Britney (Bebo Norman)

(To listen, click here)

Britney, I'm sorry for the lies we told.
We took you into our arms, then left you cold.
Britney, I'm sorry for this cruel, cruel world.
We sell the beauty but destroy the girl.
Britney, I'm sorry for your broken heart.
We stood aside and watched you fall apart.
I'm sorry we told you fame would fill you up,
And money moves the man, so drink the cup.

I know love goes around the world. We know.
And you never see it coming back.
You never see it coming back.
I know love goes around the world. We know.
And you never see it coming back.
But I can see it coming back for you.
Yes, coming back for you.

Britney, I'm sorry for the stones we throw.
We tear you down just so we can watch the show.
Britney, I'm sorry for the words we say.
We point the finger as you fall from grace.

I know love goes around the world. We know.
And you never see it coming back.
You never see it coming back.
I know love goes around the world. We know.
And you never see it coming back.
But I can see it coming back for you.

Britney, I do believe that love has come.
Here for the broken, here for the ones like us

I know love goes around the world. We know.
And you never see it coming back.
You never see it coming back.
I know love goes around the world. We know.
And you never see it coming back.
But I can see it coming back for you.

It's coming back for you.

---

The Story Behind the Song (in Bebo Norman's own words)
(taken from CCMagazine.com)

"Britney" is a song about what our culture says and does to young women these days. It's a collective apology for the struggle girls face growing up too fast in today's overly adult-oriented world. The song confesses, "I’m sorry for the lies we told / We took you into our arms, then left you cold / I'm sorry for this cruel, cruel world / We sell the beauty but destroy the girl." It's about the lies we tell them: about fame, and money, and what’s beautiful, and what will give them life. It's an apology for those lies. But more than that, it's an invitation to the truth about a God who is bigger than the pain this world so often leaves them in."

"I was up late. Couldn’t sleep, watching some news channel when yet another story about Britney Spears came on. My first instinct was to scoff and write it off. But then there was this freeze-frame shot of a look on her face of utter and absolute despair and confusion and brokenness—a look that I recognized. And I remember thinking, "This girl is a child of God." Suddenly I saw her story not as something to mock but as a real-life tragedy that is desperate for redemption and hope—a story not so different from any of our stories. Take away all the lights and cameras and it's really just a narrative of a girl so clearly in need of love, so clearly in need of the redeeming love of our God."

"And suddenly all I wanted to do was just apologize, over and over. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. On behalf of this fallen world. On behalf of our consumerism that so consistently devours what it wants and leaves the remnants in the wake of the search for the next fix. On behalf of believers, like myself, who mock and hurl stones rather than scribbling a message in the sand."

"I think that night I saw her through the eyes of Jesus for the first time. I imagined what Jesus would say to me in my darkest hour and realized that those are the words we should speak to this world, to this culture—and even to Britney Spears—in their darkest hour. "I'm sorry. Hope is here."

Obama Hatred

"Disgusting," a friend commented on my Facebook profile when the social networking web site publicized my becoming a Barack Obama supporter. I stared at that word for several minutes, dumbfounded. I could not decide how to feel or how to react. I felt a number of conflicting feelings simultaneously, mostly because that person had been my best friend for the last four years and typically had respect for my decisions. I placed my fingers over the keyboard, paused, then pulled them back. I stared at that word again. "Disgusting." It bewildered me. I did not know what to make of it. I went to type a response again, but once again my fingers hovered over the keyboard without moving.

Truly and honestly, I do not get this seeming hatred being directed toward President-elect Obama. I hear it time and again on the news wire, and now I find it among my own social circle. In Kentucky, two men hung Obama in effigy, dangling from a tree with a noose around its neck, recalling the historical images of blacks being lynched in the South. At George Fox University in Oregon, four students were punished for hanging a likeness of Obama from a tree. In Redondo Beach, California., a woman hung Obama in effigy from her balcony with a knife in its neck. In Tennessee two white supremacists were arrested for planning the assassination of Obama. In Clarksville, Indiana, a man had hung Obama in effigy from a tree. In Rexburg, Idaho, a number of elementary school students were chanting on the school bus, "Assassinate Obama! Assassinate Obama!" Also in Idaho, the Bonner Country sheriff and a Secret Service agent will be investigating a man who put up a sign in his yard that said "Free Public Hanging" with a noose hanging in front of it and the name "Obama" just below it.

It is even in my limited social circle. "Disgusting," the comment pointedly stated. I do not understand it.

Carl Sagan & Scientistic Nonsense

If we long to believe that the stars rise and set for us, that we are the reason there is a Universe, does science do us a disservice in deflating our conceits?

Thus wrote Carl Sagan, in the first chapter of The Demon-Haunted World: Science As a Candle in the Dark (Random House, 1996), one of his more popular books which sets out to "explain the scientific method to laymen, and to encourage people to learn critical or skeptical thinking." It is ironic, therefore, to find him here thrusting science into areas unrelated to it and making a fine display of very poor reasoning. Sagan, although he loved science, was certainly not a philosopher, yet both skepticism and critical thinking are philosophical subjects, not scientific ones. As much as I loved Sagan, he really ought to have avoided the folly Dawkins persists in, by keeping aware of his limitations: stick to what he knows, and avoid speaking on things which he clearly was not adequately versed.

It is categorically impossible for science to deflate our conceits (as he put it) when it comes to the issue of whether or not we are the reason there is a Universe. The scientific method empowers us to discover the structure and evolution of the Universe, on the whole as well as its parts, but it has nothing to say about teleology or the reason why the Universe exists. Science simply has nothing to say about the purpose or meaning of any thing; such comes from a different discipline: philosophy, that discipline which is the very foundation upon which science itself is based and from which it is enabled to operate in the first place. Affirming science consistently as the ultimate paradigm of rationality leads inexorably to rank self-stultification whose end is nihilism and the abdication of knowledge and reason altogether.

Science cannot "do us a disservice in deflating our conceits," sir, when it comes to the purpose of the Universe's existence, because science does not do business with purpose or meaning; it can examine certain properties of the Universe but it cannot tell you why the Universe exists, much less rule mankind out as the reason. One can discuss the purpose or meaning of the Universe but to do so is to engage metaphysics, not science.

The Unintelligibility of Godless Ethics

In a strong reaction against the Christian view of values and morals, Tina asserted, "Personally, I view religion as a security blanket with as much correspondence to reality as Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy." I commended her having the good sense to admit that it was a product of personal taste rather than scholarly evaluation; however, when it comes to the larger picture of reality as a whole, her personal tastes have little relevance. Christian theology is something far more substantial; it is "the only view which provides the necessary preconditions for the intelligibility of human experience." It is a very large and brazen argument that myself and others make, demonstrating clearly that Christian theology is far more than just some "security blanket."

"God has nothing to do with ethics or morals," Tina replied. I countered that this factually-phrased statement holds only if you assume that ethics can be adequately and intelligibly accounted for without reference to God. However, under a godless view, ethical norms are non-existent; all that remains are biographical or sociological descriptives. Some people are okay with that. Fine. Speaking for myself, however, I expect an ethical theory to adequately and intelligibly account for evident human experiences like normative values and morals (ethics).

- - -

"It certainly is quite a brazen claim," Peter chimed in. "What's you're evidence for it? Can you prove all other viewpoints to be unintelligible? How would one even know if a viewpoint is intelligible or not?"

First of all, I replied, it should be noted that "the argument" is not really one neat, singular argument but in fact a network of arguments which address various concerns (e.g. ontology, ethics, epistemology, etc) that as a unified whole argues for the same thing.

Second, the argument itself confronts head-on the epistemic assumptions which operate behind the common demand for 'proof' of one thing or another, putting the demand in its proper place. For example, the demand that all items of knowledge must satisfy empirical virtues, understood pejoratively as Scientism (q.v. The Oxford Dictionary of Philosophy), is an epistemology that, when consistently held, abrogates all abstract realities and therefore destroys itself; ultimately it is "a kind of logical fallacy involving improper usage of science or scientific claims," explains Gregory Peterson ("Demarcation and the Scientistic Fallacy." Zygon: Journal of Religion and Science 38 [4], 751-761).

Third, one can know whether or not a viewpoint is intelligible by the very definition of the term itself; i.e. if a viewpoint is not capable of coherently and adequately articulating itself, it is unintelligible. For example, if I ask someone to account for why the law of non-contradiction is universal and they reply, "It just is," then that is an unintelligible answer.

"There have been many societies which had strong ethics and morals that weren't Christian," Peter replied, "societies which never heard of the Christian God."

Practically all human beings recognize a moral order and try to live morally. I do not think that's an issue anyone contests. As I pointed out to earlier, the positive (descriptive) analysis is categorically different from the normative (prescriptive) analysis; in other words, the fundamental issue here is properly and adequately accounting for this curious phenomenon of the human being. Most people will agree that mankind generally recognizes a moral order and tries to live morally; an intelligible theory of ethics needs to adequately account for this phenomenon. A godless theory of ethics is incapable of doing so, because it refuses to permit the tools required to traverse from the 'is' to the 'ought'.

- - -

"Is it necessary to make the traverse from the 'is' to the 'ought' in order for an ethical system to function?" Eric asked. "In other words, do beings need the mythology of a Higher Power over their heads, waving the stick or carrot to enforce moral absolutes, in order to function? Or is there not a moral imperative inherent in their nature that, with their upbringing, will direct them to act in a certain way over an average?"

First, I would say that the traverse is only necessary for those with a concern for adequately and intelligibly accounting for normative statements. If one does not really care about accounting for the phenomenon, if one is content to believe that there is nothing within reality to which normative statements correspond, then no it's not necessary. But since there does exist a common human experience of objective morality (e.g. it is right for one society to charge members of another society with crimes against humanity), then certainly some people do have a concern for an adequate account of it; for such people, "there just is" is neither adequate nor intelligible.

Second, any theory of ethics which grounds moral order in some kind of carrot on a string falls prey to Euthyphro's dilemma and must answer to it.

Third, I agree that there is "a moral imperative inherent in [human] nature," so any adequate theory of ethics will need to account for this phenomenon. However, as many scholars far more able than myself have shown, trying to account for it by way of biological or sociological observations commits the naturalistic fallacy (e.g. George Moore, Principia Ethica). And theories which ignore fallacies fail the test of intelligibility. Furthermore, such naturalistic accounts fail to provide us with moral statements applicable to societies in themselves; i.e. circumstance 'X' might be considered 'good' under this theory because it promotes the health and survival of 'Society A' but it does not allow us to state whether 'Society A' is itself good or not (e.g. the Nazi regime). It also fails to provide a moral justification for 'Society B' involving itself in the affairs of 'Society A'. There are many undercutters such a theory must confront.

"With consideration given to religious behaviors across culture and distance," Eric added, "it seems that no one religion is likely to be more necessary or true than any other."

Behavior is descriptive, I answered, which is categorically different from normative or prescriptive. What a culture is or does is fundamentally different from what it ought to be or do.

Unequally Yoked

In a forum elsewhere, 'Sarah' asked any interested parties to weigh in on the following issue (my response to her follows):

I was having a discussion with a friend of mine a few months ago about spiritual and religious beliefs, and how they relate to your search for a life partner. He maintained that as we get older we get more set in our ways, and because our spiritual beliefs and values go to the core of who we are, these beliefs become more important with time. I argued that it should not be an issue, as long as your partner respects your beliefs. But since then, I am beginning to wonder if maybe he had it right. What is your take on this? Does it matter to you? Or is mutual respect for each other's beliefs sufficient?

For me the issue is 'somewhat important', but nearly pushes into the arena of 'very important'. There are theoretical considerations, but... for me, it was the practical lessons that drove the matter home. I had dated a Wiccan lady some years ago. As a person I thought she was quite delightful—obviously, since I decided to date her—but she eventually proved incapable of reconciling the differences between our convictions. I showed interest in her convictions by studying Wicca at length, its beliefs, rituals, and history, and asking her questions about her unique interpretation of Wicca (as a solitary practitioner). She showed precisely zero interest in my convictions, never bothering to understand me in light of them, its effect and influence on my life as a whole. I felt that was unfair but, in the grand scheme of things, acceptable. But ultimately it was more than just a disinterest on her part; she overtly disrespected my spiritual beliefs and completely failed to appreciate how integral it was to my very identity, which was demonstrated very clearly one fateful day. As we sat on the couch talking one afternoon, she noticed a black book sitting face down on the back of the couch. Curious about what it was, she picked it up and glanced at the cover, which said "Holy Bible." She made a face and a noise of disgust and dropped it back down, wiping her hand off. The relationship did not survive.

So obviously there needs to be a mutual respect between two parties with differing spiritual beliefs (or if one has no spiritual beliefs), but that only really works if the two people are merely dating. I think this is where the issue becomes more poignant and relevant, which might make sense of the realization Sarah is coming to. When the relationship goes beyond mere dating, when it transcends into a domestic covenant (whether marriage or common-law partnership), a mutual respect for each other's spiritual beliefs is no longer sufficient. When a relationship acquires substantial depth, one begins to desire more than just respect; one desires to be understood and to have harmony. And as another participant pointed out, raising a family brings the issue to a salient point, elevating the desire for understanding and harmony to a pronounced need—especially where values and morals are concerned. A pagan and an atheist might inherently agree already on values and morals, but the views of a pagan and a Christian are antithetical on that issue.

When it comes to dating, mutual respect is required. When it comes to a domestic covenant, something more substantial than mutual respect is desired. And when it comes to raising a family, that understanding and harmony goes from being desired to being needed.