books

Review: Why I Left / Why I Stayed

Why I Left, Why I Stayed: Conversations on Christianity Between an Evangelical Father and His Humanist Son

Well-known evangelical author Tony Campolo, and his ex-evangelical humanist son Bart, trade chapters in a book that’s meant to be representative of the conversations they had after Bart left the faith. It’s not so much an apologetic debate (though there is certainly some of that), but more about relating their personal narratives and exploring what they each see as the philosophical implications of their beliefs. They discuss believing (or doubting) the basic tenets of Christianity, the pursuit of moral goodness in communities with or without God, the significance of death, and more.

Most of the people I know in this situation are evangelical Baby Boomer parents with ex-evangelical children. From the little I knew of both men prior to reading this book, I had assumed the Campolos more or less fit that scenario. But the Campolos are a generation removed from the audience they hope to encourage; Tony is north of eighty, and Bart north of fifty, the latter de-converting after decades of youth-rousing ministry following his father’s footsteps. Another interesting difference is that while most of the ex-evangelical Millennials I know have embraced a social-justice ethic in stark contrasts with their conservative forebears, the Campolos had both embraced that concern for the poor and marginalized from within Christianity, as part of their holistic understanding of the gospel. Of course, every individual and family narrative is unique, and readers will no doubt find fascinating and thought-provoking comparisons and contrasts. Despite the short book’s abundant weaknesses, it may serve a useful starting point for some families in similar situations.

Bart’s chapters are more articulate, as Tony himself admits (unfortunately, and perhaps a reflection of generational distance, I thought many of Tony’s arguments would seem trite and stale to my secular friends). I found myself in agreement with a lot of Bart’s remarks. I enjoyed his thoughts about death as a motivator to make the most of our limited time, the perspective of appreciating the very fact that we are alive at all, and the value of vicariously enjoying the joys and successes of others over resentment and bitterness – though I see all of that as perfectly fitting with a Christian worldview. Even beyond that, though, my overall outlook on the world is more “humanistic” than it used to be, but I find none of that at odds with my Christianity – in fact, I see it as the fundamental driver of that outlook (more on that below), and I would agree with Tony in affirming those things as evidence of the work of God within humanists like Bart, despite their firm denials.

I identified with the youthful radical passion of Christian Bart and his closest friends, and that attraction to Bonhoeffer’s “costly grace,” whatever the rest of the church seemed to be doing. But Bart saw a lot of suffering through his inner-city ministry, and he cited some of these up-close-and-personal encounters with the problem of evil as a major factor in his de-conversion. (While I haven’t been affected in the same way, I can relate in a parallel way; the greater my awareness of the poverty and persecution of deeply faithful Christians outside the United States, the greater my inoculation against the many flavors of prosperity gospel within this country.)

Many Christians can’t fathom alternative bases of morality without the Bible. Bart argues that even Bible-based moral systems are more subjective than Christians think, and he does a fair job defending his basic interest in human flourishing. But I’ve already trod that ground (a la Sam Harris), and I want to move beyond the binary question of whether secular people can be “evil” or “good” (from a humanistic standpoint, that is – from a Calvinistic standpoint we’re all totally depraved), and ask the more interesting question of how good people can be.

Considering the widening circles of concern that Bart alludes to – i.e. self, family, nation, species – I acknowledge that secular morality can rationally extend concern to all of those circles, yet I also assert that the level of concern naturally drops off with each level. The question of how good people can be could also be thought of as a question of how steeply a person’s concern for others drops off once they get past their immediate family. A “weak goodness” doesn’t want to hurt people, and hopes all people will prosper, but isn’t going to sacrifice too many personal conveniences to make that happen. In other words, it’s a goodness with steep slopes. By contrast, a “strong goodness” is what I see in the Christian ideal, which radically flattens those slopes. Jesus redefines the “neighbor” that you love to include foreigners and enemies. Every service for the “least” of humans is equivalent to serving Jesus himself. It all hearkens back to the original declaration that all human beings – male and female – are created in the “image of God.” Unfortunately, the lives of many Christians only reflect a “weak goodness,” but it is only the growing conviction of the true message of Christianity that has led me to pursue a stronger, flatter goodness.

Bart clearly still desires a radical love-your-neighbor-as-yourself “strong goodness,” but (in my view) he no longer has a compelling foundation to logically defend much more than a “weak goodness.” Bart agrees with Tony that humans “are hard-wired for heroism and can feel truly happy and fulfilled only when called upon to sacrificially use their gifts and energies in the service of a noble cause much bigger than themselves,” and Bart seems to think this truth justifies a global concern for the preservation of the human species. Clearly it does for some – look no further than the budding Effective Altruist movement. But while it’s all well and good to describe happy conversations with college students who already want to be “good without god,” I wondered what he would say to those whose concern for others drops off a steep slope once they get past their own selves and families.

The universal image of God is implicit in creationist theology, and it can be harmonized (with some challenges) into evolutionary theology, but the atheist’s evolution, with none of that divine intervention, seems to me to have plenty of justifications for steeper slopes. Is it necessarily best for the human species as a whole for all of its individuals to flourish, when that’s not true for any other evolved species under the sun? Without the image of God uniting us, without Jesus teaching that to serve the least is to serve Himself… shouldn’t different groups eventually diverge into separate species with separate outcomes?

Surely I’m not the only one who would at least entertain such thoughts apart from Christian doctrine. I view the post-Christian culture wars between social-justice humanists and alt-right nationalists through this paradigm, and I’m not convinced the humanists have much that’s compelling to persuade the nationalists to flatten their slopes; after all, they think they’re heroically saving civilization, too! The best at that flattening game right now, by far, is Jordan Peterson – and it’s no surprise to me that he’s doing it by digging into the astonishingly deep wells of the Bible, and cautiously leaving the door open to the truths of its fundamental metaphysical propositions!

Unlike many who have suffered more traumatic and tragic exits, Bart still has a largely positive view of the church, describing it as “one of the greatest community-building forces in history.” He now wants to recreate that community with his secular students, and he thinks it’s easier to build his secular community because he doesn’t have to drag along the supernatural propositions he always struggled to believe. But I’m not sure how interested I would be without the supernatural.

It’s not merely that I’m a selfish being who needs the threat of divine retribution to be good; I suspect I would maintain some form of self-interested “weak goodness,” and probably even pursue some level of life-fulfilling heroism. But at some point the principles of diminishing returns and the unavoidable uncertainty of outcomes would join forces with my selfish justifications. At least for me personally, to radically flatten the slope of my concern for all human beings, I don’t just need divine motivation. I need divine grace for my struggles and failures to live up to those ideals. I need divine power to guide me in specific directions toward fruitful opportunities. And most of all, I need the divine hope of ultimate victory to sustain me in spite of all the evil and suffering that remains.

I was surprised to read Bart claim that he’s still “very much attracted to the idea of a good and loving God who understands all that we don’t” and “utterly triumphs over both sin and death in the end,” and that he would “gladly swallow” a magic pill that would enable him to “truly believe all that again.” I found this statement hard to reconcile with his later arguments for some of the superiorities of his new worldview, and wondered how much of that was motivated reasoning. Perhaps he’s missing that divine hope more than he knows.

But I suppose Bart might say God didn’t give him enough of that divine hope and power, and without it his faith was unsustainable. What’s fascinating to me is that he hasn’t lost his desire for “strong goodness” which was always a part of his Christianity. I think I would be the opposite – without divine hope and power, I think my more recent desire for “strong goodness” would be unsustainable, and I would at least retreat at some level towards the weaker goodness of more nominal Christianity. But it’s also hard for me to guess because I think of my faith itself as having other independent supports. (Speaking of that, while both Campolos touched on the role of personal emotional experiences, with Tony seeing them as evidence of supernatural connection and Bart seeing them has nothing more than brain chemistry, I was surprised to see neither take a position on claims of personal miracles or other signs of external interventions, which have always played a strong role in my own apologetic.)

Of course, for all my armchair psychoanalytic attempts to rationally compare and contrast my worldview with Bart’s, I thought Tony made a good point about the “plausibility structures” of the people and influences with which we surround ourselves and which inform all of our beliefs more than we like to admit. Yet the way Tony described himself as “choosing” to believe felt a little wishy-washy and unsatisfying to me. By the end of the book, I wasn’t sure how much I agreed or disagreed with either man, but they did give me things to think about, and I applaud their efforts at modeling healthy relationships and conversations around disagreements about the most important things in the universe.

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Favorite Books I Read in 2017

1. Misreading Scripture with Western Eyes: Removing Cultural Blinders to Better Understand the Bible by E. Randolph Richards and‎ Brandon J. O’Brien (2012). Don’t judge this book by its weird cover; it’s so good I read it twice. Shows how the way we read the Bible – and the way we criticize it – is more influenced by our cultural backgrounds than we realize, with plenty of mind-blowing examples covering language differences, honor/shame culture, paradigms about time, and many, many more, along with encouragement for overcoming such biases.

 

2. The Three Body Problem by Cixin Lu (2014 – English translation). Lu’s widely acclaimed Chinese science fiction trilogy (first book pictured) is a wild fast-paced thriller, cleverly weaving everything from the history of mathematics to the physics of interstellar travel to the sociology of alien interactions in a massive yet engaging story. The atheistic worldview tends more fatalistic than utopian, with the fates of entire civilizations whip-lashing darkly between unexpected rescue and utter annihilation, the ultimate outcomes ever unpredictable. I enjoyed this series on scientific, spiritual, and leisurely levels all at the same time.

3. Seeking Allah, Finding Jesus: A Devout Muslim Encounters Christianity by Nabeel Qureshi (2014). A young man’s fascinating personal story of conversion from Islam to Christianity, through the dovetailing of intellectual apologetics and supernatural dreams, all in the context of a relationship with a great friend. In addition to being inspired and challenged, Christians who don’t currently know any Muslims can greatly benefit from the informed window into a compassionate American Muslim family’s life.

 

4. Evolution 2.0: Breaking the Deadlock Between Darwin and Design by Perry Marshall (2015). Sort of an intelligent design guy – sort of an evolution guy – definitely a Christian – Marshall doesn’t fit into normal people’s boxes. He believes random mutations can’t lead to new life forms, and that cells are so complex that they point to a creator…. who gave those cells amazing tools to intelligently re-program their own DNA in response to new challenges and make evolution possible! Marshall popularizes the “natural genetic engineering” work of biologists like James Shapiro, making complicated concepts easy to understand. While critics on both sides question the implications, any science enthusiast – whatever your views – should enjoy reading about some of the really cool things we’ve been learning about cells in recent years.

5. Simply Christian: Why Christianity Makes Sense by N. T. Wright (2006). A sort of Mere Christianity for a new generation, British scholar N. T. Wright lays out the fundamentals of the faith in a fresh and friendly fashion, describing how things have gone wrong in the world and how Jesus Christ is the solution, decorated with Lewis-like insights, analogies, and other delightful and encouraging remarks along the way. If you’ve become discouraged or disillusioned in recent years, you may find this book rejuvenating.

 

6. Blue on Blue: An Insider’s Story of Good Cops Catching Bad Cops by Charles Campisi (2017). As chief of the NYPD’s Internal Affairs Bureau (IAB), “the police who police the police,” Campisi describes more corruption in the police – but also police working harder to stamp out that corruption – than many on either side of the policing debates may expect. Recommended for those who want to be more informed on these important matters (accompanied by Corey Pegues’ Once A Cop for an even more complete picture on the value of leadership, and the challenges of racial issues, related to making positive changes in New York City.)

7. Inside the Revolution by Joel Rosenberg (2009). A fair and informative book on the complex nature of modern Islam from a conservative perspective. I learned a lot about the recent history of Iran’s radical leaders, the impressive (and underappreciated) actions of moderate leaders to stamp out radicalism and reform Islam, and the accelerating growth of Christianity in the Arab world. This book is not short, but it’s written at a very accessible level that will keep you coming back until you finish.

 

8. Where is Everybody? Fifty Solutions to the Fermi Paradox by Stephen Webb (2002). This is a really fun book that describes the history of the Fermi Paradox (the naturalist’s expectation that the universe should be full of life if there’s nothing special about its origin on Earth), and runs through a bunch of proposed explanations for its apparent absence, explaining why so many of the “obvious” ones aren’t that satisfying to many of the world’s top scientific minds. A mix of fun speculation and serious physics perhaps in the vein of Randall Munroe…

 

9. Rare Earth: Why Complex Life is Uncommon in the Universe by Peter D. Ward and Donald Brownlee (2003). Packed with scientific information from cosmology, biology, geology, and more, this book highlights the the numerous properties that make life on Earth seem so special, even from a purely naturalistic perspective. The numerous long-term external dangers, and the internal connections between life and the oceans and atmosphere, combined with the numerous major extinction events in the conventional history, showed me that both attaining and maintaining life on a planet for billions of years is a much more amazing and wonderful “act of creation” than I had ever imagined.

10. Dear White Christian by Aaron Layton (2017). This short book by a Christian African-American leader in St. Louis is an honest, humble effort at reconciling our region’s racial divides. It does not present itself as the end-all be-all of these conversations, but perhaps the beginning for any white Christians interested in trying to see things from another person’s perspective.

 

 

Honorable Mentions:

Cold Case Christianity by J. Warner Wallace (2013)

Is God A Mathematician? by Mario Livio (2009)

Locking Up Our Own: Crime and Punishment in Black America by James Forman Jr. (2017)

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Review: Inside the Revolution by Joel Rosenberg

This is a very fair and informative book on the complex nature of modern Islam and its implications for the world’s future. The book is divided into three sections covering “Radical” terrorists, moderate “Reformers,” and “Revivalists” converting to Christianity. Joel Rosenberg has a conservative right-wing perspective that strengthens the book in some places while weakening it in others, but the book’s greatest value is the vast content derived from direct, personal correspondence with people all over the world – Muslims, Christians, US government figures, Middle Eastern leaders, and more.

The “Radicals” section focuses on the history of Iran since the 1979 revolution and the ensuing effects on terrorist activity. There is a lot of really useful information here for anyone who wants to have a better understanding and context for current events involving Iran. That said, while I agree with Rosenberg that many dangerously underestimate the risks of Islamic terrorism, I think his bias may have overestimated the risk, which I think is borne out by the hindsight of the near decade since the book’s publication (Iran was apparently not 1-2 years away from a nuclear bomb, and the radical Ahmadinejad is no longer in power. In general I think Rosenberg’s missed expectations or interpretations may have been affected by placing too much emphasis on people’s spoken words, including some admittedly concerning poll results, rather than people’s revealed preferences through their actions, perhaps combined with potential nuances lost between languages and cultures.) Nevertheless, it’s a solid section and I learned a lot.

The “Reformers” section addresses not merely “moderate” Muslims as a general group – which Rosenberg says don’t get nearly enough attention or respect – but specifically focuses on Muslim government leaders across the Middle East and Africa, and their inspiring pro-active efforts to stamp out radical ideology and promote democratic freedoms in their countries. The king of Morocco is one such hero, but the star figure is Iraq’s first president Talabani, an experienced Kurdish Muslim seeking to unite his country’s divided groups against terrorism while building a relationship with Israel. This was the best information I’ve ever read on moderate Islam from any perspective, and it not only taught me a lot but made me very excited about the future political prospects for numerous Islamic countries. The author’s political bias shows through here with his unequivocal defense of the Iraq war, and US military interventions more generally, but he made a very compelling case for the positive outcomes of such American partnerships with Middle Eastern moderates. I don’t know if this information is so unfamiliar because the right doesn’t like to praise moderate Muslims and the left doesn’t like to praise Bush’s military adventures, but this section significantly impacted my views on the subject.

The final “Revivalists” section covers the accelerating growth of Christianity in Muslim countries. It talks about the supernatural dreams and visions that are well-known to anyone remotely familiar with this subject, and the different strategies and emphases of converted Muslim evangelists across the Middle East. The book’s earlier background about the effects of the Iranian Revolution helped me understand how the widespread disillusion among the largely nominal Muslim Iranian citizenry has created a wide-open door for the power of the Gospel, and, in contrast to some of the more fiery figures on the right, Rosenberg uses this section to highlight the crucial Christian themes of “loving your neighbor” and “loving your enemies.” The section’s primary weakness comes from trying to find too specific of connections to Biblical eschatology in current events, as the hindsight of a decade bears out. Overall, however, the section confirmed my existing optimism for the spiritual future of the Middle East.

With hundreds of pages packed full of information, this book is not a short read – but it’s written at a very accessible level that will keep you coming back until you finish. If you’re interested in a solid book from a Christian conservative perspective that will greatly improve your understanding of Islam in today’s world, I highly recommend it.

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Review: Jesus Interrupted by Bart Ehrman

I tried to give Bart Ehrman’s criticisms of the Gospel texts as unbiased a hearing as possible by listening to the audiobook of Jesus, Interrupted. Not that I am fully unbiased, but I at least feel like I’m at a place where I might be less biased about Biblical criticisms, and generally more open to progressive interpretations, than I have ever been. I made it more than halfway through but was unable to finish, after too many frustrating arguments that seemed no more enlightened than the very fundamentalism the author was critiquing.

A few notes:

  • Ehrman is emphatic that there are real discrepancies between the Gospels which ignorant Christians overlook by never taking the time to read passages side-by-side and notice their obvious inconsistencies. He promotes some interesting examples, but the fundamental flaw in his argument that there are irreconcilable discrepancies is that they require not just modern Christians but the original readers and compilers of the Bible to have been unaware of them. He even argues for discrepancies within the book of Luke that would have required Luke himself to be unaware of them. It has always seemed more reasonable to me that potential discrepancies are a clue, not that the texts are errant, but that we are not approaching the texts the same way the original readers did. (The book Misreading Scripture Through Western Eyes has certainly reinforced this idea for me.)
  • One type of alleged discrepancy regards the order of events in different tellings of the same story. Ehrman’s simplistic dismissals actually reminded me of young earth creationist (YEC) arguments alleging that there are geological layers in the wrong order, which prove the whole column is totally false. At a simple glance, the order does seem wrong in some cases, but there are more informed, nuanced explanations that account for more complexities that make sense, suggesting that certain parts can be out of order without falsifying the integrity of the total system. (In fact, there are even YEC interpretations that accept the order of the geological layers. In general, many of Ehrman’s complaints about the Bible reminded me of some forms of YEC complaints about modern science.)
  • Sometimes, Ehrman would set up straw men arguments. He would claim a discrepancy in the text, describe a bad explanation and dismiss it, while ignoring better explanations (example: Peter and the “six” crows to explain two different denial stories)
  • Some of Ehrman’s discrepancies were not event-based but claims of general thematic or theological differences. Leaving aside the question of whether thematic differences can simply be expressing different aspects of a complex truth, some of the claims simply felt like cherry-picking. Ehrman claims a discrepancy between Jesus’ anguish in Mark and his confidence in Luke – but Luke records his Gethsemane prayer, which certainly seems plenty anguished to me.
  • Ehrman’s criticisms of Paul’s letter felt no stronger. If 2 Thesslanonians is truly discrepant from 1 Thessalonians, why didn’t the early church notice it? There is an interesting point that Ephesians and Colossians seem to use different sentence structures; 10% of their sentences are “long” while Galatians and Philippians only have one each. Misreading Scripture suggests the common cultural practice of collaboration could easily account for these kinds of differences while still maintaining the truth of Paul’s direct, personal involvement.

Overall, while I believe there are many Biblical passages that may not be intended in as quite the literal, sequential, precise narrative sense that is the expectation of modern readers, I remain unconvinced that there is evidence to suggest that the texts could not have been divinely inspired or may have been subject to forgery, etc.

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Review: Locking Up Our Own by James Forman Jr.

Provides nuance to the story of mass incarceration in a way that challenges simplistic liberal and conservative narratives around racism, from the experienced perspective of a black public defense lawyer. It describes how and why punitive laws were built piece by piece throughout the country in response to drug and crime crises, specifically the role played by black leaders in majority-black cities.

The book details the growing alarm in black communities over rising crime and drug crises in the 70’s, 80’s, and 90’s that led to an increasing willingness to endorse harsher criminal justice measures in the face of limited options. The August 1979 cover of Ebony said “Black on Black Crime: The Causes, The Consequences, The Cures.” In another instance, “Rev. Jesse Jackson… pointed out that more blacks had been killed by other blacks in one year than had been lynched throughout history.” Eric Holder was an instrumental pioneer of pretext-stop policing, which ended up disproportionately punishing blacks for minor infractions, on the hopes that it would contain gun crime.

A chapter on the history of black policing taught me that black people were not even allowed to be police officers in many cities until halfway through the 20th century, and even then faced explicit discrimination and restrictions, such as not being allowed to arrest white people, and even after explicit racist practices were removed, unofficial discrimination continued for decades.

The book ends with the somewhat bittersweet hope that the excesses of mass incarceration can be undone, over time, just as it was built, piece by painstaking piece.

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Review: Blue on Blue by Charles Campisi

Blue on Blue: An Insider’s Story of Good Cops Catching Bad Cops is Charles Campisi’s account of his service over multiple decades in the New York City Police Department (NYPD). As chief of the department’s Internal Affairs Bureau (IAB), “the police who police the police,” it’s less a riveting narrative and more an organized collection of stories about catching crooked cops, peppered with Campisi’s opinions about all kinds of things related to police work and its public perception. The book will challenge both the dogmatic cop hater and the dogmatic cop apologist, describing more corruption in the police – but also police working harder to stamp out that corruption – than some on either side may expect.

Some of the stings to catch crooked cops are impressively elaborate. Some of the stories of criminal mistakes are downright (and occasionally darkly) hilarious. Overall, this is a very “pro-cop” book, contrasting the overwhelming majority of under-appreciated honest cops with the inevitable “bad apples” that Campisi spent his career expelling. Campisi takes ample opportunity to correct misconceptions, misunderstandings, and misrepresentations of police work by those who don’t understand it from the outside (important things for informed cop critics to recognize). For example, sometimes a corruption story would hit the press, and they would be accused of hiding it if wasn’t for the media exposure, even though IAB had already spent hundreds of hours behind the scenes gathering evidence against the perpetrators. Campisi also presents compelling evidence that the modern NYPD is cleaner, more professional, more fair, and more effective than earlier periods in its admittedly troubled history.

On the flip side, Campisi clearly demonstrates the temptations of power and the constant vigilance required to minimize corruption (important things for informed cop supporters to recognize). The NYPD should be commended for specifically addressing these challenges – for example, forcing regular officers into two-year IAB stints to overcome the cultural perception of internal affairs as less-worthy “rats”. Yet the challenges remain formidable, and some of Campisi’s details suggest his opinions may be a little optimistic. The chance involved in some of the stings, and the difficulty of proving previous crimes, makes one wonder how many other incidents slip through. Campisi doesn’t think there’s a solid “blue wall of silence,” giving copious examples of good cops exposing bad cops, but he also shows the heavy cultural incentives cops have to overlook abuses. Even with the infamous travesty of Louima and the broken broom handle, while cops eventually exposed Volpe, they initially were silent, with union reps backing them up, making one wonder how often other things stay hidden.

The Louima story reveals another major shortcoming with the book: its treatment, or rather lack of treatment, on racial issues. “In a perfect world,” it wouldn’t matter that Louima was black and Volpe was white; Campisi understands that “in this world,” it does, but he doesn’t seem to understand why – as if the incident itself is independent from the world in which it occurred. He is astonished that Volpe did what he did and unable to explain it, seemingly oblivious even to the possibility that a dehumanizing attitude toward black people could have played any role in allowing it. Campisi also only sees positives to the city’s “stop, question, and frisk” policy, as if its large effects on innocent minorities are acceptable collateral damage in the war on crime, and not counterproductive to it, and he predicts ominously that its severe reduction will lead to increased crime. But crime has only decreased to new record lows in the two years since. Campisi’s remarks still include some useful facts and perspective, but for better coverage of NYPD’s relationship with minorities, see Corey Pegue’s highly riveting Once A Cop. (Campisi also cautions against having too much “community” in “community policing,” saying “muggers and armed robbers are never going to show up at a Community Council meeting to discuss their problems.” While there’s an overall point to be made, the violence-reducing gang-member call-ins described in David Kennedy’s Don’t Shoot come pretty close to that!)

This brings me to two striking threads common in books on the NYPD. The first is the remarkable contrast between New York City’s current and past crime levels. Major categories like homicides have now dropped almost 90% from their peaks (so have “officer-involved shootings”). Visceral descriptions of NYC’s lawlessness of, say, the late 70’s, always give me hope that if they could turn things around from there, it’s never too late for my city of St. Louis, either. The second, however, is that NYC has an apparent advantage in its sheer size. NYPD has a force of over thirty-six thousand officers! Their IAB has more officers than some city’s entire forces, and they can afford to set up elaborate stings and throw resources in various directions. And positive changes can have positive effects on millions of people. Both threads are demonstrated in dramatic fashion throughout this book.

Many people have polarizing attitudes toward police officers, though most of us want the same things: safe streets, low crime, and a fair application of justice for all. Maybe Campisi’s book can be a resource towards that end. While there may be major disagreements about how systemic “bad cops” are, perhaps we can all agree on the importance of stopping their bad activities, from the injustices they inflict on their victims to the ways they ruin the good names of other officers. Perhaps people from opposite sides can join in hearty cheers when Campisi expresses indignation that “too often” the PBA union “seem to forget that every cop’s most basic sworn duty is not only to enforce the law, but also to obey it.” If nothing else, perhaps this book can at least help people who like to express their opinions on these important matters to be just a little more informed.

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Review: Making Sense of the Bible: Rediscovering the Power of Scripture Today

Making Sense of the Bible: Rediscovering the Power of Scripture Today
Making Sense of the Bible: Rediscovering the Power of Scripture Today by Adam Hamilton
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This book provides a solid mainline perspective on understanding the Bible. Hamilton summarizes the content and themes of the Bible and also addresses many good questions people have about it, offering reasonable answers to skeptics while simultaneously gently challenging the inflexible views of many evangelicals. As someone raised generally evangelically without a clear representation of the mainline perspective, I found it helpful in dispelling many false dichotomies that come with interpreting the Bible, and the way it made alternate viewpoints feel less threatening.

Hamilton challenges the popular evangelical idea that “if you can’t trust part of the Bible you can’t trust any of it” by noting that we don’t apply the same principle to trusted teachers and preachers we find fallible yet helpful. He also makes a strong argument that the evangelical definition of “inerrancy” has enough caveats to be almost meaningless (if modern variances or inconsistencies exist because only the original manuscripts were “God-breathed,” but none of the original manuscripts were preserved, than what was the point?). Supporting his “helpful but not necessarily infallible” view is a claim that the “God-breathed” phrase in Timothy, often invoked in defense of inerrancy, was also used to describe early church writings that have never been viewed in the same light. (I am interested in researching this further.)

Even as I appreciated the chance to become – if not totally convinced – at least more open-minded – about a less rigorous yet still solidly Christian understanding of Scripture, I occasionally found his evangelical challenges unconvincingly unimaginative. For example, he claims that the location of Jesus’ ascension is irreconcilably contradictory across the Gospels, which I did not find when I sympathetically reviewed the texts. I also found his attempts to reconcile an affirming stance on homosexuality with an inerrant interpretation surprisingly weak and clearly refutable; I remain convinced you cannot do that without also abandoning inerrancy. And while I am not necessarily opposed to the principle of using Jesus’ words to essentially override other parts of Scripture (while many evangelicals would never echo Hamilton’s language, in practice they are often similar), I’m not sure his approach to interpreting the Old Testament’s violent passages through Jesus is actually based on a comprehensive view of Jesus himself.

Overall, I found Hamilton’s book an excellent presentation of a viewpoint that I found to be much less hollow and inconsistent than I once suspected before I had actually read some of its stronger defenses. I think it would be helpful, both for the reputation of Christianity and for the saving of souls, if evangelicals were more familiar with the existence of this viewpoint, and in less agreement with their equally dogmatic secular opponents that one must either accept every evangelical interpretation or reject Christianity altogether.

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Review: No Shame in My Game: The Working Poor in the Inner City

No Shame in My Game: The Working Poor in the Inner City
No Shame in My Game: The Working Poor in the Inner City by Katherine S. Newman
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This book provides a detailed look into the lives of the urban working poor. Armed both with comprehensive data and numerous anecdotes, Katherine Newman dispels many myths and stereotypes about those who strongly desire to follow the American work ethic but don’t have the knowledge or connections to move up from where they are. The book focuses on fast-food workers in Harlem, examining in detail their ambitions, skills, work ethic, and challenges. It repeatedly drove home its core point that despite low pay, stressful working conditions, rude customers, and the pressures of school and children that all make a fast-food job barely more attractive than welfare, the deep desire to earn a living is so prevalent among the poor that local restaurants are continually flooded with applications, and many of the few who make it press on despite little chance of advancement. At the same time, the book is nuanced and well-rounded in its treatment of the variety of attitudes, viewpoints, and experiences among poor workers, their employers, and their friends and families. It is hardly the end of the debate for how to improve the lot of America’s urban poor (the solutions offered are generally unconvincing), but for anyone who has ever expressed an opinion on that plight without really knowing anyone living it, this book is a great place to start.

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Review: Trust Me, I’m Lying: Confessions of a Media Manipulator

Trust Me, I'm Lying: Confessions of a Media Manipulator
Trust Me, I’m Lying: Confessions of a Media Manipulator by Ryan Holiday
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

This book is an easy read with interesting stuff about the ways PR/companies/bloggers/media manipulate each other and the ways fake controversies and outrages end up as news due to the incentives of bloggers to get as many views and clicks as possible without taking time to check and verify. I was already familiar with a lot of the ideas, but the stories and examples were intriguing, as well as many of the details and Holiday’s realizations and regrets about the dark side of the business. At times it can feel repetitive, oversimplified, and exaggerated, but there’s plenty of meat to make it worth your time if you’re interested in blogging, the trustworthiness of the news you read, or anything along those lines.

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Review: When Helping Hurts: How to Alleviate Poverty Without Hurting the Poor . . . and Yourself

When Helping Hurts: How to Alleviate Poverty Without Hurting the Poor . . . and Yourself
When Helping Hurts: How to Alleviate Poverty Without Hurting the Poor . . . and Yourself by Steve Corbett
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

The beginning of the book concisely explains the theology of why Christians should be helping the poor, tying it to general themes of God’s redemption of the world and highlighting the ignoring of the poor as one of the oft overlooked but undeniably major reasons Israel went into exile. The rest of the book expounds upon how to help the poor. Right-leaning readers may like its insistence on overcoming incentives of dependency; left-leaning readers may like its insistence on overcoming superiority complexes of assuming we know best how to help less privileged peoples when we really don’t; all readers should like its combination of common sense, good theology, and personal humility with practical insight into poverty alleviation. I especially liked the suggestion to empower the materially poor by asking “what are your gifts?” instead of “what do you need?” I also liked the bits about savings associations. Overall, this is an imperative read for any Christian involved or interested in helping the poor.

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