Arguments I Don't Hear Much Part 2

The gospel lesson this morning reminded me that I had not yet written this post. To refresh your brains, part 1 was the political argument. This part is the biblical/religious argument.

So, one of the major critiques often launched against "liberal" positions on homosexuality within the church is that those who hold such opinions are antinomian (aka anti-law). Because Leviticus and Romans and yadda yadda yadda all clearly state this is wrong, so if you want to say it's not wrong you clearly just want to torch the Bible and dance on its grave. Or (less dramatically, and perhaps more nerve-wracking) you're setting up your own arbitrary criteria for what we follow and what we don't, and (this is the real concern) where will it stop? If you're wiling to "pitch" some parts of the Bible, whats to stop you from pitching the whole thing?

This is a very "brick wall" mentality regarding the Bible - every "brick" (verse) has equal size, weight, and value, and is rock solid, not flexible at all - and the fear is if you punch out enough bricks you compromise the integrity and stability of the whole structure.

A lot of people have this understanding of the Bible. But it's not the only way to think about it. A contrasting image is that of a trampoline, and thinking of the verses as the springs that hold it together. You can take a few springs out of a trampoline and it will still function, but more importantly, springs have give, they are flexible.

(we interrupt this post to give props to Rob Bell's Velvet Elvis, because that's who I'm stealing these images from - if you haven't read this book yet, you should)

Now before anybody gets all "You're pulling springs out of the trampoline? That's antinomian!" on me, please let me clarify that I'm NOT pulling springs out of the trampoline, and I'm not advocating that anybody else should either. I AM advocating that we should all be thinking of Bible verses as more like springs and less like bricks.

And I advocate that in part because that's kind of what we'd been doing for centuries. The law has never been so black and white, so cut and dried, as some folks like to make it out to be. You'd think something like "Thou shalt not steal" would be, but there are volumes of rabbinic debates and commentary as to when this law is bound and when this law is loosed.

Let me explain: let's say you are walking along and you spot a $100 bill on the ground. If you pick it up, is that stealing? It depends, say the rabbis. If you just pick it up and put it in your pocket without making any effort to look around and seek out who may have dropped it, then the law is bound, and yes, you are stealing from your neighbor. But if you make every good faith effort to return the money to its rightful owner and cannot find them no matter how hard you try, then the law is loosed, you may keep the money and you are not breaking the commandment.

This is a broad generalization of the kinds of reflection and rabbinic debate that would happen all the time. In reality it would go much deeper and in greater detail, but hopefully with this small example you get the picture.

Jesus himself was steeped in this tradition. In fact, we see him engaging in it in Matthew 12 when the Pharisees come after him and the disciples for plucking grain (aka doing work) on the Sabbath, a clear violation of their cut and dried understanding of the third commandment, to remember the Sabbath and keep it holy. Jesus counters with arguments as to why the law in this case should be loosed, and like a good case lawyer, he even cites historical precedent (King David, no less).

(we interrupt this post once again to give props to Mark Allan Powell's How Lutherans Interpret the Bible, because that's who I'm stealing these examples from - if you haven't yet watched this DVD series, you should)

Ok, so what does all this have to do with arguments you don't hear much and the gospel from this morning?

Namely this: in this morning's gospel, Jesus gives the church the power to bind and to loose. My Catholic brothers and sisters interpret this passage as giving only Peter and Peter's successors (aka the Popes) this authority, but we Protestants interpret it more broadly as the body of Christ, the church, having this power.

And we've used it. Repeatedly. I love ham and pork and bacon, others love shrimp and lobster, and we all eat these things freely because collectively the body of Christ decided to loose the Levitical kosher laws. The laws (which are pretty clear cut) are still sitting there in the Bible, no one has thrown those springs out, no one is "against" them, but we have decided they've got give and they are no longer binding upon the community. Similarly, I am a woman who is ordained and regularly speaks in worship, because the part of the body of Christ that is the ELCA collectively decided to loose the "law" in the Pauline letters that forbids women from speaking in church (though I am cognizant that several other members of the body have declared this law is still bound).

To me, it makes logical sense to extend this power to bind and to loose the law to the passages forbidding homosexuality. And to me, that is essentially what certain members of the body (the ELCA among them) have done, declared collectively (if rather contentiously) that these laws are indeed loosed. They are still sitting there, right next to the kosher laws in some instances, we have not thrown them out, but we have decided they are no longer binding.

I don't think that's being antinomian. I also don't think it's such a bad argument. My question is: why do I feel like I'm the only one I ever hear making it? In all the debates I heard leading up to the Churchwide Assembly in 2009, in all the debates I heard on the floor of the 2009 CWA (I volunteered as a page), in all the continued fighting and controversy in the wake of those decisions (in which many who have been leaving have gifted us with parting jabs about abandoning the Bible), I don't recall hearing anybody make this case. And I can't help but wonder why.

It's The End of the World As We Know It But I Feel Fine

This post is a week overdue - I was having too much fun the day of the supposed rapture to comment upon it. Which is actually the first thing I'd want to say about the supposed rapture, anyway. When it comes to the end of the world, I hold with my brother and forefather in faith, Martin Luther, who once said that if he knew the world was ending tomorrow, he'd go out and plant a tree today. I spent last Saturday enjoying a full "tree-planting" kind of day with my best friends and the bambino, so had the world actually come to an end Saturday night, I would have had no regrets.

But as it was, I had neither fear, nor joy, nor thought that the world was actually going to come to an end on Saturday. Now, don't get me wrong- as a practicing Christian, I confess weekly the belief that Christ will come again. But as a practicing Christian, I also have no pretense of understanding what that's going to look like or when it's going to happen. Jesus wasn't really the Messiah anybody expected back in his own day, so I have no reason to believe he's going to return in any form or manner that I might anticipate today. Better to forgo my own expectations and just pray for the wisdom to recognize him when he comes (including but not limited to his presence in the Other right this very minute).

The one thing I have a pretty strong hunch about is that when he comes again, he'll be coming down to us, to be with us. I mean, that was his M.O. the first time, and the Bible from start to finish is pretty consistent about God's passion for the whole of creation (not just humanity). What I'm trying to say is, despite what many have turned it into, Christianity is not a religion of escapism. It's not all about me and Jesus and my personal salvation, and it's not all about Jesus whisking all the Christians away to safety before the biggest proverbial pile hits the fan. Those are corruptions of a faith that from its beginning was thoroughly incarnational and communal, a faith that is about deep abiding in and with the neighbor and the world.

Which leads me to the second thing I'd want to say about the supposed rapture: that there isn't any. It's not biblical. It's certainly not in the book of Revelation. It is at best a twisted interpretation of a verse from 1 Thessalonians.

This bears repeating, so let me say it once again: there is no rapture in the book of Revelation. You don't have to take my word for it - read the book for yourself. Revelation is a letter, to seven churches in Asia Minor. Seven churches existing in radically different circumstances - running the gamut from being persecuted for their faith to being on easy street and completely lax in their faith practices. This one letter is attempting to address seven churches in all these varying contexts at the same time. It's looking to simultaneously afflict the comfortable and comfort the afflicted. At the very end of the letter (towards the goal of comforting the afflicted) it speaks of a new heaven and a new earth coming down. But nowhere within Revelation is there any talk of a rapture, period, let alone one that is taking people up up and away.

So where do the Millenialists (folks enraptured with the rapture - not to be confused with the generation known as the millenials!) get this idea from? 1 Thessalonians 4:17, "Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up in the clouds together with them to meet the Lord in the air; and so we will be with the Lord forever." The wider context of this verse is:

But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers and sisters, about those who have died, so that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have died. For this we declare to you by the word of the Lord, that we who are alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will by no means precede those who have died. For the Lord himself, with a cry of command, with the archangel's call and with the sound of God's trumpet, will descend from heaven and the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up in the clouds together with them to meet the Lord in the air; and so we will be with the Lord forever. Therefore encourage one another with these words. (1 Thessalonians 4:13-18; Translation: New Revised Standard Version).

A couple things to note:

1. Paul says to encourage one another with these words, not scare the crap out of each other with these words, and not hold yourself holier than all others with these words. This is pastoral theology addressed to those who are wondering "What's going to happen to all who have died before Jesus comes again? And what's going to happen to me if I happen to be alive when Jesus comes again?" - it's meant to be a comforting and hopeful vision of what that might look like.

2. Paul is pretty clear that the dead will be raised first, and then God will deal with the living. This means that there is no rapture, no living people spontaneously getting whisked off to some heavenly safehouse to get front row seats to the immanent demise of the world. Even if you want to be incredibly generous in entertaining this as a possible interpretation of verse 17, the surrounding context makes it pretty clear that the zombie apocalypse will precede any rapturing of living people, and the verses immediately following (in the beginning chapter 5, which I did not quote above) are equally clear that no one will know, expect, or anticipate any of this ahead of time.

But, because prooftexting is one of America's favorite pastimes, Millenialists grab vs. 17 out its own context, put their own twisted spin on it (much easier to do out of context) and then tack it on to all the weird scary junk in Revelation [and only the weird scary junk, they conveniently ignore all the beautiful visions in Revelation of what it's like to be in the presence of God - I'm particularly fond of those parts because there's a lot of singing involved ;) ] To this abomination they also add some equally twisted selectively chosen verses from the book of Daniel and then huff and puff about knowing both the what and the when of the end of the world.

And because, as Mark Twain once said, "a lie can travel halfway around the world while the truth is putting on its shoes," way too many people are buying the selectively literalist highly proof-texted junk the Millenialists are selling.

As I've tried to point out here, just reading the Bible itself should be enough to debunk them. But if anyone would like to further equip themselves to take on the rapture, I recommend the following two books:

Revelation and the End of All Things by Craig Koester

The Rapture Exposed: The Message of Hope in the Book of Revelation by Barbara Rossing

Now I'm off to plant more trees. . .

The Absurdity of Jesus

Luther Sem's very own Matt Skinner has an article on the Huffington Post, speaking of the absurd, Jesus, and the parables.

Random Thoughts On Meaning and Truth

Some half-baked thoughts and vignettes sort of inspired by or related to David Lose's Making Sense of Scripture, which I've been reading of late. Just want to get them down before I lose track of what I was thinking.

First, something I learned, an answer to a pondering I had a while back, about why the Chronicler sanitized the Isrealite history: the Chronicler was from the southern kingdom of Judah - David was a homeboy, and the sordid exploits of he and his house were embarrassing, so they tried to clean it up a bit. Those who wrote the Samuels and Kings were from the northern kingdom of Israel, so it was no skin off their nose to emphasize the dysfunction of David's house.

Second, another thing I probably knew once but had forgotten and was reminded of: the Jewish scriptural canon was still being formed in the days of Jesus, and the prophets were among the scrolls that were not yet definitively settled upon as to whether or not they were scripture. To me, this makes Jesus' choice of Isaiah as the text for his inaugural sermon (as recorded in the Gospel of Luke) all the more interesting - to go, not to what was commonly agreed upon as the Word of God, but to something that was known but edgy and rather marginal in its status - kind of a bold move, adds another layer of meaning as to what Jesus' ministry would be about (and I think it's equally interesting, and still holds true, if you want to just credit Luke with the selection, instead of Jesus, since not every Gospel witnesses to this sermon).

Third, I was in MN this past week for some continuing education, and was pleasantly surprised to find a special exhibit on the Dead Sea Scrolls at the Science Museum, so this also became part of my week's plans. It looked like an exhibit that's been touring the country, but the MN installment was altered because of a local scholar who disagrees with the conclusions as originally presented in the exhibit. The jist of the debate: many scholars believe the Dead Sea Scrolls are the product of the Essene community at nearby Qumran. However, other scholars believe it would be impossible for the Qumran community to produce such a vast number of scrolls, instead they contend that when it became evident that Israel would be sacked by the Romans in 70 CE, priests, scribes, and scholars in Jerusalem collected all the scrolls they could find and hid them safely away in the desert.

In any case, because of this local scholar's vociferous opposition to the exhibit's original presentation, this particular installment presents both sides - which I think makes the exhibit overall even stronger. Especially in these days when so many people of all persuasions want to put a lock on Truth, I think it's healthy for the public to go to an exhibit - at a science museum, no less (where things are normally presented with such factual certainty) and be met with two different interpretations, both thoroughly argued based on the "factual" evidence at hand, and be asked to consider the matter for themselves instead of being told what to think. I love that in the middle of the exhibit they have a "read more about it" area with a bunch of books on the subject and comfy chairs in which to sit and read them (and the day I was there, a number of people were doing exactly that). I think it's fantastic that the whole exhibit begins with a clay pot in a glass case that asks "What is the meaning of this?" and goes on to explain that on it's own, it doesn't mean much of anything, it requires a context to achieve meaning, and while science can tell us more about that context and what the thing itself is (when it was made, what it was made of, etc), faith and culture are ultimately what infuse the thing with meaning for us today. Just struck a lot of resonant chords with what Dr. Lose contends, that the Bible on its own, on a shelf, doesn't mean much at all, but it's the context (both original and modern) and what it does in our lives that gives it meaning and authority.

Before I move on to 4, just a couple of logistical notes in case anyone reading this is considering going to the exhibit: you should absolutely go (for the exhibit itself AND because the last part of the exhibit - perhaps also a special Minnesota addendum? - are gorgeous pages from the St. John's Illuminated Bible), but be aware it will take you a while to get through it. I read pretty much everything and listened to and watched almost everything and it took me 2.25 hours to get through it all. Other friends who went had spent 2.5 hours before they had to leave for their Omnitheater tickets, and they hadn't quite seen everything. And, other word to the wise - it's a little pricey because you have to pay for admission to both the special exhibit and the museum as a whole (Omnitheater is optional, though that's not immediately evident - if you don't want to see the film, which is not on the scrolls but on Arabia in general, be sure to tell them that, or the price will be even higher). So, since you've paid for the privilege, and as long as you're right there, don't forget to run up and down the musical steps a few times! They are the best part of the whole museum! :)

Ok, finally, fourth: today flying back to PA, I wasn't seated next to the raging extrovert, but there were two seated behind me, and of course, I couldn't help but overhear parts of their conversation. At one point they were discussing books and movies, and this guy started describing the movie Seven Pounds, which happens to be a favorite of mine. The thing was - he was butchering the plot. At first he was just adding inaccurate details (like Will Smith's character being a doctor, when he's an aeronautics engineer; or that he and his wife had children, which they did not), but I thought maybe he just has a bad memory for details like that. But then as I heard him describe further, I realized he completely misunderstood significant parts of the movie. I was tempted to turn around and correct him, but I didn't want to be the annoying know-it-all stranger interrupting their conversation. So instead I just made a note of it on the back of my boarding pass and decided to blog about it here. :)

Now, I will admit Seven Pounds is a bit confusing, especially in the beginning - it's kind of cryptic and poetically rendered, not unlike the Gospel of John. But based on his description, this guy seriously didn't get a good chunk of what was going on, even after watching the whole thing. And that just got me thinking even more about meaning-making and interpretation and truth/Truth, and I felt like it kind of resonated with Dr. Lose's discussion in chapter 3 about event, significance, and medium. As in, watching the movie was the event, and now on the plane he was using the medium of speech to relay the significance. But to my mind, he had the significance all messed up because he hadn't fully understood the event. Which begs a number of questions, including: how fully did the Gospel writers, say, understand the event of Christ? And how fully do we understand the event of God/Christ/the Bible in our lives? And how can anybody, any institution, any ideology, try to put a lock on Truth given that we may have misunderstood the event of Christ (in his own day and/or in ours) as thoroughly as this guy misunderstood the plot of Seven Pounds? All of which is not to say that we should never make any truth claims because we can never be absolutely certain of their truth. Instead, I think we just need to realize that any truth claims we do make are a matter of confession.

That's enough for tonight. Thanks for anybody who's still with me - can't say I didn't warn you these were half-baked. :)

The Audience of One

So yesterday I went to see Year One, and I was the only one in the theater! Granted, this was late Monday afternoon in Selinsgrove, PA, for a movie that's been in wide release for several weeks. But still, I don't think that's ever happened to me before - it was kind of weird, and made me wonder if, had I not been there and purchased a ticket, they would have run the movie to an empty theater anyway, or saved themselves the electricity.

But I digress. . .I knew going in it was supposed to be a crude humor comedy, so I wasn't looking for anything deep, just 90 minutes of mindless chuckles. Unfortunately, I didn't find it to be a particularly amusing or shining example of its genre. It was mostly Jack Black and Michael Cera doing their respective 21st century schticks in a variety of 1st century-esque garb; the majority of the jokes were blown in the previews I had already seen, in fact, the funniest part (to me) was Cain's great escape, which took maybe all of 60 seconds. And there were inexplicable gaping holes in the plot (like a scene where Michael Cera's character is being strangled to death by a large snake, that cuts to Jack Black and Michael Cera back in the village, no harm, no foul, no explanation of how they got away from the snake).

To Harold Ramis' credit, there was some witty dialogue here and there, playing off of sayings or events in the Bible (the whole movie is playing fast and loose with various parts of - and midrashic commentary upon - the first 22 chapters of Genesis). I got that and appreciated it. . .but then later I got to thinking (another unfortunate thing - can't shut my brain down for too long, even when I'm trying): given the general state of Biblical illiteracy in this country, how many people in an average audience would have picked up on those references? In fact, I'm kind of wondering how many people in an average audience would even realize he's using the Bible for source material?

Forbidden fruit, Adam, Cain and Abel, Abraham and Isaac, Sodom and Gomorrah - these are all stories that one would think even the most unchurched of people would be vaguely familiar with. But it's a post-modern, post-Christendom world out there; as a pastor, I can't make any assumptions about the Biblical literacy of the folks sitting in the pews every Sunday, let alone the folks who've never (or rarely) darkened the door of a church, synagogue, or mosque.

Which begs the question: if you don't know the source material the comedian is riffing on - is the joke still funny or relevant? Similarly for the preacher - does the sermon still bear or make meaning, and bring the Word to those who don't know the word?

Observations on the B-I-B-L-E

For the past year or so, I've been trying to spend time reading the Bible without an agenda. That is, reading stuff that I'm not preparing to preach or teach a lesson on, but can just sit and dwell with and enjoy and pay attention to in a totally different way. It's just 15 minutes a day - that way if it's a really sloggy passage, my eyes don't glaze over because I know I only have to face so much of it at a time. Conversely, if it's a really engrossing passage, I don't throw my whole day's schedule off because I just couldn't put the Bible down.

A few things I've noticed as a result of this practice: I pay attention a lot differently reading this way, making myself an open book to the open book; I feel my overall Biblical knowledge (and my ability to find specific stories or verses without the aid of a reference tool) has improved; this may sound cheesy, but I actually feel better starting my day out this way (I usually try to read while I'm eating breakfast).

But I digress - this summer I've been working my way through the Deuteronomistic Histories - I'm up to 2 Chronicles. And I know I've read through this before, both in college and in seminary, but it never occurred to me until this past week how differently the same history is presented in 1 Samuel-2 Kings compared to 1-2 Chronicles. The Chronicles read more like the Wall Street Journal, with lots of genealogies and lists, things you might otherwise call "just the facts." There are some stories tucked in there, but conspicuously absent is all the glorious dysfunction of the house of David: no shenanigans with Bathsheba, no incestuous treachery by Amnon, no rebellion of Absalom, no siblings squabbling over the succession of the throne. David does get in serious trouble with the Lord, but it's over an improperly taken census (which seems like an awfully silly thing to provoke God's wrath), not the premeditated abandonment of Uriah on the battlefield (definitely schmucky enough to provoke God's wrath). I've got to say, 1 Samuel-2 Kings is starting to feel like a saucy tabloid next to the dry, "factual," rather sanitized Chronicles.

In any case, it's got me thinking about the (most likely) guy who wrote the Chronicles - why did he leave all that stuff out? What was he afraid of? That it would make the royal family look bad? That it would distract from the "real" or "important" things they did, or somehow detract from the glory of God? Kind of funny when you consider most of the Bible is full of the stories of the screw-ups that God called and used for God's purposes. Our having feet made of clay is kind of the point - actually gives greater glory to God for finding a way to work with us in spite of ourselves.

But the fastidious Chronicles inclusion in the Bible, and their location right next to the randy Samuels and Kings, is also a good reminder - that the Bible, the world, and even God, is big enough to hold all kinds. No one's story (nor chosen manner of relating it) is invalidated or unwelcome. Now if only we clay-footers lived that out as well as the good book does. . .

Peace,
C.

PS - What was with that big hairy deal over the prayer of Jabez a few years ago? It's like, one verse that shows up, very randomly, in the middle of a genealogy! Talk about making a mountain out of a molehill.