my recent reading list

A Short History of Myth, by Karen Armstrong
I read this already. It's accessible (perhaps even more so than her other books, due, if nothing else, to the length -- it is short and concise and informative). It's contents resound harmonically with what I wrote about in my "follow up (part two)" post. I recommend it especially for people interested in stories of origin, sacred stories/parables, history, art and literature. I recommend it for anyone who is a story teller; whether a parent who story tells to a child at bedtime, or a preacher who story tells from the pulpit.

When Religion Becomes Evil, by Charles Kimball
I'm bouncing toward the finish as I turn the pages of the final chapter. Almost literally bouncing, it's been such an exciting read for me. I was caught by the title while browsing the library shelves, because I have this thing: I value religion. As one who values religion I am sensitive to the instances in life when religion is discarded. The title of Kimball's book struck me in such a way that I assumed its contents to be in keeping with such a message -- religion is a fertile breeding ground for malevolent conduct, therefore be rid of it. On the contrary however, Kimball writes out of his vast experience in the realm of religious study and practice, indeed about when religion becomes evil, when it is manifested in corrupt form (and we'd do well to heed the reality of such forms of religion). But he approaches the topic with a hopeful, rather than cynical, bent suggesting that an authentic understanding of religion, an accurate examination of the heart of the major religious traditions, is both helpful and necessary in our globalizing world today. What I appreciate most about this book is Kimball's tone, which is gentle, fair, and compelling.

The World's Religions, by Huston Smith
(Sort of, it's the illustrated version, abridged a bit.) I haven't begun yet. As I continue to read in this field I intend to offer some posts that might help with the process of what I mentioned above: pursuing an authentic understanding and accurate examination of the diverse religious traditions worldwide (and, like it or not, next door).

It is not necessary for us to agree with our neighbors or to have the same experience as our neighbors. What is important is that we put forth an honest effort at understanding our neighbors, this is the first step toward loving them well. In order to understand our neighbors the surest approach would be to live alongside of them -- to eat and work and play and talk with them, to listen to their stories and share our own. Yet one of the obstacles many of us face today is the wall of religious (mis)understanding. We do not know how to (or if we should) entertain relationship with those (individually and often communally) who seem so starkly different from us. The exposure that we get from the media regarding religion is almost exclusively honed in on the corrupt manifestations (religiously motivated violence and conflict and war). Yet there is much more to be gleaned from religion than corruption and misunderstanding.
It requires energy, humility, and, more than anything else, courage to enter into the process of pursuing mutual understanding and reconciling relationships -- whether the table we're sitting at is explicitly religious, or political or ethnic or economical (or as is most often the case some assortment of each of these elements). But it's worth the energy -- because these people are your brothers and sisters. And we don't need to feel threatened by each other -- because each of you have a voice that can not be silenced. And there's nothing to be afraid of -- because diversity is at the heart of the dynamic peace that is God's intention and plan for our world.
Now some of us don't believe in God, some of us think we are gods, most of us who do believe in God don't agree on God. My point isn't to suggest one scheme of divinity over another. What I'm pointing at is the possibility beyond the plight that is far more evident and proximate than any of us are comforatable with. That possibility of peace (whole peace, shalom and shanti peace) will require everything: more than our honest efforts alone, and more than our fervent prayers alone, and more than our deepest hope and strongest faith alone. It requires everything of us and everything of everything.

hermeneutics in a different discipline

I'm not particularly savvy when it comes to political matters. So I don't mean to open up a discussion that I'm not personally able to engage in. However, I sensed some similarities in a brief article I read about interpretive theory as it pertains to the USA's constitution (http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=105439966&ft=1&f=1001), and the art of interpretation (hermeneutics) as it pertains to sacred scriptures.. in my experience specifically: the Hebrew Bible and the Christian New Testament.
I feel strongly that there is a lot of value in considering any authoritative document as a living thing, not static or fixed, but adaptable, active, and alive. This is a tradition of thought that I was exposed to early in my education regarding the Bible, through passages that actually came from the Bible (such as 2 Timothy 3.16 that compares sacred scripture to the breathing of God or the wind that God blows into our lives to propel us along the good route of living right) and from the influences of my teachers and mentors who read scripture and applied it (adapted it to relate) to personal matters, things that mattered to them or me or us.
As a dear friend of mine pointed out during a recent stint of camping and exploring amongst the elements of the natural world: while much around us seems to be fixed and established and still from our perspective (such as the ground we walk and sleep on, the rocks we lean against, the words we read) they are actually in perpetual motion. A sort of momentum or current carries them along, with us, in a frightening-comforting cosmic chaotic divine dance.

follow up (part two)

I want to offer a revision to one of my recent posts. In "VI. Jesus" I said that I don't believe in the ascension of Jesus. That's not entirely true, and I apologize for the misleading that such a statement could cause.
It's a fact that I don't believe that the historical Jesus actually levitated into the sky and broke through the stratosphere en route to the heavenly corner of outer space.
But I do believe that the Bible's story (referenced in Mark 16, Luke 24, and Acts 1) about the ascension of Jesus is true.
To say that something is true is more than (not less than) saying that something happened.

The story of Jesus' ascent expresses his "new level of spiritual attainment", his "transcendence and liberation from the constraints of the human condition", and his always-presence in our explorations of what it means to become fully human, fully alive, eternally alive. (quoted words borrowed from Karen Armstrong, the italics are my addition)
I am compelled and encouraged by this story that I believe tells the truth.

This sort of approach raises questions for some people.

For instance, "If you do away with the story of the ascension [or in a lot of similar conversations the story at hand is that of creation as contained in both Genesis 1 and 2, but the point is...] what's to keep you from doing away with Jesus' resurrection? or miraculous birth? or his divinity? or the sending of the Holy Spirit? or the promise of heaven after life as we know it has come to an end?"

In response I ask that it be considered once again whether such an approach does indeed do away with the story? Does the truth contained in the story require that each event happened in a literal fashion? If your answer is "yes" then please hold to that truth, hold to it in the fashion that your heart and conscience necessitates. And if mine is "no" please understand that you and I have a hold of the same truth, though our grip may differ.

Another question is, "Who are you [insert my name, or someone else perhaps] to decide what is to be taken literally and what isn't?

Indeed, point well made, I completely agree and readily refrain (and hope that anyone else would do the same) from assuming such authority.
The task of seeking understanding and direction from one's sacred scriptures belongs to the community that holds those scriptures as authoritative. That community must use both scholarship and common sense, must heed the voices of academic experts, qualified clerical leaders, and committed believers. It is also the responsibility of the community to corporately heed the voices of those who are often marginalized and silenced.

Only as part of such an ongoing conversation will scripture become alive with its full potential to guide in the way of love and truth. Only then will it silence the chatter of the minority that uses religion as a justification for violence, and the babble of those who sell certainty as a synonym for faith. Only then will it equip and enable its followers to live in a manner corresponding with the hope available in its words.

follow up (part one)

I have finished my project of episodic posts pertaining to myself and the Christian paradigm(s). Chipping away at a theology of sorts, by no means managing (or trying) to find the final word on theology's subject, who is mystery beyond all else, and who does more crafting on us than we on her or him.
I've had the opportunity to dialogue with some of my readers who have felt confused, and some who have felt concerned, by portions of some of the posts. And that's ok, some confusion is to be expected, partly because this stuff goes deep in us, but also because my chisel here is language. Not facial expression or vocal inflection. Not situational or direct relational context. Just English words wrapped around images and ideas.
I enjoy language, all it's nuances and capabilities -- it's un/subtle tools that enable us to communicate with one another -- yet I also have a lot of respect for the limits of language. The ways it allows for and contributes to mis-communication.
The ideas I've shared lack context for many of my readers. They lack the history in which they've developed -- both outside of me (by way of books, classes, trips, conversations, poems, prayers, sermons, speeches, interviews, and essays) and inside of me (the pace at which these ideas have come to me, or I to them, personally). The full story of my experiences with these sources of influence and their place in my life isn't something that I can recount completely. And since the story of where I've been is incomplete, so to is the communication of where I am.

I would like to offer a clarification nonetheless -- again, not for the sake of agreement or consensus, or even for the sake of understanding in and of itself. But for the process of trying, and simply because I'm having a great time writing.
My clarification has two parts: (part one) some back ground thought, a canvas, and (part two) a revision to one of my posts...

(part one)

To believe that a thing is true does not necessitate a corresponding belief in the literal, actual, historical occurrence of the thing.

That truth requires something to be verified as historical or believed in as literal is a relatively young concept, and by no means universally practiced. It's sort of the brain child of the age of enlightenment and the era of modernity. A result of the incestuous coupling of scientific method with religious or existential concerns.

To apply scientific methodology to our endeavors in biological or psychological study is entirely appropriate and yields good and informative fruit. To apply it to historical and archaeological study, to ecology and neurology, to chemistry and physics is good.
Our use of observation, forethought, and reason is as old as our earliest inventions. Our first tools and the discipline of agriculture resulted from these qualities, so have moon landings and photographs and our ability to purify water.

To address things of a religious, moral, or relational nature with the methods of science, however, is not helpful in the end -- square hole, triangle block -- it doesn't fit.

Both are about life. About what's around us and what comes at us through our senses. And sometimes about what's beyond us, which can't be directly sensed. Both are about happenings.
"Why did that happen?" -- Science wonders what sorts of causes led up to a certain event.
"Why did that happen?" -- Religion wonders what purpose there is, or can be found, in a certain event.
"How did we get here and where are we going?" -- Science assumes that the ball is already rolling, that we can measure the ball, we can decipher where it has rolled from by examining the trail it has left, and we can predict how and where it will continue to roll depending on various influential factors.
"How did we get here and where are we going?" -- Religion also assumes that something or someone got the ball rolling, and it crafts, compiles, and sustains narratives and rituals that help us to cope with and celebrate the rolling of the ball.

We could try to do away with science, but we'd be cutting out an important innovative and inventive portion of our nature as humans.
We could try to do away with religion, but we'd be severing ourselves (if not personally then collectively) from a part of us that is thoughtful, feeling, and imaginative.

These two are not at odds within us, neither do they need to be at odds externally. Rather than going to the extreme of ridding ourselves completely of one of these important elements in the human story, or trying to marry two things that are not meant to be married (though they make great friends), we'd do well to commit our energies to a couple of other tasks.
One: being rid of the corrupt forms of religious expression that manifest themselves either ridiculously (best case scenario) or violently (worst case scenario).
Two: refraining from the contemporary compulsion to deify our rational abilities at the cost of sacrificing our emotional abilities, which has the potential to (best case scenario) lead to a biting skepticism and (worst case scenario) create a context for... you guessed it, violence.

VI. Jesus

My trail mates and I have returned from the Paria Canyon. Her curves were intoxicating, aquatic and feminine. Her touch luminous and chilling. Her presence was a grip and it calmed the core with soothing tones. I feel great.
And now it's time again for some of my ink to spill into the internet, the web, that unknown expanse of nothingness that somehow holds all of these words and interactions we have.

Jesus of Nazareth.
A miracle baby with a big story: the carpenter turned rabbi, the rabbi turned revolutionary, the revolutionary turned religious icon.
I wonder at times if, as a religious icon, Jesus wishes he might have avoided that last stage of his evolution and remained a revolutionary? Inspiring change and rebuking indifference in the lives and hearts of the men and women who gathered around him.
I wonder, in his revolutionary days, if Jesus may have thought fondly back on the simplicity of his teaching days? A rabbi telling stories and offering anecdotes pertaining to matters of living in a harsh and humorous world.
And as a rabbi might Jesus have reminisced about his father's workshop? Where with his hands busy and tongue still he experienced the luxury of practicing a craft.

It's no wonder Jesus often withdrew to lonely places. We have overwhelmed him with our demands: "Teach us." "Inspire us." "Save us."

What is a wonder is that Jesus comes around any more at all, that Jesus ever returned from the lonely places. He must have loved doing what he did: incarnating love, befriending the friendless, touching the untouchables, partying with the partiers; amongst other things.
I believe in Jesus' resurrection, but not his ascension. I don't think heaven is a place in the sky that Jesus could or would have ascended to. I don't like the idea of a satellite Jesus, an outer space Jesus, a Jesus in orbit.
I like the idea of a shekinah Jesus, a Jesus who wandered off in the midst of the scandal of his return from the dead, and who has been amongst us in one way and another ever since. Yes in spirit as a teacher and revolutionary and religious icon. But with his body as well. Biting his tongue and using his hands and still making friends, loving humanity, loving life.