Over at The Washington Post’s On Faith blog, Jacques Berlinerblau, program director and associate professor of Jewish Civilization at the Edmund A. Walsh School of Foreign Service at Georgetown University, cleverly lists what he considers are Barack Obama’s opportunistic options as the senator seeks out a new place for him and his family to worship: Join a white blue-collar congregation, attend a non-radical African-American church, try a different religious tradition each week, convert to Judaism, or just denounce religion altogether and go secular. Be sure to read his rationale for each of these faith “strategies.”

Rock ’n’ roll pioneer Bo Diddley died of heart failure at his home in Florida today. According to his Wikipedia entry, Diddley, whose birth name was Ellas Otha Bates, had in recent years settled in the small farming community of Archer, Fla., near Gainesville, where he lived close to his children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, attended church, and prior to suffering a stroke and heart attack last year had been working on some faith-based songs.

That headline is a cliché, but a Syracuse University faculty member who crunches poll numbers is backing up that assumption with data. I asked Professor Arthur C. Brooks whether people who say they’re happy really are, and he backs up that belief with reports on brainwaves and such, If he’s right, what’s in his new book, Gross National Happiness (Basic), is important.

WOW: What do you mean by writing that “Happiness is a gift from above”?

ACB: Faith is an incredible predictor–and cause–of happiness. Religious people of all faiths are much, much happier than secularists, on average. In 2004, 43 percent of those who attended a house of worship at least once a week said they were “very happy” with their lives, versus 23 percent of those who attended seldom or never.

WOW: Later, you ask, “Does money buy happiness?” and arrive at some conclusions based on U.S. data but also comparisons between people in France and Mexico…

ACB: It probably isn’t too surprising to learn that money does not buy happiness. This is true as long as people are above the level of basic subsistence, which is true of virtually 100% of Americans. That’s one reason why America’s astounding economic prosperity, which is a wonderful thing and something I believe we should be deeply grateful for, hasn’t raised our happiness levels much over the past decades, on average. It also explains why a country like Mexico, which is a lot poorer than, say, France, can also be happier: In Mexico, 63 percent of adults said they were very happy or completely happy. In France, only 35 percent gave one of these responses.

WOW: According to your chapter on “the secret to buying happiness,” is it better to give or receive?

ACB: As a researcher, I always go where the data lead me. But I will confess to rejoicing a little every time I find that the data back up the Scriptures. Such is the case for charity. It is abundantly clear that when people give to others, they get happier, healthier, and even more financially prosperous.

WOW: Theologian Francis Schaeffer criticized Christians who make “personal peace and affluence” their goal. Keeping in mind the lives of Abraham, Moses, Elijah, Jeremiah, Jesus, and Paul, what kind of happiness should be our goal?

ACB: I can’t stress enough that according to all the evidence, shooting for affluence or material comforts as a source of happiness is an error. As we see in the life and teachings of Christ and the prophets, happiness comes from an exercise of our good values, including a focus on service to others. Proper values are what bring a happy, well-ordered life. These things also bring prosperity. But to try to get personal happiness from material affluence is like trying to build a tall skyscraper by starting with the top floor.

“Then the other disciple, who had reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed” (John 20:6-9).

If you skimmed that verse quickly you missed the great philosophical debate of the next two thousand years of Western civilization: what constitutes “evidence”?

Let’s have an instant replay of the scene: It’s dawn and two men are racing. John outruns Peter (perhaps he is younger) and reaches the crypt first; he does not enter. Peter arrives second and, being Peter, barges in. He takes in the following brute data at a glance: linen cloths lying; Jesus’ head-covering apart from the linens, folded up. No body. (A reporter would have scribbled notes, perhaps looked for signs of struggle, foul play, forced entry.)

John crossed the threshold second. We are told he “also went in, and saw and believed.”

You might think, “Wait! Wait! John is skipping too many steps! What about this possibility, and that possibility?” And you proffer a dozen theories to explain the missing corpse, and each generation after you generates a dozen more.

When I was on the threshold of becoming a Christian, in the early 70s, pestering Christians with objection after objection, a patient man named John finally said calmly: “You know, Andrée, there comes a point where you have to stop accumulating evidence and decide.”

Of making many books there is no end. In the final analysis, there is this: the linen cloth neatly folded, the empty tomb, and your choice.

I like the way we Christians constantly exhort each other to more faith, and flagellate each other for our lack of it — and then ridicule the person who has too much.

A friend of mine, who has proved sober and honest in all my relations with him, told me about a prayerfully sought healing in his prison fellowship that brought much rejoicing among the brothers.

But of course, you can’t always trust an inmate.

Yesterday I was at a party at which a couple told me the following story: They were stranded with a transmission fluid leak in the poverty-and-crime-infested Port Richmond section of Philadelphia, where nothing of value, left on the street, will not be soon snatched up. They would have needed one of those funnels with the curved necks, and there was no place near from which to purchase one.

He was a new Christian. His wife-to-be was already a strong believer. She said to him words to this effect: “If you really believe in Jesus, like you say you do, you will pray with me now, and pray specifically for the right kind of funnel.” So they did. And when they rounded the corner, there was one sitting in the middle of the road.

Tell me, why shouldn’t I believe that?

“If Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile and you are still in your sins” (1 Corinthians 15:16).

What an interesting way to put it. You might have thought Paul would say, “If Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile and the notion of sin is hogwash.”

But no, whether Christianity is true or not — and even if Nietzsche is right that “God is dead” — we are still in our sins. I know, I know, philosophically you can give me a good argument that where there is no God, there is no such thing as sin: Sin is a meaningful concept only where there is a Personal lawgiver. True enough.

But my earliest memories are of shameful thoughts and deeds that have no better description than the word “sin.” Sin as a concept has a quality that should please the 14^th century English logician William of Ockham, and succeeding practitioners of the scientific method. It contains all the facts of my experience with nothing spilling over and unaccounted for. It is economic, parsimonious, simple, elegant.

I for one am grateful to have heard the news of the gospel — that a solution was provided for the miserable predicament I found myself in since consciousness of existence was coterminous with consciousness of guilt.

And now the inverse is gloriously true:

“Christ has been raised, my faith is not futile, and I am not still in my sins.” Glory!

It was not quite 8 a.m. and as I was walking with Spider down streets still devoid of people, a little boy I don’t know called out to me heartily from his front porch: “Today’s my birthday!”

The notion of it was suddenly utterly delightful to me, as was this shared secret with a fellow earth traveler in an unrepeatable moment in time. “Is it really! That’s fantastic!” I said. “What’s the date today?” He cocked his head to think a second or two: “March 19^th.” “How old are you now?” “Six!” “I hope you have a wonderful birthday today!” I said (Everything was exclamation points.) “I will!” he said, as a foregone conclusion.

Remember the days when you didn’t need context to bring up a subject? All thoughts important to you were instantly relevant. Your friends, to their undying credit, didn’t think you weird but were on board without missing a beat, and ready to go with the flow.

Remember the days when you could expect that something that was good news to you would of course be good news to everyone? Even some strange middle-aged lady walking her dog?

No wonder God loves children especially. I wonder if I can become enough like one again that people over age six will feel free to tell me something out of context, and be able to trust that I care.

“Whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it” (Luke 18:17)

I need a prenuptial agreement with the Lord. I get nowhere in this mindset of forever looking at the outcomes of things to decide if he is trustworthy or not.

Outcome leads to outcome — one seems bad, but then turns good, and then turns bad again. There is no end to this. To make it work, you would need to see the end of the entire chain, and no man sees that. In other words, you would need the omniscience of a god.

I was talking to a man who was ready to bail out of his relationship with God because he hadn’t slept two nights in a row, in spite of much prayer. If there had been dirt handy, and sackcloth on my back, I would have repented for us both in the Old Testament way.

Here is my Prenuptial with my Husband. Here are my terms and legal conditions regarding the possible future dissolution of this marriage. Let the angels be my witnesses and Saint Peter notarize:

Though the fig tree should not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines, the produce of the olive fail and the fields yield no food, the flock be cut off from the fold and there be no herd in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord; I will take joy in the God of my salvation (Habakkuk 3;17,18).

(No “sunset provision” for agreement, by either party, to expire this contract.)

We all have to trust one another. That is to say, we are put in a position of having to trust one another just in order to live.

I think of it most acutely when I get on an airplane, though it’s always true. As I buckle in and hear the engines rev, I always wonder about the mechanic who serviced the aircraft — perhaps on a Monday morning, with a hangover, after an unfinished argument with the wife, or harboring a grievance with the airline.

I have no choice; I need to get to Atlanta.

Not just individuals but corporate entities have to do some trusting. One of France’s largest banks, Société Général, trusted a 31-year-old trader and he cost them $7.2 billion for their confidence a month ago.

Our own banks, which borrow as much as 90% of every dollar they invest, trust that the borrowed money is good. At least they used to.

Some acts of trust are based on better assumptions than others — but all trust is based on assumptions. Till recently banks’ assumptions were that housing prices would keep rising, and that computer-generated evaluations of the markets were infallible.

My own personal assumption is that the God of the Bible backs up his Word.

How do you view your livelihood–as sacred or secular work?

For many people, unless they are serving in the ministry, they’d probably answer “secular.” But in doing so,  Alex Brubaker says they would be falsely operating under a paradigm that segments all earthly activities into two distinct categories–the sacred and the secular. Instead, he writes:

God gives each of us different gifts, passions and callings, and for some of us, these gifts are in the realm of business. If our calling is to advance God’s kingdom through business, then that is our highest calling.

Whatever our calling from God-whether in the marketplace or in the Church-our calling is noble and sacred, and the old paradigms fall away. In fact, the sacred and the secular overlap and coexist. Personally, I have found a greater integration of my work (the so-called “secular”) and faith (the “sacred”) with the realization that I can minister in the marketplace through my business. All aspects of my life, including my work in business, are ministry

So, to go back to the original question, how do you view your work–as sacred or secular–and why?