Showing posts with label beliefs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label beliefs. Show all posts

Thursday, March 20, 2008

The Council of Nicaea

Let me start by saying that, although I was raised a Protestant, I no longer consider myself a Protestant. Most Catholics would probably still consider me a Protestant, simply because I am not Catholic, but I do not protest the Catholic Church. I don’t recognize the Pope as the leader of the whole church, either, but I’m not going to protest against that idea. Having said that, there has been a lot of discussion about the Council of Nicea. Some people have criticized it, some have said it was the best thing that could have happened. I think most people don’t really know what happened at Nicaea.
First of all, Constantine was an Emperor with a problem. He had this vast empire that struggled with religion. Many people didn’t accept the traditional Roman gods: some preferred the Greek gods (not that there was much difference), but there was also a significant Hebrew population, and there was a growing Christian presence. Of all the different religions in the Roman Empire, Christianity was growing the fastest. He allegedly had a dream in which he was given inspiration that he would be victorious using the sign of the cross. As far as I have been able to tell, the cross was not a Christian symbol prior to that.
Anyway, whether a result of the dream, or just a matter of trying to learn more about Christianity, Constantine began trying to find out what Christians actually believed. Unfortunately, Christianity had already begun to splinter by this time. Some people that called themselves Christians believed in the divinity of Christ, some didn’t; some that believed in the divinity of Christ didn’t believe that He became divine until He was baptized. There weren’t separate denominations yet, but Christianity might have been better off if there had been—at least if you go to a Methodist church, you know that church teaches what the Methodists believe; without denominations, you may visit a church that believes very differently than you do, and not realize it for twenty years (well, if you pay attention to the sermons, you’ll probably figure it out quicker than that, but there were probably many snoozers then, just as there are now).
So, Constantine wants to unite his empire under this religion, and he can’t even be sure what Christianity is. The realization sets in that a lot of people who call themselves Christians don’t even know what their religion is all about. So, he sets up a meeting. He invites all of the known Christian leaders in the world to come to Nicaea (why Nicaea and not Rome? Nicaea was more of a central location), to discuss, debate, and codify the beliefs of the Christian church. This could have, and possibly would have, been a milestone in Christian history (many people still believe that it was) except for the fact that it was being presided over by an outsider, an unbeliever.
Many Christians were suspicious of Constantine. Traditionally, the Roman government had been a source of persecution against the church. Certainly it was possible that Emperor Constantine had finally figured out that the more he persecuted the church, the more it grew, but many church leaders were not willing to give him credit for having that much intelligence.
Undoubtedly, many church leaders prayed about this council, and felt very strongly that this council was not of God, and that they should not go. Many others thought about it, and came to the conclusion that it was probably a trap, that Constantine simply wanted to gather together the leaders of this thorn in the Empire’s side in order to butcher them, and hopefully get rid of Christianity once and for all. Some of the leaders felt that this was simply Constantine trying to tell them what to believe, and didn’t go. Less than twenty percent of the ones that were invited actually went. Did the views of the twenty percent accurately represent the views of the other eighty percent? One could certainly argue that a twenty percent sample is usually representative of the whole, but a lot depends on how the sample is obtained. If I take a gallon of milk that has not been homogenized, and just pour out twenty percent of it, and test that twenty percent, it should be roughly equivalent to the rest of the gallon. If I skim off twenty percent off the top, I’m probably going to get a lot more cream. Did Constantine skim twenty percent off the top of the church? Probably not intentionally, but I submit that, if those church leaders that prayed and felt that God did not want them to take part in the council were right, then whoever showed up in Nicaea did not represent the church.

Thursday, September 20, 2007

I Want to Believe

Yesterday was International Talk Like a Pirate Day. I knew that in advance, I thought about it yesterday morning, but when I logged on this morning, I saw some stuff about it, and realized, I did not say anything pirate-like at all yesterday. I didn't even post pirate-like phrases in my blog yesterday. Aaargh! What a scurvy thing for me to do! Ye must think me to be quite the scallywag.
Oh well, I can't go back and change it now. What's done is done.
Something that popped into my head for no apparent reason this morning: Some years ago, when I was in the Navy, I was stationed in the Chicago area when Michael Jordan was playing for the Bulls, and I had a roommate that was from Michigan. He hated the fact that, even though the Pistons were a good team, the Bulls kept beating them. I think he really hated Michael Jordan. He read somewhere that Jordan was averaging better than 25% of the Bulls points, and he harped on that fact for weeks. Anytime he heard anything about the Bulls (even if it was criticism), he would say, "You know, that's pretty sad when one guy scored 25% of your team's points. Pretty sad."
For a long time, I didn't really get what he meant by that, but someone else overheard him (someone that had played for his high school basketball team), and kind of pulled me aside, and explained that what my roommate was talking about was that with five players on the court at once, and, generally, one player isn't going to play the whole game; if everyone on the team is equally skilled, and they play as a team, no one player should score more than 20% of the team's total. Of course, there are a lot of if's there. He pointed out that, given Jordan extra-ordinary ability, and the fact that he was spending more time on the court that the average player, for him to only score 25% of the Bulls' total was actually a testament to their teamwork.
The next time my roommate made his "pretty sad" comment, there just happened to be a newspaper lying nearby. I picked it up, flipped to the sports section, and, as it happened, it had a rundown of the Piston's latest game. If memory serves, Isiah Thomas had scored 35 points of the Pistons 98 point total. I don't even need a calculator to figure that percentage. I read the numbers to him, and then said, "You know, that's pretty sad when one guy scores 35% of the team's points." He didn't say anything. I didn't hear him say anything about the Bulls for about a week, and then something set him off again. As luck would have it, there was once again a newspaper close at hand, with a Pistons write-up in it. This time, Thomas had scored 37 points, and Detroit still hadn't broken 100. I don't have to tell you what I said next. I never heard anything more about Jordan's 25% again.
Come to think of it, I think I know why this popped into my head--Isiah Thomas was in the news yesterday. But that's another story, and I'm not going to get into that.
I think sometimes we all get in the mindset that, I want to believe this, so whatever evidence supports my belief (no matter how flimsy), I will hold onto that, and I will disregard any evidence to the contrary. We make excuses for the evidence that we don't like, if possible: Oh, that study was done by such-and-such a group, and they are funded by this other group that... What ever. And certainly, sometimes studies are tainted, but sometimes we just plain want to believe what we want to believe.