Friday, June 15, 2012

Assumptions.

I had a really great conversation with someone in my family last night, and it prompted me to clarify something.  This may get a bit deep, but I'll try to be as clear as I can.  It's also long, so proceed at your own risk.

All Christians, Evangelical, Mainline or Catholic proceed from a certain set of assumptions.  Most Catholics, for example, don't make a "personal relationship with Jesus" a central part of their faith and practice.  They experience God primarily through liturgy and sacrament and interpret Scripture within the context of not just the local parish community, but within the wider Catholic traditions of the last 1,500 years or so.  Evangelicals, who centralize a personal, experiential relationship with Jesus and a clear, memorable "conversion experience" are horrified by what they regard as paganism by the Catholics, while Catholics are flabbergasted by arrogant, populist Evangelicalism.  Both proceed from their own assumptions, which are based on their interpretation of - you guessed it - the Bible.

Let's take this a step further.  All orthodox Christians assume the doctrinal truth of the Trinity.  The Bible, however, does not directly teach trinitarian doctrine anywhere.  It is an invention of the third and fourth centuries AD, arrived at as an interpretation of several passages, and it was by no means uncontested.  The wording of the Nicene Creed reflects the controversy.  It does not say "we believe in a trinitarian God," it says "we believe in one God," and then goes on to clarify the three persons.

So do we believe in one God or three gods?  A Muslim would insist that we believe in three Gods, and if we equate the words "God" and "Allah" (and I would), then to an Muslim now we're engaging in idolatry.  Explain it any way you want, and the result is the same. 

The thing is, the Trinity rests on a bunch of assumptions of which most Christians are not aware.  It is a product of a Greco-Roman way of ordering theology.  Greek philosophy had no trouble distinguishing between distinct things, entities or identities while maintaining a cohesive unity.  They saw it all around them, after all.  A tree was both unity and multiplicity, a single thing  made up of constituent parts that informed and defined it.  The Greeks saw each person as a whole greater than the sum of his or her parts.  Their pantheon of gods reflected this, as each individual deity was really no more than a reflection of an aspect of Divinity.  When Christianity came along, the Greco-Roman world had no trouble at all with the concept of a trinitarian God because it had an epistemological framework ready-made.

But it goes even further than that.  Greco-Roman society was rigidly structured, an orderly hierarchy into which each person fit in a specific place.  The layers were somewhat permeable; one could move up the ladder, as it were, but only with the help of someone at the next level, which made the complex web of kinship and patronage critically important.  Honor was found not in rising above one's station, but by fulfilling one's purpose in the social order to the best of one's ability.  Paradoxically, a person who wanted to rise through the ranks would not do so through self promotion, but by strict attendance to the obligations appropriate to his or her rank.  The idea of a well-ordered, eternally static Trinity made up of persons with distinct roles fit perfectly into Roman society (or was it a product of Roman society?).

The Trinity was not a universal concept though, not even for Christians.  It was largely a doctrine of the Western Church, which quickly imposed the social order on the church, rigidly ordering it with pastors, priests, bishops, archbishops and so on, and on the Trinity, which it ordered neatly in terms of the Roman household: Father, Son and Spirit (wife).  Although the official formulation recognized that all members were co-equal, the Church historically has framed the Trinity in subordinationist terms (Father, then Son, then Spirit).

The Eastern Church, however, made very different assumptions.  It arose in a culture that did not order itself as rigidly and though it accepted the general hierarchy of the Western Church, it consistently pursued a more community-based daily practice.  One might say that the Western Church emphasized the oneness of God, while the Eastern Church emphasized the threeness.  This has had all sorts of implications for the way these two strands of the Church have organized themselves.  We Evangelicals are a product of the Western Church and have inherited much of its theology and organization.  Much what we believe about God, which we think comes directly from the Bible, is really based on a framework of Greek philosophical understanding.  The salvation experience, a personal relationship with Jesus, conversion, the Trinity - all rely on the assumptions that Westerners bring to the table, and are not shared by much of the rest of the world.

Arab culture, for example, has arisen under very different circumstances.  The geography and climate made cooperative effort critically important.  Since resources were scarce, Arabs organized their society in tribes that were more flexible and mobile so they could easily relocate when circumstances demanded it.  While there has always been a hierarchy, the tribal structure and the importance of cooperation made it much less nuanced.  There was the Sheikh and his family, and then everybody else.  There was little exploitation though, and so no need to form a more stratified social order.  The difficult conditions under which life was lived demanded cohesiveness; oneness and unity were matters of life and death

Islam reflects this understanding.  There is Allah and there is Muhammed, the Prophet of Allah.  While Muhammed is revered above other men, he is not Allah.  Islam emphasizes the oneness and singular importance of Allah, around which every other element is arranged.  Arab Muslims have one God, complete in himself and in whom all mankind finds completeness and unity, and there is no societal framework for conceptualizing something like a Trinity.  It's not that they're not intelligent enough to understand it, or that they don't want to understand it, but that it simply doesn't make the slightest bit of sense to them because they come to the table with a completely different set of assumptions.  The fine distinctions Western Christians make between the persons of the Trinity sound like contradictory nonsense.  Arab Muslims proceed from an extremely conservative interpretation of the Koran, which is read only in the original Arabic and only by men trained to do so; consequently, our formulation of doctrine by implication (rather than strict literal interpretation of Scripture) also doesn't work for them.

This is a very long post to say this: don't be too sure that the things you believe proceed directly from a clear, unadulterated understanding of Scriptural truth directly from God.  God speaks to people in ways that they comprehend; if he wanted to reveal himself to an Arab, would he not do so in a language and culture that he could grasp?  After all, the fact that you're Christian is largely because you were born in America (the heir of the Roman Empire) and that the Roman Empire adopted Christianity early on, and that happened because God revealed himself to Jews in first-century Palestine.  If you are a Christian, it is mostly by virtue of your birth into the Western world.  Were you born in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, you would be Muslim.  Were you born in India, or in much of Asia, you would be Buddhist.  In neither case would much of what Christians believe make any sense to you no matter how carefully put. 

Do you really want God to reach the world?  The WHOLE world?  Then you might have to release some of your hangups about how he does it.  There are distortions in every belief system; God asks everyone to change something, Christian, Muslim, Buddhist or otherwise.  Let God do things his way; don't impose your assumptions on it.

Thursday, June 14, 2012

Obvious

I once delivered a sermon in which I contended for a God who was obvious, asserting that those who seek him will always find him.  I said that the "narrow gate" of Matthew 7 was really a warning intended for clean-living Christians, who have a greater capacity for self-righteousness than the hooker down the street.  I said that the "narrow gate" is really like a huge archway; just turn around and it's right there.  You can't miss it.  Once you walk through it, there's just open space.  You can't get lost.  You can't make a wrong turn.  You needn't worry about all of that because it's not the point.  I was simply telling people not to make it any harder than it actually is, not for themselves or for anyone else.  Don't impose artificial conditions.  Don't put up flaming hoops for people to jump through. 

You would not believe the kind of angry resistance I got.  Many Christians are deeply offended by the idea that it could be this simple, but there's nothing new about it.  Jesus says similar things to the Jewish religious elite time and again.  It's not heresy.  Patrick of Ireland (otherwise known as St. Patrick) composed this famous little prayer:

"God above me.
 God below me.
 God in front of me.
 God to my left, and to my right.
 God in every eye that sees me.
 God in every ear that hears me.
 God within me.
 Amen."

In Matthew 5:6, when Jesus says "[b]lessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled," he doesn't mean "good moral behavior."  The Greek word dikaiosune refers to one's covenant standing with God, which is purely a function of his gracious activity.  God's covenants, through which he expresses his love for us, are entirely one-sided.  The katharos kardia ("pure heart") Jesus mentions in verse 8 should be understood in that light. 

Later, in Matthew 7:7, Jesus says "[a]sk and it will be given to you; seek and you will find.  Knock and the door will be opened."  It's important to understand the way Greek grammar works here.  When we use the future tense in English, we typically are referring to some unspecified point in the future.  While that can be true in Greek, the future tense is also used in what is called the future imperatival sense.  It indicates a causal relationship, two things inextricably bound together.  If you do this, then that will happen.  The Ten Commandments in Exodus 20 are written in the future imperatival.  Why?  Because they come with an implied, "or else." 

What Jesus is saying, in other words, is that those who seek him will always find him.  He's not hiding.  He's not making himself intentionally difficult to understand.  He doesn't obscure himself in any particular culture or limit himself to any one sacred text or another.  While he refuses to be neatly packaged, marketed and consumed, he also refuses to be nailed down and defined in any one creed, tradition or experience.

He is not a narrow gate, or the eye of a needle.  Open your eyes and you will see him.  Turn around and you will find him.  You will find him in the words of many sacred texts because Jesus is not the container, but the contents.  He is not the menu, but the meal.

So relax.  There are many ways to seek God, and if you seek him you will find him.  When you do, he will make sense because he wants to make sense to you.  He wants you to understand him.  If God does not seem obvious, it's not because you're not trying hard enough, but probably because you're trying too hard.

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Myth

People tend to equate "myth" with "untrue story," but myths are actually stories that tell deep, abiding truths about who we are as human beings.  The Bible, for example, is full of "myth," and that doesn't mean it's not true.  The great contradiction is that Christians tend to dismiss the stories told by other people as "myth" (applying the "untrue story" definition), but insist that our own are somehow different, somehow more true.

There is a Greek myth about a man named Narcissos (Americans have typically made Narcissos a woman because of the assumptions we make about gender), who sees his own reflection in a pool of water, falls in love with it and, unable to leave, wastes away and dies. 

Evangelical Christianity, in many ways, is Narcissos.  We have fallen in love with our own reflection.  We reject anything we do not understand or cannot shoehorn into (or extract out of) the Bible, which we follow instead of God much of the time.  Instead of looking for deep, God-given truth anywhere we can find it, we've decided that the only place God has ever truly revealed himself is in our sacred text.  Anything else is nothing more than false truth.  Sure, it may seem like truth, or peace, or goodness, but it's really just a "counterfeit" sent by the devil to fool us.

The Bible, by the way, is the reflection I'm talking about.  Evangelicalism largely doesn't bother to really examine what the original meaning was; instead, we formulate doctrines or rules based on our own cultural prejudices, and then find justification for them in a mis-reading of the Bible.  Women in ministry and the big moral issue with the gay community are two obvious examples.  It's not God that hates women and gay people, it's Christians.

Truth arises in many places, including many sacred texts.  That doesn't mean one has to accept every tenet of every faith as God-given, as people introduce distortions into everything God does.  It's unavoidable.  But we must not dismiss truth because it didn't come from the Bible.  We must not insist that the whole world adopt our version of "truth," which is much less about the Gospel than it imperialism, and the wholesale adoption of conservative capitalism wrapped in a (very) thin layer of Christianity.  We must allow God to speak to different cultures in different ways and yes, sometimes wearing a different face.

We might just have to accept that, were God to desire to form a relationship with a non-Western culture, he might just look like one of them and speak in ways that would make sense to them.  We might have to see that the "narrow gate"** is far wider than Christians may want it to be. 

I mean, really, does anybody honestly think that Gandhi didn't know God?


**The "narrow gate" analogy in Mathew 7 isn't about non-believers.  Jesus is talking to the Jewish religious elite, warning them that their identity badges, all the things they think make them part of the in-crowd, won't get them very far.  In other words, the "narrow gate" applies to Christians, not non-Christians.  It's not non-Christians who find themselves on the "wide road" that "leads to destruction," but Christians.