How to Read the Bible

The Bible is a marvelous book, filled with all manner of ancient literature. The Good Book is actually a library containing stories and poems, ordinances and letters, aphorisms and songs, and through it all there runs a narrative thread that holds it all together. That thread is this – the Bible tells the story of God’s loving work to save a fallen world. In that thread we find adventure stories and parables, apocalyptic visions and fireside tales, history lessons and romance, tragedy and comedy. What a marvelous read!

Still, the Bible is also a battleground for misunderstanding. People fight over interpretations. Preachers pontificate on prejudiced perspectives. Sadly, these in-house (or should I say “inter-church”) battles lead a skeptical world to remain unconvinced of the Bible’s veracity and relevance. What’s a well-meaning Bible teacher to do?

I love the Bible, but I have often been frustrated by the great divide between the scholarship which was commonly accepted in seminary and the resistance to that scholarship in the local church. I have spent more than twenty-five years in the local church and I am still trying to bridge the divide between seminary and church.

At the risk of oversimplifying, the issue seems to be centered on the questions we ask of scripture. I find in the local church that questions are too often focused on the historicity of scripture, as in, “Where did Cain’s wife come from?” “Have they found the ark on Mt. Ararat?” Where can we find the inn of the Good Samaritan?” Most of these questions have at their root a desire to know “if it really happened or not.” The supposition is, if it happened then the Bible is trustworthy, and if it didn’t happen then the whole of scripture is called into question.

Interestingly, none of those questions ever came up in seminary, because there the questions were not so much about the historicity of scripture, but about the theology of scripture. What we assumed was that this Good Book was written, not to give us facts, but to teach us about God and God’s relationship with the creation, particularly men women. So the questions were more like, “What does the story of Adam and Eve tell us about the nature of sin?” “How does the flood story tell us about God’s attitude toward sin?” “In what way do the people of Israel in their wilderness wandering serve as a picture of the church today?” In these questions we then seek the kinds of answers the Bible was actually written to address. The authority of scripture was never called into question, but the authority was based less on historical accuracy than theological profundity.

Historical questions are important, of course, but they are secondary to the theological questions. And I don’t care if we do find out where Cain’s wife came from because that knowledge will not help me be a better disciple. But if I wrestle with the theological questions, then perhaps I’ll learn more about the nature of God, and gain greater understanding about my own human nature, and God’s desire to illumine the divine image in which I was made.

I’ll go out on a limb. Seems to me it doesn’t matter if God created in seven days or over the course of billions of years. What is important is the faith THAT God is the one who did the creating (and I might add, is still creating (Psalm 104)). In that case, we can accept the science that supports evolution while still affirming the faith story that teaches us WHO is the Creator, and that the creation is essentially a “good” gift of God for human beings to “till and keep,” as good stewards. You see what I’ve done here. I’ve arrived at answers based on theological questions rather than, “how did it happen” questions.

So, instead of asking, “Did this happen or not?” Why not ask, “What does this have to do with God in my life?” Seems to me you will get plenty of mileage out of that second question, regardless of what your opinion of the historicity might be.

John Wesley said that scripture contains “all things necessary for faith and practice.” I like that. It says that scripture doesn’t answer all our questions, only the ones that help us live more faithfully. I’ve never been satisfied with attempts to prove the events of scripture. They always seem to me a misguided attempt to make faith unnecessary. Instead, let’s ask what this story has to tell us that is true about our struggles to live authentically? And how does God offer grace, judgment, hope, correction, and most of all, compassion in the midst of our human condition?

Early on in my pre-seminary days I had the helpful guidance of a mentor, my Father, who helped me ask the right questions of scripture, and in the pages of the Bible I heard the ring of Truth. My prayer for my congregation, and my hope for the world, is that we all discover this Truth in the well-worn stories of our sacred canon.

“Sing them over again to me, wonderful words of life.
Let me more of their beauty see, wonderful words of life.
Words of life and beauty, teach me faith and duty.”
Beautiful words, wonderful words, wonderful words of life.”

Advent Hope and Metaphor

Advent means “arrival.” Christians celebrate Advent, the season before Christmas as a time to remember the arrival of Jesus, God in the flesh, born of a woman in Bethlehem. We also remember the coming of Jesus as a young man ushering in the kingdom in answer to the hope of the Hebrew prophets.

There is another “arrival” we anticipate during Advent – the arrival of Christ to bring God’s purposes to their final conclusion. Many call this the “Second” coming but scripture simply speaks of the parousia(the appearing) of Jesus. In any case, the Advent of Christ, in its many forms, is a reason for hope for Christians and for the world. God brings salvation in Christ.

There is so much confusion about what Christian hope really is. Some writers have written series of fictional novels based on their peculiar interpretations of hope (the Book of Revelation plays heavily into these novels). The cataclysmic visions in Revelation play out like some fantasy epic in these interpretations. My still, small voice says, “Don’t buy it.”

The flaw in these interpretations is the failure to recognize the nature of first century apocalyptic literature, and the refusal to acknowledge something we all should have learned in ninth grade English literature classes – the use of metaphor. Metaphor - the use of poetic language to seek to expand or deepen meaning. When scripture says (Psalm 18:15),

Then the channels of the sea were seen,
and the foundations of the world were laid bare
at your rebuke, O LORD,
at the blast of the breath of your nostrils.

are we to believe that God has a nose? I doubt it. This is what we mean by metaphor – poetic language to enhance our sense of what is happening.

Likewise, when the writer of Revelation is describing apocalyptic visions of riders on horses, bowls of wrath, and great dragons, we might picture something out of Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings trilogy. But for goodness sake remember that it is all metaphor.

The short story is this: God wins. This is our hope. And my guess is that the way God wins has less to do with the violence of Revelation (all metaphor) and everything to do with the life of Jesus (stark reality). What is clear from Revelation is the absolute victory of God. What we often overlook is that the one who sits on the throne is still the Lamb that was led to the slaughter. What I believe is that the Christian hope is fulfilled now and in the end through the Way of the Cross. We will never take the world by force, only by sacrifice. As long as we keep trying to claim Christian hope by any other way, it will continue to elude us.

Advent hope. For past, present AND future – it comes as a vulnerable baby in a manger. It comes as a fragile human being hung on a cross. And if you need more hope than God-made-flesh, don’t forget the resurrection. The resurrection is sufficient confirmation for us to believe in the hope that comes through the Way of the Cross. The resurrection is God’s way of saying, “See, my Son got it right.”

Bullying and Homosexuality

Paul writes about women and men “exchanging natural intercourse” for “unnatural,” and based on this text from Romans 1:26 and following, plus a couple of passages from Leviticus in the Old Testament, there is strong condemnation of homosexuality in many Christian churches. And there it is in the Bible in rather harsh language.

There are books that can be written on this subject and this is not going to be one. I simply want to offer a perspective that even if we take this Biblical view at face value and consider homosexuality to be a sin, this does not give anyone permission to bully another human being as has been in the news so much in recent days.

The United Methodist Church of which I am a preacher/pastor holds that homosexuality is “incompatible with Christian teaching,” but we also affirm that every person, regardless of sexual orientation is of “sacred worth.” Therefore, no person of sacred worth is to be degraded or condemned by another person. This may be a fine line to walk but I have not found it difficult in my life to treat people with love and respect just because they are sinners (by the way, everyone I know, including myself, is a sinner). We are all saved by grace through faith, rather than through bullying and intimidation.

For those who might wish that the United Methodist Church was a little more vocal in its critique of homosexuality I offer this sobering perspective – in the same passage from Romans, quoted above, Paul also condemns those who are “covetous (greedy), malicious, envious, . . . full of strife, deceit, craftiness, gossips, slanderers . . . insolent, haughty, boastful . . . rebellious toward parents, foolish, faithless, heartless, ruthless . . .”

I don’t know about you, but I find myself in that list. So, my perspective on homosexuality is tempered by my own problems. Jesus said something about taking the log out of one’s own eye before removing the speck from the eye of another.

Why don’t we all take a deep breath and try to observe the Golden Rule, and teach our children to do the same – Do unto others as you would have them do to you.

Modesty

If I write this, I suspect I will come off sounding like I’m old. Out of touch, a prude, a prig. Since only a few folks read this blog, I doubt my reputation will be too badly tarnished in any respect.

I’m writing on modesty, or the lack thereof, in modern culture. Seems as if the “anything goes” mood of the hippie generation has caused fashion to lose its moorings in the current day. Why do people feel like they must impose on me their freedom to expose their skin? I think we have lost the distinction between what we do in a public space versus a private space.

Take music for instance. There is a kind of arrogance in those who blare their favorite music from their cars, windows down, volume up. It is a kind of assault, an act of aggression, “listen to my music or else.” At the very least it is a misuse of public space, an act of selfishness which does not take into consideration the needs of those around you. If you want to listen to your favorite music turned up loud, do it in a private space in such a way that it does not bother your neighbors, please.

So, back to the subject of dress. There is a similar arrogance in those who expose their favorite body parts from their clothes, neckline plunged, or pants sagging. It is an act of aggression, “I dare you not to look.” At the very least it is a misuse of public space, an act of selfishness which indeed, flaunts what one has regardless of the impact on others. If one wants to dress immodestly, then do so in a private space in such a way that it does not bother one’s neighbors, please. I do not want to see the cleavage of my child’s teacher anymore than I want to see the, ahem, cleavage of my plumber when he bends over the clogged pipes in my house.

Self-expression has reached new heights in post-modern culture. Our bodies have become canvases, or pin cushions. Professional dress has given way to casual Fridays to sloppy everydays. Who am I to say it is wrong?

Maybe it is not wrong. I just prefer not to have another’s self-expression rubbed in my face. Remember those parts of our bodies we once called “privates”? I would just like to keep them that way.

For Biblical consideration: The expressive love language of the Song of Solomon is rich with imagery and even innuendo, but without graphic, anatomical detail. Perhaps we can learn from this evocative poetry how to balance sensuality with modesty. Lover invites lover into the “garden,” or into the “chamber,” both private spaces for love’s consummation. May we take a hint from such scripture for how to make the distinction for dress in public and private spaces.

Separation of Church and State

Here is an issue that never seems to be settled – what does the phrase, “separation of church and state,” actually mean? The question is rooted in the First Amendment of the Constitution of the United States in regard to two clauses: 1) “Congress shall make no law respecting the establishment of religion,” or 2) “prohibiting the free exercise thereof.”

I doubt my thoughts carry too much weight, nor are they original but here goes.

First of all, separation of church and state is not the same thing as separation of sacred and secular. The Bible knows no such distinction. The “earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof,” is a well-known phrase from the psalms that so succinctly tells us that God cannot be compartmentalized into some holy shrine apart from the rest of life. Jesus’ famous words, “Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s and to God the things that are God’s,” would have been understood by his hearers, not as a separation of sacred and secular, nor as a justification for the separation of church and state, but as a thoughtful reminder that “everything” belongs to God.

So, when a person of Judeo-Christian faith enters public life as a civil servant, their faith should inform how they conduct themselves. Those who have argued that they can put their faith on the shelf while they carry out their role in government seem to me to be making light of both their faith and their public responsibility. Again, there is no Biblical distinction between sacred and secular.

Nevertheless, there do seem to be some common sense reasons for the two clauses of the First Amendment. The founders of our nation brought with them their experiences of religious oppression which they did not want to see repeated in the newly formed U.S.A. So, they decided we should have no religion “established” by the government, and that government would do nothing to prevent our exercise of religion. That sounds reasonable. That way there is no opportunity for one particular faith perspective to hold a monopoly over any other. While I might be perfectly comfortable with a government aligned completely according to Wesleyan (Methodist) principles, you, as a Catholic, or Baptist, or Presbyterian, or Pentecostal, or Jew, might have some issues with that. So, practically speaking, there is some value to the so-called separation clauses.

One repeated criticism of our school system, for instance, runs like this, “Everything was great until they took prayer out of schools,” as if to say that all our recent social ills can be traced to that cause. All I need to remember is one of my son’s elementary teachers whose particular brand of religion was significantly different from mine. I did not want her using the classroom as a pulpit for her peculiar theology. Nor, I suspect, would she have wanted her children under my tutelage, fearing what influence my theology would have on them. Also, back when prayers were a part of every teacher’s responsibility in the classroom, there were no civil rights for people of Afro-American heritage. I wonder if they think things were better when there was prayer in schools. I say, if you want your child to grow up with faith it needs to happen in the home, at church, or at a private school. Our public schools are just that, public, and thus should be kept free of any hint of “established” religion.

Having said that, I also think that, at present, our schools have gone too far in trying to avoid “establishment,” to the point of often “prohibiting the free exercise thereof.” In the government’s search for providing balance between different faiths, people of Christian sensibilities have actually felt persecuted in recent years. As great efforts have been made to honor the traditions of minority religions – Judaism, Islam, Hinduism, etc., sometimes the Christian voice has been silenced. Admittedly, this is rare.

I live in a county where City Council meetings at the various municipalities still begin with prayer, usually in Jesus’ name. Our school board still offers prayers at major functions. The law provides for a separation, but in practice the law gives way to community traditions and rituals of the majority. I do wonder sometimes how my Jewish brothers and sisters feel about that. What is it like to be the minority?

I believe that the earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof. But nothing in my faith tells me that I can force anyone else to so believe. History is full of terrible stories of the Church gaining power and forcing its will on society. Therein lies the danger of the failure to separate church and state. The Church cannot be trusted with power. Neither can anyone else. Much better for the Church to act as a prophet to call attention to the abuse of power, than to wield the power itself.

Ah, well, that’s enough for now. I invite your feedback.

Messy Spirituality

A recent common theme in some of my readings and conversations is the difficulty of living a spiritual life that is based on a theology of competence. In simple words, being Christian is hard if it's all about measuring up. It is easy to see where this kind of spirituality comes from. As children we are expected to measure up to our parent's expectations until the day when we are out on our own, supposedly independent or autonomous creatures. The trouble is, many of us never quite mature beyond that perceived need to measure up. But if Mom and Dad are no longer around in a routine way to "set the bar," then our yardstick is unreliable, fluctuating.

We may, instead, let other authority figures set the bar - a teacher, or an entire educational system; a boss, or a spouse, or . . . well, you get the picture. A spirituality based on competence - measuring up - becomes frustrating and even debilitating because the yardstick may fluctuate so much that we are never sure if we're hitting the mark. We may find ourselves constantly comparing our behavior to those around us, "Oh, I'm better than her, but not as good as him," and that continuous comparison is also a recipe for frustration and failure (incompetence).

Paul, the apostle, introduces us to a spirituality that is not about competence at all. He writes, "all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God." He describes our tendency to "miss the mark." Spirituality for Paul is about recognizing our own weaknesses but trusting that God loves us anyway, that God can even use our weakness to accomplish something that fits with God's good plans for creation. Paul even brags about his own failures, and boast of carrying around a treasure in a clay jar (easily cracked).

What I have found is that most of us are so captivated by a spirituality of competence that we can't believe that God could love us unless we have proven ourselves. But proving ourselves is a losing game. Even if we are the best at something - singing, mathematics, strength, prayer, sales, etc., someday we will hit our limit, our abilities will decline, there will always be someone who will bypass us in competency. We will all experience what it feels like to not measure up.

I remind myself often that before Jesus had told a parable or performed a miracle God spoke to him at his baptism and said, "You are my Son, whom I love, with you I am well pleased." In Christian spirituality there is no bar. All we're asked to do is to trust we are loved, and then to follow in the way of Jesus. A way in which we are assured there will be pain and sacrifice (don't forget the cross!). In a worldly sense, Jesus failed to measure up, so the world put him to death.

This kind of spirituality is messy. It is not based on competence but on grace. God bestows unmerited favor on us. And we in turn bestow unmerited favor on others. And the world, which doesn't trust a spirituality that is not based on competence will look on us with suspicion - "This can't be right," they say. "Aren't you supposed to do something?"

Well, of course. The doing is in the following in this way of the cross, which is messy, isn't it? I can't claim any competence in spiritual matters. I teach the importance of prayer but I'm not very competent at it. I preach a sacrificial life but I'm not the best role model by any means. I feel bad about that. Not filled with warm, fuzzy spiritual thoughts. But I love Jesus. And I love it that he loves me. And as incompetent as I am, I want to be like him. So I keep at it. It's messy. But I think that means its real.

Torn-to-pieces-hood

I’ve been reading a book on spirituality unlike many other books on the subject. This spirituality arises out of the real-life experiences of alcoholics and their discovery of a way to live a sober life through the vehicle of Alcoholics Anonymous (AA). There is a ring of truth in many of the authors’ insights, but the one I’ve been thinking about is the notion of “torn-to-pieces-hood,” William James translation of the German word, zerrissenheit.

There is a recognition by all who participate in AA that each and every one is “torn to pieces,” and that perhaps the best thing we have to offer each other is our own story of “torn-to-pieces-hood.” To translate that language through the filter of Christian theology I would say, “all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.” But the words “sin,” and “God” carry so much baggage for some people, including Christians, that “torn-to-pieces-hood,” may be a good substitute which gets at the complexities of our human condition.

You don’t have to be an alcoholic to be torn to pieces. Maybe all of us have felt like Humpty-Dumpty, having “fallen short” and unable to put the pieces together again. The amazing thing is that there are those who have seen their lives fall apart either by their own choices or by external circumstances but have, seemingly miraculously, managed to get their lives back together again; scarred perhaps, but moving on. When we see their lives and hear their stories we experience something like hope, and develop something like faith – to believe that there might be enough grace in the world for our own torn-to-pieces-hood.

In a world where people tear each other to pieces, we all need a community where we hear stories of hope, and where we might discover a faith that will enable us to believe that a mended life, or an amended life, is possible. I think the church provides that opportunity for us. Even though many of us spend a lot of time in church pretending that everything in our lives is okay, there are opportunities within the life of the church to get beneath the façade; small groups of fellow spiritual pilgrims where pain may be bared, hospital visits where our mortality must be faced, worship experiences where the Word of God pierces to the heart.

I encourage you to find people with whom you can confess your own “torn-to-pieces-hood,” and to listen to stories of others who have, though scarred, managed to find their way. There is hope and grace enough for each one of us.

If interested in reading more on this subject, you may want to check out the following book by Ernest Kurtz and Katherine Ketcham, The Spirituality of Imperfection: Storytelling and the Search for Meaning.

Some of you may wonder how a preacher, schooled in the Wesleyan theology of “perfecting grace,” could recommend a book entitled, The Spirituality of Imperfection. However, I am always quick to point out that what John Wesley meant by perfection is not the same thing we mean. Wesley did not mean we would be free of mistakes or failures. He simply believed that God’s grace was so great that it might be possible for that grace to be present in a person’s life, at least in their intentions.

I admit that my recent reading of Kurtz and Ketcham has made me question Wesley’s optimism. Nevertheless, I remind myself that Wesley’s optimism was not the result of confidence in human potential, but rather hope in God’s grace. Thus, in our torn-to-pieces-hood, it is not we who put ourselves back together, but God. And God, or in AA-speak, our Higher Power, usually puts us back together through the loving imperfections of others and their stories of recovery.

I can live with that. Indeed, I have lived with that for many decades now. That’s enough for this torn-to-pieces-but-patched-up preacher.