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Jack Spong – A Teacher Whose Words Offer Life
Even before our children were born, my wife, Rïse, and I, like many a parent, sang and read to our children. Later, nestled between us in bed and then resting upon our laps, they listened intently as we read about rabbits, moons, gardens, fingers, toes and smiles. Bit by bit, these little beings began to imitate us, holding the book precariously in tiny hands; looking first at the pages and next at the words as if reading, and eventually, eagerly, albeit clumsily, turning the book’s leaf. And then one day it happened, as if by magic – they themselves were reading. They had taught themselves to learn how to read. Such pride in their newly discovered competence. And the truly magic sojourn into the land of truth had begun in earnest. They were experiencing the exhilarating freedom of moving beyond the two-dimensional landscape of imitation into the endless world of exploration, made possible by following the Spirit’s invitation to learn how to learn. Imitation is a fine and necessary beginning, but as an ending it is claustrophobic, and stultifying as death.
One of my deepest appreciations about Jack Spong is that he is anything but an imitator. Even more, it has been his vocation to invite not only Christians, but those whose hearts and minds and bodies are captivated by the human journey, to listen and respond to the deepest stirrings of the Spirit. We are to become creatures, little less than gods, who explore, probe, and inquire so as to understand more deeply, more truly, who and what we are about as human beings – beings for whom trust in the Ground of Being actually matters as a matter of life.
I have always admired Jack’s ability to draw upon the best scholarship the academy has to offer and to teach this material with concise clarity, challenging our penchant to become pale imitations of a rich past we often do not even understand. Jack is constantly teaching because he is continually learning. We need to appreciate that curiosity is a divine virtue.
What Jack does so effectively is dissemble the dominant preconceptions of Christian teaching – be they a virgin birth, a three-tiered universe, a “God” who is a being existing out there some where, a crude understanding of incarnation and trinity, a belief in a satanic figure, an adherence to destructive atonement Christology, a belief in literal resurrection, or a literally conceived spatial place such as a heaven or a hell. Because of his love for truth he deconstructs those misleading literal truths contained in doctrine, hymnody, preaching and prayer. He reminds us that it is not enough – indeed there is no longer credibility to be found here – to repeat creedal formulas and adhere to them because they have been reiterated through the centuries. Historical precedent and practice should never be confused with truth.
Even more, all too often we do not even know our own history or the complex human origin of our central texts. Jack’s writing has excelled in plunging the reader into often groundbreaking and liberating encounters with the scriptures. The point is not for the reader to agree or disagree with Jack. The point is not for the reader to capitulate to Jack’s argument. The point is not for the reader to imitate Jack. No, the point is to invite the reader to become, like Jack, someone whose heart is on fire to discover what is true. The point is to become someone who, like Jack, loves to learn how to learn. The point is to become a curious and courageous disciple of study and inquiry. But more, to become someone who is willing to share the fruits of their journey with the wider world. Because for so long such teaching as that embodied in the life and writing of Jack Spong, and completely familiar to theological faculties, has been all too absent within the congregation; feared as unsettling and too probative.
Jack’s courage lies in his willingness to speak. He does not allow the word about the Word to remain silent. Herein is the power, the prophetic substance, of Jack. Oddly, often times what is new in Jack’s writing is not what he has to say, but that he has the heart to say it, say it well, say it clearly, and say it repeatedly. And he has suffered abuse because of his faithful heart.
The gathered bishops of the Episcopal church not only failed to stand by him as a teacher and leader, but effectively dissociated themselves from him. My own community, St. Paul’s of Marquette, Michigan, is one of a handful of Episcopal congregations even willing to welcome Jack into our midst to teach. This past autumn, as Jack returned to northern Michigan and was preparing to offer two lectures in our church and at Northern Michigan University, is when he suffered his stroke.
I am reminded of the trailblazing courage of another Christian theologian, Meister Eckhart. Eckhart suffered abuse from the bishops of the church because he had the temerity to teach the same word to the laity as well as the clergy. This German master was inspired by the realization that one of the great mistakes of Christian theology and spirituality is the conviction that God became present only long ago in Jesus of Nazareth. But it is this same divine Presence that is manifesting here and now, indeed in every present moment. Each and every creature; even more, each and every thing, is a magnificent word of God. The amazing gift of sentient beings such as ourselves is that we can become aware of this truth of who we are.
For too long, this vivifying, or as the tradition would say, quickening, spiritual truth has not simply lain dormant, but has deliberately been put to sleep. Jack’s attunement to the far reaching debilitating effect of this somnambulating Christianity, I believe, has drawn his heart and mind and body forth as a clarion call to awaken. Otherwise, Christianity must and surely will die – at least as an embodiment of the Christic wisdom path of Rabi Jesus.
It is no longer enough, nor has it ever been, for Christianity to remain a parody of itself. The truth about a caricature is that the substantive character of Mysterious Reality is lost. The result is that doctrine replaces direct experience; piety replaces dynamic faith; belief replaces inquiry. Harvey Cox, in The Future of Faith, captures the dilemma in words that resonate with Jack’s spirit:
The parody of Christianity that took shape in the fourth century was not only a radical subversion of the teaching of Jesus and the apostles, albeit carried out in their name. It also resulted in an equally radical subversion of the original meaning of the word “faith.” Students of the history of language know that changing contexts alter the meaning of words, and this is what happened to the word “faith.” Along with the “imperialization” of the church and the glorification of the bishops, now “faith” came to mean obeying the bishop and assenting to what he taught. Faith had been coarsened into belief, and this distortion has hobbled Christianity ever since. But the worst was yet to come. The skid from faith to belief, from trusting in God to assenting to propositions about God, was now under way, at least among the bishops.
There is such perfect irony in Jack being a bishop. For he seeks neither assent nor a coarsening of experiential faith into doctrinal belief. He invites personal and communal exploration. He invites us into an encounter with the living Ground of our Being. He asks that we never forget to learn how to learn.
That marvelous Sufi mystic, poet, and yes, theologian, Rumi, warns us that “theologians mumble rumble-dumble.” There is no theological mumble or dumble in Jack’s speech. Although, I must admit, he does at times rumble with his magnetic southern drawl, like a storm cloud portending a refreshing spring downpour. Jack’s words offer life because they invite us to learn to know truth as living Mystery and to experience reality as loving Being.
~ Kevin G. Thew Forrester, Ph.D.
Read the essay online here.
About the Author
Kevin G. Thew Forrester is an Episcopal priest, a student of the Diamond Approach for over a decade, as well as a certified teacher of the Enneagram in the Narrative Tradition. He is the founder of the Healing Arts Center of St. Paul’s Church in Marquette, Michigan, and the author of five books, including “I Have Called You Friends“, “Holding Beauty in My Soul’s Arms“, and “My Heart is a Raging Volcano of Love for You” and “Beyond my Wants, Beyond my Fears: The Soul’s Journey into the Heartland“.
Question & Answer
Todd from Atlanta, GA writes:
Question:
Do you believe in Christ’s Resurrection? If not, what distinguishes you as a Christian vs. something else?
Answer:
Dear Todd,
I don’t believe in the literal resurrection of Christ. I do believe—and I’m showing some influence from Buddhism here, which forewarns you already that I can’t in any way be a purist in my definition of “Christian”—that a person’s physical touch and presence extends beyond the body. Since even the air is not merely “nothing” but rather is composed of atoms that mingle with the atoms of my skin in touch, it is easy to imagine how one could really be said to “touch” a distant person or place. Close your eyes and appreciate that we exist as an ocean of molecules all nestled together. No wonder both violence and healing reach so far. How much the more so when we have instruments like the human memory, voices, art, and texts to aid in extending our reach?
Jesus is one of those rare human beings whose reach extends very far in this sense. For all that the Christian tradition may be indicted for diluting or distracting from the teachings of its founder, even so I believe his teachings and on some deep level his presence are still with us, such as in his parables and sayings and in the itinerant spirit of many aspects of the Christian movement. To the extent that a person welcomes that reach and presence, and is guided by it, that person can be called a Christian. This, as I understand it, never has to extend beyond a secular understanding of Jesus.
This definition, however, can never be “pure” in the sense of creating walls and borders. It is not a sturdy foundation for an ethics of us versus them. If by “Christian” we are trying to mean “good,” that’s a losing battle. I’m only willing to see it as a descriptive term, not a moral one.
~ Cassandra Farrin
Read and Share Online Here
About the Author
Cassandra Farrin is the Editor of Polebridge Press and Marketing Director of the Westar Institute, for which she hosts the Ethics and Early Christianity blog. A US-UK Fulbright Scholar, she has an M.A. in Religious Studies from Lancaster University (England) and a B.A. in Religious Studies from Willamette University. Her poetic retelling of the Nag Hammadi text "On the Origin of the World" is forthcoming in Gender Violence, Rape Culture, and Religion (Palgrave MacMillan).
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