Are Christians Hypocrites?

On a regular basis, somebody who’s famous and Christian does something scandalous that leads people to question their values. The obvious current example is the story of Josh Duggar, which came to light this past week and is probably the biggest story to hit the news since the events in Baltimore several weeks ago. On the one hand, it’s sad that the media plays up these stories, often doing so in a cynical way and casting a bad light on Christians in general. On the other hand, though, you can’t really blame them; it really is a big story when someone who’s famous for their flawless morality does something shockingly immoral. Besides, there are plenty of people out there in the general public who are glad to hear things that allow them to accuse Christians of hypocrisy. Sex scandals are just the big news stories; Christians do other unchristian things, too. Look at the comments on pretty much any online article dealing with religion, and you’ll see a number of complaints that basically boil down to the accusation that Christians are unkind, unloving, or unforgiving, when kindness, love, and forgiveness are supposed to be the whole point of Christianity. I sometimes think that the reason people are quick to point out high-profile hypocrisy is because non-Christians are so annoyed by the self-righteous attitude that they perceive Christians as having in less high-profile scenarios. This, sad to say, is evidently what most non-Christians in our culture see when they look at Christians.

But are they right? Are Christians, across the board, hypocritical? In the wake of the latest big-news sex scandal, this has been the topic of a lot of internet discussion. Some Christians have tried very hard to insist that the answer is no, or even to defend the actions of Josh Duggar. That’s just silly; even he himself has come forward and said that what he did was “inexcusable”. A lot of the discussion on social media points out that, for all the attention being given to the sinner in this case, not much is being said about the girls who were affected. I’m going to give the media the benefit of the doubt and assume that this hole in the coverage is protecting the privacy of these girls, but these people on the internet are right to point out that an apology doesn’t undo wrongdoing. Now I have nothing against the Duggar family, I would even go as far to say that their show is the closest thing there is to wholesome reality TV, but there’s no denying the fact that Josh Duggar committed a sin that harmed people. Nor is he the only Christian to do so.

The term “Christian values” is often used to refer to a set of values that varies slightly depending upon who’s speaking, but probably includes rules such modest clothes, no sex outside of marriage, no getting drunk, little or no swearing, and (maybe) conservative political ideals. But Christian morals, as set forth in the Bible, are more specific than that. Jesus says that even something as minor as an insult is a sin punishable by damnation. (Matthew 5:22 ESV: “But I say to you that everyone who is angry with his brother will be liable to judgment; whoever insults his brother will be liable to the council; and whoever says, ‘You fool!’ will be liable to the hell of fire.”) Verses such as Matthew 5:48 and Deuteronomy 18:13 demand perfection. And, as other verses like Romans 3:23 (“For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God”) and Isaiah 53:6 (“All we like sheep have gone astray”) remind us, no one is perfect.

Therefore, yes, Christianity is a religion full of hypocrites. The only way to avoid that fact is to inaccurately redefine sin in order to incorrectly deny that we are sinners. (Something that some people and even some entire denominations do seem to do, but that’s beside the point) Otherwise, it is inevitably true that Christians do not live up to the high moral standards that Christianity says is necessary. It’s true of Josh Duggar, it’s true of politicians who get involved in scandals, it’s true of people who shoplift or commit any kind of violent act, it’s true of anyone who’s ever told a lie or said something mean, and it’s true of everyone who’s ever driven above the speed limit. And no Christian who has any kind of understanding of sin and the Law can deny it.

But Christianity isn’t just a list of impossible moral rules, or a harsh statement against people who break those rules. The sinfulness and hypocrisy of Christian people isn’t the end of the story. Yes, sometimes Christians are guilty of making it sound as if that’s the whole point, but it isn’t. Jesus did more than preach sermons about what it means to be a good person. Jesus paid for all of our sins through his death on the cross. That’s the actual point of Christianity. It’s what ought to come to people’s minds when they hear the word “Christian”, rather than a vague concept of “Christian values” or a cynical criticism of the lack thereof. I think that both Christians and non-Christians have a tendency to forget that Christianity is fundamentally about Christ.

In short, it’s true that Christians are hypocrites in the strictest sense of the word. It’s true that we’re all sinners by the definition of our own religion. Most of us have not committed the kinds of sins that make headlines, but none of us live the kind of flawless, wholesome, godly lives that Christians are supposed to live. We’re sinners, but we’re forgiven sinners.

Nine Things I Miss About Dance

I was a dancer in high school and college. (Technically, I was a dancer before then, too, but I was fourteen before it was really a defining part of my life.) Unfortunately, I haven’t had the opportunity to take a class since I graduated from college nearly two years ago. I never really intended to give it up and still hope that, at some point in the future, I’ll have the financial means to take some ballet classes again, if only in a recreational capacity. But, for the time being, I suppose it’s fair to call myself a former dancer. And as such, I completely relate to this article that I stumbled across this morning. It’s a list of things that former dancers miss, and it’s mostly pretty readily-apparent things, like the thrill of performing, flexibility, and dancer camaraderie. But there are a lot of things I miss that aren’t so obvious, so I thought I’d make my own list.

1. Pointe shoes

One of my favorite of my own pointe shoe pictures

Most young ballet students look forward to their first pointe shoes with eager expectation, and for most intermediate ballet students, that first pair of pointe shoes is among the most exciting life milestones they’ve ever reached. It certainly was for me, even though I was a late starter and was in my teens before I got my first pair. I technically started pointe at the age of fourteen, but then when I switched schools, I went off pointe for a year and a half. So I was sixteen before I ever got to the stage where I wore pointe shoes practically on a daily basis and got to perform on pointe. I never really felt fully comfortable on pointe. Still, I loved my pointe shoes and I loved the way my feet looked in them. I even loved all of my old pointe shoes that got too worn-out for use, since battered-up pointe shoes are proof that you’ve danced hard, and they all have so many memories. Most dancers end up having a love-hate relationship with their pointe shoes, since they are painful and do deform a dancer’s feet. I was no exception. But in retrospect, I actually miss some of the downsides of pointe, too. Which brings me to my next point. (Pun not intended, but acknowledged with pleasure)

Ever wondered what ballet dancers’ feet look like under the pointe shoes? Kind of like this, only usually redder because pointe shoes are tight.

2. Bloody little toes

When you dance on pointe more than once or twice a week, toe afflictions are a normal part of life. I actually was never blister-prone, but I did regularly rub the skin right off my little toes, which is even more painful than it sounds. Of course, I didn’t appreciate the pain, but I did kind of like feeling like I was tough because of it. (Once, I had to use scissors to cut a chunk of partially-disconnected flesh off of my toe. It wasn’t dead skin; it was alive and sensitive skin, and I felt like I was really special for being able to do that to my own foot.) Even when I wasn’t dancing, I could feel that pain on the edge of my foot with every step I took, and it was a constant reminder that dance wasn’t just something I did, it was part of who I was. As annoying and challenging as it was at the time, it’s hard not to miss that sensation, and the blood stains on the toes of all my dance tights and some of my socks, when I was used to feeling like they defined my identity.

3. All those dancer quirks

This one is really just reiterating the article I linked at the beginning of the post, but I wanted to reiterate that, because to me, those little dancer quirks were also integral parts of who I was. I mean things like popping your hips and ankles, complimenting your friends on the shape of their feet, walking or standing with your legs turned out, and being hyper-conscious of whether your hips and shoulders are in line. There’s dancer terminology that other people don’t understand, there are products like jet glue and toe pads that mostly only dancers use, and there are experiences like putting your hair in a bun every day that are normal when you’re a dancer but not normal if you’re not. There are just so many little things along those lines that it’s just natural that dancers get in the habit of thinking of themselves as practically a different species than “normal people”. And yes, dancers do distinguish between “dancers” and “normal people”. There isn’t necessarily an implication that normal people are inferior, but once you’ve experienced both, it’s hard not to feel like being a dancer was just more interesting.

4. The outlet for perfectionism and obsessiveness

As I mentioned in a previous blog post, it turns out that I actually have Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. For most of college, I knew it but wasn’t officially diagnosed. I feel like I actually handled it pretty well in college, though, because so many of my obsessions had to do with dance and most of my compulsions had to do with practicing dance. Don’t get me wrong; it was still miserable. I hated myself for not being a good dancer, and I worked myself so hard that it was actually counterproductive. In the summers, when I didn’t have actual class, I would practice for hours on end and would usually only stop when I either collapsed from fatigue or when my Achilles tendonitis got so bad that I could barely stand, much less dance. When I had actual classes, I didn’t work myself quite so hard because I had a teacher there to offer corrections, but I still was constantly overcome with embarrassment and frustration because I was just no good. It didn’t help that I had a teacher freshman year who discouraged me from continuing in the major and that I overheard more skilled classmates making unkind comments about me a couple of times. So, to be honest, I really can’t say that I enjoyed those three years of my dance experience. (My senior year, when I was taking classes off campus, was a different story. Big shout out to the Grebel Center for Dance/Alabama Youth Ballet Company for an enjoyable, productive, and injury-free year of ballet.) At the time, I told myself that the occasional moments of success were so wonderful that they made up for all the literal blood, sweat, and tears. But it was more than that; it also helped me keep the rest of my life relatively free from all the self-disgust, perfectionist obsession, anxiety, and pressure that come with OCD.

5. That moment when you do something just right

But don’t get me wrong; ballet isn’t all pain and misery, even for someone like me who is unfortunate enough to be a mediocre perfectionist. There are few things in life more exciting and fulfilling than that rare moment when you do a flawless pirouette or an especially high jete, or when you get through a tricky combination without messing up, or when you really like what you see in the mirror while you’re dancing. Both emotionally and physically, it feels like a special moment and it makes you happy in a way that other parts of your life just can’t do. Bonus points if your teacher notices and comments. There’s no kind of validation more satisfying than when a hard-to-please dance teacher is pleased with you.

Natalia Osipova, one of my favorite ballerinas

6. Getting to watch dance all the time

As great as it is to dance, it’s great to watch dance, too. When you take dance classes at a quality dance school, you constantly get to see some really great dancing. And you get to see it up close and personal. Sometimes, you even get to vicariously experience what it would be like to be a better dancer than you are. Watching ballerinas on youtube is fun, but sitting on the floor of a dance studio in rehearsal and watching your friends’ and classmates’ pointe shoes on the dance floor is a completely different experience. Even in class, watching other dancers can be a rewarding experience. Certainly, non-dancers can sometimes have the opportunity to watch dancers in such an environment, especially if they are parents of young dance students. But being a dancer enriches the experience because you know what it’s like to be that dancer you’re watching, and you know the difference between a fairly good dancer and a great dancer with impeccable technique. The same goes for watching performances; it’s an enhanced viewing experience if you know a lot about what you’re watching.

7. The routine of a classical ballet class

One reason that classical ballet is by far my favorite dance form is that it’s so neat and organized. Every class follows the same routine, which feels comfortable and comforting to people like me who like routine, and makes it really easy to track progress. The exact combinations vary from day to day, which keeps class from getting boring, but the structure is always the same. Some dancers actually don’t like that, but I always did. Maybe it’s partly because of my OCD, but to me, it made me feel like ballet class was my natural habitat, even if I was devoid in natural talent. That feeling of being at home is something that I’ve never been able to establish to the same degree anyplace else. Since ballet is so all-consuming, most ballet dancers would probably relate to that, even if it isn’t the classroom routine that made them feel that way.

8. The way a performance takes over your life

Snow scene from the New York City Ballet’s Nutcracker

The article that I linked earlier alludes to this, but I wanted to include it as a specific point in my list. For me, unlike most dancers, the actual performance isn’t necessarily the whole point of dance, but it is the most exciting part. For months, you’ve been practicing the same thing over and over and over, and all of a sudden you get to do it in a costume, on a stage, with people watching. Even better, (in my opinion) there are several days where dance is really truly your whole life. For a dance school where the performers are children and teens, the last week before the performance usually goes like this. The weekend before the show, there are several-hour-long rehearsals in the dance studio on both Saturday and Sunday, usually with costumes and props. The studio is busier than usual, because the full cast and a lot of the parents, as well as maybe some guest performers and/or board members, are in the building at the same time. Everyone is feeling stressed, but everyone is excited, too. On Monday and Tuesday, rehearsals will probably still be in the studio, but they’ll probably start as soon as the dancers get out of school and will go until nine or maybe ten in the evening. (Little kids will probably leave once they’re done dancing, but older dancers will stay until all rehearsing is done, even if they don’t dance for the last half hour or hour of rehearsal.) Wednesday and Thursday are usually full dress rehearsals in the theater. Dancers come straight from school, put on their leotards and makeup, have a warmup class on stage, and rehearse all evening until at least ten O’clock or so. Then they go home, eat a super-late supper, and go to sleep immediately, just to do the same thing the next day. Friday evening is usually the first performance. There might be two shows on Saturday, in which case dancers probably arrive by nine or ten in the morning for warm-up, and don’t leave the theater for even a moment until ten or eleven at night. Sunday early afternoon is usually the last show, and everyone’s exhausted but pumped up. Sunday matinees were always my favorite show. Sometimes, there will be a casual photo shoot and/or cast party afterwards. Then it takes several days to recover. It’s exhausting, but it’s fun, and there’s really nothing else in life like it.

9. The constant sense of hope

Maybe I’m a bit of an optimist, but I always assumed that I was just days or weeks away from suddenly improving drastically, and I always had my sights on a bright future in dance, even though that became increasingly implausible as I got older. Even in college, when I had to gradually face the fact that I didn’t really have a shot at a career in dance, there was always that sense that maybe tomorrow would be the day that I’d do a triple pirouette on pointe, or that maybe next week or the week after, my arabesque would be higher than it was today, or that maybe, if I spent a couple hours straight practicing petite allegro over the weekend, I would suddenly be good at it next Monday. Hope is a funny thing. Even when it’s unrealistic, it makes hard work worth doing and hardships worth enduring. But in most aspects of life, goals are a little less concrete and effort is a little bit less quantifiable. In dance, it’s sometimes easier to believe that all your hopes and dreams are just barely out of your reach and will be easily achievable if you can make it just one step farther. And when you feel that way, it gives meaning and purpose to everything you do.

This is by no means a comprehensive list of everything I miss. But I think it gives a sense of how much dance means when you’re a dancer. It’s not all about fun and glitz, and a former dancer loses more than a hobby and a little glitter. Part of you dies when you stop dancing.