“Oh…if I had only been there…with my armies behind me…how I would have gotten revenge on the people who killed Jesus…”
~ Clovis, King of the Franks — recently converted to Christianity — perhaps missing the point.
Received via email: “Become a fully ordained church minister within 48 hours. As a lawful minister, you will be authorized to perform the rites and ceremonies of the church! Perform Weddings, Funerals, Perform Baptisms, Forgiveness of Sins, Visit Correctional Facilities. Want to open your own church? Press here…”
There you are, dear reader. Within 48 hours you can — if the advertisement is to be believed — forgive your own sins, and those of others. Whatever it costs, it is surely a bargain. With an ordination in your back pocket, you might even go out and commit more sins this afternoon…and forgive them before dinner.
In no other country we know of, is man’s relationship with the Almighty so convenient. So quick. So easy.
No wonder Americans are so keen on religion. In all of Christendom, no people go to church more often. De Toqueville noticed the connection between Americans’ freedom and Americans’ religion nearly two centuries ago. Without strong religion, he wondered what glue would hold the republic together. The fatal weakness of democracy was no secret; as soon as the masses realized they had the power to vote themselves into other peoples’ pockets there might be no stopping them. All that stood in the way was a sense of right and wrong. As long as America is good, said de Toqueville, it will be great.
We went over to Grace and St. Peter’s church yesterday. What a handsome church it is…and what a relief to find a service in a language we understand. We’re talking about the old lingo of the Episcopal Church, the language of the King James version and the 1928 prayer book. The chants and creeds — the Apostle’s Creed, the Nicene Creed, the Confession, Sanctus, Benedictus — were imprinted on us back in the ’50s. We knew them by heart and recited them easily.
Then, in the late ’70s, a new prayer book decree went out upon all the land. Henceforth, ye shall speak the words of the prophets and the gospels as if they were born yesterday. The result has always sounded strange and foreign to us. Introducing the communion, for example, the priest used to say — “drink ye all of this.” It was changed to “drink this all of you.” In the gospel, where Jesus used to say, “I will make you fishers of men,” the new, diversity edition turns it into “I will make you fish for people,” which always makes us chuckle, since it sounds as if Christians are about to be pan-fried at any moment.
If religion is enjoying a boom in America, you could not prove it at Grace & St. Peter’s. You could have packed all the attendees into a good-sized SUV and had room left over for luggage. Still, the church put on a good show — complete with ‘asperges,’ incense and a sung service. The priest said nothing memorable. But then, we’ve been going to church for more than half a century, and cannot remember a single Episcopal sermon worth hearing.
(By contrast, a brother-in-law — a Southern Baptist minister — always gives a good barnburner of a sermon…) Jesus of Nazareth never went to Harvard, but he had his eyes open. He noticed that life was not nearly as simple as a presidential candidate or stockbroker might lead you to believe. You don’t necessarily get by getting, he pointed out. You get by giving, said he. You don’t find real glory in great works…but in good ones. Nor do you enjoy freedom by casting off all your chains…but by willingly enslaving yourself to Christ. And if you want to live forever, you have to die.
Most people regard these paradoxes with suspicion, if not loathing. But they have so many parallels in nature — and in natural markets — that one suspects they must reflect some hidden architecture to life itself: investors make the most money by buying the most despised assets (those with the lowest prices per dollar of earnings). (The meek inherit the earth.) An investor faces his greatest risk of loss at the very moment when he becomes most sure of himself (pride goeth before a fall). And the most successful investments are those in which investors eventually lose the most money (the first shall be last).
Paradoxes are humbling. They flash like warning signs: “Watch out,” they say, “because the exact opposite of what you think is probably also true.” We caught on to this trick here when we realized that the way to investment success was not by knowing more than the other guy, but by knowing less. Recognizing how little we really knew gave us an investment edge…humility became an advantage, a conceit. It made us feel superior!
The real genius of Christianity is its modesty. It keeps the world improvers from making too much of a mess of things. People — even Christians — are prone to delusion and self-aggrandizement. Too often, they begin to think that they know how to make things better, not just for themselves, but for everyone. They want to be engaged…they want to do something…they want to vote! They boss others around, take their money — calling it ‘fair taxation’ — or bomb the hell out of them. Before you know it, they are no longer good, but corrupt and pathetic.
“Do unto others as you would have them do unto you,” is not only a nice saying to put into needlepoint and hang on your wall, it is also a cautionary platitude. It reminds you that it is better to sweep your own doorstep than to try to change your neighbors’ bad habits. While there is plenty of evil in the world that might be cast out, generally, the best a man can do is to make sure he is not part of it.
Bill Bonner [send him mail] is the author, with Addison Wiggin, of Financial Reckoning Day: Surviving the Soft Depression of The 21st Century.
