In today's reading, 1 Timothy 3:1-16, Paul touches on an interesting concept, the qualities of a church leader. He gives a listing of the characteristics of Deacons and Elders. Temperance, gentleness, peacefulness, maturity, faithfulness... And he states that those who exhibit these characteristics have the makings of a good deacon, as long as they have shown that they can fulfill the offices of the church well. "A deacon must be faithful to his wife, and he must manage his children and household well." (3:12)
I know of people who are temperate, gentle, peaceful, and faithful, who are dedicated to their families, and who are not deacons, and indeed, not Christians. I also know of church leaders who outwardly appear to be gentle and faithful, managing their family well, who are vicious and controlling of their family so that they can be perceived as "managing" their family well in order to "get" to be a deacon or other church leader.
Utilizing the appearance of faith as a justification of leadership seems to be as dangerous as utilizing the appearance of "non-faith" as a justification for the castigation of the "out-group," or those not of the faith. The simplistic, "if this, then this..." approach to the appearance of Godliness or the admission of faithlessness has always been the "easy way out" for a non-thoughtful or non-prayerful group of people. A failure to participate in the struggle of understanding, true understanding, is secondary to a complacent belief system that does not encourage that struggle.
Legalism creates a complacency by giving a rational justification to things, the myth that everything somehow has a rational explanation. If we believe that things can be explained, then we can be complacent that someone else will derive that explanation, and it is not our duty to find the explanation on our own. That is, if we believe in an "answer," then someone more skilled or more dedicated can be "trusted," blindly, to gain that rational answer, and will probably do so in a way that overshadows our own pursuit of that truth. Obviously, once we "trust" that person in the position of authority, our motivation to seek our truth can be subverted. That person we "trust" will find the "truth" we legalistically believe in, better than we can find it (by virtue of our "trust"), and we let that person do his or her job.
But what if there is not an answer, but we are still left with that longing for the answer? If we don't believe in rational, legalistic ideals (A deacon is a good person is a deacon is a good person is a deacon...), then if we remain hungry for a truth that can have no rational explanation, our hunger forces us to seek our own answers, not depending on someone who cannot find "the" truth, since our assumption is that there is no legalistic truth to be found.
Paul gives a great idea in this chapter, but laziness and complacency, fed by legalism, can corrupt his intent in a closed human system. Deacons can "abuse" their children, and not have it called "abuse" because they are deacons, and therefore are infallible. Their actions just become another word, called "management." Not being vigilant for the truth, not seeking God's mercy and love, not desperately trying to understand the interplay between accountability, justice, mercy, and love, creates a closed and frigid architecture under which horrible moral abuses can be justified.
It's our duty to delve, question, seek, and understand. It's our duty to apply accountability with love and mercy. It's our duty to save people from "management," misapplied. Paul had the right intent, but if we are lazy, it can have a truly terrible outcome for us, for children and families, and for those who love them.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Sunday, May 30, 2010
John is funny??
I have made no attempt to hide the fact that John's book is my least favorite gospel. But, today, maybe I might change my mind.
"Jesus' trial before Caiaphas ended in the early hours of the morning. Then he was taken to the headquarters of the Roman governor. His accusers didn't go in themselves because it would defile them, and they wouldn't be allowed to celebrate the Passover feast. So Pilate, the governor, went out to them and asked, "What is your charge against this man?"" John 18:28-29
Maybe others might not think this to be a funny quote, but it struck me as ridiculous. Here we have seen a defeated people, the jews, slaves once again in a Roman state, meeting under cover of night to hold a mock trial of another jew (to them). The priests, the only symbols of power in a defeated nation, trying desparately to maintain their tenuous earthly authority, have trumped up charges against a charismatic leader who has threatened to overturn their flimsy power structure. Pious and self-righteous in the extreme, they use their own self-justifying legalistic scriptural interpretation to condemn this man.
Clinging to this self-righteous piety to the end, they then refuse to enter a Roman household for fear that it would defile them to the point that they could not participate in the Passover feast. Brave men, indeed. A defeated nation, depending on the mercy of its oppressors not to kill each and every one of them, refusing to extend that same level of mercy to one of their own tribe, and yet able to cloak that lack of mercy in legalistic arguments used to keep their faith "pure." How ultimately pathetic!
The futile hypocrisy of these "priests" only justified the message of Jesus even greater than he could in his own sermons. By contrast to these laughable clowns, Jesus is magnified.
As I recall, this scene is only played out in the gospel of John. I have underestimated this gospel. Maybe next time, I will be more prepared to read it.
"Jesus' trial before Caiaphas ended in the early hours of the morning. Then he was taken to the headquarters of the Roman governor. His accusers didn't go in themselves because it would defile them, and they wouldn't be allowed to celebrate the Passover feast. So Pilate, the governor, went out to them and asked, "What is your charge against this man?"" John 18:28-29
Maybe others might not think this to be a funny quote, but it struck me as ridiculous. Here we have seen a defeated people, the jews, slaves once again in a Roman state, meeting under cover of night to hold a mock trial of another jew (to them). The priests, the only symbols of power in a defeated nation, trying desparately to maintain their tenuous earthly authority, have trumped up charges against a charismatic leader who has threatened to overturn their flimsy power structure. Pious and self-righteous in the extreme, they use their own self-justifying legalistic scriptural interpretation to condemn this man.
Clinging to this self-righteous piety to the end, they then refuse to enter a Roman household for fear that it would defile them to the point that they could not participate in the Passover feast. Brave men, indeed. A defeated nation, depending on the mercy of its oppressors not to kill each and every one of them, refusing to extend that same level of mercy to one of their own tribe, and yet able to cloak that lack of mercy in legalistic arguments used to keep their faith "pure." How ultimately pathetic!
The futile hypocrisy of these "priests" only justified the message of Jesus even greater than he could in his own sermons. By contrast to these laughable clowns, Jesus is magnified.
As I recall, this scene is only played out in the gospel of John. I have underestimated this gospel. Maybe next time, I will be more prepared to read it.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Lessons in justice and legalism
"'You are a better man than I am, for you have repaid me good for evil.'" 1 Samuel 24:17, Saul to David
"But he has repaid me evil for good. May God deal with me severely if even one man of his household is still alive tomorrow morning!" 1 Samuel 25 21-22
The second quotation deals with a familiar concept of injustice. David had protected Nabal's sheep, and yet Nabal rejects David's request for assistance. We can see that the reactions do not match the intent behind the initial actions, and so we understand David's rage, even if our less warlike society might disagree with David's plans for mass murder. In Judaic terms, letting an injustice go, unanswered, is a sin, and asking God to bless one's correction of injustice is not only asking a blessing, but also a holy command to enforce justice.
But, what about the first quotation. Wasn't it just as unjust? Here is David, fighting Saul's wars for him, and being hunted like a dog by Saul. Yet, when David has the opportunity to kill Saul, he refrains. David's intent is to honor God by not killing God's anointed, Saul. Saul, in his viewpoint, cedes that David is a better man than Saul. But, wasn't David's action unjust in its own way? Where is the holy command to enforce the justice owed to David by Saul's actions?
David defers that justice to God at one point, but then takes justice on his own at another point. This dichotomous behavior points out some of the inevitable tension between accountability (legalism) and the process of deconstructive reasoning. How is it that a supposedly legalistic society can pick and choose, like a Chinese menu, which "injustice" to avenge, and which "injustice" to praise. It basically comes down to an issue of interpretation, which runs completely counter to the principles of legalism.
Legalism is adherence to doctrinal purity, and at its core is anti-interpretative. Yet, David picks and chooses which injustice to avenge based on his own interpretation of God's will as it relates to him. Remember that God hardened Pharaoh's heart for His purposes. How does David know that God did not harden Nabal's heart. We see no record of that, but the Jews in Egypt also did not know (having not read a document that had not yet been written) that God worked in Pharaoh's heart.
Jesus offers a solution to this conundrum in the John.
"Don't believe me unless I carry out my Father's work. But if I do his work, believe in what I have done, even if you don't believe me. Then you will realize that the Father is in me and I am in the Father." (John 10:37-38)
His instructions are to seek God's will in assessing the veracity of His claims. He does not come to espouse a legalism of faith, but a process of discernment. It is sad that so many of today's "Christians" seem to worship Him in legalism rather than in that process of discernment. They fall back onto human interpretations of rules and regulations, as a simpler answer to a complex question. By retreating from the intellectual challenge offered by Christ, and judging Christ in human terms, they fail in the intellectual challenges offered by the process of faith encouraged by the one they supposedly "worship."
And so they march on churches who dare to follow Christ's instructions to seek Him. They throw stones, foam at the mouth, scream obscenities in "His name," all the while using Him as a shield for their own anger, their own fears. Maybe I am letting too much of myself come into this interpretation, but I am sad when I see legalistic Christianity.
"But he has repaid me evil for good. May God deal with me severely if even one man of his household is still alive tomorrow morning!" 1 Samuel 25 21-22
The second quotation deals with a familiar concept of injustice. David had protected Nabal's sheep, and yet Nabal rejects David's request for assistance. We can see that the reactions do not match the intent behind the initial actions, and so we understand David's rage, even if our less warlike society might disagree with David's plans for mass murder. In Judaic terms, letting an injustice go, unanswered, is a sin, and asking God to bless one's correction of injustice is not only asking a blessing, but also a holy command to enforce justice.
But, what about the first quotation. Wasn't it just as unjust? Here is David, fighting Saul's wars for him, and being hunted like a dog by Saul. Yet, when David has the opportunity to kill Saul, he refrains. David's intent is to honor God by not killing God's anointed, Saul. Saul, in his viewpoint, cedes that David is a better man than Saul. But, wasn't David's action unjust in its own way? Where is the holy command to enforce the justice owed to David by Saul's actions?
David defers that justice to God at one point, but then takes justice on his own at another point. This dichotomous behavior points out some of the inevitable tension between accountability (legalism) and the process of deconstructive reasoning. How is it that a supposedly legalistic society can pick and choose, like a Chinese menu, which "injustice" to avenge, and which "injustice" to praise. It basically comes down to an issue of interpretation, which runs completely counter to the principles of legalism.
Legalism is adherence to doctrinal purity, and at its core is anti-interpretative. Yet, David picks and chooses which injustice to avenge based on his own interpretation of God's will as it relates to him. Remember that God hardened Pharaoh's heart for His purposes. How does David know that God did not harden Nabal's heart. We see no record of that, but the Jews in Egypt also did not know (having not read a document that had not yet been written) that God worked in Pharaoh's heart.
Jesus offers a solution to this conundrum in the John.
"Don't believe me unless I carry out my Father's work. But if I do his work, believe in what I have done, even if you don't believe me. Then you will realize that the Father is in me and I am in the Father." (John 10:37-38)
His instructions are to seek God's will in assessing the veracity of His claims. He does not come to espouse a legalism of faith, but a process of discernment. It is sad that so many of today's "Christians" seem to worship Him in legalism rather than in that process of discernment. They fall back onto human interpretations of rules and regulations, as a simpler answer to a complex question. By retreating from the intellectual challenge offered by Christ, and judging Christ in human terms, they fail in the intellectual challenges offered by the process of faith encouraged by the one they supposedly "worship."
And so they march on churches who dare to follow Christ's instructions to seek Him. They throw stones, foam at the mouth, scream obscenities in "His name," all the while using Him as a shield for their own anger, their own fears. Maybe I am letting too much of myself come into this interpretation, but I am sad when I see legalistic Christianity.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Think this through and you will see that I am right.
As hesitant as I am to pull my topic from the Gospel of John, this quotation really struck me.
When defending Himself from the Pharisees for working on the Sabbath, Jesus states that many Jews work on the Sabbath by performing circumcisions on the Sabbath, if the timing fits for the child to be circumcised that day. His response was this:
"So why should I be condemned for making a man completely well on the Sabbath? Think this through and you will see that I am right." John 7:23-24
So, how do we think this through? Well, it goes back to the moral authority of legalism. We have two choices when it comes to Bible interpretation. Biblical commands and edicts are either NOT open to interpretation, or they are. If one believes that they are not open to interpretation, then every single command of the bible must be followed. This would be the legalist's stance. If the Lord tells us to forgive our debts every seven years, then we must do this. If the Lord tells us to celebrate the year of Jubilee, then we must do as He says. The bible cannot, in this system, be a Chinese menu of options. I'll have the 1st, 3rd, and 5th commandments, please... You can hold the rest...
No, the legalistic stance, which was the stance favored by the Pharisees, was that biblical commands were not open to interpretation, and therefore holiness could be gauged by one's adherence to these commands. However, if even one of those proscriptions is violated, where is one's moral authority to pick and choose which command to follow and which command to neglect?
In other words, once a person decides to let one of the commands slip, say, Saturday circumcisions, how does one then justify a blind adherence to legalism in which one then would be committing sin by performing such an act? By ignoring the proscription about circumcision, the violator has two choices. He has to either acknowledge his action as sin, or state that it is not a sin, thereby opening up the bible to interpretation.
If he acknowledges his action as sin, then he is condemning the child, circumcised in sin. But if he opens the bible to interpretation, then he has no "God-Granted" moral authority to deny another's right to interpret the bible as he, or He, may see fit.
By telling the crowd this truth, Jesus encouraged them to use their intellect to see through the smokescreen of oppressive, abusive, legalism, and find a new path to God.
But that is the problem. Once one starts down that slippery slope of interpretive excess, where does it stop? Left unfettered, the process tends toward Derrida's deconstructionist stance, and we lose God in the process. Jesus preemptive response, given before his encouragement of intellect, was to state, "I'm not teaching my own ideas, but those of God who sent me. Anyone who wants to do the will of God will know whether my teaching is from God or is merely my own." John 7:16-17
Jesus speaks of a dedication to God, even while breaking the culture of legalism imposed by strict adherence to Judaic law. Interpretation of the bible must always be performed with an earnest desire to follow God. The interpretive meaning gained is only valid if it is in accordance with the "one who sent them" (John 7:18).
Here's the final trick. How do we know God's will? If we have established that we are unable to know it from legalistic means, as Jesus demonstrated by the example of the discordance between legalistic interpretation (circumcision is okay, but healing is not, in this example) then the only other avenue to seek God's will is non-legalistic, or highly personalized. The highly personalized approach to biblical interpretation, so that it is not left chaotic, is to ensure that the interpretation follows the will of God, and the only way to do that is to ask Him.
Ask God. In all one does, all the time, every day. Seek His will.
Seek His will, but, think it through. Pray, but also use your brain and learn His book. Don't adopt a legalistic response, but also don't reject biblical instruction. Pray, and seek his will in the setting of biblical study. Jesus promised that you will see that He is right.
When defending Himself from the Pharisees for working on the Sabbath, Jesus states that many Jews work on the Sabbath by performing circumcisions on the Sabbath, if the timing fits for the child to be circumcised that day. His response was this:
"So why should I be condemned for making a man completely well on the Sabbath? Think this through and you will see that I am right." John 7:23-24
So, how do we think this through? Well, it goes back to the moral authority of legalism. We have two choices when it comes to Bible interpretation. Biblical commands and edicts are either NOT open to interpretation, or they are. If one believes that they are not open to interpretation, then every single command of the bible must be followed. This would be the legalist's stance. If the Lord tells us to forgive our debts every seven years, then we must do this. If the Lord tells us to celebrate the year of Jubilee, then we must do as He says. The bible cannot, in this system, be a Chinese menu of options. I'll have the 1st, 3rd, and 5th commandments, please... You can hold the rest...
No, the legalistic stance, which was the stance favored by the Pharisees, was that biblical commands were not open to interpretation, and therefore holiness could be gauged by one's adherence to these commands. However, if even one of those proscriptions is violated, where is one's moral authority to pick and choose which command to follow and which command to neglect?
In other words, once a person decides to let one of the commands slip, say, Saturday circumcisions, how does one then justify a blind adherence to legalism in which one then would be committing sin by performing such an act? By ignoring the proscription about circumcision, the violator has two choices. He has to either acknowledge his action as sin, or state that it is not a sin, thereby opening up the bible to interpretation.
If he acknowledges his action as sin, then he is condemning the child, circumcised in sin. But if he opens the bible to interpretation, then he has no "God-Granted" moral authority to deny another's right to interpret the bible as he, or He, may see fit.
By telling the crowd this truth, Jesus encouraged them to use their intellect to see through the smokescreen of oppressive, abusive, legalism, and find a new path to God.
But that is the problem. Once one starts down that slippery slope of interpretive excess, where does it stop? Left unfettered, the process tends toward Derrida's deconstructionist stance, and we lose God in the process. Jesus preemptive response, given before his encouragement of intellect, was to state, "I'm not teaching my own ideas, but those of God who sent me. Anyone who wants to do the will of God will know whether my teaching is from God or is merely my own." John 7:16-17
Jesus speaks of a dedication to God, even while breaking the culture of legalism imposed by strict adherence to Judaic law. Interpretation of the bible must always be performed with an earnest desire to follow God. The interpretive meaning gained is only valid if it is in accordance with the "one who sent them" (John 7:18).
Here's the final trick. How do we know God's will? If we have established that we are unable to know it from legalistic means, as Jesus demonstrated by the example of the discordance between legalistic interpretation (circumcision is okay, but healing is not, in this example) then the only other avenue to seek God's will is non-legalistic, or highly personalized. The highly personalized approach to biblical interpretation, so that it is not left chaotic, is to ensure that the interpretation follows the will of God, and the only way to do that is to ask Him.
Ask God. In all one does, all the time, every day. Seek His will.
Seek His will, but, think it through. Pray, but also use your brain and learn His book. Don't adopt a legalistic response, but also don't reject biblical instruction. Pray, and seek his will in the setting of biblical study. Jesus promised that you will see that He is right.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
The corollary of action
Today, I am parting from my customary comment on the reading of the day and instead, going back one day. That's because I had to think about this one overnight.
Yesterday's OT reading described God's interaction during the initial meeting between Samuel and Saul. As a quick refresher, God told Saul that he would meet the person who would be the future king of Israel as a man wandering from the tribe of Benjamin the next day.
Saul, in his effort to find a pair of donkeys that had strayed from his father's farm, just happened to be the man from the tribe of Benjamin the next day. Samuel meets Saul and the rest, as is so often tritely said, was history.
This is a quickly encapsulated vignette that is not so rare in itself but does raise, as other stories do, implications for our understanding of a moral God.
Obviously, God is described in this story as having His hand in the meeting between Samuel and Saul, as we assume He has His hands in all our lives. But did He cause the donkeys to wander off, so that Saul would happen to be the man from Benjamin that Samuel meets? Did Saul have a date with someone that he had to cancel so he could go find the irksome donkeys? What an aggravation! How many aggravations do we suffer daily that we don't see, initially, God's hands in? If we get into a car wreck, and happen to meet someone who radically changes our lives, does God cause that car wreck? Or does God pick and choose when to interfere in human destiny?
And if He picks when to interfere (causing the donkeys to stray), does He also pick when *not* to interfere (allowing mechanical failure to cause a plane to crash, and refusing to intercede when it may be your relative who is killed in the crash)?
Or did He just know that the donkeys were going to stray, and on that day choose to tell Samuel about it? Wouldn't that still be an action? Because if God acts in our lives, then the corollary of all His actions are His "inactions" to prevent the tragedies around us that are seemingly, seemingly, random.
Or are we supposed to interpret this section as a metaphor for Samuel's desire to choose a tall good-looking hillbilly as his pawn for the King of Israel? And if so, do we then go back to the non-legalistic, deconstructionist view of the bible, following that course of logic back to the destruction of moral authority espoused by the Bible? If we lose the moral authority of the bible, then what text will fill the vacuum that loss leaves behind as the text most closely representing the fundamental moral truth of the universe?
So, thinking about all this overnight, I was left again with the desire to pray and ask God for guidance. It was the fact that I had that desire to seek Him that made me wonder, is that what all this is about, leaving us with the hunger for Him, a hunger we always have but never can fully appease? Isn't that enough for us?
A story about a random set of coincidences reminds us that we are not on a linear path of our lives, but are meandering about instead, and we always need to be on high moral alert for those whom God places in that path.
Yesterday's OT reading described God's interaction during the initial meeting between Samuel and Saul. As a quick refresher, God told Saul that he would meet the person who would be the future king of Israel as a man wandering from the tribe of Benjamin the next day.
Saul, in his effort to find a pair of donkeys that had strayed from his father's farm, just happened to be the man from the tribe of Benjamin the next day. Samuel meets Saul and the rest, as is so often tritely said, was history.
This is a quickly encapsulated vignette that is not so rare in itself but does raise, as other stories do, implications for our understanding of a moral God.
Obviously, God is described in this story as having His hand in the meeting between Samuel and Saul, as we assume He has His hands in all our lives. But did He cause the donkeys to wander off, so that Saul would happen to be the man from Benjamin that Samuel meets? Did Saul have a date with someone that he had to cancel so he could go find the irksome donkeys? What an aggravation! How many aggravations do we suffer daily that we don't see, initially, God's hands in? If we get into a car wreck, and happen to meet someone who radically changes our lives, does God cause that car wreck? Or does God pick and choose when to interfere in human destiny?
And if He picks when to interfere (causing the donkeys to stray), does He also pick when *not* to interfere (allowing mechanical failure to cause a plane to crash, and refusing to intercede when it may be your relative who is killed in the crash)?
Or did He just know that the donkeys were going to stray, and on that day choose to tell Samuel about it? Wouldn't that still be an action? Because if God acts in our lives, then the corollary of all His actions are His "inactions" to prevent the tragedies around us that are seemingly, seemingly, random.
Or are we supposed to interpret this section as a metaphor for Samuel's desire to choose a tall good-looking hillbilly as his pawn for the King of Israel? And if so, do we then go back to the non-legalistic, deconstructionist view of the bible, following that course of logic back to the destruction of moral authority espoused by the Bible? If we lose the moral authority of the bible, then what text will fill the vacuum that loss leaves behind as the text most closely representing the fundamental moral truth of the universe?
So, thinking about all this overnight, I was left again with the desire to pray and ask God for guidance. It was the fact that I had that desire to seek Him that made me wonder, is that what all this is about, leaving us with the hunger for Him, a hunger we always have but never can fully appease? Isn't that enough for us?
A story about a random set of coincidences reminds us that we are not on a linear path of our lives, but are meandering about instead, and we always need to be on high moral alert for those whom God places in that path.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
...whatever seemed right...
"In those days Israel had no king, so the people did whatever seemed right in their own eyes." Judges 21:25
I have just gotten through the last section of Judges. Seemingly a litany of inappropriate or immoral behavior (by today's standards), it does have within it some gems of appropriate and moral behavior. However, the apologist view at the end of the book is the description given above. The people did whatever seemed right in their own eyes.
"in their own eyes" seems to fly in the face of legalism. If legalism can be defined as adherence to an external reference standard, mutually agreed upon by believers in that faith system, then behavior described by the term "whatever seemed right" by definition is anti-legalistic. Had the people agreed to pursue a single course of action, then this description of their behavior would not be applicable. That is, the book of Judges would not be a history of defeats, failures, immorality, and chaos punctuated by brief periods of enlightenment and morality. It seems that the writer of the history is basing his argument for a belief in a legalistic code of conduct by describing the variety of immoral acts committed by the people of Israel (kidnapping women to "get around" the proscription of a prior oath, etc).
So, what then should be done? What lessons are to be learned? It seems that the quotation above gives a two pronged answer. First, there must be an earthly "king." The quotation implies that because there was no earthly king, the people did whatever seemed right. The deeper concern below the denotation of the words would be their connotation, that the "whatever seemed right" was, in fact, wrong, and that adherence to a reference standard, or legalism, was the answer.
So, we need a king, and we need legalism. Earlier in the blog, I have discussed Jesus' description of legalism, and the corruption of legalism by Pharisaical behavior. As much as I personally dislike reading the Gospel of John, today's reading had an interesting answer that spoke directly to this argument.
When discussing the difference between Jews and Samaritans, Jesus downplays the differences between the two, and describes the fundamental ideas behind worship. "For God is Spirit, so those who worship him must worship in spirit and in truth." (John 4:24)
Most of us can agree on the intent of the spirit. Faithfulness to an idea, or a deity, is pretty similar. It hits a fundamental part of our consciousness that is relatively similar among all humans, regardless of nationality or of belief system. As a species, it seems to be in our genetics. The second point of his sentence is where the complexities arise.
"...in truth"
Whose truth? What human form does that "truth" take? Is it in turning prayer wheels in Thailand, waving incense burners in Italy, or falling on the floor and speaking in tongues in Alabama? Does the fundamental differences in these behaviors come down to the argument of "whatever seems right" to the people, or can we tend back toward a legalistic approach of a unified set of conduct so we are not tempted to do whatever seems right in our own eyes, and justify mass kidnapping, murder, or rape?
It is that push-pull of Christian worship that seems to keep the majority of worshippers on the appropriate road, headed in the right direction. Most of us walk that road without much problem, looking off in the distance at those who stray and fall to the side in their (what we might call "insane") interpretations of "whatever seems right."
But the formula of pushing and pulling over the ages seems to tend to be a guide which has worked pretty well in getting us as a species to move forward and slowly evolve to a more moral civilization. People can always look at some of the institutionalized abuses today (human trafficking, etc.) and say we are de-evolving, morally, but while that particular problem is epidemic, the response to it is one of outrage, not of accepted commerce (e.g., temple prostitution), and so the civilization as a whole, despite its obvious shortcomings, is advancing via this push-pull between "spirit" and "truth."
Obviously, there is no ultimate answer except adherence to the process. We will never get it "right" but we can pursue the attempt to understand how to get it "more" right, and it is in the pursuit that the answer lies, I believe. It's that pursuit that keeps us from settling for "whatever seems right" and yet steers us away from the corruption of legalism, keeping us focused, ahead, on God.
I have just gotten through the last section of Judges. Seemingly a litany of inappropriate or immoral behavior (by today's standards), it does have within it some gems of appropriate and moral behavior. However, the apologist view at the end of the book is the description given above. The people did whatever seemed right in their own eyes.
"in their own eyes" seems to fly in the face of legalism. If legalism can be defined as adherence to an external reference standard, mutually agreed upon by believers in that faith system, then behavior described by the term "whatever seemed right" by definition is anti-legalistic. Had the people agreed to pursue a single course of action, then this description of their behavior would not be applicable. That is, the book of Judges would not be a history of defeats, failures, immorality, and chaos punctuated by brief periods of enlightenment and morality. It seems that the writer of the history is basing his argument for a belief in a legalistic code of conduct by describing the variety of immoral acts committed by the people of Israel (kidnapping women to "get around" the proscription of a prior oath, etc).
So, what then should be done? What lessons are to be learned? It seems that the quotation above gives a two pronged answer. First, there must be an earthly "king." The quotation implies that because there was no earthly king, the people did whatever seemed right. The deeper concern below the denotation of the words would be their connotation, that the "whatever seemed right" was, in fact, wrong, and that adherence to a reference standard, or legalism, was the answer.
So, we need a king, and we need legalism. Earlier in the blog, I have discussed Jesus' description of legalism, and the corruption of legalism by Pharisaical behavior. As much as I personally dislike reading the Gospel of John, today's reading had an interesting answer that spoke directly to this argument.
When discussing the difference between Jews and Samaritans, Jesus downplays the differences between the two, and describes the fundamental ideas behind worship. "For God is Spirit, so those who worship him must worship in spirit and in truth." (John 4:24)
Most of us can agree on the intent of the spirit. Faithfulness to an idea, or a deity, is pretty similar. It hits a fundamental part of our consciousness that is relatively similar among all humans, regardless of nationality or of belief system. As a species, it seems to be in our genetics. The second point of his sentence is where the complexities arise.
"...in truth"
Whose truth? What human form does that "truth" take? Is it in turning prayer wheels in Thailand, waving incense burners in Italy, or falling on the floor and speaking in tongues in Alabama? Does the fundamental differences in these behaviors come down to the argument of "whatever seems right" to the people, or can we tend back toward a legalistic approach of a unified set of conduct so we are not tempted to do whatever seems right in our own eyes, and justify mass kidnapping, murder, or rape?
It is that push-pull of Christian worship that seems to keep the majority of worshippers on the appropriate road, headed in the right direction. Most of us walk that road without much problem, looking off in the distance at those who stray and fall to the side in their (what we might call "insane") interpretations of "whatever seems right."
But the formula of pushing and pulling over the ages seems to tend to be a guide which has worked pretty well in getting us as a species to move forward and slowly evolve to a more moral civilization. People can always look at some of the institutionalized abuses today (human trafficking, etc.) and say we are de-evolving, morally, but while that particular problem is epidemic, the response to it is one of outrage, not of accepted commerce (e.g., temple prostitution), and so the civilization as a whole, despite its obvious shortcomings, is advancing via this push-pull between "spirit" and "truth."
Obviously, there is no ultimate answer except adherence to the process. We will never get it "right" but we can pursue the attempt to understand how to get it "more" right, and it is in the pursuit that the answer lies, I believe. It's that pursuit that keeps us from settling for "whatever seems right" and yet steers us away from the corruption of legalism, keeping us focused, ahead, on God.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
The half tribe of Manasseh...
It has been far too long since I have had the time to blog. I am missing it, I can feel a difference in my heart when I don't take my eyes off of temporal things and put them on God.
Today's OT reading had an interesting story. The people of Reuben, Gad, and the half-tribe of Manasseh are answering accusations from the rest of Israel that building an altar on the "wrong side" of the Jordan somehow is a sin against God. Israel sends a large contingent of people to asses whether they have sinned, and to understand what to do next. The fear of the accusers is that the actions of Reuben, Gad, and the half tribe of Manasseh will plunge Israel into a civil war, destroying the nation.
The response of the accused is that no, their intent was not to sin, but to function as a memorial that they, too, worship the same God, even though they are geographically cut off (by the Jordan) from the rest of the people of Israel. It is "a reminder of the relationship both of us have with the Lord." Joshua 22:28. Their fear is that the descendants of people on the other side of the river will not accept their faith, due to the geographic distance. The purpose of the altar is to justify their faith. The justification of that faith is acceptable to the main tribes of Israel, and thus, civil war is averted.
The actions and reactions stir up many questions. These questions are echoed throughout history in the idea of whether one is worshipping "in the correct way." Jesus will divide Judaism in His worshipping "the right way." Martin Luther will divide Catholicism forever with his statement of protest. Many church reformers attempt to bring a frozen doctrinal approach back to life by getting to the heart of the matter, the content of faith rather than the form of faith. And what do you do when you are confronted by such a reformer?
The lesson of Israel is pretty clear. Try to understand the "reformer" (here the tribes of Reuben and Gad, etc), and then see how it fits in one's theology. Israel was contented that Reuben and Gad were not trying to reform Judaism (the altar was a memorial, it was not for burnt offerings, which would have been a true break from the the scriptural doctrine in Moses and Deuteronomy), and so they accepted the actions of Reuben and Gad.
But what do you do when a reform is attempted? Rather than reject it out of hand, attempt to understand it, and then identify whether the message of the reformer is consistent with scriptural doctrine. In this case, the actions of Reuben and Gad were consistent with scriptural doctrine. But, the message of Jesus was not wholly consistent with Judaic scriptural doctrine at the time. Although there were extensive similarities, the fundamental doctrine of Jesus is at odds with Judaic doctrine. Similarly, Martin Luther's message was not consistent with Catholic doctrine, leading to the Protestant reformation.
The underlying point is the process. The first reaction to the action of the "offender" is to seek to understand the motivations. The second reaction is to assess those motivations in light of one's own spiritual doctrine (which necessitates that one examines and fully understands his own doctrine). The third reaction is acceptance or rejection of the action.
However, the process of assessing motivations and agreement with doctrinal purity begs the underlying questions of legalism and accountability. How legalistically does one interpret a document, making any reformer automatically at odds with the interpretation, but maybe not necessarily with the underlying content from which the human interpretation grows? And what human is able to decide the question of doctrinal purity? The one who argues the best? The most charismatic? The best educated?
Israel was scared. They were scared of civil war, but they were ready to go to war over a perceived sin. All of us would be wise to take a lesson from their behavior in learning how to resolve conflicts.
Today's OT reading had an interesting story. The people of Reuben, Gad, and the half-tribe of Manasseh are answering accusations from the rest of Israel that building an altar on the "wrong side" of the Jordan somehow is a sin against God. Israel sends a large contingent of people to asses whether they have sinned, and to understand what to do next. The fear of the accusers is that the actions of Reuben, Gad, and the half tribe of Manasseh will plunge Israel into a civil war, destroying the nation.
The response of the accused is that no, their intent was not to sin, but to function as a memorial that they, too, worship the same God, even though they are geographically cut off (by the Jordan) from the rest of the people of Israel. It is "a reminder of the relationship both of us have with the Lord." Joshua 22:28. Their fear is that the descendants of people on the other side of the river will not accept their faith, due to the geographic distance. The purpose of the altar is to justify their faith. The justification of that faith is acceptable to the main tribes of Israel, and thus, civil war is averted.
The actions and reactions stir up many questions. These questions are echoed throughout history in the idea of whether one is worshipping "in the correct way." Jesus will divide Judaism in His worshipping "the right way." Martin Luther will divide Catholicism forever with his statement of protest. Many church reformers attempt to bring a frozen doctrinal approach back to life by getting to the heart of the matter, the content of faith rather than the form of faith. And what do you do when you are confronted by such a reformer?
The lesson of Israel is pretty clear. Try to understand the "reformer" (here the tribes of Reuben and Gad, etc), and then see how it fits in one's theology. Israel was contented that Reuben and Gad were not trying to reform Judaism (the altar was a memorial, it was not for burnt offerings, which would have been a true break from the the scriptural doctrine in Moses and Deuteronomy), and so they accepted the actions of Reuben and Gad.
But what do you do when a reform is attempted? Rather than reject it out of hand, attempt to understand it, and then identify whether the message of the reformer is consistent with scriptural doctrine. In this case, the actions of Reuben and Gad were consistent with scriptural doctrine. But, the message of Jesus was not wholly consistent with Judaic scriptural doctrine at the time. Although there were extensive similarities, the fundamental doctrine of Jesus is at odds with Judaic doctrine. Similarly, Martin Luther's message was not consistent with Catholic doctrine, leading to the Protestant reformation.
The underlying point is the process. The first reaction to the action of the "offender" is to seek to understand the motivations. The second reaction is to assess those motivations in light of one's own spiritual doctrine (which necessitates that one examines and fully understands his own doctrine). The third reaction is acceptance or rejection of the action.
However, the process of assessing motivations and agreement with doctrinal purity begs the underlying questions of legalism and accountability. How legalistically does one interpret a document, making any reformer automatically at odds with the interpretation, but maybe not necessarily with the underlying content from which the human interpretation grows? And what human is able to decide the question of doctrinal purity? The one who argues the best? The most charismatic? The best educated?
Israel was scared. They were scared of civil war, but they were ready to go to war over a perceived sin. All of us would be wise to take a lesson from their behavior in learning how to resolve conflicts.
Monday, April 5, 2010
The practice of truth
In the NT reading today, Luke 11:28, I read,
"But even more blessed are all who hear the word of God and put it into practice."
Jesus says this in response to a woman who shouted out a blessing on Jesus' mother, who nursed Him and cared for Him. Jesus' response was emblematic of a seminal truth of His ministry. Someone gave birth to Jesus. Someone nursed Him, and cared for Him as a child. Those are facts, but they are dead, past facts. It is good to know that those are facts. Knowledge of the truth is important, but even more important is the daily practice of truth. It is one thing to study, and learn, and build a basis of knowledge, but without daily practice of what that knowledge teaches, and application to one's life and the lives of those with whom we come into contact, that truth is a sterile, useless idea. It is the practice that blesses others, and in so doing, blesses ourselves.
But what is the truth? The reading from the NT struck me today. I saw similarities in it when compared to the earlier readings of Matthew and Mark. And I know there are similarities to John, although John's accounts are, for me, more difficult to understand. So, we see a "Truth" reflected in four different ways. Does that mean that there are just as many versions of the truth as there are observers of it? Is my "truth" any more or less valid than yours? Can I point to my bible quote and say, "See, right here, I am doing it right, and you are doing it wrong!"?
The process of Luke, to me, is a fundamental struggle in the Bible. Here is a wonderful communicator, summing up accounts of Jesus ministry for his Greek audience, even though he was not present. How alike are we to him. We can only know through the accounts of others. These are not our own eyewitness accounts, but we can know the story through others; in our culture, that "other-ness" is the Bible.
But we come back to the knowledge of truth. Sure, Jesus lived and had an amazing ministry. But, so what? What is the value of the knowledge of that truth without its practice? And if there are just as many versions of the truth as there are observers, creating a deconstructionism paradise, fueling the final argument that there is no such thing as a final "Truth," so why bother, then how do we practice the truth.
As Jesus has said, the result is similar to knowing what type of tree you are viewing by seeing its fruit. In today's section, He describes what it is like when you are practicing the truth. "...your whole life will be radiant, as though a floodlight is shining on you." (Luke 11:36)
Put a fig tree in Tennessee, it will grow figs. Put a fig tree in France, it will grow figs. Maybe the figs will taste a little different, due to climate, soil, air, water, but at the end of the day, the fruits will share elements of that essential "fig-ness" which is the truth of the fig tree.
While we all may have our own versions of the truth, the truth still, underneath it all, tastes the same. It is a representation of the fundamental moral order in the universe which binds all things and was brought to us in Christ. When we practice that truth, for ourselves and others, we become radiant, and blessings flow into us, just as they flow out of us to others. God gave us the key to His love in the body of Jesus. What a gift of truth!
"But even more blessed are all who hear the word of God and put it into practice."
Jesus says this in response to a woman who shouted out a blessing on Jesus' mother, who nursed Him and cared for Him. Jesus' response was emblematic of a seminal truth of His ministry. Someone gave birth to Jesus. Someone nursed Him, and cared for Him as a child. Those are facts, but they are dead, past facts. It is good to know that those are facts. Knowledge of the truth is important, but even more important is the daily practice of truth. It is one thing to study, and learn, and build a basis of knowledge, but without daily practice of what that knowledge teaches, and application to one's life and the lives of those with whom we come into contact, that truth is a sterile, useless idea. It is the practice that blesses others, and in so doing, blesses ourselves.
But what is the truth? The reading from the NT struck me today. I saw similarities in it when compared to the earlier readings of Matthew and Mark. And I know there are similarities to John, although John's accounts are, for me, more difficult to understand. So, we see a "Truth" reflected in four different ways. Does that mean that there are just as many versions of the truth as there are observers of it? Is my "truth" any more or less valid than yours? Can I point to my bible quote and say, "See, right here, I am doing it right, and you are doing it wrong!"?
The process of Luke, to me, is a fundamental struggle in the Bible. Here is a wonderful communicator, summing up accounts of Jesus ministry for his Greek audience, even though he was not present. How alike are we to him. We can only know through the accounts of others. These are not our own eyewitness accounts, but we can know the story through others; in our culture, that "other-ness" is the Bible.
But we come back to the knowledge of truth. Sure, Jesus lived and had an amazing ministry. But, so what? What is the value of the knowledge of that truth without its practice? And if there are just as many versions of the truth as there are observers, creating a deconstructionism paradise, fueling the final argument that there is no such thing as a final "Truth," so why bother, then how do we practice the truth.
As Jesus has said, the result is similar to knowing what type of tree you are viewing by seeing its fruit. In today's section, He describes what it is like when you are practicing the truth. "...your whole life will be radiant, as though a floodlight is shining on you." (Luke 11:36)
Put a fig tree in Tennessee, it will grow figs. Put a fig tree in France, it will grow figs. Maybe the figs will taste a little different, due to climate, soil, air, water, but at the end of the day, the fruits will share elements of that essential "fig-ness" which is the truth of the fig tree.
While we all may have our own versions of the truth, the truth still, underneath it all, tastes the same. It is a representation of the fundamental moral order in the universe which binds all things and was brought to us in Christ. When we practice that truth, for ourselves and others, we become radiant, and blessings flow into us, just as they flow out of us to others. God gave us the key to His love in the body of Jesus. What a gift of truth!
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Worship
In the NT reading today, we see two sisters. One, Mary, sits at the feet of Jesus while the other, Martha, prepares the meal. (Luke 10:38-42) When Martha complains about her sister to Jesus, Jesus comments that Mary has discovered the only thing worth being concerned about, and that He would not take that away from her.
I am by nature an obsessive "doer." I have a hard time relaxing, and I tend to be a bit of a workaholic. Seeing people who are content to just sit there and do nothing, even though they say they are "worshipping" has always griped me. It is in my nature to feel like I ought to be doing something, and that they should do something also.
That is a temporal point of view. I am made the way I am made. It is in my nature to be doing things, preparing things, and organizing things. Because that is my nature, how can I hold it against someone who is not made like that? Instead, in my life, I have discovered that I can take the way I am made and use it in worship. Even though those shiftless, good-for-nothing layabouts take advantage... (big breath... breathe...) I can still use my nature good humoredly for worship.
I am being a little facetious here on purpose, but I know I have felt like Martha before. I know I struggle with that still. Aren't we supposed to be doing something in worship? Can we just sit around and let other people do things for us, and still be just as valued? If someone is made "lazy" but emotionally giving, does that make him or her "less" or "more" valuable than someone who is "industrious" but judgemental? The answer lies in using the way we are made in ways that express love and worship for Him and others. I am fortunate to have this personality, because it is effortless for me to pass on God's gift of action to others. That is a blessing to me, a blessing I continually remind myself of, especially when my human nature kicks in and starts shouting, "Unfair!" at people like Mary who let everyone else do the work. What kind of world would it be if everyone were like her, disorganized, chaotic, starving... Of course, what kind of world would it be with a bunch of Martha's and Philip's around, uptight, humorless, stingy...
At the end of the day, I am what I am, and I try to dedicate that to God. I am thankful for the frustrations I feel because they remind me of how much I have, and how much I have to let go of. I get that message loud and clear every day. I see the wall between me and God, and because of that vision, I see God more clearly. I am blessed beyond measure by the way I am made.
I am by nature an obsessive "doer." I have a hard time relaxing, and I tend to be a bit of a workaholic. Seeing people who are content to just sit there and do nothing, even though they say they are "worshipping" has always griped me. It is in my nature to feel like I ought to be doing something, and that they should do something also.
That is a temporal point of view. I am made the way I am made. It is in my nature to be doing things, preparing things, and organizing things. Because that is my nature, how can I hold it against someone who is not made like that? Instead, in my life, I have discovered that I can take the way I am made and use it in worship. Even though those shiftless, good-for-nothing layabouts take advantage... (big breath... breathe...) I can still use my nature good humoredly for worship.
I am being a little facetious here on purpose, but I know I have felt like Martha before. I know I struggle with that still. Aren't we supposed to be doing something in worship? Can we just sit around and let other people do things for us, and still be just as valued? If someone is made "lazy" but emotionally giving, does that make him or her "less" or "more" valuable than someone who is "industrious" but judgemental? The answer lies in using the way we are made in ways that express love and worship for Him and others. I am fortunate to have this personality, because it is effortless for me to pass on God's gift of action to others. That is a blessing to me, a blessing I continually remind myself of, especially when my human nature kicks in and starts shouting, "Unfair!" at people like Mary who let everyone else do the work. What kind of world would it be if everyone were like her, disorganized, chaotic, starving... Of course, what kind of world would it be with a bunch of Martha's and Philip's around, uptight, humorless, stingy...
At the end of the day, I am what I am, and I try to dedicate that to God. I am thankful for the frustrations I feel because they remind me of how much I have, and how much I have to let go of. I get that message loud and clear every day. I see the wall between me and God, and because of that vision, I see God more clearly. I am blessed beyond measure by the way I am made.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Responsibilities
Reading through the OT section today, and then extending into the NT reading, I am struck with the balance of personal versus social responsibilities referenced, and how far society seems to be tending away from this balance.
Deuteronomy 23:1-25:19 gives a variety of proscriptions of behavior, and admonishes the society to take care of each other, but also does not neglect to inform the individual of appropriate, and inappropriate behavior. Some of the rules don't make as much sense to us as an audience, because culture has changed so much, but at the end of the reading, one can see that for a society to flourish, both personal and social responsibilities must be heeded. If society tends to far away from either approach, the society will not flourish.
For example, we can all have personal responsibility all day long, but bad things happen to well intentioned people. If a personally responsible individual has an unfortunate accident, and the society does not take social responsibility for that individual, then we see the creation of a severely impoverished lower class being victimized by a class of people whose only real blessing is that nothing bad has happened to them. Life becomes a reflection of chance, and not of Godly intent, in that case.
However, if there is too much social responsibility, and the concept of personal responsibility is left unattended (at best), or ridiculed (at worst), then we have a welfare state where the soul is impoverished by lack of attending to its own growth. I fear we have seen the pendulum swing, in our time (the last 2000 years) to a point where personal responsibility is jeered. Society will take care of those who cannot or will not care for themselves. Those who can will be taxed to take care of those who can't, or won't.
But, what will be the inevitable result of the lack of balance? Both types of civilizations ultimately fail. The best civilization is the type of civilization that encourages both social and personal responsibility, as was demonstrated in the multitude of proscriptions given in the OT reading. People look at some of the non-sensical commands in this section, and use literalism and legalism to denounce the teaching, without getting to the fundamental point of what the teaching is about.
It's about both personal and civic responsibility. Care of each other, and care for one's self. Personal self control and public interest. Without one or the other, the civilization's tendency is downward.
I am saddened by what seems to be a right wing hatred of those who appear to be shiftless and lazy, not working or caring for themselves. I am also saddened by a left-wing rejection of "family values" as cheap, legalistic sentimentality. Both points of view have their merits, but taken without love, taken without earnest prayer and a focus on God, the arguments become messages of despair and selfishness.
God teaches us in the OT, be responsible in your own life, and be responsible for your neighbor. If everyone does this, and keeps his eye on God, we would flourish. It's just sad the world has fallen so far out of balance.
Deuteronomy 23:1-25:19 gives a variety of proscriptions of behavior, and admonishes the society to take care of each other, but also does not neglect to inform the individual of appropriate, and inappropriate behavior. Some of the rules don't make as much sense to us as an audience, because culture has changed so much, but at the end of the reading, one can see that for a society to flourish, both personal and social responsibilities must be heeded. If society tends to far away from either approach, the society will not flourish.
For example, we can all have personal responsibility all day long, but bad things happen to well intentioned people. If a personally responsible individual has an unfortunate accident, and the society does not take social responsibility for that individual, then we see the creation of a severely impoverished lower class being victimized by a class of people whose only real blessing is that nothing bad has happened to them. Life becomes a reflection of chance, and not of Godly intent, in that case.
However, if there is too much social responsibility, and the concept of personal responsibility is left unattended (at best), or ridiculed (at worst), then we have a welfare state where the soul is impoverished by lack of attending to its own growth. I fear we have seen the pendulum swing, in our time (the last 2000 years) to a point where personal responsibility is jeered. Society will take care of those who cannot or will not care for themselves. Those who can will be taxed to take care of those who can't, or won't.
But, what will be the inevitable result of the lack of balance? Both types of civilizations ultimately fail. The best civilization is the type of civilization that encourages both social and personal responsibility, as was demonstrated in the multitude of proscriptions given in the OT reading. People look at some of the non-sensical commands in this section, and use literalism and legalism to denounce the teaching, without getting to the fundamental point of what the teaching is about.
It's about both personal and civic responsibility. Care of each other, and care for one's self. Personal self control and public interest. Without one or the other, the civilization's tendency is downward.
I am saddened by what seems to be a right wing hatred of those who appear to be shiftless and lazy, not working or caring for themselves. I am also saddened by a left-wing rejection of "family values" as cheap, legalistic sentimentality. Both points of view have their merits, but taken without love, taken without earnest prayer and a focus on God, the arguments become messages of despair and selfishness.
God teaches us in the OT, be responsible in your own life, and be responsible for your neighbor. If everyone does this, and keeps his eye on God, we would flourish. It's just sad the world has fallen so far out of balance.
Monday, March 29, 2010
my vision
Be careful what you ask for in prayer...
Last night, I got into a serious pose with God. That's happened only a couple of times before in my life, but when it has, something has happened to change me. Last night, before I went to sleep, I got into that serious discussion with God and told Him that I really needed Him to help. Oftentimes my prayers are generic requests for blessings on others, or for forgiveness of my sins, but every so often, they are serious heart-to-heart requests for help. Like last night.
At 2:30, I woke up. That's not really all that common for me, and I was just laying there. Suddenly, I had a startling vision, unbidden, and out of nowhere. It had dream-like qualities, where I was both in and observing the same object, but I was awake.
It was dark. There was this very large plain of dead grass, stretching out as far as the eye could see. It was cold, but I could not feel the cold. There were stars in the sky. No moon. No wind. No sound. Total stillness.
There was a statue on the plain. It was life-sized, and it was of a man standing. He was looking down and to the right, as though he were looking at the ground, and not just at it, but through it. Getting close to the statue, I realized it was me. But there was no color in the statue. It was black, like it was opaque, cold glass, and it was reflecting the points of starlight. I looked down at where the statue was looking, and I saw what it was seeing. I realized I was on a vast landfill, but more than a landfill, a grave site. As I was able to see underneath the grass, I saw images I did not at first understand, but quickly realized that they were the remains of my life so far. I saw all the dreams of others I had destroyed. I saw memories of my first marriage, frozen in time, shimmering as though underwater. And they had lost their color, and were like corpses, cold, lifeless, frozen in decay. I kept looking, and the more I looked, the more I saw. I saw memories of old relationships, I saw the self esteem of women whose love I had been gifted with protecting, and which I had destroyed by being critical or self-righteous. I saw their dreams, their desires, all frozen in my landfill. I even saw the hurts I had inflicted on my second wife. Even though my conscious mind tries hard to justify my behavior in the marriage, I saw all the things that mind never let me see happening to her at the time they were happening. Images of all the past hurt I was responsible for were everywhere I looked. Once I realized the contents of the landfill, and its vastness, I felt like I would quickly be overcome, and so I looked up at the statue again. He was frozen in position, staring at the ground while the images kept shifting under his gaze. And then I was inside the statue, looking down, seeing the images, unable to look away. I felt the cold, and it was beyond cold. It was a total absence of heat, but I could not feel anything like the cold of life. I realized I knew it was cold, but somehow, in the statue, I was beyond the ability to feel it as cold. It was sterile, lonely, emptiness. And still the images kept coming before the eyes of the statue. I, the vision I, was horrified by the honesty of it, but I realized that I, the statue I, was beyond horror, was even beyond regret. No tears, no sadness, no ability to feel anything at all. It was just what it was, and there was no changing it, ever. Cold replays of deaths I had caused, deaths of dreams, deaths of hope, deaths of esteem. And the landfill was so huge, I knew I would never get to the end of it all, but I couldn't turn my gaze away. It was just me, alone, the statue, in the middle of the vast plain, with only my dead to see.
At that point, the vision ended, and I heard a voice in my heart say, you have a choice. And then I saw a different path. I saw a path where I ended, and where those I could help began. The flowing, color filled lives of others without me in them, but lives that I had the opportunity to touch. And it was like a park, with laughter and sound, and somewhere, off in the distance, I saw something that looked like me, but was moving, constantly moving. Green, growing, and moving, touching people's lives, smiling with joy, and moving on.
I started this mitzvot praying for a change in myself. Knowing I needed it. Hoping that reflections on God's word would change me and get me to a place I respect in others, that ability to give and love freely. If some vision like this comes, and pertains to a change in me, even if it has no scriptural reference for the NT or OT reading of the day, then I have to write about it in the broader context of what the mizvot is all about. Regardless of the spectrum of deconstructionism vs legalism in biblical interpretation, the fact is that God IS. I believe. That is my faith. If faith begets a change, then the mitzvot is working. Prayer, serious heart to heart prayer, works.
I was shown last night how people have been forced to defend themselves from me, and no matter how badly that hurts to know, I have to take that as part of the journey toward healing. If this seems like a self-absorbed post, maybe my reflections on how prayer works will be helpful to someone else in the future. What else is all this for, if not that?
Last night, I got into a serious pose with God. That's happened only a couple of times before in my life, but when it has, something has happened to change me. Last night, before I went to sleep, I got into that serious discussion with God and told Him that I really needed Him to help. Oftentimes my prayers are generic requests for blessings on others, or for forgiveness of my sins, but every so often, they are serious heart-to-heart requests for help. Like last night.
At 2:30, I woke up. That's not really all that common for me, and I was just laying there. Suddenly, I had a startling vision, unbidden, and out of nowhere. It had dream-like qualities, where I was both in and observing the same object, but I was awake.
It was dark. There was this very large plain of dead grass, stretching out as far as the eye could see. It was cold, but I could not feel the cold. There were stars in the sky. No moon. No wind. No sound. Total stillness.
There was a statue on the plain. It was life-sized, and it was of a man standing. He was looking down and to the right, as though he were looking at the ground, and not just at it, but through it. Getting close to the statue, I realized it was me. But there was no color in the statue. It was black, like it was opaque, cold glass, and it was reflecting the points of starlight. I looked down at where the statue was looking, and I saw what it was seeing. I realized I was on a vast landfill, but more than a landfill, a grave site. As I was able to see underneath the grass, I saw images I did not at first understand, but quickly realized that they were the remains of my life so far. I saw all the dreams of others I had destroyed. I saw memories of my first marriage, frozen in time, shimmering as though underwater. And they had lost their color, and were like corpses, cold, lifeless, frozen in decay. I kept looking, and the more I looked, the more I saw. I saw memories of old relationships, I saw the self esteem of women whose love I had been gifted with protecting, and which I had destroyed by being critical or self-righteous. I saw their dreams, their desires, all frozen in my landfill. I even saw the hurts I had inflicted on my second wife. Even though my conscious mind tries hard to justify my behavior in the marriage, I saw all the things that mind never let me see happening to her at the time they were happening. Images of all the past hurt I was responsible for were everywhere I looked. Once I realized the contents of the landfill, and its vastness, I felt like I would quickly be overcome, and so I looked up at the statue again. He was frozen in position, staring at the ground while the images kept shifting under his gaze. And then I was inside the statue, looking down, seeing the images, unable to look away. I felt the cold, and it was beyond cold. It was a total absence of heat, but I could not feel anything like the cold of life. I realized I knew it was cold, but somehow, in the statue, I was beyond the ability to feel it as cold. It was sterile, lonely, emptiness. And still the images kept coming before the eyes of the statue. I, the vision I, was horrified by the honesty of it, but I realized that I, the statue I, was beyond horror, was even beyond regret. No tears, no sadness, no ability to feel anything at all. It was just what it was, and there was no changing it, ever. Cold replays of deaths I had caused, deaths of dreams, deaths of hope, deaths of esteem. And the landfill was so huge, I knew I would never get to the end of it all, but I couldn't turn my gaze away. It was just me, alone, the statue, in the middle of the vast plain, with only my dead to see.
At that point, the vision ended, and I heard a voice in my heart say, you have a choice. And then I saw a different path. I saw a path where I ended, and where those I could help began. The flowing, color filled lives of others without me in them, but lives that I had the opportunity to touch. And it was like a park, with laughter and sound, and somewhere, off in the distance, I saw something that looked like me, but was moving, constantly moving. Green, growing, and moving, touching people's lives, smiling with joy, and moving on.
I started this mitzvot praying for a change in myself. Knowing I needed it. Hoping that reflections on God's word would change me and get me to a place I respect in others, that ability to give and love freely. If some vision like this comes, and pertains to a change in me, even if it has no scriptural reference for the NT or OT reading of the day, then I have to write about it in the broader context of what the mizvot is all about. Regardless of the spectrum of deconstructionism vs legalism in biblical interpretation, the fact is that God IS. I believe. That is my faith. If faith begets a change, then the mitzvot is working. Prayer, serious heart to heart prayer, works.
I was shown last night how people have been forced to defend themselves from me, and no matter how badly that hurts to know, I have to take that as part of the journey toward healing. If this seems like a self-absorbed post, maybe my reflections on how prayer works will be helpful to someone else in the future. What else is all this for, if not that?
Sunday, March 28, 2010
...they had refused John's baptism.
Oh boy. Behind again. I work out. All the time. At the beginning of every year, there is a sudden influx of people who are trying to "get in shape." They last about three months, and then they start to tail off around March and April. Those of us who work out routinely suffer patiently through the excesses of the New Year's Resolutioners who come and over-exercise for January and February, and then start to vanish in March. We know their end is near...
But, as a someone who is normally a routine-keeper, I am finding myself chagrined for being one of "those people" if not physically, then spiritually. That is, I wonder if I am tailing off of my discipline to stick with the program and continue to write as a way of processing the words of God, as another way of learning it, a more active way. I did well in January and February, and now find myself, similar to "those people," tailing off in March and April.
So, I am behind a couple of days. I have decided to write something personal, in the NT reading for 3/26, Luke 7:30.
"But the Pharisees and experts in religious law had rejected God's plan for them, for they had refused John's baptism."
The majority of my writing has dealt with a discourse on legalism versus deconstructionism. It has been repetitive, not because I can't go much deeper than the main points of faith, but because extension into sub-themes of deconstructionism and literary theory defeats the point of shying away from legalism. That is, an excess of discourse in non-legalistic theory becomes its own brand of intellectual religion and destroys the validity of the arguments.
If I spent chapters and days deconstructing the text, or writing about Derrida's principle arguments, I would be wordsmithing, and missing the very simple tension that is directly under the surface of the text of the Bible. By prattling on about philosophical theory, I would undo my points against legalism by using a legalistic pattern of deconstruction.
So, I am torn by the process of staying shallow, but appearing repetitive. What I then must face is therefore what speaks most emotionally to me in the text, as a way of understanding it by non-legalistic approaches.
So, since I am facing baptism, a sacrament I have so far steadfastly refused for my own intellectual reasons, I feel emotionally confused by it. What does it mean when a person refuses baptism? Is it pride? That's a sin. Is it fear? Paul writes that perfect love casts out fear, and I believe him. Is it rationalization? Well, probably, but this is the problem. Does the rationalization become the same rationalization that the Pharisees used to reject baptism? And have I been nothing more that that which I desire not to be, a legalistic Pharisee, refusing baptism? Am I the rich man for whom it is harder to get into heaven than a camel getting through the eye of a needle because I cannot shed myself of my "riches," in this case, the intellect that causes me to rationalize myself away from baptism.
John taught that baptism was a change of heart, that the change was of the heart, and that our salvation was not in our lineage (a legalistic point of view) but in our attitude and relationship with God and each other. For so long, I have chosen not to seek baptism, and in the reading from 3/26, I see that I have *great* company in my decisions, the Pharisees!
But I have always shied away from it because doing it seemed so legalistic! Churches tell you that you must do it, or you are not a true Christian. Now who is Phariseeical? If Jesus is to break the stranglehold of legalism, how can legalist sacrament honor His desire?
This is a very personal topic for me as I get ready to face the waters. I have discussed this with many people, and doubtless will continue to discuss it. All I can say is that some of the best answers to this question are indirect, in Luke 6:43. Jesus touches upon the way a person or a tree is known, by the fruit it produces. Baptism, non-baptism... Does that matter as much as, do I do "good?" Is being a "Christian" making me a better person than I was before. I am much happier, but am I "good?" Do I have love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness, and self-control? Or, better yet, do people that I come into contact with gain any of these from knowing me in my relationship with Christ?
I knew a wonderful woman once, who inspired me spiritually and still does. I hope some day I could have that effect on someone else, someone who was as in need as I was. I have been saved by so many people, in their relationship with Christ. If baptism can give me that chance to pass that on to another, then it is worth any temporal discomfiture that may have, unconsciously, been blocking me.
But, as a someone who is normally a routine-keeper, I am finding myself chagrined for being one of "those people" if not physically, then spiritually. That is, I wonder if I am tailing off of my discipline to stick with the program and continue to write as a way of processing the words of God, as another way of learning it, a more active way. I did well in January and February, and now find myself, similar to "those people," tailing off in March and April.
So, I am behind a couple of days. I have decided to write something personal, in the NT reading for 3/26, Luke 7:30.
"But the Pharisees and experts in religious law had rejected God's plan for them, for they had refused John's baptism."
The majority of my writing has dealt with a discourse on legalism versus deconstructionism. It has been repetitive, not because I can't go much deeper than the main points of faith, but because extension into sub-themes of deconstructionism and literary theory defeats the point of shying away from legalism. That is, an excess of discourse in non-legalistic theory becomes its own brand of intellectual religion and destroys the validity of the arguments.
If I spent chapters and days deconstructing the text, or writing about Derrida's principle arguments, I would be wordsmithing, and missing the very simple tension that is directly under the surface of the text of the Bible. By prattling on about philosophical theory, I would undo my points against legalism by using a legalistic pattern of deconstruction.
So, I am torn by the process of staying shallow, but appearing repetitive. What I then must face is therefore what speaks most emotionally to me in the text, as a way of understanding it by non-legalistic approaches.
So, since I am facing baptism, a sacrament I have so far steadfastly refused for my own intellectual reasons, I feel emotionally confused by it. What does it mean when a person refuses baptism? Is it pride? That's a sin. Is it fear? Paul writes that perfect love casts out fear, and I believe him. Is it rationalization? Well, probably, but this is the problem. Does the rationalization become the same rationalization that the Pharisees used to reject baptism? And have I been nothing more that that which I desire not to be, a legalistic Pharisee, refusing baptism? Am I the rich man for whom it is harder to get into heaven than a camel getting through the eye of a needle because I cannot shed myself of my "riches," in this case, the intellect that causes me to rationalize myself away from baptism.
John taught that baptism was a change of heart, that the change was of the heart, and that our salvation was not in our lineage (a legalistic point of view) but in our attitude and relationship with God and each other. For so long, I have chosen not to seek baptism, and in the reading from 3/26, I see that I have *great* company in my decisions, the Pharisees!
But I have always shied away from it because doing it seemed so legalistic! Churches tell you that you must do it, or you are not a true Christian. Now who is Phariseeical? If Jesus is to break the stranglehold of legalism, how can legalist sacrament honor His desire?
This is a very personal topic for me as I get ready to face the waters. I have discussed this with many people, and doubtless will continue to discuss it. All I can say is that some of the best answers to this question are indirect, in Luke 6:43. Jesus touches upon the way a person or a tree is known, by the fruit it produces. Baptism, non-baptism... Does that matter as much as, do I do "good?" Is being a "Christian" making me a better person than I was before. I am much happier, but am I "good?" Do I have love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness, and self-control? Or, better yet, do people that I come into contact with gain any of these from knowing me in my relationship with Christ?
I knew a wonderful woman once, who inspired me spiritually and still does. I hope some day I could have that effect on someone else, someone who was as in need as I was. I have been saved by so many people, in their relationship with Christ. If baptism can give me that chance to pass that on to another, then it is worth any temporal discomfiture that may have, unconsciously, been blocking me.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
The Arc of Legalism
OT today, Deuteronomy 1:17-18
"When you make decisions, never favor those who are rich; be fair to lowly and great alike. Don't be afraid of how they will react, for you are judging in the place of God."
NT today, Luke 6:7
"The teachers of religious law and the Pharisees watched closely to see whether Jesus would heal the man on the Sabbath, because they were eager to find some legal charge to bring against him."
When I got to the OT section today, I was impressed. Over and over, the admonitions of God in the OT have much more to do with the advocacy of the divine and eternal rather than advocacy of the temporal. God tells the Israelites to act in faith and in love. The establishment of judges is initially designed to be an advocacy for truth over favoritism. The truth is immutable, eternal, and perfect. Disputes among people should not be judged relative to the people, but relative to the truth. When God was with the Israelites, the truth was very close. The judges were to seek this truth, and not sway from the truth, regardless of the people involved in the case.
But when God is not around, how do we seek the truth? If our hearts and spirits are not aligned to God, then we must, by default, either use tradition or human rationality. If we use tradition, we become frozen in time even though the culture moves on around us. If we use rationality, as flawed creatures, then we run the risk of our flawed rationality making mistakes, and potentially making a mockery of our pursuit of truth. And, if in our weakness of spirit and confidence, we create a situation which only tolerates weak-minded individuals who practice the "truth" we come up with in our flawed manner, then the "truth" gradually begins to lose its meaning relative to the real truth that God intended for us to seek.
When we get to this point, our "truth" becomes a self-sustaining collection of laws and arrogance. Until, one day, God Himself returns, and we are unable to recognize His truth because we are blinded by our own, possibly well-intended, "truth" that we have been practicing for generations. So, threatened by the real truth that is so far away from the "truths" we have created in our own image, we look for ways to find some legal charge to bring against Him. We have forgotten to use our heart and our spirit, relying instead on tradition and rationality.
But the heart and spirit is individual. Can I look into your heart and see what is there? No. Can you look into mine and see what is there? Of course not. Our spirituality is individual and unique. But if I write words, and you write back, then we can, by our rationality, agree on our intent and content. Without the uniqueness and irrationality of spiritual worship, we create our own legalism. But with irrational spirituality, we don't lose sight of the Truth as God intended, and our hearts remain aligned with that Truth.
It's the inevitable push/pull of the rational and irrational. A balancing act, on which one side is chaotic spirituality, and the other side is heartless rationality. The tug between the two keeps one centered, because if one strays too far from that center, one loses sight of God.
Structure is important, but so is heart. The arc of legalism is the loss of that heart. Once that heart is lost, we will crucify the Truth. But without rationality, culture can overtake a tradition and warp it so that we lose sight of God as well. Exercising both facets of our personalities, and practicing with faith, and humility in our own ignorance, seems to be the way to avoid these traps.
"When you make decisions, never favor those who are rich; be fair to lowly and great alike. Don't be afraid of how they will react, for you are judging in the place of God."
NT today, Luke 6:7
"The teachers of religious law and the Pharisees watched closely to see whether Jesus would heal the man on the Sabbath, because they were eager to find some legal charge to bring against him."
When I got to the OT section today, I was impressed. Over and over, the admonitions of God in the OT have much more to do with the advocacy of the divine and eternal rather than advocacy of the temporal. God tells the Israelites to act in faith and in love. The establishment of judges is initially designed to be an advocacy for truth over favoritism. The truth is immutable, eternal, and perfect. Disputes among people should not be judged relative to the people, but relative to the truth. When God was with the Israelites, the truth was very close. The judges were to seek this truth, and not sway from the truth, regardless of the people involved in the case.
But when God is not around, how do we seek the truth? If our hearts and spirits are not aligned to God, then we must, by default, either use tradition or human rationality. If we use tradition, we become frozen in time even though the culture moves on around us. If we use rationality, as flawed creatures, then we run the risk of our flawed rationality making mistakes, and potentially making a mockery of our pursuit of truth. And, if in our weakness of spirit and confidence, we create a situation which only tolerates weak-minded individuals who practice the "truth" we come up with in our flawed manner, then the "truth" gradually begins to lose its meaning relative to the real truth that God intended for us to seek.
When we get to this point, our "truth" becomes a self-sustaining collection of laws and arrogance. Until, one day, God Himself returns, and we are unable to recognize His truth because we are blinded by our own, possibly well-intended, "truth" that we have been practicing for generations. So, threatened by the real truth that is so far away from the "truths" we have created in our own image, we look for ways to find some legal charge to bring against Him. We have forgotten to use our heart and our spirit, relying instead on tradition and rationality.
But the heart and spirit is individual. Can I look into your heart and see what is there? No. Can you look into mine and see what is there? Of course not. Our spirituality is individual and unique. But if I write words, and you write back, then we can, by our rationality, agree on our intent and content. Without the uniqueness and irrationality of spiritual worship, we create our own legalism. But with irrational spirituality, we don't lose sight of the Truth as God intended, and our hearts remain aligned with that Truth.
It's the inevitable push/pull of the rational and irrational. A balancing act, on which one side is chaotic spirituality, and the other side is heartless rationality. The tug between the two keeps one centered, because if one strays too far from that center, one loses sight of God.
Structure is important, but so is heart. The arc of legalism is the loss of that heart. Once that heart is lost, we will crucify the Truth. But without rationality, culture can overtake a tradition and warp it so that we lose sight of God as well. Exercising both facets of our personalities, and practicing with faith, and humility in our own ignorance, seems to be the way to avoid these traps.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Human nature
Still catching up... Today, I am struck by the section in the NT reading for 3/20. This is the section in Luke where Jesus states that a prophet is never accepted in his hometown. (Luke 4:16-30). I know I have written about this before, but Luke's expanded account of the interaction gives more richness to the story and allows a greater expansion of ideas.
It's hard to imagine gathering up a man and trying to throw him off a cliff simply because he has said he is God's chosen one. I try to think of the anger that leads the mob to do such a thing, and then I try to think of the etiology of that anger. I put myself in the place of the person sitting at the synagogue, looking across the rows at the face of the "chosen one" and assess how I would feel.
Here I am, having gone to the synagogue my whole life, knowing other people in my temple, including the man who says he is the chosen one. What would I think? Would I be frightened for the purity of my faith, because suddenly someone I know, someone I have worked beside, and who cannot possibly, therefore, be the chosen one (because he is the same level as I, who am not chosen in God's eyes), suddenly slaps my faith and says that he is? Would I feel responsible for making sure that scourge of my faith does not infect other people who don't know this man personally? Would I be angry because, well, why him? Why not me? Would there be any chance at all I might believe him? Would he just simply piss me off, given his presumption?
I think it is a combination of all those things. I think that Jesus obviously knew this, which is why He realized that miracles would be to no avail. In fact, they might work exactly opposite. Refusing to work miracles, refusing to create more strife (given His knowledge of human nature), was, in fact, a loving act. The rest of the story, and how He slips away at the end, given what we know of the entirety of His life, seems somewhat comical. I can almost imagine it as an old black and white keystone cops movie. But in the end, the story gives us a glimpse not only of human nature, but how well Jesus understands it, and how well He loves despite it.
It's hard to imagine gathering up a man and trying to throw him off a cliff simply because he has said he is God's chosen one. I try to think of the anger that leads the mob to do such a thing, and then I try to think of the etiology of that anger. I put myself in the place of the person sitting at the synagogue, looking across the rows at the face of the "chosen one" and assess how I would feel.
Here I am, having gone to the synagogue my whole life, knowing other people in my temple, including the man who says he is the chosen one. What would I think? Would I be frightened for the purity of my faith, because suddenly someone I know, someone I have worked beside, and who cannot possibly, therefore, be the chosen one (because he is the same level as I, who am not chosen in God's eyes), suddenly slaps my faith and says that he is? Would I feel responsible for making sure that scourge of my faith does not infect other people who don't know this man personally? Would I be angry because, well, why him? Why not me? Would there be any chance at all I might believe him? Would he just simply piss me off, given his presumption?
I think it is a combination of all those things. I think that Jesus obviously knew this, which is why He realized that miracles would be to no avail. In fact, they might work exactly opposite. Refusing to work miracles, refusing to create more strife (given His knowledge of human nature), was, in fact, a loving act. The rest of the story, and how He slips away at the end, given what we know of the entirety of His life, seems somewhat comical. I can almost imagine it as an old black and white keystone cops movie. But in the end, the story gives us a glimpse not only of human nature, but how well Jesus understands it, and how well He loves despite it.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
...by the way you live...
It's been another hard week. I have fallen behind in my reading, and this fact reminds me that I have been allowing life's temporal issues to crowd out that which is the foundation of my life. Without repairing the foundation, how can I hope to persist? Time to get serious again.
So, I am writing in arrears, a bit. This NT discussion is from the 3/18/10 reading, Luke 3:8.
"Prove by the way you live that you have really turned from your sins and turned to God."
This is a quote concerning the teaching of John the Baptist. John goes on to say that the people of Israel should not just say they are saved because they are descendents of Abraham. In effect, John is saying that actions speak louder than words. It is by our acts that we are judged, and our salvation is therefore not assured simply because we belong to a certain genetic offshoot. Our actions are in our control, and how we control those actions affects our salvation.
This has personal ramifications in my life currently. I have finally decided to get baptized. I had held off on baptism for a long time, even though I believe in Jesus, and profess to be a Christian. I grew up in Nashville, surrounded by these odd people I knew as Christians, and often seeing very un-Christ like behavior relative to the church. All my life, I met "legalists" who behaved any way they wanted because they were "saved." I started going to a church where the pastor worshipped the non-legalism of Christ's teachings, partly because legalism breeds sectarianism, excluding people from the community of faith. As he was a non-legalist, I had a hard time reconciling the legalistic point of view of the church that one had to be baptized in order to be saved. If I wanted to discuss the wonderful non-legalism of Christ with others, as a way of bringing them to God, would I appear to be a hypocrite by teaching non-legalism, yet having done something as legalistic as baptism was described to me?
So, I felt baptized in my heart and did not want to pursue the legalistic sacrement of physical water baptism, as a way of pursuing a non-legalistic faith for myself. Following Christ has definitely changed me as a person. Praying, reading, eschewing temporal things in favor of spiritual realities, have all changed me from the horrid person I was. It has taken me a long time to consider water baptism, but now it is starting to feel right, because it will be an expression of faith rather than a response to a legalistic recipe on "how to be the right kind of Christian."
So, I went to my first baptism class, and now I am relatively worried about it again. I was told about the "reasons for baptism" coming from Acts, and Peter's instructions at the Pentecost. It was described to me in very concrete-operational, legalistic terms. And then I was instructed that if I didn't behave right after I was done, then Hell was my destination.
So, I finally come to an understanding of the process of faith, and John's perspective on right actions and non-legalism, even while he was baptizing people, and I then get instructed on baptism in a highly legalistic manner.
At this point, my desire to be baptized remains, but it remains secondary to the common sense, anti-legalist stance of the main hero of baptism in the NT, John the Baptist. His approach to baptism was an anti-legalistic stance against people who thought they were saved by genetics and following the rules. He preached that it is in the way you live that salvation arises. Similarly, Jesus quotes Hosea 6:6 to counter the Phariseeical legalism of His day. I wish that churches could extend the anti-legalist interpretation of baptism also. It would definitely have helped me.
So, I am writing in arrears, a bit. This NT discussion is from the 3/18/10 reading, Luke 3:8.
"Prove by the way you live that you have really turned from your sins and turned to God."
This is a quote concerning the teaching of John the Baptist. John goes on to say that the people of Israel should not just say they are saved because they are descendents of Abraham. In effect, John is saying that actions speak louder than words. It is by our acts that we are judged, and our salvation is therefore not assured simply because we belong to a certain genetic offshoot. Our actions are in our control, and how we control those actions affects our salvation.
This has personal ramifications in my life currently. I have finally decided to get baptized. I had held off on baptism for a long time, even though I believe in Jesus, and profess to be a Christian. I grew up in Nashville, surrounded by these odd people I knew as Christians, and often seeing very un-Christ like behavior relative to the church. All my life, I met "legalists" who behaved any way they wanted because they were "saved." I started going to a church where the pastor worshipped the non-legalism of Christ's teachings, partly because legalism breeds sectarianism, excluding people from the community of faith. As he was a non-legalist, I had a hard time reconciling the legalistic point of view of the church that one had to be baptized in order to be saved. If I wanted to discuss the wonderful non-legalism of Christ with others, as a way of bringing them to God, would I appear to be a hypocrite by teaching non-legalism, yet having done something as legalistic as baptism was described to me?
So, I felt baptized in my heart and did not want to pursue the legalistic sacrement of physical water baptism, as a way of pursuing a non-legalistic faith for myself. Following Christ has definitely changed me as a person. Praying, reading, eschewing temporal things in favor of spiritual realities, have all changed me from the horrid person I was. It has taken me a long time to consider water baptism, but now it is starting to feel right, because it will be an expression of faith rather than a response to a legalistic recipe on "how to be the right kind of Christian."
So, I went to my first baptism class, and now I am relatively worried about it again. I was told about the "reasons for baptism" coming from Acts, and Peter's instructions at the Pentecost. It was described to me in very concrete-operational, legalistic terms. And then I was instructed that if I didn't behave right after I was done, then Hell was my destination.
So, I finally come to an understanding of the process of faith, and John's perspective on right actions and non-legalism, even while he was baptizing people, and I then get instructed on baptism in a highly legalistic manner.
At this point, my desire to be baptized remains, but it remains secondary to the common sense, anti-legalist stance of the main hero of baptism in the NT, John the Baptist. His approach to baptism was an anti-legalistic stance against people who thought they were saved by genetics and following the rules. He preached that it is in the way you live that salvation arises. Similarly, Jesus quotes Hosea 6:6 to counter the Phariseeical legalism of His day. I wish that churches could extend the anti-legalist interpretation of baptism also. It would definitely have helped me.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Luke, finally
It's hard to remember exactly how much I like the Gospel of Luke until I get back into it. It has been a couple of years, and frankly, much of my memories of Luke are overshadowed by the brilliant writings of Paul. However, after not having read Luke for a couple of years, and then having just read Matthew and Mark, I remember now how wonderful is Luke's gospel. (Personally, I dread reading through John, although so much of Christianity seems to quote from this text)
Regardless of my personal preferences, though, today's NT reading (Luke 2:1-35) seems to offer a rational description of an irrational occurrence. Again, I am reminded of this theme that seems to continually present through the Bible. It's one thing to hear John's rambling, apparently semi-literate, and sometimes incoherent (to me, at least) description of God's seeming irrationality. His descriptive style seems to fit the content. But to hear Luke rationally describe the irrational acts invites one into the push/pull aspect of Christian spirituality.
Why did God, in Jesus, come to us in the most unlikely and irrational of places, a pauper in a manger? Why did the angels reveal themselves to shepherds, the lowest social order at the time? Yet here these events are, described in remarkable clarity by Luke. The jarring admixture of coherent presentation of irrational content opens one's mind to the rationality of the irrational, or the spiritual irrationality of our supposed human "rationality." It's that facet which seems to undermine all attempts at legalistic interpretation of Christianity, and give ammunition to those who would reform frozen legalistic abuse of "Church" traditionalists.
And we see this interpretation immediately after we read the OT section which describes the value of killing people who corrupt our religious purity (Numbers 25:10-13), which seemingly defends legalism up to the point of killing non-legalists who violate religious purity laws. It is this baffling dichotomy of God, "What is God up to?" that, to me, gives the Judeo-Christian religion such purchase on our world. It makes no sense, yet it makes total sense.
Well, today, I was simply struck with how much I like reading Luke. And how much I will miss reading him in a few weeks. I will enjoy it while I can.
Regardless of my personal preferences, though, today's NT reading (Luke 2:1-35) seems to offer a rational description of an irrational occurrence. Again, I am reminded of this theme that seems to continually present through the Bible. It's one thing to hear John's rambling, apparently semi-literate, and sometimes incoherent (to me, at least) description of God's seeming irrationality. His descriptive style seems to fit the content. But to hear Luke rationally describe the irrational acts invites one into the push/pull aspect of Christian spirituality.
Why did God, in Jesus, come to us in the most unlikely and irrational of places, a pauper in a manger? Why did the angels reveal themselves to shepherds, the lowest social order at the time? Yet here these events are, described in remarkable clarity by Luke. The jarring admixture of coherent presentation of irrational content opens one's mind to the rationality of the irrational, or the spiritual irrationality of our supposed human "rationality." It's that facet which seems to undermine all attempts at legalistic interpretation of Christianity, and give ammunition to those who would reform frozen legalistic abuse of "Church" traditionalists.
And we see this interpretation immediately after we read the OT section which describes the value of killing people who corrupt our religious purity (Numbers 25:10-13), which seemingly defends legalism up to the point of killing non-legalists who violate religious purity laws. It is this baffling dichotomy of God, "What is God up to?" that, to me, gives the Judeo-Christian religion such purchase on our world. It makes no sense, yet it makes total sense.
Well, today, I was simply struck with how much I like reading Luke. And how much I will miss reading him in a few weeks. I will enjoy it while I can.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Swimming upstream
It's good to be back. I have been out of town for a week at a conference, and took a short hiatus from my goal. Needed to recharge the batteries.
Today, the OT reading hit on something I often think about. On his way to see Balak, Balaam is riding his donkey through a narrow place in the road between two vineyards. (Numbers 22:21-34). An angel of the Lord is blocking the donkey's way, and the donkey shies away from crossing the area three separate times. On each of those occasions, Balaam, who cannot see the angel, beats the donkey. Finally, the donkey speaks to him and asks Balaam what he did to cause Balaam to beat him three times. Finally, Balaam's eyes are opened, and he sees the angel, and realizes his error. And not only that, but the angel reveals that if the donkey had not shied away, the angel would have killed Balaam and spared the donkey.
So, lets' put ourselves on the side of the road and watch this drama unfold. Here is a man, struggling with a donkey, and the donkey refuses to budge. We have sympathy for the man, because he is on an important errand, and the recalcitrant donkey is acting up. How often have we been in similar situations, knowing we had to get somewhere, and impatient with the tools we are using to get us to that place. So, as we don't know the entire story (just as Balaam is ignorant), we have sympathy for Balaam.
But then the rest of the story is revealed. Three times the donkey saves Balaam. From Balaam's prior perspective, the donkey is harming his intent. But when all is revealed, and a new perspective is granted, we see that his donkey's behavior is actually helping.
Once, when I was a a boy, I was travelling down a road I had only travelled once before. It was a little old country road, and I was in a hurry. I remembered that there was a 90 degree hairpin turn in it, but I did not remember where. Anyway, I had to get to the end of the road to meet someone, so I was flying down the road about 70 mph in a 1965 Volvo. I was 16 or 17. The road was empty, it was about 7 am on a Saturday morning. Suddenly, out of nowhere, this little old couple turns on the road in front of me, and proceeds to drive about 35 miles per hour. I was frustrated, cursing, and upset that out of nowhere, having seen no other car for about 20 miles, suddenly the only other two people awake in that rural county happen to pull out in front of me. So, while I am immaturely carrying on, mad at the little old people in front of me, here comes that hairpin turn, two minutes after they pull out in front of me. After the hairpin turn, about a mile later, they turn off.
Why did that happen? If they had not been there, I would not be here today. There's no way I would have survived that turn in that car. But they were there for exactly as long as it took to save me from myself. For the rest of my life, I have looked at inconveniences from that perspective. Even if no other incident had God's hands on it again, the fact that this one did makes the rest of my life, and all its occurrences, part of that miracle. Successes and failures are all learning experiences, to be dedicated to a God that has us in His hands, all the time.
So here is Balaam, swimming upstream, fighting a war in which he does not know all the sides, thinking he is doing right, when in fact, God is saving him for His purposes. All our lives are like that at some moment. I believe, if we are blessed, a donkey will speak to us someday and help reveal our place in the Kingdom. It's part of the irrationality and the dominance of faith.
It's hard to read such a story and continue to hang my hat on my own rationality and legalism. I will fall, and some donkey will be there to remind me who I am.
Today, the OT reading hit on something I often think about. On his way to see Balak, Balaam is riding his donkey through a narrow place in the road between two vineyards. (Numbers 22:21-34). An angel of the Lord is blocking the donkey's way, and the donkey shies away from crossing the area three separate times. On each of those occasions, Balaam, who cannot see the angel, beats the donkey. Finally, the donkey speaks to him and asks Balaam what he did to cause Balaam to beat him three times. Finally, Balaam's eyes are opened, and he sees the angel, and realizes his error. And not only that, but the angel reveals that if the donkey had not shied away, the angel would have killed Balaam and spared the donkey.
So, lets' put ourselves on the side of the road and watch this drama unfold. Here is a man, struggling with a donkey, and the donkey refuses to budge. We have sympathy for the man, because he is on an important errand, and the recalcitrant donkey is acting up. How often have we been in similar situations, knowing we had to get somewhere, and impatient with the tools we are using to get us to that place. So, as we don't know the entire story (just as Balaam is ignorant), we have sympathy for Balaam.
But then the rest of the story is revealed. Three times the donkey saves Balaam. From Balaam's prior perspective, the donkey is harming his intent. But when all is revealed, and a new perspective is granted, we see that his donkey's behavior is actually helping.
Once, when I was a a boy, I was travelling down a road I had only travelled once before. It was a little old country road, and I was in a hurry. I remembered that there was a 90 degree hairpin turn in it, but I did not remember where. Anyway, I had to get to the end of the road to meet someone, so I was flying down the road about 70 mph in a 1965 Volvo. I was 16 or 17. The road was empty, it was about 7 am on a Saturday morning. Suddenly, out of nowhere, this little old couple turns on the road in front of me, and proceeds to drive about 35 miles per hour. I was frustrated, cursing, and upset that out of nowhere, having seen no other car for about 20 miles, suddenly the only other two people awake in that rural county happen to pull out in front of me. So, while I am immaturely carrying on, mad at the little old people in front of me, here comes that hairpin turn, two minutes after they pull out in front of me. After the hairpin turn, about a mile later, they turn off.
Why did that happen? If they had not been there, I would not be here today. There's no way I would have survived that turn in that car. But they were there for exactly as long as it took to save me from myself. For the rest of my life, I have looked at inconveniences from that perspective. Even if no other incident had God's hands on it again, the fact that this one did makes the rest of my life, and all its occurrences, part of that miracle. Successes and failures are all learning experiences, to be dedicated to a God that has us in His hands, all the time.
So here is Balaam, swimming upstream, fighting a war in which he does not know all the sides, thinking he is doing right, when in fact, God is saving him for His purposes. All our lives are like that at some moment. I believe, if we are blessed, a donkey will speak to us someday and help reveal our place in the Kingdom. It's part of the irrationality and the dominance of faith.
It's hard to read such a story and continue to hang my hat on my own rationality and legalism. I will fall, and some donkey will be there to remind me who I am.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Rules and Mercy
It's been an incredibly long and difficult week. I hate not having the time to write, but it has been one of those weeks. I know my life is out of balance when I cannot dedicate the time to this discipline, but there it is.
This morning, in the OT, I was going through more of God's rules for His people, and I came across a question. The people, knowing that it would be common for them to be ceremonially unclean, given the difficulties of life and the multiple ways that uncleanliness could occur, asked how they could celebrate Passover if they were unclean. God's answer was to state that they could celebrate it later, when they were clean. However, He also reminded them that if there were no excuse not to celebrate Passover, then the people who didn't celebrate it would be cut off from the community. Plus, He allowed foreigners to participate in the celebration. (Numbers 9:4-15)
It seems that so many of the commandments given so far are described in ways in which a person will be cut off from the community for not following them. At least, that is one interpretation. However, the information about celebrating Passover later was not given until asked. And when it was asked, it was asked by people who *wanted* to celebrate God's mercy to them. It seems like the subtext here is that God will answer those with a penitent heart, who truly worship Him, and want to abide in Him. Not all has been revealed, yet, and God stands ready to receive the questions of those aligned in His Kingdom.
To me, this means that maybe all is not already written. Can I, with penitence and desire, yet receive instruction from God, even if He has not already written it down? And if that is the case, how should the instruction be tested? It should be interpreted in light of the structure that already exists. Once the answer was given that Passover could be celebrated later, the admonition that followed immediately was that those who could celebrate, and refuse, were cut off. This was a consistency with the previous commandments. So, a new response must be tempered in light of the structure of God's revealed path. Only then can it make sense.
It seems to branch into the NT feel of things. We can seek God, and gain inspiration, but it has to be in God's chosen structure. This once again creates the yin/yang, push/pull, of new versus old, an energy which seems to feed faith as it grows.
I believe that when people approach God the way these Israelites did, with an honest desire to celebrate Him and live in His life, He answers. The times that I have felt like I have heard Him clearest were these times in my life. I wish these times were not so few and far between.
This morning, in the OT, I was going through more of God's rules for His people, and I came across a question. The people, knowing that it would be common for them to be ceremonially unclean, given the difficulties of life and the multiple ways that uncleanliness could occur, asked how they could celebrate Passover if they were unclean. God's answer was to state that they could celebrate it later, when they were clean. However, He also reminded them that if there were no excuse not to celebrate Passover, then the people who didn't celebrate it would be cut off from the community. Plus, He allowed foreigners to participate in the celebration. (Numbers 9:4-15)
It seems that so many of the commandments given so far are described in ways in which a person will be cut off from the community for not following them. At least, that is one interpretation. However, the information about celebrating Passover later was not given until asked. And when it was asked, it was asked by people who *wanted* to celebrate God's mercy to them. It seems like the subtext here is that God will answer those with a penitent heart, who truly worship Him, and want to abide in Him. Not all has been revealed, yet, and God stands ready to receive the questions of those aligned in His Kingdom.
To me, this means that maybe all is not already written. Can I, with penitence and desire, yet receive instruction from God, even if He has not already written it down? And if that is the case, how should the instruction be tested? It should be interpreted in light of the structure that already exists. Once the answer was given that Passover could be celebrated later, the admonition that followed immediately was that those who could celebrate, and refuse, were cut off. This was a consistency with the previous commandments. So, a new response must be tempered in light of the structure of God's revealed path. Only then can it make sense.
It seems to branch into the NT feel of things. We can seek God, and gain inspiration, but it has to be in God's chosen structure. This once again creates the yin/yang, push/pull, of new versus old, an energy which seems to feed faith as it grows.
I believe that when people approach God the way these Israelites did, with an honest desire to celebrate Him and live in His life, He answers. The times that I have felt like I have heard Him clearest were these times in my life. I wish these times were not so few and far between.
Monday, March 1, 2010
This land is My land...
As I go through Leviticus and see the list of rules and proscriptions handed down to make the Israelites a moral, loving, controlled people, it's interesting to see all of the commands. The section today discussed ownership and the presence of the year of Jubilee, or the 50th year of each cycle. I am not sure if the year of Jubilee was ever officially celebrated, or if all the actions of the year of Jubilee were ever performed, but there was one command that stood out today.
"And remember, the land must never be sold on a permanent basis because it really belongs to me. You are only foreigners and tenants living with me." Lev 25:23
In all of the Lord's rules made to set the Israelites aside, or to make them different, He also gave them this rule to equate them with their neighbors. So, while the Israelites are expected to behave morally, with control, and with love toward their neighbors, they are also expected to remember that they, too, are foreigners. Guests in this world. The yin/yang of spirituality comes into play here also. They are different, but the same...
We are all guests in this world. The concept of ownership is pretty fresh in my mind. I "purchased" a house that was far to big for me. And it was far too expensive for me. I have been living in it for two years, and barely scraping out payments as I fight to control my debt. I have come to the conclusion that the house is the bank's. At this point, even if I pay it off, I will never feel like I "own" it. I have felt like a poser, a renter, in a house for too long for it ever to feel like my own. My car, even though it is paid for, is simply an asset that could be tied to a foreclosure process, and so I have lost "ownership" of that as well. We don't really "own" anything, but all our lives we struggle for the illusory concept of "ownership" as though owning something will give us some semblance of control. With control of a thing comes pride of mastery, and with pride comes selfishness and the death of one's spirituality. The fall is inevitable.
By reminding the Israelites that there is no such thing as ownership, God reminds them (and us) of our actual temporal status, and the joy of life that we have been granted, so far. By not owning something we are using every day (life), we recognize that this thing, life, in our hands, is a wonderful gift, something not to be squandered, but to be cherished and adored, and for which we are thankful. The first step toward pride (the concept of ownership) was removed in this section, keeping us ever penitent and thankful for that which we do have, today. We don't own anything. We don't have a right to expect "tomorrow" but when it comes, we can be thankful. We are foreigners living among God, in His land.
It would be such an amazing world if this were a central feature of the Bible. If the concept of a lack of "ownership" of anything were taken to heart by everyone in the world, what a world that would make.
What would you do if you knew you owned absolutely nothing? How would you feel? If you accept that God's words apply to you, take a second and apply these words. Then look around you and do what's next.
"And remember, the land must never be sold on a permanent basis because it really belongs to me. You are only foreigners and tenants living with me." Lev 25:23
In all of the Lord's rules made to set the Israelites aside, or to make them different, He also gave them this rule to equate them with their neighbors. So, while the Israelites are expected to behave morally, with control, and with love toward their neighbors, they are also expected to remember that they, too, are foreigners. Guests in this world. The yin/yang of spirituality comes into play here also. They are different, but the same...
We are all guests in this world. The concept of ownership is pretty fresh in my mind. I "purchased" a house that was far to big for me. And it was far too expensive for me. I have been living in it for two years, and barely scraping out payments as I fight to control my debt. I have come to the conclusion that the house is the bank's. At this point, even if I pay it off, I will never feel like I "own" it. I have felt like a poser, a renter, in a house for too long for it ever to feel like my own. My car, even though it is paid for, is simply an asset that could be tied to a foreclosure process, and so I have lost "ownership" of that as well. We don't really "own" anything, but all our lives we struggle for the illusory concept of "ownership" as though owning something will give us some semblance of control. With control of a thing comes pride of mastery, and with pride comes selfishness and the death of one's spirituality. The fall is inevitable.
By reminding the Israelites that there is no such thing as ownership, God reminds them (and us) of our actual temporal status, and the joy of life that we have been granted, so far. By not owning something we are using every day (life), we recognize that this thing, life, in our hands, is a wonderful gift, something not to be squandered, but to be cherished and adored, and for which we are thankful. The first step toward pride (the concept of ownership) was removed in this section, keeping us ever penitent and thankful for that which we do have, today. We don't own anything. We don't have a right to expect "tomorrow" but when it comes, we can be thankful. We are foreigners living among God, in His land.
It would be such an amazing world if this were a central feature of the Bible. If the concept of a lack of "ownership" of anything were taken to heart by everyone in the world, what a world that would make.
What would you do if you knew you owned absolutely nothing? How would you feel? If you accept that God's words apply to you, take a second and apply these words. Then look around you and do what's next.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Help me not to doubt
It's been a hard couple of days. I am working this weekend and was inundated with duties and responsibilities yesterday, and could not write about what I wanted to write about yesterday. After reading today's sections, I decided to go back and write about yesterday's. Most of the topics raised in today's reading, I have discussed with the reading of Matthew.
In yesterday's reading, Mark 9:17-24, there is a man who asks Jesus to remove a stubborn demon from his child. He asked, if it is possible, please do it. Jesus' response was that anything is possible if a person believes. The father then replied to Jesus, "I do believe, but help me not to doubt."
I think it is this struggle which tends to paralyze me. I try to continually renew my faith in Jesus, God, and the entire Christian discipline, but I suffer doubts, which lead me astray. In the assessment of deconstructionist thought to the Bible, I wonder how much of it is not divinely inspired, if any, and if so, how much of its relevancy can be re-interpreted based on cultural evolution. And depending on the degree of re-interpretation, how far away from the original, divinely inspired intent, are we progressing? Does Christian doctrine lose relevancy if the cultural norms to which verbiage was applied at the time no longer exist? Is epilepsy still a "demon" or is epilepsy now "epilepsy" and we have lost power over it?
When the intellectual pursuits of life crowd in, doubts crowd in. It's not that I don't believe. I do believe. But I find that I must seek to renew my faith, even in the setting of not losing my belief. Its the process of doubt that causes my faith to lose vibrancy. And so, I often ask God the same thing. I believe, but help me not to doubt. Help my faith to grow.
I have no deconstructionist or legalist viewpoint on this section. This section spoke to me personally, in the setting of the interplay between belief and doubt, and asking God for help with doubt. It's a position I find myself in most minutes of the day, constantly asking for help not to doubt.
In yesterday's reading, Mark 9:17-24, there is a man who asks Jesus to remove a stubborn demon from his child. He asked, if it is possible, please do it. Jesus' response was that anything is possible if a person believes. The father then replied to Jesus, "I do believe, but help me not to doubt."
I think it is this struggle which tends to paralyze me. I try to continually renew my faith in Jesus, God, and the entire Christian discipline, but I suffer doubts, which lead me astray. In the assessment of deconstructionist thought to the Bible, I wonder how much of it is not divinely inspired, if any, and if so, how much of its relevancy can be re-interpreted based on cultural evolution. And depending on the degree of re-interpretation, how far away from the original, divinely inspired intent, are we progressing? Does Christian doctrine lose relevancy if the cultural norms to which verbiage was applied at the time no longer exist? Is epilepsy still a "demon" or is epilepsy now "epilepsy" and we have lost power over it?
When the intellectual pursuits of life crowd in, doubts crowd in. It's not that I don't believe. I do believe. But I find that I must seek to renew my faith, even in the setting of not losing my belief. Its the process of doubt that causes my faith to lose vibrancy. And so, I often ask God the same thing. I believe, but help me not to doubt. Help my faith to grow.
I have no deconstructionist or legalist viewpoint on this section. This section spoke to me personally, in the setting of the interplay between belief and doubt, and asking God for help with doubt. It's a position I find myself in most minutes of the day, constantly asking for help not to doubt.
Friday, February 26, 2010
Anything Goes
It's been a hard couple of days of Leviticus reading. The last two days have been filled with several proscriptions against having sex with animals, sisters, aunts, same sex partners, and the list goes on and on. But in the midst of all these rules, there is a reason given. The land that the chosen people were entering was filled with people who did practice these patterns of behavior.
Over and over again, God tells the Israelites to set themselves apart from others. He gives rules of moral living and tells His people to follow these rules as a method of discriminating themselves from the people who were currently occupying the land into which they were entering. By hearing that these were the practices of those occupants, we see that the Israelites were entering a promiscuous, permissive society in which anything goes. The list of proscriptions, some of which seem quite "commonsensical" and so why list them, was put in place as a reaction against the practices of the people in the land, as a way of separating the behavior of the Israelites from the behavior of the others. As yeast is used in the bible to represent the small amount of evil that can permeate an entire culture, so these rules were designed to keep even the smallest amount of evil away from the Israelites culture, so that the culture could flourish as it was designed to do.
And although its effect was to enforce the separation, the list also had elements of morality and social structure to it. Don't defile family members. Honor the aged (Lev 19:32). Don't sacrifice your children. Honor God. Have rules. Don't show permissiveness. In short, behave, people! In this manner, the Israelites structured society would serve as a beacon of light and truth amidst a dark and permissive chaotic environment. And even though these lists of rules were given both to act as a moral guide and a culture separator, one rule was given that resonates throughout the OT and NT. In Leviticus 19:34, we hear that we are supposed to love the foreigners in our land as we love ourselves. So, all the legalistic people who prooftext specified sections of Leviticus to express some personal viewpoint must realize that in order to utilize any of the sections as "truth," one must accept the truth of every section, or else one's prooftexting has no fundamental ground upon which to stand. The emphasis on loving each other, even those who are foreigners in your land, is as valid as any and all sections of Leviticus.
So, the Israelites are given an amazing task. They are to live a "moral" life, separated from the cultures of those around them who are practicing "wickedness" and "abominations," yet at the same time are supposed to love those people as they love themselves. This is one of those amazing yin/yang conflicts of human behavior that are presented over and over in the bible, creating a push-pull of emotional and spiritual conflict within oneself that causes one to grow in understanding of the spirit and nature of God. We practice abominations in God's eyes all the time, yet He loves us. By participating in the practice of loving those who commit abominations, in the same manner in which we love ourselves, we gain insight into the nature of God's character.
A few hundred years later, Jesus sees the inversion of this practice. A religious group has come into power that has taken the yeast of wickedness into itself and clothed it in religious principle. By ultimate adherence to the laws, pride and vanity is born, crowding out the love that God intended in Leviticus. Jesus's warnings to the disciples in Mark 8:14 was to avoid this yeast. Even a little pride, self-satisfaction, legalism without love, will destroy the Temple meant to honor a God who specifically instructed us to love others as we love ourselves.
So, as I read these graphic rules set forth in Leviticus, I think of the culture of a people who is breaking all of these rules. I think of its sadness, chaos, hopelessness, lack of purpose. And then I think of the light surrounding a group of people, moving in, who "behave" and also love those around them as they love themselves, mimicking the true nature of God. Light was brought into a dark, sad world through the Israelites, and through Jesus' descriptions of the Pharisees, we see how easy it is for us to snuff out that light through legalism and pride. But the main thing that connects the Israelites, the culture Jesus espoused at His time, and who we strive to be today, is love. To me, that seems to be the link between the OT and NT readings today.
Over and over again, God tells the Israelites to set themselves apart from others. He gives rules of moral living and tells His people to follow these rules as a method of discriminating themselves from the people who were currently occupying the land into which they were entering. By hearing that these were the practices of those occupants, we see that the Israelites were entering a promiscuous, permissive society in which anything goes. The list of proscriptions, some of which seem quite "commonsensical" and so why list them, was put in place as a reaction against the practices of the people in the land, as a way of separating the behavior of the Israelites from the behavior of the others. As yeast is used in the bible to represent the small amount of evil that can permeate an entire culture, so these rules were designed to keep even the smallest amount of evil away from the Israelites culture, so that the culture could flourish as it was designed to do.
And although its effect was to enforce the separation, the list also had elements of morality and social structure to it. Don't defile family members. Honor the aged (Lev 19:32). Don't sacrifice your children. Honor God. Have rules. Don't show permissiveness. In short, behave, people! In this manner, the Israelites structured society would serve as a beacon of light and truth amidst a dark and permissive chaotic environment. And even though these lists of rules were given both to act as a moral guide and a culture separator, one rule was given that resonates throughout the OT and NT. In Leviticus 19:34, we hear that we are supposed to love the foreigners in our land as we love ourselves. So, all the legalistic people who prooftext specified sections of Leviticus to express some personal viewpoint must realize that in order to utilize any of the sections as "truth," one must accept the truth of every section, or else one's prooftexting has no fundamental ground upon which to stand. The emphasis on loving each other, even those who are foreigners in your land, is as valid as any and all sections of Leviticus.
So, the Israelites are given an amazing task. They are to live a "moral" life, separated from the cultures of those around them who are practicing "wickedness" and "abominations," yet at the same time are supposed to love those people as they love themselves. This is one of those amazing yin/yang conflicts of human behavior that are presented over and over in the bible, creating a push-pull of emotional and spiritual conflict within oneself that causes one to grow in understanding of the spirit and nature of God. We practice abominations in God's eyes all the time, yet He loves us. By participating in the practice of loving those who commit abominations, in the same manner in which we love ourselves, we gain insight into the nature of God's character.
A few hundred years later, Jesus sees the inversion of this practice. A religious group has come into power that has taken the yeast of wickedness into itself and clothed it in religious principle. By ultimate adherence to the laws, pride and vanity is born, crowding out the love that God intended in Leviticus. Jesus's warnings to the disciples in Mark 8:14 was to avoid this yeast. Even a little pride, self-satisfaction, legalism without love, will destroy the Temple meant to honor a God who specifically instructed us to love others as we love ourselves.
So, as I read these graphic rules set forth in Leviticus, I think of the culture of a people who is breaking all of these rules. I think of its sadness, chaos, hopelessness, lack of purpose. And then I think of the light surrounding a group of people, moving in, who "behave" and also love those around them as they love themselves, mimicking the true nature of God. Light was brought into a dark, sad world through the Israelites, and through Jesus' descriptions of the Pharisees, we see how easy it is for us to snuff out that light through legalism and pride. But the main thing that connects the Israelites, the culture Jesus espoused at His time, and who we strive to be today, is love. To me, that seems to be the link between the OT and NT readings today.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Opposite Sides
Today's readings were most striking in their opposing viewpoints. On one hand, the OT readings in Leviticus were mainly about how to treat one's body relative to sex, sexually transmitted disease, or menstruation. We also learned about Aaron's requirements prior to visiting the Most Holy Place. In short, it was a significant list of rules concerning appropriateness of behavior. But, at the end, it was rules.
Jesus' NT command, in Mark 7:14-23, was a reminder that evil is inside the heart, and evil is not related to what we eat, but how we speak and act. In short, reliance on rules does not cleanse one's heart. I have touched on the way this speaks to legalism in earlier posts, but it is interesting to see these somewhat opposing viewpoints presented together.
On one hand, we see extreme legalism, and on the other, a rejection of legalism. However, both are related to the same things, an appropriate attitude for faith, and the place God takes in our lives. In one manner, by following a litany of instructions, we are continuously reminded of God's proper place in our lives and worship. On the other hand, we are reminded of the pitfalls of relying on rule sets as a way of ignoring God's *true* place in our hearts. Both paths have their shortcomings.
We can follow rules and forget what the rules represent, becoming twisted and harsh in our own legalistic purity. In this manner, we forget how we are sinners also, in need of grace. Or, we can adopt a lackadaisical attitude toward worship, disregarding accountability and purity of belief in God if we stray to far in the opposite direction. Jesus point is the distillation of the intent of OT law, to keep God at the front and center of our faith, so that we avoid a thought-life which might defile us.
So while the OT and NT seem so far apart in application, to me they seem incredibly closely related in intent. How do we keep God at the center of our hearts, so that evil thoughts, sexual immorality, theft, murder, adultery, greed, wickedness, deceit, eagerness for lustful pleasure, envy, slander, pride, and foolishness are kept at bay in our lives? While keeping ourselves busy with a laundry list of rules may provide a path, it is not the final path, because it does not guarantee faithfulness of heart to the mercy of God.
I let the world in and denied a part of my faith today. It was because of one of those thoughts crowded out my faith, for a moment. But a moment was all it took, and after the moment was over, it was gone, and I lost a chance I had. Regret is a hard thing to face, and this admonition from Christ is a good one for me to keep in mind. The shape of my denial may sound legalistic, but in reality, it was not. Its just hard to see how quickly things can displace faith, and very important to reflect on these words, for me. It is the thought life that defiles you.
Jesus' NT command, in Mark 7:14-23, was a reminder that evil is inside the heart, and evil is not related to what we eat, but how we speak and act. In short, reliance on rules does not cleanse one's heart. I have touched on the way this speaks to legalism in earlier posts, but it is interesting to see these somewhat opposing viewpoints presented together.
On one hand, we see extreme legalism, and on the other, a rejection of legalism. However, both are related to the same things, an appropriate attitude for faith, and the place God takes in our lives. In one manner, by following a litany of instructions, we are continuously reminded of God's proper place in our lives and worship. On the other hand, we are reminded of the pitfalls of relying on rule sets as a way of ignoring God's *true* place in our hearts. Both paths have their shortcomings.
We can follow rules and forget what the rules represent, becoming twisted and harsh in our own legalistic purity. In this manner, we forget how we are sinners also, in need of grace. Or, we can adopt a lackadaisical attitude toward worship, disregarding accountability and purity of belief in God if we stray to far in the opposite direction. Jesus point is the distillation of the intent of OT law, to keep God at the front and center of our faith, so that we avoid a thought-life which might defile us.
So while the OT and NT seem so far apart in application, to me they seem incredibly closely related in intent. How do we keep God at the center of our hearts, so that evil thoughts, sexual immorality, theft, murder, adultery, greed, wickedness, deceit, eagerness for lustful pleasure, envy, slander, pride, and foolishness are kept at bay in our lives? While keeping ourselves busy with a laundry list of rules may provide a path, it is not the final path, because it does not guarantee faithfulness of heart to the mercy of God.
I let the world in and denied a part of my faith today. It was because of one of those thoughts crowded out my faith, for a moment. But a moment was all it took, and after the moment was over, it was gone, and I lost a chance I had. Regret is a hard thing to face, and this admonition from Christ is a good one for me to keep in mind. The shape of my denial may sound legalistic, but in reality, it was not. Its just hard to see how quickly things can displace faith, and very important to reflect on these words, for me. It is the thought life that defiles you.
Monday, February 22, 2010
My only hope is in you...
Lots of good stuff today.
The Proverb, 10:10, seems to hit upon a fundamental difference between the life of the OT and the NT. "People who wink at wrong cause trouble, but a bold reproof promotes peace." The Judaic emphasis on justice runs counter to the "turn the other cheek" philosophy in Christianity. It was, and is, a sin not to pursue justice, because "winking" at wrong, or being ineffectual at pursuing justice, or being too lazy to pursue justice, "causes trouble." The point is that a lack of pursuit of justice is sinful, just like the unjust person. Because not pursuing justice creates further injustice.
This is where everything gets sticky, especially in deconstructionist vs legalist terms. Whose justice are we seeking? Are we seeking a "rational" justice? I would imagine we are always seeking rational justice. But whose definitions are we using? If we are using definitions from the standpoint of the impoverished Islamist, then his concept of justice may be distinctly different from my concept. His justice may extend to putting a bomb on a family member in order to destroy what he feels to be an "unjust" social order, where his religion is dominated by another's. Or, in a milder form, cultural dishonesty, ingrained lying, may be a tool that is "justified" in his arsenal to bring about social justice for his religion. At this point, religion fails and becomes simple "ethics" or the definition of justice established by the ruling class. It no longer reflects a pursuit of an external moral order defined by God before time, as a way we can all understand God's nature. It is simply a fabrication of mankind's "rationality." With too much emphasis on rationality, justice is defined by one class vs another, and it is not the representation of the fundamental moral order of the universe.
How do we avoid this trap? How do we avoid denigrating "religion" and turning it into nothing more than "ethics" that are a rulebook, for culture vs culture? Do we establish a new covenant, because the abuses of the pursuit of justice, the perversion of religion into ethics via rationality, has fundamentally undermined our understanding of the nature of God through the religion with which He blessed us? I think that this is the message behind all church reformers. Christ, Luther, Rev. King... Our rationality, wonderful as it is, destroys religion and turns it into ethics. And soon we end up with a blind and toothless universe.
How do we stop it? I think David has a wonderful message to keep us on track.
I said to myself, "I will watch what I do
And not sin in what I say.
I will curm my tongue when the ungodly are around me."
...
We are merely moving shadows,
and all our busy rushing ends in nothing
...
And so, Lord, where do I put my hope?
My only hope is in you.
Rescue me from my rebellion,
For even fools mock me when I rebel.
I am silent before you; I won't say a word.
...
Psalm 39:1-8
"My only hope is in you." Regardless of our questions, regardless of our concerns, our struggles, our failures, our only hope is in God. We can talk about social justice vs ethics vs morality all day, but at the end of the day, before we lay our heads down, no matter who is with us, we are still alone with God. Because rationality always fails us, we must keep our eyes and hearts attuned to His presence in our lives, and always be listening for Him. Staying silent, and being aware of Him, and our need for Him, continuously. Again, it all comes back to faith.
The Proverb, 10:10, seems to hit upon a fundamental difference between the life of the OT and the NT. "People who wink at wrong cause trouble, but a bold reproof promotes peace." The Judaic emphasis on justice runs counter to the "turn the other cheek" philosophy in Christianity. It was, and is, a sin not to pursue justice, because "winking" at wrong, or being ineffectual at pursuing justice, or being too lazy to pursue justice, "causes trouble." The point is that a lack of pursuit of justice is sinful, just like the unjust person. Because not pursuing justice creates further injustice.
This is where everything gets sticky, especially in deconstructionist vs legalist terms. Whose justice are we seeking? Are we seeking a "rational" justice? I would imagine we are always seeking rational justice. But whose definitions are we using? If we are using definitions from the standpoint of the impoverished Islamist, then his concept of justice may be distinctly different from my concept. His justice may extend to putting a bomb on a family member in order to destroy what he feels to be an "unjust" social order, where his religion is dominated by another's. Or, in a milder form, cultural dishonesty, ingrained lying, may be a tool that is "justified" in his arsenal to bring about social justice for his religion. At this point, religion fails and becomes simple "ethics" or the definition of justice established by the ruling class. It no longer reflects a pursuit of an external moral order defined by God before time, as a way we can all understand God's nature. It is simply a fabrication of mankind's "rationality." With too much emphasis on rationality, justice is defined by one class vs another, and it is not the representation of the fundamental moral order of the universe.
How do we avoid this trap? How do we avoid denigrating "religion" and turning it into nothing more than "ethics" that are a rulebook, for culture vs culture? Do we establish a new covenant, because the abuses of the pursuit of justice, the perversion of religion into ethics via rationality, has fundamentally undermined our understanding of the nature of God through the religion with which He blessed us? I think that this is the message behind all church reformers. Christ, Luther, Rev. King... Our rationality, wonderful as it is, destroys religion and turns it into ethics. And soon we end up with a blind and toothless universe.
How do we stop it? I think David has a wonderful message to keep us on track.
I said to myself, "I will watch what I do
And not sin in what I say.
I will curm my tongue when the ungodly are around me."
...
We are merely moving shadows,
and all our busy rushing ends in nothing
...
And so, Lord, where do I put my hope?
My only hope is in you.
Rescue me from my rebellion,
For even fools mock me when I rebel.
I am silent before you; I won't say a word.
...
Psalm 39:1-8
"My only hope is in you." Regardless of our questions, regardless of our concerns, our struggles, our failures, our only hope is in God. We can talk about social justice vs ethics vs morality all day, but at the end of the day, before we lay our heads down, no matter who is with us, we are still alone with God. Because rationality always fails us, we must keep our eyes and hearts attuned to His presence in our lives, and always be listening for Him. Staying silent, and being aware of Him, and our need for Him, continuously. Again, it all comes back to faith.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Wine prior to the Tabernacle
Today's readings had some interesting sections. The NT section about Legion being cast out into the herd of 2,000 pigs (Mark 5:1-20), I have already written about. It is still interesting to see the town's reaction, though. Even though a man was in pain, and even though demons were in their midst, the town's established culture was threatened by the coming of Jesus.
It seems that often we get ensconced in our own histories, and just accept things for the way they are. And then, along comes what is perceived as an act of violence, in this case the destruction of a herd of pigs, and the arrival of sanity and Christ Himself. But the inversion of our carefully constructed lives creates such psychological pain, that if we allow the mob mentality to rule the day, and don't allow ourselves time to think and reflect on an event, we can do something as foolish as asking Christ to leave our lives, if this "loss of past" is too threatening to us. Throughout Christian history, this town will be known as the town that kicked out Christ. What a legacy. All for the cost of a herd of pigs. How many times will that happen in our lives? When will we be presented with an event that shakes our world, and then refuse to consider the downstream good consequences of it, using instead the fear and uncertainty that the event creates as a reason to reject God? Our addiction to our lives, the predictability we feel inside our bubble, creates a loss of discernment and judgment of any event that threatens the status quo.
It seems there was a section of the OT reading (Leviticus 10:8-11) that also dealt with judgment, discernment, and possible addiction. The influence of alcohol on judgment is something that anyone with experience with drinking understands. But from the outside point of view (the non-drinker observing the intoxicated person), it is easy to see the effects of alcohol on empathy. The intoxicated person is pretty ego-syntonic. They lose the ability to discern their own behavior, or to be able to really empathize with the pain and suffering of others. Ask the family member of any addict. God's proscription against alcohol prior to worship is pretty clear in this section.
The leaders (descendants of Aaron) must never lose their ability to judge, discern, or empathize while in relationship with God. Empathy for God's people naturally yields sympathy, leading to mercy. Jesus quote's God's demands for mercy over and over in Matthew, by Jesus' continued references to Hosea 6:6. Any drunk can perform a memorized action, but a drunk cannot empathize effectively, and therefore contribute to mercy. And if the Tabernacle represents a lone safe place of judgment, of trying to understand the fundamental moral order of the universe handed down by God, then how can an intoxicated person, ego-syntonic and non-empathetic, hope to achieve a higher understanding of judgment? And how can faith in that system not be shattered for the petitioners seeking wisdom, and seeing it so perverted by drunken leaders.
Even though alcohol has definite physiologic effects that decrease one's ability to discern and judge, addiction to worldly "predictability" can have similar psychological effects on these same abilities. A town kicks out Christ because they were satisfied with the way things were. Do we, even sober, carry in us this same addiction to life that blinds us to revelatory moments, just because they seem frightening or uncomfortable to our chosen paths? The townspeople, before the arrival of Christ would probably have said, sure, we worship Christ, let Him come. But coming in His own time, in His own manner, caused fear, which then was used by the mob for a complete rejection of what they otherwise may have worshipped.
But the point is, we don't get to choose how Christ comes to us. We have to be ready. We have to have our blinders off, and we have to be prepared to let go our preconceptions. The only way I know to do that is a constant practice of faith, used to assess and discern every event in one's life. By keeping God, Christ, and spiritual understanding in constant awareness, we can overcome the fear, and hopefully not reject Him when He shows Himself in a way not of our choosing.
It seems that often we get ensconced in our own histories, and just accept things for the way they are. And then, along comes what is perceived as an act of violence, in this case the destruction of a herd of pigs, and the arrival of sanity and Christ Himself. But the inversion of our carefully constructed lives creates such psychological pain, that if we allow the mob mentality to rule the day, and don't allow ourselves time to think and reflect on an event, we can do something as foolish as asking Christ to leave our lives, if this "loss of past" is too threatening to us. Throughout Christian history, this town will be known as the town that kicked out Christ. What a legacy. All for the cost of a herd of pigs. How many times will that happen in our lives? When will we be presented with an event that shakes our world, and then refuse to consider the downstream good consequences of it, using instead the fear and uncertainty that the event creates as a reason to reject God? Our addiction to our lives, the predictability we feel inside our bubble, creates a loss of discernment and judgment of any event that threatens the status quo.
It seems there was a section of the OT reading (Leviticus 10:8-11) that also dealt with judgment, discernment, and possible addiction. The influence of alcohol on judgment is something that anyone with experience with drinking understands. But from the outside point of view (the non-drinker observing the intoxicated person), it is easy to see the effects of alcohol on empathy. The intoxicated person is pretty ego-syntonic. They lose the ability to discern their own behavior, or to be able to really empathize with the pain and suffering of others. Ask the family member of any addict. God's proscription against alcohol prior to worship is pretty clear in this section.
The leaders (descendants of Aaron) must never lose their ability to judge, discern, or empathize while in relationship with God. Empathy for God's people naturally yields sympathy, leading to mercy. Jesus quote's God's demands for mercy over and over in Matthew, by Jesus' continued references to Hosea 6:6. Any drunk can perform a memorized action, but a drunk cannot empathize effectively, and therefore contribute to mercy. And if the Tabernacle represents a lone safe place of judgment, of trying to understand the fundamental moral order of the universe handed down by God, then how can an intoxicated person, ego-syntonic and non-empathetic, hope to achieve a higher understanding of judgment? And how can faith in that system not be shattered for the petitioners seeking wisdom, and seeing it so perverted by drunken leaders.
Even though alcohol has definite physiologic effects that decrease one's ability to discern and judge, addiction to worldly "predictability" can have similar psychological effects on these same abilities. A town kicks out Christ because they were satisfied with the way things were. Do we, even sober, carry in us this same addiction to life that blinds us to revelatory moments, just because they seem frightening or uncomfortable to our chosen paths? The townspeople, before the arrival of Christ would probably have said, sure, we worship Christ, let Him come. But coming in His own time, in His own manner, caused fear, which then was used by the mob for a complete rejection of what they otherwise may have worshipped.
But the point is, we don't get to choose how Christ comes to us. We have to be ready. We have to have our blinders off, and we have to be prepared to let go our preconceptions. The only way I know to do that is a constant practice of faith, used to assess and discern every event in one's life. By keeping God, Christ, and spiritual understanding in constant awareness, we can overcome the fear, and hopefully not reject Him when He shows Himself in a way not of our choosing.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
The Leviticus Procession
I was never raised on a farm. In today's economy, not many of us are. Most of us are city-folk, and were never raised with goats. But in my past, I have dated women who were raised on a farm, and gotten to know their families.
For them, life was different. There was a built in cycle of life, of birthing, of reproduction, and of death. The constant reminder of this life, which us city people are not as privileged to be reminded of so continuously, has a tendency to remind them of the sacred nature of life. Their own lives, but also of the lives of the livestock for which they care.
So, I always read Leviticus as a bunch of animal sacrifice instructions. But, putting myself in the mindset of a person who raises livestock, I can see things a little differently. Making a sin offering by spilling the blood of one of your prized animals does a couple of things. It reminds you that sin and death are closely related. And it reminds you of the ever present nature of the divine as the life is spilling out in front of you. It's not a simply a savage act by cruel people. It's a heartbreaking act by people giving their most prized possessions to God. And not only is it heartbreaking, it is costly. Leviticus reminds us that if we cannot afford a goat, we bring as much as we can afford, even if it is just flour.
All these reminders are designed to keep our heads and our hearts focused on God, sin, life, and death. The act of taking a goat, almost a semi-pet by the time it is delivered, and cutting open its neck as an atonement for sin, or an offering of worship, is designed to keep us focused on the interplay of God in our daily lives. The sacrifice is not a ritual, it is a reminder of God's presence in our very short lives, and it is designed to keep our heads and our hearts focused on God.
Proceed forward a few hundred years...
I can't bring a goat all the way to Jerusalem with me, I will buy one there at the market outside the Temple. I can always get money from the money changers who have their booths in the Temple.
It's a festival. Clowns, street vendors, open air markets, animals of all kinds, and inside the Temple, the bankers... Why, there's even a butcher around so I don't have to kill the goat. All I have to do is bring a little money, give it up, and that is my sin offering. Or is it my burnt offering? Oh, I don't know, does it matter?
How different! How has something somber that was designed to bring us into the presence of God, the Holy process of spilling blood we have cared for and nurtured for months or years, to remind us that ALL is His, how has this changed into an emotionless ritual surrounded by revelry and detachment? We lost it! Somewhere along the way, God's intent was lost in the ritual. And not only lost, but capitalized on by the money changers. What started as Holiness has turned into commerce.
We are human. It's what we do. It is hard for the generations to hang onto the meaning of an event, the meaning that is our faith moment. It is easier for us to cling to the ceremony, even if the meaning is lost, as I perceive happened here. So, we need to depend on a constant renewal, and in the NT reading today, we see an example of the renewal. Jesus states:
"The Sabbath was made to benefit people, and not people to benefit the Sabbath."
God's laws were made to the betterment of people. Having us personally sacrifice an animal is designed to bring us closer to God. If you don't believe it, live on a farm for a while, and see how it feels to kill a livestock animal. See the rush of blood, and feel the grief, and see part of yourself in the act. It is an emotional, gut-wrenching experience, and our usual blinders in life are ripped off so we can experience life, and our spiritual place in it more clearly.
The laws are for our benefit, but when we start to service law, and forget God, we are only practicing ritual. Ritual is not our master. God is. Throwing money in a pot, knowing that somewhere down the line, an animal may or may not be sacrificed, is no longer the same thing as God intended for our spiritual benefit. Through Jesus' constant lessons of renewal, we can achieve a re-orientation of mind (even if our culture cannot revert to full goat herder status) to recall our place in God's Kingdom. God made the Sabbath for us, not the other way around. Human idolatry flips the picture by putting ceremony above faith.
The procession of humanity from Leviticus to Jesus' day is still happening now. How often do we take the best intentions of faith, and lose them in legalism? Only to worship the arguments, the sectarianism, and no longer, God...
For them, life was different. There was a built in cycle of life, of birthing, of reproduction, and of death. The constant reminder of this life, which us city people are not as privileged to be reminded of so continuously, has a tendency to remind them of the sacred nature of life. Their own lives, but also of the lives of the livestock for which they care.
So, I always read Leviticus as a bunch of animal sacrifice instructions. But, putting myself in the mindset of a person who raises livestock, I can see things a little differently. Making a sin offering by spilling the blood of one of your prized animals does a couple of things. It reminds you that sin and death are closely related. And it reminds you of the ever present nature of the divine as the life is spilling out in front of you. It's not a simply a savage act by cruel people. It's a heartbreaking act by people giving their most prized possessions to God. And not only is it heartbreaking, it is costly. Leviticus reminds us that if we cannot afford a goat, we bring as much as we can afford, even if it is just flour.
All these reminders are designed to keep our heads and our hearts focused on God, sin, life, and death. The act of taking a goat, almost a semi-pet by the time it is delivered, and cutting open its neck as an atonement for sin, or an offering of worship, is designed to keep us focused on the interplay of God in our daily lives. The sacrifice is not a ritual, it is a reminder of God's presence in our very short lives, and it is designed to keep our heads and our hearts focused on God.
Proceed forward a few hundred years...
I can't bring a goat all the way to Jerusalem with me, I will buy one there at the market outside the Temple. I can always get money from the money changers who have their booths in the Temple.
It's a festival. Clowns, street vendors, open air markets, animals of all kinds, and inside the Temple, the bankers... Why, there's even a butcher around so I don't have to kill the goat. All I have to do is bring a little money, give it up, and that is my sin offering. Or is it my burnt offering? Oh, I don't know, does it matter?
How different! How has something somber that was designed to bring us into the presence of God, the Holy process of spilling blood we have cared for and nurtured for months or years, to remind us that ALL is His, how has this changed into an emotionless ritual surrounded by revelry and detachment? We lost it! Somewhere along the way, God's intent was lost in the ritual. And not only lost, but capitalized on by the money changers. What started as Holiness has turned into commerce.
We are human. It's what we do. It is hard for the generations to hang onto the meaning of an event, the meaning that is our faith moment. It is easier for us to cling to the ceremony, even if the meaning is lost, as I perceive happened here. So, we need to depend on a constant renewal, and in the NT reading today, we see an example of the renewal. Jesus states:
"The Sabbath was made to benefit people, and not people to benefit the Sabbath."
God's laws were made to the betterment of people. Having us personally sacrifice an animal is designed to bring us closer to God. If you don't believe it, live on a farm for a while, and see how it feels to kill a livestock animal. See the rush of blood, and feel the grief, and see part of yourself in the act. It is an emotional, gut-wrenching experience, and our usual blinders in life are ripped off so we can experience life, and our spiritual place in it more clearly.
The laws are for our benefit, but when we start to service law, and forget God, we are only practicing ritual. Ritual is not our master. God is. Throwing money in a pot, knowing that somewhere down the line, an animal may or may not be sacrificed, is no longer the same thing as God intended for our spiritual benefit. Through Jesus' constant lessons of renewal, we can achieve a re-orientation of mind (even if our culture cannot revert to full goat herder status) to recall our place in God's Kingdom. God made the Sabbath for us, not the other way around. Human idolatry flips the picture by putting ceremony above faith.
The procession of humanity from Leviticus to Jesus' day is still happening now. How often do we take the best intentions of faith, and lose them in legalism? Only to worship the arguments, the sectarianism, and no longer, God...
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
She is ignorant and doesn't even know it.
Today's OT and NT readings are hard to comment upon. Leviticus is a difficult read, and much of Leviticus is beyond me. I can see prohibitions against greed and selfishness in much of the laws that were made, but the laws culturally have little application to today's culture, except that they demonstrate obeisance to God.
The NT reading is quite similar to that which I have already blogged about in Matthew. Rather than be repetitive, I was thinking of not blogging at all.
But, after the Psalms reading, I came across this quote about Folly:
"She is ignorant and doesn't even know it."
Much of my life has been spent in the company of such people. And quite honestly, much of my life, perhaps even today and my future, can be summed up in this statement. Having failed so many times in the past, I would never call myself a "success" today, because my future self may easily show my present self to be highly incorrect, just as my present self is chagrined by the behavior of my past selves. This entry may come across as highly elitist, but I have often found a correlation between intellect and morality, or at least, humility.
This is not to say that highly educated people are always moral. I have known some incredibly smart people who revel in sinful and arrogant behavior, as immoral as possible. And I have known people of moderate intellect and education who are the most moral beings I have ever met.
But I have also met a "type" of person who is completely satisfied with his or her own behavior, and desires nothing more than continuing that behavior, despite seeing all the damage and destruction it causes in their life or in the lives of those who care about them. This person practices behavior that is both self-absorbed and immoral. And when presented with evidence why this behavior is somehow "wrong" (by the hurts they have caused to themselves and others, by its self-destructiveness, or simply by its incredible selfishness), they summarily reject the evidence without giving it any consideration.
It is that lack of consideration that is key to their intellectual limitation. I heard one time that the ability to hold two diametrically opposed ideas in one's mind at the same time is a mark of intellect. Consideration of evidence requires careful contemplation. It requires a deconstruction of "self" so that the evidence can be weighed outside of one's own selfish point of view, or inside a civic framework that may be at odds with one's own personal desires. Rather than taking the time to consider the evidence, the evidence is simply rejected.
It has been my experience that the people who are quickest to reject evidence such as this are often those who lack the intellectual capacity to consider it. Abstract thinking is beyond them. Psychological deconstruction is beyond them. It's similar to telling a child that it is wrong to take a candy bar without paying for it, and trying to explain yourself to the child by using Aristotelian philosophical principles. The mind is simply not there to contemplate the immorality of their actions, and so the rejection is immediate.
Most of the rejection comes from attitude. When a person is intellectually incapable of assessing evidence, they tend to wrap themselves in "what they know," which is usually only inside themselves. They are trapped in their own perspectives. Through an arrogant attitude, they reject what they cannot, physically, understand, and they continue with their immoral, un-wise behavior. It is the intellectual challenge they face that locks them into continuation of their un-wise behavior.
This entire personality type is summed up in the above quote. While ignorance may be from a lack of exposure, and have little to do with "intellect," it is Folly's ignorance that is incapable of self-awareness due to a lack of intellectual capacity. Many of us, myself a prime culprit, struggle along in life for years with tools that keep us from missing the mark. We may be intellectually gifted, but our psychological construction keeps us failing in life, until, by the grace of God, He assists us in finding a more moral path. But many also are incapable of finding that path by an attitude of willful rejection, simply due to a lack of ability to consider it. Trying to discuss morality with these people points out my own intellectual limitations. I find that if I were smarter, I'd be more capable of making my point, but I usually end up frustrated, and creating a counter-productive environment.
While presenting evidence to a "mocker," along with moral boundaries, I am branded as "legalistic." And if I relax a moral stance around Folly to reach that level, I feel like I am complacent and permissive of a sin that destroys that person. For the last 3,000 years, this type has existed, and Solomon knew that Folly, "loud and brash," would not know herself, and would continue this self-destructive, un-wise behavior in the setting of her intellectual limitations (she doesn't even know it).
So, when I am confronted with someone who is hurtful, and relatively limited in their intellectual capacity to understand themselves and their own hurtful behavior, I remind myself that I am just like that person.
I *am* that person. I always have been. I always will be.
To God, we are all the same. I am not "better" than that person. Far from it. Any intellectual gifts I may have just add to my responsibility to "get it right." My gifts simply make my fall that much more sinful. So, I try to stay on my own path, and trust God that He will, in the end, help us all.
The NT reading is quite similar to that which I have already blogged about in Matthew. Rather than be repetitive, I was thinking of not blogging at all.
But, after the Psalms reading, I came across this quote about Folly:
"She is ignorant and doesn't even know it."
Much of my life has been spent in the company of such people. And quite honestly, much of my life, perhaps even today and my future, can be summed up in this statement. Having failed so many times in the past, I would never call myself a "success" today, because my future self may easily show my present self to be highly incorrect, just as my present self is chagrined by the behavior of my past selves. This entry may come across as highly elitist, but I have often found a correlation between intellect and morality, or at least, humility.
This is not to say that highly educated people are always moral. I have known some incredibly smart people who revel in sinful and arrogant behavior, as immoral as possible. And I have known people of moderate intellect and education who are the most moral beings I have ever met.
But I have also met a "type" of person who is completely satisfied with his or her own behavior, and desires nothing more than continuing that behavior, despite seeing all the damage and destruction it causes in their life or in the lives of those who care about them. This person practices behavior that is both self-absorbed and immoral. And when presented with evidence why this behavior is somehow "wrong" (by the hurts they have caused to themselves and others, by its self-destructiveness, or simply by its incredible selfishness), they summarily reject the evidence without giving it any consideration.
It is that lack of consideration that is key to their intellectual limitation. I heard one time that the ability to hold two diametrically opposed ideas in one's mind at the same time is a mark of intellect. Consideration of evidence requires careful contemplation. It requires a deconstruction of "self" so that the evidence can be weighed outside of one's own selfish point of view, or inside a civic framework that may be at odds with one's own personal desires. Rather than taking the time to consider the evidence, the evidence is simply rejected.
It has been my experience that the people who are quickest to reject evidence such as this are often those who lack the intellectual capacity to consider it. Abstract thinking is beyond them. Psychological deconstruction is beyond them. It's similar to telling a child that it is wrong to take a candy bar without paying for it, and trying to explain yourself to the child by using Aristotelian philosophical principles. The mind is simply not there to contemplate the immorality of their actions, and so the rejection is immediate.
Most of the rejection comes from attitude. When a person is intellectually incapable of assessing evidence, they tend to wrap themselves in "what they know," which is usually only inside themselves. They are trapped in their own perspectives. Through an arrogant attitude, they reject what they cannot, physically, understand, and they continue with their immoral, un-wise behavior. It is the intellectual challenge they face that locks them into continuation of their un-wise behavior.
This entire personality type is summed up in the above quote. While ignorance may be from a lack of exposure, and have little to do with "intellect," it is Folly's ignorance that is incapable of self-awareness due to a lack of intellectual capacity. Many of us, myself a prime culprit, struggle along in life for years with tools that keep us from missing the mark. We may be intellectually gifted, but our psychological construction keeps us failing in life, until, by the grace of God, He assists us in finding a more moral path. But many also are incapable of finding that path by an attitude of willful rejection, simply due to a lack of ability to consider it. Trying to discuss morality with these people points out my own intellectual limitations. I find that if I were smarter, I'd be more capable of making my point, but I usually end up frustrated, and creating a counter-productive environment.
While presenting evidence to a "mocker," along with moral boundaries, I am branded as "legalistic." And if I relax a moral stance around Folly to reach that level, I feel like I am complacent and permissive of a sin that destroys that person. For the last 3,000 years, this type has existed, and Solomon knew that Folly, "loud and brash," would not know herself, and would continue this self-destructive, un-wise behavior in the setting of her intellectual limitations (she doesn't even know it).
So, when I am confronted with someone who is hurtful, and relatively limited in their intellectual capacity to understand themselves and their own hurtful behavior, I remind myself that I am just like that person.
I *am* that person. I always have been. I always will be.
To God, we are all the same. I am not "better" than that person. Far from it. Any intellectual gifts I may have just add to my responsibility to "get it right." My gifts simply make my fall that much more sinful. So, I try to stay on my own path, and trust God that He will, in the end, help us all.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Fear of the Lord
Is the beginning of wisdom.
Even before I became religious at all, I had heard that quote. I had heard it in both positive and negative contexts. I had heard it from anti-religious people about the negative consequences of "fearing" a supposedly loving God. How this was the tool by which the proletariat was held in check by the ruling classes using religion to establish some sort of pre-ordained dominance. How this was an "anti-Deity" sentiment corrupted by religious totalitarians in order to exert influence over their congregation.
I had heard religious apologists use this argument to contradict the questioning mind. I had heard hellfire and brimstone preachers use these exact words, with spittle flying from their mouths as they went on a prooftexting rampage, trying to exact their will on weak-minded parishioners.
In all the ways I had heard it described, it was the "fear" word that created so many ridiculous interpretations. As people are temporal beings, they tend to put greatest emphasis on the first in any list, or even in a sentence. What if it had said, "Wisdom has its beginnings in the fear of the Lord"? Would people then have concentrated more on the term "wisdom" rather than "fear?"
For me personally, approaching this sentence with a description of wisdom first fills in what the remainder of the intent of the sentence is, in a much calmer and more humane explanation.
What is wisdom? So far, in all the Proverbs quotes, we have seen wisdom described as something that was in place before the heavens and the earth. We see wisdom as something that will promise good results to those who practice it. We have seen wisdom as the foil of Folly, the prostitute who will desecrate a man's future. In all the examples of wisdom, we see a constant "rightness," a way of making sense of the universe. Even, if you will, a moral order to the universe, that if you practice it, will align your life up with a good outcome, even if it means delaying gratification, eschewing the quick carnal fix, or just rejecting being lazy.
In any of these applications of wisdom, we see a commonality, and that is a setting aside of one's immediate "selfish" desires. "Self-ish" refers to the insistence on one's "self" as an arbiter of the choice of action. "Self" only exists as the final arbiter of choice if there is nothing other than "self" around. If one accepts one's creation, and therefore one's Creator, then one must, by that logic, recognize that there is something greater than "self" around. I did not create my self, someone else did. My Creator did. He has a say in my choices, not just my "self."
However one interprets the word "fear," (awe, reverence, fear, terror, respect, obeisance, submission, etc.) the end result is that there is an "other-ness" that is outside one's self, and GREATER THAN one's self. Since the practice of wisdom demands a recognitions of the pitfalls of following one's selfish demands, and suggests that a long-term better way to behave is a non-selfish way, recognition of any spiritual path which aligns oneself with this end result, the destruction of the "self" in "selfish," results in the practice of wisdom.
It has always seemed clear to me what the proverb is intending if one starts from the back of the sentence and works backward. Define wisdom, and how one's "selfish" interests usually result in un-wise behavior, devise a code of conduct that "destroys the self," and pretty soon, you have wisdom. This takes root in education, compassion, family orientation, and civic duty, because all of these tend to remove one's thoughts from oneself.
Starting with the word "fear" always lent itself to pretty foolish antipathies, in my opinion. In no way am I understating the need to fear God's commands, and to treat Him and His creation (us) with reverence, awe, and love, but trying to denote "fear" in the ways I have heard it, well, that simply never seemed all that wise to me.
Even before I became religious at all, I had heard that quote. I had heard it in both positive and negative contexts. I had heard it from anti-religious people about the negative consequences of "fearing" a supposedly loving God. How this was the tool by which the proletariat was held in check by the ruling classes using religion to establish some sort of pre-ordained dominance. How this was an "anti-Deity" sentiment corrupted by religious totalitarians in order to exert influence over their congregation.
I had heard religious apologists use this argument to contradict the questioning mind. I had heard hellfire and brimstone preachers use these exact words, with spittle flying from their mouths as they went on a prooftexting rampage, trying to exact their will on weak-minded parishioners.
In all the ways I had heard it described, it was the "fear" word that created so many ridiculous interpretations. As people are temporal beings, they tend to put greatest emphasis on the first in any list, or even in a sentence. What if it had said, "Wisdom has its beginnings in the fear of the Lord"? Would people then have concentrated more on the term "wisdom" rather than "fear?"
For me personally, approaching this sentence with a description of wisdom first fills in what the remainder of the intent of the sentence is, in a much calmer and more humane explanation.
What is wisdom? So far, in all the Proverbs quotes, we have seen wisdom described as something that was in place before the heavens and the earth. We see wisdom as something that will promise good results to those who practice it. We have seen wisdom as the foil of Folly, the prostitute who will desecrate a man's future. In all the examples of wisdom, we see a constant "rightness," a way of making sense of the universe. Even, if you will, a moral order to the universe, that if you practice it, will align your life up with a good outcome, even if it means delaying gratification, eschewing the quick carnal fix, or just rejecting being lazy.
In any of these applications of wisdom, we see a commonality, and that is a setting aside of one's immediate "selfish" desires. "Self-ish" refers to the insistence on one's "self" as an arbiter of the choice of action. "Self" only exists as the final arbiter of choice if there is nothing other than "self" around. If one accepts one's creation, and therefore one's Creator, then one must, by that logic, recognize that there is something greater than "self" around. I did not create my self, someone else did. My Creator did. He has a say in my choices, not just my "self."
However one interprets the word "fear," (awe, reverence, fear, terror, respect, obeisance, submission, etc.) the end result is that there is an "other-ness" that is outside one's self, and GREATER THAN one's self. Since the practice of wisdom demands a recognitions of the pitfalls of following one's selfish demands, and suggests that a long-term better way to behave is a non-selfish way, recognition of any spiritual path which aligns oneself with this end result, the destruction of the "self" in "selfish," results in the practice of wisdom.
It has always seemed clear to me what the proverb is intending if one starts from the back of the sentence and works backward. Define wisdom, and how one's "selfish" interests usually result in un-wise behavior, devise a code of conduct that "destroys the self," and pretty soon, you have wisdom. This takes root in education, compassion, family orientation, and civic duty, because all of these tend to remove one's thoughts from oneself.
Starting with the word "fear" always lent itself to pretty foolish antipathies, in my opinion. In no way am I understating the need to fear God's commands, and to treat Him and His creation (us) with reverence, awe, and love, but trying to denote "fear" in the ways I have heard it, well, that simply never seemed all that wise to me.
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