| | | | View this email in your browser | | | | | | | | | | | | | | Otherdoxy: A Questionable Faith | | | | | | | | | | Essay by Rev. Jim Burklo April 1, 2021 Trust the science." It's a phrase on many lips these days, as the United States recovers from a presidency notorious for basing public policy and pandemic strategy on lies and hearsay. It is a huge relief to have national leadership that takes science seriously again. The health of Americans, of humanity as a whole, and of the planet depends on it. The problem with the phrase is that science is not about trusting science. On the contrary. Science is the disciplined distrust of science. Theories arise to explain phenomena, based on evidence. Scientists question the theories and the evidence, perhaps posing alternative theories. Over time, in this process of organized skepticism, a scientific consensus often emerges - a theory that works, at least for the time being - providing a scaffold for further scientific inquiry and progress. That progress may result in new evidence and insights that could undermine the consensus and lead to a new theory that accounts for a broader base of evidence, around which a new consensus can form. In contrast to this process, disorganized skepticism of science is a mounting threat. Anti-vaxxers cling to disconnected shreds of evidence and discredited theories that confirm their convictions. The same applies to climate-change deniers. And to 6-day-creationists and "intelligent design" advocates. These are literally unhealthy forms of skepticism. The healthy version is called science. There are many questions that mainstream science can't answer, at least at the moment. Ethical and moral questions, such as: who should get the Covid vaccine first? And how can such a prioritization be made understandable and acceptable to the public? Science provides data upon which such judgments can be made, but ultimately we can't trust science itself to sort them out. The scientific consensus is overwhelming that humans are causing catastrophic climate change with CO2 and other greenhouse gas emissions. But scientists can't tell us exactly what to do about this reality. Ethical and political calculations must be made that will rely on information from scientists, but are beyond their purview to decide. In this fuzzier realm of ethics and values and public decision-making, skepticism has its place as well. In politics, questioning authority should not just be allowed, but required. Democracy at its best is disciplined, organized skepticism. Does this policy really distribute resources effectively and ethically? Or is another one better? Transparency is essential in government, in order to facilitate this kind of questioning. And disciplined skepticism is necessary in religion, too. Not only to keep churches and their leaders honest, but to refine and deepen faith itself, re-interpreting or releasing doctrines if they no longer rise to the standard of Jesus' simple law of love. Progressive Christianity is a form of the faith that never stops asking questions about the Christian tradition: healthy skepticism is integral to our faith. To claim to be orthodox is to assert that you hold the correct doctrine of the faith. The Greek root words are “ortho,” which can be translated as “straight,” and “doxa,” which can be translated as “opinion.” By the time of the early Christian church, the word “doxa” had developed the connotation of “glory.” An opinion of high regard. But to follow Jesus is to hold him in much higher regard than orthodoxy can express. And in any case, the faith has had many different orthodoxies. Jesus said that his Father’s house had many mansions, many rooms. Lots of room for creative spiritual expression and practice. The Christian house is not defined by an outer edifice of fixed, hard doctrine. Rather, it is defined by its inner dining room, where the bread and wine of spiritual communion with the Christ is offered to all. The Love that is God, as revealed by the words and deeds of Jesus - a man who lived for others - leads to what we might call otherdoxy. Otherdoxy was the way of this unorthodox rabbi. The Pharisees tried to stone Jesus to death for heresy. They colluded and conspired with the Romans to kill him for expressing Judaism in a manner contrary to the dominant paradigm, by declaring love to be the supreme law. So it is orthodoxymoronic for any Christian to claim to practice the once-and-for-all correct version of the faith. Christian otherdoxy makes room for my voice and yours. In loving fellowship, we follow the historic traditions of the Christian faith, questioning, interpreting, and practicing them in light of social and scientific progress: We worship God, who is Love. We follow Jesus’ way of radical compassion. We find grace in intellectual engagement with our faith. We believe there is more value in questioning than in absolute answers. The Bible gives us a beautiful language to express our spiritual experience: we find inspiration in its myths and its poetry. We affirm that other religions can be as good for others as ours is good for us: we are eager to learn from other faiths. We are called to preserve our earth as a heavenly place of peace, justice, kindness, inclusion, and beauty. Ours is the humble faith of a humble man. If common sense, science, and compassion conflict with our beliefs, our faith calls us to change the ways we interpret and practice our religion. If another tradition has something to teach us that could be useful for our walk with Jesus, we are led to be humble enough to take it seriously. Divine love is the Ultimate Reality. Our religion is not. God is "agape" - unconditional love. And unconditional love is open, opinion-free attention. And open, opinion-free attention leads to questions. Kind but unabashed and unfettered questions. When we love others with such questions, we move deeper and deeper into the truth of each other's hearts. This kind of love leads to transparency: "For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we shall see face to face..." (Paul, 1 Cor 13:12) All is revealed: our crowning glories, our failings, our frustrations, our hopes, our emotions -- our highest yearnings, our greatest regrets. Like science, love is an endless process that leaves no stone unturned, no assumption unquestioned. Love is a disciplined, compassionate, gentle form of skepticism that always wants to see and know more. Love may reveal painful things, but it also assuages that pain. Love leads us to spiritual, personal, and social progress. May healthy questioning flourish in the realms of science and spirituality alike - in the service of otherdoxy. ~ Rev. Jim Burklo Read online here About the Author Rev. Jim Burklo is the Senior Associate Dean of Religious and Spiritual Life at the University of Southern California. An ordained pastor in the United Church of Christ, he is the author of six published books on progressive Christianity, with a new one coming out soon: TENDERLY CALLING: An Invitation to the Way of Jesus (St Johann Press, 2021). His weekly blog, “Musings”, has a global readership. He serves on the board of ProgressiveChristiansUniting.org and is an honorary advisor and frequent content contributor for ProgressiveChristianity.org. | | | | | | | | Question & Answer Q: By Supong If there are many ways to the truth (salvation), can we preach that Krishna (or any other God) as one of the ways to attain salvation? Or, can we proclaim “In the name of Krishna your sins can be forgiven”? A: By Rev. Lauren Van Ham Dear Supong, The answer is YES, at least according to my theology which values an interfaith perspective. I particularly love that you have asked about Krishna since he and Jesus are often seen as similar, complements, or possibly even the same, archetypally. God -- who across cultures, languages, eras, and religions, is called by many names -- always inhabits or points to Truth, even in the ways that surpass our human understanding. When we think about salvation broadly, its Greek root, soter, means “healing.” Religious traditions and spiritual paths, when offered in a healthy and whole way, create practices for enlightenment (truth) and healing. As practitioners of any of these Traditions, we study and learn and do our best to apply our beliefs in everyday moments – the good ones, the difficult ones and the ones where we really mess up and try to address what we wish we would’ve-could’ve-should’ve done. Isn’t it a relief then, that in these moments we have somewhere to turn so that we are not alone, but rather in community with other believers and, ultimately, a Source of Life, who wraps us in compassion and wisdom so that we might discover deeper understanding, reconciliation or peace? In these ways the religious tradition or deity’s name is far less important than the practice itself. May all beings everywhere feel fully welcomed into practices of healing, reconciliation, forgiveness and love! ~ Rev. Lauren Van Ham Read and share online here About the Author Rev. Lauren Van Ham, MA was born and raised beneath the big sky of the Midwest, Lauren holds degrees from Carnegie Mellon University, Naropa University and The Chaplaincy Institute. Following her ordination in 1999, Lauren served as an interfaith chaplain in both healthcare (adolescent psychiatry and palliative care), and corporate settings (organizational development and employee wellness). Lauren’s passion for spirituality, art and Earth's teachings have supported her specialization in eco-ministry, grief & loss, and sacred activism. Her essay, "Way of the Eco-Chaplain," appears in the collection, Ways of the Spirit: Voices of Women; and her work with Green Sangha is featured in Renewal, a documentary celebrating the efforts of religious environmental activists from diverse faith traditions across America. Her ideas can be heard on Vennly, an app that shares perspectives from spiritual and community leaders across different backgrounds and traditions. Currently, Lauren tends her private spiritual direction and eco-chaplaincy consulting practice; and serves as Climate Action Coordinator for the United Religions Initiative (URI), and as guest faculty for several schools in the San Francisco Bay Area. | | | | | | | | Please continue to send us your feedback… we are listening. We aim to give voice to many different perspectives that are relevant and inspiring along this spiritually progressing path. We are not here to tell you what to believe or how to act. We are here to support your journey, to share and learn together.Thank you for being a part of this community - join us on Facebook! | | | | | | | | | | | | | | In New Orleans, there’s a unique tradition of parading for funerals. Anyone who comes along is welcome to follow behind the band in a “second line” of singing and dancing to celebrate the deceased person’s life. On Palm Sunday, at least when there’re no COVID restrictions, my congregation has begun observing a New Orleans-style second line parade that we call “Palms and Parasols.” We invite a local jazz band to lead our processional around our neighborhood, as we wave our palms and our parasols joyfully in the air. It’s a way of remembering that while the day is jubilant, the parade that we are joining is also a funeral march. In their book, The Last Week, Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan remind us that the decision of which way, which path, we are going to follow is at no point clearer on our Lenten journey than on Palm Sunday. Palm Sunday is the day when Jesus staged a planned protest against the principalities and the powers and asked his followers to choose between the path of the world that perpetuates the status quo or the way of Christ that embodies the Reign of God. Tomorrow, as we observe Palm Sunday, we should imagine Jesus asking us to join his parade, even though it leads to the cross. Marching in the Jesus parade challenges us to confront the crosses of poverty, racism, inequality, violence, environmental injustice, oppression of the LGBTQ+ community, a world that values money over all, and a country that has refused to fully welcome the stranger. Now the question becomes for us: which parade will we choose? A financial gift to ProgressiveChristianity.org is a way of choosing to join the Jesus parade. This Holy Week, please join us in marching in the parade that calls for reason, compassion, social justice, and prophetic witness. Thank you for your generosity. The Rev. Dr. Caleb J. Lines, Co-Executive Director ProgressiveChristianity.org Progressing Spirit Help keep ProgressiveChristianity.org/Progressing Spirit online and going strong - click here to donate today! * Another way to support us is to leave a bequest in your Will and/or Trust designating us a beneficiary. | | | | | | | | Bishop John Shelby Spong Revisited The Origins of the New Testament, Part XXXV: The Epilogue of John Essay by Bishop John Shelby Spong August 26, 2010 The last chapter of John’s gospel, known as the Epilogue, is not believed by most scholars to be part of the original text of this gospel. A careful reading of chapter 20 makes it clear that this was how the original evangelist chose to end his story. Listen to his closing words: “Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of the disciples that are not written in this book but these are written that you may believe, that Jesus is the Christ, and that believing you may have life in his name.” After that one expects no more. Yet chapter 21 has been added. It seems not to follow from or to fit in with anything said in chapter 20. The scene has shifted from Jerusalem to Galilee. A significant amount of time has elapsed. The disciples seem not motivated at all by the appearances of Jesus recorded in chapter 20. They have clearly passed the stage of mourning and have returned to their Galilean homes and picked up the pieces of their pre-Jesus lives. They have even gone back to the source of their livelihood as fishermen on the Sea of Galilee. One other aspect to chapter 21 of John is that it replicates fairly closely the details of a Lucan narrative (see Luke 5:1-16), which Luke asserts was a miracle story not of the risen Christ, but of the Galilean Jesus near the beginning of his public ministry. Despite these problems, I have always been attracted to this Epilogue and it has played a major role in my understanding of the Easter event. I close my columns on John’s gospel by describing how that connection came into being. Earlier in my career, I made an extensive study of all of the resurrection narratives in the New Testament. This study resulted in the publication of a book entitled Resurrection: Myth or Reality?. In that book, I tried to sort out the elements that seemed to culminate in the enormous power that was connected with the Easter moment. I asked four questions: Who was it who stood in the center of the resurrection experience? Where were the disciples when the experience of resurrection dawned? When was the moment in time in which the meaning of resurrection broke through in the lives of the disciples? What was the context, the setting, in which the Easter experience emerged? I then began to explore the clues present in the New Testament that might lead to new conclusions about this central experience in our faith story. As I worked through not only all of the specific resurrection texts, but also anything else that might throw light on the Easter experience, recognizing that every word in Paul and in each gospel was actually written as post-Easter narratives, I came to these conclusions. Peter is the crucial, central figure in the Easter story. Peter is singled out as the one who first saw. Paul says, “He appeared first to Cephas.” Mark, the first gospel to be written, has the messenger say, “Go tell the disciples and Peter.” Luke has the disciples claim, “The Lord has risen and has appeared to Peter.” John portrays Peter as the first one who entered the tomb and saw its emptiness, including the burial clothes neatly placed where his hands and feet would once presumably have been. In Matthew and in other parts of the gospel text, Peter is the one who makes the first confession at Caesarea Philippi. He is always listed first when the disciples are named. In John’s gospel, Jesus is quoted as saying to Peter, “When you are converted strengthen your brethren,” as if Peter would be the first one who would enable the others to see. The primacy of Peter in the entire gospel tradition seems to me to rest on the fact that Peter was the first one whose eyes were opened to see both the meaning of Jesus and his resurrection. Then I searched every Peter story in the gospels looking for resurrection clues. I believe that they are there, from the story of Peter after the feeding of the multitude in John, saying “Lord, to whom shall we go, you have the word of eternal life,” to Peter demanding to be washed all over when Jesus washes the feet of the disciples. All Peter stories I concluded ought to be read as resurrection stories for they show Peter’s coming to faith very clearly. So I filed my first conclusion. Peter stood at the center of the resurrection tradition. Secondly, I pursued the “where” question. The New Testament is divided between the competing claims for primacy in the resurrection tradition between Galilee and Jerusalem. Mark has the Easter messenger direct the disciples to return to Galilee with the promise that, “there you will see him.” Matthew says that it was only in Galilee that the raised Christ ever appeared to the disciples. Luke, however, counters this Galilean tradition by asserting that the appearance of the risen Christ occurred only in Jerusalem and its environs, thus overtly refuting the Galilean tradition. John supports Luke by insisting on the primacy of Jerusalem, but then to the end of John’s gospel was attached the Epilogue that centers the resurrection squarely in Galilee. A deeper analysis of these competing texts, however, reveals that the Galilee tradition was not only earlier, but it was the more primitive and the more original. It is noteworthy that all the Jesus sightings, the visions, the aspects of his bodily physicality, the feeling of his flesh and the touching of his wounds are associated with the later and clearly secondary Jerusalem tradition. So Galilee emerged from this study as the answer to the question about where the disciples were when the resurrection experience dawned. Building on that conclusion, I then looked at other stories that might also contain Easter references, from the disciples mistaking him for a ghost coming to them out of the darkness, to Jesus walking on the water, to the account of the transfiguration, which portrays him as translucent. I noted that all of these were set in Galilee. I came next to the “when” question and confronted the familiar time symbol “three days.” A study of the New Testament reveals that this symbol is wobbly at best. Paul and Mark say “On the third day.” Matthew and Luke change that time designation to “after three days,” a variation that sounds similar, but clearly is not, for “on” and “after” do not result in the same day. According to a literal reading of the gospels, the time from burial on Good Friday to the empty tomb at dawn on Sunday morning is only 36 hours, or a day and a half. Mark, however, has the messenger say only that they will see him in Galilee, but Galilee is a seven- to ten-day journey from Jerusalem, so this “seeing” could not possibly occur inside the literal “three day” symbol, whether it is “on” or “after.” Luke stretches the appearance stories to forty days, culminating with the first account of the ascension. John has resurrection appearance stories occur in Jerusalem over a period of eight days, but then in the Johannine Epilogue the resurrection appearances seem to cover a period of months. These were the data that drove me to conclude that the phrase “three days” is not only a symbol, but one that was never intended to be a literal measure of time. That insight opened me to the possibility that the time between the crucifixion and the Easter experience needs to be expanded at least to months. My third conclusion thus became that I needed to destabilize and de-literalize the symbolic time marker of three days and to extend the time between crucifixion and resurrection significantly. Finally, when I searched for the context in which resurrection dawned, I found the key phrase in Luke, “He was known to us in the breaking of bread.” That valuable clue led me to look at all the feeding stories in the gospels for resurrection clues. So I examined the stories about the feeding of the multitude with a limited number of loaves and fishes, I examined the various accounts of the Last Supper, and I even looked at the parables of Jesus that focused on a great banquet. In each of these places I found elements of the interpretive meal in which the risen Jesus made himself known and present. My study drove me to these conclusions: First, whatever Easter was, Peter stood at the center of it and was the first to “see” and was thus the one who opened the eyes of the others so that they could also see. Secondly, Galilee was the original setting in which the meaning of Easter dawned, while the Jerusalem tradition was secondary. That is why the Jerusalem stories feature a supernaturalized Jesus and insist on the resurrection being understood as a resuscitated Jesus. Third, I concluded that the moment of Easter dawned slowly and over a period of months after the crucifixion. Finally, I became convinced that the common meal of the church was designed to be a liturgical reenactment of what the original resurrection experience was, so that liturgical meal must have played a role in the beginning. With these conclusions in hand, I returned to the gospels in search of a resurrection narrative that was based on these four principles. I found it only in the Epilogue to the Fourth Gospel, which I now regard as the most authentic, and maybe even the earliest, of the resurrection narratives in the New Testament. It is about Peter fighting his way through to a new understanding. It is set in Galilee. It clearly occurs some time after the crucifixion. It concludes by suggesting that it was during a beachside, early morning Eucharist that the experience of their living Lord broke through first to Peter, then to the twelve. The Epilogue of John thus grew in significance for me. Further study opened me to the possibility that this narrative might well have been an earlier tradition that floated freely during the oral period and found two very different resting places, first in Luke and then in the Epilogue of John. My supposition is that someone, perhaps a member of the Johannine School, recognized its authenticity and decided to attach it to the Fourth Gospel. That decision preserved, I believe, the earliest and most authentic memory of the dawning of Easter and, at the same time, true to the Johannine principle, it was clear that this experience could never be literalized, for it was not bound inside either time or space. It is fitting that with this story the Fourth Gospel is drawn to its second conclusion and that is why John says that “to know Jesus is eternal life.” ~ John Shelby Spong | | | | | | | | Announcements Poetry for Inspiration and Wellbeing Taught by one of the longest-serving poetry editors of a major national literary journal in American history, this online course includes mini-lectures, videos, polls, Q&A, and written exercises and reflections, as well as peer review.Starting April 5th - May 1st: $30. 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