Day Twenty-seven

I hate it when I’m not in control. It doesn’t really matter whether it’s not being in control of myself or of the others around me. Either way it’s not a good feeling. I especially hate being controlled by others. Often as not I’m smarter than they are, I have better ideas than they do, and things would run more smoothly if they were done my way. I mean, just look at George W. Bush! The idiot couldn’t think his way out of a paper bag and yet he’s messing up the whole world because he’s taken control of our government with the help of his neo-con flunkies. If I could just be the President of the United States then I’d be in control of things and could get the world back in running order.

But wait! Am I not sinning here? Does my desire to be the one in control do something to my relationship with God? I’m well aware of the old adage “let go, let God” but that just seems to be one of so many catchy little platitudes that don’t mean anything in the real world. Bush claims that it is God’s will that he be in control, so what does that say about my desire? Is the sin that I’m wanting something for myself that God has ordained someone else for? Or is the sin to hurt my relationship with God by wanting to be the one in control? How does this work, anyway? If God is in control, what does that do to my free will? And if the doctrine of human volition teaches that through free will I’m the one in control, what does that say about God’s role in the scheme of things?

What we know of Jesus portrays a man not much interested in the issue of control, even though the tradition has imbued him with God-like powers. We are not given the impression that Jesus’ mission was to take over either the corrupt Temple or the oppressive Roman government. Indeed, he paid the high price of not being regarded by many as the true Messiah for this very reason! And the picture of the man in Gethsemane, at the traumatic height of his vulnerability to those who would literally kill to maintain their control, is not of one attempting to manipulate God but is rather one of incredible submission to the will of his Abba. I’m tempted to think that this was easy enough for Jesus because he did so with the knowledge that he was God’s Son (or that he was God), but then I have to confess that this utterly robs him of his divine role as Rabbi, as Teacher. God have mercy on me, a sinner!

Day Twenty-six

I hate it when people disagree with me. I hate it when my opinions and point of view are not shared by others. Admittedly, such an attitude is just a breath away from hating the people who disagree with me and who argue another point of view. My thoughts and ideas are fundamentally who I am, and so it is only natural that I would regard opposing or different thinking to be threatening. My deeply instilled values have a strong foundation of history and tradition supporting them, and most of the time I have religion’s assurance that God, too, supports my position and disdains anything different. In short, my hatred of people who are different from me—who think differently than I do—is justified because God hates them too!

But wait! Am I not sinning here? How can I claim to know the mind of God while being distracted by those I hate for not thinking or believing like I do? I’ve created a dilemma for myself. Do others get to lay claim to right thinking for the same reasons I do? When customs, traditions and perceptions differ, do I need to try to find out where God “stands” on the issues, or is it okay for me to assume that God “sees” things the same way I do? What if I’ve got the Bible on my side (this does become problematic when the text itself doesn’t support my point of view, but I’ll deal with that later)? My self-esteem—my sense of self-worth—is critically dependent upon knowing absolutely that I’m right about everything. Is this selfish need, however, serving to interfere with, or break altogether, my relationship with God?

Somehow I need to better comprehend that this Other that partially resides within me is equally residing throughout the rest of Its creation. What seems to differ from person to person is the individual awareness of this Truth. Perhaps the truly distinctive characteristic of Jesus was his total awareness and acceptance of it, and that comprehension on his part profoundly influenced his relationship to God and humankind. The amazing thing about his character that remains attractive even today is that his ministry was not one of victorious debate but was rather of a quiet and sincere conviction that astounded those around him with the authenticity of its authority. If one’s focus is upon maintaining an optimal relationship with God, there simply isn’t any time left to enter into the destructive process of hating others or their ideas. God have mercy upon me, a sinner!

Day Twenty-five

I hate my job! Never in my forty-one years of employment have I worked in such a demeaning, condescending, discriminatory and unjust environment. I am at the mercy of ignorant buffoons that elevate their own self-importance by lording it over the rank and file with impunity. Yesterday I had to promise the assistant director and unit manager that I will unquestioningly do what my supervisor tells me to do when she tells me to do it. This was to avoid “progressive disciplinary action” against me. Those who haven’t been around me the last six years have no idea just what a bad boy I’ve become!

But wait! Am I not sinning here? To the degree that my hate is taking my eye off the theological ball, so to speak, I am. This notion of sin as a breech in a dynamic relationship as opposed to committing specific static acts is going to take some getting used to. I’m pretty good about not violating, say, the Ten Commandments on a daily basis (and I only have to worry about the Sabbath thing once a week) but I’m not very good at not allowing things to distract me from my ongoing relationship with the Other. This may be part of the problem: that I continue to think of God as other. As I begin to understand myself to be a part of the whole, then it becomes possible to comprehend that a great many of my thoughts and actions are in ignorance of the relationship.

So how do I stay in a “good” relationship with God when I find myself in an environment that I despise? Do I need to accept that God is doing this to me as a form of punishment? And if God really loves me, why is “He” permitting all this to happen to me? Didn’t Jesus’ death upon the cross take care of all this? I’m baptized. I was a faithful church-goer until recently. What gives? What has to give is my erroneous understanding of the nature of God and my relationship to this “Other” that is the fundamental basis of “me”. God is not out there somewhere, but God is the living force within me that is experiencing all the hatred, all the vengeance, all the sin that occurs when that relationship is ignored or broken. God have mercy on me, a sinner!

Author's note: my work environment has improved considerably over the past year, as, hopefully, has my attitude toward work. This does not discount the administration's absurd attempt to discipline me last fall because I wasn't "nice" to a security guard who overstepped his authority. The same idiots are still occupying my sixth floor and our nation's White House.

Day Twenty-four

Did Jesus have a message relevant to our times? We know that the Earth is not flat. We know that the Earth is not the center of the Universe; indeed, infinity has no center. Our eschatology is now based on science which makes the End Time a matter of nuclear annihilation, global warming or a viral pandemic, and the probability of the entire Cosmos coming to a screeching halt is virtually nil. Jesus walked the earth and spoke his mind to a radically different worldview than ours and this legitimately raises the question of his relevance to ours. Once again we are challenged to determine what Jesus’ message actually was by peeling back the layers of interpretation that surround it.

G.A. Studdert Kennedy (1883-1929) wrote, “We have seen that sin is always at its root a break in the unity of man with God, and it was to that root of all sin that the Son of Man was tempted in the Garden.” This echoed Walter Rauschenbusch’s (1861-1918) statement, “The Kingdom of God is largely a matter of right relations, just as sin is largely wrong relation to God, to ourselves and to our fellows.” Paul Tillich (1886-1965) synthesized thoughts such as these into his definition of sin as that which separates us from the love of God. It is not by accident that these giants of 19th and 20th century Christianity were coming to agreement on the revolutionary nature of Jesus’ timeless message. Buried beneath two millennia of orthodox dogma and creed was a fresh, new understanding of what humankind needs to do to save itself.

We are not expected to blindly accept such thinking, any more than we are expected to mindlessly digest what has over the centuries deteriorated into religious pabulum. Jesus was not dictating scripture to be eternally regarded as inerrant and infallible. He was instead presenting a radical new way of understanding our relationship to God, revelation so profound that it is still not completely understood to this very day. Rather than passively await a supernatural event that defies all reason, through the Christ we are invited to enter into a perfectly natural way of life that defies the sin of separation and alienation. Should we be successful in cultivating the same kind of relationship with God that Jesus had—and he assures us that such a thing is possible—we shall discover genuine salvation that transcends even the grave.

Day Twenty-three

It’s an interesting concept. While it’s all about me, I’m not all there is. This allows me to acknowledge that I am the center of my universe while opening the door to the realization that I am not the center of the Universe. Rather than have to deal with a strict either/or, I have the opportunity to integrate into a both/and paradigm. I am not God, but God is me! If this is true it places the matter of my personal salvation—even though I’m still not sure what this really means—into a dynamic context of relationship rather than a static one of mere acceptance. What I do or don’t do does matter, not because it conforms with or violates predetermined criteria, but because if affects the ongoing relationship either positively or negatively (the possibility of neutrality must, of necessity, be reserved for further discussion at a later time).

I can’t speak for anyone else, but such a theological construct sheds a whole new light for me concerning my relationship with God (the Other), and upon the functional nature of Jesus as the Christ. Perhaps the reason that we still remember the man today, and continue to study his divine revelation, is because he avoided absolute egocentrism or theocentrism, instead successfully merging the two into a comprehensible human understanding. Rather than making Jesus’ teachings conform to our understanding of God, we need to be vigorously involved in the process of learning what Jesus teaches about God. His authority comes from his comprehension of the Truth, and it is upon that basis that he shares this Truth with all who have eyes to see and ears to hear.

Such an understanding obviously poses a threat to the authority of the institution—in Jesus’ time the Temple, in our time the Church—because it is eliminated as the mediatory entity. This is not to discount the value of the institution altogether, but it definitely alters its purpose and function, a fact that was no more welcome in Jesus’ day than it is in our own. I’m starting to better understand what the initial conflict between Jesus and the establishment was and how it led to the sequence of events that it did. I’m also starting to feel somewhat hopeful that my pursuit of this line of thought is going to open the door to an entirely new relationship with the Other through the Christ!

Day Twenty-two

You cannot pray the Lord’s prayer and
even once say “I”;
You cannot pray the Lord’s prayer and
even once say “my”;
You cannot pray the Lord’s prayer and
not include your brother;
For others are included in each and
every plea;
From the very beginning it never
once says “me”.
(author not identified)

This poem does not come from the Bible. Does that make it any less true? This poem is not found in any dogma, doctrine, or creed. Does that make it any less profound? “Yet the advocate, the holy spirit the Father will send in my stead, will teach you everything and remind you of everything I told you.” (John 14:26 SV) Who exactly was it that decided that anything not endorsed by the organized institution—the Church—could not be considered “official” or as a legitimate and valid communication from the Paraclete?

In this particular instance, the Paraclete communicated to me in a very meaningful way through my father who fulfilled that same function for thousands of others as well in his role as an ordained pastor. Indeed, a primary medium for the living Word of the Christ is both my parents who knowingly or unknowingly have employed Scripture, tradition, experience, and reason to bring and keep alive the spirit within me. And like concentric circles growing from a stone tossed into a pool, God’s voice can be heard in an ever expanding chorus of those who are moved to share their portion of the greater Truth.

The Other is intimately present throughout all Creation. The Other is not bound by mortal rules or institutions. And through the Christ has been revealed the Other’s desire to be in relationship rather than separation. We enter the wilderness through our own choice of isolation, and the way back out is to enter into holy communion with the Other. My continuing fascination with John’s gospel is that while his quotations of Jesus are deemed unauthentic, the profound Truth remains unaffected: “Don’t you believe that I’m in the Father and the Father is in me? I don’t say what I say on my own. The Father is with me constantly, and I perform his labors.” (John 14:10 SV)

Day Twenty-one

I like to talk tough. I like to appear as if the little things like the meaning and purpose of life don’t really matter to me. And I certainly don’t want to give the impression that I waste any time wondering about what’s going to happen to me after I die. I mean, dead is dead, right? While it’s frowned upon as politically incorrect, the hedonistic philosophy of “eat, drink and be merry” really does seem to capture the contemporary mindset, and it’s just icing on the cake if I can confess Jesus as my Lord and Savior—even at the very last second—as a hedge against being wrong about an afterlife. So why am I even bothering with the whole Lent thing?

It’s because there has been something at the very core of my being from the very beginning that in even my most cynical moments I cannot deny. Yes, it is all about me. But “me” is not all there is! Philosophers, theologians, psychologists—thinkers of all types and ages—have variously wrestled with the reality known by different names: conscience, soul, spirit, subconscious. In metaphysical terms it is the realization that the whole is greater than the sum of the parts, and that somehow in the larger scheme of things this entity we have identified as “mind” is connected to and with this transcendent reality. Interestingly, we don’t even have to overtly acknowledge this reality to accept its truth.

The forty days of Lent is intended to symbolize Jesus’ forty days in the wilderness which in turn is representative of the forty years the Hebrews spent wandering in the wilderness during their exodus from Egypt to the Promised Land. The common thread throughout is what I shall, for now, refer to as the “Other” that is always present. The Hebrews were not alone in the wilderness. Jesus was not alone in the wilderness. Nor am I alone in the wilderness. Try as I might, I cannot believe that it is only “me” because I have a primal awareness of the Other. It is hard to even try to imagine Jesus saying “it’s all about me” because his awareness of the Other was intrinsic to his character. Could this have something to do with my salvation?

Day Twenty

I find myself midway on this spiritual journey through the symbolic wilderness of Lent, and, as some others have commented, I am no less confused—and possibly more so—than when I began. I can’t help but wonder how the journey is progressing for those who chose Mardi Gras revelry over a more somber approach. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so judgmental. Perhaps their method of entering into the observance has provided them with a greater sense of direction than I seem to be finding for myself. The old adage that “ignorance is bliss” may be truer than I care to admit, especially if there’s any truth to the belief that there is a preordained elect going to heaven regardless of what they say or do.

I haven’t done much to dispel the notion that it’s all about me, either. It’s my own skin that I’m out to save, and it’s bothersome to be presented with conflicting theories about how to accomplish that. I’m beginning to feel a strong attraction to the idea that Jesus died on the cross for me because it is comforting to think that I am not ever going to have to go through such an ordeal myself. Indeed, it’s an increasing boost to my ego to consider that everything Jesus did was for my benefit even to the point that his pain and suffering was to assure my place in heaven. If all I have to do is swallow some incredible ideology in order to play the game, that’s a small price to pay to pass my sins on to a willing receiver.

The truth of the matter is that I don’t think I really need to spend another twenty days doing this. Why not just skip ahead to the reward of Easter and be on with it? I already know how the story turns out, and I’m the winner because Jesus arose from the grave. I’ve got a life to get on with, and I’ll be sure to express my gratitude to Jesus for his sticking it out for me the next time I’m at church. Of course, that may be a couple of weeks from now when Easter Sunday rolls around…and it’s always so crowded then that it might make more sense to wait a couple of more weeks…he gave his life for me…I’m sure he’ll understand that there’s nothing more left for me to do…

Day Nineteen

Just for fun, let’s suppose that Jesus’ focus was on the here and now rather than the hereafter. What difference would that make as to our regard for him? If he didn’t see his mission as guaranteeing us a place in heaven, would we have any reason to pay attention to him? What if we discovered that Jesus said something to the effect of “Ask not what the Kingdom can do for you, but what you can do for the Kingdom!”? Would we still be interested in getting on the Christian bandwagon? From the “what’s in it for me?” perspective such a discovery would radically impact Jesus’ actual worth in the scheme of things, although the possibility of immediate rather than delayed gratification would certainly be more consistent with our thinking.

Two-thousand years of history and tradition are not just simply shaken off, but I suggest that by using John Cobb’s analogy of peeling away the layers of an onion we might come to a fresh new understanding of the life and teachings of Jesus of Nazareth. And we have that mystical promise from John’s gospel that there is an abiding presence to assist us with the process. The challenge is to dare to think that we might come to our own conclusions about the man and his ministry without being totally dependent upon others to tell us what to think. It is the Wesleyan adventure of adding our experience and ability to reason to the mix of Scripture and tradition to develop a uniquely personal understanding of what the Christ is all about.

My own study of the subject has led me to feel that there is a strong argument to be made for Jesus’ emphasis upon the present. His gospel was that God’s reign is at hand, not somewhere in the future. What sayings of his that we have been able to determine as authentic address the imminent rather than the remote or distant, and the prayer that has survived the millennia is for the kingdom to come to Earth as it is in heaven. Indeed, it is difficult to find anything that Jesus actually said about the hereafter precisely because his focus was primarily on the present. If Jesus’ offer of salvation is for the present rather than the future, we may have some serious rethinking to do about whether or not we even want to consider it.

Day Eighteen

Yesterday I tried to set the stage in the most concise way for where I think this series needs to head. The Gospel of John is so distinctive in comparison to the synoptic gospels (Matthew, Mark and Luke), and this includes the utterly unique supposition of the ‘paraclete’. While Paul’s influence is clearly seen in the synoptic works, it is not so readily apparent—if it’s there at all—in John’s testament. The synoptic gospels have the breaking of the bread and the sharing of the cup at the Last Supper—the foundation for the Sacrament of Holy Communion—while John relates only Jesus’ washing of the disciple’s feet. Likewise, there is no mention of the ‘paraclete’ in the synoptic versions, only in John’s.

There are at least two things about these differences that are significant. First, John casts a slightly different light on the purpose and meaning of Jesus’ life. Second, John opens the door to the possibility that the relationship with God through Christ is an ongoing process as opposed to a ‘done deal’. The Jesus Seminar deemed none of Jesus’ words recorded in the Gospel of John to be authentic. Hence we are examining a concept rather than a literal truth, but it is a fascinating one nonetheless. One aspect of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (Mormons) that intrigues me is its contention that the story of Jesus did not end once the Christian New Testament was canonized. Alas, the LDS now claim that theirs in the final word.

What if it’s true that Jesus somehow implied that there was more to be taught and more to be learned after his death? The Trinitarian construct adopted so early on by the Church definitely identifies this ‘holy spirit’ as the third person of which God is composed, but it never really gives a clear idea of how it is to be made manifest. Is it the Bible? Is it the Church? In not so many words the claim is made for each and both, but not in such a way as to not be seen as ultimately self-serving. Further, how does personal salvation fit into all of this? If Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection brought about the redemption of humankind, then what need would there be for an advisor, counselor, or comforter? I’m beginning to think that there’s more to the story than we’ve been led to believe.

Day Seventeen

Paracelete (pair-uh-kleet), the transliteration of a Greek term meaning “called to the side of” and hence “advocate (cf. 1 John 2:1). Its importance derives from its use in the Gospel of John (14:16-17, 26; 15:26; 16:7-11; cf. 16:13-15), where Jesus promises his disciples that when he departs he will send them another Paraclete (RSV and NIV: “Counselor”; KJV: “Comforter”; JB and NEB: “Advocate”) to remain with them. As the Fourth Gospel makes clear, the Paraclete is the Holy Spirit, or Spirit of Truth (14:17, 26). In fact, the Fourth Gospel’s teaching about the Holy Spirit is set forth in terms of the Paraclete, who continues the work of Jesus himself (14:16-17), recalling things the earthly Jesus taught or revealing things he was unable to convey (14:26; 16:12-14). In John’s view, this spiritual knowledge of insight, unavailable until after Jesus’ death and resurrection, makes for the first time Christian faith and understanding fully possible. (Dwight Moody Smith, Ph.D., Professor of New Testament Interpretation, Divinity School, Duke University, Durham, North Carolina; HARPER’S BIBLE DICTIONARY, Copyright 1985 by the Society of Biblical Literature, Harper & Row Publishers Inc., NY, NY)

“I have told you these things while I am still here with you. Yet the advocate, the holy spirit the Father will send in my stead, will teach you everything and remind you of everything I told you. Peace is what I leave behind for you; my peace is what I give you. What I give you is not a worldly gift. Don’t give in to your distress or be overcome by terror. You heard me tell you, “I’m going away and I’m going to return to you.’ If you loved me, you would be glad that I’m going to the Father, because the Father is greater than I am. So I have now told you all this ahead of time so you will believe when it happens. (John 14:25-29 The Scholars Version, THE FIVE GOSPELS: THE SEARCH FOR THE AUTHENTIC WORDS OF JESUS, Copyright 1993 by Polebridge Press, Macmillan Publishing Company, NY, NY)

Sabbath Soliloquy

I tried to pretend that my shower this morning was my last. It wasn’t an easy thing to do. Doing something daily makes it commonplace and subject to being taken for granted. That the probability of showering again tomorrow is very high proved to be the greatest challenge to my fantasy. Nonetheless, imagining that it was my last briefly gave me a greater appreciation for the warm water and soap cleansing my body.

My motivation came from a growing awareness that it is a tremendous mistake on my part not to treat each and every moment as if it’s my last. While the probability of the next moment is high, it is never guaranteed. The youthful mindset of invincibility is supported by this better than average likelihood that tomorrow will be another day, but the fallacy is in believing that it is absolutely inevitable.

The profound lesson of 9/11 is to never leave a relationship as if it can be treated better at a future time. It is a tragic mistake to ever miss an opportunity to say “I love you” or to truthfully say whatever needs to be said at the moment. It is a tragic mistake to ever believe that tomorrow will afford the chance to rectify today’s wrong. When I come to accept this truth, it will change me and my relationships. That’s one step toward a better world.

Day Sixteen

I’m starting to think that I’m barking up the wrong tree, so to speak. “For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 6:23 NRSV) This is pure Pauline Christology and is arguably inconsistent with the teachings of Jesus himself. Maybe death is not what I’m trying to save myself from. Even the most orthodox interpretation of the Resurrection requires the acceptance that Jesus “was crucified, dead, and buried.” (The Apostles’ Creed) The great mystery for the early followers of Jesus that continues to this day is to try to reconcile why, if Jesus was the Messiah—and more, if he was God incarnate—he would have submitted to death upon a cross rather than vanquish his foes.

Early on, then, death became the enemy for the faithful to be saved from with salvation being signified by eternal life. Research has revealed that first century Judaism was diverse, sometimes to the point of being fractious. While there was one school of thought that posited an afterlife, the mainstream thought leaned more toward death being the end of life with a dormant consignment to Sheol that might or might not be disrupted by some apocalyptic event. What is not clear, however (and may never be), is which camp Jesus placed himself in. Once again, that decision was made for him by Paul and the other seminal influences of the early Church.

Getting back to where this all started—ME—I’m beginning to have second thoughts about whether or not there is really anything that I need to be saved from. From a cynical perspective the concept can easily be seen as a contrivance of disgruntled first century Jews that might have eventually faded away had it not been embraced by Constantine (this is another fascinating step in the development of the Church that must be addressed at another time as it is truly not germane to this series). What I cannot so easily dismiss is the fact that a man called Jesus did most definitely exist, and that he delivered a core message that in spite of subsequent corruption and embellishment just might hold a kernel of Truth that will benefit me.

Day Fifteen

It should really not come as a surprise to anyone to learn that Jesus of Nazareth was not the first Christian. Neither should it come as a surprise that he was not the archetypal Christian. Jesus was not a Christian. He would not have even known what you were talking about. Jesus by all accounts was unapologetically a Jew. As a result, he did not write the New Testament, he did not read the New Testament, and he never knew of the spin that Paul and the evangelists put on the meaning of his life. So the first thing we need to understand when trying to learn more about the historical Jesus is that his frame of reference was the Hebrew Scriptures, what Christians have come to refer to as the Old Testament.

All of the research indicates that at the time of the “Christ event” the widespread belief was that the Earth was flat. Do we believe that today? Even after the flat earth notion was dispelled, the belief that the Earth was the center of the universe was propagated—principally by the Church. Do we believe that today? Ironically, the literal interpretation of Genesis’ creation stories (yes, there are two to be found in the first two chapters) are being espoused by contemporary creationists in defiance of all reason and experience while there is very clear evidence that the authors clearly intended the stories to be taken as metaphorical. Honest contextual criticism cannot arbitrarily ignore the worldview held at the time of writing.

A good example of how such ignorance can skew the accuracy of interpretation is the currently popular Left Behind series. I daresay that those who are caught up in this fad haven’t given the study of eschatology a moment’s thought, and yet what the first and second century common era authors believed about the end times is critical to an accurate interpretation of the entire New Testament, especially The Revelation to John. It is important to note that we have still not addressed Jesus’ worldview because he was not the author of what was written about him. What has been addressed is the issue of the worldview held by those who did write the story because their understanding of the nature of reality was very, very different from ours.

Day Fourteen

How would I ever go about trying to find out what Jesus was actually like, what he was really all about? Heaven knows that there are plenty of people around who seem to have him as their best friend! But is there any way to reconcile the ancient image with my contemporary worldview? I am hard pressed to think of any other discipline that would require that I take information that is two-thousand years old and literally take it at face-value with no room for subsequent additions and interpretation. And the very fact that I read that information translated into English is de facto proof that such a thing is indeed impossible.

The Bible and the Church cannot be ruled out as primary sources in the quest for the historical Jesus, but in the spirit of John Wesley neither can experience and reason. The syllogism that text without context becomes pretext is utterly applicable to our approach to scripture and tradition. When I approach either in an intellectual void that discounts or prohibits my ability to think and discern, what I am able to glean from them is skewed toward error. So, if I fail to take into account that what I read in the Bible has been through the process of translation (in several different languages prior to the English) and has been subjected to the editorial scrutiny of the Church I then fail to comprehend the whole and complete transmission.

All this is to set the stage that there might be something yet to learn about the life and teachings of Jesus, and to open ourselves to the possibility that we might discover something about his purpose that is different than what we’ve been led to believe. Perhaps the significance of Jesus’ death upon a cross is greater than my personal salvation, but if I’m unable to move past the preconceived notions that I’ve been taught then I’ll never be able to understand what that is. This is beginning to sound like work, and I wonder if it’s really worth the effort. It would be so much easier just to let others do the thinking for me and I just passively accept it. What would Jesus do?

Day Thirteen

Boston-based education commentator and author of Unconditional Parenting Alfie Kohn knows a college counselor hired by parents to help “package” their child, who had perfect board scores and a wonderful grade-point average. When it was time to work on the college essay, the counselor said, “Let’s start with a book you read outside of school that really made a difference in your life.” There was a moment of silence. Then the child responded, “Why would I read a book if I didn’t have to?” (TIME, February 21, 2005, p.47)

I daresay that the child’s attitude is descriptive of that taken by many toward delving into the gospel (literally “good news”). If organized religion—in the case of Christianity, the Church—has already developed a game plan for my personal salvation, why would I want to go to the trouble of authenticating its validity? If the Church says that this is the way it works, then who am I to argue? Especially when the Church claims Scripture to support its point of view is such an attitude understandable. If my personal salvation is the ultimate test, then why not teach for the test and consider all else to be extracurricular?

Jesus saves! More importantly, Jesus saves me! Such reasoning is seductively attractive to the selfish mindset whether or not it is true. But there continues to be that nagging question: is it true? I’m not completely sure that my self is even at risk, but if it is, then isn’t it to my ultimate benefit to make sure that the plan for salvation is “guaranteed”? When it comes right down to it, there’s way too much at stake for me to take someone else’s—anybody else’s—word for it. Even though my selfish nature seeks the path of least resistance there is a stronger impetus to ensure that the plan for my salvation is really going to work!

Day Twelve

If I determined that there was some personal benefit to professing Jesus as my Lord and Savior but was skeptical about the Church’s motivation for encouraging me in this direction, would I be able to substantiate that Jesus himself made such a claim and, more importantly, that he had/has the power to fulfill it? Are there sources independent of the Church that can corroborate its story? Are there sources independent of the Church that can provide a different interpretation? What are the chances of putting together an objective picture of the man Jesus, who he was, what he said, and what he did?

We live at an extraordinary time! This is true in many respects, including biblical and archeological discoveries not available to centuries of Christians before the twentieth century. In conjunction with unprecedented scientific discovery during the same period an emerging worldview capable of accommodating both science and religion appeared, although this has also contributed to a reactionary fundamentalism that continues to attempt to discredit the alliance. If ever there was a generation in a position to develop a profile of Jesus comparable to that of first-hand witnesses, it is ours.

Such an endeavor is, however, going to be strenuously complex and challenging to whoever would enter into it. And there is no guarantee of any personal reward other than the satisfaction of the effort itself. If approached with the attitude of “what’s in it for me?” the incentive to pursue the subject with the diligence required will simply be lacking. A simplistic approach that provides absolute answers is ever so much more attractive to the selfish mentality. This was true in Jesus’ time just as surely as it is in ours.

Day Eleven

This “Lenten journey” is beginning to seem a little nonsensical. Death as the enemy to be saved from is thus far really just conjecture, and yet a more viable definition of salvation doesn’t seem to be readily forthcoming. The observance of Lent doesn’t seem to be so much Jesus’ idea as it is the Church’s, and the relationship between the two is becoming more ambiguous than absolute. What is it possible to know about the Nazarene without the interpretive filter of the Church? On an even more heretical note, did Jesus really authorize the Church to be the “official” institution to transmit and decipher his teachings?

Again, working from the basis of having more than a passing familiarity with the Church (at least with one of its many branches) I can attest that—to a greater or lesser degree—the institution has a vested interest in how the gospel is interpreted. This is such an obvious truth that it is often overlooked. But from Paul on, there has always been a presence to select which aspects of Jesus’ life were important, and more significantly to determine why they were important. The claim of divine inspiration has figured prominently in this process, and an examination of Paul’s letters will quickly illustrate this point.

All this is to say that it is just as reasonable to believe that the issue of salvation is as much a concern of the Church as it ever was of Jesus. One of the magnificent benefits of the constitutional government developed in the United States of America is the liberation from the Church-State that permits a more objective survey of ecclesiastical influence over moral and philosophical thought in general. It has also provided the freedom to research the historical Jesus in contrast to the Church’s, although the Church’s resistance to this approach remains active and—perhaps for the first time in the history of our country—is regaining a dominant position.

Sabbath Soliloquy

Sunday has become such a different day. As Mary and I drove around mid-morning looking for one of our favorite restaurants without a queue I uttered a question that was often asked when I was in the ministry, “Why aren’t all these people in church?” Obviously the context of the question had changed significantly.

There was an e-mail passing around work the other day that solicited personal information about the receiver (e.g. what are your favorite television shows? what jobs did you have before this one? etc). One of the recipients of my forward later expressed surprise that I had been a minister, to which I replied that I understand ordination to be a forever kind of thing even if the church doesn’t see it that way.

In an odd sort of way I am more perplexed by what it means to be a “man of God” now than when I was in the active pastorate. Apparently I don’t give off that aura to my coworkers, which makes me wonder if it was only an outward appearance that people saw when I was in the church setting. How authentic is my discipleship? I am increasingly convinced that the answer to such a question is not to be found by adopting the stereotypical trappings of a religious person, just as I find a true answer to be increasingly elusive.

Day Ten

Listening to NPR this morning I heard a report about the ethical debate centering on euthanasia and terminally ill children. What I found to be of particular interest was the observation that those parents described as religious were more resistant to the concept than were those described as secular. It raises a question that continues to puzzle me even though I’ve received theological training and have worked through the issues of death and grieving with hundreds of people as their pastor. Why, when the Christian profession of faith declares triumph over the ultimate enemy, are we still afraid of death?

While it is true that confessing/professing Christians are rather selective about the kinds of death they resist—abortion, euthanasia, their own—and are accepting of others—capital punishment, war, and the death of relationships called divorce—to make these kinds of distinctions only makes finding an answer to the question more complicated. Sharing the tearful moments at the deathbed and witnessing the sorrowful countenance of funerals only serves to reinforce the basic premise that we don’t want to die because we are afraid of death.

It is little wonder, then, that non-Christians look at the proclamation of Resurrection with a degree of skepticism. First, did Jesus not have to actually die before he could be resurrected? And if his resurrection actually constituted a physical resuscitation why was his ascension necessary? Why isn’t he still with us here and now as a living testimony to his defeat over death? And if the nature of Jesus’ resurrection was something other than resuscitation, how does that affect the idea that I can share in that with him? It’s nice to talk about eternal life, but it’s an altogether different thing to believe it.

Author's note: the actual NPR broadcast to which I refer was 02/19/05.

It Just Snowed!

Those of you learning of this event in places where snow is not uncommon may not fully appreciate how rare such an occurence is on the high desert. It has passed already and the sun is again shining, but reporting from Las Vegas: it just snowed!

Day Nine

When I say that it’s all about me, am I not really saying that it’s about the power I have. Isn’t power what everybody wants? David Allen writes, “The sense of not having control is the greatest human fear.” Isn’t authority all about exercising power? The creeds of the Church took their current form centuries after Jesus walked the earth, but they universally proclaim Jesus’ authority over the gates of heaven and hell. They also make a point of proclaiming Jesus to be the Godhead so that there’s a smooth transition of power: God to Son, Son to Holy Ghost, and Holy Ghost to Church. While this paradigm is good for the Church it isn’t the most beneficial to me personally. I end up losing my personal power to the Church.

Again, one of Jesus’ mystifying characteristics was his apparent lack of interest in personal power. The gospel accounts relate that the disciples were both confounded and frustrated by their Master’s failure to take control, most especially over the events of the Passion (Holy Week). Not only were his closest followers disappointed with this seeming shortcoming, but it raised question in the general population’s mind as to whether or not this meek and humble personality really qualified as the much anticipated Messiah (again, this claim seems to have been made for Jesus rather than by him). The ultimate submission to crucifixion immediately raised questions about Jesus’ power and authority that had to be explained in some other way.

The explanation articulated early on by Paul quickly developed into the “official” position of the early Church, and subsequently as the hallmark of Christianity. Jesus’ death upon the Cross was the preordained divine plan for supplying the power to provide salvation for sinful humankind. This notion further turned into the aspect of personal salvation that could not be universally accessed, instead being available only to a select few. Whether or not these chosen were themselves preordained for salvation—the elect—soon became another issue for debate in the emerging Church. So now I am in a quandary. Does Jesus really have the power to save me, or has the Church simply said that he does?

Day Eight

Who has the authority to save me? Who has the power to save me? While the questions may at first glance seem to be one and the same, there are subtle differences that make it worth my while to seek answers to both. These issues are at the heart of scripture, and the answers offered certainly hold a significant sway over the institutions of organized religion. Historically the Church claims to have been given the authority in Jesus’ name, but there is a preceding question found in scripture itself: By what authority did Jesus claim to have the power to save?

As Albert Schweitzer so masterfully articulated, Jesus never claimed for himself a lot of the things that have been claimed for him since. It stands to reason that the emerging Church would say that Jesus imbued it with his authority, but that still doesn’t tell us where Jesus obtained his authority to do such a thing. Ernest Holmes’ process of deducing First Cause brings us very much into alignment with where Jesus may have actually stood on the issue. Authority is ultimately derived from ultimate power, and the ultimate source of power is God.

Hard as I have looked, I have not found anything to indicate that Jesus ever believed that he was God. Indeed, there is abundant scriptural evidence that Jesus held a very clear distinction of the I-Thou relationship with his ‘Father’. The Nazarene, in his impeccable Jewish-ness, always gave glory to the First Cause with whom he enjoyed an incredible intimacy. Was I to ask him “Who has the power to save me?” I feel confident his answer would be, “The one true God.” We would probably have to spend more time trying to figure out whom or what God authorizes to use that power on her/his behalf.

Day Seven

I’ve digressed. I need to refocus on the basic question. How can I be saved? I could easily get sidetracked again by wondering what it is that I need to be saved from, but the presumption is so ancient as to be beyond debate. However evil is defined, it is seductive and to be avoided. When I become aware of being in evil’s grasp, then I need to be saved from it. Who, or what, is capable of accomplishing this?

It seems reasonable to explore where evil comes from in the first place. If that can be determined, then there’s a better chance of developing a plan for escaping from it or avoiding it altogether. In my relatively fortunate state, however, I may find it difficult to identify what is genuinely evil. If I lived in a dangerous environment, the palpable threat to my life would clearly stand out. But in a safe environment, the threat from which to be rescued almost needs to be imagined.

Perhaps it is that which is beyond explanation or understanding that is perceived as evil. Death certainly falls into this category, and the case is repeatedly made throughout Hebrew and Christian scripture that death is initiated by evil as a form of punishment for human transgression. So, I’ve established an evil from which I want to be saved. I selfishly don’t want to die, and that logically leads to my practical need of a supernatural savior. Now we’re getting somewhere!

Day Six

The role of the Church in defining the nature and role of Jesus of Nazareth is undeniable. Through the process of canonization it was determined by the early Church which writings would make it into the New Testament and which would not. Paul’s influence is clearly seen in the synoptic gospels (Matthew, Mark, and Luke), and because John’s gospel differed so greatly in style and content there was much debate about whether or not it should be included.

I would guess that what most of us think we know about Jesus was learned from the Church, not from the Bible. The argument could be made that the Church simply teaches the Bible, but history informs us that the early Church was integrally involved with developing the Bible from which it teaches. Only within the last century have early texts that didn’t make the canonical cut been brought to light, providing us with a glimpse of the Jesus free of ecclesiastical influence.

So, is it the Church’s Jesus that I’m supposed to be following? Again, what’s in it for me? And more, what might possibly be in it for the Church? Does the Church have anything to gain by presenting a Jesus which appeals to my self-interest? One must wonder why Jesus himself was not clearer about the dogma he considered important rather than leaving such a responsibility to the emerging Church. Is it just possible that he had something altogether different in mind?

Day Five

Life is about death. Easter is about death with a twist. Without Easter, life’s only certainty is death. Easter’s promise is life beyond the grave. It is life and death without meaning versus life and death with meaning. It’s “is this all there is?” versus “this is what it’s all about.” Life’s ultimate mystery is not nearly so fearsome when it is solved by an absolute answer. Is this not essentially the function, value, and attraction of faith?

To explain what happens to us after we die has universal appeal, and such explanations are fundamental to all the world’s religions. Jesus is not the only historical figure for whom the claim of resurrection has been made, but Christianity does seem to have cornered the market on guaranteeing eternal life after death. A significant portion of Christian theology has likewise been devoted to the antithetical eternal damnation, or hell.

From the selfish perspective (which has already been established as itself universal in nature) eternity in heaven is obviously preferable to eternity in hell, and the selfish nature is easily appeased by a “plan” that assures the former. If my confession/profession of Jesus the Christ as my Lord and Savior—signified by my baptism—serves as my ticket to heaven then it’s well worth my lip service even if I’m not absolutely sure that I’ll ever have to have it punched.

Day Four

Studying the Bible; believing the Bible; doing what the Bible says; are these not the hallmarks of today’s “good” Christians? Don’t the divisive judgments against abortionists, homosexuals, Jews, and sinful infidels of all size, shape and color have their basis in Scripture? Do we not determine who is elevated to positions of religious and moral authority based upon their intimate knowledge of the Living Word and their adherence to it? We American Christians do love our bibles, and it is understandable how outsiders might believe that Scripture has become our real Godhead.

What I’ve never really understood is how “true” Bible-study excludes the historicity of the document being examined. Take, for example, what the New Testament of the Christian scriptures tells us about Jesus of Nazareth. My background has afforded me more than a passing familiarity with this subject, and I continue to be surprised and amazed that Saul of Tarsus (later to be known as Paul; later still to identify himself as the Apostle Paul) managed to come in with the earliest recorded assessment of Jesus and his significance that continues to be profoundly influential to this day. By his own admission, Paul never knew the man Jesus!

So, is it Paul’s ‘Jesus’ that I’m to be following on this Lenten journey to Easter? I have to admit that I like the ‘personal savior’ qualities that Paul has incorporated. It’s only a minor detail that his eschatological timing was (again, by his own admission) a bit off, because that is far outweighed by the knowledge that when the Apocalypse does finally arrive I can save myself by following Paul’s example of professing the man we never knew as our Lord and Savior!

Day Three

Anything purporting to be in the spirit of Lent must eventually get around to the subject of Jesus. He is, after all, the central figure of Christianity. But which Jesus should we contemplate? This may on the surface seem a frivolous question, but a deeper look will reveal a multitude of perceptions of who he was and his significance. Many consider the Bible to be the primary source of information, and while this is basically true the New Testament as we have received it today can hardly be considered a firsthand account.

From the beginning interpretation has played an undeniable role in the telling of the gospel story. It would have been helpful if Jesus would have written his own autobiography, but that too would have been influenced by his perception of himself. Alas, we read that at best he made a few scratches in the sand, and the telling of his life and what it meant was left to others who in all likelihood had no firsthand knowledge of their subject. Multiply this process by two-thousand years and your end product is fundamentally mythological in character.

But back to me; which Jesus is best suited to my needs, wants and desires? The personal savior model is extremely attractive. What could possibly be better than some mystical creature that is willing to die on a cross in order to save me? It is true that I am hard pressed to find in Scripture that he ever said as much, but the growing popularity of today’s Christianity has to have something to do with a Messiah that is committed to vanquishing anyone or anything that stands in the way of my salvation—whatever that means.

Day Two

We’re taught that selfishness is a bad thing. But why? There are the basic three necessities—food, clothing, shelter—that I must have in order to sustain my existence, and if I don’t exist it is impossible for me to do anything for anyone else. I am all that there is, and so selfishness transcends any subjective “moral value” as the critical key to survival. Every person’s fundamental responsibility is to provide the necessities of life for her/himself.

When we get right down to it, isn’t any ideology that argues against selfishness the truly bad thing? Any talk of putting others before ourselves is really just idealistic tripe. It sounds nice, I suppose, but it certainly doesn’t jibe with reality. Again, my personal existence is the most important thing and anything that threatens or stands in the way of it must be eliminated. The continuation of my self is my offspring, and so to selfishly provide for them (and in so doing, me) is actually a noble thing.

Any proposal of “selflessness” is arguably selfish at root. Why would I ever put the welfare of another before my own unless it was ultimately to my own personal benefit? The truth is I would not. When it is to my own good I may be motivated to promote the welfare of others, but no such motivation reasonably exists without that selfish incentive. You say you disagree? Take off your rose-colored glasses and see how the world we live in really works!

Day One

It’s really about me, right? Dust to dust. Ashes to ashes. That’s my dust. That’s my ashes. I am the consciousness that is experiencing this thing called life, and when that consciousness ceases to exist so, for all intents and purposes, do I. So it makes perfectly good sense—it is logical—that my worldview be from the perspective of me first. How could it possibly be any other way?

Such egocentricity is the only really objective perspective from which to understand my place in the scheme of things. Take me out of the picture and there is no longer a picture. Of course this is not true for other sentient beings, but they are nothing more than the exterior trappings of my personal experience. It may be regarded as humane to care about what happens to these “others” but in truth I am afforded such a sentimental luxury only by caring about myself first and foremost.

Therefore, I unapologetically approach this “Lent” thing from the perspective of what’s in it for me? If the name of the game is self-denial, how is that going to benefit me? It’s nice to know that this all culminates in Easter, but how does this ancient myth genuinely assure my personal salvation? Am I going to be resurrected? Am I going to live forever? Am I guaranteed a place in heaven? You see, it’s really all about me.


Author's note: Steve (the younger) appropriately commented that a blog should be more a daily affair than weekly. This being Ash Wednesday affords me the opportunity to (somewhat lazily) republish my Lenten musings from a year ago, and in so doing to come closer to a new post each day (remember that Sundays are not counted in the forty days of Lent). It will be interesting to see how much my own thought has or has not changed in a year's time, and where I become aware of something significant I will add that as current commentary. As always, the comments I most value are yours.