Jaroslav Pelikan says (this is an over-simplification, but it’s been a couple decades since I read him) that every generation/culture has used Jesus as a seal of approval for the powers that be. At least since Constantine married church and state. The largest part of my response in this post was giving credit to those Christians who, like Bonhoeffer, stand ready to oppose the status quo, as opposed to those who think God is a magic lantern or ring of power. I’d say that believers who are like Bonhoeffer are true believers, so I’m not sure what you mean by my caricature of true believers. If you mean the meddling fundamentalists who are Talibanesque, I hold them in derision and think they are dangerous. If you mean those who content themselves with doctrinal disputes and trying to evangelize/clone new believers: while they are not the true, Bonhoeffer-like believers, they are generally decent people who just believe something I find strange or silly. They neither are the heroes, like Bonhoeffer, nor the villains like Robertson, Falwell, Haggard, et al.

As for my portrayal of God, I think it’s true to the story I learned as a fundamentalist/evangelical and, when I was younger, as a Catholic. I would love to see a good novelist write a story where the main character behaves toward people like the God of the Hebrew Bible and the New Testament does. Petulant, grudge-bearing, manipulative – and a filicide to boot. Then I’d like to see this writer try to convince their readers that this character is a model whom we should all try to emulate. For the life of me, I can’t understand how I ever was able to read the story without gagging on the idea that the being portrayed therein is admirable, much less worthy of worship. One can, of course, judiciously edit the book and remove references to the more egregious acts or demands of this petty, vengeful deity, and be left with someone just and loving, graceful and forgiving, as you wish. But as it stands, he rivals the gods of the Greek and Roman pantheons for showing all the worst traits of human nature in emphatic fashion. Not only would I not worship such a being; not only would I not befriend him; if I saw him walking toward me in a dark alley, I’d run like hell.

There may be a god of some kind. There are lots of things for which I am grateful, and it would be cool to be grateful to someone. But unnecessary. Ultimately, I don’t care about the existence of a god any more than I care about the existence of life on other planets: both are matters of casual curiosity, unworthy to be the starting point of a discussion, much less a relationship, much less a power relationship, with another human being. Anyone can believe whatever they want about the subject. It doesn’t matter to me, unless they make it the goal of every conversation with me, or try to insist that I must also believe it or, worse, behave in accordance with their beliefs. So long as those boundaries are not crossed, one can believe in a Flying Spaghetti Monster, that we are descended from aliens, that Jesus died and came to America to bring believers magic underwear, that God had a right to cause pain and suffering to people for millennia because their ancestors ate fruit from his favorite tree, or that taping positive words on a bottle of water will infuse it – and the drinker – with those positive qualities, and I will do my best to keep a straight face when they discuss it. What do I know: I’m an agnostic. The craziest stuff in the world may turn out to be true, and 42 may be the answer to everything. I’ll be surprised if, when I get to death, it turns out that there is a second act and death is a mere intermission. But I’m not holding my breath.

Most Westerners will be teaching in Tier 3 institutions if they are lucky and earning $10,000 – $15,000 a year in the back end of beyond with no home comforts to call on, no medical care, and not much else going on.

Going to China in a decent job is whole heck of a lot different from just rocking up and teaching English, and Levine failed to make that clear in his piece.