A Knuckle Sandwich for Unity

I refuse to fall into the trap of bitchin’ about the secularization of the Christmas season this early. Advent hasn’t even started yet, so I will resist. Must resist being bitter and sour. Must… stay… strong…

Instead, lets talk about getting along (or the futile efforts to get along with others). I just finished reading The Meeting of East and West by F.S.C. Northrop (read my pithy review here). Northrop is trying to suggest a way for all cultures, especially Eastern and Western to get along. His idea is that we adjust our attitude of life, relax, try to be more in the moment and enjoy the aesthetic aspects in life. He takes almost 500 pages to say this and does it with much heaver, jargon labored, academic language and has a little more nuance than what I have offered as a synopsis. On the eve of World War II it is no surprise that Northrop thinks getting along is pretty important. Read the book, it is pretty awesome.

One major flaw in Northrop’s project is rooted the assumption that there is a way for people to get along. I have recently come to this profound realization when talking about and considering religious pluralism issues.

Before I go any further, you should know that I really do not enjoy talking about religious pluralism. The conversation usually has some major talking points:

We just need to realize how we are more similar than we think

We just need to learn about the other a little more

We all embrace the idea of the “golden rule”

There is a lot that these other religions can teach us

And my favorite:

We are all heading to the same place

It was right after this picture was taken that the lion proceeded to rip out the zebra's throat...

BLEH. These are surface, blasé ideas that wash everything with the same color paint and does not take the challenges or interfaith dialogue seriously. Currently I have been working on this idea of religious pluralism in one of the many committees I am on (and I am on more committees than I need to be) and recently found the group of people spiraling around the above comments. Just as I felt the overpowering urge to take my Bible (the hardcover, large print, King James version that all good Baptists should have) and start smashing my fingers in frustration I was stopped when someone noted brilliant observation that some people just don’t like other people. What!

This statement was exciting to me because if we took it seriously then we would have to take the time to address some of the real challenges that religious pluralism and ecumenism faces – how do you bring together people who really, really, really hate each other. For example, could you see bringing Egyptian Coptic Christians into a room with Egyptian Muslims? There is a lot of hatred because of a recent rash of Christian persecution in Egypt.

Or could you imagine bringing someone from the Armenian Orthodox church together with a Muslim from Turkey?

Or could you imagine bringing in a Baptist with another Baptist from a different church and/or denomination?

Impossible!

These are just three examples of people not liking people and I am sure there are many more. World religions are rife with violent and hateful feuds, tangled in a deep mistrust that make the infamous feud between Hatfields and McCoys look mellow. These division sare around identity, ethnic, religious, and familial. These divisions carry deep wounds, pain, and hatred between people of different faiths, ethnicities, and cultures. Recently, in light of the precarious cease fire concerning the Gaza Strip, I heard about a form of therapy for Palestine children. This therapy involved stomping on a mock Israel flag and then burning it in an effort to help the children express their anger. Such actions are not paving a way to peace.

When we consider a trite phrase like, “can’t we all just get along?” we need to be realistic about the deep, deep wounds that exist and that are still very open and fresh for many people. Northrop does not consider or address this reality. He is working from a very theoretical position, so he can be excused. Yet we carry his failure and flawed assumptions when we again and again enter into “interfaith dialogue” and ignore the reality of the world. It is difficult to face such hatred. It is scary to face such hatred. And, it ruins the closing ceremony when we all hold hands and sing, “Let there be peace on earth…”

If we want to take something like interfaith dialogue seriously, then we need to find a way to face such hatred, acknowledge it, and then see if there any possibility for the work of reconciliation. This is real work, hard work, and not many want to do it.

Stylish Rituals

A friend of mine just posted this on Facebook. All I can say is "wow." I'll offer my trademark rant after I get past the initial shock.

Ho Hum, I love Jesus, blah, blah, blah...

I finished reading a book yesterday. This is something that excites me because I tend to read such heavy and dense tomes that it takes me too darn long to get to the end. By the time I finish the book I find that I have forgotten what the beginning of the book was about. I suppose at that point I should read the book again, but then I would never get beyond one book.

I finished Peter Berger’s The Sacred Canopy. It is a slightly dated sociological work on religion, but has a still relevant analysis on the influence of secularization, pluralism, and the free religious market of America on churches today. I give it a wholehearted thumb and a half up. If there was more gratuitous sex in the book then I would give it two thumbs up, but alas it was not meant to be.

Yesterday (Sunday) morning I found myself staring at my sermon manuscript.

 My usual routine at that time of day is to go over my sermon a couple of times, read it out loud, and work on those final preparations. Yesterday I did not want to do it. I was not into it.

I do not think it was just the sermon itself – can you imagine me writing a dull sermon? Neither can I. I think it was deeper than the sermon that brought about the spiritual malaise of the moment. I think I would describe it as a lapse of faith.

Now don’t get all in a tizzy because I suggest I had a lapse of faith. I’m of the Saint John of the Cross school of thought; I feel people should have moments of the “Dark Night of the Soul” when they question and doubt. The intensity and severity of those moments will vary so not every moment of darkness will be all encompassing. They may be moments on a Sunday morning when you are sitting at your desk before worship, looking at your sermon, and wondering, “what the f**k am I doing?” I have these moments from time to time to time to time… These experiences are important because they are potentially moments to grow in faith (or to loose your faith but lets keep the glass half-full for now).

I still showed up to work. I smiled and I glad-handed, and was present for people. One of my fears is that I preach a sermon without conviction. In order to escape this potential preaching black hole I found that I had to work on my prayers and sense of God’s presence in my life during the service. Let me say that again. I had to work on my prayers and sense of God’s presence in my life.

The idea that prayer is work and that a sense of spirituality takes effort should not be new or earth shattering. Yet it is something that I need to remind myself of again and again. It is easy to read some Bible passage, sit for the appropriate amount of time, and then end with some pre-scripted prayer. I am amazed how well I can go through the entire schedule of my day during that time. What is difficult is focusing, listening for God, and actually sharing with God. This is work, hard work that I need to improve upon.

In the end I feel like I did a decent job with the sermon. I preached, I felt the movement of the Holy Spirit, and I believe there was sincerity to my conviction. This morning I started again to work on my prayer and spirituality. I really tried to work on being focused. I don’t think my family appreciated me yelling at the top of my lungs at 5am, “FOCUS ON GOD! FOCUS ON GOD! YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF ----, FOCUS ON THE LORD, THE REDEEMER. COME-ON, FOCUS ON GOD!”

In case you were hoping for something more grounded and academic – go read some of Teresa of Avila’s experience of spirituality, maybe the Interior Castle or something. Read St. John of the Cross’ Dark Night of the Soul – then go ahead and gloat that you actually finished a book

Take Your Partner Round the Bend...

I wonder if I am moving towards a biweekly posting schedule. I hope not, but that has been the pattern of things thus far. Maybe things will improve next week. Probably not, but lets pretend to hold some kind of hope.

How can we prove what we believe? How can we know our faith is real and true? I’ve been reading some David Hume and have some thoughts. We can never prove what we believe. We can never know our faith is real and true. Do you feel good about yourself now?

Yesterday I attended an ordination council. That is a time honored tradition of Baptist folks when a candidate for ordination (someone who want to be called “rev.”) reads a paper explaining all of his or her beliefs and why he or she “feels called” to be a pastor. Then everyone who has attended, pastors and representatives from other nearby churches, ask questions intended to:

1. Show how smart and clever the pastor is
2. Make the candidate look and feel foolish
3. Bring attention to his or her own struggles
4. Show how stupid the pastor is

It is a lot of fun, especially to watch a candidate try to act pastoral and understanding when a particularly stupid question is asked. Personally I think such things would be better solved through feats of strength and endurance but like I said, it is time honored.

Yesterday’s council went well; the fine, fine candidate did a fine, fine job with a fine, fine paper. I was interested in a claim made about scripture. I am going to put it in my own language to protect the identity of this candidate:

Scripture is authoritative because God has made it so. We know that God holds the ultimate power over everything and can imbue things with authority because scripture tells us so. Further, scripture tells us that God has made scripture authoritative. Therefore scripture is authoritative.

First, put down the inerrant, infallible, inspired quagmire that you want to cast in my direction. Hermeneutics is not the point of this post. Settle down.

Second, do you see the circle in the claim? Scripture is authoritative because God makes it so. We know this because scripture tells us so and we accept it because scripture is authoritative. Are you dizzy?

I’m not necessarily critiquing this claim. There are mountains of theological claims and arguments that are circular in nature. Feel free to spin to your heart’s content (just don’t throw up in my direction) as long as you are honest about your geometric convictions. It is one thing to present such a claim to a fellow believer, but what if it is presented to an outsider? All the outsider has to say is something like, “I don’t believe God has the power to imbue things with authority,” or, “I don’t believe in the existence of God.”

Listen.

Hear that?

It is the sound of the record scratching and the disco ball falling to the ground.

Theological claims, faith claims, are premised on a belief in something that cannot be demonstrated or proven. Take away that premise and everything else falls. I don’t think you can avoid this, but I do think it is important to be honest with your faith. That means when you are explaining your faith to the alien race that has come to understand and ultimately conquer the world there will come a point when you will say, “I can’t explain it. This is just what I believe.” If the other person cannot accept that premise or belief than do not expect anything else to be embraced. Don’t beat yourself us, go back to your circle of theology, and look for the dos-e-do between salvation and theodicy. 

Hee-Haw!