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08 Feb '18
HOMEPAGE MY PROFILE ESSAY ARCHIVE MESSAGE BOARDS CALENDAR
“God” Isn't in the Bible
Rev. Mark Sandlin
Language is more important than many of us realize. More precisely, the specific words we choose to use impact our way of thinking, our social behavior, and many other perspectives of our lives. It’s actually a fairly recent development in the human brain in terms of our long history as a species. The frontal lobes of our brains have actually expanded to handle its expanded work requirements.
Now, there are certainly folks who do understand and acknowledge the importance and impact of language. For example, at the progressive church where I minister, we have an exceptionally hard time picking out hymns for our Sunday service. I particularly struggle when it comes to the naming of God.
Far too many hymns use masculine or aggressive terms for God like Father, King, Lord, Shield, Defender, etc. It’s not just the controlling or combative image of God that concerns me, but also the way it prevents many people from seeing God in themselves. As my kids were growing up, the last thing I would have ever wanted would be for my daughter to get the message that God was more like her brother than her.
All of this is to say I think a lot about language and scientific evidence only reinforces with me that it is an exceptionally important task.
Recently, I’ve started having issues with a word that, well, I never expected to have problems with: God.
The roots of my problem probably started awhile back when I came across a disheveled looking street preacher who was holding a Bible high above his head and shouting out, “God will save you from the fiery pits of Hell.” At some point, he looked right at me and said, “Son, have you given your life over to God?” I answered him saying, “I think the God that you know and the God that I know aren’t the same God.” I pretty much regretted responding that way from the moment I said it, but the fact is, I said it.
As I’ve mentioned, I minister at a progressive church. During each of our services there is a time for the congregation to respond to the talk I give. Over time, it’s been very interesting to listen to how various individuals name/describe God. The truth is, if they use the name at all, very few only say, “God.” It’s much more likely that they say, “God,” then with a sort of apologetic look on their face for saying, “God,” they’ll add, “the Universe, the spirit/thing that’s larger than us,” or something like that.
Many of us have a theological issue with what the word “God” has come to represent. Conservative Christianity has always been the dominant social expression of Christianity in the U.S. Particularly, since our last presidential election, it’s become harder and harder to recognize the God that group worships as being anything close to biblical, particularly when it comes to the teachings of Jesus. So, it really isn’t all that surprising that progressive Christians have start having issues with the word “God.”
It turns out, that while it is perfectly understandable that we are having issues with the term “God” because of how conservative Christians are using it, we should actually have a bigger problem with the word for an entirely different reason: it isn’t in the Bible.
Yep. “God” is not mentioned in the Bible.
“The hell it’s not,” you say?
While it is true that even the earliest English translations of the Bible refer to the Hebrew/Christian deity as “God,” it’s not only a poor, but rather incorrect translation of the original Hebrew and Greek words used to refer to the deity. Worse yet, at least in my opinion, we’ve opted to use it as a proper name for God which is something the Bible never does.
In general, the Bible simply uses descriptors for God, particularly in the Old Testiment. Elohay Kedem – the god of the beginning (Deuteronomy 33:27). Elohay Mishpat – the god of justice (Isaiah 30:18). Elohay Marom – the god of heights (Micah 6:6). Elohay Mikarov – the god who is near (Jeremiah 23:23). Elohay Mauzi – the god of my strength (Psalm 43:2). Elohay Tehilati – the god of my praise (Psalm 109:1). Elohim Chaiyim – the living god (Jeremiah 10:10). Elohay Elohim – the god of gods: (Deuteronomy 10:17).
You might notice the recurrence of Elohay/Elohim. They are the singular and plural forms of the Hebrew word for “deity.” Sometimes they are shortened to simply “El.” As in: El Yisrael – the god of Israel (Psalm 68:35). El HaShamayim – the god of the heavens (Psalm 136:26). El De’ot – the god of knowledge (1 Samuel 2:3). El Elyon – the most high god (Genesis 14:18). Immanu El – god is with us (Isaiah 7:14).
By capitalizing “God,” modern English translations give the impression that the uses of El/Elohim are proper names rather than descriptors pointing to a deity. Not only that, it’s a translation whose roots stray from the intended understanding of Elohim. The Hebrew here indicates “might, strength, most excellent, greatest, unequaled.” However, Webster’s New Collegiate Dictionary tells us that the word “god” comes from a Germanic word that means “the invoked one.”
So, not only do most modern English interpretations suggest that “God” is the proper name for the Hebrew/Christian deity, the use of the word “god” betrays the original implications of the Hebrew description of the deity. As I said, we should have bigger issues with the word “God” than just how conservatives are using it.
In terms of the New Testament, most of the times we see the word “God,” it is replacing the Greek word, “theós,” which is simply the Greek word for deity. Interestingly enough, it is typically preceded by a form of the Greek definite article ho. Yet again seeming to indicate that it is not meant to be the name of the deity.
Admittedly, this is a relatively recent exploration from me. In most ways, I find it very freeing to recognize that “God” is not in the Bible. It feels much less confining and seems to give “God” a breadth of understanding that is much needed. I’m not saying others shouldn’t use the term “God” in referring to the Christian deity, I’m simply saying that it is not so easy to define and box “God” in when we don’t.
If anything, it should give us permission to play with descriptions of the god of the Universe, to vary how we describe the god of compassion in conversations, to not be so hemmed-in in naming the god who is and ever will be.
For me, it’s not just freeing, it pushes me to consider my understanding of the god who ties us together, in deeper more meaningful terms and that is an incredibly exciting journey to be on.
~ Rev. Mark Sandlin
Read the essay online here.
About the Author
Mark Sandlin is an ordained minister in the Presbyterian Church (USA) from the South. He currently serves at Presbyterian Church of the Covenant. He is a co-founder of The Christian Left. His blog, has been named as one of the “Top Ten Christian Blogs.” Mark received The Associated Church Press’ Award of Excellence in 2012. His work has been published on “The Huffington Post,” “Sojourners,” “Time,” “Church World Services,” and even the “Richard Dawkins Foundation.” He’s been featured on PBS’s “Religion & Ethics NewsWeekly” and NPR’s “The Story with Dick Gordon.” Follow Mark on Facebook and Twitter @marksandlind
Question & Answer
Scottie from Seattle, asks:
Question:
Is God a person?
Answer: Lauren Van Ham
Dear Scottie,
In my theology, “Yes, and…”
The universe began its intricate, gigantic, and truly awesome expansion 13.7 billion years ago. Humans arrived on the scene a mere 5 million years ago. Therefore, God is and has been many things, including humanity. Everything that exists now, or has existed in this span of time, originated within that first spark of Divinity. Each being I encounter is a manifestation of God – my neighbor across the street, the rows of earth teeming with vegetables, the flight attendant, the feral cats living near the bike path, the sea lions sunning themselves outside the aquarium, and on and on. All life forms hold particular intelligences and dimensions. Humans carry will and the ability to reason. Spiritual disciplines help us to both appreciate our abilities, as well as to take responsibility for the power and privilege they grant.
To reduce God to only being a person seems woefully short-sighted. God is life, and life perpetually pulsates around us, whether or not we sit in witness to each inhale and exhale. And then, God is in the negative spaces, too: the night sky following sunset, the patches of canvas that haven’t received paint, and the nano-second of “no-thingness” before one cell descends, becoming a root, and the other ascends, becoming a shoot. Perhaps, before anything else, God is possibility. Within possibility there can be creativity and there can be destruction. As carriers of God, we have been given the humbling task of discernment; of moving through the world not simply as entitled takers, but as deep listeners, responding wisely and with love to the needs and shifts of life’s unfolding.
So, yes, God is a person, manifesting as possibility in every human everywhere, and God is so, so much more.
~ Lauren Van Ham
Read and Share Online Here
About the Author
Lauren Van Ham 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). Her passion and training in the fine arts, spirituality and Earth’s teachings has supported her specialization in eco-ministry, grief and loss, and sacred activism. Lauren’s work with Green Sangha (a Bay Area-based non-profit) is featured in Renewal, a documentary celebrating the efforts of environmental activism taking place in religious America. Her essay, “Way of the Eco-Chaplain” appears in the collection, Ways of the Spirit: Voices of Women. Lauren tends a private spiritual direction practice and serves as Dean for The Chaplaincy Institute in Berkeley, CA.
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Bishop John Shelby Spong Revisited
The Connection between the Crucifixion and
the Passover, Part III
The Influence of The Jewish Festival of Sukkoth
on the Passion Narrative
Western Christians find it hard to understand that the gospel writers were not writing objective history. Yet nothing we know about the formation of the New Testament supports that conclusion. Jesus lived between 4 BCE and 30 CE. He spoke and taught in Aramaic. The gospels came 40 to 70 years after his death and they were written in Greek. This means that almost everything that we know about Jesus lived in oral transmission and underwent one translation before we get to the earliest documents that we possess. During that time his followers had continued to worship in the synagogues of their ancestral Jewish faith before the movement that he had begun separated itself from Judaism in 88 CE and came to be called Christianity. They were originally called "The Followers of the Way."
Realizing these facts, our claim to possess objective history in the gospels begins to wobble. Next, we have become aware that after the writing of Mark's gospel in the early 70's, the written record of Jesus expanded about every decade with Matthew writing in the early 80s, Luke in the late 80s or early 90s and John in the late 90s. By reading these accounts in the order in which they are written, we can actually watch the story grow and the miraculous heightened.
The obvious question that these data raise is one that has been generally ignored by Christian interpreters. So let me pose it in several forms. Where did the sayings of Jesus, the parables of Jesus and the stories about Jesus reside in that oral period between the end of his life and the first writing of the gospels? In what context was the oral tradition maintained? In what ways did that context shape, change and transform the message? The reason these questions are seldom raised is directly related to the residual effect of the idolatrous worship of the Bible that we call bibliolatry. Bibliolatry gripped the early church and still resides in traditional parts of Christianity today. The gospels have for far too long been treated as if they are history and therefore are presumed to be accounts of what Jesus actually said and did. They have been invested with the literal claim that they are the dictated words of God. When people begin with that definition of the Bible, they are not disposed to study the origins of their sacred story. It is easier to make excessive claims for its inerrancy and to seek to maintain the now thoroughly discredited fiction that the Bible was received by divine revelation. Incredible though it may seem, after some 200 years of critical biblical scholarship, its impact, for the most part, still has not escaped the hallowed halls of academia. The insights gleaned from that study, and their impact on how the Bible can be competently and accurately read, are still largely ignored in both Catholic and Protestant circles. It is actually worse than that. Scholarly study of the scriptures is still being attacked in these circles as "godless heresy."
A preliminary study of the gospels will, however, reveal the obvious fact that the story of Jesus was repeated primarily in the synagogues during the years after the death of Jesus and before the gospels were written. The clue here is discovered in the wide use of Old Testament references that are both overt and covert in the gospel narrative. Paul wrote that Jesus died and was raised "in accordance with the scriptures." When Paul wrote the only scriptures he knew were the Hebrew Scriptures. In the gospels the prophets are quoted to show how Jesus fulfilled them. Micah is quoted to undergird the Bethlehem birth story. Isaiah is quoted to develop the story of the Wise Men. Isaiah had written that kings would come to the brightness of God's rising. They would come on camels, they would come from Sheba and they would bring gold and frankincense. In a book called the Wisdom of Solomon, Israel's most opulent king is quoted as having said, "When I was born I was carefully swaddled for that is the only way a king can come to his people." This line clearly shaped Luke's birth story of how the infant Jesus was wrapped in 'swaddling clothes.' We could illustrate this connection between the Hebrew Scriptures and the Jesus story quite literally thousands of times. What we need to realize is that the only place the people heard the Jewish Scriptures read was in the synagogues. In those days, books were on scrolls, handwritten and very expensive. People did not own copies of the Hebrew Bible to read at their leisure. The Gideon Society did not place them in local hotels. If the Jesus story was interpreted by and understood through references to the Hebrew Bible, the only place that could have happened was in the synagogue where the reading of the Law and the Prophets and expounding on their meaning constituted the major part of their liturgy.
In this series of columns on the relationship between the Passover and the telling of the story of the crucifixion, I have suggested that even the sacred accounts, which propose to describe the final events in Jesus' life, are not the recordings of historical memory. Rather they are the later developed, synagogue-inspired liturgical interpretation of what his disciples had come to believe, that in and through the life of Jesus, they had experienced the eternal God. In the first of this series, I pointed out hints in the text itself that suggest that the original dating of the crucifixion narrative appears to have been changed. Passover came in mid to late March. There were no leafy branches that could have been waved in a Palm Sunday procession at that time in Palestine, even though the literal text suggests that Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem came just before the crucifixion. There was no fig tree whose failure to produce figs in late March could have elicited the killing curse from Jesus that both Mark and Matthew describe. The connection between Passover and crucifixion seems to be rather forced in the gospels.
Then we looked at the earliest version of the Passion of Christ narrative found in Mark (14:17-15:47) that appears to be a liturgical form based on the Passover but stretched into a twenty-four-hour vigil with the content of the story drawn not from eye witness memory but from Psalm 22 and Isaiah 53.
The next step in this consciousness raising enterprise is to look at whether the holy days of the Jewish liturgical year were also used to shape the story of Jesus. I now want to bring one of those holy days, about which Christians tend to know nothing, into our awareness.
In the fall of the year, the Jews celebrated an eight day Harvest Festival called Sukkoth (pronounced sue-coat), sometimes called the Feast of the Tabernacles or Booths which drew Jewish pilgrims from all over the known world to Jerusalem. Despite its enormous popularity Sukkoth is mentioned only once in the Bible in John 7 so most Christians have no idea of how this festival was observed. If they did they would recognize that the symbols of Sukkoth have been subsumed in the details of the Christian story of Palm Sunday. Listen to the similarities.
The worshipers at Sukkoth marched in procession round the Temple waving in their right hands something called a "lulab," which was a bundle of leafy branches bound together, made up of myrtle, willow and palm. As they marched they recited Psalm 118, the psalm of Sukkoth. Among the words of this psalm are these: "Save us," which is an English translation of the Jewish word, "Hosanna," and "Blessed is he who enters (comes) in the Name of the Lord." This psalm goes on to say, "Bind the festal procession with branches," and it contains other words later interpreted as referring to Jesus, "The stone which the builders rejected has become the head of the corner." There is little question that the Palm Sunday story was dependent on the details of this harvest festival holiday of the Jews. Since Sukkoth shares common content with Palm Sunday, we have another piece of evidence suggesting that crucifixion and Passover were linked together for interpretive not historical reasons.
There are other symbols of Sukkoth that seem to have entered the crucifixion/resurrection narrative of the early church. While worshipers carried a lulab to wave in their right hand in the Sukkoth procession, in their left hand they carried an "ethrog" (pronounced e-trog), a box of sweet-smelling spices, usually the blossom, leaves or fruit of the citron tree, once again possibilities only in the fall of the year. I wonder if the sweet smelling spices, that the women were said to have carried to the tomb of Jesus on Easter morning, are a reflection of this.
Also as part of this celebration, Jewish families were instructed to build a temporary booth outside their homes to remind them of the time their ancestors spent wandering in the wilderness after their escape from Egypt when they had no permanent home. This booth was to be a place in which they ate a ceremonial meal during the eight-day celebration. I cannot help but wonder whether this temporary and ceremonial dwelling place got transformed into a temporary tomb in Joseph's garden. I also wonder whether the shelter to which Cleopas and his friend turned aside to enter in Luke's Emmaus Road resurrection story, and in which they ate a ceremonial meal with the Risen Christ, was yet another echo in which the Sukkoth liturgy shaped the basic Christian story.
Once we begin to dig beneath the surface of the gospels we discover interpretive clues to which the literalism of the past has blinded us. This exercise may destabilize yesterday's literalism but it also open for us the real question that we ought to ask today: What was there about this Jesus that caused them to see him as the fulfillment of the law and the prophets; as the human life through which the holy God was experienced? How was it that they came to see his death as similar to the death of the paschal lamb of Passover and thus allowed the Passover to frame their telling of the Passion of Jesus?
To the issues raised by these questions I will turn next week as our journey towards Easter continues.
~ John Shelby Spong
Originally posted February 16, 2005
Announcements
2018 Progressive Theology Weekend
“Why the Way We Live is More Important than What We Believe-Conversations with Gretta Vosper”
“Why the Way We Live is More Important than What We Believe-Conversations with Gretta Vosper” is the theme for the 2018 Progressive Theology Weekend at The Good Shepherd United Church of Christ, 17750 S. La Canada, in Sahuarita, AZ. Gretta Vosper is coming to the Good Shepherd UCC February 16-17, 2018. She will share from her books: “With or Without God and Amen.”
Click here for more information/registration
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Enjoy catching up with what is happening in ICAs across the globe.....If you wish to SEND a report...send to your ICA contact person OR...go to the members section on the ICA International website
Please click the link below for the
latest issue of the Global Buzz
Global Buzz Report: February 2018
or copy and paste this URL into your browser's address bar
http://globalbuzz.icai-archives.org/7dayreport-18/2018-02-01.php
ICAI Communications
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0
Enjoy catching up with what is happening in ICAs across the globe.....If you wish to SEND a report...send to your ICA contact person OR...go to the members section on the ICA International website
Please click the link below for the
latest issue of the Global Buzz
Global Buzz Report: February 2018
or copy and paste this URL into your browser's address bar
http://globalbuzz.icai-archives.org/7dayreport-18/2018-02-01.php
ICAI Communications
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(Pittsburgh) Pennsylvania Interfaith Impact Network (PIIN) - Feb 8, Thursday 7-8pm
by englewoman@verizon.net 03 Feb '18
by englewoman@verizon.net 03 Feb '18
03 Feb '18
Friends near SW PA may be interested in this event by Pennsylvania Interfaith Impact Network (PIIN)
Thursday, February 8, 2018. Join PIIN for Charles Allen Lingo Jr: Lessons Learned from Dr. King
On Thursday, February 8, PIIN will suspend the standard protocol for our monthly Board of Directors meeting to hear from Al Lingo, a white Protestant minister who worked with Dr. Martin Luther King in St. Augustine, Florida and Selma, Alabama in the 1960s.
In 1964, Al Lingo was one of several civil rights advocates who jumped into a segregated pool filled with acid at the Monson Motor Lodge in downtown St. Augustine to protest the restaurant’s refusal to seat Dr. King. When the pool protest began, the lodge manager poured acid into the water to force demonstrators out. The images of the protest went viral, embarrassing the nation and culminating in President Lyndon B. Johnson demanding passage of the Civil Rights Act of 1964.
PIIN is honored to have Al Lingo in our company on February 8, and we hope you’ll join us to hear him share his treasure trove of experiences fighting for justice alongside Dr. King.
Al Lingo: Lessons Learned from Dr. King
Thursday, February 8, 2018
7:00pm-8:00pm
Pittsburgh Theological Seminary: 616 N. Highland Ave.
Knox Room (Main Floor of Seminary)
https://www.npr.org/2014/06/13/321380585/remembering-a-civil-rights-swim-in…
Posted by:
Elizabeth Engleman
englewoman(a)verizon.net
Baltimore, MD 21218
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01 Feb '18
HOMEPAGE MY PROFILE ESSAY ARCHIVE MESSAGE BOARDS CALENDAR
God is Always Needing to Be Born
Lauren Van Ham
January is over and 2018 is finding its voice. Each year extends possibility. Within the possibility, events take place – births, deaths, celebrations, mishaps – and history is made. Meister Eckhart, the 12th century mystic proclaimed,
.........We are all meant to be mothers of God…
..........for God is always needing to be born.
In December, just after the shortest day of the year, the church calendar welcomes the return of holy innocence. Jesus is born and 12 days later, on Epiphany, Christians celebrate his physical arrival, a much-awaited incarnation called forth by ages of invocation and prophecy. Christmas carols lift the refrain, “Christ was born to save!” And then, Eckhart comes along with, “God is always needing to be born.” As 2018 unfolds, this teaching is a prompt for us. What role will we play as mothers of God?
For the last decade, my holy work in this world has been called, Eco-chaplaincy. On this path, I have tried to create some guiding principles to help me and others who wish to embody a lifestyle which supports and celebrates life in all its forms, humans included! In this time on Earth, the task of being an informed human is unrelenting; societal panic and personal despair are abundant. Fortunately, the eco-teachings we receive in winter are hugely instructive about how we might ready ourselves for whatever lies ahead, and I want to highlight 3 of them now.
Here’s the first one: Slow down. The insistent urgency of our economy pulls us along, yanking us from the end of one year into the next with stories of scarcity and endless tactics to stimulate spending. If we follow the Christmas story as it is shared in the New Testament, we know that the baby was taken away to Egypt, away from the noise and violence of the Imperial system. Or if, like me, you feel less moved by the story, but truly curious by what around you feels real, then in this season (at least for much of the Northern hemisphere) we observe Earth’s soil as frozen and fallow; it’s resting to be ready for when longer days return.
Walter Brueggemann, the brilliant Old Testament scholar, says this, “Sabbath, in the first instance, is not about worship. It is about work stoppage. It is about withdrawal from the anxiety system of Pharaoh, the refusal to let one’s life be defined by production and consumption and the endless pursuit of private well-being.”
Despite Advertising’s efforts to move us through this slower, liminal time and fast forward to Spring, we can honor what might feel a bit messier, but also more true. Stillness or sabbath, is the first practice to help us envision the life we are called to live, a place where God needs and wants to be born. Sometimes, the stillness is blissful but we cannot forget Brueggemann’s mention of an anxiety system that suggests our worth is determined by what we do and what we acquire. I don’t know about you, but when I pull away from such patterns, I feel disoriented and quite frankly, duped. In stillness, there can be a nervous backlash in response to “not doing.” I’m reminded of some lines from the David Wagoner poem, “Lost.”
Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you are not lost… You must let them find you.
Alright, so we slow down, and in that strange place of leaving the day-to-day pace of 120mph, finding ourselves on foot, in the forest, we might actually discover feelings. That’s right, I said this can get messy! When we allow ourselves to slow down so much that our emotional voices can be heard, what do they say? And more importantly, will we honor them? Feeling is the second practice that helps move us toward the world we are empowered to co-create. We begin with our own feelings, but to really appreciate the collective emotional intelligence available, there’s more to this one.
Soong-Chan Rah, is a theologian and seminary professor who is committed to freeing spiritual communities from what he calls, “Western Cultural Captivity.” Rah writes, “Lament is honesty before God and each other… should we not be concerned over a church that lives in denial over the reality of death in our midst?” Friends, as readers of “Progressing Spirit,” and earlier posts by Bishop Spong, we are not blind to the death around us – the extinction of species, our government’s termination of life-affirming policies, and the archetypal display of patriarchy in its last gasps. While so much of laboring to birth God begins inwardly, as individuals, it is what we do together that makes our beliefs visibly alive in the world. This is tough when the dominant system rewards us for our ability to do things without needing any help – some thrive on this, and some give up entirely, hoping that others will find a magical way forward. But these, “Independence Teachings,” are written nowhere in the sacred texts I know. Moreover, Earth’s teachings repeatedly show us the brilliant interdependency that sustains us all – trees needing CO2, and mammals needing oxygen – as the most obvious example.
After winter’s snow and ice, rivers of water and muddy, sloppy mush precede the return of firm earth, gardens and leaves. Our communities are only as strong as the transparency and vulnerability we entrust to them. How will your spiritual community resolve, this year, to acknowledge the mess? To create a very intentional time and space for lament…and then to mindfully respond? When our anguish is fully met, we see our passions and convictions more clearly; more love becomes possible. Love = God being born.
In the poem, “The Man Watching,” Rainer Maria Rilke urges us to lean-in, allowing Earth’s expressions of intensity to metaphorically mentor us,
What we choose to fight is so tiny! What fights with us is so great!
If only we would let ourselves be dominated as things do
by some immense storm,
we would become strong too, and not need names.
In the lines just after these, Rilke refers to Jacob wrestling the angel. Dominated in the struggle, Jacob “loses,” and comes away forever changed, blessed. In the face of more frequent natural disasters and civil wars over resources, we are most certainly being asked to wrestle! We don’t have to, of course, but I suspect that if we apply stillness and allow our true feelings to surface, that engagement will be a natural response. It is one thing to love Earth, to strive to defend and protect Her, but as with any sacred activism, there is also the moment when we lose our attachment to the outcome, when we move a particular way in the world because of a sacred communion we feel. And here it is! The third and final practice for this article. Do you feel Earth’s love for you? In the noise around us, imagining the magnitude of Earth’s love for us is a radical act.
Last July, there was an eerie string of days when a Delaware-sized piece of the Larsen C ice shelf was breaking away from Antarctica. Did some of you watch that? I was astonished, watching science blogs with awe and terror. I wanted to call out, “Is anyone else listening to this? Who among us is thinking about what this really, really means?” A few weeks later, I heard myself say to a close friend, “I wish the whole world would’ve paused for a moment of silence.” Yes! What if we had? Would anything feel different right now if, when the Larsen C left the South Pole to melt steadily on its float to the North, humans around the world had taken 60 seconds to be still…and to feel? We do this for other epic events, tragic, cosmic or otherwise. Where were you, for example, on the day of the total eclipse?
Perhaps the Larsen C’s split from Antarctica is the Divine plan unfolding just as it should. None of us knows how our story with Earth is to evolve or find its end for that matter; but it is in this paradoxical space of wrestling and finding blessing that our spiritual paths are formed. I think we do this because we DO know the Love that comes from it — the Divine Love that is in us, and for us, wants us to be in Love.
As 2018 evolves, how do you perceive God needing to be born? When we’re clear about what isn’t working, Eco-ministry asks us to imagine what we do want and I hope we all will consider these three practices: Stopping for Stillness, Daring to Feel and sharing our Laments in Community, and then Wrestling – not for the perceived reward of winning – but rather to receive the unimaginable flow of Earth’s Love that is in us, for us and beyond us, calling us to God who is always needing to be born!
~ Lauren Van Ham
Read the essay online here.
About the Author
Lauren Van Ham 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). Her passion and training in the fine arts, spirituality and Earth’s teachings has supported her specialization in eco-ministry, grief and loss, and sacred activism. Lauren’s work with Green Sangha (a Bay Area-based non-profit) is featured in Renewal, a documentary celebrating the efforts of environmental activism taking place in religious America. Her essay, “Way of the Eco-Chaplain” appears in the collection, Ways of the Spirit: Voices of Women. Lauren tends a private spiritual direction practice and serves as Dean for The Chaplaincy Institute in Berkeley, CA.
Question & Answer
Cynthia from Engleswood, New Jersey asks:
Question:
I belong to a church that has a fairly sophisticated membership. We are inclusive and pride ourselves on our openness to diversity of race, socio-economic background, ethnic background and sexual orientation. It's a warm, comfortable atmosphere in which to worship, and people remark on the welcoming nature of our congregation. I cringe, however, every time we enter the Lenten season, especially as we get closer to Palm Sunday and Good Friday. Some of the references to the Jews clearly foster an anti-Semitic atmosphere. There are Jews in the choir and some in the congregation as well. While sophisticated people realize there is a 2000-year span of time between the Crucifixion and today, still there are people who succumb to literalist interpretations and justify their own prejudices. I am especially concerned about the impression this makes on children and for the feelings of the Jews who sit in the pews and listen to these readings. How can we address this and still read the accounts in a faithful manner?
Answer: Kevin G. Thew Forrester, Ph.D.
Dear Cynthia, your concerns resonate deeply with me. Although context is not everything, it affects everything. Texts that emerged originally within a Jewish milieu and embody intra-Jewish differences, today land upon the heart and ear as anti-Jewish rhetoric within the very core of the holiest days of the Christian liturgical year. To be unresponsive is to be irresponsible. Our multicultural and interfaith context requires that we make significant changes in worship if we are to be faithful to the Christic wisdom path of Jesus.
Over the past decade I have worked with communities within the Episcopal church, at least one of which has various faith traditions counted among its worshiping membership, to reconceive the vision of Holy Week, to draw upon radically inclusive translations of scriptural texts, and to preach in such a way as to deliberately and forthrightly acknowledge the anti-Jewish history and rhetoric of prayer, song, and story, and to rewrite the liturgies we pray that shape our searching souls. Let me offer a few concrete examples.
Our flyer for Holy Week speaks of The Wisdom Way of Christ: A Holy Path for 21st Century Seekers. The spiritual path of the realization of our Christic nature, not sacrificial atonement, is the genesis of our worship. Within this embracing vision, the distinct liturgical days receive their renewed focus, drawing principally from the Wisdom literature of the scriptures. The Reign of Wisdom is the meaning of Palm Sunday. Being Sent to Serve is the thrust of Maundy Thursday. Companionship and Cross, not abandonment and isolation, is the heart of Good Friday, and the reality that Light Renews our Life is the message of Easter.
But it is not enough to reform the liturgies of Holy Week. The liturgies and readings and songs and prayers which shape us throughout the entire year must be reworked to reflect more clearly the Jewish spirituality of Jesus of Nazareth. We also need to radically expand our vision of what a faith community is today. For not only are there Jews who sit beside Christians in our faith communities, there are also Muslims and Unitarians and Buddhists and those who consciously eschew labels of identification and are searching for a safe place to search and question and be supported.
What this diverse presence brings is an invitation: the faith community exists not to convert to a belief system, but to welcome into faith journey. There is a universal relevance in the Christic wisdom path of Jesus: each and every being is a unique and precious embodiment of the Holy Source; a chosen One of immeasurable worth. Too often the light of Christ is dulled and distorted by text and ritual when it need not be. Our responsibility is to polish the lenses from centuries of deadening dust.
~ Kevin G. Thew Forrester, Ph.D.
Read and share online here
About the Author
Kevin G. Thew Forrester, Ph.D. 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“.
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Bishop John Shelby Spong Revisited
The Connection between the Crucifixion and the Passover, Part II
Last week I began the analysis of the crucifixion of Jesus as it appears in all four gospels, examining in particular the claim that this founding moment in the Christian story occurred in the context of the Passover, which celebrates the founding moment in the sacred story of the Jewish people. I raised the question as to whether that connection is literal, remembered history or is rather an interpretative liturgical adaptation. My first clue was found in an examination of the narrative of the crucifixion found in Mark, the earliest gospel, which scholars generally date in the early 70's C.E. In that story of the Passion, (14:17-15:47), I pointed out that we have a format of a 24-hour vigil divided into eight clearly marked three-hour segments. The material that provides the content of this account has been lifted not from remembered history, but from Psalm 22 and Isaiah 53. That was my first clue. Christians need to embrace that even the treasured description of Jesus' crucifixion is not literal history, it is later interpretative material. Jesus died alone with no one standing by to record what happened. Mark has made that clear by his assertion that when Jesus was arrested all of his disciples forsook him and fled (Mark 14:50).
It is the setting of the crucifixion story against the observance of the Passover that first started my questioning process. Passover is observed in the Jewish world on the 14th and 15th days of the month of Nisan, which would place it in late March or early April on our calendars. The biblical narrative in Mark, Matthew and Luke (to put them in the order in which they were written) suggests that the Palm Sunday triumphal entry into Jerusalem took place just five days before the Passover. It indeed was the Passover celebration that drew Jesus and his disciples to Jerusalem in the first place. If this entry came a week before Passover it would move the date to somewhere between mid-March and the first of April.
Yet the Palm Sunday procession, according to the earliest narration in Mark (11:1-10) was accompanied by the spreading of leafy branches that they cut from the fields (Mark 11:8). The only trouble with that little detail is that at that time of year, there are no leafy branches in the Holy Land. The leaves have not yet come out! Is that a hint that the Palm Sunday procession was either not history at all or was not originally in the spring of the year? It is at the very least a provocative clue that we might want to probe further.
The next step in our analysis comes when we examine the passion narrative in Matthew, which was the second gospel to be written, coming some 10-12 years after Mark. However, we know that Matthew had Mark in front of him when he wrote, so any time we see that Matthew has overtly and clearly changed the text of Mark, we need to ask why. What was his reason? Can we discover his agenda? Looking at Matthew's version of Mark's Palm Sunday procession story (Matt. 21:1-9) we discover a fascinating note. Whereas Mark refers to the cutting of "leafy" branches, Matthew, perhaps aware that there were no leaves on the branches of the trees in late March or early April, simply omits the reference to the leaves. This means that in Matthew's gospel the crowd only cut branches (v. 8). A branch without leaves might better be called a stick and sticks without leaves are not thought of as instruments that can be spread or waved. It is the leaves that provide the cover on the ground on which the procession can move. It is the leaves that flutter when the branches are waved. So I become slightly more suspicious when Matthew omits the leaves from these branches.
Turning next to Luke who wrote some 5 to 10 years after Matthew, and who also had Mark before him when he composed his gospel, we discover another interesting clue. Luke's Palm Sunday story (19:28-44) has omitted any reference to the waving of the branches at all.
There are no leafy branches in Luke because there are no branches at all. Luke has replaced that gesture with another. In Luke's Palm Story the people only lay down their clothes before him (v. 36). Was Luke also suggesting that Mark's story did not add up and he wanted to make it consistent? There were no leafy branches to be waved in the Holy Land in March.
When we come to John's gospel, that is generally dated somewhere between 95-100, we believe that we are dealing with a different and independent source. He is not dependent on the rest of the synoptic tradition.The data we find here is thus even more fascinating. John does not appear to identify Jesus' entry into Jerusalem with the Passover. He has been there in the region for some time. Jesus however stages a procession into Jerusalem just a few days before the Passover. When we recall that John is the only gospel that claims to be based on the work of an eyewitness, his placement needs to be looked at carefully. I know of no scholar who thinks this gospel was actually written by the disciple of Jesus named John Zebedee. However, there is a strong scholarly tradition that suggests that the Fourth Gospel John might be the work of a disciple of the apostle John and thus might reflect more remembered history than the others.
The Johanine note that I wish to add to the growing data, however, is that John is the first gospel to suggest that the branches they waved were made out of palm and thus were evergreen. Palms however would not be characterized as "leafy branches." By naming the Sunday before Easter, Palm Sunday, we have stamped the day with its particular identification with palm branches so it is of interest to note that only in a book written 65-70 years after the crucifixion does the narrative suggest that palms were used in the triumphal entry. One wonders why that note would have escaped the memory of the authors of Mark, Matthew and Luke. None of this is yet a persuasive argument. It is only a series of hints that are becoming cumulative — so on we move.
We come next to the story of a fig tree that Mark relates as coming on the day after the Palm Sunday procession (Mark 11:12-14, 20, 21). Mark's account says that when Jesus arrived in Jerusalem, he went to the Temple and looked around. Presumably he saw the commerce and the moneychangers at work but he did nothing more than to take in this scene before withdrawing for the night to Bethany where the group was headquartered, probably at the home of Mary and Martha.
The next day on their way up to Jerusalem from Bethany for the activity that came to be called the cleansing of the Temple, Mark tells us that Jesus was hungry. Seeing a fig tree in the distance, he went to it seeking figs. However, no fig tree bears fruit in late March in the northern hemisphere. Jesus, apparently unaware of that bit of reality, is irate and curses the fig tree to eternal barrenness. It is a strange portrait of Jesus, generally ignored by sermon writers. To curse a fig tree for not bearing fruit in March is not unlike blaming a man for not getting pregnant. It is to be judged for the inability to do the impossible. After this episode, Mark relates the dramatic story of Jesus driving those buying and selling as well as those changing money from the Temple. Then on the way home, Mark concludes the fig tree story by observing that Jesus' curse took. The fig tree had withered to its roots.
Is this again hidden evidence of a different dating process? Had this story been in the fall it would not be so jarring, so difficult to understand the actions of Jesus. Is this a hint that it was originally a fall narrative and that when it was moved into the orbit of the Passover in early spring all of its now inappropriate time references were not smoothed away?
Once more we turn to see what Matthew and Luke do with this strange story as they work from Mark's text to create their own. Matthew relates the fig tree story almost identically. He simply makes it wither at once and does not have to revisit this uncomfortable narrative as Mark does. Luke however omits it altogether in this context, but earlier in his gospel (Lk 13:6-9) he uses much of this material in a parable about a fig tree that it does not produce fruit, creating in the owner of that land the desire to cut the unproductive tree down. His foreman saves the tree for at least a year with the promise of digging around it and fertilizing it.
The leafy branches reference in the first Palm Sunday triumphal entry story and the fig tree story were both told as part of the preamble to the crucifixion at the time of the Passover. They both seem out of place in that early spring setting. Is there a hint in these narratives that the original context of both was the fall of the year? They look like they have been moved and rather clumsily at that. When these things are examined one cannot help but wonder if these accounts were not originally connected with the fall of the year and, sometime between the death of Jesus and the writing of the gospels, were moved because the crucifixion had been attached liturgically to the Passover, and the death of the Paschal Lamb at Passover had become the way the death of Jesus was interpreted. I invite you to hold that possibility open until we can examine another clue that seems to suggest that the details of the Palm Sunday story have been borrowed from another Jewish tradition that occurs in the fall of the year.
To that story I will turn next week as this series on the relationship of the Passion Story of Jesus and the Passover of the Jews continues.
~ John Shelby Spong
Originally published May 9, 2005
Announcements
The Co
smic Mass
with Matthew Fox
Seeing Deeper: Healing Deeper
"An Interfaith Ritual for Interracial Healing"
Join Matthew Fox's Cosmic Mass on February 8th, 2018 from 6:30pm to 9:30pm at the Washington Cathedral, 3101 Wisconsin Ave. NW, Washington DC.
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This article, "Is this a Bonhoeffer Moment?" from Sojourners magazine would probably be of interest. Thank you.
https://sojo.net/magazine/February-2018/this-bonhoeffer-moment-American-Chr…
Peace,
Edith
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Reminder for entries
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1/25/18, Forrester/Spong: Dawning of Christ-Consciousness: From Separation to Union; Spong revisited
by Ellie Stock 25 Jan '18
by Ellie Stock 25 Jan '18
25 Jan '18
HOMEPAGE MY PROFILE ESSAY ARCHIVE MESSAGE BOARDS CALENDAR
Dawning of Christ-Consciousness: From Separation to Union
Kevin G. Thew Forrester, Ph.D.
........
........John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness,
........proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the
........forgiveness of sins…. And a voice came from
........heaven, You are my Son, the Beloved; with
........you I am well pleased. (Mk. 1:4, 1:11)
What is happening in the human soul when someone, such as the President of the United Sates, refers to the predominately black countries of Africa and that of Haiti with dehumanizing racist rhetoric? What is happening in the human soul when political leaders seek simplistic solutions to cultural shifts in the erection of walls? What is happening in the human soul when the U.S. President fails to condemn neo-Nazi violent demonstrations?
Unacknowledged fear withdraws the soul from intimate contact in the hope that survival is secured through separation. The soul, over time, develops a schizoid structure wherein it unconsciously pulls back from the feared “other” as the source of danger and destruction. The walls within the soul cast long, dark, shadows, dispelling the living daylight of truth.
I would like to return to a well-known story for perhaps an unlikely source of wise guidance. Familiar tales, such as the baptism of Jesus narrated in the opening verses of the Markan community’s gospel, tend to foster a fogging of consciousness. We’ve heard the words so many times there seems to be little, if any, poignancy left. What possible meaning could an encounter of two Jewish men in Palestine have for those of us involved on the spiritual journey today, where fear constructs walls casting long shadows? I believe the key lies in the realization that fear-based separation is the blindness that taunts and haunts and seduces the human heart. I understand this realization as the dawning of Christ-consciousness in the soul of Jesus.
Separation
We know very little about the early years of Jesus. But archeological and textual studies, among many other disciplines, are making it possible to develop reasonable theories. The work of biblical scholar Bruce Chilton, as mentioned in a previous column, is representative. If I understand Chilton’s thesis correctly, Jesus is not a typical Jew. This is because his paternity would have been in question: Mary is an unwed mother who has been intimate with Joseph – a legendary figure of whom we know nothing. Sexual intimacy outside of marriage is not necessarily scandalous in 1st century Judaism, but being with child without clear knowledge of who the father is threatens blood lines and the purity of the tribe. Ignorance births fear. Such a child would have been categorized as a mamzer, and removed from typical or customary forms of religious socialization, such as gathering with the other boys and men for religious instruction. In keeping with the regulations laid down in Leviticus, fear for religious purity – and the status it was believed to have secured in society and before Adonai – would have led to the separation of the tainted child. Fear motivated the withdrawal from the company of the perceived impure Jesus.
A number of scholars also propose that Jesus, at some point in his early teen years, very well could have made his way to the Essenes at Qumran, which is where he would have come to have known another somewhat legendary and enigmatic figure, John the Baptist. The Essenes were Jewish ascetics. When they surveyed early 1st century Jewish culture they perceived collusion and compromise of the faith at all of the critical fulcrums: the priestly Sadducees ran temple worship thru cooperation with the Roman authorities; Jewish daily life was a series of compromises with Greco-Roman culture; Jewish faith was rapidly deteriorating with the chosen people living less and less like serious adherents of the covenant. Survival, the Essenes believed, depended upon separation. The hills were their walls behind which they withdrew for survival.
Jesus was thus a marginal Jew – which is to say someone on the edges of dominant cultural life. He also likely came to find himself in the company of men who had chosen to be marginalized due to the spiritual corruption of the very people who had judged Jesus to be impure. (The ironies of fear-based separation never cease to abound; walls would seem to beget more walls.)
And so, the Essenes moved themselves away from quotidian Jewish life and congregated in the hills of Qumran. Here they purified themselves through ritual baths (or baptisms). Here they ate little and wore little, exposing themselves to the harsh elements so as to tame the beastly sexual and social instincts. This was a community for men only, thereby lessening the possibility of contamination and temptation. The end days were coming that would usher in the final battle, and if they were to be ready, separation from all distraction and purification of the wandering and desiring heart was absolutely necessary.
The souls of John and Jesus imbibed this Essene ascetical spirituality, perhaps for a number of years – fear-driven withdrawal in the hope of salvation through separation.
Waters of Separation or Union?
We don’t know exactly when, but at some point, both John and Jesus departed Qumran. John, however, seems to have only left the community in a geographic sense. If the biblical accounts are to be believed, he continued life as an ascetic – he ate and wore little, and he preached his baptism of repentance. John was not only not of the world, we might say, he was barely in the world. And for good reason, for according to his heart the world was a place of temptation and corruption. Essene spirituality still shaped his soul. He perceived the river Jordan as waters separating pure from impure. He proclaimed a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And the sin had to do with continued collusion and cooperation with the wayward world. Sin, in other words, was failure to remain separate.
Only because of what is to ensue can we say that Jesus’ decision to receive John’s baptism of repentance comes as a stunner. Contrary to the dominant teaching of Christianity, Jesus clearly accepts John’s invitation to understand himself as a sinner with the need to repent of his sins and enter the waters of the Jordan. But, as I understand it, Jesus repents of a very different sin than that governing the religious imagination of John. John understands sin as failure to remain separate. Jesus knows sin as the false perception of ourselves as separate not only from God, but from one another and even from our own true heart. From within the womb of Judaism, Jesus inverts the spirituality of John and births a new spiritual path of union; a path generated from trust, not driven by fear.
Dawning of Christ-Consciousness
Along the way of leaving Qumran and receiving baptism from John, Jesus begins to realize that he and the Holy Source are not separate. He begins to experience that there is nothing of impurity distancing his being from Being. This dawning realization of his true nature will come to fruition in the spirituality of the Johannine community, when this gospel speaks of Jesus and the Source as being One. A complementary fruition, I believe, is found in the community of Thomas, wherein the followers of Jesus understand that each of us is to realize the same truth as Jesus, and thereby be his twin in Christ-consciousness.
The sin, or better said, blindness, is not realizing that union is the truth of the human condition. Not only the human condition, but the condition of creation. The Holy Source is the essential nature of all that is. And more, Love, Boundless Love, is the fabric of our true and essential nature.
We can describe the rest of Jesus’ life as the gradual discovery of what it is to be a human being who lives from the truth that Love is his essence. The baptism of Jesus is a story of the dawning of Christ-consciousness: all of reality is always already One. Not One in a numerical sense, but One as being a unified whole without boundaries. Like Jesus, we are on the spiritual path of realizing how to live a life with this truth as its core: a life of emerging Christ-consciousness.
~ Kevin G. Thew Forrester, Ph.D.
Read the essay online here.
About the Author
Kevin G. Thew Forrester, Ph.D. 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
JP from the Internet, asks:
Question:
I don't understand why, for centuries the BIBLE has been and IS the inspired word of GOD. Now, for some reason, a few (and not chosen few) think it is just a storybook. It is their fault that the United Methodist church is breaking up. The BIBLE is clear on what GOD thinks of homosexuality. If you notice, the churches that are growing are not mainline liberal churches but fundamental Bible-believing churches. I was raised a Protestant Methodist.
Answer: Rev. David M. Felten
Dear JP,
Wow, growing up in the Methodist Protestant Church makes you a member of a unique and particularly tenacious group of Southerners! I understand this is a group that walked out of the 1939 Methodist merger bringing together denominations that had split over slavery 100 years prior. Your MPC ancestors were (and I believe still are) convinced that the Bible is infallible and inerrant (which is demonstrably NOT the case). It did, however, help them make a Biblical case for slavery (and the “attacks of the Abolitionists,” who “would disturb the settled order of Providence, and dissolve the connection between master and slave, that has been recognized by the great Governor of the Universe).
My guess is that the MPC probably doesn't support slavery any more (at least publicly), but back in the day, they made the same argument for slavery that I think you’re making for opposing basic civil rights for non-heterosexuals: the “settled order” “recognized by the great Governor of the Universe." I hope we can agree that God's "settled order" was wrong about slavery. According to the Bible, God's "settled order" also included the advocacy of genocide, women as property, and rampant xenophobia. I’d like to be able to say that these ideas are no longer considered acceptable, but like zombies, they don’t want to die. Sadly the've been given new credence by President Trump (who doesn’t understand why, “if we’ve got the nukes, why we can’t use them”, brags about grabbing women by the genitals, and dismisses whole countries as “shitholes.”) So, far from being embarrassing chapters we’d rather forget, we’ve still got to contend with people who think genocide, misogyny, and xenophobia are OK, but homosexuality is bad.
It begs the question: What is it about the issue of homosexuality that makes people so upset? What is it about basic civil rights for all Americans that causes people to resort to getting God involved in opposition? That's a strategy that hasn't worked out too well for God over the years. Breaking news: "God is against basic human rights." Yikes.
Look, I don’t have an answer – and neither do the poor sots who’ve been tasked with trying to keep the United Methodist denomination from breaking up over the next year or so. It goes right back to the slaveholder vs. abolitionist playbook: anti-LGBTQ advocates clinging to disreputable Bible-passages vs. those convinced that all human beings are of sacred worth (despite what a few passages in the Bible say).
You may not believe it, but I have deep respect for the Bible. I've spent my entire adult life studying it. And I'm here to tell you (as evidently one of the "not chosen") that it is indeed a storybook -- but not "just" a storybook. It contains the stories of people who have spent their whole lives wrestling with and interpreting the meaning of life. It is not inerrant. It is not historical. Its books contain stories -- stories with way more meaning than mere history. Our job is to interpret those stories for a new generation, not simply try to conform to old ways of thinking.
One of the books I recommend to people who are wrestling with some of the things it sounds like you're wrestling with is Bishop John Shelby Spong's "Rescuing the Bible from Fundamentalism." He, too, grew up in a Southern fundamentalist denomination and has since come to a different understanding of the Bible and his faith. If you get it and read it, I'd love to correspond with you about any questions you have.
Wrestling with new ideas is never easy – especially when they seem to threaten a comfortable, established way of looking at the world. To paraphrase Harry Emerson Fosdick (a Baptist, BTW), “The enemy of Christianity isn’t change, but stagnation.” To celebrate and encourage the cessation of change will continue to drive young and old alike out of what’s left of the church.
But, if we embrace the core values of justice and compassion expressed in the Bible, we are compelled to stand with the oppressed and voiceless, accommodating the reality that the Spirit is flexing with our evolving humanity. For me, clinging to values that exclude and disrespect others is made even worse when they’re justified by out-of-context Biblical proof texting. It’s theological malpractice.
Read Jack’s book. Go sit in a quiet place and ask yourself, will God really love me more because I hate the right people? I’ll leave it to you.
Committed to Progress,
David
PS: Just to be clear, I doubt the MPC is growing (I think there are only a few dozen MPCs left, scattered across the Confederacy). And as a matter of fact, it's a myth that "fundamental Bible believing churches" are growing like crazy. Everybody's losing members -- even those wildly liberal Southern Baptists have lost a million members in the last 10 years. If you want more statistics, you can find them on the web.
Read and Share online here
About the Author
Rev. David M. Felten is a full-time pastor at The Fountains, a United Methodist Church in Fountain Hills, Arizona. David and fellow United Methodist Pastor, Jeff Procter-Murphy, are the creators of the DVD-based discussion series for Progressive Christians, “Living the Questions”.
A co-founder of the Arizona Foundation for Contemporary Theology and also a founding member of No Longer Silent: Clergy for Justice, David is an outspoken voice for LGBTQ rights both in the church and in the community at large. David is active in the Desert Southwest Conference of the United Methodist Church and tries to stay connected to his roots as a musician. You’ll find him playing saxophones in a variety of settings, including appearances with the Fountain Hills Saxophone Quartet.
David and his wife Laura, an administrator for a large Arizona public school district, live in Phoenix with their three often adorable children.
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Bishop John Shelby Spong Revisited
The Connection between the Crucifixion and the Passover, Part I
The symbols of Christmas have been stored away. In Christian churches we are in the poorly defined season of Epiphany, waiting for Lent to appear on the horizon. Supermarket advertisements of seafood dishes for the Lenten diet announce Lent's arrival, but little attention is paid to it until its last week when the climax of the Christian story is relived. Holy Week includes the celebrations of Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday and Good Friday. Psychologically, we are moving from the cheering crowds of Palm Sunday to the jeering crowds of Good Friday.
In the biblical narrative these final events in Jesus' life are set against the background of the Jewish observance of the Passover, which provides a clue into how the earliest Christians came to understand the meaning of Jesus' death. Whether that placement is a matter of history or is instead an interpretive liturgy is the place I want to begin this week in a series of columns that will attempt to re-interpret the founding moments in the Christian story.
Both the Passover and Holy Week celebrate death and the birth of new life and in the process, call those observing these rites to new beginnings. Both the Passover and the Passion Narrative speak of a deliverance from bondage. Passover's bondage was slavery in Egypt. Holy Week's bondage was the 'bondage of sin.' Passover related a death and resurrection experience of a nation at the Red Sea; Holy Week a death and resurrection experience of an individual. In later Christian practice, the waters of baptism, in which we are said to enter Christ's death become, when we are raised from those waters in a symbolic resurrection, the gateway to eternal life. In this manner the liturgies of Passover, Eucharist and Baptism came to be united. From as far back as our written Christian sources go the Crucifixion and Resurrection of Jesus were set in the context of the Jewish Passover. The Passover was located in the calendar at that moment of early spring when, at least in the northern hemisphere, tiny shoots of green living things are breaking through the crust of an apparently dead 'Mother earth.' When the passion narrative of Jesus was linked to Passover this time became attached to the story of his death and resurrection.
In an earlier book, "Resurrection: Myth or Reality?" I assumed the historicity of that connection, but further study through the years has challenged this. I am now convinced that liturgical pressure and not remembered history forced the two events together. I also now believe that it was the difficulty in making sense of the death of Jesus that caused the early Christians to identify the cross with the Passover and that this in turn provided the theological lynchpin needed to understand Jesus' death as being related to salvation. This insight has caused me to rearrange in a radical way the time line of the gospels. The first step is to separate the cross from the Passover. The second step, and perhaps far more important one, is to recognize that the experience of resurrection has to be separated from the day of crucifixion not by three days, but by perhaps as long as six months to a year. That time frame would put an end to that late developing tendency to think that the resurrection has anything to do with a resuscitated body. If I can demonstrate the truth of these two possibilities then I can show that there is a different way to look at the story of the cross and to explore anew the meaning of Easter.
To open the first timeline it is essential to know exactly what the Bible says. Mark, the first written gospel (70-75 C.E.), assumes that the meal on the night before the crucifixion is the Passover meal. He portrays Jesus (14:13ff) as sending disciples in search of a man who will lead them to a large furnished upper room, where they can prepare for the celebration. Mark then chronicles in intimate detail the final twenty-four hours in Jesus' earthly life.
This stylized narrative begins in Mark 14:17 when the evangelist notes that "when it was evening," that is around 6:00 pm, the disciples gathered with Jesus for the Passover meal. That meal usually lasted for three hours or until 9:00 pm when it ended with the singing of a hymn and departure. Mark then describes seven other episodes, each of which is another three-hour segment as that fateful night unfolded. We are told that Jesus and his disciples go to the Garden of Gethsemane, where Peter, James and John could not watch with him one, two or three hours. It was now midnight. The act of betrayal is thus set at the darkest point of the night. The arrested Jesus is then dragged before the Chief priests for a trial that presumably lasted until 3:00 a. m. One quickly doubts the historicity of this episode since the Torah forbade Jewish authorities from sitting in judgment at night. Liturgy, however, can ignore that historical detail.
In the watch of the night between 3:00 and 6:00 a. m., known as "cockcrow," Mark tells us the story of Peter's threefold denial, one for each hour I would suggest. At the crowing of the cock it is now 6:00 am and Mark's text tells us right on cue (15:1) that "as soon as it was morning" the Council of the Jews led Jesus away to Pilate. This new three-hour segment includes the stories of Barabbas, the lashing of Jesus and the crown of thorns. Mark then informs us (15:25) that it was the "third hour" or 9:00 am when they crucified him. When the sixth hour came (15:33) Mark said that darkness covered the earth until the ninth hour or 3:00 p.m., when Jesus cried with a loud voice, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" and breathed his last. From 3:00 to 6:00 p.m. Mark suggests that they have time to remove his body from the cross and to bury him fittingly in Joseph's tomb. It is thus obvious that the earliest version of the crucifixion story is liturgically shaped to be a twenty-four vigil, divided into eight segments and was constructed not to tell believers what actually happened but to lead them into a remembrance of who Jesus was and the role he played in the drama of their salvation.
That conclusion is heightened by the realization that almost all of the content that Mark uses to develop his story of how Jesus died, comes not from eyewitnesses but from two primary sources in the ancient Hebrew Scriptures: Psalm 22 and Isaiah 53. From Psalm 22, Mark draws the words, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me." He described the crowd at the cross using the words of this Psalm (v.7,8). Next he tells the story of Jesus' thirst again using the words of this Psalm (v. 14,15). Then he relates the account of the soldiers dividing his garments based on this Psalm (v.18). This is clearly not remembered history. In Isaiah 53 a portrait is drawn of one called the Servant or the Suffering Servant of the Lord. Isaiah says this Servant figure "was numbered with the transgressors" (v. 12). From that line, Mark created the story of the two thieves crucified one on each side of him. Isaiah says that the Servant figure was "with a rich man in his death" (v.9), so Mark created the story of a ruler of the Jews, Joseph of Arimathea, who made his new tomb in a garden available to receive the body of Jesus. Isaiah notes that the Servant made intercession for the transgressors (v. 12), so the stage is set for Luke to expand Mark's narrative by supplying the words of Jesus' intercession for the soldiers, "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do" (Luke 23:34). Mark has noted earlier (15:50) that when Jesus was arrested, "all of his disciples forsook him and fled," which means that we must embrace the fact that Jesus died alone. There were no eyewitnesses to record the details of Jesus' final hours so Mark's biblical account cannot be history. It is interpretive material, highly stylized and presented in a liturgical format. This clearly acknowledged data destabilizes all the claims for the historicity of the final events in Jesus' life other than the fact that the Romans executed him. Once we open this door, the possibility that the entire story of the Jesus' Passion is interpretive material, not historical memory, demands new attention.
Before moving to additional data supporting this conclusion, I need to note that in Mark, Matthew and Luke we do not have three separate accounts of the death of Jesus. Both Matthew and Luke have Mark's gospel in front of them as they write. While they both edit Mark and add to his narrative here and there, they accepted Mark's basic framework and time line. The Last Supper in all three of these gospels is the Passover meal, suggesting that the crucifixion occurred on the day following the Passover. Matthew adds an earthquake at the time of the crucifixion, and puts a temple guard around the tomb. Luke adds the story of one of the thieves being penitent (Lk 23:39-43) and gives the women, watching from afar, a bigger role. However, these are not independent corroborations of the Passover connection. Matthew copied into his gospel about 90% of Mark's content while Luke copied about 50%. Mark was the one who put the crucifixion and the Passover together. Matthew and Luke accepted that placement.
Finally, we note that the Fourth Gospel, John, is an independent source. John refers to a final meal that is characterized by a foot-washing ceremony but it is clearly not the Passover meal. John then is free to connect the crucifixion itself with the moment the Paschal Lamb is slaughtered. This meant that for John the Passover celebration would have occurred after sundown on the day Jesus was crucified. The timing is different but the connection between the death of Jesus and the Passover is no less real. In all four Gospels the story of the crucifixion is shaped by images from the Passover.
Does it make any real difference if the Passover observance was not the historical context during which the crucifixion occurred? I think it does for it breaks open the literalism of the past and drives us to explain how the two came to be related. That in turn provides a doorway into the primitive understanding of the Christ experience. We have only just begun, so stay tuned.
~ John Shelby Spong
Originally published February 2, 2005
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