One of our readers, Pastor Karl Anderson, alerted me to this recent column by Garrison Keillor, of whom I imagine you’ve heard.

It’s a very odd column, from someone who (I’m told) is a very odd man. The most interesting part is here:

Unitarians listen to the Inner Voice and so they have no creed that they all stand up and recite in unison, and that’s their perfect right, but it is wrong, wrong, wrong to rewrite “Silent Night.” If you don’t believe Jesus was God, OK, go write your own d*mn “Silent Night” and leave ours alone. This is spiritual piracy and cultural elitism and we Christians have stood for it long enough. And all those lousy holiday songs by Jewish guys that trash up the malls every year, Rudolph and the chestnuts and the rest of that dreck. Did one of our guys write “Grab your loafers, come along if you wanna, and we’ll blow that shofar for Rosh Hashanah”? No, we didn’t.

This remarkable passage is notable for being at once gratifying and infuriating. It does my heart good to know that Mr. Keillor cares about the truths of Christianity, the uniqueness of Christ, the importance of the Incarnation, all that culturally inconvenient stuff that makes the difference between true belief and mere sentiment. Good on him for that.

But then he goes on to insult Jewish songwriters (like Johnny Marks, whom Mark Steyn has been eulogizing this season) who write perfectly pleasant, seasonal songs loved by millions, as if propagating some kind of low dose Blood Libel. It’s the sort of out-of-left-field change of argument one expects from a stubborn spouse (or so I’ve heard) who’s in a bad mood and just wants a fight.

I have a theory on what Keillor’s really thinking here. Like most theories (most especially mine) it’s probably wrong, but I’ll wheel it out and let you tell me what you think. Bear in mind that I can claim some insight into Keillor’s mind because, like him, I’m a) a small town Minnesotan by upbringing, b) pathologically shy (though I’ve never figured out how somebody as diffident as he claims to be has managed to be married so many times. Wish I knew where to shop for that kind of shyness), and c) closely associated with Lutheranism. Continue reading Garrison Keillor’s secret celebration →

“Bronchitis,” my doctor says. I’m on antibiotics as of an hour ago, and suddenly I feel very weary. Which is pretty much how I’ve felt for the last three weeks, so it’s really not a change.

I’d like to direct your attention to the Grim’s Hall blog, one of my favorites. They don’t seem to have any mechanism for cutting individual posts out of the herd there, so in order to get to the post I want you to look at, you’ll have to scroll down past Grim’s mention of Joel Leggett’s review of my book. With characteristic modesty, I shall say nothing at all about that.

But down below is a (to me) fascinating post on “The Force of History.” It springboards off a discussion of the very problematic question of Swiss restrictions on minarets, and on to the whole question of how we argue from history, and how people use proofs in their actual, real-life thinking.

Grim says:

These [reasons] are likely to be emotional, not logical: as with our discussions on Aristotle, it is normally the non-rational part of the soul that determines ends. The rational part determines means. All he will learn from your argument is that he needs a different means to his ends.

This strikes me as an important point to understand. Most people don’t reason forward from logic. They reason backward from conclusions that please their feelings, finding proofs to support them.

This is even true of Christian arguments. I’ll go further. It’s probably true of mine as well. I have a vision–an image that ravished my soul when I was a boy–and I’ve chosen chains of reasoning that suit that vision. To betray the vision would be like betraying a woman I love.

I don’t mean to denigrate reason. Reason stands. It is valid. We should work, and work hard, to refine and maintain our logic.

But human beings are not computers. We operate by head and heart, and if we wish to win souls, we must not forget that. C.S. Lewis experienced what could well be described as an intellectual conversion. He was “talked around” by Tolkien and Dyson. But the “bait” in God’s “trap” was Lewis’ fascination with myth. When he saw that myth could be fact as well, Lewis discovered the heart of his own passion, in Jesus Christ.

Stories. Stories are so important. We serve a Lord who was a famous storyteller, and whose life is a famous story.