LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

fallen angel:

      • “My car won’t start.” Must be Satan.

      • “Cafeteria food here sucks.” Must be Satan.

      • “Someone placed two big blue beach balls on top of the chapel under the steeple.” Must be Satan. (Actually, I have another theory as to the culprit.)

      • “My boyfriend wants to have premarital sex.” Must be Satan.

      • “My girlfriend doesn’t want to have premarital sex.” Must be Satan.

      Well, maybe not that last one, but you get the picture. Satan gets the blame for everything. Now, I am not trying to say that if there really is an ontological personality known as Satan that this being is not responsible for some horrid things. But using Satan as an explanation for everything you personally do not like is not only theologically problematic, it is also terribly dangerous. It opens the door to the rampant demonization of other people despite Christianity’s claim that all humans, regardless of creed, race, nationality, gender, or faith tradition (or, lack thereof), are created in the image of God.

      And yes, even evolutionists bear the imago Dei.

      Satan Gives Birth on the Galapagos Islands (and Kirk Cameron Goes Bananas)

      To say that the banana happened by accident is even more unintelligent than to say that no one designed the Coca Cola can.

      —Kirk Cameron

      Evolution is a bankrupt speculative philosophy, not a scientific fact.

       Only a spiritually bankrupt society could ever believe it. Only atheists could accept this Satanic theory.

      —Jimmy Swaggart

      Normally, I do not take too seriously the words of actors who do not understand the process of cultivating edible fruit, or the words of televangelists who have sex with prostitutes and threaten to kill homosexuals. Yet, their commentary is fairly indicative of those within Christianity who believe evolution undermines the biblical narrative. Equating the teachings of Darwin with that of a sinister master-plan of Satan is by no means novel or rare. For many Christians, it is simply not enough to disbelieve in evolution; one has the moral obligation to oppose it.

      What evolution has to do with my search for Satan was not immediately obvious to me; only later did it become apparent. Though this book records the results of my plan to find Lucifer—or as he is more fondly known, Old Horny4—there were some conversations and situations that I merely stumbled into. What follows is one of these. I am including it because I find it such a compelling case for what it means to be defined, specifically, by what one opposes, and how this creates a tendency in us to demonize others in a manner that is rather, well, demonic.

      So, here you go.

      “Darwin was of the Devil!” screamed the African-American preacher. “He wants you to think that you came from apes! From monkeys! And now they want to teach that garbage, that lie of Satan, to our children. I say ‘no!’”

      And the people gathered cried out in one voice “No!”

      “I say ‘no’ to those . . . those atheists, those . . . those God-deniers who want to tell our children we came from monkeys. I also say ‘woe!’”

      And the congregation screamed “woe!”

      “I say woe to those who would pervert God’s image, who would attempt to teach our children, even our adults . . .” As he slowly uttered those last three words his expression began to change. It was as if he was about to do battle for the very souls of the people he loves.

      “Don’t lie now, don’t you dare lie. Some of you even right now at this very moment are thinking that science has all the answers, aren’t ya’ll?”

      A conflagration of voices simultaneously filled the air: “Lord no!” “Heavens please forgive us if we did!” “No, no, no good reverend, no!” “I love the lord!” “Sweet Jesus save us!”

      It was an overwhelming experience. So chaotic, yet so controlled.

      “That’s the Holy Spirit working,” I was later told.

      The reverend’s smile returned when he found the response he wanted to hear. “I know, I know ya’ll are some God-fearing, God-loving people. And I know none of ya, not a one of ya, would ever betray their Lord for anyone who would try to tell you that you descended from a monkey. Of all the absurd, irrational, atheistic God-hating things I have ever heard. Do you honestly think you would have had your freedom if you weren’t created in the image of God?”

      “Oh, save us Jesus!” shouted a thin, elderly lady in the front row. Her hat must have weighed more than her body. It was huge. Big and white with various artificial flowers sprouting out of it. She started stomping her feet at the thought of her hard-fought battle for freedom. I’m guessing she was probably in her late sixties or early seventies. I thought about how she had probably seen her fair share of evil.

      “Jesus has saved you Audrey! Praise him right now!” exclaimed their preacher. Not that Audrey needed an invitation, but with it she threw down moves that would have impressed the most devout fan of “Saturday Night Fever.”

      It was truly a sight to behold.

      Amidst the blaring music and harmonization of voices, Audrey was dancing like nobody’s business. It made me think of the victory dance King David might have given when he danced through the streets of his kingdom, except there were no jealous people to condemn her for her doxological body.

      People were shedding their coats, tossing their hats, stomping their feet, clapping their hands, singing in shouts, shouting in song, and all the while, sitting in the very back, was a lone white boy starting to understand what Du Bois meant by his narration of practicing double-consciousness.

      I was thinking many things, but at that particular point I was thinking about what seemed to be an interesting leap of logic. To suggest that Darwin’s teaching could undermine the further advancement of civil rights was something new to me. If this service ever ends, I was thinking, I’ll ask him about it.

      Several exhilarating, yet very exhausting, hours later, I finally landed the chance to chat with the minister.

      I explained to him that I really enjoyed their service. To be sure, this was not your typical Sunday service. It wasn’t even on a Sunday; it was on a Friday night. The service was also not held in a church, but in a theater. I was working part-time as the Assistant Technical Director at the Paramount Theater in Burlington, North Carolina. Since the theater is owned by the city, it can be rented by anyone for any occasion. Interestingly enough, we have as many church groups rent the theater as local acting communities. It holds about four hundred people, and you have plenty of stage space for your performers. It also has all sorts of perks that many church groups find advantageous. Therefore, it is often rented for staged dramas, revivals, Southern Gospel concerts, weddings, and the occasional ecclesial variety show. This particular event was a combination of a relatively improvised play followed by a very lengthy worship service.

      “I don’t care if they call this place a theater,” shouted the minister, “right now it’s the house of God!”

      I cannot tell you how many different ministers have used that same line. It’s as if they feel the need to apologize for having a church service in a “godless” theater, so they decide to reclaim it for Christ—even if only for a few hours.

      After it was over, I helped with the load out, took care of all my technical duties, and asked the minister for a few moments of his time. He was more than happy to speak with me. I introduced myself as a student, and teacher, of theater and theology, and that I was interested in asking him a few questions about Satan. Of course, like any good conversation you need to get the introductions down correctly. I wasn’t sure of his exact title (a number of people referred to him with different designations), so I asked what he wanted to be called.

      “You can call me the Lord’s Servant, a vessel for his voice, a preacher called and sent and thus proudly went—wherever

Скачать книгу