Monday, February 25, 2008

Changing Faiths

The New York Times had an article today on people changing faiths. Click on the title to go to that article. The article's focus seemed to be on people leaving their faith and the increase of people that are unattached to a faith group.

This made me think about my pilgrimage through faith. I was baptized at eleven in a very traditional Baptist church. By the time I reached my teens, I no longer felt that I belonged. I asked questions that did not get answered or I was told were not appropriate. All the questions were about theology. I planned to be a scientist. I could not reconcile my faith and science. With no answers from my faith, I withdrew. I was no longer sure of the veracity of Christianity. I did not lose my belief in God, but he settled comfortably into the guise of the clockmaker.

I had a Ph.D. in Chemistry at twenty-five. My supervising professor had been a Presbyterian who tried in vain to get me not to do research on Sundays. I accepted a postdoctoral fellowship under a Jewish professor. I covered his classes on Jewish holy days. We never discussed faith, but I knew that except for his mother and father, all his family perished in the Holocaust. He did ask me to hold office hours for some of his Arab students who had told him they were uncomfortable with him and requested my help. I did hold office hours for him that whole semester and always had students requesting help.

Eventually, I went to work for the State of Texas in air pollution control. My paternal grandmother died after a battle with cancer. I began to search for a source of faith. I examined Buddhism, Hinduism and some of the Chinese faiths. I touched on Wiccan, then picked up a book by C.S. Lewis: The Screwtape Letters. For the first time, I was intellectually engaged with Christianity. I went on to read more books and eventually joined a liberal Southern Baptist church. I made a new commitment to Christ that continues to this day. While I still belong to a church affiliated with the Southern Baptist Convention, I do not consider myself a Southern Baptist. I am Baptist, part of the priesthood of the believer.

If I had been polled in those years between my teens and my return to Christ, I would have been classified as agnostic or perhaps unbelieving. I doubt that I would have considered myself a Deist, just undecided. I suspect that as many of the people in this study age, they will find their faith anew.

Thursday, February 21, 2008

Embryonic Stem Cells and My Faith

My mother had Parkinson's Disease (PD) for sixteen years. She died from PD in 2005, but she had slipped away from me in small increments for years. Her PD made me interested in the possibilities of stem cell research, especially embryonic stem cell research. As a Christian, I was also concerned about the ethics of embryonic stem cell research. After studying both the science and the ethical issues, I came to firmly support embryonic stem cell research.

First, I dealt with the science. Was the promise of embryonic stem cells real? Yes. Embryonic stem cells can become any cell in the body. If scientists could learn the secrets of embryonic stem cells, then any cell in the body could be replaced. If embryonic stem cells could be coaxed to become dopamine producing neurons, then Parkinson's disease could be treated. The potential was there. Only time and new research would prove the efficacy. Embryonic stem cell research also provided a way to gain insight into the cause of disease. How much better to prevent the disease from ever happening than to have to cure it.

Next, I dealt with the ethics of stem cell research. To date, the best way to get embryonic stem cells was to harvest them from a less than fourteen day old fertilized egg. This procedure destroyed the fertilized egg, so the question I had to face was whether I believed that a fertilized egg was a human being or, most importantly for me, had a soul. If the fertilized egg were a human being or had a soul, then, no matter the benefits, I could not support stem cell research.

I looked both to my faith and science for the answer. Psalm 39 says "He knit me together in my mother's womb." I understand that to mean that only in the womb does a fertilized egg become a human being and receive a soul. That was scant justification. The Bible also states that we are created in God's image. Scholars have interpreted this to mean that the image of God is our mind. There is no mind present in a fourteen day old embryo, no central nervous system, no brain. This helped, but did not decide the issue for me.

Science ultimately provided the key for me. We now know that fifty percent of all eggs fertilized naturally during a woman's lifetime do not implant. So, if a fertilized egg had a soul, God was letting half of all souls be wasted. I simply do not believe the God I know would act so capriciously. For me, the issue was decided. I could support embryonic stem cell research wholeheartedly.

I do not know when an embryo receives a soul. I know that it does not happen before it implants in the womb.

Monday, February 18, 2008

"Study Finds Cancer Diagnostics Linked to Insurance"

A study (above title is link to NYTimes article) has shown that people without insurance or with only Medicaid are diagnosed with cancer later than people with good health insurance. This results in more cancer deaths in those covered by Medicaid. As I have noted before here, I believe this is the system desired by business and the Republican controlled government. What better way to remove people who are not productive than to let them die because of poor medical care. This also reduces the cost of care for these people because they do not live long enough to use as much care as they would if diagnosed early. All in all, a very good way to winnow the population.

Sunday, February 17, 2008

Austin Presidential Debates

The Democrats are holding a debate between Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama in Austin, Texas. There will be 100 tickets available for the public. The spokesman for the Democratic Party said on television that the number was limited because of safety concerns. If I used profanity, I would use it now. Barack Obama has had huge rallies in Austin. Hillary Clinton has been drawing crowds all over Texas. The tickets to the public are not limited because of safety concerns. The tickets to the public are limited because the Democratic Party in Texas wants to hand out these tickets to their select, just as old party bosses handed out favors in years past.

The Democratic Party in Texas has been so afraid of offending the Republican majority that they offer only token opposition. The Democratic Party in Texas is a hollow shell filled with politicians of questionable merit.
The party structure does not want new ideas or new blood that might upset the status quo. They do know how to make money: you can buy tickets to a private debate viewing party.

Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton obviously don't want the public either. I am sure they will reward big money donors with tickets. Whatever their rhetoric, their true constituencies will be there, the wealthy and the well-connected. The poor, the handicapped, the elderly will not be allowed. The audience must have the proper image.

I will vote for the Democratic candidate for President because of the potential to fill vacancies on the Supreme Court. I doubt that once elected that they will do anything for most people. Just like tickets to the debate, benefits will go to business and the well-connected.

Monday, February 11, 2008

Faith Healing

I had an indirect experience with faith healing when I was a child. I had to use a wheelchair because of a bone disease, Legg-Perthes or necrosis of the femur. One weekend afternoon, my mother and I were coming home from the park (You can fly a kite from a wheelchair). Mother was pushing me in my wheelchair. A car passed us, then pulled to the curb. A well-dressed, older man got out and came over to us. He handed mother a business card and explained that he was with the Oral Roberts crusade in town that week. There would be a healing service tonight. He suggested that she bring me. Mother politely declined. I thought that was the end of the conversation.

The man persisted. He asked me what was wrong with me. At eleven, I was only too happy to engage an adult in conversation. I babbled the name of my disease and how it had affected me. The man visibly brightened as I talked. He beamed at my mother and told her that many children with my malady had been healed through Reverend Roberts. She must bring me to the service. Mother told him the truth. We did not have a car; we probably would not come.

"That is not a problem," the man said. "We can send a car for you."

My mother smiled, her sweet smile that meant she was up to no good. "I do appreciate that, but I can arrange transportation. Now, I need to get home."

"Do come. Your child will be healed," the man called after us.

I already knew that we were not going. Mother's march home told me she was upset. When we reached our house, she explained. "God can heal you. I always pray for that. You don't need a faith healer."

Some weeks later, I had my regular check-up with my orthopedist. Not much had changed. I was surprised when he brought up Oral Roberts. Mother recounted our experience. I think the doctor looked at her with new respect.

"You know your child could walk now, but it would do irreparable damage to the bone. There have been children who think they have been healed by faith healers. These children leave their wheelchairs and walk.
None have been healed. You did the right thing."

Eventually, my femur did heal, not perfectly, but well enough for me to be able to walk. Mother and I did not discuss that encounter with the recruiter for Oral Roberts for many years. When we did, I thanked her for being so sensible. She just smiled that sweet smile.

Friday, February 8, 2008

Bad Days

My mother died three years ago today. She had fought Parkinson's disease for over sixteen years. I was her caregiver. I was with her early in the morning as life slipped away. I held her hand and petted her head. I don't know if she knew I was there, but that doesn't matter. She was not alone when she died, that is what matters. I have been alone ever since.

Wednesday, February 6, 2008

Tornadoes


Last night, so many people died because of nature's wrath. All I can do is pray for their loved ones in this time of sorrow. Tornadoes ripped through communities in the middle of the night. Because I live in Texas, I have been in a tornado's path several times, but I personally have never been punished by those fierce winds.

I have seen one dip out of low hanging clouds behind us as we drove home from the country. I have seen the path of a tornado through the countryside that looked like a giant lawnmover had been driven cross country. Instead of twisted grass from the rotary blades, there were twisted trees. That tornado started in open country, then whirred through a small town. Luckily, no one died.

I have made my mother sit in the hallway (the center of the house) with the family pets around her as we listened to the wind howl and the radio broadcast the nearness of a twister. Strangely, I never was afraid. That destroyer passed us by with no damage. Will I always be so lucky?

Tornadoes are a reminder of how fragile our world really is. We are so sure that we are in control of our destiny. We make plans that assume a world unchanged. Tornadoes, whirling fingers of death, obliterate
our structures and our lives.

We need to worry less about the second coming, the rapture, and the millenia, and more about the present. We need to help others today because there may be no tomorrow. We need to pray for all those injured by nature's untamed ways. We need to thank God for the moment. We need to acknowledge how fleeting life can be and savor the now.

Sunday, February 3, 2008

Stuck in the Baptistry


When I was eleven, I committed my life to Jesus. (I would do so again as an adult, but that is another story.) My Presbyterian grandmother was not happy that her only grandchild was about to become a Southern Baptist. My mother enlisted the aid of the pastor to convince her that I should be baptized.

The pastor and my grandmother had a long, serious discussion about the two faiths, but my grandmother was not convinced. The pastor looked at me, then turned to my grandmother and said, "A little more water won't hurt her." My grandmother laughed and agreed.

Now, there were some difficulties about my baptism. I had a bone disease, Legg-Perthes, and was either in a wheelchair or on crutches because I could not use my left leg. It was decided that I would be the first one baptized that particular Sunday, so that I could enter the baptistry with the curtains drawn. That worked just fine except that my crutches slipped a little on the metal baptistry. The pastor steadied me, and I handed my crutches to a helper.

The baptism went forward without a problem. I was an avid swimmer and had no fear of water. Getting dunked was no big deal. I cannot say that I felt any different. I was focused on the problem of getting out of the baptistry.

The helper handed me my crutches, and I planted the firmly as I made my way to the steps out of the baptistry. They slid a little each time but held. When I reached the first step, I really pushed the crutches down. The crutches did not move as I pushed myself onto the first step. I pulled on the crutches to bring them to the step. The crutches did not move. I was stuck. The suction cups were sealed to the metal floor. I jerked and the crutches came free with a sound I have never heard duplicated -- a metal flexing and releasing, groaning plop. No one in the congregation made a sound. I had to repeat the process for one more step. The noise was just as horrendous. At the top of the steps, the helper reached down and dried my crutches tips. I had no more problems with sticking.

Years later as I confronted my doubts about Christianity, I would contemplate that baptism and its meaning. I would never forget the grace of that congregation that did not laugh at my predicament. Theirs was a gift I still appreciate.