Some things are hard to wash off

Not that long ago millions of Iraqi men and women boldly took to the streets, eager to vote for freedom and a chance to shape their own lives, and proud to show off their purple fingers, dipped in die as a simple way to prevent voter fraud but also perfect for delivering a collective poke in the eye to terror and tyranny.

I try to remember their faces and fingers as the media machine clanks and hums, blowing smoke and steam into its depiction of gang warfare as a civil war. The purple fingers were not enough to prevent fraud of outrageous proportions; a small but deadly minority subverts the will of the people and the efforts of a fledgling government, intimidating the majority not just with violence but with the idea that the forces standing for Reason and Order will themselves be cowed and will again abandon the innocent to the protection of paper treaties holding back a cyclone of hate. The brutal few are aided by the symbiotic complicitness of foreign media and political elements with their own desire to overthrow a government and replace it with something less of a hindrance to its own thirst for power and right-thinking, regardless of the cost to a country as a whole. Small wonder there are those who wring their hands while they still may, and reach for the soap to remove the tincture.

There are some things you get on your hands, however, that can never be washed off, as Michael Yon reminds us in his post No Darker Heart:

A Killing Field, Cambodia
After the monsoon rains abate, the draining earth offers up fragments of clothing, human teeth and bones as final testimony of the restless, wronged dead. Murdered on this now sacred ground, thirty or more years ago, they are among the millions of souls sacrificed to a fevered ideology that was completely broken only a decade ago. The remains that seep up through the mud under my feet in this Killing Field are from a different war, but they echo a mournful reminder of how jarringly common it is for societies at war with themselves to descend into madness. Death squads under holy orders, suicide bombers in mosques, machete-wielding mobs in Rwanda, industrialized gas chambers in Europe, fire-breathing Janjaweed militias in Darfur, and here the tree named for its function as “killing tree against which executioners beat children.”

Powerful, philosophical memes, forever pulsing through human populations, are never far from pushing us to some brink. The best memes land people on the moon; they create more cures than afflictions, more freedoms than restrictions, more heroes than villains, more hope than despair. These memes tend to pump knowledge into the human mind rather than vacuum it out. Perhaps memes are just memes, philosophies just philosophies, mental scripts piled atop mental scripts much as we build upon the lands where our ancestors lived and died. I once spent two days coursing down the Mekong River deep into Laos, wondering who had gone before me, and how many times humans have reinvented the boat. Today, we walk across the bridges, a concept others imagined then built, and we walk along trails and routes that have lasted for centuries or millennia, all while making new connections. Some trails lead to Hell.

Despite that many paths are clearly marked “This fork to Hell: Take right fork to nicer place,” a herd inertia prevents stopping long enough to read the signs or heed the caution. Signs appear in many forms, but they are always there. Jets crashing into buildings, yellow stars on lapels, people disappearing into the night, mass graves appearing on the edge of town, official languages, and always, the silent assent of enough people greasing the sides of the slope: visit enough genocide memorials in Germany or Poland or here and the patterns of pathology present themselves.

Here in the sweltering jungles of Cambodia, the educated, cultural elite Pol Pot and his Khmer Rouge denizens perpetrated horrors ranging from ripping off nipples with pliers to vivisection, all part of a master plan to create a Utopia cleansed of all impurities of Western influence. Although Cambodia had been an ally of the West, during Cambodia’s years of darkness the eyes of world leaders were studiously averted, providing complicit cover for a charismatic zealot to excavate along ancient cultural divides and exploit rich veins of resentment.

Read the whole thing.

What makes a church?

The leadership of the Episcopal Church of America is finding that Biblical authority trumps church authority in the home of some of its oldest, largest and most influential churches. Over the weekend eight Northern Virginia churches, upset with the denomination’s decisions to ordain a gay bishop and sanction same-sex marriages, voted overwhelmingly to leave the Episcopal Diocese of Virginia and affiliate with the Convocation of Anglicans in North America (CANA), under the authority of a Nigerian bishop.

The departing congregations comprise about 10 percent of the diocese’s 90,000 members and about 17 percent of the 32,000 people in the pew on an average Sunday. Virginia Episcopalians have been in an ecclesiastical civil war since the 2003 consecration of New Hampshire Bishop V. Gene Robinson, an active homosexual, with the support of Virginia Bishop Peter J. Lee.

“I wasn’t at all surprised,” said Kim Cooke, a former vestry member. “This church has always made a point of being faithful to the Scriptures and God. When faced with a choice between man and God, it was an easy choice.”

“I am thrilled at the results,” longtime member Judy Thomsen said. “I think we need to move on.”

Doctrine is at the heart of the matter, but there are issues of authority and insubordination … and some very expensive real estate. The Episcopal Bishop of Virginia struck a strident note, saying there are “Nigerian congregations occupying Episcopal churches.” With respect to the bishop, next week it will be the same people sitting in the same pews as last week, inside the same buildings that have been there for decades (centuries in some cases), reading from the same Bible of the ages. The only thing that has changed are the philosophies of the denominational leadership that believes the will of God is determined by ballot rather than scripture; in turn their flocks have voted with their feet.

No doubt it will get ugly. According to Robert at The Llama Butchers, the Denomination is taking a hard-line with its rectors, insisting on obedience, with lawsuits, salaries and pensions at stake. Robert is a vestry-member at his Episcopal church in the Washington, D.C. area and his rector wants nothing to do with the dispute. Nevertheless, Rob feels he has to make a stand:

The Church has reached the point where each and every Episcopalian has to know exactly what is going on, in order to make for him- or herself a fully informed decision about where he or she is going to go. “Eyes front, mind your own business and do what you’re told,” is not, I think, the tone the Rector ought to be taking. And I also don’t think the parish should be relying on the Official Party Line as served up by the Rector as its sole source of news and opinion.

So. At tomorrow night’s meeting, I am going to propose that a committee be set up, the purpose being to gather and collate news and opinion pertinent to the Church’s ongoing controversies and to find means by which to disseminate such news to members of the congregation. I’m going to insist that such committee be independant of the Rector’s oversight or control and that its membership be politically and theologically balanced.

I am also going to get shot down in flames, of course. But I’m beginning to get angry enough that I don’t really care. If I can’t get official sanction for such a project, then I’ll do it off my own bat. And if I get threatened with personal liability as a vestryman for spreading alarum and confusion, I’ll quit and carry on as a private parishioner.

The Rector mentioned in an email to me the other day that he wanted to make sure my energies as a vestry member were being directed to areas for which I felt a passion. Well, dammit, I think I’ve found just the ticket.

God bless.

Filings: Warp factor

Yesterday’s post about extremism and the ensuing comments got me to thinking again about the culture wars. I remembered how my family used to make it a point to watch “Star Trek: the Next Generation” when there were still new episodes. We loved the characters and the writing, the imagination and the mostly discrete sexuality of the show. It also had a very edifying vision of human virtue and potential.

The only problem I had with the program was that this vision of human potential was based on the Secular Humanist views of its creator, Gene Roddenberry. Yes, we would all like to live in a world where everyone demonstrates love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control as the characters in ST:TNG did. Roddenberry, however, saw this occurring through self-directed human evolution while I, as a Christian recognize these traits as fruit of the spirit imparted by God and developed through a personal commitment to renew my mind as I transform myself in order to be more like Jesus.

It may appear that the Christians and Humanists have a similar vision. There is a difference in how we go about fulfilling that vision, however.

As a Christian, I use God’s word as a standard to strive for and measure myself against. It’s not based on feelings, polls or my own thoughts about what is right and what is wrong. Today’s culture may hold out a vision of ennobling evolution — while at the same time saying that any type of standard (except for their own) is merely a prejudice. Maybe that’s why I as Christians can hope to see a change in myself within my lifetime, while Roddenberry’s super-humans don’t get it until the 25th century.

I see the human soul as being made up of our mind, will and emotions — and as being something that needs to be disciplined in order to exalt God. It seems to me that Humanists see the soul as the thing to be exalted – and that excellence can be achieved by indulgence. My focus is to improve the individual so the individual can effect society; Humanists try to change society so that it can affect the individual. They label as intolerant, unprogressive and “out of the mainstream” any discussion of morality when it comes to personal behavior and responsibility (except when they refer to what you do with your wealth and private property). Meanwhile, you can do whatever you want with your body, or whoever else’s body you can get to along with your program.

Let me, finally, get to the point. Despite my self-indulgent and even extremist rant, the Humanists are really irrelevant to a Christian’s own spiritual growth. Sure, they may pollute the culture with their illogical approach, but even if we “win” the cultural and political war we gain little but breathing room. That’s because Christ’s example is always from the “inside out.” While I would like to see a day when the culture around us is more wholesome, that in and of itself will not release us from our spiritual obligation to become more like Christ and to continually work out our salvation. In fact it may even invite a complacency that could be terminal — to us and ultimately to our culture.

Our individual commitment to tending the fruit of the spirit in our own lives — and to helping these develop in other people’s lives — must be unchanged regardless of what is going on around us, no matter how good or how bad it looks. We cannot look back longingly for “the good old days” or wait expectantly for the wonders of the 25th century because Christ is the same yesterday, today and tomorrow. “What would Jesus do?” is the wrong question. Better for me to ask, “What is Jesus doing?” and make sure I’m a part of it.

Filings is an ongoing section of this blog where the posts focus specifically on issues of Christian life. The name comes about because “filings” are the natural by-product of Proverbs 27:17: “as iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another.”

Extremely interesting

I recently acquired a book entitled “A Year With C.S. Lewis” which features short, daily excerpts from many of his great works. I thought this morning’s excerpt was especially apt.

It’s from The Screwtape Letters, the book where Screwtape, a senior demon in Hell, counsels his young nephew, Wormwood, on how to best distract and deceive the human he’s been assigned. This particular missive focuses on the value of extremism in faith … or by extension, politics…football…blogging…

To the Extreme
Screwtape explains the usefulness of extremism:
I had not forgotten my promise to consider whether we should make the patient an extreme patriot or an extreme pacifist. All extremes, except extreme devotion to the Enemy, are to be encouraged. Not always, of course, but at this period. Some ages are lukewarm and complacent, and then it is our business to soothe them yet faster asleep. Other ages, of which the present is one, are unbalanced and prone to faction, and it is our business to inflame them. Any small coterie, bound together by some interest which other men dislike or ignore, tends to develop inside itself a hothouse mutual admiration, and towards the outer world, a great deal of pride and hatred which is entertained without shame because the ‘Cause’ is its sponsor and it is thought to be impersonal. Even when the little group exists originally for the Enemy’s own purposes, this remains true. We want the Church to be small not only that fewer men may know the Enemy but also that those who do may acquire the uneasy intensity and the defensive self-righteousness of a secret society or a clique. The Church herself is, of course, heavily defended and we have never yet quite succeeded in giving her all the characteristics of a faction; but subordinate factions within her have often produced admirable results, from the parties of Paul and of Apollos at Corinth down to the High and Low parties in the Church of England…

Wombs with a view

Football wasn’t the only thing on the tube yesterday as I found myself pulled away from ESPN and NFL Network game highlights to watch the National Geographic Channel’s program, “In the Womb: Animals.” Using the latest 4D ultrasound imaging, state-of-the-art cameras and computer graphics the 2-hour program took us through the stages from conception to birth of yellow labradors, elephants and dolphins as they developed in their mothers’ wombs.

The elephant goes from a single cell to a 260+ pound “baby”; the dolphin learns to swim before it is born and the dog also showed full-grown dog behavior while still in utero. The film work, showing color and movement, is spectacular and engrossing (and sometimes just gross, based on some of the Mall Diva’s reactions). When you see the amazing close-ups and sharp detail of these developing species it is impossible not to think about the implications if the National Geographic Channel should devote the same study to comparable stages of human babies — pardon me, fetuses. As I watched the program I even thought outloud how great it would be if they used the same technology to cover human development, but I figured that would be anathema to contemporary thought and too controversial. Still, I was happy that this program was available as it couldn’t help but make anyone watching it pause to think.

I was therefore pleasantly surprised — nay, thrilled — to learn that NGC in fact had already kicked off their series back in November with a study of human infants in the womb, and is planning to carry another “In the Womb” program in January featuring the development of human twins (maybe even triplets), including film of the unborn children playing, fighting and cuddling. (More details here). I’m definitely going to check my listings for repeats of the first show and the broadcast schedule for the upcoming one.

The footage in these programs is absolutely devastating to the “blob of tissue” arguments that persist mainly because people don’t want to — or haven’t been able to — see the truth for themselves. There’s also something else in last night’s program that was plain to see: intelligent design.

While the narrator went on and on about evolutionary development and millions of years of random coincidences that led to these “miracles of birth” in each of the animals, when you see the process up close like this — and give it even a moment’s thought — it’s impossible (for me, anyway) to believe each of these tiny but crucial steps could have happened by accident. For example, how does a dog’s uterus “know” how to contract in such a way as to place and attach each puppy embryo an equal distance apart inside its walls? Yes, I know what the evolutionary models (and the narrator) say, but to cling to that despite the evidence of my own eyes seems to require an even greater leap of faith than what my superstitious mind is accused of making. But that’s just me; you can come to your own conclusions. The important thing is that you take the time to watch this incredible series for yourself.

Note: how detailed is 4D ultrasound imaging? Here’s a sample (the images and in utero photography on the NGC program are even more dramatic). You can see more images like this over here.

Can you judge a Good Book by its cover?

According to an article in yesterday’s Wall Street Journal (subscription required), Bible sales have been booming the last few years, driven in no small part by an interest in aesthetics as much as ethics. The basic black Bible, austere as a Quaker, is emerging like a butterfly from its conservative cocoon.

Always a dependable seller, the Bible is in the midst of a boom. Christian bookstores had a 25% increase in sales of Scriptures from 2003 to 2005, according to statistics gathered by the Phoenix, Ariz.-based Evangelical Christian Publishers Association, a trade group. General-interest bookstores, while declining to give figures, have also seen increasingly strong sales. “Bibles are a growth area for us and we’re giving them more space in our stores,” said Jane Love, religion buyer for Barnes & Noble. “It’s partly because of the way they’ve evolved over the last three or four years.”

Indeed, publishers like Thomas Nelson; Grand Rapids, Mich.-based Zondervan; and Tyndale House in Carol Stream, Ill. — which together represent an estimated 80% of the Bible market — have gone far beyond offering the Scriptures between black, burgundy, navy or white covers.

“For a long time the Bible was just the Bible,” noted Kevin O’Brien, director of Bibles at Tyndale House. “You put it out there and people bought it. They didn’t ask about the options, because there weren’t any options. But now, especially in evangelical circles, people are seeing their lives not just in color but high-definition color, and they want the Bible to fit in with that. This is not your mother’s Bible.”

Actually, I use my grandmother’s Bible. It’s big, black and weighs about two pounds, but it has really large type that allows me to read a scripture reference in church without putting on my reading glasses. It also has reproductions of great, classic religious paintings. Oh, and it’s the King James version, which, of course, is the Bible officially used by Jesus. How I doth love it!

Thus, following the gospel of Seventh Avenue, publishers are displaying their wares in the season’s hot colors. “This year alone I’ve seen four shades of purple,” said Ms. Love, whose stores have also done well with two-tone Bibles. The pink and brown model has been particularly popular. Bibles are also available in the colors of your college, with a fur cover, a flower-patterned cover, and to appeal to young adherents, with a camouflage cover, a metal cover and a duct-tape cover. Next spring Tyndale House will be bringing out a paperback Bible in a plastic case that looks like a flattened Nalgene bottle.

But Bibles are becoming as much personal statements as fashion statements. “What people are saying is ‘I want to find a Bible that is really me,” noted Rodney Hatfield, a vice president of marketing at Thomas Nelson. “It’s no different than with anything else in our culture.”

It used to be just carrying a Bible said enough about you; now we need one that is “really me”? Oh well, whatever rubs your Buddha, I mean, whatever floats your boat, as long as people care as much about what is inside the covers as they do about the covers themselves. Besides Grandma’s Good Book, over the years I’ve owned and got a lot out of the New King James Version, the NIV and The Living Bible, and I do like to pick up my JB Phillips New Testament in Modern English from time to time. The most useful for me now, however, is the on-line Blue Letter Bible with its Search tools and multiple translations at the click of a mouse.

Using the Blue Letter Bible I can quickly search and compare 2 Timothy 3:16-17 in both the King James:

All scripture [is] given by inspiration of God, and [is] profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness: That the man of God may be perfect, throughly furnished unto all good works.

And the New Living Translation:

All Scripture is inspired by God and is useful to teach us what is true and to make us realize what is wrong in our lives. It straightens us out and teaches us to do what is right. It is God’s way of preparing us in every way, fully equipped for every good thing God wants us to do.

Good stuff, that. Wish I had written it.

Filings: Rich kids

You must each make up your own mind as to how much you should give. Don’t give reluctantly or in response to pressure. For God loves the person who gives cheerfully. And God will generously provide all you need. Then you will always have everything you need and plenty left over to share with others. As the Scriptures say,

“Godly people give generously to the poor.
Their good deeds will never be forgotten.”

— 2 Corinthians 9: 7-9 (New Living Translation)

When Tiger Lilly was six years old she saw the advertisement in the newspaper for the Union Gospel Mission’s annual Thanksgiving banquet for the homeless. She studied the photo of the elderly man with the long beard and old clothes. She read the headline that said just $1.79 would provide a full Thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmings to a hungry person. She looked at me.

I have $1.79,” she said, with some amazement. “I can buy someone’s dinner!” I sent her upstairs to get her bank to be sure. There were a few bills in there and a lot of coins, and she methodically counted out the full amount. I kept my face non-commital as I asked her if she was sure she wanted to give that money, since it represented a lot of what she had in her bank. She was positive. I had her get an envelope to put the money into and that afternoon we drove over to the Mission. I could have simply written a check covering her contribution along with a larger one from my wife and I and mailed it in, but the Mission isn’t far from our house and I wanted her to see where the money was going and have the personal connection of seeing the real people she was helping. We went inside and the chaplain there was an acquaintance of mine. He wasn’t used to receiving direct contributions, but he took us into his small office, collected Tiger Lilly’s envelope, earnestly wrote her a receipt and thanked her for her for giving, saying how much it would mean to someone.

I remembered that episode last week when I read the article in the Wall Street Journal (subscription required) by Arthur C. Brooks analyzing the results of the Social Capital Community Benchmark Survey. According to these results, 85 million U.S. households give money each year to non-profit organizations, while 30 million households do not. The differences between these two groups is not based on income, but on political and religious outlook, with conservatives and people of faith being the ones most likely to give and to volunteer. Besides giving to non-profits, this charity extends to giving to friends and neighbors and even to propensity to donate blood.

The article observed that some might be surprised by the discrepancy in the giving habits between conservatives and liberals given the stereotype of the heartlessness of the right. And of course it is common knowledge that religious people are all hypocrites. I wasn’t surprised, however. Many of the people I know are always open and willing to help meet a need; they draw the line at institutionalizing one, however.

To some extent this may be due to believing there’s something beyond yourself that you need to be accountable to. It can be highly motivational if you truly believe that one day you’re going to stand before God and give an account for yourself. (And, as I’ve written here before, if God asks me if I gave to the poor I don’t think he’ll be impressed if I say, “Well, I paid my taxes.”) But as 2 Corinthians says up above, it us up to each of us to choose what to give and that if we give cheerfully He will provide everything we need. It is the evidence of the latter in my life that leads me to give cheerfully, not out of a desire to receive more but out of the confidence that God will give me the means to give (providing seed to the sower as it says in verse 10). In contrast, what is the state of your heart and the measure of your actions if you believe there’s never enough of anything to go around unless it’s taken from another?

Giving is important because it’s what God wants us to do, but taxes are the government deciding who can afford to give, and the repercussions of that affect more than just the wealthy; even to the point of hurting the working poor by stifling the economy. “Free will” (or “free market”) giving, where the individual is responsible to decide how much he or she will give (or not give) is different. It also doesn’t set up stultifying and self-perpetuating bureaucracies that don’t have the incentive to ferret out fraud.

One of the greatest satisfactions of my life has been seeing my daughters grasp this important principle naturally from an early age. They’ve been tithers from the time they first received money and givers for as long as they can remember, and not just from obedience but out of joy. I remember how much they loved to put the money in the Salvation Army’s red buckets everytime we saw one when they were little, and the five-year-old Tiger Lilly spontaneously giving a dollar of her own money toward the 10-year-old Mall Diva’s first missions trip. I’ve observed the thoughtfulness and joy they’ve put into filling shoeboxes for Operation Christmas Child each year, and watched them get involved with organizations such as Samaritan’s Purse and Soldier’s Angels, and Operation Starfish where the Mall Diva is helping a young mother develop the life skills she needs to provide for her family. The neatest thing, however, is that they don’t have to have a program or some official ministry to get involved in in order to give; whether it’s time, money, encouragement or, occasionally, blunt advice, they give easily out of their abundance of spirit to their friends and others.

So why do I feel like the one who’s rich?

Filings is an ongoing section of this blog where the posts focus specifically on issues of Christian life. The name comes about because “filings” are the natural by-product of Proverbs 27:17: “as iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another.”

Oh, boy

There was a story in the newspaper last week just before I left town that kept going through my mind. It was about a 16-year-old boy who was on the run from his home and from the juvenile authorities and who was upset that — for some strange reason — his girlfriend’s father wouldn’t let them see each other. Therefore he got a gun, went to his girlfriend’s house where the father was alone, confronted the man and put the gun to his own head and threatened to shoot himself if the father wouldn’t let them be together.

Boy, just when you think you’re going to have a problem…

I’m thinking that if it’s me I’d say something like, “Don’t pull that trigger, son! You want to squeeeeze it gently or you might miss.”

Okay, I probably wouldn’t say that. I’d probably think it, but I wouldn’t say it. Maybe. I’m generally a pretty compassionate guy, and I know that this story involves a real kid who obviously has some real problems, and I pray he gets some real help. Who knows, I may even meet him some day, though you can be pretty sure he wouldn’t make it through the first interview if he had any thoughts of achieving “boyfriend” status and hadn’t picked up a clue or two along the way. If someone showed up around here drinking self-pity out of a sippy cup and thinking he had a “right” to see my daughter then his self-esteem is probably the first thing that’s going to be hurt. And don’t tell me that that kind of attitude on his part reflects low self-esteem; it shows that it’s really all about him — and believe me, that’s not someone who thinks too little of himself.

What I’m looking for is a return to “honorable intentions” and the awareness that certain things have to be earned, and a willingness to do so. Would you spend years carefully maintaining your SUV, waxing and washing it, only to have some joker think he can jump in and take it off-roading with barely a “by-your-leave”, let alone a promise to have it back by ten?

Of course, a SUV doesn’t have much of a say in the matter, whereas a daughter might. There’s no question I’ve got a paternalistic outlook, which is another word that has fallen into disfavor these days, but I don’t apologize for it when it comes to my daughters. Look, I’ve changed the diapers, paid for the braces and educations, sat them on my knee and put them across it as necessary and not because they are “mine” but because I know that ultimately they’re Someone else’s, just as I am. They know what loves looks like, so they don’t have to go around trying to find it from others. They know the value I put on them and they know my values; along the way, if I’ve done my job, those values have grown inside them to be better armor than any I can put around them. The high expectations aren’t just mine now.

Readin’, Writin’ and Writhing

A couple of years ago my wife served as a chaperone for a local high school prom (go here for the whole story). It was an experience that affirmed our commitment to home-education and heightened our concerns for the well-being of the coming generation:

My wife also made it home from her chaperone assignment without falling asleep, largely due to the startling effect of watching what passes for dancing these days. You see, there’s this thing called “freak” dancing – because it “freaks” parents out, I think – that involves a young lady(?) placing her fundament against her escort’s crotch and both of them vigorously gyrating (music optional). It appears that girls have finally found a way to get the boys out on the dance floor. My wife felt as if she should get out on the floor as well, but with a bucket of water or a garden hose. She settled for prayer instead. It kind of makes the old notion of a guy hoping for a goodnight kiss seem a bit quaint, doesn’t it? I mean, after three hours of something like that with teenaged nerve endings a peck on the cheek would be – oh, shall we say – anti-climactic?

When I was in high school you could be suspended for PDAs (Public Displays of Affection) on school grounds (and yes, we thought it was silly and unfair and an example of adult narrow-mindedness). Our old high school principal would say “You know what holding hands and playing licky-face leads to — No Good!” Thirty years later perhaps we’re seeing what else it leads to. I do question, however, how much “affection” this type of dancing, er, entails.

Just as I was pacing out the dimensions of an ark in my backyard, though, I saw this story in the St. Paul paper this week that suggests that rather than indifference or benign sanction, school officials are trying to clean things up.

For students at Central High School in St. Paul, this fall’s homecoming was nothing like the dances of years past.

It was held in the vast space of the school’s gym rather than the cafeteria, the lights were kept on, and administrators walked around shining flashlights to separate couples who got too close.

“It’s really awful,” said junior Laura Mohn of the new rules. “It’s not right. It’s not fun.”

“This is not how it’s supposed to be,” complained junior Daniel Chahla.

Central is one of several schools in the metro area cracking down on dance behavior that some administrators say has become borderline obscene.

Inspired by popular music and videos, “grinding” or “club dancing” or “twerking” — in which girls swivel their buttocks into boys’ crotches — has been around for several years. But it’s become so blatant and widespread at school dances, officials say, that they’re having trouble lining up adults willing to chaperone any more.

“The dancing’s got so overtly sexual that we have to address it,” said Tim Wald, principal at White Bear Lake High School’s south campus. He described the movement as “a rhythmic grinding that … really appears to be sexual behavior.”

“Now it applies to a lot of our students,” Wald said. “We can’t just pick out those who are misbehaving.”

Glory be, the schools are actually trying to keep something out of their buildings besides the ROTC and army recruiters! Of course these moves have students gnashing their teeth, but I think that’s better than having them grinding their underwear into oatmeal. Not surprisingly, students are voting with their feet (or something).

Roseville Area High principal Connie Nicholson said the homecoming dance this fall drew about a third the crowd it usually does after the school said it would “not be allowing dancing that simulates sexual activity.”

Apple Valley High School has gone from nine dances a year to three — homecoming, Sadie Hawkins and prom — after students objected to new rules last year forbidding grinding. Students essentially boycotted the “smaller, sort of come-as-you-are dances,” said principal Steve Degenaar. “Kids are OK with the rules as long as it’s a major theme dance,” he said.

On the one hand, it’s less of a headache for administrators if students who aren’t prepared to follow the rules stay away from dances.

On the other, dances can be a way to bond students to their school and create camaraderie. And some worry that pushing students to find their own fun on a Friday night will encourage risky behavior.

As Amy Knutson, secretary of the student council at Central, put it after watching classmates bail out on her school’s homecoming dance: “I don’t think it’s a healthier alternative to go to clubs.”

While I’m truly concerned what the longterm ramifications for our youth might be as result of school dances being cut from 9 to just 3 per year(how will we compete with other countries?), I somehow get the impression that bonding with the school isn’t what the kids are interested in. Furthermore, I don’t think allowing group sex in the school as a way to keep kids off the streets and out of the backseats is an effective or logical strategy. And pardon me, Ms. Knutson, but don’t you have to be 21 to get into clubs in Minnesota? Get off the dance floor and get back to debate class!

Update:

Dementee over at the Koolaid Report is also on the story like a freak-dancer on a thong.