Wednesday, October 27, 2021

Can't We Please Get Rid of Nahum?

 

Can’t We Please Get Rid of Nahum?

October 27, 2021

 

The Scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

 

As most of us know, the Christian Old Testament, which is also the Jewish Bible (or at least the Protestant Old Testament is), has in it several books with the names of ancient Hebrew prophets. Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel are long books of prophetic oracles. There are also books named for the “minor” prophets, which just means that their books are short. The term isn’t a value assessment. There are twelve of them. In the Hebrew Bible they’re lumped together and called the book of the twelve. Although it’s not intended to, the term “minor prophets” suggests that these books are less significant than the prophetic books not called minor, but that’s not true of at least some of them. Amos and Micah have wonderful passages in them about justice, peace, and the life of faith. The Christian story of Palm Sunday is based on Zechariah 9:9. I see Jonah as wonderful biblical comic relief. They’re all among the twelve. The books of the twelve “minor” prophets are worth paying some attention to.

Or at least some of them are. Unfortunately, there is one of them that, in your author’s not so humble opinion, ought not be in the Bible at all. It’s the book of Nahum. If you’re not familiar with Nahum, welcome to the club. Only biblical scholars and biblical fanatics know Nahum at all. Most of the rest of us don’t. It’s located between Micah and Habakkuk in the Christian Old Testament canon. It’s short, having only forty-seven verses arranged into three chapters. It’s there, but it shouldn’t be there or anywhere else in the Bible. Here’s why.

We start by recognizing that there is really nothing of spiritual value in Nahum. It does say:

 

The Lord is good,

     a stronghold in a day of trouble,

he protects those who take refuge in

               him,

     even in a rushing flood. Nahum 1:7.

 

It also says,

 

Look! On the mountains the feet

of one who brings good tidings,

who proclaims peace! Nahum 1:15a.

 

Don’t let those two passages fool you. Nahum isn’t about a God we would call good, and no one in it proclaims peace.

There are two huge problems with Nahum that I want to point out. They are that it says false and defamatory things about God, and that it glorifies horrendous violence. I’ll consider those faults in that order. First, Nahum simply gets God wrong. The text is actually talking about the Hebrew God Yahweh, but we can understand it to be speaking about the one true God that Yahweh eventually evolved into in the people’s understanding. After a one line introduction Nahum begins this way:

 

A jealous and avenging God is

               the Lord,

     The Lord is avenging and

                wrathful;

The Lord takes vengeance on his

               adversaries

     and rages against his enemies.

The Lord is slow to anger but great

               in power,

     and the Lord will by no means

               clear the guilty. Nahum 1:2-3a.

 

According to Nahum God’s wrath affects not only God’s enemies but the earth itself:

 

He rebukes the sea, and makes it dry,

     and he dries up all the rivers;

Bashan and Carmel[1] wither,

     and the bloom of Lebanon fades.

The mountains quake before him,

               and the hills melt;

The earth heaves before him,

               the world and all who live in it. Nahum 1:3b-5.

 

Other Hebrew prophets often speak of God’s wrath, but in Nahum God’s wrath is different than it is in the other prophetic books. In those other books God’s wrath is directed against God’s people because of their faithlessness. In Nahum God’s wrath is directed against Nineveh, the capital city of the
Assyrian Empire which had conquered and destroyed the northern Hebrew kingdom of Israel in 722
BCE. It’s not hard to dislike the Assyrians quite intensely. Like other empires ancient and modern they were aggressively militaristic and expansionist. Nahum presents God as wrathful against them, and that wrathful God is all Nahum gives us. This God rages against his so-called enemies. Nahum’s God simply is not the God I know in and through Jesus Christ. We Christians know that God is love not wrath and vengeance. So do the Jews, whose text Nahum actually is. As I read Nahum’s depiction of God with which the book begins I just say no. That’s not who God is. I could never love a God like that. This aspect of Nahum alone is reason enough for excising it from the Bible.

But wait! There’s more! Chapters 2 and 3 of Nahum do essentially nothing but celebrate and revel in bloody violence. It is violence against the bad actor Assyria, but it is still violence. It glorifies death and destruction. Here’s a sample of this failing of Nahum, and remember, it’s talking about the Babylonian destruction of Nineveh:

 

The shields of his warriors are red,

     his soldiers are clothed in crimson.

The metal on the chariots flashes

     on the day when he musters them;

     the chargers prance.

The chariots race madly through the

               streets,

     they rush to and fro through

               the squares;

their appearance is like torches,

     they dart like lightning. Nahum 2:3-4.

 

In chapter 3 we get this:

 

The crack of whip and rumble

               of wheel,

     galloping horse and bounding

               chariot!

Horsemen charging,

     flashing sword and glittering spear,

               heaps of corpses,

     dead bodies without end—

               they stumble over the bodies!

 

There’s more, but I trust you get the point. In Nahum all that violence is supposed to be a good thing because it is directed against bad people. This book celebrates the bloody defeat of an enemy of Israel and Judah. It delights in the thought of piles of the dead bodies of the Assyrian people, most of whom of course had nothing to do with Assyria’s defeat of Israel. It rubs Assyria’s destruction in its face and delights in its bloody fall. And it sees all of that blood and death as the work of a violent, vengeful, wrathful God.

Do we need a book like that in our Bible? No, we don’t. We know or can easily find out about Assyria, its conquest of Israel, and its defeat by the Babylonians. All of that is just facts of ancient history. We need to know the basics of that history to understand what some of the Old Testament is talking about. We don’t need to revel in the shedding of blood and an untold number of deaths. So if I could I would excise Nahum out of the Bible. It gives a grossly false image of God. It celebrates what it should mourn. We’d be better off without it.



[1] Traditionally fertile areas between Judah and Syria.

On Recovering our Sight

 

On Recovering our Sight

October 27, 2021

 

One of the striking things about the Gospel stories of Jesus is how often they tell of him giving sight to the blind. There are six of them. They are:

 

·        Mark 8:22-26. Jesus heals a blind man at Bethsaida.

·        Mark 10:46b-52. Jesus heals blind Bartimaeus at Jericho.

·        Matthew 9:27-31. Jesus heals two blind men.

·        Matthew 20:29-34. Jesus heals two blind men at Jericho—Matthew’s version of the healing of Bartimaeus in Mark.

·        Luke 18:35-43. Jesus heals a blind beggar at Jericho—Luke’s version of the healing of Bartimaeus in Mark.

·        John 9:1-7. Jesus heals a man born blind.

 

Even when we consider that three of those stories are versions of the story of the one story of the healing of blind Bartimaeus, that’s quite a few stories of Jesus giving or restoring sight to blind people. Of course gaining or regaining one’s sight must be a great blessing for people who are blind. The Gospel writers certainly thought it important for them to include those stories in their proclamations of Jesus Christ that we call the Gospels. These stories, along with others of Jesus healing other maladies, present Jesus as a miracle healer.[1] Yet as I’ve said about so many Bible stories, these stories of Jesus giving sight to the blind don’t have that much to say to us if they are only about things that happened to other people a long time ago in place far away. The great Bible stories are still with us because they so often tell us things about our own lives and our relationship with God, not just about the people who appear in the stories. Sometimes what those ancient stories are about is pretty obvious. The most obvious lesson (there are several others) in the Parable of the Good Samaritan that we are to care for people in need and not pass by on the other side of the road is hard to miss. But what about those stories of Jesus giving sight to the blind? Do they have a meaning for us too? If there is one I don’t think that if there is one it is at all obvious. I mean, I have a granddaughter with a significant vision disability that will probably eventually make her blind. I don’t expect Jesus to come along and cure of that visual disability. I just don’t think God works that way. So if these stories have meaning for us it must be something other than “ask Jesus to cure physical blindness, and Jesus will cure physical blindness.” What might that other meaning be?

In answering that question we begin by understanding that the power and meaning of most Bible stories for us appear when we stop thinking of them merely as factual statements about something the supposedly once happened to other people. Thinking about Bible stories only as facts about other people deprives them of most of their power and meaning. Before the European Enlightenment of the seventeenth through the nineteenth centuries CE and the Scientific Revolution that was a significant part of it reduced truth to fact—and if you think only facts are true it’s because of those two revolutionary developments in the western world—while they understood Bible stories to be factually true, they also knew the value of reading those stories as more than mere facts. Sometimes they called that other way of reading allegory. Today some scholars call it historical metaphor. The theologically correct term for many Bible stories is myth, with myth understood to mean a story that points beyond itself to God and functions to connect us with God and God with us. Others are best understood simply as metaphors for something other than what is actually in them. Whatever you call it, the important thing is that Bible stories come alive for us when we get over thinking of them as mere fact and plumb them for deeper meaning than mere factual meaning.

For me at least the stories of Jesus giving sight to the blind come alive when we think of them as metaphors. But a metaphor for what? For, I think, the way in which all of us are metaphorically blind and the way Jesus can metaphorically grant us sight too. By blindness understood as metaphor I mean the way in which we all are to a greater or lesser extent morally and spiritually blind. We live according to the ways of the world not the ways of God. We don’t see God’s truth. We have scales over our eyes, scales of philosophical materialism, nationalism, the idolatry of wealth and power, selfishness, tribalism prejudice, and so many other false things that the world presents to us as true.[2] Most of us have physical sight. Nearly all of us lack spiritual sight. Most of us know the ways of the world, far too few of us know and are committed to following the ways of God. Most of us are indeed morally and spiritually blind.

The Gospel stories of Jesus giving sight to the blind don’t say they’re metaphors. There are however a couple of things about them that suggest, if only weakly, that their authors may have thought of them as metaphors. In Mark’s story of the healing of Bartimaeus the blind beggar Bartimaeus calls Jesus “my teacher.” Mark 10:51. The words rabbi in Hebrew and rabbouni in Aramaic, Jesus’ native language, both mean teacher. Bartimaeus calls Jesus his rabbi, his rabbouni. It is a rather odd thing for Bartimaeus to call him. As far as we’re told Jesus and Bartimaeus had never met before their encounter on the road out of Jericho. Until then, while Bartimaeus apparently had heard of Jesus he had never spent any time with him. Yet Bartimaeus calls Jesus “my teacher.” Consider also that all of the people to whom Jesus gives sight are men. Men studied with rabbis. Women didn’t (except in Luke’s story of Mary and Martha, but never mind). Is there a suggestion here that we are to consider Jesus to be a rabbi, a teacher, who can cure our spiritual blindness the way he restores physical sight to people in these stories? Perhaps.

In any event, if in these stories physical blindness is a metaphor for our spiritual blindness, for the worldly scales over our eyes, then Jesus curing people of their physical blindness must be a metaphor for how he can take the scales from our eyes and give us true moral and spiritual sight. How could Jesus restore our spiritual sight? He can’t if all we focus on about him are his suffering, death, and resurrection the way so much of Christianity does. He can if we will pay attention to his teachings, that part of what he offers us to which we so often pay lip service and never live into. It’s not that Jesus’ Passion isn’t important. It is, but it’s his teachings that can really remove the scales from our eyes if we’ll just listen to them and heed them.

What is that teaching? It is essentially turning nearly everything in the world upside down. It is what Jesus called the kingdom of God (which some of us today prefer to call the realm of God because we don’t like the connotations of the word kingdom). It is replacing violence with nonviolence, with creative, assertive, nonviolent resistance to evil. It is putting “the least of these” first and making those the world puts first last. It is focusing on the life of the spirit more than on physical life in the world. It is making God our God, our ultimate concern, and not any of the idols the world is always offering us, idols of nation, wealth, power, and the other lies we get from the world as though they were actually worth having and striving for. It is spending time in prayer and sabbath, not working ourselves to death in the pursuit of money and power.  It is caring for those in need and nonviolently deconstructing the world’s systems of oppression and injustice. It is nonviolently replacing those systems with systems of freedom for all and true distributive justice so that all God’s people have enough to live on.

Folks, if we would just take all of that teaching of Jesus to heart and live into it the world’s scales would fall from our eyes. We would see life anew and aright. We would walk in the true light of God rather than in the false light of the world. We would see the world the way God wants us to see the world. We would replace hatred with love, and doing that alone would transform the world. So let us come to realize how morally and spiritually blind we are, how morally and spiritually blind our world is. Let’s turn to Jesus and ask him to remove the scales from our eyes. Then let’s join him in the sacred work of gaining true sight and transforming the world into that reign of God of which Jesus said so much. May it be so.



[1] The ancient world had many people who performed healings or at least were reputed to do so. John Dominic Crossan says that what was unique about Jesus wasn’t that he healed people, it was the he didn’t charge for it.

[2] I am indebted to Joseph Campbell for the scales metaphor I use here.

Tuesday, October 26, 2021

What Prayer Gets Us

 

What Prayer Gets Us

October 26, 2021

 

The Scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

 

No matter how much I live with and study the Bible, no matter how much I teach and write about it, there are still passages that I can’t help but think are just wrong. There are others that are functionally wrong because people so grossly misinterpret them. Here’s one of them that’s just wrong at least as it is interpreted by a great many unsophisticated people of faith. The speaker here is of course Jesus:

 

‘So I say to you; Ask, and it will be given you, search, and you will find, knock, and the door will be opened for you. For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened. Is there anyone among you who, if your child asks for a fish, will give a snake instead of a fish? Or if the child asks for an egg, will give a scorpion? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to you children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him! Luke 11:9-13.

 

Here’s the problem I have with this text. Many people of faith draw the conclusion from it that if you want anything at all just ask God for it, and you’ll get it. Here’s an extreme example of that conviction that I’ve written about before. I heard once of a woman who said that every time she prayed that she would find on street parking in the downtown area of a big city where you nearly never can find such a valuable thing, she’s find it. Sounds silly, doesn’t it? But our text from Luke after all has Jesus say “seek, and you will find.” This woman seeks downtown on street parking, prays to God that she will find it, and Voila! She finds it! And she thinks, “Of course I find it. Jesus says, ‘For everyone who asks receives.’ I ask, and I receive what I asked for. It’s perfectly biblical, so why do you think what I say is silly?” Well, I think its silly for two powerful reasons. What she says is really bad theology, and it isn’t even what the text she cites says. First, it’s bad theology.

For reasons I guess I can understand but can never accept, it seems that an awful lot of people of faith cling tenaciously to old, bad theology. I’ll skip giving examples of such bad theology here (the classical theory of atonement, hint, hint). My point here is that whatever else they may do it to, they do it with this passage from Luke (and the identical passage at Matthew 7:7-11). A great many people take what seems to them to be the meaning of this passage literally. They really do think that God answers their prayers by giving them anything they have asked God for. Maybe they’ve had experiences where they’ve gotten something they prayed for, so they conclude that God gave it to them. Here’s the truth though: That theology has perhaps destroyed more faith in more people than has any other theological thesis.

The way this theology destroys faith begins with the expectations it creates. If you really believe that to get anything you want all you have to do is ask God for it you will come to expect God to do exactly what you want God to do in response to your request. That expectation may not be too harmful when applied to trivial matters like finding a parking place on a downtown street. People who believe this way, however,  do not limit what they ask God for to trivial things. People often pray to God for very weighty things. They pray, for example for a spouse’s recovery from grave illness or an end to conflict within a family or between nations. Sometimes events unfold in a way that allows the one who prayed for something to believe that God has intervened in worldly events and granted just what the person prayed for. More often than not, though, especially with regard to very serious things, events do not unfold that way at all. Say a husband fervently prays that God will cure his wife’s cancer, but his wife dies of that cancer anyway. Because he believed the bad theology in question here he had expected that God would save his wife’s life because that is what he asked God to do. The man may well cry out in his grief and his pain, “Why did God do this to her!?” Or, “Why didn’t God answer my prayer!?” Because to his way of thinking God indeed did not answer his prayer, he may give up on God altogether. His bad theology set an expectation that was not met. So he, like so many others have done, rather than reform his bad theology may abandon faith in God completely. That’s what bad theology does to people again and again.

There are other ways in which the notion that we’ll get whatever we ask God for is bad theology too. That theology says that all you have to do to get whatever you want is to ask God for it. Whether or not you get that thing comes to be up to God not to you beyond the fact that you asked for it. This bad theology can and indeed must produce a lack of motivation, energy, and action by the person making the request. Say a woman wants a better job. So she prays to God for a better job. Now, if she had the initiative and energy to engage in the difficult work of actually finding a better job she might very well find one. But she reasons: 1. I want a better job. 2. I have asked God for a better job. 3. God will give me anything I ask for. After all, the Bible says “Ask, and you will receive.” 4. Therefore I don’t have to prepare an effective resume, or go to interview after interview, or scrounge for leads that might help me find a better job. No, all I have to do is sit and wait for my better job to fall from heaven into my lap. So she does none of the things that constitute an effective job search. She does nothing other perhaps than to repeat her prayer for a better job, and the better job never comes. This woman’s bad theology has defeated her desire for that better job and pretty much ordained that she’ll never get it.

Here’s another way that the idea that all you have to do to get whatever you want is to ask God for it is bad theology. It amounts to a belief that we can manipulate God. We can get God to do what we want not what God wants. We think we can get God to do something by praying for it that God would not otherwise do. Yet of course God knows what we want probably even before we’ve figured it out ourselves. God is God. We’re not. God does not need us to tell God what to do. The theology of the book of Deuteronomy teaches that we can manipulate God in a similar way. It says obey all of God’s laws, and God will see that you prosper in this life. Disobey them, and God will see that you suffer in this life. So to prosper in this life all you have to do is manipulate God into doing what you want by your actions and thoughts that comply with what you think God’s laws are. That was bad theology when Deuteronomy was written in the late seventh century BCE. It’s bad theology today to believe that you can manipulate God in a similar way through prayer.

Second: The passage from Luke from which our hypothetical people draw their bad theology doesn’t actually say what they think it says. To understand what this text does and doesn’t say let’s start by looking at the examples Jesus gives of how human parents respond to requests from their children. He says who among you would give a child who asks for a fish a snake? Who among you would give a child who asks for an egg a scorpion? These examples are less about a parent giving a child what the child asked for than they are about a parent not giving the child something harmful instead of the beneficial thing the child asked for. The examples don’t say the parent necessarily gives the child the fish or the egg. The conclusion we should draw is not that God will give us whatever we ask for but at most that when we ask for something good God will not give us something harmful.

Even more significantly, you get the bad theology we’re talking about here only if you ignore the way the passage ends. Yes, it has the famous lines that most of know in rather archaic language: “Ask and ye shall receive” and “seek and ye shall find.” It has the line that says if you need a door opened knock, and God will open the door for you. It says those things, but it doesn’t end with them. Here’s a reminder of how it ends. After those examples about parents and children Jesus says, “How much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!” Jesus doesn’t say “How much more will the heavenly Father give you whatever you ask for.” No, what God gives us in answer to our prayers isn’t necessarily what we have asked for at all. It is the Holy Spirit. That’s the response God will always give to our prayer requests. God says in effect, “Thanks for calling. Here, have the Holy Spirit!”

I imagine that many people find the gift of the Holy Spirit to be an utterly unacceptable response to a prayer that has asked for something else. In my hypothetical example above of the man with a terminally ill wife, he doesn’t pray for the Holy Spirit. He prays that his wife recover from her cancer. In my hypothetical example of the woman who wants a better job, she doesn’t pray for the Holy Spirit either. She prays for a better job. Because our two people are expecting and looking for something else, they may well not even accept the Holy Spirit that God offers them.

A great many people don’t like it that God’s answer to prayer may be the gift of the Holy Spirit rather than what they had asked God for, but stop and think about that for a minute. God giving us the Holy Spirit is absolutely the best thing God could ever do for us. What after all is the Holy Spirit? It is God Godself present with us in the world. Having God present with in the world is the best thing that could ever happen for us. Why? Because having God with us in the world gives us whatever we need to get through whatever we face in life. With God we find consolation in the face of death, the patience to endure what we must endure, the courage to do what we must do, and hope in a seemingly hopeless world. Yes, it would be nice if God found us that better job or kept our loved one from dying. That however is a merely human way of looking at prayer. It is not God’s way. God works not by changing things on earth but by standing in unshakable solidarity with us in whatever happens on earth. That’s how God answers prayer.

So ask God for anything, and God will give you the Holy Spirit. Seek whatever you need, and God will give you the Holy Spirit. Knock on any door you need opened, and God will give you the Holy Spirit. You would have it otherwise? All I can say to you is stop thinking like a limited mortal and strive to comprehend the transcendent ways of God. We’ll never fully comprehend them of course. God after all is limitless, and we aren’t. We learn as much as we are capable of knowing about God from Jesus Christ. In our passage from Luke Jesus tells us how God handles prayer. Ask God for anything you need or want. God will give you the Holy Spirit. It’s easy to block the Holy Spirit of course. We do it all the time. But if you will open yourself to what God offers you, you will find a reward beyond measure. May it be so.

 

Sunday, October 24, 2021

On the Love of God

 

On the Love of God

October 24, 2021

 

The Scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

 

A great many Christians in our country today love the Ten Commandments, or at least they profess loudly that they do. Whether or not they live by them may be another matter, but conservative Christians (that term is an oxymoron, but never mind for now) are forever telling us that the Ten Commandments express Christian morality, never mind that they were originally Jewish not Christian. People want to display them on public property like courthouses, never mind that doing do would be obviously unconstitutional. I don’t mean to dismiss the Ten Commandments altogether, though they are actually a lot more complex and problematic than most people think they are. They do contain some basic moral rules—don’t murder, don’t steal, don’t covet, and so on.

Here’s the thing though. We Christians have a commandment that isn’t in the Ten Commandments at all. We call it “the Great Commandment.” One version of it or another appears in all three synoptic Gospels—Matthew, Mark, and Luke. It’s not in the Ten Commandments, and the Ten Commandments aren’t in it, at least not expressly. Here it is in the oldest version of it we have, the one in Mark. When a scribe asks Jesus which commandment if “first of all” Jesus answers:

 

The first is this, ‘Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one; you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.’ The second is this, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these. Mark 12:29-31.

 

We see that when asked which commandment is first Jesus quotes Hebrew scripture. The “love the Lord your God” part is from Deuteronomy 6:4-6 The “love your neighbor as yourself” part is from Leviticus 19:18. To answer the scribe’s question Jesus did not raise the Ten Commandments. He raised the great “Shema,” “Hear, O Israel,” that is the creedal statement of Judaism. He also quoted a much more obscure commandment from the priestly book of Leviticus, raising it to equal dignity with the Shema. You’d think that would be enough to get Christians away from the Ten Commandments, but for a great many of them it isn’t. It is however enough to get me away from the Ten Commandments. The Ten Commandments aren’t the most foundational statement of Christian ethics. The Great Commandment is. Here I want to consider what the “Love your God” part of the Great Commandment actually means.

The Great Commandment is of course about love. People often say it is about two loves, love and God and love of neighbor; but it’s actually about three loves, love of God, neighbor, and self. It says more about love of God than it does about the other two loves. It says we are to “love” God with “all” of our heart, soul, mind, and strength. To understand this Commandment I’m tempted to start with the meaning of love, but love doesn’t stand by itself here. It is with “with,” and it occurs to me that loving God with each of the four parts of our being that the Shema and Jesus mention means something different for each of them. So I’ll look at all four of them separately in the order in which they appear in Mark.

 

Loving God With All Your Heart. Now, a heart of course is a bodily organ, and surely both Jesus and the authors of the Shema and the Gospel of Mark knew that it is. Yet heart has often been used as a metaphor in many different cultures. It is used as a metaphor for a particular kind of love—romantic love, emotional love, the kind of love we mean when we “fall in love.” What would it mean for us to love God that way, if not romantically then at least emotionally? I think it means that we should know God’s presence with us and rejoice when we discover it. Talk to God. Listen to God. Laugh with God. Cry with God. Turn to God as one you trust unconditionally because you know that God will never fail you. Loving God with all your heart means sharing everything you feel, all your joys and all your sorrows, all your successes and all your failures, all your courage and all your fear with God as an always reliable friend and counsellor. It means relate to God as your best friend, and celebrate that you have such an eternally reliable friend as God.

 

Loving God With All Your Soul. I believe that to love God with all your soul means you turn your soul over to God and God’s grace and stop worrying about its eternal fate. You recognize that your soul longs for connection with God, so you are intentional about seeking—becoming aware of actually—that connection. You do that by finding one or more spiritual practices that bring God’s unfailing presence with you to your awareness. Every spiritual practice is, I think, a form of prayer. It can be talking to God, but sometimes it’s more powerful to sit in silence and listen for what God is saying to you. Whatever spiritual practice you adopt you must do it consistently. Keep at it. The spiritual benefits of spiritual practices don’t usually come as soon as you begin the practice. You don’t have to stick with a spiritual practice that clearly isn’t working for you, but if you keep at most spiritual practices over time you will come to know those spiritual benefits.

 

Loving God With All Your Mind. This one really hits home for me. My return to the Christian faith decades ago after many years away from it began when I experienced the coldness and harsh reality of a militantly atheistic state when I spent an academic year in the USSR doing dissertation research. It began to pick up speed, however, when I developed an interest in good Christian theology. One day quite by accident—or perhaps quite by God’s providence—I bought a used copy of Paul Tillich’s little book Dynamics of Faith. Reading it changed my life. I learned that one need not, indeed must not, accept all of the biblical literalism, end times nonsense, and Victorian social conservatism that the religious right spews all over the media in this country. I learned that symbol and myth necessarily are the language of faith, with myth understood properly as a story that connects us with God and God with us, not as something people think is true that isn’t true, it’s most common definition these days. There’s a straight line in my life from that little book to ordained Christian ministry and writing a good deal of theology myself.

That journey began with head work, and head work has remained a foundational part of my faith ever since. It is powerfully true that the heart cannot love what the mind cannot accept. Eventually I enrolled in the Master of Divinity program of the School of Theology and Ministry at Seattle University (now sadly being shut down as so many seminaries are). All through my 3+ years there I was told over and over again by many different people, “Get out of your head!” When I did my ordination interview in the United Church of Christ I was asked, “We know you’ve got the head stuff. Where’s the heart stuff?” The genuinely good people who said those things to me had a point. I am a 5 on the Enneagram scale, the thinker. I became convinced, however, that my teachers at Seattle University and many of my colleagues in the United Church of Christ do not sufficiently value the life of the mind as an entry point into the Christian faith. Yet the mind can be precisely that. It was that for me. To love God with all your mind is to apply your mind to understanding and being able to defend the great mysteries and teachings of the faith. Faith is a commitment of the whole person, and the whole person includes the mind. I think I still love God with my mind more than I do in any other way. Jesus knew that faith includes the workings of the mind. More people should recognize that thinking the faith is a valid way of loving God.

 

Loving God With All Your Strength: For me this is the most obscure of the four ways Mark’s Jesus names of loving God. What does strength mean here? I can think of a couple of things it can mean. It means that loving God and living a life of faith isn’t always easy. You have to commit your whole self to it. You have to withstand the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. To love God with all your strength means that the commitment you make to God cannot be easily assumed and just as easily discarded. To love God truly you must so with spiritual strength.

Strength is however also a physical quality. When we call a man strong we may mean that he is emotionally strong, but more likely we mean that he is physically strong. The true commitment of faith is a commitment of the body as well as a commitment of the heart, soul, and mind. While we are physically able there is much we can do with our bodies to express and develop our love of God. Former president Jimmy Carter is 97 years old, and he still builds houses for people through Habitat for Humanity. That’s loving God with his body. To love God with your body means to get up, move, reach out, and get to the work of ministry in the world and to do it with all your strength.

 

We see that the love of God to which the Great Commandment calls us is neither easy nor superficial. It is actually quite complex, and it can be very difficult. It requires a strong commitment not a weak one. It requires persistence not merely occasional attention. Going to church on Sunday certainly can and should be part of that commitment, but praying on Sunday and oppressing your employees or despoiling the earth on Monday is really no kind of faith at all. The love of God requires follow through, and follow through can be a lot harder to do than is speaking pleasant words in church on Sunday.

And here’s another truth about the love to God to which the Great Commandment calls us. None of us will ever do it perfectly. We are, after all, not Jesus Christ. We will all fail at it to a greater or lesser degree. That’s where God’s grace comes in. God knows we aren’t perfect and never do much of anything of real value perfectly. The great good news is that God has already forgiven our shortcomings and our failures. That’s what grace is. We don’t love God to earn grace, we love God in response to grace. So yes, God and Jesus Christ call us to love God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength. We must all respond to that call as best we can. As we do we can rest secure in the knowledge that God accepts whatever we do and has already forgiven us for what we fail to do. Thanks be to God!

Friday, October 22, 2021

Liberating the Bible, Vol. 1, is available

 Volume One, Approaching the Bible, of my three part series titles Liberating the Bible, A Pastor's Guided Tour for Seeking Christians, is now available in both electronic and paperback versions from amazon.com.

Volume Two, The Old Testament, and Volume Three, The New Testament, will be available in coming days.

Wednesday, October 20, 2021

Blind not Deaf

 

Blind not Deaf

October 20, 2021

 

The Scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

 

There are several stories in the Gospels of the New Testament about Jesus giving sight to people who are blind. One of them is the story of blind Bartimaeus. You’ll find it at Mark 10:46-52. In that story Jesus is on his fateful trip to Jerusalem. He comes to the ancient city of Jericho. As he with his disciples and “a large crowd” were leaving that city, I suppose headed for the notorious Jericho to Jerusalem road that is the setting for the parable of the Good Samaritan, a blind beggar named Bartimaeus is sitting by the roadside. When he hears that Jesus is passing by he cried out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” People in the crowd tell him to be quiet, though we aren’t told why they said that to him. Bartimaeus nonetheless keeps crying out “Son of David, have mercy on me!” Jesus, apparently having heard him, says, “Call him here.” Then we read that “they,” presumably the people in the crowd, say to Bartimaeus, “Take heart; get up, he is calling you.” So Bartimaeus “sprang up and came to Jesus.” Jesus asks Bartimaeus what he wants him to do for him. Bartimaeus says, “My teacher, let me see again.” Jesus replies, “Go; your faith has made you well.” Immediately Bartimaeus was able to see, then we’re told he followed Jesus, “on the way.”

As I was discussing this story recently with some clergy colleagues recently I saw in it a surprising number of topics worth considering. I think so far I’ve come up with eight of them. I won’t burden you by listing them all here, though some if not all of them will probably appear here later as blog posts. The one I want to discuss now comes from what seems an odd detail in the story. Bartimaeus is blind not deaf. He hears and speaks just fine, he just can’t see. When he cries out to Jesus for mercy Jesus calls him to come to him. The odd detail here is that though Bartimaeus is not deaf he apparently doesn’t hear Jesus calling him. We’re told rather that “they” tell him to “take heart” and go to Jesus, for Jesus is calling him. People in the crowd heard Jesus. Bartimaeus didn’t. Why does this story have people in the crowd hear Jesus calling Bartimaeus to come to him but Bartimaeus doesn’t? Is there a lesson for us in that detail? Of course I think there is otherwise I would be writing about it here.

Bartimaeus of course has a serious disability. He is blind, but his hearing works normally. Yet he doesn’t hear Jesus calling him when other people do. Those people tell Bartimaeus that Jesus is calling him. Bartimaeus comes to know that Jesus was calling him only when others who heard Jesus calling told him Jesus was calling. On his own Bartimaeus didn’t hear Jesus’ call to him. Only through others did he learn of that call.

That’s how it is with most all of us. In church communities it sometimes happens that someone or some people discern that another member of the community has a call from God, but that person hasn’t heard the call themselves. She begins to discern a call from God only when others in her congregation tell her that they have heard God calling her or at least believe that they have. God of course calls people to a great many things including a great many different kinds of work. God calls some people to be teachers. God calls others to be doctors or nurses. God may even call some people to work most of us hardly think of as divine, work like being a lawyer for example (although I am sure my becoming a lawyer so many years ago absolutely was not because God was calling me to that profession). I’ll use as my example here God calling a member of a congregation to ordained ministry in the church, an experience I and most of my clergy colleagues have had ourselves.

Sometimes a person will discern a call to ordained ministry on their own. I believe that I discerned my call to ordained at least initially on my own though it was later confirmed in community. Sometimes however a person God is calling to ordained ministry does not hear God’s call on their own. Say a member of a church is a middle-aged woman of deep faith. She has been very active in her church. She has taught Sunday School. She has served as liturgist for worship services. She has even preached once or twice when the church’s pastor was away. She has served on and chaired most of the church’s committees. She has been there for people in times of emotional distress. She makes a generous financial pledge to the church every year. The people of the church love her not so much because of the work she has done in the church but because she is simply a kind, friendly, loving, caring, intelligent person.

Some of the people of the church start to think: You know, she would make a terrific church pastor. Some of those people talk among themselves, and they all agree that it would be a great loss for the church if she did not become an ordained pastor. They discern not only that they think she should become a pastor but that God thinks so too and is calling her to ordained ministry. So the talk to her. They tell her that they believe that she should go to seminary and do the other things their denomination requires of a candidate for ordination. They tell her that they have heard God calling her to professional ministry in the church. At first she laughs them off. No, she says, God would never call me of all people to ordained ministry. (She’s a modest person too.) Besides, she says, I’m too old (she was in her late 40s or early 50s), and I can’t afford to start my life over like that. So no, she says. God can’t possibly be calling me to ordained ministry. You folks have just got that one wrong.

Her friends don’t give up. They tell her so often that they are sure God is calling her to ordained ministry that she starts to think about it a bit more. She talks to her spiritual director and her family about the matter. Finally she goes to her pastor (the pastor is often the last person in the church to know what’s been going on). She tells him what her friends have been saying and everything she’s done to consider the possibility herself. She still isn’t sure God is calling her, and she isn’t sure that if God were calling her to ordained ministry she’d have the courage, the confidence, and the resources to accept that call. Her pastor says: I’ve been waiting for you to come to talk to me about this question (the pastor often being the last person church people want to talk to even though that’s why the pastor is there). Your friends have told me what they think, but the decision has to yours not theirs and not mine. He says he has seen the potential pastor in her for a long time, but he didn’t want to press her to make a decision before she was ready. He prays with her, asking God for guidance and grace as she struggles with the question. Eventually she hears God calling her herself, enrolls in seminary, does all of the necessary work and bears the considerable expense of a seminary education, does the other things her denomination requires for ordination, receives a call, and is ordained to the ministry of Jesus Christ in her denomination. Her ministry becomes a blessing both for the church and for her.

Now, that hypothetical situation is of course idealized. Few people have done as much in and for the church as my hypothetical woman has, though thank God there are some who have. Few people wrestling with the question of a call do as much discernment work around the question as I have her doing. Not all pastors wait for someone in whom they see the possibility of ordained ministry to come to them. Some pastors are just more pushy than that.

Yet as idealized as it is, my hypothetical scenario really isn’t all that different from the experience many people called to ordained ministry have had. Few of them are deaf like Bartimaeus, though some of them are. But most of us in ordained ministry were deaf to God’s call at first. Some of us were deaf for a short period of time, others perhaps for years or even decades. And all of us eventually had our call confirmed in the community of the church. Most of us have resisted the call. At my first orientation meeting at seminary it became almost a joke among us that we could all say God called and I hung up. Community was an indispensable part of all of our journeys to ordained ministry.

Bartimaeus was blind not deaf, but he heard Jesus’ call to him not directly from Jesus but from the people gathered around him. God’s call to people, whatever that call may be, is usually so soft and subtle that it is easy to miss. It is not uncommon for the people around one God is calling to hear the call before that person does. So if your friends are telling you that God is calling you to something, listen to them. Then do your own discernment. If you think God is calling you to something take your thought to a faith community and get its help with your discernment. Bartimaeus needed to hear from the crowd around him before he could hear Jesus call him. It’s usually that way for the rest of us too.

On Going to Jerusalem

 

On Going to Jerusalem

October 20, 2021

 

The Scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

 

That Jesus’ earthly life ended in Jerusalem is as well established as any other fact about him. The Gospel of John differs from the other three in that it has Jesus go to Jerusalem more than once in the course of his ministry. In the others he only goes once, or at least he only goes once if you don’t consider Luke’s story about him going there at the age of twelve to be about Jesus as an adult or you disregard it altogether as unhistorical and essentially meaningless like I do. In the Gospel of Luke he was in Jerusalem as an infant, but that detail really doesn’t matter for my purposes here. The turning point in the Gospel of Mark, the oldest of the canonical gospels, comes when he begins his fateful journey to Jerusalem. See Mark 10:32. In all four Gospels Jesus’ earthly life ends in Jerusalem when the Romans (not the Jews) crucified him as a political troublemaker. For the sake of simplicity I will consider Jesus’ fateful final journey to Jerusalem to be his only one.

Of course Jesus wasn’t from Jerusalem or anywhere else in Judea. He was from Nazareth in Galilee, at least a three day’s walk north of Jerusalem. (The Microsoft maps app says Nazareth is about 90 miles from Jerusalem.) He began his ministry there, and in all four Gospels (even in John) he conducted most of his ministry there. He didn’t have to go to Jerusalem. He could have stayed in Galilee and probably died a natural death. Surely he knew that Jerusalem was a much more dangerous place for him to be than Galilee was. It was the largest Jewish city by far. There had been anti-Roman uprisings there before, so the Romans were especially sensitive to anyone stirring up the people there. Especially at Passover, which is when Jesus went there, the Romans strengthened their presence in the city by bringing in more troops. At that time the Governor Pontius Pilate, who most of the time was in Caesarea Maritima, a Roman city over on the coast, came to Jerusalem so he could more directly control the troops and thus control the crowds. The Romans were always on the lookout for trouble in Jerusalem, especially at Passover, a fact that made Jesus’ going there at that time even more dangerous.

Mark has Jesus predict three times that he would be killed in Jerusalem. Whether the historical person Jesus of Nazareth actually knew what would happen to him there we don’t know, but he must have known the he assumed a terrible risk when he went there. Yet he went. As the Gospels tell the story he spent the last week of his earthly life there and was indeed executed on a cross as a threat to public order. Why? Why did Jesus go to Jerusalem when as far as we can see he didn’t have to? The answer to that question tells us a lot about Jesus and what one of the major facets of his ministry was all about.

To understand why Jesus went to Jerusalem we have to understand just what that city was in the life of the Jewish people of Jesus’ time. It was the economic center of the region, but its place in the life of the Jewish faithful was more important than that. Jerusalem was the seat of Judaism’s religious authorities. It’s where the temple was, the only temple the Jews of Jesus’ time recognized as authentic. At the temple were the clergy of the faith, most importantly for our purposes the priests and the scribes. They controlled the faith life of first century CE Jews in both Judea and Galilee. The heart of the organized, institutionalized structure of first century Judaism was there. The Jewish institutions of Jerusalem decided all questions in the Jewish faith. If one were going to bring about any fundamental transformation of first century Judaism they had to do it in Jerusalem.

OK, so Jesus went to Jerusalem, the place where the central institutions of his faith were located. But why did that matter to him? He had followers in Galilee. He could have stayed there with them, which would have been a much safer thing for him to do. He had to have had some powerfully compelling reason to leave his home and the place of his ministry and go to Jerusalem, and indeed he did. Jesus went to Jerusalem because he was so convinced that the people of those central institutions of the faith were getting that faith all wrong. He went there to disclose their error and to proclaim what he knew his Jewish faith was truly about.

In Jerusalem Jesus did not less than overthrow the governing institutions and people of the Jewish faith at the time. He didn’t do it physically, he did it symbolically. He did it not as a violent revolutionary but as a prophet in the tradition of the great Hebrew prophets of the eighth century BCE Isaiah, Amos, and Micah. We see him doing precisely that in two powerful stories from the Gospel of Mark, the oldest of the canonical Gospels. They are his prediction of the destruction of the temple and his prophetic act of overturning the tables of the moneychangers and disrupting the selling of animals there. I’ll take a look at both of those stories here to explain what I mean.

The story of Jesus’ prediction of the destruction of the temple is found at Mark 12:38-13:2. The fact that our numbering system puts a chapter break just before the end of the story has no significance. That break wasn’t in the original and many later texts of Mark. The story has three parts. The first and the last of them frame the middle one. That structure tells us that all three parts belong together and that to understand the story we must consider all three of them.

In the first part of the story we read that Jesus is teaching in the temple. He said:

 

Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes, and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets! They devour widows’ houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers. They will receive the greater condemnation. Mark 12:38-40.

 

The “scribes” Jesus mentions here were temple officials whose primary job was writing out copies of the Jewish scriptures especially the Torah. Together with the priests they constituted recognized authorities on the meaning of the Jewish scriptures and what those scriptures meant for the Jewish life of faith. The most important thing for our purposes that Jesus says about them here is that they “devour widows’ houses.” By “houses” he doesn’t mean just the places where widows lived. He means that the scribes (and by implication the priests) took everything widows’ owned.

The second part of this account is the famous story of the “widow’s mite.” In this part of the story Jesus observes people putting money into what the text calls the temple’s “treasury.” That’s probably a sort of collection box where people put the money they were giving to the temple. We’re told that many rich people put in large amounts of money. Then we read:

 

A poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which are worth a penny. Then he [Jesus] called his disciples and said to them, ‘Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. For all of them have contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.’ Mark 12:41-44.

 

Here’s the important point to take from this part of story. No matter how many stewardship sermons you may have heard based on “the widows’ mite,” this story is not about generous giving to the church. The widow in this story is not being generous. We must take the text seriously when it says she put in everything she had, all she had to live on. She was poor, and now she is completely without any resources at all. Given the circumstances of the time, unless she could get some money by begging or prostitution she would starve to death. She isn’t being generous, she is attempting to pay what part she could of the temple tax the temple authorities said every Jew was to pay. She’s been told all her life that she would be a sinner if she didn’t pay that tax. She has come to the end of her resources, so in what was certainly a desperate attempt to get right with God before she died she gives the temple everything she had left. The temple has indeed devoured her house.

The third part of the story is Jesus’ prediction of the destruction of the Jerusalem temple. We read:

 

As he came out of the temple, one of his disciples said to him, ‘Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings! Then Jesus asked him, ‘Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone here will be left upon another; all will be thrown down. Mark 13:1-2.

 

We see that this three part structure goes like this:

 

1.       Jesus says the temple authorities “devour widows’ houses,” that is they take everything a poor widow (there was hardly any other kind) has.

2.       A poor widow comes and puts in the temple’s collection box all she has, all she had to live on. The temple has devoured her “house.”

3.       The temple, the house of the officials who devour widows’ houses, will itself be destroyed.

 

There will be consequences of what the temple and its officials have done to this poor widow and certainly countless others like her. The “house” of those officials, the Jerusalem temple, the symbol of Jewish faith and the power of the priests and the scribes, will be destroyed. Those religious officials who abuse their power in order to glorify themselves and oppress the poor will have done to them what they have been doing to others, especially to the poor. To Jesus the temple and its officials were so corrupt that they had no more right to exist. Overthrow the whole thing, he said. Tear it all down, he said. God will tear it all down because of the way the temple’s clergy oppressed the poor for their own benefit. Jesus telling his disciple that it would all be torn down is him making a prophetic statement about the wrongs of the temple and about what people of faith really ought to be about.

Next we consider the famous story usually (and grossly wrongly) called “the cleansing of the temple.” A version of this story appears in all four Gospels, though John sets it early Jesus’ ministry rather than at the end of it the way the other three Gospels do. Mark’s version is the oldest. You’ll find it at Mark 11:11-19. We read that the first thing Jesus did after he entered Jerusalem was go to the temple. The text says:

 

Then they came to Jerusalem. And he entered the temple and began to drive out those who were selling and those who were buying in the temple, and he overturned the tables of the money changers and the seats of those who sold doves; he would not allow anyone to carry anything through the temple. Mark 11:15-16.

 

It is true that Mark’s text has Jesus explain his actions by saying: “Is it not written: ‘My house shall be called a house of prayer for all the nations? But you have made it a den of robbers.” Mark 11:17. Yet this story surely has a much deeper meaning than that those doing business in the temple were ripping off their customers. What might that deeper meaning be?

To understand what this story is really about we must understand that Jesus was not “cleansing” the temple. Who were the people he drove out of it? They were money changers and sellers of doves. But why were there money changers in the temple at all? And why were people selling doves there? They were there because what they did was necessary for the temple to function the way it was meant to function. We saw in the story of the widow’s mite that people contributed money to the temple. Roman money was the only money there was, and it was all coins not paper. The coins usually had the image of the Roman emperor on them. Some of them had the words “Divii Filius,” which means son of the Divine One. To the Jewish way of thinking those coins were impure. They were defiled. They were idolatrous. The temple could not accept them. So the money changers were there so that the people could exchange their unacceptable Roman money for special money that the temple could accept. The temple could not function without them. It did not need to be “cleansed” of them. They weren’t defiling it, they were enabling it to function the way it was supposed to function.

The same is true of the sellers of doves in the temple. The worship in the Jerusalem temple consisted mostly of animal sacrifice, which the Torah law specified must be done under certain specific circumstances. Forgiveness of sin was one of those circumstances, but there were others as well. People offered animals which the priests sacrificed, that is, killed as an offering to God. The temple was in effect a giant slaughterhouse. But people couldn’t bring any old animal to be sacrificed. We read a condemnation of the offering of imperfect animals in the book of Malachi:

 

O priests, who despise my [Yahweh’s] name. You say, ‘How have we despised your name?’ By offering polluted food on my altar. And you say, ‘How have we polluted it?’ By thinking that the Lord’s table may be despised. When you offer blind animals in sacrifice, is that not wrong? And when you offer those that are lame or sick, is that not wrong? Malachi 1:6c-8a.

 

The temple clergy taught that only healthy, whole animals could be sacrificed. The only way the people could be sure the animals they offered for sacrifice were animals the priests would accept was to buy them from specialized sellers at the temple. So there were people in the outer courtyard of the temple selling ritually adequate animals to be sacrificed. They weren’t desecrating the place. The temple didn’t need to be “cleansed” of them. Like the money changers they were essential to the temple’s proper functioning. So Jesus’ prophetic act in the temple wasn’t to “cleanse” it. It was symbolically to overthrow it.

That, I think, is why Jesus went to Jerusalem. He knew that all that animal sacrifice wasn’t what God wanted. He knew that the people didn’t need priests acting as intermediaries between them and God. He knew that oppression and exploitation of the poor wasn’t what God wanted. He knew that at least the organized, institutionalized expression of the great Jewish faith needed radical transformation if it were to become more faithful to the God it claimed to serve than it was. He could not make a truly profound expression of what he knew to be true out in the hinterlands of Galilee. He could not perform a truly prophetic act to demonstrate the truth he knew there. He could do those things only in Jerusalem. That’s where the beating heart of Judaism was. Jesus knew his mission and ministry had to lead him there if he were to complete it, so he went. There he preached, he taught, he demonstrated, he suffered, he died, and he rose again. He would not have fulfilled his life’s mission had he not gone, so he went.

Now, I have long insisted that the Bible stories, the great ones at least, are not just about what happened to other people a long time ago in a place far away. These ancient stories arose in times very different from ours, but they retain their power because they are also about us. I mean by that that we can find meaning in them for ourselves and for our world. If we couldn’t these stories would have faded into historical obscurity and be of interest only to those odd creatures called historians ( and I confess to being one of those myself). The story of Jesus going to Jerusalem tells us not to accept uncritically what so-called religious authorities tell you about your faith. Do your own informed discernment. That’s an important issue for all of us.

I, however, am more concerned with a different question that arises for me as I read of Jesus going to Jerusalem and what he did there. See, I am Christian clergy. I’m retired now, but I’m still an ordained Christian minister. When I read this story I put myself not in Jesus’ place in it (something it’s always inappropriate to do in any case), and not even in the disciples’ place in it. I put myself in the place of the Jewish clergy, the priests and the scribes of the Jerusalem temple. They represented the religious power structure of their day. I’m ordained in the United Church of Christ, a small and mostly very liberal Christian denomination with really no power in the world other than the word. Still, I’m ordained and have served in a religious institution. This story causes me to ask: What would Jesus say the religious institutions of today are getting wrong like the temple authorities of his day got wrong? That is of course an extremely broad question. There are after all more religious institutions in the world today than I can even begin to know of much less offer informed critique of, and they’re getting all sorts of things wrong. Here I will limit my remarks to the type of religious institution with which I am most familiar, the Protestant Christian denominations, including my own United Church of Christ, that we used to call mainline. I’ll treat them collectively, for they all share a lot of faults in common.

Mainline Protestant Christianity has been in decline in the United States for a very long time. All sorts of polling and analysis have been done to try to figure out why, but for now ignore all that polling and analysis. The question before us here is: What would Jesus say mainline Protestant Christian institutions are getting wrong? I have nowhere near enough hubris to claim to speak for Jesus. Still, there is one major critique against those institutions that I am bold enough to believe Jesus would share with us. Here it is.

You have not been telling the people the truth! You have let fear of losing members and their money keep you from telling the people the truths your ordained people, or at least most of them, learned in seminary. You have instead played to the people’s preexisting beliefs and prejudices. You have not shared with them understandings of faith generally and Christianity in particular that would be new and probably challenging for them. You have not adequately challenged conservative Christian evangelicalism with its narrowly conservative ethics and biblical literalism. You have let that bastardized version of the faith become the dominant, most visible face of Christianity in your country. Because you have done and not done these things Christianity has become and is becoming more and more irrelevant and unacceptable to most of the people in your context.

Here in no particular order of importance are a few of the things that are central to true Christianity that you have not adequately shared with your people:

 

·       God is transcendent mystery. You humans can never fully comprehend who or what God is. Your call is to live in and with that divine mystery not to solve it.

·       Truth consists of more than facts. Mythic and symbolic truth is far deeper and more powerful than mere factual truth.

·       God’s grace is universal and totally unconditional. God has already extended it to everyone not because of who they are but because of who God is.

·       Jesus was hardly at all about what you have to do to get your soul to heaven after you die.

·       You don’t have to do anything to get your soul to heaven after you die. You certainly don’t have to have believed any particular thing to get your soul to heaven after you die.

·       There is no such thing as hell.

·       Thoughts and beliefs do matter, but they matter mostly because they lead to actions. Proper thoughts and beliefs lead to proper actions, improper thoughts and beliefs lead to improper actions.

·       Faith without works is useless for everyone except perhaps for the spiritual needs of the person holding the faith.

·       Jesus was a radical, nonviolent revolutionary who sought to turn every conventional belief, custom, and institution in his world upside down. He calls us to do the same in our world.

·       Because God’s grace is universal and unconditional, and because of the conditions of human existence, there is no one way to God. Christian exclusivism is an abomination.

·       God is nonviolent. Period.

·       God calls all people away from violence and toward creative, assertive, nonviolent resistance to evil. That after all is what Jesus did.

·       God is love, and God’s love so far exceeds any human conception of love that you can never truly understand it. You don’t understand it, you stand under it.

·       God calls all people to lives of love, acceptance, and inclusivity not to hate condemnation and exclusion.

·       No human institution, including especially the church, has ever been, is, or ever will be perfect. They all need constant renewal and reformation.

·       God is neither a Puritan nor a Victorian. Victorian sexual ethics are not from God.

·       Sex, like everything else, must be grounded in love not in rules.

·       The Bible is a human product. God didn’t write it. God loved the people who wrote it but gave them no special revelation about what they were to write. They wrote of their experience of God not something that came directly from God.

·       Because it is human not divine the Bible is full of contradictions and falsehoods as well as full of truth and wisdom. Use love as your guide to what to take and what to reject from it.

·       Symbol and myth are the language of faith. Read the Bible stories for their mythic meaning (if a particular story has any—not all of them do). Don’t get hung up on mere facts.

·       Most of all, God loves you. Period. God loves everyone. Period.

·       God calls everyone to love God, all people, and themselves. Whatever expresses love is true. Whatever contradicts it is false.

 

You have had all of these truths available to you for a very long time. You’ve sat on them. You haven’t asserted them nearly strongly enough either to your church people or to the world. You haven’t gone to Jerusalem the way Jesus did. You haven’t challenged conventional human truth, you’ve surrendered to it. Knock it off! Go to Jerusalem! Turn your world upside down in the name of love! Don’t delay, do it now! It may yet not be too late.