It's been too many days since I have sat down to do this, and I can definitely tell a change in myself. Without a conscious effort to keep involved with the Word, life can easily crowd it out. It really all comes down to priorities. Life is not nearly as important of a priority as this, and I have to make a conscious decision to keep my priorities straight.
This portion of the NT has always been interesting for me. First of all, it is very dramatic. The arrest and trial of Jesus is a painful thing to read. If one imagines the environment, all the people, and all the pain, it is a very hard thing to think about. But, second, there has always been, for me, the question of the role of Judas.
Jesus continues to state that all is happening as prophesied. Jesus had to be delivered to the Sanhedrin in some way. The trial and crucifixion places all of humanity in the role of betrayer. We killed Christ. Humanity killed Jesus. His disciples "fled," and one of them is the "betrayer." The established religious system at the time, which Jesus' ideas threatened, was the active participant in the destruction of Christ, but all of this had to occur for the sake of grace, as, Jesus says, it was written.
If the story occurred without Judas's involvement, if there had been no betrayer of Jesus from His inner circle, and if the disciples had not fled, then the Sanhedrin would have had to overpower Him and kill Him and them outright. As Jesus said, had He chosen, no power on earth could have overtaken Him. However, He chose not to exercise His deity, in order for grace to be the final product. So, at some point in time, He was always going to have to surrender, voluntarily, in order to be crucified and fulfill the prophecy. Does it, then, really matter more that Judas betrayed Him than if the story had gone down differently and Jesus allowed Himself to be overpowered without a Judas. The end result would have been the same, and in fact, Judas was the functioning agent for the arrest of Jesus. Someone would always have had to fill that role, or else Jesus would have allowed the Sanhedrin to take Him by force.
So, why put Judas in the role of a "betrayer" if the story had already been written that Jesus had to die? Judas filled a part in a cosmic drama that he was "predestined" to fulfill (if one believes in that). If one does not believe in predestination, then Judas' free will in betraying Jesus is really still pretty insignificant compared to Jesus allowing Himself to be taken and not calling on "12 legions" of angels to protect him. Jesus was "predestined" to die. I don't deny Judas' role as betrayer, but I wonder about the literal interpretation of him as the "greatest" of all betrayers, secondary to this particular betrayal, since the endpoint would have been the same regardless of whether a betrayal occurred.
When I get stuck on these sorts of issues, I have to remember that rationality does not provide the way to faith, it provides a stumbling block to faith sometimes, and it definitely is the fuel for legalistic zealotry. So, at times like this, I have to back off, and have faith in the entire story, but I still wonder about his literary depiction as the greatest betrayer of all time.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Sunday, February 7, 2010
I was afraid...
This has always been one of my most difficult sections in NT reading. I am not sure I understand it very well.
As I was reading it today, I thought I might have caught something I never caught before. I think I figured out finally the attitude of the man who buried the gold and didn't invest it. I took a risk with my money a couple of years ago. I invested in a house that there was no way I could afford, with the thought that I would sell it at a profit and move the profit into my church. In fact, before I even signed on the house, someone offered me a very large sum of money to take over my contract. I declined.
So, then the bottom fell out of the market, and now I am in a house that is far too much for one person, and pretty much mine for the duration now. I am not complaining, it is a well built house, but my intent has been changed a bit by market factors. Now, it may be a decade or two before I could get a profit, if ever. That being the case, now it's just a matter of how much I am willing to lose. Losing a "little" may be the profit over losing a "lot."
So, my attempt was to take a risk with my money for a benefit for my church, and I failed. Had I buried my money in the yard, I would have just as much today as I did then, and would not have lost a very large amount on losing a "lot" on this house. So, over the last year or so, I wondered if I would be worse than the man who buried his money in the ground, because I have lost money, and at least he did not.
But, I didn't "not" do this because I was afraid. When I read the section today, I didn't just gloss over the facts of how much each servant made, or at least did not lose. I read about the attitude of the servants. The one who buried the gold was afraid, and that is why he buried it. Paul says "perfect faith casts out fear." I'm not sure I had perfect faith my financial deal would turn out alright, but I do consider myself to be faithful and ask Him for help. I am certainly not the only one in this country in this situation.
So, it seems that, again, things go back to the heart, the attitude behind the motivation.
Mercy, not sacrifices. This always seems to be one of the primary message of Christ.
As I was reading it today, I thought I might have caught something I never caught before. I think I figured out finally the attitude of the man who buried the gold and didn't invest it. I took a risk with my money a couple of years ago. I invested in a house that there was no way I could afford, with the thought that I would sell it at a profit and move the profit into my church. In fact, before I even signed on the house, someone offered me a very large sum of money to take over my contract. I declined.
So, then the bottom fell out of the market, and now I am in a house that is far too much for one person, and pretty much mine for the duration now. I am not complaining, it is a well built house, but my intent has been changed a bit by market factors. Now, it may be a decade or two before I could get a profit, if ever. That being the case, now it's just a matter of how much I am willing to lose. Losing a "little" may be the profit over losing a "lot."
So, my attempt was to take a risk with my money for a benefit for my church, and I failed. Had I buried my money in the yard, I would have just as much today as I did then, and would not have lost a very large amount on losing a "lot" on this house. So, over the last year or so, I wondered if I would be worse than the man who buried his money in the ground, because I have lost money, and at least he did not.
But, I didn't "not" do this because I was afraid. When I read the section today, I didn't just gloss over the facts of how much each servant made, or at least did not lose. I read about the attitude of the servants. The one who buried the gold was afraid, and that is why he buried it. Paul says "perfect faith casts out fear." I'm not sure I had perfect faith my financial deal would turn out alright, but I do consider myself to be faithful and ask Him for help. I am certainly not the only one in this country in this situation.
So, it seems that, again, things go back to the heart, the attitude behind the motivation.
Mercy, not sacrifices. This always seems to be one of the primary message of Christ.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
The Moral Order and The Responsible Servant
There are a couple of things in today's NT reading that spoke to me.
I have always considered things, when I am confused about them, by going to extremes. What is the extreme example of faith? It is the "is/is not" question of life. Regardless of whether one is raised Hindu, Sikh, Christian, or any religion, there is a fundamental question about all spirituality and faith. Is there a "God?" Or rather, is there a fundamental moral order to the universe?
If a "moral" God, who is the creator of the universe, exists, then by dint of His omniscience and omnipotence, in the expression of His creativity of the physical nature of the universe, then one has to ask whether He created a moral order to the universe. When we are confused in issues of faith, and we are parsing Christian theological doctrine internally in a denominationalistic approach, or externally, validating "Christianity" against other faith practices, we have to ask ourselves, as we stick to what we think is "right," whether there is some overarching moral principle or north/south moral pole to the universe against which all actions in the universe can be judged?
That is, if something is right in my perspective, and it is fundamentally wrong in someone else's perspective, and we feel equally correct in our assessment, is there a external moral framework in the universe that this point of contention can be assessed against to figure out which of us is "right" or at least, more "right" relative to that moral order?
The underlying question is not whether something is more or less right, it is whether true right and wrong actually exists. It is whether there is a true moral order in the universe outside of the construct of the human mind. If humanity is wiped out next year by a meteor impact, does every "right/wrong" principle we are seeking to understand as humans lose validity because there are no humans around to assess these distinctions. Does "morality" exist outside of us, by the presence a true moral order, or is "morality" merely a human construct, to be lost to the universe if the earth is destroyed by a meteor?
In the NT reading today, Christ answers that question.
"Heaven and earth will disappear, but my words will remain forever."
Morality, from the deity Christ, exists distinct from humanity. The moral order to the universe truly exists. The distinction for Christians is that it is "my words" (Christ's words) that serve as the fundamental reflection of that moral order, given to us in ways our human minds can understand. So, the question I always pose, when issues of theological doctrine or the rightness or wrongness of any action is raised, is actually answered very succinctly in this section.
The other part that spoke to me had to do with the description of the faithful and sensible servant being rewarded by his master, when he takes care of that to which the master entrusts him.
To what are we entrusted? We are entrusted first to ourselves. The only control we have is self-control, so the major treasure we have to which we are entrusted is ourselves. What does this mean?
Do we "sin?" When we sin, we do things that harm the gift that we have been given. If we practice immorality, we feed a part of our mind that perpetuates further violation of the care of ourselves. If we drink to excess, we lose the faculty to take care of the gift we were given. If we overeat, we lose control of our pancreas, suffer diabetes, and take away our ability to fix ourselves possibly. If we commit violence, we will suffer the consequences of that violence against ourselves. In other words, by performing any act that negates the health of the gift of our lives, we are an irresponsible servant.
To what else are we entrusted, besides ourselves? We are entrusted with social responsibility, the requirement to care for each other. The people around us are gifts to themselves the way we are a gift to ourselves, and it is our requirement to help each other, and ourselves, to be the responsible servant. This mandates that we care for the other gifts we see God giving, the gifts, the lives, that come into our sphere.
Sometimes the requirement of doing that can cause a self-harm, and that is why I believe Christ suggested methods by which we avoid martyrdom, since we are not supposed to be irresponsible with the gift of ourselves that God has given us. But regardless, it is not only ourselves to whom we are responsible in Christ, but to others who have that same gift and may require any added help we have available to impart to them.
I fail in the second part far too much for my liking, and the older I get, and the more resources I have, the more I see myself failing. But, rather than despair which is an irresponsible luxury, work toward betterment needs to be my goal.
---------------------
In one final aside, I enjoyed the OT reading as well. Particularly when Moses heard all the instructions of God, and the first thing he did was build an altar.
People can "worship the altar" or "worship at the altar." I was reminded of the difference in those two phrases when I read the account and saw that Moses' first act of faith was to build the altar. I wondered what future generations would do. Would they "worship the altar," or "worship at the altar?" Which one did Moses intend, when he built the altar, and which one is it that we do today? It seems there is a lot to think about, regarding deconstruction and legalism, in that question.
I have always considered things, when I am confused about them, by going to extremes. What is the extreme example of faith? It is the "is/is not" question of life. Regardless of whether one is raised Hindu, Sikh, Christian, or any religion, there is a fundamental question about all spirituality and faith. Is there a "God?" Or rather, is there a fundamental moral order to the universe?
If a "moral" God, who is the creator of the universe, exists, then by dint of His omniscience and omnipotence, in the expression of His creativity of the physical nature of the universe, then one has to ask whether He created a moral order to the universe. When we are confused in issues of faith, and we are parsing Christian theological doctrine internally in a denominationalistic approach, or externally, validating "Christianity" against other faith practices, we have to ask ourselves, as we stick to what we think is "right," whether there is some overarching moral principle or north/south moral pole to the universe against which all actions in the universe can be judged?
That is, if something is right in my perspective, and it is fundamentally wrong in someone else's perspective, and we feel equally correct in our assessment, is there a external moral framework in the universe that this point of contention can be assessed against to figure out which of us is "right" or at least, more "right" relative to that moral order?
The underlying question is not whether something is more or less right, it is whether true right and wrong actually exists. It is whether there is a true moral order in the universe outside of the construct of the human mind. If humanity is wiped out next year by a meteor impact, does every "right/wrong" principle we are seeking to understand as humans lose validity because there are no humans around to assess these distinctions. Does "morality" exist outside of us, by the presence a true moral order, or is "morality" merely a human construct, to be lost to the universe if the earth is destroyed by a meteor?
In the NT reading today, Christ answers that question.
"Heaven and earth will disappear, but my words will remain forever."
Morality, from the deity Christ, exists distinct from humanity. The moral order to the universe truly exists. The distinction for Christians is that it is "my words" (Christ's words) that serve as the fundamental reflection of that moral order, given to us in ways our human minds can understand. So, the question I always pose, when issues of theological doctrine or the rightness or wrongness of any action is raised, is actually answered very succinctly in this section.
The other part that spoke to me had to do with the description of the faithful and sensible servant being rewarded by his master, when he takes care of that to which the master entrusts him.
To what are we entrusted? We are entrusted first to ourselves. The only control we have is self-control, so the major treasure we have to which we are entrusted is ourselves. What does this mean?
Do we "sin?" When we sin, we do things that harm the gift that we have been given. If we practice immorality, we feed a part of our mind that perpetuates further violation of the care of ourselves. If we drink to excess, we lose the faculty to take care of the gift we were given. If we overeat, we lose control of our pancreas, suffer diabetes, and take away our ability to fix ourselves possibly. If we commit violence, we will suffer the consequences of that violence against ourselves. In other words, by performing any act that negates the health of the gift of our lives, we are an irresponsible servant.
To what else are we entrusted, besides ourselves? We are entrusted with social responsibility, the requirement to care for each other. The people around us are gifts to themselves the way we are a gift to ourselves, and it is our requirement to help each other, and ourselves, to be the responsible servant. This mandates that we care for the other gifts we see God giving, the gifts, the lives, that come into our sphere.
Sometimes the requirement of doing that can cause a self-harm, and that is why I believe Christ suggested methods by which we avoid martyrdom, since we are not supposed to be irresponsible with the gift of ourselves that God has given us. But regardless, it is not only ourselves to whom we are responsible in Christ, but to others who have that same gift and may require any added help we have available to impart to them.
I fail in the second part far too much for my liking, and the older I get, and the more resources I have, the more I see myself failing. But, rather than despair which is an irresponsible luxury, work toward betterment needs to be my goal.
---------------------
In one final aside, I enjoyed the OT reading as well. Particularly when Moses heard all the instructions of God, and the first thing he did was build an altar.
People can "worship the altar" or "worship at the altar." I was reminded of the difference in those two phrases when I read the account and saw that Moses' first act of faith was to build the altar. I wondered what future generations would do. Would they "worship the altar," or "worship at the altar?" Which one did Moses intend, when he built the altar, and which one is it that we do today? It seems there is a lot to think about, regarding deconstruction and legalism, in that question.
Friday, February 5, 2010
The abomination of desolation
In my translation, it says, "the sacrilegious object that causes desecration standing in the Holy Place."
Over and over, Christ is teaching a pattern of what's inside being what matters. He continues to quote Hosea 6:6 to state the God requires mercy not sacrifices, in other words, tenderness of heart rather than frozen ritual.
The only way we are able to guard against ritual becoming our "God" is to continue to cultivate a Godly spirit, tenderness, love, mercy, patience, etc. By seeking this type of heart, we keep ourselves guarded against those who preach a "harder" loveless Christianity. If we all, all of us, lose our hearts, and lose our focus, then soon the inevitable rush of legalism and ritualism slides toward a worship of something that bears less and less resemblance to "God" (tenderness, patience, forgiveness, love) and more resemblance to something that is quite the antithesis of God, even though we don't intend that.
Even with good intentions, if we lose our hearts, we head toward a day that we worship the antithesis of the Father of Jesus, and soon the sacrilegious object that causes desecration will be the focus of the Holy Place. When we are so far away from the mark, by our hardened hearts, we will be ripe for destruction. Temples will not stand. The lack of love will cause true prophets to be rounded up and persecuted by false prophets. And all of this comes from losing our own hearts.
The heart of God keeps us away from that state. We have to interpret the text with an eye to what it represents, and stay away from the slow decline into legalism. Words become cages that bar us from seeing the meaning, but only to a point. We can also not slide into deconstructionism and nihilism by over interpreting our words. A straight path, but tempered by love and faith.
Over and over, Christ is teaching a pattern of what's inside being what matters. He continues to quote Hosea 6:6 to state the God requires mercy not sacrifices, in other words, tenderness of heart rather than frozen ritual.
The only way we are able to guard against ritual becoming our "God" is to continue to cultivate a Godly spirit, tenderness, love, mercy, patience, etc. By seeking this type of heart, we keep ourselves guarded against those who preach a "harder" loveless Christianity. If we all, all of us, lose our hearts, and lose our focus, then soon the inevitable rush of legalism and ritualism slides toward a worship of something that bears less and less resemblance to "God" (tenderness, patience, forgiveness, love) and more resemblance to something that is quite the antithesis of God, even though we don't intend that.
Even with good intentions, if we lose our hearts, we head toward a day that we worship the antithesis of the Father of Jesus, and soon the sacrilegious object that causes desecration will be the focus of the Holy Place. When we are so far away from the mark, by our hardened hearts, we will be ripe for destruction. Temples will not stand. The lack of love will cause true prophets to be rounded up and persecuted by false prophets. And all of this comes from losing our own hearts.
The heart of God keeps us away from that state. We have to interpret the text with an eye to what it represents, and stay away from the slow decline into legalism. Words become cages that bar us from seeing the meaning, but only to a point. We can also not slide into deconstructionism and nihilism by over interpreting our words. A straight path, but tempered by love and faith.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
The inside of the cup
I am really beginning to hate myself.
How many times have I been guilty of greed and self-indulgence? Or of ignoring justice, mercy, and faith? How many camels have I swallowed while straining water for gnats?
I fall so short, all the time. And every time I fall short, I remember that I thought I was "doing it right" at the time. I really thought I was trying to live a good life, do the right thing, and do the things that made sense to me. But when the car goes shooting off the interstate at high speed, I'm reminded that I didn't even come close. Not truly. I missed the mark by a wide, wide margin, even though I really thought I was coloring inside the lines. How far away from the ideal that I perceive that I have been is an indicator of how poor of a person I am.
So, even though I think I am trying, even though I think I am doing the right things, I fail. And I fail in a big, big way. Spectacularly, miserably, violently, whimperingly... I fail. And the one thing in common with all these statements is "I." "I" fail. I'm really beginning to hate myself.
Every day, my prayers have been to remove the "I" from me. God needs to drive, and my job is to follow and do what He tells me to do. When "I" come in, "I" fails.
So, I can hate "myself" and not get caught up in self-hatred. I can be instructed from this process to continue to place God's plan for me first. The "me" that is the dirt on the inside of the cup needs attention. The outcome of that dirt, and the poison it creates, is my focus for "hatred."
I was created in a certain way, and the parts of the world that I have taken on and have created this "me" that fails, I can "hate," but I can do it without despair. I hate intolerance and evil, but I do not despair from it. Despair would rob me of my ability to correct that evil, further playing into the hands of the creator of the evil. If I despaired over my own shortcomings, I would be playing into further selfishness and falling farther into that trap. By hating what I see, I can know what I need to correct, passionately, and know what I need to fill my cup with. Mercy, justice, faith...
Jesus spoke against the Pharisees. But what if some of them were well intentioned? What if some of them truly thought they were doing the right thing, because so much of their past had taught this to them. What if some good, well intentioned Phariseeical student, with mercy in his heart, and a sincere love for God, simply could not believe in the deity of Christ because doing so would violate his own faith in right versus wrong? What if his heart were pure and full of humility, and was paralyzed for fear of committing a sin against his knowledge of God? What if that Pharisee was me?
I am starting to really understand how little I can rely on my own understanding. It's easy to Pharisee-bash, but what if I am that Pharisee? I know how much I fail, so I seek to understand, and right now, I start with hating what I see, and using that to correct what I can know.
After my latest crash-and-burn, I know I need to take time to think about what I did wrong. How far away from the mark I was, even though I thought I was doing the right thing. How much I need to lose the "I" and follow God's plan for my life. And if I have even messed that up, how much I need to depend on grace and have faith that if it is His will, He will bring me back to it.
It's faith, again.
How many times have I been guilty of greed and self-indulgence? Or of ignoring justice, mercy, and faith? How many camels have I swallowed while straining water for gnats?
I fall so short, all the time. And every time I fall short, I remember that I thought I was "doing it right" at the time. I really thought I was trying to live a good life, do the right thing, and do the things that made sense to me. But when the car goes shooting off the interstate at high speed, I'm reminded that I didn't even come close. Not truly. I missed the mark by a wide, wide margin, even though I really thought I was coloring inside the lines. How far away from the ideal that I perceive that I have been is an indicator of how poor of a person I am.
So, even though I think I am trying, even though I think I am doing the right things, I fail. And I fail in a big, big way. Spectacularly, miserably, violently, whimperingly... I fail. And the one thing in common with all these statements is "I." "I" fail. I'm really beginning to hate myself.
Every day, my prayers have been to remove the "I" from me. God needs to drive, and my job is to follow and do what He tells me to do. When "I" come in, "I" fails.
So, I can hate "myself" and not get caught up in self-hatred. I can be instructed from this process to continue to place God's plan for me first. The "me" that is the dirt on the inside of the cup needs attention. The outcome of that dirt, and the poison it creates, is my focus for "hatred."
I was created in a certain way, and the parts of the world that I have taken on and have created this "me" that fails, I can "hate," but I can do it without despair. I hate intolerance and evil, but I do not despair from it. Despair would rob me of my ability to correct that evil, further playing into the hands of the creator of the evil. If I despaired over my own shortcomings, I would be playing into further selfishness and falling farther into that trap. By hating what I see, I can know what I need to correct, passionately, and know what I need to fill my cup with. Mercy, justice, faith...
Jesus spoke against the Pharisees. But what if some of them were well intentioned? What if some of them truly thought they were doing the right thing, because so much of their past had taught this to them. What if some good, well intentioned Phariseeical student, with mercy in his heart, and a sincere love for God, simply could not believe in the deity of Christ because doing so would violate his own faith in right versus wrong? What if his heart were pure and full of humility, and was paralyzed for fear of committing a sin against his knowledge of God? What if that Pharisee was me?
I am starting to really understand how little I can rely on my own understanding. It's easy to Pharisee-bash, but what if I am that Pharisee? I know how much I fail, so I seek to understand, and right now, I start with hating what I see, and using that to correct what I can know.
After my latest crash-and-burn, I know I need to take time to think about what I did wrong. How far away from the mark I was, even though I thought I was doing the right thing. How much I need to lose the "I" and follow God's plan for my life. And if I have even messed that up, how much I need to depend on grace and have faith that if it is His will, He will bring me back to it.
It's faith, again.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
"Heaven" means never having to say you're married...
I know. I really shouldn't. And if I weren't trying to make a point through a bit of irreverent humor, I really wouldn't.
When the Pharisees try to trap Jesus with the story of the woman who marries 7 brothers, based on a Judaic law, Jesus response is, "For when the dead rise, they won't be married. They will be like the angels in Heaven."
This is one of those comments that falls in between deconstructionism and accountability. In response to an impossible situation "demanded" by "law," Jesus response is a re-orientation of the earth-bound pharisees, who continually miss the mark, into a Heaven approach. By giving this description of the matrimonial status of the risen, Jesus reminds them that earthly "logic" by which these tricks and games are being laid to ensnare Him, does not hold in the setting of the afterlife. By giving this authoritative response, He not only deflects the trap, but also reminds the Pharisees of their limited vision.
However, in my personal, twice-divorced setting, I find it interesting that marriage is a temporal construct with limited penetrance into the eternal. It seems like the saying, on Earth as it is in Heaven, may be missing a step. What is the purpose of marriage on earth, if it is disavowed in Heaven? And in a reverse sense of accountability, does marriage have relevance temporally, if it has no relevance eternally? Would a deconstructionist play with this logic train, only to derail it as a way of undermining all meaning?
I know, with my past, I am prone to put such a spin on it, but then I remember that my "logic" is meaningless in the grand scheme of things, and I simply need to have faith. My first wife remarried, and has a much happier life now than I could ever have given her. My second wife, well, pretty much has very little use for me in this reality. I'm not sure that the next reality will improve her outlook on me. But, then, that's me thinking like a Pharisee again. It's not about my human understanding. It's about my faith.
"They will be like the angels in Heaven." Just have to read and have faith, faith, faith...
When the Pharisees try to trap Jesus with the story of the woman who marries 7 brothers, based on a Judaic law, Jesus response is, "For when the dead rise, they won't be married. They will be like the angels in Heaven."
This is one of those comments that falls in between deconstructionism and accountability. In response to an impossible situation "demanded" by "law," Jesus response is a re-orientation of the earth-bound pharisees, who continually miss the mark, into a Heaven approach. By giving this description of the matrimonial status of the risen, Jesus reminds them that earthly "logic" by which these tricks and games are being laid to ensnare Him, does not hold in the setting of the afterlife. By giving this authoritative response, He not only deflects the trap, but also reminds the Pharisees of their limited vision.
However, in my personal, twice-divorced setting, I find it interesting that marriage is a temporal construct with limited penetrance into the eternal. It seems like the saying, on Earth as it is in Heaven, may be missing a step. What is the purpose of marriage on earth, if it is disavowed in Heaven? And in a reverse sense of accountability, does marriage have relevance temporally, if it has no relevance eternally? Would a deconstructionist play with this logic train, only to derail it as a way of undermining all meaning?
I know, with my past, I am prone to put such a spin on it, but then I remember that my "logic" is meaningless in the grand scheme of things, and I simply need to have faith. My first wife remarried, and has a much happier life now than I could ever have given her. My second wife, well, pretty much has very little use for me in this reality. I'm not sure that the next reality will improve her outlook on me. But, then, that's me thinking like a Pharisee again. It's not about my human understanding. It's about my faith.
"They will be like the angels in Heaven." Just have to read and have faith, faith, faith...
Monday, February 1, 2010
No Middle Ground
When Jesus turns the question about authority back on the Pharisees, He asks them whether John's baptism came from Heaven or was it merely human.
"They talked it over among themselves. 'If we say it was from heaven, he will ask why we didn't believe him. But if we say it was merely human, we'll be mobbed, because the people think he was a prophet.' So they finally replied, 'We don't know.'"
Lame, lame, lame, lame, lame lame, LAME!
Jesus took the act of John's baptism and put it in a place where all spiritual questions belong, the is/isn't category. I think I may have blogged about this earlier, at the beginning of Genesis. At what point in time in your life do you answer the question of spirituality. Either God "is" or he "isn't." Once that question is firmly answered in your mind, all other aspects of spirituality will flow. If he "isn't" then why in the world ought anyone do anything merciful for another at one's own expense? If he "isn't" then why shouldn't your behavior be all about gluttony and avarice and domination, because then nothing else "is" outside yourself, so go ahead.
But if He "is" then all the rest of the behaviors in your life fall into place, mercy, kindness, faith, love, everything we all depend on every day. It's a question that has no middle ground. It is an "is/isn't" question with absolutely ZERO gray zone. We can ignore the question, and go party, but the question has only two answers, yes, or no.
Jesus obviously understood the downstream ramifications of His question, and how they would envelop human understanding. With a sublimely simple question, He captures the Pharisees. The Pharisees know the risk of being caught in that question. It's the same risk we all face, every day, once we face the long shadow of eternity and as, "Is God?" or "Isn't God?" We all know what we are supposed to do with our lives, once we answer that question, but we can be afraid to do it, so we shy away from it, and ignore it, turn on the TV and say, I'm too busy to think about it, or tell the obnoxious person pestering us for the answer, I don't know.
This is us, every day, seeing that question, and shying away from the yes/no answer and what that answer DEMANDS from us. We see that demand, and we fear we cannot meet it, so we say, I don't know.
So, Jesus asks the question. GOD asks the question to a group of men, and the best they can come up with is, "we don't know."
Isn't that what we all do? And isn't Jesus basically saying, "LOOK, NOW!, God is here, and you are being asked, YES or NO!" And in our fearful, cringing, pathetic attempts to cling to our own identity, or own pitiful "power," we mumble, in the face of God, "Well, God, um, I... I don't really know."
There is no middle ground. There never has been, there never will be. Any attempt to believe in a middle ground is an illusory attempt to dodge a question and cling to an identity that will fade to dust in the attempt. The Pharisees could have said "No! John was a fake!" and that would have shown some guts, because they would have been standing up for a belief, but instead, they chickened out. A belief in NO God is still a belief, but belief in a middle ground is no belief at all, by the "yes/no, is/isn't" argument.
Jesus painted the eternal "yes/no" question as a way of validating his authority. As Deity, He could have made his authority by snapping His fingers, but He chose to use human terms, human language, to gain his authority from humans, giving us the power to believe in Him.
How much more do we believe in something when we come to it in our terms, versus when it is forced down our throats.? By defining the lack of the middle ground, Jesus lets us come to Him on our terms. The mercy and love in that act is why I chose to be Christian.
"They talked it over among themselves. 'If we say it was from heaven, he will ask why we didn't believe him. But if we say it was merely human, we'll be mobbed, because the people think he was a prophet.' So they finally replied, 'We don't know.'"
Lame, lame, lame, lame, lame lame, LAME!
Jesus took the act of John's baptism and put it in a place where all spiritual questions belong, the is/isn't category. I think I may have blogged about this earlier, at the beginning of Genesis. At what point in time in your life do you answer the question of spirituality. Either God "is" or he "isn't." Once that question is firmly answered in your mind, all other aspects of spirituality will flow. If he "isn't" then why in the world ought anyone do anything merciful for another at one's own expense? If he "isn't" then why shouldn't your behavior be all about gluttony and avarice and domination, because then nothing else "is" outside yourself, so go ahead.
But if He "is" then all the rest of the behaviors in your life fall into place, mercy, kindness, faith, love, everything we all depend on every day. It's a question that has no middle ground. It is an "is/isn't" question with absolutely ZERO gray zone. We can ignore the question, and go party, but the question has only two answers, yes, or no.
Jesus obviously understood the downstream ramifications of His question, and how they would envelop human understanding. With a sublimely simple question, He captures the Pharisees. The Pharisees know the risk of being caught in that question. It's the same risk we all face, every day, once we face the long shadow of eternity and as, "Is God?" or "Isn't God?" We all know what we are supposed to do with our lives, once we answer that question, but we can be afraid to do it, so we shy away from it, and ignore it, turn on the TV and say, I'm too busy to think about it, or tell the obnoxious person pestering us for the answer, I don't know.
This is us, every day, seeing that question, and shying away from the yes/no answer and what that answer DEMANDS from us. We see that demand, and we fear we cannot meet it, so we say, I don't know.
So, Jesus asks the question. GOD asks the question to a group of men, and the best they can come up with is, "we don't know."
Isn't that what we all do? And isn't Jesus basically saying, "LOOK, NOW!, God is here, and you are being asked, YES or NO!" And in our fearful, cringing, pathetic attempts to cling to our own identity, or own pitiful "power," we mumble, in the face of God, "Well, God, um, I... I don't really know."
There is no middle ground. There never has been, there never will be. Any attempt to believe in a middle ground is an illusory attempt to dodge a question and cling to an identity that will fade to dust in the attempt. The Pharisees could have said "No! John was a fake!" and that would have shown some guts, because they would have been standing up for a belief, but instead, they chickened out. A belief in NO God is still a belief, but belief in a middle ground is no belief at all, by the "yes/no, is/isn't" argument.
Jesus painted the eternal "yes/no" question as a way of validating his authority. As Deity, He could have made his authority by snapping His fingers, but He chose to use human terms, human language, to gain his authority from humans, giving us the power to believe in Him.
How much more do we believe in something when we come to it in our terms, versus when it is forced down our throats.? By defining the lack of the middle ground, Jesus lets us come to Him on our terms. The mercy and love in that act is why I chose to be Christian.
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