Lords and ladies,
You are cordially invited to watch the Bill Nye/Ken Ham debate—in two different ways! Yippy!
The first way is by clicking here so you can sign-up for updates and watch it stream live in the comfort of your own home—for free, no less.
Bust out 'em jammies.
The second way is by meeting us at Trinity Presbyterian Church (upstairs in Boniface Hall)—which is, incidentally enough, no less of a free option. In fact, with this particular selection, we all can enjoy some snacks and fellowship to-gether.
Bust out 'em jeans.
Whichever you choose (and, if those are your only options, I recommend that you do choose), remember that the debate starts at seven of the clock, post meridiem Eastern Standard Time, this Tuesday.
Sincerely,
Mike the Belknap
Thursday, January 30, 2014
Tuesday, January 28, 2014
We Now Must Discuss in the Dark.
"Suppose that a great commotion arises in the street about something, let
us say a lamp-post, which many influential persons desire to pull down.
"A grey-clad monk, who is the spirit of the Middle Ages, is approached upon the matter, and begins to say, in the arid manner of the Schoolmen, “Let us first of all consider, my brethren, the value of Light. If Light be in itself good–”
"At this point he is somewhat excusably knocked down.
"All the people make a rush for the lamp-post, the lamp-post is down in ten minutes, and they go about congratulating each other on their unmediaeval practicality. But as things go on they do not work out so easily.
"Some people have pulled the lamp-post down because they wanted the electric light; some because they wanted old iron; some because they wanted darkness, because their deeds were evil. Some thought it not enough of a lamp-post, some too much; some acted because they wanted to smash municipal machinery; some because they wanted to smash something.
"And there is war in the night, no man knowing whom he strikes. So, gradually and inevitably, to-day, to-morrow, or the next day, there comes back the conviction that the monk was right after all, and that all depends on what is the philosophy of Light.
"Only what we might have discussed under the gas-lamp, we now must discuss in the dark" (Chesterton, Heretics).
"A grey-clad monk, who is the spirit of the Middle Ages, is approached upon the matter, and begins to say, in the arid manner of the Schoolmen, “Let us first of all consider, my brethren, the value of Light. If Light be in itself good–”
"At this point he is somewhat excusably knocked down.
"All the people make a rush for the lamp-post, the lamp-post is down in ten minutes, and they go about congratulating each other on their unmediaeval practicality. But as things go on they do not work out so easily.
"Some people have pulled the lamp-post down because they wanted the electric light; some because they wanted old iron; some because they wanted darkness, because their deeds were evil. Some thought it not enough of a lamp-post, some too much; some acted because they wanted to smash municipal machinery; some because they wanted to smash something.
"And there is war in the night, no man knowing whom he strikes. So, gradually and inevitably, to-day, to-morrow, or the next day, there comes back the conviction that the monk was right after all, and that all depends on what is the philosophy of Light.
"Only what we might have discussed under the gas-lamp, we now must discuss in the dark" (Chesterton, Heretics).
Monday, January 27, 2014
That's Okay: I' Make Lamb.
There's
a question I've been asked a number of times in the past, so I
thought it might be fun to address it here. The question usually goes
something like this:
“After the Flood, God told Noah that it was now okay to eat meat. Does that mean animals didn't eat meat prior to the Flood?”
Well, first off, the Scriptures are clear that at creation, everyone and everything was a vegetarian: both humanity (Gen 1:29; cf. 9:3) and the original representatives of the animal “kinds” (1:30)—or archaebaramins, if you will, just to schmancy this place up a bit.
Now, because death is God's payment for breaking His Law (Rom 6:23, 7:7; 1Cor 15:56; 1 Jhn 3:4), we know that there could be no death prior to Adam breaking covenant with God. In other words, if there's no sin of man, then there's no payment for the sin of man. But because Adam did break covenant with God, the negative sanctions of the covenant—called “curses”—were applied. The curses included two types of death—two types of separation: one immediate and the other eventual: the separation of man from God (Gen 3:23-24) and the separation of the soul from the body (Gen 3:19; 5:5).
There were many things besides mankind that were cursed as well. We know from the Genesis account that the ground was cursed, bringing up thorns and thistles (Gen 3:18) and eventually receiving back Adam's body (v. 19), but as Paul explains for us in Romans 8, “the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now” (v. 22), “waiting for the adoption, to wit, the redemption of our body” (v. 23; cf. v. 19). So Adam's sin affected not only his own person and the rest of humanity for whom he federally represented (Rom 5:12; 1 Cor 15:21,22), his sin also affected everything over which he was given dominion (Rom 8:20-21)—or as Paul put it, “the whole creation.” Related to this, Paul explains in 1 Corinthians 15 that men and sentient animals are born into the world as diverse varieties of resurrection seed (vv. 35-44). They live, they die, they're planted, and on the last day, they'll be raised as a great crop at the Harvest (Jhn 5:28-29; 6:39, 40, 44; 11:24; Act 24:15). “For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive” (1 Cor 15:22).
“After the Flood, God told Noah that it was now okay to eat meat. Does that mean animals didn't eat meat prior to the Flood?”
Well, first off, the Scriptures are clear that at creation, everyone and everything was a vegetarian: both humanity (Gen 1:29; cf. 9:3) and the original representatives of the animal “kinds” (1:30)—or archaebaramins, if you will, just to schmancy this place up a bit.
Now, because death is God's payment for breaking His Law (Rom 6:23, 7:7; 1Cor 15:56; 1 Jhn 3:4), we know that there could be no death prior to Adam breaking covenant with God. In other words, if there's no sin of man, then there's no payment for the sin of man. But because Adam did break covenant with God, the negative sanctions of the covenant—called “curses”—were applied. The curses included two types of death—two types of separation: one immediate and the other eventual: the separation of man from God (Gen 3:23-24) and the separation of the soul from the body (Gen 3:19; 5:5).
There were many things besides mankind that were cursed as well. We know from the Genesis account that the ground was cursed, bringing up thorns and thistles (Gen 3:18) and eventually receiving back Adam's body (v. 19), but as Paul explains for us in Romans 8, “the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now” (v. 22), “waiting for the adoption, to wit, the redemption of our body” (v. 23; cf. v. 19). So Adam's sin affected not only his own person and the rest of humanity for whom he federally represented (Rom 5:12; 1 Cor 15:21,22), his sin also affected everything over which he was given dominion (Rom 8:20-21)—or as Paul put it, “the whole creation.” Related to this, Paul explains in 1 Corinthians 15 that men and sentient animals are born into the world as diverse varieties of resurrection seed (vv. 35-44). They live, they die, they're planted, and on the last day, they'll be raised as a great crop at the Harvest (Jhn 5:28-29; 6:39, 40, 44; 11:24; Act 24:15). “For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive” (1 Cor 15:22).
What
we're left with, then, is not only the impossibility of human death
before Adam's sin, but also the impossibility of animal death before
sin. Therefore, we can say with confidence that animals were not
consuming meat at any time prior to the Fall.
So, with that established, if we take a gander at Genesis 9:1-6—the passage alluded to in the initial question—we'll discover a few interested things. We find that, although life-for-life is required of any creature, man or beast, who unlawfully slays an image-bearer (vv. 5-6), when God explicitly addressed the eating of meat after the Flood (vv. 3-4), the proclamation was directed at the people (v. 1) and not the animals. This is why the fear of man was imputed to both the animals that disembarked the Ark and those that remained in the seas (v. 2)—for man was now given a new role: that of the Grill Master. And so it was, dear children, that Texas barbecue was born; mighty meat, meat of renown.
Beyond the Genesis 9 dialog, there are some intriguing bits three chapters back: “And the LORD said, I will destroy man whom I have created from the face of the earth; both man, and beast, and the creeping thing, and the fowls of the air; for it repenteth me that I have made them” (Gen 6:7). I find it interesting that when God said, “it repenteth me that I have made them,” He seemingly includes, “both man, and beast, and the creeping thing, and the fowls of the air.”
So, with that established, if we take a gander at Genesis 9:1-6—the passage alluded to in the initial question—we'll discover a few interested things. We find that, although life-for-life is required of any creature, man or beast, who unlawfully slays an image-bearer (vv. 5-6), when God explicitly addressed the eating of meat after the Flood (vv. 3-4), the proclamation was directed at the people (v. 1) and not the animals. This is why the fear of man was imputed to both the animals that disembarked the Ark and those that remained in the seas (v. 2)—for man was now given a new role: that of the Grill Master. And so it was, dear children, that Texas barbecue was born; mighty meat, meat of renown.
Beyond the Genesis 9 dialog, there are some intriguing bits three chapters back: “And the LORD said, I will destroy man whom I have created from the face of the earth; both man, and beast, and the creeping thing, and the fowls of the air; for it repenteth me that I have made them” (Gen 6:7). I find it interesting that when God said, “it repenteth me that I have made them,” He seemingly includes, “both man, and beast, and the creeping thing, and the fowls of the air.”
Further
along in the same passage we find that, “The earth also was
corrupt before God, and the earth was filled with violence. And God
looked upon the earth, and, behold, it was corrupt; for all flesh had
corrupted his way upon the earth. And God said unto Noah, The end of
all flesh is come before me; for the earth is filled with violence
through them; and, behold, I will destroy them with the earth”
(vv. 11-13).
We actually have external confirmation of this violent world in the form of the fossil record. There we find numerous examples of ambiguous carnivory (like crushed bones in coprolite and even ridiculous Russian doll situations of creatures inside of creatures inside of other creatures), predation (as evidenced by healed bite injuries on prey animals), and even cannibalism. Since these fossils are the mineralized remains of dead animals, we know that they must have died and been buried after the Fall; and with consideration for the conditions necessary for fossilization to occur, it's likely that most of them were buried during the global Flood.
Besides, we also have fossilized thorns and thistles in the fossil record, which, as we've already seen, are Fall-resultant phenomena. (Or do we really think that the Man who became sin for us—the Man who would begin rolling back the curse by conquering death—went to the cross crowned with a trademark of the curse as a matter of pure coincidence? I think not. . .)
So, when all of this is taken together—the objective biblical record of inordinate and universal pre-Flood violence, and the complementary confirmation of violent acts via fossil evidence—I believe this plumps the argument that a number of animals had adopted a carnivorous or omnivorous lifestyle after the Fall but prior to the Flood. This is, incidentally, why the name Carnotaurus ought not be changed to Vegetaurus (what's so special about a "plant-eating bull," anyway?), and why we ought not assume that the great-great-great-grandpappy of Smilidon had a sunny disposition, as the latter's prefix might falsely imply. After all, people, it was still a cat.
And who knows? Perhaps even mankind dabbled unlawfully in the eating of meat prior to the Flood. Should this really surprise us?
A lot more could be said here, but perhaps that's sufficient for now.
We actually have external confirmation of this violent world in the form of the fossil record. There we find numerous examples of ambiguous carnivory (like crushed bones in coprolite and even ridiculous Russian doll situations of creatures inside of creatures inside of other creatures), predation (as evidenced by healed bite injuries on prey animals), and even cannibalism. Since these fossils are the mineralized remains of dead animals, we know that they must have died and been buried after the Fall; and with consideration for the conditions necessary for fossilization to occur, it's likely that most of them were buried during the global Flood.
Besides, we also have fossilized thorns and thistles in the fossil record, which, as we've already seen, are Fall-resultant phenomena. (Or do we really think that the Man who became sin for us—the Man who would begin rolling back the curse by conquering death—went to the cross crowned with a trademark of the curse as a matter of pure coincidence? I think not. . .)
So, when all of this is taken together—the objective biblical record of inordinate and universal pre-Flood violence, and the complementary confirmation of violent acts via fossil evidence—I believe this plumps the argument that a number of animals had adopted a carnivorous or omnivorous lifestyle after the Fall but prior to the Flood. This is, incidentally, why the name Carnotaurus ought not be changed to Vegetaurus (what's so special about a "plant-eating bull," anyway?), and why we ought not assume that the great-great-great-grandpappy of Smilidon had a sunny disposition, as the latter's prefix might falsely imply. After all, people, it was still a cat.
And who knows? Perhaps even mankind dabbled unlawfully in the eating of meat prior to the Flood. Should this really surprise us?
A lot more could be said here, but perhaps that's sufficient for now.
Saturday, January 25, 2014
Offering Tribute to the King.
It
seems that there's been a lot of discussion lately over tithing.
Let's look at some things, shall we?
The concept of tithing was
established prior to the giving of the Mosaic Law.
“And blessed be the most high God, which hath delivered thine enemies into thy hand. And he gave him tithes of all” (Gen 14:20).
“To whom also Abraham gave a tenth part of all; first being by interpretation King of righteousness, and after that also King of Salem, which is, King of peace” (Heb 7:2).
“And this stone, which I have set for
a pillar, shall be God's house: and of all that thou shalt give me I
will surely give the tenth unto thee” (Gen 28:22).
Tithing is a big deal.
“Will a man rob God? Yet ye have
robbed me. But ye say, Wherein have we robbed thee? In tithes and
offerings” (Mal 3:8).
“Woe unto
you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye pay tithe of mint and
anise and cummin, and have omitted the weightier matters of
the law, judgment, mercy, and faith: these ought ye to have done, and
not to leave the other undone” (Mat 23:23).
You are not required to give 10% of
your increase. . . that's a minimum. You're given another option:
that of offering more.
“Let the elders that rule well be
counted worthy of double honour, especially they who labour in the
word and doctrine” (1 Tim 5:17).
Your tithe ought to be at least 10%
of your increase (money earned that you actually see), not 10% of your
pre-theft gross.
“Thou shalt truly tithe all the
increase of thy seed, that the field bringeth forth year by year
“At the end of three years thou shalt bring forth all the tithe of thine increase the same year, and shalt lay it up within thy gates” (Deut 14:22, 28).
“At the end of three years thou shalt bring forth all the tithe of thine increase the same year, and shalt lay it up within thy gates” (Deut 14:22, 28).
“Honour the LORD with thy substance,
and with the firstfruits of all thine increase” (Pro 3:9).
God's principles are different than the world's principles. If you have an increase, then you can afford to tithe because this is God's world, not the imaginary mechanistic world of the secular humanist.
“There is that scattereth, and yet increaseth; and there is that withholdeth more than is meet, but it tendeth to poverty” (Pro 11:24).
There is an argument that we are not required to tithe because “that was the Old Testament.” On the contrary, Paul argues in 1 Corinthians 9 that our respective Christian ministers are to be supported in much the same way that the Levites and priests were in the Old Covenant system.
“Do ye not know that they which minister about holy things live of the things of the temple? and they which wait at the altar are partakers with the altar?
God's principles are different than the world's principles. If you have an increase, then you can afford to tithe because this is God's world, not the imaginary mechanistic world of the secular humanist.
“There is that scattereth, and yet increaseth; and there is that withholdeth more than is meet, but it tendeth to poverty” (Pro 11:24).
There is an argument that we are not required to tithe because “that was the Old Testament.” On the contrary, Paul argues in 1 Corinthians 9 that our respective Christian ministers are to be supported in much the same way that the Levites and priests were in the Old Covenant system.
“Do ye not know that they which minister about holy things live of the things of the temple? and they which wait at the altar are partakers with the altar?
“Even so hath
the Lord ordained that they which preach the gospel should live of
the gospel” (1 Cor 9:13-14; cf. Isa 62:2, 66:20-21).
When Paul makes his case for tithing to the Christians in Corinth and to Timothy, where does he go for support of his assertions? Well, one of the places was an Old Testament law.
“Thou shalt
not muzzle the ox when he treadeth out the corn” (Deu
25:4; cf. 1 Cor 9:9, 1 Tim 5:18).
Indeed, you and I are obligated
before God to take care of our elders.
“no bag for your journey, or two tunics or sandals or a staff, for the laborer deserves his food” (Mat 10:10).
“And remain in the same house, eating
and drinking what they provide, for the laborer deserves his wages.
Do not go from house to house” (Luk 10:7; cf. 1 Tim 5:18, Lev19:13).
“Let the one who is taught the word
share all good things with the one who teaches.
“Do not be deceived: God is not
mocked, for whatever one sows, that will he also reap.
“For he that soweth to his flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption; but he that soweth to the Spirit shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting.
“And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.
“As we have therefore opportunity, let us do good unto all men, especially unto them who are of the household of faith” (Gal 6:6-10).
“For he that soweth to his flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption; but he that soweth to the Spirit shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting.
“And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.
“As we have therefore opportunity, let us do good unto all men, especially unto them who are of the household of faith” (Gal 6:6-10).
. . .and taking care of our elders
means tithing—a word that means “one-tenth.” God is not
mocked.
“Ye are cursed with a curse: for ye have robbed me, even this whole nation” (Mal 3:9).
In summary, of all the money that our King has given us, the only thing He requires back is one-tenth of our increase. With that in our minds, let us offer Him this modest tribute with joy in our hearts and thanksgiving on our lips.
“Ye are cursed with a curse: for ye have robbed me, even this whole nation” (Mal 3:9).
In summary, of all the money that our King has given us, the only thing He requires back is one-tenth of our increase. With that in our minds, let us offer Him this modest tribute with joy in our hearts and thanksgiving on our lips.
Friday, January 24, 2014
The Democracy of the Dead.
“Tradition means giving votes to the most obscure of all classes, our
ancestors. It is the democracy of the dead. Tradition refuses to submit
to that arrogant oligarchy who merely happen to be walking around” (Chesterton, Orthodoxy).
Just Like a Holy Lion is Not a Tame Lion.
"The response which we ordinarily make to a living creature and that
which we make to an inanimate object were here both equally
inappropriate. On the other hand, all those doubts which I had felt
before I entered the cottage as to whether these creatures were friend
or foe, and whether Ransom were a pioneer or a dupe, had for the moment
vanished. My fear was now of another kind. I felt sure that the creature
was what we call 'good,' but I wasn't sure whether I liked 'goodness'
so much as I had supposed. This is a very terrible experience. As long
as what you are afraid of is something evil, you may still hope that the
good may come to your rescue. But suppose you struggle through to the
good and find that it also is dreadful? How if food itself turns out to
be the very thing you can't eat, and home the very place you can't live,
and your very comforter the person who makes you uncomfortable? Then,
indeed, there is no rescue possible: the last card has been played"
(Lewis, Perelandra, p. 17).
Thursday, January 23, 2014
Shhh . . . the church is here now.
Now the point here is not to be superstitious about word usage, and
if someone offers to meet you “at the church,” your response ought not
to be to rebuke them as a vile transgressor. But we do have to remember
that the altar sanctifies the gold and not the other way around. When
the saints start to come in for the service, the building should say,
“Shhh . . . the church is here now.” The saints should not say, “Shhh . .
. you’re in church now.” The building is not God’s mausoleum (from Working on a Building II).
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
Theological Apple Canker.
Recently, some friends of mine and I debated
the question, "Is the Roman Catholic Church a true church?"
Most answered or leaned in the direction of the negative, though the conversation was decidedly absent of any references to antichrist. Funny, that. . .
Anyway, with this in mind, I thought it might be fun to present you with the results of my own neuron duel (you see, I get by with two). I'll be interested to hear your thoughts as well, so feel free toeither enter those in the comments below or corner me in a dark alley.
Alright, so lemme just dive right in by saying that I believe the RCC is truly a part of the catholic Church—it is a branch legitimately connected to the Vine, to borrow an analogy I read some place—so in that way—in an organic covenantal way—it is a true church of Christ. As exhibit A, I present to you that the RCC is genuinely trinitarian, and as exhibit B, I present to you that it holds to the ancient Christian creeds. Basic orthodoxy, baby.
That said, I now wish to say what I am not saying. What I am not saying is that the veneration of departed saints or meritorious acts of super-irrigation or sacerdotalism or purgatory or whatnot are meh, because they really must be dealt with. What I am saying, however, is that, though the RCC is sick, it isn't dead. So while it's not the most seemly branch, it is still a branch; and though some may argue that it hasn't looked much like True Israel in some time, it is still, at the very least, Israel.
In other words, while the RCC is, as a corporate entity, dangerously close to becoming Billy the Apostate, the Session has yet to finish the proceedings on his excommunication. These things take time, you know. For, the Roman lampstand still remains in place—it's not hard to see that—and its body is composed of members actually baptized in the triune Name, not just a formulation of the Name. These people are actually given the Name of God—in other words, they are Christians. At the same time, the RCC is, on the whole, in a bad way. So while the church continues to post Dawkins quotes on Facebook, figuratively speaking, it is nevertheless still a part of the Body.
Now, I think we all would admit that on the living Vine there can be dead branches—branches that don't produce fruit. I am simply arguing here that the RCC is, as a corporate entity, one of the sickly branches—one struck with a bad case of the theological Apple Canker. But taking the analogy further, because I believe the world is what Lewis described rather than what Wells described, I believe it is possible for God to grow life-filled shoots from an infected branch; that it is indeed possible for God to make wheat out of tares, little boys out of dragons, and sheep out of goats (or pigs—take your pick), and that He can do it anywhere. And I believe this, not on the authority of Clive Staples Lewis, but because the Word tells me that the true God is a God of resurrection and all of His raw material is already dead. Notice that this means the shoots are alive in spite of not only their canker-ridden branch, but also in spite of themselves; the wheat is not wheat because the tare made it so, just as the wheat is not wheat because it made itself so. A dragon can't undragon itself, and a pig doesn't become a sheep just because we hose it off.
That said, like bad company, bad doctrine corrupts good morals, so then it seems best to me that the living shoots on the decaying branch should be removed and grafted into a healthier branch. If a shoot is to yield healthy fruit, then the viability of its source of nutrients matters greatly—particularly in the long run. Since dead branches are eventually snipped of and cast into the fire (and it seems that sickly branches are in the awful habit of dying), to remain in a branch experiencing such radical decline is, well, folly.
As for all you healthier-branchers out there, I'll offer both an exhortation and a warning. First, the exhortation. If you know some RCCers—or better, any sicklier-branchers—do this: embrace them as brothers and encourage them to leave, for Dodge is what they need to get the heck out of.
Second, don't put on 1st-Century Roman airs in regards to 21st-Century Romans. Put another way, don't be arrogant about the fact that your branch is healthier than that other guy's branch. After all, how do you think his branch got that way?
Anyway, with this in mind, I thought it might be fun to present you with the results of my own neuron duel (you see, I get by with two). I'll be interested to hear your thoughts as well, so feel free to
Alright, so lemme just dive right in by saying that I believe the RCC is truly a part of the catholic Church—it is a branch legitimately connected to the Vine, to borrow an analogy I read some place—so in that way—in an organic covenantal way—it is a true church of Christ. As exhibit A, I present to you that the RCC is genuinely trinitarian, and as exhibit B, I present to you that it holds to the ancient Christian creeds. Basic orthodoxy, baby.
That said, I now wish to say what I am not saying. What I am not saying is that the veneration of departed saints or meritorious acts of super-irrigation or sacerdotalism or purgatory or whatnot are meh, because they really must be dealt with. What I am saying, however, is that, though the RCC is sick, it isn't dead. So while it's not the most seemly branch, it is still a branch; and though some may argue that it hasn't looked much like True Israel in some time, it is still, at the very least, Israel.
In other words, while the RCC is, as a corporate entity, dangerously close to becoming Billy the Apostate, the Session has yet to finish the proceedings on his excommunication. These things take time, you know. For, the Roman lampstand still remains in place—it's not hard to see that—and its body is composed of members actually baptized in the triune Name, not just a formulation of the Name. These people are actually given the Name of God—in other words, they are Christians. At the same time, the RCC is, on the whole, in a bad way. So while the church continues to post Dawkins quotes on Facebook, figuratively speaking, it is nevertheless still a part of the Body.
Now, I think we all would admit that on the living Vine there can be dead branches—branches that don't produce fruit. I am simply arguing here that the RCC is, as a corporate entity, one of the sickly branches—one struck with a bad case of the theological Apple Canker. But taking the analogy further, because I believe the world is what Lewis described rather than what Wells described, I believe it is possible for God to grow life-filled shoots from an infected branch; that it is indeed possible for God to make wheat out of tares, little boys out of dragons, and sheep out of goats (or pigs—take your pick), and that He can do it anywhere. And I believe this, not on the authority of Clive Staples Lewis, but because the Word tells me that the true God is a God of resurrection and all of His raw material is already dead. Notice that this means the shoots are alive in spite of not only their canker-ridden branch, but also in spite of themselves; the wheat is not wheat because the tare made it so, just as the wheat is not wheat because it made itself so. A dragon can't undragon itself, and a pig doesn't become a sheep just because we hose it off.
That said, like bad company, bad doctrine corrupts good morals, so then it seems best to me that the living shoots on the decaying branch should be removed and grafted into a healthier branch. If a shoot is to yield healthy fruit, then the viability of its source of nutrients matters greatly—particularly in the long run. Since dead branches are eventually snipped of and cast into the fire (and it seems that sickly branches are in the awful habit of dying), to remain in a branch experiencing such radical decline is, well, folly.
As for all you healthier-branchers out there, I'll offer both an exhortation and a warning. First, the exhortation. If you know some RCCers—or better, any sicklier-branchers—do this: embrace them as brothers and encourage them to leave, for Dodge is what they need to get the heck out of.
Second, don't put on 1st-Century Roman airs in regards to 21st-Century Romans. Put another way, don't be arrogant about the fact that your branch is healthier than that other guy's branch. After all, how do you think his branch got that way?
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