Yes, it's been a while. Here are a few items of interest that have come through my news reader in recent weeks...
-Rachel Held Evans puts the phrase "The Bible clearly teaches" into some much-needed perspective.
-David Brin offers a perspective on our current political situation that I find compelling. Granted, everyone thinks their political viewpoint is the best one, but he makes some good points.
-John Shore points out the hypocrisy that biblical literalists commonly display when they voice their condemnations of homosexuality.
-And in this pair of posts, we see how evangelism conducted by those (theists and non-theists alike) with a tribalistic 'us vs. them' mentality fails to be persuasive or winsome.
Showing posts with label Literalism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Literalism. Show all posts
Friday, January 31, 2014
Friday, December 06, 2013
Links
A few interesting articles to round out your week with:
1. First, this article on a side of C.S. Lewis that most people have never been aware of. Some people want to keep their spiritual heroes on pedestals; personally, I like him more now that I know a little more about his human side.
2. Rob Bell on how to read the Bible. It comes to life in a myriad of ways as soon as we stop trying to read it like an instruction manual.
3. Building on this piece from John Shore, perhaps the billboard Times Square really needs this Christmas is one that says Don't Feed the Fundies (of any stripe).
1. First, this article on a side of C.S. Lewis that most people have never been aware of. Some people want to keep their spiritual heroes on pedestals; personally, I like him more now that I know a little more about his human side.
2. Rob Bell on how to read the Bible. It comes to life in a myriad of ways as soon as we stop trying to read it like an instruction manual.
3. Building on this piece from John Shore, perhaps the billboard Times Square really needs this Christmas is one that says Don't Feed the Fundies (of any stripe).
Monday, August 12, 2013
Unfundamentalism
Lately I've been coming across a lot of good reading material at Unfundamentalist Christians (which I keep up with through their Facebook page. Here are a few of those items of interest:
1. A post with a few thoughts on the doctrine of "Biblical" Inerrancy. A watershed moment in my own journey was coming to the realization that this doctrine was neither biblical nor helpful.
2. This is the second time I've come across the blog Sacred Tension. This post on the tragically high cost of forcing celibacy on gay people nails the problem on the head, through individual stories that deserve to be given a fair hearing by those who make that demand. One of these days I hope to get around to writing about the compartmentalization I did in (and prior to) my ex-gay days and the ways that continues to impact my own life.
3. Finally, a quote:
1. A post with a few thoughts on the doctrine of "Biblical" Inerrancy. A watershed moment in my own journey was coming to the realization that this doctrine was neither biblical nor helpful.
2. This is the second time I've come across the blog Sacred Tension. This post on the tragically high cost of forcing celibacy on gay people nails the problem on the head, through individual stories that deserve to be given a fair hearing by those who make that demand. One of these days I hope to get around to writing about the compartmentalization I did in (and prior to) my ex-gay days and the ways that continues to impact my own life.
3. Finally, a quote:
For having lived long, I have experienced many instances of being obliged by better information, or fuller consideration, to change opinions even on important subjects, which I once thought right, but found to be otherwise. It is therefore that the older I grow, the more apt I am to doubt my own judgment, and to pay more respect to the judgment of others. Most men indeed as well as most sects in Religion, think themselves in possession of all truth, and that wherever others differ from them it is so far error…- Benjamin Franklin, Speech before the Constitutional Convention, Sept. 17, 1787, recorded by James Madison
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Heart and Mind
Recently some discussions have cropped up related to a book from the 1990s, The Scandal of the Evangelical Mind. I vaguely recall it causing a stir in the evangelical circles that constituted my entire world in the mid-90s, though I never read the book myself. But its message is still relevant today - perhaps even moreso as the rifts within the evangelical church begin to widen and the religious right wanes in influence.
The ever-thoughtful Rachel Held Evans offered a slightly different perspective, pointing out the state of the evangelical heart. Although the circles I ran in allowed for a degree of soul-searching over difficult issues like the advocacy of genocide in the Old Testament, there is still a point where a literalist, inerrantist approach to the Bible inevitably leads to some degree of cognitive dissonance. A paradox develops in which the God of love that Jesus and the prophets revealed is also a God of unspeakable destruction - a paradox that leads not to wonderment and deeper spiritual understanding but to fear and a dehumanizing of those seen as deserving of God's wrath. Obviously the Canaanites deserved to be exterminated, the literalist concludes, so why should we worry about it?
Because that cognitive dissonance lies at the root of Evans' dilemma, however, I cannot give greater weight to her concern than I can to the Deeper Scandal of the Evangelical Mind, as Peter Enns labels it. What we believe intellectually doesn't always match up with how we treat others, but the former cannot help but influence the latter. And while genuinely compassionate people who hold to a literalist, inerrantist view of the Bible do exist, they seem to do so in spite of their beliefs.
I have many positive memories of my years at a Christian college; while academic freedom was limited in many ways, it is still the place where I first began to learn how to think for myself. Compared to the fundamentalist churches I'd grown up in, it was positively liberating.
At the end of the day, though, the situation at my alma mater was (and is) as Enns says; academic inquiry and independent thought are only tolerated as long as one reaches the "correct" conclusions with them. Another Christian institution I'm familiar with advertises that it encourages freedom to think "within the limits of Scripture." To an evangelical that sounds very generous; students and faculty are allowed to disagree on many theological points where more conservative schools and churches might try to squash any dissent. When scrutinized, however, that motto is reminiscent of the constitution of the former Soviet Union, which made sweeping statements about various human rights that were officially recognized - only to render those protections meaningless by declaring that exercise of those rights "must not be to the detriment of the interests of society or the state," while leaving the government free rein to determine what constituted its interests.
Freedom of speech, as long as you say the right things.
(The above motto also fails to genuinely engage with the fact that "Scripture" is not nearly as clear-cut as conservative Christians so casually assume it to be, but that's a separate discussion.)
Even so, there are genuine intellectuals within the evangelical realm. One won't find them in the theology department (where free thinkers have a shorter lifespan than a piñata at a little leaguer's birthday party - and experience roughly the same fate), and even in other fields they don't always survive, but they do exist. It was my college history professor who first taught me that a real research paper interacts with multiple viewpoints and gives them a fair hearing, rather than just quoting sources that agree with one's conclusions and shooting down everything else. Granted, that professor was never completely happy at my alma mater and ended up leaving a few years later, but he was (at least when I knew him) a bona fide evangelical as well as a genuine scholar.
Another such scholar is Warren Throckmorton, whose commitment to pursuing the truth no matter where it leads has placed him in opposition to the many evangelicals who still believe that sexual orientation can be changed through prayer and/or therapy. He has added his own contribution to the above discussion.
Is there hope for reform within the evangelical church? It doesn't appear very hopeful; as Enns points out, "Evangelicalism is not fundamentally an intellectual organism but an apologetic one." Scratch the surface of nearly any evangelical organization engaged in any sort of research or scientific pursuit and that fact quickly becomes apparent.
But change is possible; the writers I've cited are all proof that some who identify with evangelicalism hope for its transformation into a more open-minded (and open-hearted) movement. One can only pray that their voices won't be ignored.
The ever-thoughtful Rachel Held Evans offered a slightly different perspective, pointing out the state of the evangelical heart. Although the circles I ran in allowed for a degree of soul-searching over difficult issues like the advocacy of genocide in the Old Testament, there is still a point where a literalist, inerrantist approach to the Bible inevitably leads to some degree of cognitive dissonance. A paradox develops in which the God of love that Jesus and the prophets revealed is also a God of unspeakable destruction - a paradox that leads not to wonderment and deeper spiritual understanding but to fear and a dehumanizing of those seen as deserving of God's wrath. Obviously the Canaanites deserved to be exterminated, the literalist concludes, so why should we worry about it?
Because that cognitive dissonance lies at the root of Evans' dilemma, however, I cannot give greater weight to her concern than I can to the Deeper Scandal of the Evangelical Mind, as Peter Enns labels it. What we believe intellectually doesn't always match up with how we treat others, but the former cannot help but influence the latter. And while genuinely compassionate people who hold to a literalist, inerrantist view of the Bible do exist, they seem to do so in spite of their beliefs.
I have many positive memories of my years at a Christian college; while academic freedom was limited in many ways, it is still the place where I first began to learn how to think for myself. Compared to the fundamentalist churches I'd grown up in, it was positively liberating.
At the end of the day, though, the situation at my alma mater was (and is) as Enns says; academic inquiry and independent thought are only tolerated as long as one reaches the "correct" conclusions with them. Another Christian institution I'm familiar with advertises that it encourages freedom to think "within the limits of Scripture." To an evangelical that sounds very generous; students and faculty are allowed to disagree on many theological points where more conservative schools and churches might try to squash any dissent. When scrutinized, however, that motto is reminiscent of the constitution of the former Soviet Union, which made sweeping statements about various human rights that were officially recognized - only to render those protections meaningless by declaring that exercise of those rights "must not be to the detriment of the interests of society or the state," while leaving the government free rein to determine what constituted its interests.
Freedom of speech, as long as you say the right things.
(The above motto also fails to genuinely engage with the fact that "Scripture" is not nearly as clear-cut as conservative Christians so casually assume it to be, but that's a separate discussion.)
Even so, there are genuine intellectuals within the evangelical realm. One won't find them in the theology department (where free thinkers have a shorter lifespan than a piñata at a little leaguer's birthday party - and experience roughly the same fate), and even in other fields they don't always survive, but they do exist. It was my college history professor who first taught me that a real research paper interacts with multiple viewpoints and gives them a fair hearing, rather than just quoting sources that agree with one's conclusions and shooting down everything else. Granted, that professor was never completely happy at my alma mater and ended up leaving a few years later, but he was (at least when I knew him) a bona fide evangelical as well as a genuine scholar.
Another such scholar is Warren Throckmorton, whose commitment to pursuing the truth no matter where it leads has placed him in opposition to the many evangelicals who still believe that sexual orientation can be changed through prayer and/or therapy. He has added his own contribution to the above discussion.
Is there hope for reform within the evangelical church? It doesn't appear very hopeful; as Enns points out, "Evangelicalism is not fundamentally an intellectual organism but an apologetic one." Scratch the surface of nearly any evangelical organization engaged in any sort of research or scientific pursuit and that fact quickly becomes apparent.
But change is possible; the writers I've cited are all proof that some who identify with evangelicalism hope for its transformation into a more open-minded (and open-hearted) movement. One can only pray that their voices won't be ignored.
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Mythos
Earlier this year I finally saw the 1999 film Trekkies for the first time. Despite being a lifelong Star Trek fan I'd never made an effort to see this documentary, in part because I was already familiar with the lengths that some diehard fans go to, and the laughter (not always kind) that accompanies their displays of devotion to all things Trek.
And Trekkies does introduce viewers to a number of fans whose lives revolve around Star Trek to an extreme. Despite a handful of cringeworthy moments, however, the documentary also reminded me why Star Trek has such a devoted fan base (myself included, even if I've never worn a Starfleet uniform in my everyday life or learned to speak Klingon) in the first place. Its positive vision of a future in which mankind has overcome the problems that threaten our present existence - racism, poverty, war, pollution, etc. - and joined with alien races to form a federation based on our highest ideals, has inspired hope in many who saw little reason for hope in the present-day world around them.
In addition to that reminder, the subjects of Trekkies point us toward an aspect of our humanity that sometimes gets forgotten in our age of science and rationalism: the power of myth. For too long our modern world has conflated myth with fiction and thereby reduced it to mere entertainment. Myth may not be intended to live up to the factual standards of literal history, but "real" or not it connects us with the deeper truths of human existence that aren't so easily quantified in textbooks and instruction manuals.
For some, Star Trek really is nothing more than entertainment. But for others, it's the mythology that informs their lives and shapes the lens through which they interpret the world around them. Religious or not, we humans long to be part of a greater story. On an intuitive level the modern church has never completely forgotten that; even the most ardent literalists still teach their children the stories of Moses, David, Joseph, Esther and the other great heroes of the Bible.
Where we get tripped up is in the dichotomy that modern society has created between fact and fiction. It's a necessary distinction when one is dealing with matters of science, but when we apply it to all realms of life we lose something vital. A friend of mine who attended an evangelical seminary once took a class on the writings of CS Lewis that was taught by a theology professor who had never read the Chronicles of Narnia because he adamantly refused to read fiction. Not coincidentally, this professor wasn't known for being a very interesting person when he wasn't standing behind a podium. And no doubt he finds it exasperating that so many children love Aslan more than they love the God they hear about in church on Sundays.
Christian apologetics is still a highly popular pursuit in evangelical circles. If we can just prove the Bible is literally true, the world will have no choice but to fall in line behind us - or so advocates of apologetics seem to believe. All we have to do is win the argument once and for all, and anyone who still dissents will be exposed as a fraud. Unfortunately, the stories and poems that encounter us through so much of the Bible don't readily lend themselves to this approach.
That's not to say that logic and reason have no place in theological discussions, simply that their use has been misdirected. At the end of the day, which has the greater influence on our spiritual lives - debates over the age and authorship of the book of Daniel, or the stories of courage and wisdom that become part of our own stories as we read it?
Perhaps the church would be a more Christ-like place if we worried less about being right about everything. As Rob Bell puts it, "a good story has a powerful way of rescuing us from abstract theological discussions that can tie us up in knots for years." Rediscovering the Bible as Divine myth rather than as a book of facts and rules may seem an invitation to anarchy, given how a story can mean something different to every person who hears it.
Some may even think it reduces the Christian faith to the level of a fairy tale if we cannot state with certainty that every story in the Bible is historically accurate. But perhaps the open-endedness of myth is the only way mankind can connect with the Infinite. And perhaps that same open-endedness will serve to weed out those whose quest for certainty and rules is less about that connection than it is about attempting to control God.
And maybe the Bible would once again inspire Christians as powerfully as Star Trek inspires Trekkies.
And Trekkies does introduce viewers to a number of fans whose lives revolve around Star Trek to an extreme. Despite a handful of cringeworthy moments, however, the documentary also reminded me why Star Trek has such a devoted fan base (myself included, even if I've never worn a Starfleet uniform in my everyday life or learned to speak Klingon) in the first place. Its positive vision of a future in which mankind has overcome the problems that threaten our present existence - racism, poverty, war, pollution, etc. - and joined with alien races to form a federation based on our highest ideals, has inspired hope in many who saw little reason for hope in the present-day world around them.
In addition to that reminder, the subjects of Trekkies point us toward an aspect of our humanity that sometimes gets forgotten in our age of science and rationalism: the power of myth. For too long our modern world has conflated myth with fiction and thereby reduced it to mere entertainment. Myth may not be intended to live up to the factual standards of literal history, but "real" or not it connects us with the deeper truths of human existence that aren't so easily quantified in textbooks and instruction manuals.
For some, Star Trek really is nothing more than entertainment. But for others, it's the mythology that informs their lives and shapes the lens through which they interpret the world around them. Religious or not, we humans long to be part of a greater story. On an intuitive level the modern church has never completely forgotten that; even the most ardent literalists still teach their children the stories of Moses, David, Joseph, Esther and the other great heroes of the Bible.
Where we get tripped up is in the dichotomy that modern society has created between fact and fiction. It's a necessary distinction when one is dealing with matters of science, but when we apply it to all realms of life we lose something vital. A friend of mine who attended an evangelical seminary once took a class on the writings of CS Lewis that was taught by a theology professor who had never read the Chronicles of Narnia because he adamantly refused to read fiction. Not coincidentally, this professor wasn't known for being a very interesting person when he wasn't standing behind a podium. And no doubt he finds it exasperating that so many children love Aslan more than they love the God they hear about in church on Sundays.
Christian apologetics is still a highly popular pursuit in evangelical circles. If we can just prove the Bible is literally true, the world will have no choice but to fall in line behind us - or so advocates of apologetics seem to believe. All we have to do is win the argument once and for all, and anyone who still dissents will be exposed as a fraud. Unfortunately, the stories and poems that encounter us through so much of the Bible don't readily lend themselves to this approach.
That's not to say that logic and reason have no place in theological discussions, simply that their use has been misdirected. At the end of the day, which has the greater influence on our spiritual lives - debates over the age and authorship of the book of Daniel, or the stories of courage and wisdom that become part of our own stories as we read it?
Perhaps the church would be a more Christ-like place if we worried less about being right about everything. As Rob Bell puts it, "a good story has a powerful way of rescuing us from abstract theological discussions that can tie us up in knots for years." Rediscovering the Bible as Divine myth rather than as a book of facts and rules may seem an invitation to anarchy, given how a story can mean something different to every person who hears it.
Some may even think it reduces the Christian faith to the level of a fairy tale if we cannot state with certainty that every story in the Bible is historically accurate. But perhaps the open-endedness of myth is the only way mankind can connect with the Infinite. And perhaps that same open-endedness will serve to weed out those whose quest for certainty and rules is less about that connection than it is about attempting to control God.
And maybe the Bible would once again inspire Christians as powerfully as Star Trek inspires Trekkies.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Miscellany
A few random things that have caught my attention lately...
1. First, a belated nod to this post that nicely sums up why Jon Stewart has become my favorite TV personality. If only there were more journalists ("serious" or otherwise) like him.
2. Ten Cliches Christians Should Never Use. Seriously. Some of these made me cringe even when I was a card-carrying conservative evangelical.
3. Rachel Evans reviews a book I really need to read. Learning how to read the Bible on its own terms instead of literally has only made me love it more, so I'm happy to see more Christians waking up to the folly of treating it like a modern history book and instruction manual.
4. Finally, this picture, which could also be the motto of the religious right...
1. First, a belated nod to this post that nicely sums up why Jon Stewart has become my favorite TV personality. If only there were more journalists ("serious" or otherwise) like him.
2. Ten Cliches Christians Should Never Use. Seriously. Some of these made me cringe even when I was a card-carrying conservative evangelical.
3. Rachel Evans reviews a book I really need to read. Learning how to read the Bible on its own terms instead of literally has only made me love it more, so I'm happy to see more Christians waking up to the folly of treating it like a modern history book and instruction manual.
4. Finally, this picture, which could also be the motto of the religious right...
Monday, May 28, 2012
Exodus
No, not that Exodus. Instead, here's an insightful article on ways that Christians drive people away from the church:
8 Ways Christian Fundamentalists Make People Convert
As Points 2 and 6 touch on, it's not just about bad behavior on the part of far too many Christians - it's often about a system of belief that forces people to abandon critical thinking and to dismiss any scientific discovery that contradicts "The Bible." That false dichotomy often remains so deeply embedded in the minds of ex-fundamentalists that they continue to believe that the Bible must be taken absolutely literally or dismissed entirely - a mindset I've come across more than a few times in the comment sections of other blogs.
Those of us who understand that one can believe in God - and that He/She/They in some way inspired the authors who wrote the Bible - without abandoning reason share the frustration of the article's author. As long as Christian fundamentalism remains a potent force in American culture there's no simple solution to the problem. But perhaps in the larger picture it's necessary that the current situation plays out to its logical conclusion before Christianity's healthier strains can regain control of the conversation and rebuild the church on a firmer foundation.
8 Ways Christian Fundamentalists Make People Convert
As Points 2 and 6 touch on, it's not just about bad behavior on the part of far too many Christians - it's often about a system of belief that forces people to abandon critical thinking and to dismiss any scientific discovery that contradicts "The Bible." That false dichotomy often remains so deeply embedded in the minds of ex-fundamentalists that they continue to believe that the Bible must be taken absolutely literally or dismissed entirely - a mindset I've come across more than a few times in the comment sections of other blogs.
Those of us who understand that one can believe in God - and that He/She/They in some way inspired the authors who wrote the Bible - without abandoning reason share the frustration of the article's author. As long as Christian fundamentalism remains a potent force in American culture there's no simple solution to the problem. But perhaps in the larger picture it's necessary that the current situation plays out to its logical conclusion before Christianity's healthier strains can regain control of the conversation and rebuild the church on a firmer foundation.
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Apocalypse
This week I came across news of a new book being published that takes a scholarly look at the Book of Revelation. It occurred to me that, for all the time I once spent studying Revelation, I actually know very little about the book's history and context, and even less about the apocalyptic genre that was popular at the time it was written.
Growing up I was quite fascinated by Revelation, which I had been taught was a literal prophecy of the violent end of the world that could begin at any time. I read dozens of articles and books and heard numerous sermons speculating on the meaning of every symbol in its verses and how they might match up with current events and people. Was the Antichrist a current politician? Was the European Common Market the beast with ten horns? Was the United States the great harlot? The conjectures were endless.
By my college years I'd heard enough false predictions about Christ's return ("88 Reason Christ Will Return in '88" was far from the first - or last) to dampen my enthusiasm for the subject. The final nail in the coffin was coming across a book in the university library's annual book sale, written in the late 1930s, that predicted that Mussolini was the Antichrist. By the time the first Left Behind book was published a couple years later, I was already done with the whole sideshow.
At that time in my life I still believed there would be a literal Tribulation (whether the Rapture happened at the beginning or end) and a literal Antichrist; I'd merely come to realize that God didn't mean for us to spend so much time and energy trying to pinpoint when and how it was all going to happen. Funny how so many Biblical literalists over the years have forgotten that Jesus himself said nobody would know when he was returning. Actually, it's more sad than funny.
Over the years since college, I've gradually come to see how a literal interpretation of Revelation has encouraged (or at least highlighted) so many of the worst traits that are commonly associated with American evangelicalism:
-A heavy focus on the next life (which we may be whisked away to at any moment) that leaves us disinclined - and even unable - to truly engage in this one.
-An "us versus them" mentality, in which "them" is everyone fated to take the Mark of the Beast.
-An arrogant attitude toward everyone in the "them" category.
-A view of Jesus as a macho, violent warrior with no qualms about killing anyone who doesn't believe the right things about him.
-An inclination to look for (and find) persecution around every corner.
-A lack of concern for making this world a better place, since we could be saying goodbye to it at any moment.
-A tendency to caricaturize every political opponent as a potential Antichrist.
-An all-absorbing fascination with scouring every world event for signs of the end times.
-A belief that our support for Israel requires absolute and unquestioned support for every action it takes even if it leads to endless preemptive war against the entire Muslim world.
-A mandate to proselytize aggressively in a manipulative, fear-based manner.
-A fixation on sin avoidance.
-A propensity to spend millions of dollars on mediocre books and fourth-rate movies and then praise them for their "message."
Not that Revelation itself (or John of Patmos) is to blame for the many ways in which our misinterpretations of its rich imagery have transformed the faith of many into a tragic parody of the message of Christ found in the Gospels. But in that same vein, perhaps Revelation does us a favor (even before we mine its depths for the riches we have overlooked for so long) by forcing us to confront the folly of interpreting the Bible in an overly literal manner rather than letting it speak to us on its own terms.
Growing up I was quite fascinated by Revelation, which I had been taught was a literal prophecy of the violent end of the world that could begin at any time. I read dozens of articles and books and heard numerous sermons speculating on the meaning of every symbol in its verses and how they might match up with current events and people. Was the Antichrist a current politician? Was the European Common Market the beast with ten horns? Was the United States the great harlot? The conjectures were endless.
By my college years I'd heard enough false predictions about Christ's return ("88 Reason Christ Will Return in '88" was far from the first - or last) to dampen my enthusiasm for the subject. The final nail in the coffin was coming across a book in the university library's annual book sale, written in the late 1930s, that predicted that Mussolini was the Antichrist. By the time the first Left Behind book was published a couple years later, I was already done with the whole sideshow.
At that time in my life I still believed there would be a literal Tribulation (whether the Rapture happened at the beginning or end) and a literal Antichrist; I'd merely come to realize that God didn't mean for us to spend so much time and energy trying to pinpoint when and how it was all going to happen. Funny how so many Biblical literalists over the years have forgotten that Jesus himself said nobody would know when he was returning. Actually, it's more sad than funny.
Over the years since college, I've gradually come to see how a literal interpretation of Revelation has encouraged (or at least highlighted) so many of the worst traits that are commonly associated with American evangelicalism:
-A heavy focus on the next life (which we may be whisked away to at any moment) that leaves us disinclined - and even unable - to truly engage in this one.
-An "us versus them" mentality, in which "them" is everyone fated to take the Mark of the Beast.
-An arrogant attitude toward everyone in the "them" category.
-A view of Jesus as a macho, violent warrior with no qualms about killing anyone who doesn't believe the right things about him.
-An inclination to look for (and find) persecution around every corner.
-A lack of concern for making this world a better place, since we could be saying goodbye to it at any moment.
-A tendency to caricaturize every political opponent as a potential Antichrist.
-An all-absorbing fascination with scouring every world event for signs of the end times.
-A belief that our support for Israel requires absolute and unquestioned support for every action it takes even if it leads to endless preemptive war against the entire Muslim world.
-A mandate to proselytize aggressively in a manipulative, fear-based manner.
-A fixation on sin avoidance.
-A propensity to spend millions of dollars on mediocre books and fourth-rate movies and then praise them for their "message."
Not that Revelation itself (or John of Patmos) is to blame for the many ways in which our misinterpretations of its rich imagery have transformed the faith of many into a tragic parody of the message of Christ found in the Gospels. But in that same vein, perhaps Revelation does us a favor (even before we mine its depths for the riches we have overlooked for so long) by forcing us to confront the folly of interpreting the Bible in an overly literal manner rather than letting it speak to us on its own terms.
Saturday, February 04, 2012
Links
It's been a busy week in the blogosphere - not here, perhaps, but elsewhere. Here are a few pieces that resonated with me...
1. Rachel Held Evans slides down the slippery slope, and discovers a far different destination than the one she'd been told she was headed toward.
2. Speaking of different destinations, a former Exodus leader finds change and freedom - just not the change and freedom Exodus likes to proclaim.
3. Tired of people who use the world "biblical" to shut down debate over their agendas? So am I, and so is this guy. (Hat tip to Craig)
4. Finally, if this post describes your evangelism style, please reconsider...
1. Rachel Held Evans slides down the slippery slope, and discovers a far different destination than the one she'd been told she was headed toward.
2. Speaking of different destinations, a former Exodus leader finds change and freedom - just not the change and freedom Exodus likes to proclaim.
3. Tired of people who use the world "biblical" to shut down debate over their agendas? So am I, and so is this guy. (Hat tip to Craig)
4. Finally, if this post describes your evangelism style, please reconsider...
Friday, November 05, 2010
Maturity
[I]f we were studying the Bible together over a period of time, we could trace the maturation process among biblical writers regarding God's character. In some passages, God appears violent, retaliatory, given to favoritism, and careless of human life. But over time, the image of God that predominates is gentle rather than cruel, compassionate rather than violent, fair to all rather than biased toward some, forgiving rather than retaliatory. In this more mature view, God is not capricious, bloodthirsty, hateful, or prone to fits of vengeful rage. Rather, God loves justice, kindness, reconciliation, and pace; God's grace gets the final word.The fundamentalist God is also a being that can ultimately only be feared, not loved. Under such a deity every activity of the Christian life - worship, evangelism, charity, etc. - is an act of appeasement, driven by the need to escape unspeakable punishment (or to rescue others from that doom). Even the most conservative Christian would never verbalize it in that way, but when Hell is defined as an eternal state and salvation is viewed as the "fire insurance" that must be obtained to avoid it, declaring one's love for God becomes first and foremost an act of survival and only secondarily one of devotion.
People who are part of what is often called fundamentalism today, whether Christians, Muslims, or Jews, often find it difficult to acknowledge this kind of progression in understanding across the centuries. If anything, they feel obliged to defend and give priority to the early, raw, more primal, less-tested and -developed views of God, minimizing or marginalizing what I am calling the more mature and nuanced understandings.
So the God of the fundamentalists is a competitive warrior - always jealous of rivals and determined to drive them into defeat and disgrace. And the God of the fundamentalists is superficially exacting - demanding technical perfection in regard to ceremonial and legal matters while minimizing deeper concerns about social justice - especially where outsiders and outcasts are concerned. Similarly, the fundamentalist God is exclusive, faithfully loving one in-group and rejecting - perhaps even hating - all others.
The fundamentalist God is also deterministic - controlling rather than interacting, a mover of events but never moved by them. And finally, though the fundamentalist God may be patient for a while, he (fundamentalist versions of God tend to be very male) is ultimately violent, eventually destined to explode with unquenchable rage, condemnation, punishment, torture, and vengeance if you push him too far.
-Brian McLaren, A New Kind of Christianity, pages 101-102
In most evangelical churches the reality lies somewhere in between; the New Testament is given enough weight that God's love can sometimes be understood. But the Old Testament's God of wrath still lurks just beneath the surface, unwilling (or unable) to show any mercy to anyone who doesn't offer verbal assent to the correct creed. The perceived need for an inerrant Bible precludes the possibility that its early books might be the product of a more primitive understanding of God, rather than a timeless portrait to be placed on an equal plane with the example set by Christ.
If perfect love casts out fear, then perhaps any doctrines that lead to fear need to be reconsidered. Such growth in our theology need not suggest that God has changed, merely that our understanding of God has matured.
Thursday, September 09, 2010
Idolatry
A pitfall common to all people of faith, but recognized by far too few...
Herein lies the most obvious moral danger of religious faith. In taking themselves to be guided by divinely ordained commandments, theists may be tempted to relax the rigor with which they scrutinize their actions, and are thus capable of the most unspeakable atrocities. That is, secure in the faith that God wills a certain course of action, they may be prepared to disregard any suggestion (even from their own consciences) that this may not in fact be the morally correct thing to do. … Unfortunately, it is also often a tenet of faith that to question God is itself an immoral act, and so it can become especially difficult to correct a moral error once it has been made on these grounds. This is because the difference between questioning a command of God and questioning one’s own understanding of that command is a subtle one, not at all easily recognized, and harder yet when any doubt is seen as weakness of faith and therefore sinful in itself.…This pride is uniquely difficult to identify, for it is well cloaked in the garb of pious humility. What makes it so elusive is that it appears as a faith in God, when in reality it is a misplaced faith in one’s own judgment. It may well be that God is just and perfect and incapable of error, but we most certainly are none of these things, and to act with the firm belief that one is in perfect harmony with God’s perfectly just wishes is to lose sight of that truth. Indeed, the person who acts in this way is guilty of the greatest pride, for she puts her moral judgment on a level with God’s. She claims to know with absolute certainty that which can be known only to God. The faith here, then, is not in God at all, but in the individual’s own reliability in knowing God, and if we understand idolatry as the sin of ascribing divine significance to a human artifact, the pride involved is idolatrous when the individual believes her knowledge to be perfect in this regard.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Items of Interest
A few links to provoke thought this week...
1. An examination of the problems evangelicals face when they read the early chapters of Genesis, and how moving away from a literalistic reading of those ancient stories can deepen our understanding of the rest of the Bible.
2. What makes this travesty even more galling is the knowledge that there are people who call themselves Christians who applaud when the lives of those they deem "sinners" are ripped apart like this.
3. Speaking of such people, this is rather sad even if the only surprise is that he ever agreed to sign the thing in the first place.
4. Finally, Rob Tisinai exposes, in lurid detail, the shocking, scandalous, sinister real reason that gays want the right to get married.
1. An examination of the problems evangelicals face when they read the early chapters of Genesis, and how moving away from a literalistic reading of those ancient stories can deepen our understanding of the rest of the Bible.
2. What makes this travesty even more galling is the knowledge that there are people who call themselves Christians who applaud when the lives of those they deem "sinners" are ripped apart like this.
3. Speaking of such people, this is rather sad even if the only surprise is that he ever agreed to sign the thing in the first place.
4. Finally, Rob Tisinai exposes, in lurid detail, the shocking, scandalous, sinister real reason that gays want the right to get married.
Thursday, April 02, 2009
Upside Down
Via Andrew Sullivan, I came across this essay by Richard Grant on the relationship of faith and science. As a recovering creationist myself (an old-earth creationist since college, but a creationist all the same), I thought these two points were especially pertinent:
and
Interestingly, the ex-gay movement finds itself in a parallel dilemma. Rather than remaining open to the possibility that it might not already know it all, the evangelical church attached itself to a psychological theory that seemed to explain the phenomenon of homosexuality in a way that validated all of its dogma related to human sexuality.
Elizabeth Moberly's rehash of old Freudian ideas allowed the church to continue thinking itself compassionate as it reinforced the notion (based on a questionable interpretation of Gen. 1:27) that everyone is, at their core, heterosexual. Any deviations from that God-ordained norm were simply psychological issues that could be cleared up through proper counseling, and any evidence that this might not be accurate has been summarily dismissed and denounced as evil propaganda. No further reflection on the matter was (or would ever be) needed.
Thus the ex-gay movement was founded on the assumption that all homosexuals could develop heterosexual attractions, given the right tools. Since homosexuality was defined as an unnatural twisting of an individual's true nature, it followed that same-sex relationships could never be healthy or stable, and that gays could never be truly happy unless they renounced that 'false' identity in favor of naming and claiming their God-given heterosexuality.
As time has shown that the vast majority of homosexuals cannot change their attractions, and as the scientific evidence has increasingly pointed toward biological factors as the predominant determinants of one's sexual orientation, Exodus and its allies have found themselves trapped between a rock and a hard place. Having tied their theology so closely to a specific theory about the cause and mutability of homosexuality, many within the the ex-gay movement have come to conflate discarding those mistaken ideas with rejection of the Christian faith altogether.
Thus we now witness the spectacle of ex-gay spokespersons engaging in rhetorical acrobatics to deny that "change," "heterosexuality" and the rest of their catchphrases mean what they seem to mean, even as they stubbornly refuse to plainly state what they actually mean. To do otherwise would require admitting that they were wrong about some very significant things - and humility has never been an abundant commodity within American evangelicalism.
Nonetheless, there are ex-gay leaders who have publicly acknowledged their error without abandoning their faith. Some of them have even maintained a more traditional Christian stance on sexuality even as they have adapted their programs to better reflect the realities of what it means to be a gay Christian living under that belief system. That the leadership of Exodus is too proud to do the same suggests that they have invested far too much in being right to effectively help those they claim to be here to serve.
I’m not saying that faith fails to be faith if there’s proof. I’m saying that if your ‘proof’ is shown to be false then you’re utterly screwed. So if you tie your faith to a ‘proof’ you actually end up trying to prove that your proof is true, rather than seeking out ‘truth’. Which is the cleft stick Creationists find themselves in.
and
What happens when those you trust are shown not just to be wrong, but deceitful? Those people who told you that the creation story in Genesis is literally true, that there really was a global flood that killed every living being, that the Revelation is a literal account of the end of the world — and who make those things necessary items of faith — what do you do when you realize they were lying to you (intentionally or otherwise)?
Interestingly, the ex-gay movement finds itself in a parallel dilemma. Rather than remaining open to the possibility that it might not already know it all, the evangelical church attached itself to a psychological theory that seemed to explain the phenomenon of homosexuality in a way that validated all of its dogma related to human sexuality.
Elizabeth Moberly's rehash of old Freudian ideas allowed the church to continue thinking itself compassionate as it reinforced the notion (based on a questionable interpretation of Gen. 1:27) that everyone is, at their core, heterosexual. Any deviations from that God-ordained norm were simply psychological issues that could be cleared up through proper counseling, and any evidence that this might not be accurate has been summarily dismissed and denounced as evil propaganda. No further reflection on the matter was (or would ever be) needed.
Thus the ex-gay movement was founded on the assumption that all homosexuals could develop heterosexual attractions, given the right tools. Since homosexuality was defined as an unnatural twisting of an individual's true nature, it followed that same-sex relationships could never be healthy or stable, and that gays could never be truly happy unless they renounced that 'false' identity in favor of naming and claiming their God-given heterosexuality.
As time has shown that the vast majority of homosexuals cannot change their attractions, and as the scientific evidence has increasingly pointed toward biological factors as the predominant determinants of one's sexual orientation, Exodus and its allies have found themselves trapped between a rock and a hard place. Having tied their theology so closely to a specific theory about the cause and mutability of homosexuality, many within the the ex-gay movement have come to conflate discarding those mistaken ideas with rejection of the Christian faith altogether.
Thus we now witness the spectacle of ex-gay spokespersons engaging in rhetorical acrobatics to deny that "change," "heterosexuality" and the rest of their catchphrases mean what they seem to mean, even as they stubbornly refuse to plainly state what they actually mean. To do otherwise would require admitting that they were wrong about some very significant things - and humility has never been an abundant commodity within American evangelicalism.
Nonetheless, there are ex-gay leaders who have publicly acknowledged their error without abandoning their faith. Some of them have even maintained a more traditional Christian stance on sexuality even as they have adapted their programs to better reflect the realities of what it means to be a gay Christian living under that belief system. That the leadership of Exodus is too proud to do the same suggests that they have invested far too much in being right to effectively help those they claim to be here to serve.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Chapter and Verse
Real Live Preacher has written a thought-provoking essay on the violence that so many conservative pastors do to the faith of their congregants in the cause of studying (and "believing") the Bible. When we treat the Bible like a rulebook, it almost inevitably follows that the context of any passage we seek to extract a rule from becomes secondary to our quest for concrete answers, if it matters at all.
Perhaps part of the problem lies in our tendency to read the Bible as though it were a collection of individual verses. When Medieval scholars first divided the books of the Old and New Testaments into chapters and verses, their intent was to create a useful indexing system for quickly referring to particular passages. And it is indeed difficult to imagine studying and discussing the Bible without such a helpful tool.
Their work has, unfortunately, had the unintended side effect of altering how we approach the Bible. Those chapter headings and verse markers that make it so easy to pinpoint specific items also make it more difficult to see the books of the Bible as organic wholes. When a chapter ends, we stop reading until our next study session. We memorize individual verses or sets of verses as though they were self-contained units of instruction. The Bible's broader themes may not be entirely lost on us, but it becomes far more difficult to keep sight of the forest when one's attention is repeatedly diverted toward specific trees.
Taken as individual units, many of the Bible's verses begin to look like encyclopedic entries. Our longing for a life free of uncertainty and difficult choices spurs us to recombine those verses into a rulebook that, properly followed, might release us from the burden of personal responsibility and the consequences of ill-chosen actions. The verses that don't fit into our new encyclopedia are allowed to remain, but we pay little further attention to them.
When application of those rules produces mixed results, or even harm, it becomes the fault of those harmed, since the rules themselves were "biblical" and therefore beyond reproach. Thus we reap the consequences of our dream of a life free from consequences, as the faith of many is battered and destroyed by the dictates we proclaim as God's commands.
The Bible, once a God-breathed (and therefore living) vessel, becomes a Frankenstein's monster of dissected and recombined parts, the life that once flowed through its words long gone. The role of the Holy Spirit is reduced to that of a glorified tour guide, the Infinite constrained from doing anything that isn't sanctioned by the finite. The book meant to point us toward the one we worship instead becomes the subconscious object of our worship.
Not that our idolatry and legalism can all be laid at the feet of those Medieval men who simply wanted to make it easier to study the Bible. Their work may have enabled us as we acted on tendencies that were already within ourselves, but ultimately only we are responsible for our actions, even if we did invoke God's name in the process.
Changing the way we view and study the Bible may entail a lifetime of learning (and unlearning). Truly knowing the Bible is so much more than being able to recite its verses, more than being able to discuss -isms and -ologies constructed from its teachings, and certainly more than being able to wield it like a club against those we view as sinners. Getting to know the Bible is not unlike getting to know a person; it happens slowly over time, through hundreds of conversations and often in defiance of any formulas intended to build relationship. Mere recitation of biographical facts says little about how well one actually knows a person.
And just as each person we meet can teach us a little more about God, so can each book of the Bible. But not in the declarative, authoritarian way we so often wish it would. There's beauty and untold mysteries waiting to be discovered, if we're willing to set aside our own agenda and take the time to find them.
Perhaps part of the problem lies in our tendency to read the Bible as though it were a collection of individual verses. When Medieval scholars first divided the books of the Old and New Testaments into chapters and verses, their intent was to create a useful indexing system for quickly referring to particular passages. And it is indeed difficult to imagine studying and discussing the Bible without such a helpful tool.
Their work has, unfortunately, had the unintended side effect of altering how we approach the Bible. Those chapter headings and verse markers that make it so easy to pinpoint specific items also make it more difficult to see the books of the Bible as organic wholes. When a chapter ends, we stop reading until our next study session. We memorize individual verses or sets of verses as though they were self-contained units of instruction. The Bible's broader themes may not be entirely lost on us, but it becomes far more difficult to keep sight of the forest when one's attention is repeatedly diverted toward specific trees.
Taken as individual units, many of the Bible's verses begin to look like encyclopedic entries. Our longing for a life free of uncertainty and difficult choices spurs us to recombine those verses into a rulebook that, properly followed, might release us from the burden of personal responsibility and the consequences of ill-chosen actions. The verses that don't fit into our new encyclopedia are allowed to remain, but we pay little further attention to them.
When application of those rules produces mixed results, or even harm, it becomes the fault of those harmed, since the rules themselves were "biblical" and therefore beyond reproach. Thus we reap the consequences of our dream of a life free from consequences, as the faith of many is battered and destroyed by the dictates we proclaim as God's commands.
The Bible, once a God-breathed (and therefore living) vessel, becomes a Frankenstein's monster of dissected and recombined parts, the life that once flowed through its words long gone. The role of the Holy Spirit is reduced to that of a glorified tour guide, the Infinite constrained from doing anything that isn't sanctioned by the finite. The book meant to point us toward the one we worship instead becomes the subconscious object of our worship.
Not that our idolatry and legalism can all be laid at the feet of those Medieval men who simply wanted to make it easier to study the Bible. Their work may have enabled us as we acted on tendencies that were already within ourselves, but ultimately only we are responsible for our actions, even if we did invoke God's name in the process.
Changing the way we view and study the Bible may entail a lifetime of learning (and unlearning). Truly knowing the Bible is so much more than being able to recite its verses, more than being able to discuss -isms and -ologies constructed from its teachings, and certainly more than being able to wield it like a club against those we view as sinners. Getting to know the Bible is not unlike getting to know a person; it happens slowly over time, through hundreds of conversations and often in defiance of any formulas intended to build relationship. Mere recitation of biographical facts says little about how well one actually knows a person.
And just as each person we meet can teach us a little more about God, so can each book of the Bible. But not in the declarative, authoritarian way we so often wish it would. There's beauty and untold mysteries waiting to be discovered, if we're willing to set aside our own agenda and take the time to find them.
Saturday, January 03, 2009
Approach
One of the topics that Doug Pagitt tackles in A Christianity Worth Believing is the issue of biblical literalism. I've addressed the problems with treating the Bible as a rulebook on enough occasions that there's little reason to repeat those arguments here, but Pagitt throws an interesting twist into the discussion:
It's nothing new to point out how inconsistent most conservative Christians are when it comes to teaching and obeying biblical commands; divorce and remarriage comes immediately to mind, as does greed. Some sins really are worse than others in the eyes of many Christians who publicly insist that all sins are equally bad, and the most plausible explanation is that they're allowing their personal feelings to influence their theology to at least some extent.
I've witnessed, on more than one occasion, the faces of otherwise warm and hospitable individuals twist in disgust when the issue of homosexuality came up. Had they known that not everyone around them was heterosexual they almost certainly would have tempered their reaction. It was, however, far more instructional to witness their honest feelings on the subject - feelings too visceral to be adequately explained by the existence of several Bible verses that appear to condemn homosexual behavior.
In answer to Pagitt's query I suspect that the conservative evangelicals I know would believe in biblical inerrancy even if the Bible were explicitly gay friendly. Whether their opinions about homosexuality would actually be any different is a separate issue; for many it probably would make a difference. For the rest, it's never too difficult for those who see the Bible as as rulebook to read whatever rules they want to find into the text, all the while insisting that they're simply repeating what the Bible says.
I've come to believe that this battle has little to do with the Bible and more to do with certain beliefs many Christians want to keep intact. The Bible becomes justification for their position. This is particularly true on the topics such as homosexuality and the role of women.
I know that saying this is going to raise some hackles, but I think there are people who argue for an "inerrant" authoritative understanding of the Bible to support their prejudiced feelings about homosexuals. I know they would deny it, and they have done so to me many times. They would argue that it works the other way - the Bible teaches certain ideas about homosexuality, so that's what they believe.
Maybe so. But it just seems so odd that their beliefs on other biblical topics are not so pronounced. I have rarely had a conversation about the ills of gossip based on the authority of the Bible. I've had even fewer conversations in which people suggest the church should be actively working to eliminate obesity as a form of gluttony because the Bible clearly condemns it. Nor are people concerned about slander simply because Paul warns against it. And despite the Bible's deep and continual concern for the poor, I rarely have conversations in which people use the authority of the Bible to make a case for economic justice.
But on the issue of homosexuality, something strange happens. If the subject at hand is the authority of the Bible, someone invariably asks what I think about homosexuality. If the subject is homosexuality, someone invariably asks what I think about the authority of the Bible. There must be some connection. It makes me wonder if people would argue about the authority of the Bible if it had nothing to say about homosexuality. [pages 63-64]
It's nothing new to point out how inconsistent most conservative Christians are when it comes to teaching and obeying biblical commands; divorce and remarriage comes immediately to mind, as does greed. Some sins really are worse than others in the eyes of many Christians who publicly insist that all sins are equally bad, and the most plausible explanation is that they're allowing their personal feelings to influence their theology to at least some extent.
I've witnessed, on more than one occasion, the faces of otherwise warm and hospitable individuals twist in disgust when the issue of homosexuality came up. Had they known that not everyone around them was heterosexual they almost certainly would have tempered their reaction. It was, however, far more instructional to witness their honest feelings on the subject - feelings too visceral to be adequately explained by the existence of several Bible verses that appear to condemn homosexual behavior.
In answer to Pagitt's query I suspect that the conservative evangelicals I know would believe in biblical inerrancy even if the Bible were explicitly gay friendly. Whether their opinions about homosexuality would actually be any different is a separate issue; for many it probably would make a difference. For the rest, it's never too difficult for those who see the Bible as as rulebook to read whatever rules they want to find into the text, all the while insisting that they're simply repeating what the Bible says.
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
Reformulation
I recently finished reading Doug Pagitt's latest book, A Christianity Worth Believing. Like most books by leaders in the emergent church (Brian McLaren, Spencer Burke, etc.), Pagitt challenges his audience to reimagine what the church needs to look like to remain relevant in 21st century society.
Also like his peers, Pagitt never directly answers the questions that he raises, settling instead for sharing stories that illustrate his ideas. While some may find that lack of concrete instructions frustrating, it does have the virtue of encouraging the reader to think without dictating what conclusions one is supposed to reach.
Perhaps most valuably, Burke goes into greater depth than his colleagues have in highlighting the Greek worldview that has underpinned the majority of Christian theology for nearly 2,000 years. So many of the things we assume about God and the universe are based less on what the biblical authors actually said and more on how the Gentile believers of the early church interpreted the Bible in a way that made sense within the worldview they brought with them into the church.
One example of this is our notion of a static and unchanging God who exists outside of time. Though most Christians today regard this idea (which originated with Aristotle) as sacrosanct and any other viewpoint as heretical, the Bible repeatedly portrays God as being far more relational, experiencing the flow of time and even capable of changing his mind.
We have also inherited (from Plato) the dualistic notion that everything physical (the "flesh") is inherently corrupt and that everything spiritual is perfect. Plato is also where we get the idea that Eden was perfect prior to Adam and Eve's sin, when in Genesis 1 God merely refers to his creation as "good." By viewing the world around us as hopelessly bad, we have developed a theology that sees this life merely as something to be endured while we wait for the next life. Meeting the temporal needs of others becomes important only when it serves as a means to a more 'spiritual' end, and taking care of the rest of God's creation matters even less.
In terms of how we understand the physical universe the church has progressed slightly beyond Aristotle, but the propensity within some strains of Christian thought to view everything in strict black-and-white terms bears more resemblance to Isaac Newton's clockwork universe (and Aristotle's static, non-relational God) than it does to the far more complex universe that physicists and astronomers have uncovered since Newton's time.
That's not to suggest that science should trump all other considerations in our theology, but if we are so blind to our own presuppositions that new information is not allowed to inform our understanding of God and how he relates to us, we risk becoming a historical footnote, like medieval doctors who treated their patients with leeches and animal dung.
The "liberal" label is often hurled as an epithet at those who strive to separate their own cultural presuppositions from their interpretation of the Bible. Those doing the name calling insist that the Bible must transcend human culture altogether, or it will be completely irrelevant. Yet the Bible never comes truly alive until we set aside such false dichotomies and stop treating it as though it were a rulebook.
That discovery, however, can only come when we are willing to make an effort to view the Bible through the lenses of those it was originally written for, and then do the hard work of integrating that understanding with our current knowledge of the world around us and with what the Holy Spirit is trying to tell us through other means.
The wisdom we gain may not seem as satisfying at first, since it doesn't give us the list of concrete instructions that we crave (both to take control over our own lives and to dictate to those around us). It can even make our lives harder in some ways, as it humbles us by opening our eyes to how little we really know. But it's only through such humility that God can speak to us in ways that are relevant to situations that the authors of the Bible couldn't have imagined.
Also like his peers, Pagitt never directly answers the questions that he raises, settling instead for sharing stories that illustrate his ideas. While some may find that lack of concrete instructions frustrating, it does have the virtue of encouraging the reader to think without dictating what conclusions one is supposed to reach.
Perhaps most valuably, Burke goes into greater depth than his colleagues have in highlighting the Greek worldview that has underpinned the majority of Christian theology for nearly 2,000 years. So many of the things we assume about God and the universe are based less on what the biblical authors actually said and more on how the Gentile believers of the early church interpreted the Bible in a way that made sense within the worldview they brought with them into the church.
One example of this is our notion of a static and unchanging God who exists outside of time. Though most Christians today regard this idea (which originated with Aristotle) as sacrosanct and any other viewpoint as heretical, the Bible repeatedly portrays God as being far more relational, experiencing the flow of time and even capable of changing his mind.
We have also inherited (from Plato) the dualistic notion that everything physical (the "flesh") is inherently corrupt and that everything spiritual is perfect. Plato is also where we get the idea that Eden was perfect prior to Adam and Eve's sin, when in Genesis 1 God merely refers to his creation as "good." By viewing the world around us as hopelessly bad, we have developed a theology that sees this life merely as something to be endured while we wait for the next life. Meeting the temporal needs of others becomes important only when it serves as a means to a more 'spiritual' end, and taking care of the rest of God's creation matters even less.
In terms of how we understand the physical universe the church has progressed slightly beyond Aristotle, but the propensity within some strains of Christian thought to view everything in strict black-and-white terms bears more resemblance to Isaac Newton's clockwork universe (and Aristotle's static, non-relational God) than it does to the far more complex universe that physicists and astronomers have uncovered since Newton's time.
That's not to suggest that science should trump all other considerations in our theology, but if we are so blind to our own presuppositions that new information is not allowed to inform our understanding of God and how he relates to us, we risk becoming a historical footnote, like medieval doctors who treated their patients with leeches and animal dung.
The "liberal" label is often hurled as an epithet at those who strive to separate their own cultural presuppositions from their interpretation of the Bible. Those doing the name calling insist that the Bible must transcend human culture altogether, or it will be completely irrelevant. Yet the Bible never comes truly alive until we set aside such false dichotomies and stop treating it as though it were a rulebook.
That discovery, however, can only come when we are willing to make an effort to view the Bible through the lenses of those it was originally written for, and then do the hard work of integrating that understanding with our current knowledge of the world around us and with what the Holy Spirit is trying to tell us through other means.
The wisdom we gain may not seem as satisfying at first, since it doesn't give us the list of concrete instructions that we crave (both to take control over our own lives and to dictate to those around us). It can even make our lives harder in some ways, as it humbles us by opening our eyes to how little we really know. But it's only through such humility that God can speak to us in ways that are relevant to situations that the authors of the Bible couldn't have imagined.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Noteworthy
1. I rarely put much stock in political candidates from either party, given that all they tend to disagree on is which aspects of our lives the government should run for us (and/or to what extent), but I will admit to being impressed by Barack Obama's recent speech in response to the controversy over his pastor's racist sermon. It's rare to hear a politician say something that nuanced. Transcript here, YouTube video here.
2. David from Resolving Realities has a very good essay up that underlines the problem with the "Bible as rulebook" approach to life while addressing the dilemma of how we reconcile the horrors of life with a loving God.
3. The ever-graceful Pam shares her perspective as an educator on how the issue of homosexuality is addressed in public schools. Something tells me she won't be getting invited to any Focus on the Family shindigs in the near future.
4. Finally, it's back. After an entire year of waiting, the best show on television returns two weeks from today...
2. David from Resolving Realities has a very good essay up that underlines the problem with the "Bible as rulebook" approach to life while addressing the dilemma of how we reconcile the horrors of life with a loving God.
3. The ever-graceful Pam shares her perspective as an educator on how the issue of homosexuality is addressed in public schools. Something tells me she won't be getting invited to any Focus on the Family shindigs in the near future.
4. Finally, it's back. After an entire year of waiting, the best show on television returns two weeks from today...
Sunday, May 20, 2007
The Letter of the Law
Originally posted at Ex-Gay Watch
Read through the materials of just about any Christian organization that speaks out against gay relationships, and you'll almost certainly find reference to Leviticus 18:22. The wordings of our English translations of the verse appear very clear, and at face value lend weight to those groups' political crusade against gay rights. One can, after all, hardly speak positively about anything that God called an 'abomination.'
Of course, there are many other 'abominations' listed in the Old Testament, shellfish being the most famous example, so conservative theologians have been forced to refine their arguments to explain why some of Moses' commands are still applicable today and some are not. To facilitate this, a third category was added to the Law; in addition to the ceremonial laws and the purity laws, they argued, there are also universal moral laws.
Whereas the ceremonial and purity laws are easily distinguishable based on context, the primary criterion for determining whether a command falls into the universal moral law is whether it appears to be something that most Christians would agree ought to be considered wrong under any circumstances. Since such acts as murder, theft, adultery and incest are clearly wrong regardless of whether one is an observant Jew, then commands found against those activities must be exceptions to the freedom that the New Testament grants Christians from the Law.
The problem with this approach is that it requires one to pick individual verses out of the Pentateuch while in many cases ignoring other verses immediately before and after. Not in every case - one can make a reasonable case for placing the Ten Commandments in the category of universal law, and few Christians would dispute such a claim - but even here we have a command (observing the Sabbath) that carries little or no weight in many churches.
Of course, the Ten Commandments say nothing about homosexuality, unless one makes the questionable stretch of expanding the definition of 'adultery' far enough to include it. Such a stretch is necessary, we are told, because one wouldn't want to be forced to defend acts of incest and bestiality just because they weren't specifically mentioned in the Ten Commandments.
Conservatives do have one option for supplementing the seventh commandment ("you shall not commit adultery") without cherry-picking individual verses; Leviticus contains two chapters (18 and 20) filled with prohibitions that even many outside the faith would agree with: adultery, various forms of incest, bestiality, human sacrifice and, of course, (male) homosexual sex. Chapter 19 has to be excluded from this context, due to the hodgepodge of odd commands it contains, but one can always go back to cherry-picking to rescue its one relevant command ("Love your neighbor as yourself").
Unfortunately, we're still left with one odd prohibition in the mix: Lev. 18:19 and its echo in 20:18, which forbids a man from sleeping with a woman during her period. Some modern-day Christians probably aren't even aware of this command, and it's certainly not taken seriously by the majority of those that are. But contextually it cannot be separated from the rest of the commands in those chapters; in chapter 18 it falls between the commands against incest and adultery, and in chapter 20 in the middle of the incest prohibitions.
Granted, offenders don't receive the death penalty, but exile was only a marginally better fate in ancient times. Exile was also the punishment for several different forms of incest, so clearly this command isn't to be taken any less seriously just because the death penalty isn't called for. And granted, it isn't repeated in Deuteronomy (as most of the commands in Leviticus are), but neither is the prohibition against men lying with men unless one ties it to the command against male and female "holy ones" (Deut. 23:17). Since such a connection would place the Old Testament's only direct reference to homosexuality firmly within the context of pagan fertility rites, it's clear that we can't afford to put too much weight on what is and isn't repeated in Deuteronomy.
And the command against sex during menstruation is mentioned elsewhere in the Bible; Ezekiel does so twice (Ezek. 18:6 and 22:10), both times in conjunction with other moral issues (adultery, incest, idolatry and various economic injustices). No doubt the first instinct of most readers would be to dismiss this particular command as a relic from the purity laws, but the contexts it's mentioned in rule out that possibility.
Some might argue that having sex with a woman during her period must not be a big deal since it wasn't mentioned in the New Testament, but bestiality isn't mentioned there either, and it's hard to imagine bestiality advocates finding many supporters within the church. Furthermore, as we so frequently hear in the debate over homosexuality, just because an issue wasn't mentioned by Jesus (or, for that matter, Paul) doesn't mean it's unimportant. The authors of the New Testament may simply have considered it so obvious that didn't need to be repeated to their audience. In fact, they probably did; most premodern societies contained strong taboos against sleeping with a woman during her period.
Defenders of the sex-with-my-wife-whenever-we-want-it lifestyle would probably fall back on the biblical principle that "the marriage bed is undefiled" to defend their proclivities, but allowing generalized principles to override clearly stated biblical commands opens the door to a potentially endless flood of exceptions and qualifications. A law like this one may not make sense to us right now, but surely God would not issue a command without good reason. If we truly believe that the Bible contains explicit instructions for how we are to order our lives, then the believer's duty is to obey every one of God's commands even if we never understand why in this lifetime.
And some researchers have determined that sex during menstruation may have negative side effects. Some others may disagree, but again, God undoubtedly has a good reason for issuing a prohibition.
Furthermore, church tradition was unanimous on this issue all the way into the mid-19th century. Many of the church fathers and major theologians, including Jerome, Clement of Alexandria, Augustine, St. John Chrysostom and Thomas Aquinas condemned the practice, and none tried to defend it. It's only in modern times that some Christians have begun to go astray and abandon this universally-held position.
Or could it be that combing through Leviticus for relevant commands causes us to miss the point entirely? Perhaps, by creating arbitrary categories within the Law to satisfy our desire for a rules-based approach to faith, we run afoul of Paul's admonition in Galatians 3:10-12:
As followers of Christ we are free from the Law - all of the Law - not because morality is unimportant but because morality is diminished when we reduce it to an arbitrary set of rules. True Christian morality flows outward from the heart; one can appear devout on the surface, consistently obeying every last command issued by their church, and secretly remain an enemy of God. One can even use the letter of the law to justify actions that blatantly violate its spirit.
And strict adherence to the "plain language" of the Bible has caused problems of its own. American and European defenders of the institution of slavery had the letter of the law on their side whenever the Bible was brought into the debate, while abolitionists were forced to argue from abstract principles, yet how many Christians today would defend the notion that slavery is ever acceptable?
That still leaves plenty of room for debating what does and doesn't fall within the bounds of Christian ethics, but if some of the commands in Leviticus are central to that discussion, then all of them are - shellfish, management of slaves, menstrual cycles and all. Jesus may not have abolished the Law, but he did fulfill its requirements and free us from them all the same.
Read through the materials of just about any Christian organization that speaks out against gay relationships, and you'll almost certainly find reference to Leviticus 18:22. The wordings of our English translations of the verse appear very clear, and at face value lend weight to those groups' political crusade against gay rights. One can, after all, hardly speak positively about anything that God called an 'abomination.'
Of course, there are many other 'abominations' listed in the Old Testament, shellfish being the most famous example, so conservative theologians have been forced to refine their arguments to explain why some of Moses' commands are still applicable today and some are not. To facilitate this, a third category was added to the Law; in addition to the ceremonial laws and the purity laws, they argued, there are also universal moral laws.
Whereas the ceremonial and purity laws are easily distinguishable based on context, the primary criterion for determining whether a command falls into the universal moral law is whether it appears to be something that most Christians would agree ought to be considered wrong under any circumstances. Since such acts as murder, theft, adultery and incest are clearly wrong regardless of whether one is an observant Jew, then commands found against those activities must be exceptions to the freedom that the New Testament grants Christians from the Law.
The problem with this approach is that it requires one to pick individual verses out of the Pentateuch while in many cases ignoring other verses immediately before and after. Not in every case - one can make a reasonable case for placing the Ten Commandments in the category of universal law, and few Christians would dispute such a claim - but even here we have a command (observing the Sabbath) that carries little or no weight in many churches.
Of course, the Ten Commandments say nothing about homosexuality, unless one makes the questionable stretch of expanding the definition of 'adultery' far enough to include it. Such a stretch is necessary, we are told, because one wouldn't want to be forced to defend acts of incest and bestiality just because they weren't specifically mentioned in the Ten Commandments.
Conservatives do have one option for supplementing the seventh commandment ("you shall not commit adultery") without cherry-picking individual verses; Leviticus contains two chapters (18 and 20) filled with prohibitions that even many outside the faith would agree with: adultery, various forms of incest, bestiality, human sacrifice and, of course, (male) homosexual sex. Chapter 19 has to be excluded from this context, due to the hodgepodge of odd commands it contains, but one can always go back to cherry-picking to rescue its one relevant command ("Love your neighbor as yourself").
Unfortunately, we're still left with one odd prohibition in the mix: Lev. 18:19 and its echo in 20:18, which forbids a man from sleeping with a woman during her period. Some modern-day Christians probably aren't even aware of this command, and it's certainly not taken seriously by the majority of those that are. But contextually it cannot be separated from the rest of the commands in those chapters; in chapter 18 it falls between the commands against incest and adultery, and in chapter 20 in the middle of the incest prohibitions.
Granted, offenders don't receive the death penalty, but exile was only a marginally better fate in ancient times. Exile was also the punishment for several different forms of incest, so clearly this command isn't to be taken any less seriously just because the death penalty isn't called for. And granted, it isn't repeated in Deuteronomy (as most of the commands in Leviticus are), but neither is the prohibition against men lying with men unless one ties it to the command against male and female "holy ones" (Deut. 23:17). Since such a connection would place the Old Testament's only direct reference to homosexuality firmly within the context of pagan fertility rites, it's clear that we can't afford to put too much weight on what is and isn't repeated in Deuteronomy.
And the command against sex during menstruation is mentioned elsewhere in the Bible; Ezekiel does so twice (Ezek. 18:6 and 22:10), both times in conjunction with other moral issues (adultery, incest, idolatry and various economic injustices). No doubt the first instinct of most readers would be to dismiss this particular command as a relic from the purity laws, but the contexts it's mentioned in rule out that possibility.
Some might argue that having sex with a woman during her period must not be a big deal since it wasn't mentioned in the New Testament, but bestiality isn't mentioned there either, and it's hard to imagine bestiality advocates finding many supporters within the church. Furthermore, as we so frequently hear in the debate over homosexuality, just because an issue wasn't mentioned by Jesus (or, for that matter, Paul) doesn't mean it's unimportant. The authors of the New Testament may simply have considered it so obvious that didn't need to be repeated to their audience. In fact, they probably did; most premodern societies contained strong taboos against sleeping with a woman during her period.
Defenders of the sex-with-my-wife-whenever-we-want-it lifestyle would probably fall back on the biblical principle that "the marriage bed is undefiled" to defend their proclivities, but allowing generalized principles to override clearly stated biblical commands opens the door to a potentially endless flood of exceptions and qualifications. A law like this one may not make sense to us right now, but surely God would not issue a command without good reason. If we truly believe that the Bible contains explicit instructions for how we are to order our lives, then the believer's duty is to obey every one of God's commands even if we never understand why in this lifetime.
And some researchers have determined that sex during menstruation may have negative side effects. Some others may disagree, but again, God undoubtedly has a good reason for issuing a prohibition.
Furthermore, church tradition was unanimous on this issue all the way into the mid-19th century. Many of the church fathers and major theologians, including Jerome, Clement of Alexandria, Augustine, St. John Chrysostom and Thomas Aquinas condemned the practice, and none tried to defend it. It's only in modern times that some Christians have begun to go astray and abandon this universally-held position.
Or could it be that combing through Leviticus for relevant commands causes us to miss the point entirely? Perhaps, by creating arbitrary categories within the Law to satisfy our desire for a rules-based approach to faith, we run afoul of Paul's admonition in Galatians 3:10-12:
All who rely on observing the Law are under a curse, for it is written: "Cursed is everyone who does not continue to do everything written in the Book of the Law." Clearly no one is justified before God by the Law, because, "The righteous will live by faith." The Law is not based on faith; on the contrary, "The man who does these things will live by them."
As followers of Christ we are free from the Law - all of the Law - not because morality is unimportant but because morality is diminished when we reduce it to an arbitrary set of rules. True Christian morality flows outward from the heart; one can appear devout on the surface, consistently obeying every last command issued by their church, and secretly remain an enemy of God. One can even use the letter of the law to justify actions that blatantly violate its spirit.
And strict adherence to the "plain language" of the Bible has caused problems of its own. American and European defenders of the institution of slavery had the letter of the law on their side whenever the Bible was brought into the debate, while abolitionists were forced to argue from abstract principles, yet how many Christians today would defend the notion that slavery is ever acceptable?
That still leaves plenty of room for debating what does and doesn't fall within the bounds of Christian ethics, but if some of the commands in Leviticus are central to that discussion, then all of them are - shellfish, management of slaves, menstrual cycles and all. Jesus may not have abolished the Law, but he did fulfill its requirements and free us from them all the same.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Inerrancy
One of the more positive trends in evangelicalism in recent years is the movement toward increased dialogue and a stronger sense of unity between denominations by returning to an emphasis on the basic tenets of Christianity, as defined by the early church creeds. Christians who agree on the short list of assertions in those documents are free to disagree on other matters of doctrine.
At least in theory. In practice, all but the most liberal evangelicals still maintain a list of pet issues that, although officially regarded as nonessentials, are in practice treated as non-negotiables. Homosexuality is the most obvious example of this double standard; although no mention of it or any related topics appear in the creeds, and although the biblical passages used to condemn homosexuals are all surrounded by significant disputes over context and word translation, many evangelicals who otherwise advocate unity would still break fellowship with any Christian who disagreed with them on this issue alone.
Another issue that remains a hot button among evangelicals is that of biblical inerrancy. Although the exact definition of "inerrancy" remains open to debate, it's nonetheless an issue that conservative Christians largely agree on. Interestingly enough, though, it's not a concept that has much direct biblical support; the closest that the Bible comes to calling itself inerrant is 2 Timothy 3:16-17:
From that it's a matter of defining and extrapolating from the term "God-breathed" and reasoning that, if God was involved in the process of inspiring the authors of the various books of the Bible, he would have ensured both that what was originally written was free from error of any sort, and that the copies made of those original manuscripts would remain free from all but the most inconsequential of errors.
That still leaves a can of worms to dig through, of course. Are all of the Bible's historical accounts literally factual in the way that we keep historical records today? Should every statement made about God in poetic works like the Psalms be taken at face value as though it came from an encyclopedia, or should the authors be allowed some room for poetic license? Does inerrancy extend to the Septuagint? The manuscripts found among the Dead Sea Scrolls? The King James Version? Does it extend to the books of the New Testament, which hadn't been canonized (and in some cases hadn't yet been written) when Paul made the above statement? What about the books in the Catholic Bible that most Protestants consider apocryphal?
And that's just the tip of the iceberg. Advocates of inerrancy have answers to every objection that's been raised to their position, of course, as well as to those who disagree with them only on particulars, but in the end it's a doctrine that relies more on human reasoning than on anything actually asserted in the Bible. Most evangelicals take inerrancy for granted as a doctrine that's essential to the Christian faith, without ever realizing the irony that a belief system that views human reason as suspect and prone to deception would place so much weight on a doctrine that has its roots in human reason.
For my part, I'm not sure. Archaeological discoveries have repeatedly vindicated the existence of people, places and events mentioned in the Bible. Does that mean that Noah's flood literally covered the entire globe? I don't see why the validity my faith ought to hinge on such matters. Just because God himself does not make mistakes, it doesn't necessarily follow that he micromanages his people to the extent that most versions of inerrancy would require.
Does the Bible have to be completely error-free in the modern sense of the term to be a reliable foundation for the Christian faith? Can it still be "God-breathed and useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness" even if Genesis 1-3 doesn't provide a C-SPAN-style transcript of how God brought the world and its first inhabitants into existence?
I run the risk of conflating two separate debates here, since not all inerrantists require that the early chapters of Genesis be taken completely literally, but many of them do. One of the core concerns of inerrantists is that if the Bible is found to contain even the slightest error (or anything that could be considered 'fiction' by the modern definition), then all of it must be regarded as equally unreliable. Although that's not how the real world works, it's a very real fear in the minds of those who require absolute certainty.
I'm not ready to discard the doctrine of inerrancy, since I do see validity in some of its claims, but neither do I see it as an essential doctrine that should be used to draw the line between "true believers" and "heretics." While I understand the fears of those who advocate strongly for inerrancy (and those fears aren't completely baseless), I've also come to see how a need for absolute certainty, far from being a component of a healthy spiritual life, is in fact a sign of a weak and immature faith.
For my part, I'm willing to live with a healthy dose of uncertainty. It may not always make for a comfortable life, but when did God ever promise us one of those?
At least in theory. In practice, all but the most liberal evangelicals still maintain a list of pet issues that, although officially regarded as nonessentials, are in practice treated as non-negotiables. Homosexuality is the most obvious example of this double standard; although no mention of it or any related topics appear in the creeds, and although the biblical passages used to condemn homosexuals are all surrounded by significant disputes over context and word translation, many evangelicals who otherwise advocate unity would still break fellowship with any Christian who disagreed with them on this issue alone.
Another issue that remains a hot button among evangelicals is that of biblical inerrancy. Although the exact definition of "inerrancy" remains open to debate, it's nonetheless an issue that conservative Christians largely agree on. Interestingly enough, though, it's not a concept that has much direct biblical support; the closest that the Bible comes to calling itself inerrant is 2 Timothy 3:16-17:
All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness, so that the man of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work.
From that it's a matter of defining and extrapolating from the term "God-breathed" and reasoning that, if God was involved in the process of inspiring the authors of the various books of the Bible, he would have ensured both that what was originally written was free from error of any sort, and that the copies made of those original manuscripts would remain free from all but the most inconsequential of errors.
That still leaves a can of worms to dig through, of course. Are all of the Bible's historical accounts literally factual in the way that we keep historical records today? Should every statement made about God in poetic works like the Psalms be taken at face value as though it came from an encyclopedia, or should the authors be allowed some room for poetic license? Does inerrancy extend to the Septuagint? The manuscripts found among the Dead Sea Scrolls? The King James Version? Does it extend to the books of the New Testament, which hadn't been canonized (and in some cases hadn't yet been written) when Paul made the above statement? What about the books in the Catholic Bible that most Protestants consider apocryphal?
And that's just the tip of the iceberg. Advocates of inerrancy have answers to every objection that's been raised to their position, of course, as well as to those who disagree with them only on particulars, but in the end it's a doctrine that relies more on human reasoning than on anything actually asserted in the Bible. Most evangelicals take inerrancy for granted as a doctrine that's essential to the Christian faith, without ever realizing the irony that a belief system that views human reason as suspect and prone to deception would place so much weight on a doctrine that has its roots in human reason.
For my part, I'm not sure. Archaeological discoveries have repeatedly vindicated the existence of people, places and events mentioned in the Bible. Does that mean that Noah's flood literally covered the entire globe? I don't see why the validity my faith ought to hinge on such matters. Just because God himself does not make mistakes, it doesn't necessarily follow that he micromanages his people to the extent that most versions of inerrancy would require.
Does the Bible have to be completely error-free in the modern sense of the term to be a reliable foundation for the Christian faith? Can it still be "God-breathed and useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness" even if Genesis 1-3 doesn't provide a C-SPAN-style transcript of how God brought the world and its first inhabitants into existence?
I run the risk of conflating two separate debates here, since not all inerrantists require that the early chapters of Genesis be taken completely literally, but many of them do. One of the core concerns of inerrantists is that if the Bible is found to contain even the slightest error (or anything that could be considered 'fiction' by the modern definition), then all of it must be regarded as equally unreliable. Although that's not how the real world works, it's a very real fear in the minds of those who require absolute certainty.
I'm not ready to discard the doctrine of inerrancy, since I do see validity in some of its claims, but neither do I see it as an essential doctrine that should be used to draw the line between "true believers" and "heretics." While I understand the fears of those who advocate strongly for inerrancy (and those fears aren't completely baseless), I've also come to see how a need for absolute certainty, far from being a component of a healthy spiritual life, is in fact a sign of a weak and immature faith.
For my part, I'm willing to live with a healthy dose of uncertainty. It may not always make for a comfortable life, but when did God ever promise us one of those?
Friday, August 04, 2006
Idealism
I recently came across a statement by a pastor who, although he decries the abominable way that the religious right treats gay people ("abominable" is my paraphrase, but not out of line with his sentiments), nonetheless believes that homosexuality doesn't represent "God's best." I have no problem with his holding to that conviction, given his seemingly authentic regard for us as human beings of equal value in God's eyes (a sentiment that most evangelicals would vocalize agreement with, but that far too few seem to genuinely believe when it comes time to put their faith into action).
But I do have to question the use of the phrase "God's best." I'm a bit reluctant to do so, since many of those who use it are doing so in an effort to steer away from the "us vs. them" mentality that has tainted so much of the church's interactions with the gay community, but it is nonetheless a questionable assertion. This isn't the first time I've challenged the use of this phrase, but I think it's worth revisiting.
The first question we have to ask is whether any of us truly experience God's best in this imperfect world. We can certainly strive for such an ideal, but is it really supposed to be an "all or nothing" proposition, as conservatives strongly imply (consciously or otherwise) when they inject those words into this debate? Why, then, do we not hold people to the standard of "God's best" in other ways?
Can divorce ever be said to represent God's best for anyone's life? Yet the Bible (both Old and New Testaments) allows for divorce in certain situations, most notably infidelity. But if anything less than God's best is sin, then why would God suddenly condone one person's sin as a response to another person's sin? Isn't the lesser of two evils still evil?
Even if one dodges the question by stating that anything the Bible explicitly condones cannot be sin, that doesn't resolve the dilemma. Few rational people would tell a woman whose husband is physically abusive that she should stay with him, yet the Bible doesn't explicitly condone divorce in that situation. That divorce may not represent God's best for either the woman or her husband, but is she truly sinning by separating herself from such an unhealthy situation?
And then there's the issue of slavery. Extremely few Christians alive today or within the last century would have anything positive to say about that institution, yet for many generations Christian slaveholders used the Bible to justify their ownership of other human beings. Modern scholars would argue that Paul and the other biblical authors were meeting people where they were at while pointing toward something better, and that their toleration of a deeply ingrained institution did not represent an endorsement of it.
(They'd also argue that the institution of slavery present in ancient Rome differed greatly from the form it took in the American South, but even though some slaves in Paul's time were only temporarily so, others were born to that station or sold into it at an early age and consigned to live their lives as the property of others.)
So can involuntary slavery ever be argued to represent God's best for any individual? If anything less than God's best is sin, why would Paul have shown any leniency toward slaveholders, however culturally acceptable their practices may have been? When else are the New Testament authors soft on the topic of sin?
For that matter, why wasn't the New Testament more forceful in its declarations that men and women are equal in ability and worth? Sure, Jesus and his apostles were light years ahead of their contemporaries in their treatment of women, but surely a society that treats women as little better than property is far enough removed from "God's best" to warrant a more direct attempt at correction.
Or maybe our error lies in our theology, whether it's in our use of the phrase "God's best" or in our understanding of sin, or both. I don't know. I wish I knew, but I'm far from convinced that those who claim to know actually do.
Maybe the perfection that we demand from others isn't in line with what God requires from them. Perhaps, if we were to focus more of our energy on fulfilling our mandate to self-sacrificially serve others without reservation or condition, a lot of the 'sin' issues that preoccupy so much of our time and energy would resolve themselves in ways we never would have imagined.
Of course, now I'm the one speaking in idealistic terms.
But I do have to question the use of the phrase "God's best." I'm a bit reluctant to do so, since many of those who use it are doing so in an effort to steer away from the "us vs. them" mentality that has tainted so much of the church's interactions with the gay community, but it is nonetheless a questionable assertion. This isn't the first time I've challenged the use of this phrase, but I think it's worth revisiting.
The first question we have to ask is whether any of us truly experience God's best in this imperfect world. We can certainly strive for such an ideal, but is it really supposed to be an "all or nothing" proposition, as conservatives strongly imply (consciously or otherwise) when they inject those words into this debate? Why, then, do we not hold people to the standard of "God's best" in other ways?
Can divorce ever be said to represent God's best for anyone's life? Yet the Bible (both Old and New Testaments) allows for divorce in certain situations, most notably infidelity. But if anything less than God's best is sin, then why would God suddenly condone one person's sin as a response to another person's sin? Isn't the lesser of two evils still evil?
Even if one dodges the question by stating that anything the Bible explicitly condones cannot be sin, that doesn't resolve the dilemma. Few rational people would tell a woman whose husband is physically abusive that she should stay with him, yet the Bible doesn't explicitly condone divorce in that situation. That divorce may not represent God's best for either the woman or her husband, but is she truly sinning by separating herself from such an unhealthy situation?
And then there's the issue of slavery. Extremely few Christians alive today or within the last century would have anything positive to say about that institution, yet for many generations Christian slaveholders used the Bible to justify their ownership of other human beings. Modern scholars would argue that Paul and the other biblical authors were meeting people where they were at while pointing toward something better, and that their toleration of a deeply ingrained institution did not represent an endorsement of it.
(They'd also argue that the institution of slavery present in ancient Rome differed greatly from the form it took in the American South, but even though some slaves in Paul's time were only temporarily so, others were born to that station or sold into it at an early age and consigned to live their lives as the property of others.)
So can involuntary slavery ever be argued to represent God's best for any individual? If anything less than God's best is sin, why would Paul have shown any leniency toward slaveholders, however culturally acceptable their practices may have been? When else are the New Testament authors soft on the topic of sin?
For that matter, why wasn't the New Testament more forceful in its declarations that men and women are equal in ability and worth? Sure, Jesus and his apostles were light years ahead of their contemporaries in their treatment of women, but surely a society that treats women as little better than property is far enough removed from "God's best" to warrant a more direct attempt at correction.
Or maybe our error lies in our theology, whether it's in our use of the phrase "God's best" or in our understanding of sin, or both. I don't know. I wish I knew, but I'm far from convinced that those who claim to know actually do.
Maybe the perfection that we demand from others isn't in line with what God requires from them. Perhaps, if we were to focus more of our energy on fulfilling our mandate to self-sacrificially serve others without reservation or condition, a lot of the 'sin' issues that preoccupy so much of our time and energy would resolve themselves in ways we never would have imagined.
Of course, now I'm the one speaking in idealistic terms.
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