Friday, December 21, 2007

reciprocality

I'll admit a major fault of mine: I tend to ditch out on conversations when I'm not excited about them. Typically when I blog it's because there's some idea that's really got me excited, I write about it, I move on. Then I get questions which force me to realize how poorly I expressed such ideas, or that make me feel the need to research to adequately back up what I just said . . . and the truth is I don't care enough to put that much effort into it. Nonetheless it is true that the only thing that keeps me motivated to write these things is the conversation aspect of it all. When I don't hear back, I don't write. So, all that to say, sorry Kristin. It was mostly laziness, and, no, I haven't grouped you in with people I cut off for disagreeing with.

Here goes:

1. In regard to truth existing outside of language as some static entity . . . I don't know. I haven't made up my mind on that one. I firmly doubt that any language has the capacity to adequately display truth. So I don't think it is accurate to ever say a statement is true . . . even though we will all continue to do so out of convenience and because that's how the English language works. In my mind, to say a statement is true, is sort of hyperbole. I think it would be accurate to say that a statement approaches truth, that it bears likeness to truth, but I don't really think it is possible for a verbal formula to ever encompass truth to the extent that we identify such statement as "true". Yet, again, I think we all continue to say that things are 'true', because that is how we have learned to speak. I would probly get annoyed with myself if I forced myself at all times to say that things approached or finitely contacted the truth. Nonetheless I feel the need to keep track in my head of what I really mean to say. I don't think in the realm of language we can ever take anything at face value.

2. Is discipleship the ultimate goal of following Jesus? Well that seems to what the writers of the Bible thought. They seem pretty emphatic that Jesus wants disciples, and that those who go into the world in his name should make disciples of/in all nations. My issue with this is mostly just a pragmatic one. I meet people frequently of late, who will not be disciples. That's just a fact. Also, in that regard, I think they avoid talking or thinking about Jesus because of the fact that there is an overt agenda on the part of all Christians to make them into disciples. Reflecting back on to what it must have been like when Jesus walked the earth, I don't believe that everyone who heard him speak became a disciple. Yet, I don't really think we can say that Jesus didn't bring some degree of 'salvation' into their lives nonetheless. The people he healed: I don't get the idea that all of them became disciples. Yet they were healed, if not for their discipleship, then mostly because, however briefly, they simply followed him . . . even if only for the brief hours he spent passing through their town, walking through their fields, sitting on their shore. I think we desperately need an arena in modern Christianity for people to simply come into the presence of Jesus as a man, as a teacher, as anything BUT a religious figure. I think that people who do consider themselves to be his disciples need to see the vast importance of respecting human choice and the capacity of EVERY person to interpret Jesus for themselves. I think that claiming Jesus as Lord, Son of God, or simply as rabbi, these are all legitimate interpretations that people will come to based on their experience of him. And, how can they gain such experience of him if discipleship is the ONLY focus, and only respected outcome? If they change things in their lives, but don't call themselves a Christian in the end, can we call this a failure?? Or rather, shouldn't we celebrate the Kingdom of God, as it has increased the good in their life, since after all, that appears to be the chief concern of Jesus himself?

3. Atonement: I'll keep this short. Basically I cannot and won't believe in a God who requires a human atrocity, a child sacrifice, the spilling of blood to rectify his sense of justice. In my mind, that is a perverse sense of justice that is certainly not divine, and in my mind not even worthy of being called human. To me it represents the utmost inhumanity. I can respect what it meant for people in the first century, but I think it has become a mockery of God to believe in our modern context that this presents an acceptable picture of the nature of God. I think we have come to know God better, and I think it is time we abandoned the language that suggests that he was the one who required Jesus' crucifixion to atone for the sins of the world.

4. Virgin birth and truth: 1) There's a lot of debate on this, but nonetheless in Hebrew the word for virgin and young girl were basically interchangeable. So, at least during the oral tradition stage before the NT was written down, there is no clear indication as to whether it was meant to say that Jesus was born of a girl who had never had sex, or simply of a girl who was very, very young. This is significant to me in terms of meaning because it shows that the story of Jesus begins with a girl from an impoverished area, who was in the precarious position of being pregnant out of wedlock, probably under the age of 14. It is hard to imagine a more marginalized and unfortunate character. 2) Later, decades later, Luke (who has little grasp on the nuances of Hebrew) and Matthew take the oral traditions and each create birth narratives. There are vast portions of both narratives that seems quite unhistorical. (i.e. the gifts of frankincense, gold, and myrrh would likely have been enough to secure the purchase to the entire town of Bethlehem including the inn that refused them a room. Thus, Joseph was either a gambler, and idiotic businessman, or the gifts are symbolic and didn't really happen) So, for me, the birth narratives in the NT have nothing to do with history, but are rather making bold implicit statements about the meaning the early Christians had found in Jesus. If there were no magi, the theatrical statement implied is that this Jesus is the king of kings, that rulers from afar, ones who are in tune with God, should recognize the nature of divinity in this man and give him the finest of their wealth. That's a bold assertion, however subtle, in a province ruled by Rome where Caesar demanded that kings of all his conquered nations bring him gold, and burn incense to his divinity in Rome. It's a political statement, not a historical account. For me the point is that I can see God working as an inhuman tyrant, or as a human, and utterly human, impoverished peasant and teacher. The point in the gospels has little if anything to do with factual truth, but rather with the very nature of God . . . in such a discussion facts fade into irrelevance, while statements of meaning carry the greatest importance.

5. For me, the point of Jesus is the experience of God, and the reality that we call his Kingdom for lack of a better term. I feel that there was a time in my life where Christianity introduced me and brought me to see this reality and the God therein, but as I've changed and grown Christianity has done more to repel me from it. It has distracted me and tried to fit my understanding of it into frames of reference that have nothing to do with God and everything to do with tradition and politics. The harder I feel this pressed upon me the more I feel the need to push the other direction, the more I feel the need to distance myself from any sort of allegiance for the sake of being able to find a faith that is true; in the fullest sense, true. At this point in my life, I can't even pretend I have anything to 'offer' someone were they to ask me about Jesus. I could challenge someone and help them find liberation from conventionality in faith, but to guide them directly to God, I won't pretend I have found a clear path. For all my wanderings in the desert, which I've found is quite beautiful though also fearful, I still haven't found a way to guide others. I'll guide you out of Egypt, but I haven't found Canaan yet. Maybe some day.



Marcos:
heres' some Kung for you, he spends a lot of time talking about the alternatives of faith in the most basic sense, or nihilism, both he argues, are legitimate, and both are more indicative of attitudes than of mental processes.

"'The academic expert, concentrated on his special field (mathematics, history, natural science), does not like to be told that basic assumptions of his thinking are metaphysical in character; the metaphysician does not like to be told that his mental activity rests on a prerational, primordial decision; philosophers of all types - apart from skeptics - do not like to be told that the kinds of skepticism that are to be taken seriously are irrefutable; and skeptics themselves, of all shades, do no like to admit that they cannot prove their standpoint. Such a complex assessment more or less provokes the indignant protest: 'This cannot possibly be your last word. One way or another, there must be a solution of some kind.' To which I can reply: 'The solution is in your hands, and any time. Make up your mind. Decide.'"

"even the reasonableness of reason is often uncertain. And, it is not an argument of reason, but a trust in reason, that even critical rationalists must simply assume as the basis of their entire system. Karl Popper saw this clearly and admitted it: 'Rationalism appreciates argument and theory and verification by experience. But this decision for rationalism cannot in its own turn be justified by argument and experience. Although it can be discussed, it rests ultimately on an irrational decision, on faith in reason."

His basic point is that this faith in anything, whether science, religion, or simply waking up in the morning, stems from our attitude toward reality which is an attitude we each choose.

"a particular attitude to life, to the world, to reality. But, in the face of the threat so often concretely experienced in ordinary life by the nothingness, transitoriness, decay, forlorness, finiteness of all that is human and earthly, even the person who passes his life in mental idiocy and superficiality is continually forced to make a decision."

I hear the silence too. Frequently. I'm not convinced that it's final though, and I doubt you are either. I think that is one thing I gleaned from Six Feet Under, at the end of it all, men will pursue meaning at the cost of everything . . . essentially the pursuit of meaning is the last choice that anyone makes . . not that that's what Alan Ball was trying to say, just that's something I came to understand through it. I think it's true that meaninglessness is not a viable option. We can make due in the midst of it, but in the long run meaning is what matters. And for me, and perhaps for you, it is always illusive. Yet, for myself, I've decided it's there even when I'm not sure where.

Wednesday, December 19, 2007

all our reasons

There is a lot of money poured into apologetics. We speak as though it matters. Funny how far we've come: a few hundred years ago "the church" spent all its time denying the validity of reason as opposed to faith. All were supposed to believe things based on the authority of the church, or the authority of Scripture.

And we find ourselves now in a setting where the authority of the church has been sufficiently crushed, and now we find the masses of evangelical Christianity attempting to shore up the shoddy foundation of Scriptural authority. We offer our apologies.

To do so we have thus found an awkward alliance between Christians and Enlightenment rationality. We haven't gotten very far trying to win arguments by appeals to blind faith, so now we have started buying up stock in the rationality department. After centuries of persecuting rationalists in universities . . we now bemoan our underdog status as professors lose jobs for squeamishly giving favor to intelligent design. Meanwhile forgetting that in centuries past it was the professors losing their heads (literally) for following the course of Enlightened thinking. Christendom whines that turn-about ceased to be fair play when we lost our power and privilege.

Nonetheless Lee Stroble turns out a new best-seller every year trying to convince us that we have no reason to doubt . . . that we are just as in the right as we have ever been. Should everyone else come around to our rationality maybe we could reinstate the Inquisition in a few years. Lord knows the neo-crusades are going on as splendid as crusades ever go.

So, we try to jockey for spots on the board of directors for the rationality project. While in the meantime, we try to deny admission of other faiths. After all, Christianity has been around long enough to seal up that discussion . . . obviously we are the only ones who have ever connected with God. Everyone else who appeals to their own faith in God must be way off, and if I need prove it allow me to pull out any of my vitriolic apologetics books.

Christendom's circular formula: to win a debate between faiths, appeal to reason. To win a debate between various rationalities, boil it down and then call it a leap of faith. Superiority is achieved.

The problem in my mind is that the world ceased caring about our dualistic thinking a long time ago.
We say Jesus was born of a virgin. But, so was Caesar . . . so therefore God has as many misses as hits in the parenting department.
Jesus raised from the dead . . . well, that's far from being a unique story in antiquity.
Jesus was sinless, perfect, etc. Which is why he looks so utterly inhuman in every theatric account of him I've ever seen.

These are a few of the concepts that come to mind when I say that the issue with Jesus has ceased to be historicity . . . but rather meaning. Apologetics may shore up shoddy foundations, but they don't manage to do a damn thing for those who have ceased to care about apologies. I ceased believing in the virgin birth as a historical fact a long time ago . . . so my question is, if we start from there can you tell me that it still has any meaning??? I think that applies across the board when we read our Bibles. People will choose to believe or not believe based on their experience of the world and their attitude toward truth, BUT the question isn't do I believe that the stories happened, but rather do I believe they carry any meaning into my context.

We can pour through history books and find all manner of strange and obscure facts, but the question remains do they mean anything.

We have to also remember that this is a question that always continues from generation to generation. All of us ask it regardless of the answers others have found, for us it is new and pertinent. There is no formula to answer the question of meaning. No one can simply point the way to it. Meaning is illusive and the possibility of finding only a void remains significant for all of us.

If God acted 2000 years ago or 2 weeks ago, but ceases to act, to be present, to be real from this point forward then all the apologies of our past are worthless. All the arguments for intelligent design are superficial if this same Designer has ceased to play a major role in the mundane events of our daily lives. AND, perhaps more important is that all the facts against an intelligent design also amount to nothing should we experience the meaning of such stories in spite of the doubts we may have.

The point is that for the individual believer, what is crucial is not the rational OR the irrational appeal, but the existential experience of meaning. We can amass volumes of reasons which reach to the sky, and the likelihood is that meaninglessness will continue to prevail across our society. People will parrot their "belief", but their lives and attitudes will continue to reflect the worthlessness that continually haunts them.

Saturday, December 15, 2007

saturday morning.

So, it's one semester down.
I've become re-immersed in suburban North Dallas culture. I find myself rushing everywhere, as though I really have somewhere to be. I have two tickets to remind me of how silly it is to presume there's anything so important in life to get in a hurry over. . . . . Damn red light cameras.
I came back to Dallas after three fourths a year of solitude. Now, thank God, I find myself increasingly surrounded by people. Though nothing is like I thought it would be. Nine months of loneliness does wonders for your thinking, while committing atrocities on one's social skills.
I guess I thought I'd renew old friendships to their former glory. At least that was what I attempted to do at first. But, the glory of days past never respects us when we summon it. Relationships change because we are never the same. The only way to regain our friendships at their former level is to go back to being who we were then; to become who we were, but aren't any longer. Being our past self feels good from time to time, but I think we all know that we've changed for good reasons.
So, I've been dealing with the bittersweet truth of moving on. And none of that is intended to say that old friendships are gone. They are what they are: different. Less intimate, but old, which makes them distinct. There is always a level at which you can pick up where you left off . . only I'm not the same person as when I put them down. That's why it's not the same. The same goes for them. I've always placed a lot of importance on geography in terms of relationships, now I have experience to back up such theses.

I didn't feel like going out for coffee this morning. But, here I am.
My mom is wrapping Christmas presents, which makes her far too irritable to enjoy resting at home on a Saturday morning.
It's cold and grey outside. It finally feels like winter. Most of the leaves are finally abandoning the trees . . . midway through December. Texas is odd.
Days like today are adept at sparking creativity. When everything seems barren, I feel the need to compensate.
The impending depression of watching nature give up on another year makes me want to bear something fruitful, even if it's just words.
I sit here taking stock of what these 4 months have accomplished.
Three A's. Ten hours to credit to my name.
A new passion for learning new things.
New friends. Maybe one's whom I can trust.
Time with my parents, who, I'm just now realizing, are not eternal.
Ceasing to hate my home, and so maybe I'm one step closer to loving myself.
Eleven new books on my 'finished' shelf.
Two new songs.
Maybe a new direction.
Maybe a new openness to the future which I won't determine.
Maybe a new chance to rest at peace . . . as myself . . . whoever that might be.

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

emerging . . . and what it means to follow

So, I'm loving my new church. These are words I didn't really figure I'd be typing out . . . ever. Here are a few reasons:

1. It is the best example I have ever seen of a church without dogma. As best as I can tell, they seriously, actually, and in action, respect the right of everyone to make choices . . . and they love each other regardless. Example: I am one who does not believe in the atonement . . . which has meant that I have a priori been at odds with every church I have attended for the last 3 years. This church, amazingly, sees that Jesus has a point even if I don't believe in him as the atonement for my sins . . . my beliefs in this regard are a matter of choice based on what I think is true, and they love me regardless, and respect my choices . . .
2. Practically everyone uses curse words with frequency (there are exceptions). I think this is cool because it gives an air of authenticity . . it is a very superficial behavior that for some reason serves as a very significant indicator of their attitude toward conventional Christianity.
3. There are no fully supported ministers. I think our main . . . pastorette? . . . she only gets a minor fraction of her families income . . . otherwise all funds are used on behalf of the community (building, charity, etc.) Also, they rotate preaching/discussion duties. It's a church with no pope. Novel concept, I know.
4. Egalitarianism. As indicated above, the community is mainly led by a woman, and that makes me happy. Patriarchy is crap.
5. Intelligence is actually a virtue . . . and they really mean it. No, really, . . . seriously, they mean it. For real. And no, I'm not kidding.

So, here's my theology behind this, which you've probly heard before. Read the Gospels, and tell me where following Jesus presented a list to the crowds of people up front: "If you're going to follow and listen first you must . . . " I don't see any place where there were preconditions to follow and listen to him.

I mean, where exactly did following gain the implication of mimicking? To follow Jesus is not the same as adopting his actions and practices. I think it is quite safe to say that a majority of the people over the course of his life did not adopt his life-style. And I think it quite valid to seriously question whether they were wrong in not doing so?

Granted Jesus, according to his biographers, ultimately desired disciples . . . but how many chose discipleship without first following him for a while? Take Mathias in acts . . . we have every indication that he had been an active follower for a minimum of a year, possibly as many as 4 years before he was counted as a disciple or an apostle. I doubt he was the only one. I'm quite sure there were many who followed Jesus for intermittent periods. People followed and listened as he (seemingly) aimlessly wandered the Judaean countryside. I imagine many of them did this until for whatever variety of reasons they needed to return home; to work, to family, to life-as-usual. Maybe they weren't true disciples, but perhaps they modified their lives however slightly on account of the time they spent with Jesus.

It certainly doesn't appear that to be around Jesus they first were required to verbally/cognitively required to adopt a certain stance toward him. There was no, "Do you accept Jesus as Messiah, and soon-to-be atoning sacrifice for your sins?"
"Uh, I guess"
"OK, we'll let you listen for now, but rest assured we'll be testing your commitment later on in this trip."
" . . . crap, I just wanted to see if he had anything good to say . . ."
"No, no, that's not an option."

And, what of the masses that appear to have listened to Jesus, and though they probly didn't deny his good points, they certainly don't appear to have abandoned everything and jumped the bandwagon? Can we say they were evil sinners doomed to hell? Suppose they adopted his 60% of his attitude/teachings? Suppose they chose to follow occasionally, but did not see discipleship as a true option for themselves? What of these people?

I don't know if there is a more important question in our modern situation, because I meet these people everyday . . . and wonder frequently if I'm not more like them, than those "disciples". I mean in a practical sense, I see myself intermittently following Jesus, but I don't often catch myself selling my possessions to feed the poor and sleeping at the homeless shelter downtown so as to preach of the Kingdom . . . and frankly I don't see myself changing this anytime soon.

So, am I going to hell? I doubt it, though I'm sure there are plenty of self-righteous pessimists who might disagree; the same pessimists who live lives just as comfortable as mine, but since I'm attempting to reject self-deception they would say my conscience condemns me . . . . blah blah blah.

I think the truth is that there are a precious few disciples of Jesus in our world . . . though there is a countless mass of those who would call themselves such though their lives bear no resemblance to Jesus. This mass has a whole list of criteria by which to measure who is and is not among the chosen disciples, like themselves. Yet these "disciples" own houses with beds, they have retirement plans, and are good upstanding Republicans who are in good standing with America at large; and all these offer solid indications that they are anything but disciples of Jesus . . . that their lives look nothing like his and thus they are only deceiving themselves when they claim to be students of his.

The world sees this quite plainly. The world is not near as idiotic as Christians wish they were. They hate Jesus, because if these are his students, then he was obviously a lot more of an asshole that his biographers let on. They can't be fooled so easily by the stale, hollow, and neurotic justifications we try to throw out to cover the hideous inconsistencies we bear in relation to our "Lord".

Rather than this, I pose we call ourselves what we are: followers. We frequently don't employ Jesus' example ourselves . . . in fact it is far more common to not do as Jesus would than the other way around. But, implicit in this is the simple fact that there is nothing required of us to follow. The follower maintains his autonomy. He goes as far as he is willing, and then returns to what he knows. He listens, accepting some things the teacher says and rejecting others. He observes, taking on some practices and avoiding others.

But, would Jesus have been against this? There are certainly plenty of places where he makes a point to put a decision to the crowds. He doesn't make following him easy. His challenges remain for the intermittent follower just as for the disciple. Must every person be a disciple before they can consider what he has to say? Before they can be challenged by him? Or perhaps the greater question: can any ever be a disciple without first being a follower?

I believe the "emergent" church is really an attempt to create a conducive environment for those who wish to follow Jesus, who (most for quite legitimate personal/experiential reasons) cannot call themselves a disciple, much less a "Christian", but with the hope that the message and life of Jesus can still be a potent (and positive) challenge to secular culture.