Wednesday, April 15, 2020

On Our New Reality


On Our New Reality

We’ve all be hit by the coronavirus pandemic. No one is unaffected by it, at least not in the states whose governors understand what’s happening and how we need to deal with it. Some states with Republican governors, like South Dakota and Nebraska, are pretending that nothing’s going on and that they don’t have to do anything to deal with it. We know they’re wrong, and we know that citizens of their states will die because of their stupidity, but that’s not what I want to talk about here. Most Americans have been affected because the governors of the states with most of our population have acted responsibly and shut everything down. For us life has taken a radical new course. With significant exceptions even in states like my own Washington state where our governor has responded very well, most people are holed up, self-isolating. Most of us have stopped the activities that used to be our norm. Our lives have changed in significant ways. We’re isolated. We don’t go anywhere unless we absolutely have to. We don’t see anyone other than the people we live with, not in person anyway. We don’t go to school. The schools are all closed. We don’t go to church except online or by phone. We don’t go to sporting events. They’re all canceled. We don’t go to movies or plays. The theaters are all closed. We have far more alone time than we used to, or at least most of us do. I haven’t been out of the house except for short walks and a vey rare car ride in something like six weeks or more. My life is nothing like what it used to be. Most of our lives are nothing like they used to be. For most of us being isolated like we are isn’t a lot of fun. It gets pretty tiresome. I guess we introverts have less trouble with it than extroverts do, but it isn’t wonderful for anyone.
So let me suggest a way in which this time can be very valuable. We have time for reflection we didn’t have before. We also have an incentive for reflection we didn’t have before. The world has changed, and we have the opportunity now to reflect on how we wish to change too. We have the opportunity to consider what really matters, what’s really important. One way to do that is to consider what we miss most from our former lives. Is it all that consumption we used to do? Is it all the vanity that used to drive us? Is it doing work that may reward us financially but otherwise leaves us empty? Or is it time with people we love? Is it a quiet walk in the woods or along a shore? Is it time spent in a community of people of faith? Is it communal worship? Is it time with friends? We can also consider what we like about our new reality. More quiet time? Time to meditate? Time to pray, or read, or engage in a craft or hobby? Time to learn something new? There are lots of ways we can use this odd new reality of ours.
Here’s what can and I hope does happen if we use this odd new reality well. We’ll learn better than we have before what really mattes to us. What’s important and what isn’t. What satisfies and what doesn’t. What fills us and what doesn’t. Maybe we’ll even find our true calling life, something far too many of us never do. If we use this time well when we “return to normal” it will be a new, different normal. We’ll do things differently. We’ll have new priorities. We’ll spend our time differently. I hope and pray that our new normal will be a better normal. More fulfilling. More life enhancing. More faithful to who we really are and who God calls us to be, those two things actually being the same thing. May it be so.

Monday, April 13, 2020

It Took a Pandemic


It Took a Pandemic
It took a pandemic. It shouldn’t have, but it did. Some of us knew before the pandemic, indeed we knew for a long time before the pandemic, that there are serious things wrong with our country. Some of us knew, but far too many of us didn’t. Now, in the midst of the pandemic, it should be obvious to everyone. Indeed it should have been obvious to everyone before the pandemic, but it wasn’t. Far too many of us think of the status quo as just fine. Far too many of us are far too used to voting Republican. Far too many of us have bought the Republican lie that government is necessarily a bad thing. Far too many of us think taxes are necessarily a bad thing. Far too many of us depend on the military and the defense industries for our livelihood. Far too many of us don’t know how racist our history has been and our culture today is. Far too many of us just don’t worry about millions of people not having health insurance. Far too many of us don’t care that we’re destroying our planet with our unchecked consumption and burning of fossil fuels. It shouldn’t have taken a pandemic for more of us to wake up, but it did. Or at least I hope and pray that as a result of this pandemic enough of us will wake up to reality that we will be able to do something at long last to transform our reality in the direction of peace and justice. If enough of us are now awake actually to accomplish something constructive the things we need to do include:

1.      Vote Donald Trump out of office next November. There hasn’t been a really good Republican president since Abraham Lincoln, but Donald Trump is both the worst president of modern times and the worse person ever to hold the office. He is a narcissistic megalomaniac. He gives not a damn about anyone but himself. He has no real personal political beliefs other than that he should be an authoritarian or even dictatorial president for life, but he pursues an agenda that benefits only the wealthy and is hellbent on destroying planet earth so already wealthy people can make even more money doing it. He lies almost every time he speaks. He simply does not operate within the categories of true and false. He says whatever comes into his head as long as he thinks it benefits him politically or financially. No sentient person can possibly support him, but his approval ratings hold steady in the mid-40% range. Far too many Americans believe that if the president says or does something it must be right even if the president is the misogynist womanizer Donald Trump. As president he wields even more power than the president should have. He can block anything constructive that anyone in the government wants to do. He fires Inspectors General, especially any who has done anything he does like such as sending the whistleblower complaint about his illegal actions in a phone call to Congress. We really can’t hope to accomplish anything good while he is in office.
2.      Create a universal single payer health insurance system. Illness and injury afflict everyone and don’t care if you have health insurance or not. The coronavirus we’re dealing with doesn’t care if you have health insurance or not, and everyone who gets sick from it needs the same level of care. We are the only supposedly advanced country in the world without universal health insurance. Shame on us. Maybe this pandemic will at long last get us to create one.
3.      Reform the tax structure. Our current federal income tax structure benefits the wealthy and big corporations at the expense of everyone else. People blame corporations like Amazon when they pay little or no income tax on enormous incomes, but that’s not the corporation’s fault. It’s the fault of the tax code. Wealthy people and big corporations hire first rate accountants and lawyers to advise them on how to avoid taxes and to claim every possible exemption, credit, or deduction on their tax returns. The solution isn’t to expect those people and corporations to pay more tax than the law requires. The solution is to change the law. The wealthy don’t pay their fair share of the cost of the government from which they benefit so immensely. Middle income taxpayers pay too much. However we do it we need to revise the tax code so that the wealthy pay more.
4.      Drastically reduce the size of the military and the defense industries that get rich off of it. We spend a higher percentage of our gross national produce on the military than any other nation. The people in charge say that’s because we have to “defend freedom” around the world. Nonsense! That’s not what the US military does. Rather, it projects and protects US political and economic power around the world. We sell massive amounts of armaments to other countries, not all of which can be said to be our friends. We have no business being the world’s policeman. Yes, reducing the amount of money we spend on the military would cause some not insignificant economic and social disruption. We’d save so much money, however, that we could easily spend some of it to alleviate that disruption. The amount of money we spend on the military is obscene. We really do need to reduce it significantly.
5.      Take meaningful steps to address climate change. The Trump administration’s record on that issue is shameful at best. The records of previous administrations on the issue are hardly stellar. We are destroying our planet. If we want humanity to survive we need to stop doing it now and hope and pray that it’s not too late.
6.      Reform the criminal law system. I won’t call it the criminal justice system because it has precious little to do with justice. We incarcerate more people than any other nation. A grossly disproportionate percentage of the people we imprison are people of color. Our systemic racism shows itself as much in criminal justice as it does anywhere. We need to stop writing laws and pursuing law enforcement policies and practices that disproportionately affect people of color.
7.      Reform our educational systems. The American system of public schools is pretty much a mess. Wealthy school districts have much better outcomes than poor ones. In many places all teachers can do is teach to some standardized test. They are evaluated by how their students do on the test rather than how well the students have actually been educated. A college education has gotten so expensive that many people who would benefit from one don’t even apply. Many others do go to college but come out with enormous student loan debts. We need to make sure every public K-12 school has sufficient resources. We need to pay teachers like the professionals they are and let them truly educate our children. We need to make college affordable and relieve the debt so many college graduates have.

There is I suppose a lot more that we need to do. We need to repair our country’s crumbling infrastructure. We need to make farming profitable enough that people will want to do it. We need to reform our wildly unfair immigration system. Maybe the health crisis of the current pandemic will wake us up to all of these needs. I doubt that it will, but a man can hope.

Saturday, April 11, 2020

A Most Intriguing Paradox


A Most Intriguing Paradox
Easter Sunday, April 12, 2020

Scripture: Matthew 28:8

I’ve always enjoyed the operettas of Gilbert and Sullivan. I guess in their time the spoofed some of the features of Victorian England. Today they’re pure fluff. They’re hardly serious. I’ve never taken the time to learn them, but I find pieces like “I am the Very Model of a Modern Major General” and “When I Was a Lad (The Ruler of the  Queen’s Navee)” to be great fun. Silly to be sure, but fun. Recently as I was reading Matthew’s account of the women at the tomb on the first Easter morning I was reminded of another silly but fun Gilbert and Sullivan song, “A Paradox, a Paradox, a Most Intriguing Paradox.” The supposed paradox in this little ditty is that a person born on February 29 could be decades old but have had only a few birthdays. Ha ha. A paradox.
There’s a much more serious and meaningful paradox in Matthew’s account of two women at Jesus tomb on the Sunday after his crucifixion. In that account Mary Magdalene and another woman identified only as “the other Mary” go to Jesus’ tomb. Matthew has all sorts of dramatic things happen there, an earthquake and an angel coming down from heaven who looks like lightning. Yikes! Pretty scary stuff. The angel tells the women that Jesus isn’t there, that he has been raised from the dead and is going to Galilee. Whereupon the women “left the tomb quickly with fear and great joy, and ran to tell the disciples.” These two women are certainly his disciples too, but never mind. They run to tell the others “with fear and great joy.”
It’s that combination of fear and great joy that struck me as I read this text recently. Aren’t fear and joy contradictory emotions? How could these women have been feeling both at the same time? I know that when I’m afraid I’m sure not feeling joy, and I know that when I’m joyful I’m not afraid. Wouldn’t that be true of these two women also? I’d sure think so. So how can Matthew say they were feeling both fear and great joy at the same time?
He can say it because he’s giving us a paradox. A paradox is when two things that can’t both be true at the same time are both true at the same time. In Gilbert and Sullivan’s paradox a character is twenty-one years old, but he’s had only five birthdays because he was born on February 29. No one can be twenty-one and five at the same time. That makes it a paradox.
Now, this Gilbert and Sullivan paradox is perfectly silly and isn’t really a paradox at all, but in the realm of faith paradoxes can express quite serious and profound truths. In fact, every profound religious truth is paradoxical, or at least in Christianity it is. Consider: God is both utterly transcendent and immediately present at the same time. It’s not possible, it’s just true. Jesus Christ is fully human and fully divine at the same time. It’s not possible, it’s just true. Humanity time and again proves itself utterly unlovable, and God loves us anyway. It’s not possible, it’s just true. That’s what a paradox is. Something that isn’t possible but is true.
So perhaps we shouldn’t be surprised that Mary Magdalene and the other Mary were both afraid and joyful at the same time when they saw the angel at the tomb and heard what that heavenly messenger had to say. They really did have reason to be both fearful and joyful. Of course they were afraid. People in the Bible are always afraid when they see an angel, but our women’s experience here must have been particularly frightening. First of all they felt an earthquake. I’ve felt earthquakes. Perhaps you have too. They’re frightening. At first you don’t know what’s happening, then you just pray it won’t kill you. Then there was an angel, but not some chubby cherub from a Hallmark greeting card. This one looks like lightning. Lightning, while it may be beautiful and look great in photographs, is pretty scary. I sure don’t want to get hit by it. So right off the bat these women had lots of reason to be afraid.
Then that scary angel told them that something absolutely impossible had happened. They knew that the Romans had crucified Jesus the previous Friday. They knew he was dead. They knew he’d been buried. That’s why they went to the tomb, to anoint his body with spices after the custom of their people. The angel told them that he wasn’t there, that he had risen from the dead and was gone, headed for Galilee.
Now, most if not all of us at least feel some apprehension when we’re confronted by something new, something unknown. I suppose these two Marys had faced unknown things in their lives before. Most of us have. I suppose they had felt apprehension or even fear before, but they certainly had never encountered anything like this. No one ever had. We’ve all known people who have died, and as much as we might want them to, none of them has ever risen from the grave. Yet a divine messenger told these two women that Jesus had done precisely that. What could it possibly mean? What would happen now? Did Jesus rise from the grave to do what he never did before he died, namely, raise an army and go to war with the Romans? Did he intend to seek revenge against the temple officials who had turned him over to Pilate with a demand that he be crucified? Or on the Romans who actually did it? If he tried any of those things what would happen? What would the Romans do? How violent would they get? Or maybe rather than any of that he’d come and make really tough demands on them. What would he expect of them and their friends now? They had no way of knowing any of those things. So of course they left the tomb with fear. That part of the paradox is easy enough to understand.
So is the great joy part. I mean, Mary Magdalene had been one of Jesus’ closest disciples, the Gospels’ efforts to disguise that fact to the contrary notwithstanding. We can assume that the other Mary had been a follower of his too. They probably thought he was the Messiah, that he had come to save Israel. But then the Romans killed him, and now some extraordinary looking figure had told them that he was alive again. What good news! What a joy! Their friend and leader wasn’t dead after all. They didn’t have to mourn him because it turned out he wasn’t dead. Halleluiah! The news of Christ’s resurrection certainly was cause for great joy.
Somehow these two faithful women felt both fear and great joy at the same time, and here’s the thing about that for us. God calls us to share the paradoxical emotions of the two Marys that first Easter morning. We experience Easter as a time of joy, and it is proper for us to do so. We sing “Christ the Lord is risen today, Alleluia!” Our Lord and Savior died to be sure, but he rose again and lives forever in the hearts and souls of his followers. We sing “where O death is now thy sting, where thy victory O grave?” In Christ’s resurrection we know that death does not have the last word, that like Jesus we live forever with God. Easter is  time of great joy to be sure.
But let’s not forget the other prong of Easter’s emotional paradox, the fear prong. Why should we feel fear at Easter? Because as I heard someone say once “Oh no! He’s back!” Why “Oh no”? Because during his life on earth Jesus made radical demands on his first followers and on us. Take up your cross and follow me. The one who would save his or her life must lose it for the sake of the Gospel. From Hebrew scripture: Love the Lord your God with your whole being and your neighbor as yourself. Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you. Yes, he also said my yoke is easy and my burden is light, but they’re easy and light only because he bears them with us. We can and should seek refuge and find comfort in Jesus, but when we really understand what he demands of us we quite appropriately feel fear as well. Living out those demands has gotten a lot of people killed. Even if doing it doesn’t get you killed it sure can get people mad at you. It presents us with profound moral dilemmas: What is the right thing to do in this particular situation? That’s not always an easy question to answer. Once I think I know what the answer is, do I have the courage to do it? That one can be even harder.
So be joyful at Easter to be sure, but don’t forget the fear side of the paradox. Jesus made great demands on his first followers. His Resurrection is among other things God’s sign and seal that Jesus really is the one we are to follow. His demands are God’s demands. So yes. Today feel great joy, but don’t forget the fear. Live in the tension between those two emotions. That is the call of Easter. That is the call of God. Amen.

Friday, April 10, 2020

A Curtain Torn in Two


A Curtain Torn in Two: The Good News of Good Friday
April 10, 2020

Scripture: Mark 15:38

“And the curtain of the temple was torn in two.” Mark 15:38. Mostly we read that line almost as a throw away. It’s there in the story of Jesus’ crucifixion. We read it on Good Friday. It comes immediately after Jesus breathes his last. Most of us probably don’t know what it means. A curtain torn in two? In the temple? The temple has a curtain? What, to cover a window? If the temple did have a curtain why should it be torn in two, and why precisely at the moment of Jesus’ death? We don’t understand it, so we glide over it and pay it no mind. The line is there, but for most of us it might as well not be.
That’s really unfortunate. Mark saying that at the moment of Jesus’ death the curtain of the temple was torn in two is one of the most important and theologically profound verses in all of scripture. The temple really did have a curtain, but it didn’t cover a window. In the innermost part of the temple there was a space called the Holy of Holies. It was the most sacred part of the temple. Jews in Jesus’ time believed that it was where God lived. It was sacred because God was most immediately present there. Only one person was permitted to enter it, the chief priest, and he entered it only once a year. This is where the curtain comes in. The Holy of Holies was separated from the rest of the temple not by a wall but by a curtain. The curtain separated the Holy of Holies, God’s dwelling place, from the people. Except for the chief priest once a year no one could approach closer to God than the outside of the curtain, which functioned as a barrier between the people and God.
Now, the curtain being torn in two at the moment of Jesus’ death is not a factual truth. Outside the Gospels there is no account of it ever having happened. That it didn’t happen as a matter of fact however matters not at all. The author of the Gospel of Mark never intended for us to understand the line as a factual matter. The power of the line lies in its symbolic meaning, a meaning which is there whether the curtain was ever actually torn in two or not.
Here’s that meaning: When Jesus died everything that separates us from God was torn apart. Mark’s tearing of the curtain is a symbolic expression of that truth. Everything that separates us from God or that we think separates us from God was wiped away. All barriers between God and us were destroyed. Upon Jesus’ death everything that separates us from God was gone. The curtain of the temple was torn in two.
That is the great good news of Good Friday. Yes, the Romans crucified Jesus. They nailed him up on crossed timbers and left him there to die. What they did to him and to so many others was brutal, terroristic even. Crucifixion was a horrible way to die, and that’s why the Romans did it. Crucifixion was Rome’s way of saying don’t you dare oppose us. Don’t you dare rebel against us. This is what will happen to you if you do, and you really don’t want this to happen to you. Crucifixion was barbaric. It was diabolical, and the Romans did it to Jesus.
Yet we Christians find the best good news ever in that horrendous act. When the Romans killed Jesus the curtain of the temple was torn in two. Everything that we think separates us from God was blown away. How? Because in the crucifixion of Jesus God in God’s own person entered into, experienced, and suffered the worst that human life can bring. In Jesus as God the Son Incarnate God did not avoid the suffering human life can bring. God took it into God’s own being. In Jesus’ death God took human death into God’s own being. God sanctified human suffering and death. God showed us in the most personal way possible that God does not abandon us when we suffer and die. God does not abandon us when we think God has forsaken us as Jesus did on the cross.
Rather God enters into whatever happens to us in life, meets us there, holds us there, loves us there. That’s why the symbolic tearing of the curtain of the temple at the moment of Jesus’ death is so important. That’s why Good Friday is good while at the same time being horribly, horribly bad. Jesus is Emmanuel, God With Us, in life and wellbeing and far more importantly in suffering and in death. In his suffering and death we see that nothing, absolutely nothing separates us from the love of God. The curtain of the temple is torn in two. Thanks be to God!

Thursday, April 9, 2020

On Progressive Christianity


On Progressive Christianity

I call myself a progressive Christian. Many of my colleagues in ministry call themselves progressive Christians. I guess we must think we know what we mean by that term since we call ourselves that, yet I don’t know how often we stop and ask ourselves what the phrase progressive Christian actually means. Probably not often. Maybe never. If someone asked us to define the term we’d probably start by talking a lot about what we’re not. We don’t wrap cultural prejudices in a cloak of pseudo-religious piety. We don’t condemn people for being who they are. We’re not biblical literalists. We’re not Christian exclusivists who think that Christianity is the only true way to God. Mostly, we’re not that kind of Christian, the kind that has monopolized the public expression of Christianity in this country for a long time, the conservative, judgmental, hellfire and brimstone kind. We’d probably start talking about not being this, that, or some other thing.
Which is all fine and good as far as it goes, but it doesn’t go nearly far enough. In theory I guess you can define something by specifying what it is not. A thing is what it is not, which makes sense to the philosophical mind but not so much of anyone else. When most of us want to understand a thing we want to know what it is, not what it is not. So what is progressive Christianity? More precisely, what does “progressive” mean in the phrase progressive Christianity? That is the question I will attempt to answer in this piece.
When we’re attempting to define any word dictionary definitions are an obvious place to start. That, after all, is what dictionaries are for, to define words. My Google search “define progressive” yielded these definitions: “happening or developing gradually or in stages; proceeding step by step” and “(of a group, person, or idea) favoring or implementing social reform or new, liberal ideas.” One problem with most definitions is that they contain words that themselves need to be defined. Here that word is “liberal.” My Google search “define liberal” yielded, among others, the definition “open to new behavior or opinions and willing to discard traditional values.” For our purposes here I think it makes sense for us to put a couple of these definitions together and modify them slightly to give us the definition of progressive “favoring new ideas that open us to new understandings and willing to alter traditional values and understandings in order to bring them closer to God’s will and ways for the world.”
Which again is all fine and good as far as it goes, but there are some significant problems with it. As most any definition is, this one is hopelessly vague. It raises at least as many questions as it answers. It’s full of words the precise meanings of which are far from clear. It doesn’t address the specifically Christian context we’re working in here. So clearly there is lot more to say before we have any meaningful understanding of the word progressive in the phrase progressive Christian.
One key to understanding the phrase progressive Christian lies in the word “new” in the definitions above. Progressive Christianity progresses, that is, it moves. It doesn’t move backward toward what is behind us. It may and should preserve and use the parts of the Christian past that have value and are worth keeping. It may rediscover and use things that are actually old but are new to our current context. Yet it is not primarily or merely an attempt to return to the past or to any part of it. It moves ahead to something new. The world is always being made anew, and progressive Christianity seeks to formulate and propagate Christianity reimagined for a new world while still remaining recognizably Christian.
It will help to understand progressive Christianity if we compare it to its opposite. I’ll do that a lot in what follows. The opposite of progressive Christianity is conservative Christianity. Conservative Christianity is what most people both in the churches and outside them think Christianity is. Conservative Christianity seeks to lock the faith up in the past. It takes the understandings of Christianity from some earlier time and contends that those old understandings are the only true faith. Progressive Christianity understands that the world today is not the world of some idealized, absolutized past. It understands that the Christianity of past times does not speak the word a new world needs to hear.
Conservative Christians today, or at least many of them, insist that the Fundamentalism of the early twentieth century, which they mistakenly think is what original Christianity was, is the only correct understanding of the faith. Fundamentalism posits factuality as the only true way of understanding Christianity. It takes the factualism of scientific rationalism and applies it to the Christian faith. It applies that way of thinking to the Bible and insists that everything in the Bible is and must be factually true. It insists that everything in the Bible speaks in one voice, a Christian voice of course, never mind that much of the Bible was Jewish before it was ever Christian. It insists that there are no contradictions in the Bible because facts that contradict each other can’t all be factually true. It insists that there is nothing false in the Bible despite the immense difficulty of maintaining that position in the face of what is actually there.
Progressive Christianity sees the absurdity of these positions. Progressive Christians don’t check their brains at the door when they go to church or when they read the Bible. Beyond that, progressive Christians know their world well enough to know that people today aren’t and in the future won’t be satisfied with a faith that demands unquestioning submission, especially when the faith demands unquestioning submission to propositions that are facially absurd. Progressive Christians know that the world has both developed sophisticated analytical techniques that open the Bible up to be what it really is and is moving beyond any simplistic reduction of truth to fact. The world changes. Conservative Christianity denies that reality and thinks that old Christian understandings are sufficient for a new world. Progressive Christianity knows that they aren’t.
To put the matter more theologically, progressive Christianity readily engages in apologetics. Conservative Christianity doesn’t. While it may conform its worship style to contemporary popular styles it is unwilling to adapt its theology to the contemporary world. Apologetics doesn’t mean apologizing for anything. It is rather a theology that actively seeks to make the Christian faith speak meaningfully to its current context whatever that context may be. The essential elements of Christianity don’t change. How we understand them and how we present them to the world does.
Here’s an example. Once on the Monday after Easter a very conservative Christian pastor asked me if I had preached the Resurrection the day before. I answered truthfully that I had. What I didn’t say was that I almost certainly understand the Resurrection differently than he does. As a conservative, literalistic Christian he certainly understands Christ’s Resurrection as an historical fact as factual as any other historical fact. To conservative Christians if Christ did not rise bodily, physically from the grave there is no truth in the Resurrection at all.
To me and most progressive Christians it doesn’t matter if Jesus rose bodily, physically from the grave or not. The truth of Christ’s Resurrection doesn’t lie in its factuality. It lies in the experience of Christ’s first followers that death was not the end for him. Somehow they knew that he was still present with them after his physical death. They expressed that experience by telling stories of an empty tomb and encounters of some of his followers with Jesus risen from the grave. In their experience of his continuing presence with them God was with them too. That’s the truth of the matter whether Jesus rose bodily from the grave or not.
Understanding the Resurrection that way makes the Christian story of the Resurrection accessible to people in our context who cannot accept the facially absurd notion that a dead man rose from the grave. This understanding speaks to postmodern people who understand that truth is not limited to fact. Actually, the people who wrote the Gospel stories of the Resurrection also understood that the truth of their stories didn’t depend on their factual accuracy. Progressive Christians understand that there is value in ancient understandings of the nature of truth that we need to recapture and apply in our own time. Conservative Christians don’t.
One of the things apologetic theologians must figure out is what the existential crisis is for the people of her or his time and place. All people live with one existential crisis or another. Conservative Christians continue to insist that people’s existential crisis today is guilt over sin and the related fear over the fate of one’s eternal soul. It says that God dealt with those concerns by sending His (always His in this theology) Son to earth in the person of Jesus of Nazareth for the purpose of suffering and dying as a necessary precondition for God’s forgiveness of sin. Christ’s sacrifice on the cross supposedly procures God’s forgiveness of human sin. Conservative Christianity says that what we must to do procure that forgiveness for ourselves is to believe in Jesus Christ. By believe they mean take certain asserted facts about God and about Jesus as factually correct. Do that, conservative Christianity says, and your soul will spend a blissful eternity in heaven. Fail to do that and your soul will spend a horrible, tormented, painful eternity in the fires of hell. Conservative Christians will proclaim to one and all that that’s what Christianity is all about—procure God’s forgiveness of your sin by believing in that way in Jesus Christ.
That understanding of our existential crisis, however, does not reflect the deep concerns of most people in our context. The questions that torment most people today aren’t guilt over sin and fear about where they’ll spend eternity. Many people today don’t believe in the reality of an afterlife at all. What bothers a great many people today is the question of meaning. Does life mean anything at all? Why are we here? What does my life mean? Preaching about hellfire and brimstone doesn’t address those questions. Christianity can address those questions in profound and powerful ways, but to do so it has to speak a different word than the word of heaven and hell. Progressive Christianity speaks that word, a word of life lived with deep meaning in the service of God and God’s people.
Conservative Christians cling to an understanding of Jesus’ death that theologians call the classical atonement theory or the substitutionary sacrificial atonement theory. If you asked most people in the churches or outside of them what the Christian message is you’d probably get a lot of responses along that line. Jesus Christ died for our sins, conservative Christians say. Progressive Christians have so many problems with that understanding of the faith that it’s hard to know where to begin to list them. Feminist theologians call that theory cosmic child abuse. It necessarily leads to the conclusion that before Christ’s suffering and death God didn’t forgive human sin, something that the Bible doesn’t support and progressive Christians can’t accept.
Yet of course a core part of the Christian story is precisely that Jesus did suffer and die on a cross. That God Incarnate would suffer and die doesn’t make much sense on its face, but it is something with which all Christian theology must come to terms. The Christian tradition actually offers at least two other ways of understanding Christ’s suffering and death apart from the classical atonement theory. One is called the ransom or “Christus Victor” theory. This understanding posits that Jesus’ death is paying a price, but it’s not paying a price to God as the classical atonement theory asserts. Rather, it is paying a price, a ransom, to the devil to procure the release of humanity from the grip of sin. This understanding of Christ’s death actually appears far more often in the New Testament than does the classical atonement theory. Most of us don’t see it there because we’ve so had classical atonement drummed into our heads that we read it into passages where it really doesn’t belong.
A third way of understanding the significance of Jesus’ suffering and death is called theology of the cross. That’s not a particularly good way of identifying this theology because classical atonement theory and the ransom theory are also theologies of the cross, but that’s what this one is called. It’s a type of what’s called demonstration soteriology, soteriology being the technical term for a theology of salvation. Theology of the cross holds that in Jesus on the cross we see a demonstration of God’s unshakable solidarity with us humans in everything that happens to us.[1] In God Incarnate on the cross we see God entering into and absorbing the worst that life can bring and showing us that in whatever life may bring us and even in death God is present with us, holding us, and suffering with us. In theology of the cross God meets each one of us in whatever is happening to us. We see that nothing in all creation can separate us from the love of God. We see that we can hold onto God no matter what, and God will hold onto us. In theology of the cross progressive Christianity has a word from God that speaks far more directly and powerfully to people today than either classical atonement theory or the ransom theory ever could.
Conservative Christianity continues to insist that what God wants from us first of all is that we “believe” in Jesus Christ. By believe it means take as factually accurate certain asserted truths about God and about Jesus. We are to accept as fact that Jesus of Nazareth is the Son of God Incarnate, that he came to earth to pay the price for human sin and thus procure God’s forgiveness of that sin, and that when we accept those assertions as factually correct we are saved, that is, we are in right relationship with God and will spend eternity in heaven. The foundational demands that conservative Christianity makes on us are all thus cerebral. Conservative Christianity may and does call people to change the way they live, but that change is grounded first of all in what we believe, what our minds accept.
Progressive Christianity finds it hard to believe that God cares that much about what we think, to quote the late Marcus Borg, a great popularizer of progressive Christianity. Progressive Christians find a better understanding of what it is God wants from us in the actual meaning of the Greek New Testament words that are usually translated as some form of believe or belief. Those words all have as their root the word “pistis.” In its original context pistis did not mean accept unproven and unprovable  facts as accurate. It meant something more like to trust, or to be loyal to, or to give one’s heart to. When Christians first translated the New Testament from Greek into Latin they translated pistis as credo. The root word of credo is cor, the Latin word for heart. Pistis was never only about what the mind accepts as true. It was about a commitment of the whole person to something or someone.[2]
Progressive Christianity seeks to return to the original understanding of what Christian faith and the Christian life are all about. Certainly there is a cognitive element to Christianity, for as some sage once said the heart cannot love what the mind cannot accept. Progressive Christians believe however that God cares much more about what we do than about what we think. Christianity is about a commitment of the whole person to God and to love of and service with God’s people. God calls us far less to a certain belief than to a certain kind of life.
There are at least two other issues that our last observation raises that we must address. The first is whether Christianity is primarily about gaining some blissful future life beyond this life or about how we are to live this life. The second is whether we have to do something to merit God’s grace or whether God’s grace is a free unmerited gift to which God calls us to respond with faithful lives lived in the love of God and God’s people. I will consider them in that order.
For centuries their churches have told Christians that their faith is all about how we get our souls to heaven rather than hell after we die. Their churches have told them that that’s what Jesus is all about and what the Bible is all about. Different churches have given different answers to the question of how we do that, but they’ve mostly asked the same question. Some have said we’re saved, that is, our souls get to heaven, through our works, through what we do. Others have said we’re saved through what we believe. Either way the Christian churches, or at least the western churches and as a practical as opposed to a theological matter the eastern ones too have taught that Jesus was all about telling what we have to do to save our souls.[3] Progressive Christians understand that Jesus was hardly about how we save our souls at all. He was about how God calls us to live here on earth. Just what Jesus was all about is a complex issue that pulls us deep into the Bible and the history of Christianity. I’ll handle the issue here only briefly by looking at two passages in the New Testament that Christians have long believed say Jesus about the next life not this life, John 18:36 and John 3:16. They don’t actually say that Jesus is about a next life at all.
In chapter 18 of John Jesus has been arrested and taken before Pontius Pilate, the Roman Governor of Judea. The leaders of the Jewish people (but not the Jewish people themselves regardless of what some Gospel may say about the matter) have asked Pilate to crucify Jesus. Pilate has a rather complex conversation with Jesus as he tries to figure out whether this Galilean rube, as Pilate surely thought him to be, deserves such an extreme punishment. In that conversation Jesus speaks a line that has come into English as “my kingdom is not of this world.” That rendering of Jesus’ words certainly does sound like Jesus’ “kingdom” has nothing to do with this world and certainly isn’t located here.
There’s a problem here, however, namely that “my kingdom Is not of this world” is a bad translation of the Greek original of the Gospel of John. In Greek Jesus says that his kingdom is not “ek tou kosmou.Tou kosmou means this world. There’s no problem there. The problem is with the translation of the preposition “ek.” The traditional English translation of that word, which comes from the King James Version, is “of.” The problem is that ek doesn’t mean of. It means from or out of. A person comes ek a room when she walks out of it. The New Revised Standard Version of the Bible that I’m using here translates ek in this statement as “from,” giving us “My kingdom is not from this world” rather than “My kingdom is not of this world.” “From this world” is a much better translation than “of this world.”[4]
Now, the quibbling over the translation of one word that I’m doing here may seem insignificant or even petty, but this translation issue is really important. The translation “of this world” has misled Christians for centuries into believing that Jesus is about some other-worldly life rather about how we are to live this life. The correct translation, “from this world,” may seem obscure, but at least it doesn’t suggest some heavenly realm rather than a worldly one. It points to the source of Jesus’ kingdom not its location. Jesus’ status and authority as sovereign don’t come from this world. They come from no earthly power. They come from heaven, which is to say they come from God. So even if you’re using the King James Version, or the New International Version, or some other English translation that uses “of this world” as your personal Bible don’t be misled. John 18:36 does not say that Jesus and his kingdom exist on some other plane. Jesus’ kingdom is about this life on this earth. In whatever translation you read John 18:36 please keep that truth in mind.
Another verse from John has perhaps misled Christians even more than “my kingdom is not of this world” has. It’s John 3:16, the most frequently quoted verse in the Bible. In the NRSV John 3:16 reads: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not parish but may have eternal life.”[5] This verse says that “eternal life” is what God sent Jesus to earth to give us Christians, and most Christians have understood it to mean that our reward for proper belief is a blissful eternity in heaven. I can assure you that that is not what the verse means. It was never what the author of the Gospel of John intended to say.
The Gospel of John defines the phrase “eternal life” as meaning something quite different from endless life in heaven. At John 17:1-3 we read:

After Jesus had spoken these words, he looked up to heaven and said, ‘Father, the hour has come; glorify your Son so that the Son may glorify you, since you have given him authority over all people, to give eternal life to all whom you have given him. And this is eternal life, that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent.

Notice that John’s Jesus doesn’t say “This is how you get eternal life.” He says “this is eternal life.” Emphasis added. Eternal life then is not some future life on some other plane of existence that we must somehow earn. Eternal life is a kind of life here and now. It is this life lived in the knowledge of God and Jesus Christ. The phrase “eternal life” appears many times in John. It always means a kind of life in this life on earth, not some other life in heaven. The Gospel of John doesn’t deny the reality of life after death, but that hoped for future life is not what Jesus is mostly about. He’s about this life. Progressive Christians understand that truth better than most conservative Christians do.
Then there’s the issue of the nature of God’s grace. Conservative Christians tend to make God’s grace conditional. Conservative evangelicals are fond of quoting verses like Acts 16:31: “Believe on the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved….” They present salvation as an if-then proposition, and “if” is always something people do not something God does. For conservative evangelicals the thing we must do is hold the right beliefs. Conservative Catholics say “Extra Ecclesiam nulla salus,” outside the church there is no salvation. For these conservative Christians salvation is conditioned upon participation in the Roman Catholic Church. Conservative Christians of whatever stripe make salvation conditional. They make God’s grace conditional.
The way conservative Christians make salvation conditional raises an important question: When salvation is conditioned on something the one being saved does, who does the saving? With conditional grace it seems more like we save ourselves through what we believe or do than that we are saved by God’s grace. Moreover, conditional grace gives us the power to manipulate God. We get God to do what God otherwise would not do.
It’s easy of course to find biblical support for conditional grace. I just quoted one place you can find it from Acts. It’s easy enough to read Paul as  saying that salvation (or justification at least) id conditioned on our faith. Whether we read Paul as saying we are saved by grace through faith or as saying that we are saved by faith alone we hear him making salvation conditional.
Here, however, is the foundational truth of the matter: Conditional grace isn’t grace. When grace is conditional the salvation it brings is a payment not a gift. Salvation becomes something we earn rather than something God freely gives us freely. Grace is God’s love in action upon the world, and love must be un conditional if it is truly love. Making grace conditional on something we do turns grace into a contractual relationship or so it seems to me, a former lawyer. Our fulfilling our part of the contract becomes a condition precedent for God fulfilling God’s part of the contract. A contractual relationship isn’t and can’t be a relationship grounded in love, grounded in grace. Making grace conditional simply makes it not grace.
Just as it’s not hard to find biblical passages that make God’s grace conditional, so it’s also possible to find biblical passages in which God’s grace truly is unconditional. Here’s my favorite one, Romans 8:35, 38-39:

Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

If nothing in all creation can separate us from the love of God then not having certain beliefs can’t do it. Not living the right way can’t do it. Not belonging to the right church can’t do it. Nothing can. God’s  grace, which is God’s love in action, is truly unconditional. If it isn’t it isn’t grace.
I have preached and taught unconditional grace throughout my professional ministry, so I know that some people find it hard to accept. A former congregant of mine (former not because he left my church but because he passed away before I left the church) said to me over and over again that I was taking away people’s motivation for proper living. For this good fellow if God wasn’t going to withdraw grace from us for bad acts there was no reason not to engage in bad acts. The only reason not to be selfish, not to harm others, was to earn God’s grace, that is, to earn salvation.
This congregant of mine was hardly alone in holding that belief. I suspect that most Christians hold similar ones. After all, we’ve had it pounded into our heads that there is something we have to do to earn salvation. Fear of the supposed consequences of false belief or bad actions can indeed be a great motivator for us to hold right beliefs and to act in the way we think God wants us to act. The operative word in that statement, however, is fear. Conditional grace turns Christianity into a faith grounded in fear. Yet Christianity says God is love. 1 John 4:8. Conservative Christians love John 3:16: “For God so loved the world….” True lovers don’t generate fear in their loved ones. Not even human lovers do that, much less does God, whose love so far exceeds ours that we can’t really comprehend it. Conditional grace produces fear. Unconditional grace produces peace.
Yet doesn’t unconditional grace truly remove our incentive for living the way God wants us to? After all, it does say that God is not going to punish us for doing wrong, so doesn’t it? Well no, it doesn’t remove all motivation for living right, but it does change it. When we understand God’s grace as unconditional we no longer seek to live properly out of fear. We don’t live rightly to earn salvation, for we understand that salvation is already ours in God’s love. So no, we don’t act to earn grace, we act in response to grace. And yes, I know. That statement needs a lot of explaining. Yet the concept is actually quite simple. There’s a line in the hymn “When I Survey the Wondrous Cross” that states it well: “Love so amazing, so divine, demands my life, my soul, my all.” When we truly get how amazing God’s grace really is we can’t help but respond to love with love.
So just what is so amazing about God’s grace? It is that God offers it to us though we know and God knows we don’t deserve it. Paul knew that truth. So did Martin Luther. That’s why they both came to rely on God’s grace rather than on their own actions as the source of their salvation. I know that a lot of progressive Christians don’t like the idea that we don’t deserve God’s grace. They think they are without sin and so don’t need unconditional grace. They’re wrong. As Paul says all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God. Romans 3:23. Years ago I did a seminary internship at a progressive church in which the people wouldn’t let the pastor include a prayer of confession in the weekly worship service. Wrong. We all sin and fall short of the glory of God.
I’ll use myself as an example. I don’t think I’m a bad person, but I know that I’m not a perfect one. I don’t love God’s people as much as God wants me to. I harbor anger in unhealthy ways. I convince myself that my anger is righteous. Some of it probably is, but not all of it. There are people I have to confess I have hated rather than loved. I don’t do all the good work in the world that God wants me to do. Most of the time I don’t do any at all, excusing myself by saying that my skills are writing and public speaking rather than hands on work with people in need. I know those things about myself, and I know that God knows them too. I know I don’t deserve grace, but I know that I have it and live in it anyway. That’s why it’s grace and not a reward. I also try, imperfectly to be sure, to respond to God’s love with love. I served God’s people as a pastor for several years later in my life. I have served on the boards of a few nonprofit organizations that do good work in the world. I love and care for my family. I am committed to, preach, and try to live God’s nonviolence. I tell myself that I do what I can, but in truth I just do what I’m willing to do. The greatest miracle there is or ever could be is that God loves me anyway. God loves you anyway no matter what you may have done in your life. God doesn’t make us earn salvation. God wants to respond to love with love. That’s the motivation for proper living with unconditional grace.
Here's one more issue that I think is important in understanding progressive Christianity. Conservative Christians insist that their faith, their version of Christianity, is the only path to salvation. It is the only way to be right with God. Once again it’s easy enough to find biblical passages that appear at least to support that conviction. We’ve already noted that conservative Christians love John 3:16. They’re less likely to say so publicly, but they also believe John 3:18: “Those who believe in [Jesus] are not condemned; but those who do not believe are condemned already, because they have not believed in the name of the only Son of God.” Sure makes it sound like believing in Jesus is the only way to avoid God condemning us. Here’s another one, John 14:6: “Jesus said to him, ‘I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”[6] The spread of Christianity from Europe to the rest of the world resulted at least in part from the belief of conservative Christians that if people who had never heard of Jesus didn’t convert to Christianity their souls would spend eternity in hell. Progressive Christians believe no such thing. Here’s why.
The New Testament texts that appear to establish Christian exclusivism were all written around 1,900 years ago by and for a very small group of people. There just weren’t that many Christians at the time, and they were utterly powerless. They lived in a world that was considerably smaller than ours. They had far less exposure to people of other great religious traditions than we do. They were mad at the Jews for their failure to accept Jesus as the Jewish Messiah. So they wrote that belief in Jesus was the only way to God.
From our perspective they were just wrong about that. We know in a way that they did not (and could not) that there are a great many people in the world who live good, faithful lives and find a real connection with ultimate reality in other faith traditions. We know that there are lots of people who live good, moral lives without believing in God at all. We can say that only Christians are right with God only by closing our eyes and our minds to the reality all around us. We also know, as they did not and could not, that Christian exclusivism has had horrendous consequences around the world. Christians backed by the power of European empires were so convinced that everyone had to convert to Christianity to avoid eternal damnation that they sometimes forced conversion at the tip of a sword or the point of a gun. In doing that they violated the autonomy, freedom, and moral integrity of the people they were forcing to convert. Such a conversion is of course no real conversion at all. It is something of which all us Christians must repent.
Here's one of my favorite stories about the error of Christian exclusivism. With a bow to Marcus Borg I’ll say that I don’t know if it happened this way or not, but I know that this story is true. A Christian missionary, operating of course from a belief in Christian exclusivism, quoted John 14:6, “I am the way, the truth, and the life, no one comes to the Father except through me” to a Hindu sage and asked that good man what he thought of that statement. The Hindu sage answered: Oh yes. I believe that completely. The Christian missionary was confused. The man he was talking to wasn’t a Christian and had no intention of becoming one. The Hindu man explained: To understand this saying we must understand what the way is that Jesus is. It is the way of peace, love, and reconciliation. Yes, that is indeed the way. This non-Christian understood Jesus far better than far too many Christians have. Christian exclusivism is wrong. I will go so far as to say that it is sinful. We really do have to get over it.
There is of course a lot more that could and needs to be said about progressive Christianity, but I’ll conclude this piece with what may strike you as a surprising or even an absurd contention. The phrase conservative Christian is an oxymoron. It is internally contradictory. One cannot at the same time be a true Christian and be conservative in one’s political, economic, societal, and cultural beliefs and commitments. The reason why that is so is simple enough. To be a Christian is to follow Jesus. Believing in him is part of it, but it isn’t all of it.
In the story of Christ’s Transfiguration the voice from heaven doesn’t say “believe in him.” It says “listen to him.” Mark 9:7. When we listen to Jesus what do we hear? We hear a rebel who turned everything in his world on its head, and of course he did that nonviolently. He said the first shall be last and the last shall be first. He lifted up the despised and condemned the powerful. He said the poor are blessed and lauded the peacemakers not the warriors. He made women the equals of men among his followers and served sinners and tax collectors. He blessed the poor in spirit and fiercely criticized the religious establishment of his day. He said resist evil, but do it nonviolently. He praised the hated Samaritan and welcomed the prodigal home unconditionally. He didn’t say a word about homosexuality or abortion but spoke volumes about justice. Jesus rejected all violence and wouldn’t let his followers use it even to save his own life. Nonetheless he stood every convention of his day on its head. One of the best ways to understand Jesus is to take every cultural, economic, social, and political norm of one’s time and place and turn it on its head. That’s what Jesus did.
He calls to do the same. Jesus analyzed his world and called people to reconstruct it by transforming themselves one heart at a time. No one who claims to follow Jesus can accept unjust political and economic structures and wrap them in a blanket of sentimental piety. Jesus would never put a national flag in a worship space or equate God’s realm with any existing political entity. To follow Jesus is to be laser focused on the injustices and violence of one’s context and to work to change them, to work nonviolently for radical social transformation. Jesus was anything but conservative. He was a nonviolent revolutionary. We fail to be truly Christian when we are anything less.


[1] For a more complete consideration of theology of the cross see Chapters 8 and 9 of my Liberating Christianity, Overcoming Obstacles to Faith in the New Millennium, Wipf and Stock, Eugene, Oregon, 2008.
[2] For a more complete discussion of the meaning of pistis see my Liberating the Bible, A Pastor’s Guided Tour for Seeking Christians, Revised edition, Volume 3, The New Testament, Coffee Press, Briarwood, NY, 2019, pp. 160-164.
[3] The Orthodox churches, the largest of which by far is the Russian Orthodox Church, ask a different foundational question than the western churches both Catholic and Protestant, or at least in theory they do. The foundational question the Orthodox churches ask isn’t how do we save our souls. It’s how do we become divine. Orthodox Christianity is a fascinating variety of Christianity that most western Christians know nothing about. For a good introduction to it see Timothy Ware, The Orthodox Church, An Introduction to Eastern Christianity, Penguin, 2nd revised edition. 1993.
[4] Unfortunately the New International Version, the most widely purchased English translation, leaves this line as “My kingdom is not of this world.” This retention of the King James Version’s bad translation probably reflects the conservative theology of the NIV’s translators. It can only foster a continuing misunderstanding of what Jesus is all about.
[5] There is actually more than that about this verse that is problemati. For a fuller discussion of this verse see my Liberating Christianity, op. cit., pp. 160-167.
[6] You may have noticed how most of the verses I cite as typical of conservative Christianity come from the Gospel of John. Conservative Christians love John more than they love the other New Testament Gospels or most any other New Testament text for that matter. For a more complete discussion of John’s Christian exclusivism see  my Liberating the Bible, op. cit., pp. 170-179.

Thursday, April 2, 2020

Two for One


Two for One
Scripture: Matthew 21:1-11
Have you ever noticed it? There’s what appears to be a very odd thing about Matthew’s version of the Palm Sunday story. Versions of that story appear in Matthew, Mark, and Luke, though not in John. In all three of them Jesus rides into Jerusalem to the acclaim of the crowd. People put things down on the road before him, variously clothing or plants, palms of otherwise. Here’s an important thing to understand about this story that you may not have heard. In it Jesus acts out a vision from the otherwise rather obscure Hebrew prophet Zechariah. At Zechariah 9:9 we read:

Rejoice greatly, O daughter Zion!
     Shout aloud O daughter
          Jerusalem!
Lo, your king comes to you,
     triumphant and victorious is he,
     humble and riding on a donkey,
          on a colt, the foal of a donkey.

Jesus does what this passage envisions. He rides into Jerusalem humbly and on a donkey.

Or at least in Mark and Luke he rides in on a donkey. At Mark 11:7 we read “Then they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks on it; and he sat on it.” At Luke 19:35 we find “Then they brought it to Jesus and threw their cloaks on it; and he sat on it.” Thus in both Mark and Luke  it is perfectly clear that there is only one animal on which Jesus rides into Jerusalem. Both of these Gospels call the animal a colt without further specification of what sort of colt, but never mind. It’s just one colt.
Now compare Matthew’s version of the story to the versions in Mark and Luke. In Matthew as in the other two versions Jesus sends disciples into a village to fetch him a ride. In Matthew’s version Jesus says to two disciples “Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately you will find a donkey tied, and a colt with her; untie them and bring them to me.” Matthew 21:2. Then Matthew gives one of his numerous prophecy fulfillment passages: “This took place to fulfill what had been spoken through the prophet, saying,

‘Tell the daughter of Zion,
Look, your king is coming to you,
     humble, and mounted on
          a donkey,
     and on a colt, the foal of
          a donkey.’ Matthew 21:4-5.

The two disciples go into the village as directed. Then “they brought and donkey and the colt and put their cloaks on them, and he sat on them.” Matthew 21:7.

Do you see the startling difference between Matthew’s version of the story and the other two Gospel versions of it? In Mark and Luke the disciples fetch one animal, and Jesus sits on it. In Matthew they fetch two animals, and Jesus sits on both of them at the same time! We wonder why he would sit on two animals at once. Has he become a circus performer doing stunt riding? And even if he could sit on two animals at once, why would he? It just makes no sense at all.

Now, I’m quite sure Jesus didn’t ride both a donkey and her colt into Jerusalem. Surely he just rode one donkey. So why does Matthew say he rode two? To understand at least one reason why he says that we need to go back to the passage from Zechariah that I quoted above. There we read that this future king rides into Jerusalem “on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” Zechariah 9:9. Does it look to you like Zechariah is talking about two animals, a donkey and her colt? It can perhaps look like that to us. I can assure you however that he’s not. What he’s doing is writing Hebrew poetry. Let me explain.

The Old Testament is full of Hebrew poetry. In most English translations it’s presented in verse form. Those verses are poetry; but they don’t rhyme, and they don’t follow any particular meter. Rather, Hebrew poetry consists of series of couplets. (Sometimes it’s a triplet with three lines rather than a couplet with two, but we won’t worry about that for now.) The poet makes a statement then gives a second line that is closely related to the first line. Most commonly the second line restates the first line in different words. The second line may also develop or comment on the first line. Here’s a random example from Isaiah:

Comfort, O comfort my people says your God.
Speak tenderly to Jerusalem. Isaiah 40:1-2
And another:
In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord.
Make straight in the desert a highway for our God. Isaiah 40:3
In the first example the second line restates and developed the first line by envisioning comforting as speaking tenderly. In the second the second line restates and develops the first line by presenting preparing the way as making a highway straight. The Hebrew words don’t rhyme and were never intended to rhyme. They aren’t in iambic pentameter. They are nonetheless poetry, poetry in a different form.

Now go back to our passage from Zechariah. There we read in part that the coming king is

               humble and riding on a donkey,
                    on a colt, the foal of a donkey.

Here the second line simply restates the first line by calling the donkey on which the king rides a colt, the foal of a donkey. It is obvious once we understand Hebrew poetry that the author intends one animal here not two.

Yet Matthew gives us two animals. Why? There are I think a few different possible answers to that question, though that Jesus actually rode into Jerusalem on two animals isn’t one of them. Maybe he had a bad translation of the Hebrew original of Zechariah into Greek. Or maybe he read the Hebrew himself and didn’t quite understand it. He does after all misquote Zechariah. Where Zechariah has “on a donkey, on a colt the foal of a donkey” Matthew has “on a donkey and on a colt.” (Emphasis added) Or maybe he had a bad version of Mark. Mark is one of his primary sources, and Mark gets Zechariah right. A more likely explanation is that Matthew didn’t understand Hebrew poetry. If he didn’t he could have understood Zechariah as meaning two animals not one whether he read Zechariah in the Hebrew original or in a good Greek translation.

There is however a big problem with that last explanation. The author of the Gospel of Matthew was clearly Jewish. His Gospel is the most Jewish of the Gospels. He quotes Hebrew prophecy more than any other New Testament author. He presents Jesus as a new Moses who comes to Israel from Egypt like Moses did, something that might be important to Jews but certainly less so to Greeks. He has Jesus deliver the largest collection of his saying from the top of a mountain (The Sermon on the Mount) in imitation of Moses. He arranges Jesus’ sayings into five groupings echoing the five books of Moses, that is, the five books of the Torah. So while it’s possible that this author didn’t understand Hebrew poetry, it seems more likely that he did.

All of those possible explanations for what Matthew has done leave us wondering: Even if he thought Zechariah was talking about two animals why didn’t he correct him? By using two animals in the story he gives us a perfectly absurd image. Jesus rides into town sitting on two animals presumably of different size (an adult mare and her presumably shorter foal) at the same time. So here’s a possible explanation of how Matthew may actually have meant to use two animals other than he did it because he thought Zechariah meant two animals.

What’s going on in this story? Jesus comes as a king, but’s not riding on a great warhorse. He’ riding on a humble farm animal, useful to be sure but hardly grand. An animal of peaceful agricultural production not of war. Some scholars describe this scene as guerrilla theater. It is parody. It mocks Pontius Pilate and his Roman legions who always came to Jerusalem with a great show of force at Passover in an effort to prevent rebellion. Jesus is intentionally doing something absurd from the world’s point of view as a prophetic act proclaiming that God’s kingdom is one of peace not war. Having Jesus ride two animals at once makes what is already absurd even more absurd. Perhaps Matthew intentionally misquoted Zechariah and put Jesus on two animals to heighten the absurdity of what Jesus is doing, to make the parody even funnier than it would be with Jesus on only one animal. That at least is the only explanation of Matthew’s two animals that I can come up with that doesn’t have Matthew just making a stupid mistake.

Take that explanation for what it’s worth, but don’t let Matthew’s two animals distract your from the point of the story. Jesus is a king, but he is a very different kind of king. He’s not about power and violence. He’s about peace and providing for all the people. That’s what the donkey symbolizes whether there is one donkey or two. Either way this is a great story of a great God of peace. Thanks be to God.