Jesus is, in part, what we make of him.
Because the very gospels are what:
Have been made of him.
By Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.
It ought to warn us to make Jesus, then.
With care.
With attention given to what we want him to be.
And why we would want such a Jesus, after all.
The fact that we have four distinct gospels.
Reveals, for me at least.
That God is okay with how we do this.
Yet, only four, makes it clear: there are some boundaries.
Which makes it a requirement that when.
We say something about Jesus.
We be sure to say: As I see it.
And then God's not offended, but pleased.
That we have the courage of our convictions.
To state our case as our case.
And not put words into God's mouth.
Or claim that our opinion is God's opinion, too.
What's wrong with humility?
We can state our case firmly.
But it's still our case.
What with study and prayer and consultation.
It's still our case.
And maybe God will push us in some other direction.
Sometime along the road.
And our case may change.
It's happen before.
To Saul.
And to Luther.
And to all of us.
It's a good thing we can change.
To make a case and it keep it small case.
Bearing the finitude of our thoughts and opinions.
Taking care to take care.
About what we say.
And say it with heart and mind and soul and strength.
But always open to something more.
As God makes God's case for the world.
Showing posts with label interpretation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label interpretation. Show all posts
Saturday, April 22, 2017
Friday, February 20, 2015
Troubling Texts in the Bible
Anyone else do the PCUSA lectionary this morning?
The readings from Deuteronomy and Titus proved unpleasant, not in any sort of spiritually challenging manner, but in the rawness of hatred of "the other" (Deuteronomy 7.12-16) and the imposition of "quietness" on the slave and "submission" of women to their husbands (Titus 2.1-15).
There was a time when I would engage in all sorts of exegetical/social/historical/critical gymnastics to soften these hideous passages. But that's not fair to the text - no sense in making it say something else. The text says is clear. And it's troubling to me in ways similar to hearing someone shamelessly promote the exceptionalism of the United States while banging the drums of war in order to secure global domination, or hearing those who demean others because of their race, economic status or gender.
I turn away from such people, and I turn away from such texts.
I confess that my "sacred text" suffers from these evils, and has been used to promote "righteous" war, the abuse of women and the institution of slavery.
For me, no sense in ducking the matter with sight-of-hand interpretations. These are troubling texts because they support attitudes and behaviors that have brought great harm to the world.
For me, the Spiritual Presence in our world today says something else about how to welcome and affirm "the other" and that slavery and misogyny are terrible evils. Whether it be a Martin Luther King, Jr. or an Anne Lamott, there are great and small voices lifting up the "better angeles" of faith, hope and love.
As for the text, I find much value in the prophets and their challenge of xenophobic traditions and how Jesus challenged the power of Jerusalem; I find hope in all the other texts that enabled leaders and missionaries and scholars to lay the foundation for the fight against slavery and misogyny, to craft the struggle to deconstruct national barriers and to welcome "the other."
The larger tradition offers me guidance: the text pitted against the text, and personal perceptions against personal perceptions. Leaving me, as God intended, with the task of making real decisions, for which we I am responsible.
Jesus stepped beyond the rules and laws of the day and cherry-picked the text to formulate his summary of it all: to love God deeply and to love the neighbor as the self.
As Luther said before the tribunal: "I can do no other, so help me God. Amen!"
The readings from Deuteronomy and Titus proved unpleasant, not in any sort of spiritually challenging manner, but in the rawness of hatred of "the other" (Deuteronomy 7.12-16) and the imposition of "quietness" on the slave and "submission" of women to their husbands (Titus 2.1-15).
There was a time when I would engage in all sorts of exegetical/social/historical/critical gymnastics to soften these hideous passages. But that's not fair to the text - no sense in making it say something else. The text says is clear. And it's troubling to me in ways similar to hearing someone shamelessly promote the exceptionalism of the United States while banging the drums of war in order to secure global domination, or hearing those who demean others because of their race, economic status or gender.
I turn away from such people, and I turn away from such texts.
I confess that my "sacred text" suffers from these evils, and has been used to promote "righteous" war, the abuse of women and the institution of slavery.
For me, no sense in ducking the matter with sight-of-hand interpretations. These are troubling texts because they support attitudes and behaviors that have brought great harm to the world.
For me, the Spiritual Presence in our world today says something else about how to welcome and affirm "the other" and that slavery and misogyny are terrible evils. Whether it be a Martin Luther King, Jr. or an Anne Lamott, there are great and small voices lifting up the "better angeles" of faith, hope and love.
As for the text, I find much value in the prophets and their challenge of xenophobic traditions and how Jesus challenged the power of Jerusalem; I find hope in all the other texts that enabled leaders and missionaries and scholars to lay the foundation for the fight against slavery and misogyny, to craft the struggle to deconstruct national barriers and to welcome "the other."
The larger tradition offers me guidance: the text pitted against the text, and personal perceptions against personal perceptions. Leaving me, as God intended, with the task of making real decisions, for which we I am responsible.
Jesus stepped beyond the rules and laws of the day and cherry-picked the text to formulate his summary of it all: to love God deeply and to love the neighbor as the self.
As Luther said before the tribunal: "I can do no other, so help me God. Amen!"
Monday, February 14, 2011
Reading Joshua
Winners write history, and the Bible reflects that. Joshua is deeply nationalistic ... it's part of Israel's "history," but, then, so are the prophets and Ruth and Jonah and Esther. Because America is a large and powerful nation, and lots of Christians enjoy the privilege of such power (as have Christians in other western nations - Britain, Germany, Belgium, France), many have tended to read Joshua as the last word on power and might. It helps to remember that the name of Jesus is the Greek equivalent of Joshua; it is not by accident that the Son of God appears as a second Joshua, not with swords and trumpets, and tumblings walls,but with grace, mercy and peace for all, and a temple curtain torn asunder. As well, like Saul/Paul on the Damascus Road - a version of Israel's first king, but this time, a man of intellect and faith who was sent to the Gentiles with a message of hope and inclusion.
When the Southern Kingdom fell, God got out of the land business - it was too costly - in human lives and to the character of God - and ultimately it failed. Though the folks of Judah returned under Xerxes, there would never again be a nation/state comparable to that of Saul/David/Solomon. When the temple was destroyed, the connection to land was further severed.
Just because "it's in the Bible" is never a reason to go with something. It deserves our thought and a willingness to wrestle with it. There are a multiplicity of themes, greater and lesser ... in the end, we have to choose as we weigh the relative weight of ideas. The far greater weight is on a God of great compassion who truly loves the entire world. Our "holy" book wrestles with this, just like we do. Do we really want a God who loves the whole world? A God who is not a respecter of persons?
When the Southern Kingdom fell, God got out of the land business - it was too costly - in human lives and to the character of God - and ultimately it failed. Though the folks of Judah returned under Xerxes, there would never again be a nation/state comparable to that of Saul/David/Solomon. When the temple was destroyed, the connection to land was further severed.
Just because "it's in the Bible" is never a reason to go with something. It deserves our thought and a willingness to wrestle with it. There are a multiplicity of themes, greater and lesser ... in the end, we have to choose as we weigh the relative weight of ideas. The far greater weight is on a God of great compassion who truly loves the entire world. Our "holy" book wrestles with this, just like we do. Do we really want a God who loves the whole world? A God who is not a respecter of persons?
Friday, January 9, 2009
Fatal Flaw?
Posted this the other day at a group on FB, "Happy to be a Presbyterian" -
For much of my ministry (39 years’ worth), I’ve watched portions of our church raise critical questions about our faithfulness, our orthodoxy, our trustworthiness, and sometimes, with the questions, a full-out dismissal of the church as heretical, if not apostate.
Some of this reflects an American desire to supersede one another – to find the next version - bigger, better, purer, and more effective. Along with this, then, the stories of dramatic conversion and numerical success as proof of the “better” idea.
But it’s not just an American thing, but an element of the Reformation itself – what I’ve come to term, “our fatal flaw.” Not always fatal, of course, nor always a flaw, but our incessant desire to pin one another down on what’s believed, to write and write again, to give expression to our faith, at the moment, and then check and recheck on one another as to how we’re lining up.
In this regard, I’ve had some appreciation for the Roman Church – their unity is less a matter of faith and more a matter of polity. Upon closer examination, in spite of the Pope and the Magisterium, there is tremendous diversity across the Roman world, especially in the near-independent monastic orders, but from nation-to-nation as well.
Nothing works perfectly, of course – the Tower of Babel Principle - a marvelous gift from God that insures a failure-factor in our unrelenting efforts to build a tower to heaven.
Whether Reformed or Roman, evangelical or progressive (or whatever title we might claim) we do well to heed Calvin’s leveling words – the persistent character of sin, and in so recognizing OUR sin, and seeing how merciful God is to US, we might, in our recognition of someone else’s sin, be a bit more sympathetic and kindly.
Jesus never told us to stop taking out one another’s eye-splinters, but reminds us to deal with our own splinters, logs, before we jump self-righteously into someone else’s eye.
We might learn a thing or two from our Asian brothers and sisters who tend to think both/and rather than either/or. Western thinking is painfully linear, whereas Eastern thought is bit circular – think yin yang.
Our typical linear pattern has been “you’re in or you’re out” – the last 150 years has been a see-saw battle at our General Assemblies, what with the ouster of Briggs at Union in New York (and Union’s subsequent withdrawal from the Presbyterian fold) and 40 years later, Machen’s departure to form Westminster in Philadelphia … and back-and-forth it goes; either/or.
I think we’re learning – a new generation of evangelical youth are deeply concerned about poverty, the environment and justice – demoting, if you will, the hot-button issues of their parents – abortion and homosexuality.
On the other hand, a whole new generation of progressives are returning to Scripture and prayer, taking monastic or semi-monastic vows and seeking a vision of God.
Both groups and everyone in between are taking a fresh look at all the theological anchors of the Christian faith – hard-liners are not so hard any more, and those who’ve been so soft, as to be mushy, are firming things up a bit. God be praised; we’re meeting in the creative middle ground.
Convergence, emergence – a new paradigm is evolving, a both/and arrangement.
The culture wars of the 80s and 90s have exhausted us, without a clear winner.
The mainline churches are experiencing renewal, and the mega-churches have reached their zenith only to discover their own failures to make disciples rather than merely attract attendees. After all the claims and counter-claims, we go to bed at night forgiven sinners, and awaken the next day in grace – the same grace for everyone!
Is there a better idea?
Maybe for soap or cars, but we need to be very careful about matters of faith and life. We’re all in this together, and I’d rather encourage you in your journey, as strange as it may appear to me, even being contrary to my journey, but if we’re complimenting one another, praying for one another, seeking to understand and strengthening one another, then the church will prosper – for when love trumps all other laws, that’s when the world begins to pay attention!
For much of my ministry (39 years’ worth), I’ve watched portions of our church raise critical questions about our faithfulness, our orthodoxy, our trustworthiness, and sometimes, with the questions, a full-out dismissal of the church as heretical, if not apostate.
Some of this reflects an American desire to supersede one another – to find the next version - bigger, better, purer, and more effective. Along with this, then, the stories of dramatic conversion and numerical success as proof of the “better” idea.
But it’s not just an American thing, but an element of the Reformation itself – what I’ve come to term, “our fatal flaw.” Not always fatal, of course, nor always a flaw, but our incessant desire to pin one another down on what’s believed, to write and write again, to give expression to our faith, at the moment, and then check and recheck on one another as to how we’re lining up.
In this regard, I’ve had some appreciation for the Roman Church – their unity is less a matter of faith and more a matter of polity. Upon closer examination, in spite of the Pope and the Magisterium, there is tremendous diversity across the Roman world, especially in the near-independent monastic orders, but from nation-to-nation as well.
Nothing works perfectly, of course – the Tower of Babel Principle - a marvelous gift from God that insures a failure-factor in our unrelenting efforts to build a tower to heaven.
Whether Reformed or Roman, evangelical or progressive (or whatever title we might claim) we do well to heed Calvin’s leveling words – the persistent character of sin, and in so recognizing OUR sin, and seeing how merciful God is to US, we might, in our recognition of someone else’s sin, be a bit more sympathetic and kindly.
Jesus never told us to stop taking out one another’s eye-splinters, but reminds us to deal with our own splinters, logs, before we jump self-righteously into someone else’s eye.
We might learn a thing or two from our Asian brothers and sisters who tend to think both/and rather than either/or. Western thinking is painfully linear, whereas Eastern thought is bit circular – think yin yang.
Our typical linear pattern has been “you’re in or you’re out” – the last 150 years has been a see-saw battle at our General Assemblies, what with the ouster of Briggs at Union in New York (and Union’s subsequent withdrawal from the Presbyterian fold) and 40 years later, Machen’s departure to form Westminster in Philadelphia … and back-and-forth it goes; either/or.
I think we’re learning – a new generation of evangelical youth are deeply concerned about poverty, the environment and justice – demoting, if you will, the hot-button issues of their parents – abortion and homosexuality.
On the other hand, a whole new generation of progressives are returning to Scripture and prayer, taking monastic or semi-monastic vows and seeking a vision of God.
Both groups and everyone in between are taking a fresh look at all the theological anchors of the Christian faith – hard-liners are not so hard any more, and those who’ve been so soft, as to be mushy, are firming things up a bit. God be praised; we’re meeting in the creative middle ground.
Convergence, emergence – a new paradigm is evolving, a both/and arrangement.
The culture wars of the 80s and 90s have exhausted us, without a clear winner.
The mainline churches are experiencing renewal, and the mega-churches have reached their zenith only to discover their own failures to make disciples rather than merely attract attendees. After all the claims and counter-claims, we go to bed at night forgiven sinners, and awaken the next day in grace – the same grace for everyone!
Is there a better idea?
Maybe for soap or cars, but we need to be very careful about matters of faith and life. We’re all in this together, and I’d rather encourage you in your journey, as strange as it may appear to me, even being contrary to my journey, but if we’re complimenting one another, praying for one another, seeking to understand and strengthening one another, then the church will prosper – for when love trumps all other laws, that’s when the world begins to pay attention!
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