I have a confession to make. I am not a fan of apologetics. So often, it seems like the practice of apologetics becomes a kind of mental gymnastics to smash square theories into round holes. Apologetics is like the nicer, better looking brother of the conspiracy theory. The “everything must fit” mentality that often drives some people’s use of apologetics seems to, more often than not, lead to some far fetched, damaging theories. I submit as exhibits A and B, the Gap Theory and the Day/Age Theory. Both of these theories are attempts to bash a square Bible into the round hole of science. Why can’t we just stop, take a breath, and realize that not everything has to fit perfectly? That’s not how the world works, and that’s not how the Bible was written (more on this later).
Back to my confession. So much of what I’ve been doing here with these blogs about homosexuality is starting to feel like apologetics to me, and it’s really turning me off. I’ve been so tempted to end this series by channeling Inigo Montoya and saying, “You keep using that verse. It doesn’t mean what you think it means.” Period. End of discussion. But that wouldn’t be fair, would it?
So here I am, trying my best to muster the energy to tackle Paul, or, better yet, the common misinterpretation of Paul’s comments on human sexuality – and doing so in a fair way instead of going the way of Mr. Montoya. With that, I’ll make my first pithy statement:
1. When Paul talks about homosexuality and when we talk about homosexuality, we’re not talking about the same thing.
Paul’s understanding of homosexuality is very different from ours. To Paul, it’s all about the act. That’s all he sees and all he knows. He doesn’t talk about homosexual desire or homosexual orientation. In fact, sexual orientation or sexual identity in general – hetero or homo – are not concepts in Paul’s mind.
He sees the raw data that is the act of homosexual sex, and to make matters worse, in the culture in which he writes, homosexual sex acts are mostly performed in connection with ritual pagan worship. Paul sees heterosexual men participating in pagan temple worship, and this participation often included homosexual sex with one of the many male temple prostitutes. The concept of men and women having a homosexual orientation and living in monogamous, homosexual relationships is something unheard of for Paul.
2. When we translate any of Paul’s so-called references to homosexuality using the word “homosexual,” we’re mistranslating.
I’m not sure how to approach this point. I could lay out all the details about the various Greek words Paul uses, and I could go through a detailed lexical analysis of each word. However, I’m not sure I could do that and keep your attention. It’s all a bit technical and nuanced – as language tends to be. So I’ll spare you and just say this:
As I mentioned above, Paul, when he uses words that have been translated over the last hundred years or so as “homosexual,” he’s not thinking about the same thing as we are when we use those words. There’s a lot of evidence that he has pedophiles and child molesters in mind, not adult homosexual men and women. As with all discussions of sexuality in scripture, the only condemnation we see is condemnation of deviant forms of sexuality, and this is no different. When grown men sexually abuse and manipulate young men, it’s wrong. When heterosexual men have sex with male prostitutes, it’s wrong.
But what would Paul say if he came across a homosexual couple who are involved in a loving, committed relationship? Who knows! He didn’t have that category, so he didn’t comment on it. And the words he used didn’t take this category of human sexuality into account.
So to translate the Greek words Paul uses in Romans and 1 Corinthians as “homosexual” or some form of that word is, at best, missing the mark, and, at worse, a gross mistranslation.
3. When we focus on homosexuality, especially in Romans 1, we miss the point entirely.
Sometimes we forget, when we’re reading Romans 1, to continue on to Romans 2:
You, therefore, have no excuse, you who pass judgment on someone else, for at whatever point you judge the other, you are condemning yourself, because you who pass judgment do the same things. Now we know that God’s judgment against those who do such things is based on truth. So when you, a mere man, pass judgment on them and yet do the same things, do you think you will escape God’s judgment? Or do you show contempt for the riches of his kindness, tolerance and patience, not realizing that God’s kindness leads you toward repentance?
Oopsie! Sorry Paul, I didn’t know you were trying to teach us about a kind of self-righteousness that causes us to be intolerant, impatient, and judgmental. I liked it better when you were just talking about icky homosexuals (sorry, Inigo is coming out again).
In all seriousness, there is a reason Paul sets up what he sets up in Romans 1, and that is what follows in Romans 2. We have no room to pronounce judgment on others based on what they do or how they live. I believe Paul might also say it this way: “When you point the finger, there are three fingers pointing right back at you.” Or maybe you prefer Jesus’ approach in Matthew 7:4: “How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye?”
(Down Inigo! Down boy!)
So even if we come to the conclusion that Paul’s understanding of homosexuality is the same as what we call homosexuality today and that it should be condemned, we still have no room for intolerance, impatience, and judgment – Paul’s words, not mine.
The way I see it, this is pretty simple. What we thought we knew about the Bible and homosexuality just isn’t based on proper exegesis. We’ve approached the Bible backwards for too long. We’ve allowed our current cultural understanding and our own negative feelings toward same-sex relationships to inform our reading of the Bible. We’re projecting our own prejudice on the witness of scripture. We decided that we don’t like something, so of course the Bible agrees with us. It’s something that has happened many times throughout history, and no one is immune to the tendency to read personal prejudice into the text.
(My apologies for taking so long to finish this discussion. To be completely frank, I grew weary of it – not because the issue isn’t important to me, but because, for lack of a better phrase, I moved beyond it. People are gay. That’s a fact. We can’t ignore it anymore or pretend scripture has our back on this issue. We have to move beyond the debates and start doing something about the fact that there are millions of gay and lesbian Christians, and God loves them as much as he loves us. Let’s lay down our swords and start opening our arms. The fight is over.)
Lately I’ve been struggling with the idea of Apologetics.
(Hi, by the way. I know I’ve been gone a long time. It’s a very long story, and I may get into it someday, but for now, let’s just move on. Cool?)
You know what I mean when I use the term “Apologetics.” It’s that defending of the Christian faith – that ability to provide an air-tight defense of what Christians believe. Apologetics done “well” usually sound or read like the closing statements of an expensive lawyer. They involve compelling language and hard facts. At times, the detail to which the apologist goes is astounding, parsing phrases and words in order to caulk the edges of his or her defense.
I gotta admit: I’m not a fan.
One of the biggest reasons I struggle with the Apologetics approach is that the Apology is almost never wrong (I almost wrote “never wrong,” but I should probably leave some room here). With enough clever wording and tricky maneuvering, a good apologist can prove almost any point.
To be fair, I’m mostly referring to Christian Apologetics. I think this is where we can observe the dangers of the Apology most readily. Just consider how much ink has been spilled to prove, without a doubt (and to pick a hot topic right now), the existence of a hell – i.e. a literal place of eternal conscious torment. Many good Christians have written millions of words on this very topic, citing Bible verse after Bible verse, building their air-tight case that proves, without a doubt, that hell exists.
Yet so much more ink has been spilled in defense of the exact opposite position – that there is no hell, or that God will save everyone, or that evil people cease to exist when they die, and on and on. And with each of these Apologies, the apologist provides Bible verse after Bible verse, creating his or her own air-tight defense of whatever point of view he or she is defending.
So who wins? The person with the best Apology? Because both are pretty good. Who gets to judge which is best? Me? You? The community of believers?
And that’s my problem with Apologetics. Anyone can defend just about anything and find enough evidence to do so. There’s got to be a better way.
Yes, I’ve had quite the year, and that’s a big part of the reason I haven’t finished my blog series on the Bible and homosexuality.
But there’s another reason. I’m starting to feel like an apologist. I’m starting to feel like an evidence peddler.
“Step right up, folks! I’ve got a bunch of cool verses that prove my point. And check out what I can do here with a little Greek word study. Pretty nifty, eh?”
And honestly, I’m at the point in the process where becoming an apologist is necessary. The kinds of things Paul has to say about homosexuality in his letters and the words he uses are just not normal for us. In short, us and Paul, we’re on different pages on the issue. But that takes some time to explain.
Don’t get me wrong. I want to explain it, and I will very soon. Part of the reason I want to talk about Paul’s understanding of homosexuality is because I genuinely believe, based on theological reflection, that God loves homosexuals, and that a homosexual Christian is not an oxymoron.
So even though I have to get over my current disgust of Apologetics to do it, I will. I just might need a couple more days.
I’ve been having the thought lately that we as Christians have done a pretty good job at making something that was once profound, radical, and deep into something that is cheap and shallow. That “something” to which I refer is really a bunch of somethings: it’s the Bible, both Jewish and Christian tradition, and even God. Am I overstating this? probably, but let me try to work out my point here.
Take, for example, the Creation account of Genesis 1 and 2. Most scholars, both Christian and otherwise, see the Creation poems in the beginning of Genesis as the beautiful expression of a pre-scientific people as they try to explain what they see in the world as it relates to what they know of God. They perfectly and poetically describe the human condition – our tendency toward what is wrong or evil – and they show a benevolent and personal God. This is all compelling and radical stuff! If you take a glance at some other Ancient Near Eastern creation accounts (which pre-date the Genesis account), you’ll find much of the same material as the Genesis account, with a few important exceptions: chief of which is the existence of a good and personal God. The Creations narratives in Genesis 1 and 2 are understood as mythology* – as stories that express deep and real truth.
But many Christians see the Creation narratives in Genesis 1 and 2 as a type of ancient police report. They see a real Adam and Eve, a talking snake, and a literal six day creation. What was meant to be a profound expression of who God is becomes a cheap and shallow historical account of creation (just the facts, ma’am). The beauty is gone, and all that is left are the so-called “facts” to argue. Some people even devote their lives to forcing the poems of a pre-scientific people into objective history. How sad! And, in my opinion, how cheap and shallow!
I know, that sounds harsh. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to say these people are cheap and shallow. What I’m trying to do is stick up for the Bible and for what it was created to be and defend it when people try to make it something it’s not – especially when that something is so small. I’m saying the view these people support is a cheap and shallow view. They see the Bible as a report of historical fact.
Think about that. When a police officer writes a report of an incident, no one cares how poetic he or she is. No one is in awe at how completely he or she grasps the human condition. No one is stunned by this person’s knowledge of and connection to the people involved in the incident. All they need to see are the raw facts.
But this is not the purpose of Genesis 1 and 2. What we need to see when we read these words is the power of God through people who interacted regularly with this God. We need to see how well these people understood the human condition and how serious they portrayed humanity’s need for God. They did not set out to record the raw facts of the Creation of the world. They wanted to show a God who cares and who created out of love, and they wanted to show a human race that leans toward the wrong thing.
With that in mind, Genesis 1 and 2 take on a beauty and reality that is unmatched by historical fact. The stories of Genesis 1 and 2 become, as Rob Bell puts it, our own stories. We have the tendency to lean toward evil. We need a good and gracious God. How cheap and shallow to turn these stories into mere historical facts on a page.
*I understand Christians’ animosity toward the notion of myth, especially as it relates to the Bible. But I think myth is something we need to get comfortable with again. Myth is not bad. Myth does not equal false or lie. Myth, in this sense, is a fictional story that explains a very real truth. I will write more on myth later.
The book of Acts is a complex narrative. Let me just start with that. It follows many characters on their journeys to spread this new movement of God through the Roman empire. It’s epic and exciting, through-provoking and humbling. It’s a huge book! But bear with me for a second while I oversimplify it.
If you take a birds eye look at Acts, you see a bunch of people who think they have heard a new Word from God – specifically that Jesus is God revealed, and his death and resurrection signify a new way of life and the inbreaking reign of God. Being commissioned by Jesus to tell everyone they can about this new Word, they set out to make history. Despite stubbornness from the apostles (they didn’t really feel like leaving Jerusalem), this new Word spreads.
At several points, Luke reminds the reader of the great opposition these people face as they spread this Word. It comes from a lot of places, but mostly, it comes from the Jews. Think about that. This new Word from God was birthed out of the Jewish religion, and this new Word, while being connected to that parent religion, is also different from it. So naturally, the Jewish leaders don’t like it and fight it whenever they can. But the fact remains that it is from the same roots. Some would say it is the fulfillment of the parent religion.
But the point is that the Jewish leaders did not like the idea of anyone claiming he or she was given a new Word from God. They were the proud keepers of God’s Word, and to suggest that God was working something new was absurd.
A lot of them became quite hostile to these revolutionaries, claiming they were distorting the truth and destroying God’s name. Pretty serious stuff! But not all of them were quite as hostile. Gamaliel said to his angry associates about these revolutionaries, “I tell you, keep away from these men and let them alone; because if this plan or this undertaking is of human origin, it will fail; but if it is of God, you will not be able to overthrow them—in that case you may even be found fighting against God!” (Acts 5:38-39).
So Gamaliel seemed to be open to the idea that these people could be hearing a new Word from God, and even if he didn’t agree completely, he was wise enough to know that if it was empty and Spirit-less, it would fail.
What’s the point? I believe first of all that God did not stop speaking when the canon of scripture was closed. God continues to speak, and we can hear a new Word from God even now. I also believe many people today are hearing a new Word and trying very hard to make it known – but these people are experiencing hostility from the “mother religion”, i.e. fundamentalist Christianity.
Let me be a little transparent here – This blog post is very much a reaction to conversations I’ve had with others who are hostile to the idea that the Christian faith needs reframing. In particular, these people are hostile against the likes of Rob Bell, Brian McClaren, Shane Claiborne, and others.
So what am I really trying to say? I’m not exactly sure to be honest. Since this post is mostly reactionary, it’s hard for anyone reading it to get the idea of what I’m trying to say because it’s very one sided. I admit that.
All I can say is that if you really think that people are not hearing a new Word from God right now, at least have the wisdom to shut up and wait and see if this new Word holds water. If it doesn’t, it will die out. If it does and you fight it, you’ll be fighting against God.
What if there was someone who could look inside you – look into your soul and see its color? What if you could go to this person, and she would tell you whether or not your were really a good person… if you really had a good heart? And this person was completely reliable. This was not a parlor trick to make money. This was the real deal – objective if you will. How cool would that be?
Now imagine this person exists, and you go to her, and she says, “Yes, you are pure of heart.” How profoundly would that change the way you live?
Doubt would be gone. The scream of guilt would be muted. The feeling of “not being good enough” would fade away. You would know that you are pure, good, healthy; that nothing was wrong with you.
Is that appealing to you? It is to me.
So often I feel like I’m a bit of a fraud. I feel like the downstairs of my “house” is in good order and ready for guests, but the upstairs is a mess, and no one is allowed up there. Maybe I’m the only one that feels this way, but I have a feeling that I’m not.
So what if someone could look at you and tell you, “You’re fine! Your house is clean. Let the guests roam!” To me, that would be incredible.
But isn’t that kind of what the sacrifice of Jesus has done for us? We can start seeing ourselves as “pure of heart,” no matter what kind of impurity we’re used to. Jesus is that person. He looks at us and says, “Run along now. It’s all good. Forget that old stuff. Live this new stuff.” How incredible!
And when we say, “But I didn’t make the bed! I didn’t put my clothes away! I think I left the seat up!” Jesus says, “Hey. It’s all good! Forget it. I took care of it.” I like that. God help me to live like that.
The following is an interpretive assignment I did for a class at Fuller called “Exegetical Method and Practice” with Marianne Meye Thompson. I’m posting it mainly to link it to another discussion I am having with friends on facebook. I had to transliterate the Greek, and I’m not so good at that, so forgive me. Also, interpretive assignments ask a lot of questions and don’t draw very many conclusions, so you’ll notice that it doesn’t have a thesis or conclusion. It’s more of an exploration.
Mark 10:13-16 – Interpretive Assignment (23 January 2007)
In chapter 10 of his narrative, Mark provides a pericope detailing the circumstances surrounding an event in which people brought children to be blessed by Jesus. On the surface, the passage seems to promote ministry to children and encourage a blind, “child-like” reception of “Christianity” into the believer’s heart. However, a closer reading may provide a slightly different conclusion.
This specific narrative in Mark is well documented by all of the synoptic writers. Both Matthew and Luke place the narrative in their gospels, and both stay true to Mark’s order of events in terms of context. Mark and Matthew place Jesus in Judea at the time of the narrative (Mark 10:1, Matt. 19:1), but it is not clear this information affects the interpretation of the passage. It seems the pericope stands as an independent unit and does not hinge on the previous or following passages. Since it is not found in a series of parables or a discourse of Jesus, it can stand alone. Mark seems to be using a story to promote an aspect of the kingdom of God. However, there is somewhat of a thematic context preceding and following Mark 10:13-16. In chapter 9, the disciples (specifically Peter, James, and John) witnessed the transfiguration. Following the description of this beautiful and powerful event, Mark provides several stories of failure and rebuke on the part of the disciples. Was Mark trying to show contrast of heavenly glory versus earthly mediocrity and failure? It would seem so considering the evidence of the pericopes dealing with human failure (i.e. failure to heal the demon possessed boy in 9:14ff, failure to understand the hierarchy of the kingdom of God in 9:33ff, Jesus’ rebukes of the disciples and others in 9:39, 9:42, 10:14, 10:38, 10:49, etc.).
An interesting question arises with the use of apsatai (third singular present middle subjunctive from apto) which carries several meanings depending on the usage. In BDAG apto can mean “to kindle” or “light”, “to make close contact, to touch, cling to, have sexual contact, etc.” In Mark 10:13, the term most likely refers to “touching as a means of conveying a blessing.” Were the people bringing the children to Jesus so that he might provide some kind of rabbinical blessing, or did they recognize him as the Messiah and perhaps wanted some kind of messianic blessing for their children? If the term does not carry the connotation of blessing, were they just bringing their children to Jesus for healing, or simply to have their children held by a “celebrity?” Whatever definition fits best, the question remains as to why the disciples did not want this to happen. Was it beneath their transfigured Lord to do such a thing? Was there a limited amount of time? Were the children interrupting Jesus during an important theological teaching?
The textual variant in this passage seems to be an attempt by scribes to soften the disciples’ actions. The highly supported reading of the text leaves the direct object of the disciples rebuke unclear. They could be rebuking those bringing the children or the children themselves. Some manuscripts added epetimon tois prosferousin or some form of that phrase to clarify that the disciples were rebuking the ones bringing the children. Still, why did the disciples feel the need to stop what was happening? Were children considered less than human or outcasts of society?
Jesus becomes angry with the disciples actions and rebukes them, insisting that the children be brought to him. Three times in this passage Mark uses paidion to refer to the children instead of the more common teknon. BDAG defines paidion as “a child, normally below the age of puberty” while teknon usually refers to a descendent or offspring. Mark wants his readers to know that these children are young. Were they babies? Was this a custom of the Jews to bring a baby to a teacher at a certain age to be blessed?
After the rebuke, Mark provides the theological truth intended by the narrative. Jesus states “the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Truly I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child will not enter it at all” (10:14b-15 NASB). Using the strongest negation possible (ou ma) Jesus, in a sense, says it is completely impossible to enter the Kingdom of God in any other way. This use of ou ma should cause the reader to pause and consider what was just read. But what does Jesus mean by the phrase, “receive the kingdom of God like a child?” Does this mean to receive it with blind faith? Does this mean to receive it happily and care free? Does he have something else in mind? Is this concept similar to the one found in Matthew 10:16 when Jesus said “so be shrewd as serpents and innocent as doves” (NASB)? Does he mean something along the lines of what Paul wrote in Romans 16:19b: “I want you to be wise in what is good and innocent in what is evil” (NASB)? Is it the innocence of the child that is to be mirrored? Is Jesus teaching the concept of “rebirth” which he describes to Nicodemus in John, 3:3?
Could there also be a nuance in the wording of the passage? Could Jesus mean, “whoever does not receive the Kingdom of God like I am receiving these children will not enter it,” as opposed to the more common reading of, “whoever does not receive the Kingdom of God like these children receive the Kingdom of God will not enter it?” If this is the case, the focus should be on the actions of Jesus and not the actions of the little children. Perhaps the reader should be considering the way Jesus reaches out to the poor, the widows, women in general, and children. Perhaps the reader should be reminded of the parable of the sheep and the goats in Matthew 25:31ff where the most important thing is the actions of believers to the poor, sick, jailed, hungry, etc. To enter the Kingdom of God, one must accept those to whom the Kingdom belongs, which in Mark 10:14b is the little children. This reading seems entirely possible, except when compared to Matthew 18:3-4 when Jesus is quoted as saying, “Truly I say to you, unless you are converted and become like children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever then humbles himself as this child, he is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven” (NASB). With this reading in mind, one could interpret Jesus words in Mark in a similar manner, making the Mark passage promote a child-like faith. However, in Matthew 18:5, Jesus also says, “and whoever receives one such child in my name receives me,” (NASB) providing evidence for a social justice reading of Mark 10:13-16. It would seem the passage could go either way.
Finally, Jesus takes the children in his arms and blesses them. This action is common for Jesus. He often touches the socially outcast, the poor, the sick, etc. In Mark 1:41 he touches the man with leprosy. In Mark 5:41 Jesus touches the dead girl and brings her back to life. Jesus often touched those whom society considered outcast or unclean. Perhaps Jesus is showing his disciples in this passage that the ministry of the Kingdom of God is a ministry of social justice.
Further evidence can be found in the fact that Jesus demonstrates his teaching at the end of the passage. He instructs his disciples to receive the kingdom of God as children, and then he receives the children.
Cited: Danker, F. W. A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature. 3d ed. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000)
I’m a Fuller Seminary graduate. That’s right – on Saturday, June 13, 2009, the degree of Master of Arts in Theology was conferred to me. President Mouw said something about it not being official yet, but I wasn’t listening.
So the big question that everyone (and I do mean everyone) is asking me is some form of “now what?” I complete the degree, so what’s the next step? Pastor a huge church? Join the faculty of Duke? Write the next “Velvet Elvis“? Make Bono look like a lazy politician?
Let me give you a short history of my educational life:
In the Spring of 1999, I began to work on a Bachelors degree in Pastoral Ministry at Valley Forge Christian College. The goal at that point was to some day become a pastor. I remember very clearly that I wanted to be a senior pastor and not a youth pastor. I’m not sure why that’s important right now.
In December of 2002, I finished that degree and moved to Camp Hill, PA to become the executive director of a singles ministry called CROSSFIRE. Not exactly pastoring, but close enough for the time being. I got to do some great stuff with the group of people I felt most called to work with – college age men and women.
In April of 2004, I decided I wanted more in terms of education. I enjoyed working with college age students, but I wanted to have more impact on them as a professor than as a pastor in the local church. To make that a reality, I needed more education. I looked into Fuller Seminary (really the only school I seriously considered), made the decision with Nikki to move to California to attend, and started making the necessary steps to make that decision a reality.
In March of 2006, we made it out to Pasadena, and I began a Masters degree at Fuller. The original goal was to move into a PhD soon after getting the MA so I could work toward becoming a professor.
That brings us up to today and the question at hand – What’s next?
Honestly, I’m not totally sure. I can tell you two things for certain; one more philosophical and the other more practical.
During the graduation ceremony, I had a bit of an epiphany as to what I feel is my calling in life. I devised a crude missions statement on the spot. That missions statement is as follows:
“To cultivate well-informed Christians who are capable of deep and critical thought.”
That I know for sure is what makes the gears move in my head. But how does it play out in my life? Sure, at some point I would love to teach at the university or seminary level – to be able to directly influence people to engage in critical thought. That’s just not a reality for me right now. I need more education.
Which leads me to the more practical aspect of “what I know.” I will be starting a full-time position at Fuller as a recruiter beginning July 6. This feeds directly into my mission because Fuller is a place that cultivates Christians think deeply and critically. As a recruiter, I can have an indirect influence on the intellectual development of these people as I encourage them to consider a seminary education.
Why am I writing all this? Well, mostly for myself I guess. I don’t want to forget what makes me tick. I don’t want to have an epiphany and then lose it because I forgot to give it much thought. So here it is… and as a byproduct, you get to read it (if you’ve even lasted this long).
But maybe there are more out there like me. I know a few Fuller students and alum read this blog… you may be in the same position. The reason you started seminary has become obsolete, and the future is not clear. Be encouraged. There is something inside of you that drives you. Find what that is and be creative about how you can live that out.
I’ve been amazed by creative power lately… so amazed, I’m not even sure how to express it. I have been speechless several times over the last few weeks at the creative power of music, especially live music. Think about it: when you go to a live show, you are hearing pure creativity that probably will never be heard again. Sure, the artist is doing a song that he or she recorded years ago and has performed thousands of times. But they always seem to add something to it that’s different – some unusual emphasis – some crazy run – maybe even some raw emotion. And all of that is probably something that will never be duplicated in the same way.
And therein lies the beauty of creative power. With music, we humans get to create something that did not exist before we created it and probably will not exist in the same form ever again. In this way, we get to participate in the creative power of God. It’s because of this that I feel music (and other forms of art) connect us to God in a unique way.
We understand God as creator. One of God’s most potent attributes is God’s ability to create out of nothing. Much of creation will never be duplicated in the same way. It’s always changing; always adapting. It’s how God created it to be.
When we participate in art; in music, we connect to the Creator God in a deep and meaningful way. We display God’s creative power for all who hear or see our art. We mirror the image of God in the tunes we hum, in the words we craft, in the art we create.
This was even more real to me at the India Arie concert last week. At one point, she prompted her vocalists to vamp on the concept of how they knew God to be real (based on her song “God is Real” from Voyage to India). She encouraged them to be free in their expression. What happened was so powerful; so spiritual that I couldn’t keep my eyes open, and my breath escaped me. The raw emotionality of their responses are hard to describe and impossible to duplicate. It was pure creative power.
And I’m convinced God was pleased.
I love music. That is not a secret to anyone who knows me. But lately, music – ALL music – has helped me love God more.
I’ve read a few things and talked to a few people over the last few weeks about that wonderful topic of Theodicy – i.e. how is God justified in allowing so much evil in the world. It is just a monster of a topic, and honestly, I shy away from it. How can God allow so much evil to thrive in this world? It’s not easy to answer.
I’ve heard differently approaches to the topic from the Christian perspective, and they are generally OK… but not totally satisfying. I would say the most compelling argument is that in order for humans to have free will, there must be the possibility of both great good and great evil. If the possibility of evil is taken away, then free will becomes hollow.
I guess that works for me at least to distract me from having to think about the topic too much. It’s kind of like a band-aid over a gaping, disgusting wound.
A thought occurred to me the other day as I was watching Blood Diamond. In the movie, Daniel Archer says, “Sometimes I wonder if God will ever forgive us for the things we’ve done to each other…” What an interesting twist in the theodicy discussion. So often in this discussion, we’re asking if we can forgive God for allowing evil in the world. We are really trying to justify why it seems like God is asleep at the wheel; trying to maintain the doctrine of sovereignty in the face of what seems like an out of control world.
But what if we turn the discussion around and ask if God will ever forgive us for being so evil. You don’t have to look far to see human beings doing horrible things to other human beings for nothing more than a little money and power. What a shame! And we have the nerve to ask God why there’s evil in the world? Shouldn’t God be asking us how we can stand being so evil?
Thankfully, my worldview leads me to believe that God can and has forgiven us for being so evil. But is a proper response to that forgiveness to turn around and demand an answer from God for why we are so evil in the first place?
In no way does this wrap up the discussion with a nice little bow. It’s still a painful and tragic topic. But maybe we can balance the rhetoric by asking ourselves how God feels about there being evil in the world, and how so much of that evil is created with our own hands.
I’m going to rant for a minute, so bear with me. There’s a lot of talk these days (and in years past too) about how formal biblical education has the tendency of decreasing one’s spirituality. In other words, the academic focus and the attention to cognitive processes when approaching the scripture and theology are in direct opposition to how one is “supposed” to read the Bible: with the heart, soul, or even spirit.
In fact, so many who have gone through seminary or any other biblical education seem to make similar statements: that Bible school makes them less spiritual.
A lot of this, as I mentioned above, has to do with the approach to scripture and theology of the seminarian; an approach that is analytical and cerebral. It’s implied that by reading the Bible this way, one cannot have a spiritual experience. In order to have a spiritual experience of some sort, one has to return to reading the Bible as he or she did before he or she started biblical education.
I have a serious issue with this for several reasons. First, I have had so many deeply spiritual experiences while analyzing text. I have learned some deep truths about myself, the way God works in the world, the nature of humanity, etc. These have all produced some significant changes in my life along with some times of incredible spiritual connection to God.
Which brings me to my second problem with this statement about seminary: It’s dualistic (and, in my opinion, dangerous). This is something I’m only beginning to ponder, but I think there’s something in it. The dualism is that there is mind and there is spirit, and the two work independently. So when we analyze text, we are engaging our mind and not necessarily our spirit or soul. The same is true in reverse. When we are reading the text for some spiritual meaning, we aren’t using our cognitive abilities. In fact, some would urge the reader to put aside his or her “intellect” (or maybe analytical skills) in order to approach the text in a spiritual way.
Now the answer to this dualism has been something to this effect: “The key is to engage both your intellect and your spirit and to hold them both in a healthy tension.” Sounds good, but to me, it’s still dualistic. Sure, the goal to have both intellect and spirit be equal is good, but this still maintains they idea that they are separate.
I want to move toward a more holistic view of the human being; like what we see in the OT. In the Jewish mind, there is no outside and inside of the body; no spirit and flesh; no body and soul. We are whole beings.
And in reality, can we really separate our “intellect” from our “spirit?” Are we really able to function fully in one without engaging the other? Or, stated more directly, aren’t they really the same thing? Where is my spirit? Point to it. Is it in a different location than my intellect?
All of this is really premature. I’ve only begun to mull it over. But I know for sure I get exceedingly frustrated when I hear of seminarians who claim an academic reading of scripture strips them of their spirituality. I also know for sure that I want to understand this human life we have in a more holistic way. Am I flesh? Am I spirit? Am I soul? Or am I human?
