should be opposed. It's about much more than things like what a store clerk says to you during the Christmas season. People like McGrath and Loftus wouldn't stop there. Their disagreements with traditional Christianity go much deeper.

The story of Jesus

A good resource.

The brain-pickers

Jeff Bender was a psychic P.I. Technically, Jeff’s profession was illegal. Classified as a class B felony, colloquially known as “mind-rape.” Jeff was automatically banned from even stepping foot inside a casino.

However, there was a thriving black market for psychic P.I.’s, with a wide range of clients. They were handy in custody battles, where the ex-wife wanted the dirt on her no-good spouse. In competitive sports, where one player wanted to know the secret weakness of his opponent.

Although illegal, Jeff was a strictly off-the-books consultant to the Pentagon, where he could pick the brains of an enemy scientist.

Even though his profession was technically illegal, his crime was rarely enforced. The DA was afraid to prosecute a psychic P.I., since certain details concerning the DA’s youthful indiscretions or extracurricular interests might mysteriously find their way into the headlines a day after the indictment was handed down.

It took intense mental discipline to be a psychic P.I. You had to learn how to shut out the miscellaneous thoughts of all the men and women around you. And it was very disorienting to immerse yourself in someone else’s mind. Hard to maintain your personal identity. Your thoughts mingled with his, or hers.

After each case, it became harder to disengage your memories from the memories of the host. You needed time between cases to sort it out. Separate yourself from the entangling host.

To penetrate the mind of the host required one’s undivided attention. In his basement, Jeff had a soundproof room with a hospital bed, I.V. line, catheter, and so on, to keep his body under mild sedation and hydration for long hours while he tried to find his bearings inside the bewildering mind of the host.

Psychic detective work often involved a degree of serial mind-jumping. To extract a secret, you frequently had to approach the mind of the host through the mind of a trusted third party. Having that sympathetic connection made it easier to coax incriminating or embarrassing secrets from the mind of the host. After entering the mind of the host through the mind of a third party, you normally had to retrace your steps to regain consciousness.

In his current case, a mobster retained his services to pick the brains of a business rival. Jeff went through the mind of the businessman’s brother to reach into the mind of the host.

Unfortunately, this came with occupational hazards. While Jeff was successfully navigating the mind of the host, he suddenly felt a kickback, like a rifle recoiling. When he went back to check, he found out that his exit was gone. Where there had been a backdoor, there was now a wall. 

As it turns out, the brother just died from a headshot in a gangland slaying. With his escape route cut off, that left Jeff trapped in the mind of the host.

So Jeff had to find another way out. In principle, it was possible to regain consciousness if he jumped into the mind of someone with whom he had an emotional bond. Someone who remembered him. A friend or relative. He could use that preexisting pathway to make the return trip.

However, his profession generated a bit if a dilemma in that regard. When you know what other people really think of you, it’s hard to maintain a friendship. As such, Jeff didn’t have any current friends. He wasn’t in a relationship. He gave up on girlfriends, for however understanding they were, he could always overhear their unspoken resentments. The things they thought of saying, wanted to say, but bit their tongue. The girl talk. What they said bout him when he wasn’t around.

And that applied to his other relationships, or lack thereof. His profession was a recipe for misanthrope. Had he know psychic detective work was so lonely, he would have chosen a different career. But it was too late now.

Was there anyone else he could use as a bridge to get back? He thought of classmates from junior high and high school. But that was so long ago. The emotional connections generally weakened over the years as you lost contact.

Still, he’d been to his 20^th high school reunion last year, which gave him a chance, albeit brief, to renew his acquaintance with some students he knew way back when. But he was running out of time. His body could only survive untended for a few days while his mind played hooky. If his body died, he would be stuck in the head of this mobster for life. A distinctly unsavory prospect.

Jeff dipped into the minds of the classmates his chatted with at the reunion. But he didn’t mean that much to most of them, as he found out, trolling their minds.

However, there was one student who still cared about him. They had been good friends in junior high and high school. But that was before Brad got religion. Jeff couldn’t stand Christianity. It was incomprehensible to him how anyone could take the Bible seriously.

So they had a falling out shortly after Brad got saved. Not that Brad broke off the friendship. But Jeff lost all respect for Brad.

That was some twenty years ago. But now, ambling through the mind of his old school buddy, with whom he recently reconnoitered at their reunion, he discovered that Brad was the only one who continued to care about his long-long friend. Indeed, Brad had been praying for Jeff all these years.

But what is more, for the first time in his life, Jeff was seeing the Christian faith from the inside out. Through the eyes of his friend. He was privy to Brad’s inmost experience. And it suddenly fell into place. It suddenly made sense.

Of course, there was some sordid stuff in Brad’s mind. Not the sort of thing you’re proud of. Not the sort of thing you’d publicize.

But Jeff was used to that. Everybody had that sort of thing in the back of their minds. Often in the forefront. Whenever you mucked about in another man’s mind, you got your boots muddy. But Brad had something else. Something not of this world.

Jeff was able to use Brad’s mind as a catwalk to regain consciousness. He awakened, back in his body, lying on the hospital bed, with tubes and all.

He was the same, but not the same. For some of Brad’s memories were now a part of his memories. Memories of Brad’s conversion experience. Of answered prayer. Of God’s subtle, but fatherly providence in Brad’s life over the last twenty years or so. Passages of Scripture, committed to memory. Stanzas of hymns, inaudibly sung in the inner recesses of the mind.

Jeff couldn’t get that out of his head. It grew on him, like a vine.