born again and always growing

A friend of mine sent me an email the other day after reading some of my posts and posed a question: What do you believe about being born-again?

For some of my readers that question makes a lot of sense, because "being born-again" is central to your identity and a key means of articulating your self-understanding. It is a phrase, and perhaps an experience, lifted from Jesus' conversation with Nicodemus (and other biblical points of reference) that contains a whole lot of thrust for you. To be born again is key.

For others of my readers the significance of the question and the force of the phrase "born-again" is not apparent. You've heard certain Christians apply the label to themselves or each other. But it seems vague and rather cliche due to overuse. It's one of those phrases that has stopped meaning what it may have once poetically meant.

I took my friend's question seriously, mostly because I take this particular friend seriously. But also because I appreciated the opportunity to toss back some of my thoughts pertaining to my understanding of the phrase/phenomenon. I touched on my Wesleyan (and western) background and my appreciation for moment(s) of conversion. And I offered my understanding of and appreciation for the eastern Christian concept of theosis as an alternate means of understanding salvation and regeneration.

But really it would have been sufficient for me to have sent my friend a link to this video:

(thanks to the prettiest of human beings for exposure this beautiful bit of media)

pitter-patter

I wrote my final paper last semester on doing theology from an ecological foundation. We tend to do well at remembering that when it comes to God the sky is the limit, but I think more often than not we forget that the earth is our springboard. It is easy to imagine the bearded old man in the sky, the Our Father (who art in heaven), fielding our prayers. It is not as easy to remember that it is Mother earth who props us up and provides the substance for those prayers. It is she who cases our spirits with matter. Mother/Mater pittering our prayers to Pater/Father. The breaths we breathe, the flesh we bear, the relationships that sustain us and give us purpose – she accounts for them all. And while there is no telling whether or not our abstract image of the God out there is accurate, there is plenty of God right here to hold on to.

But hopefully our theology breaks through these simplistic dualisms of spirit and matter, female and male, earth and elsewhere. What if our theology did not thrive on static absolutes that fix God untouchably in the center of our lives? God is not an entity for us to gawk at. What if instead our theology thrived on the dynamism of possibilities? God is not a point of focus or a fixation. God is a blur of activity that occurs always in the peripheral. God happens at the margins of our vision.

I heard recently that the classic translation of Exodus 3:14’s Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh, “I am who I am”, is not the most accurate translation on the market. The translation fits well into a western mentality where the best things are established things, things that are fixed and secured and absolute. But whether or not we westerners like it Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh implies motion and becoming more than it does completion or a conclusive entity. It means something closer to “I will be what I will be” or the even more counterintuitive, “I will be that which I am”. This story of God’s intimate moment with the prophet Moses teaches us that God is something other than fixed reality. God is reality in flux.

A contingency of being open to God as reality in flux is that it requires one to foster a hyper-awareness. I have to be alert and attentive to what is happening around me and within me, and I must do my best to attend to what is happening around and within others (and not just other humans). The comfort of fixing God to an absolute standard of stability (God as unchanging, unmoving, the same yesterday today and forever) is that I can close my eyes to the others around me and neglect the dynamics that swirl within me. I can take comfort in the certainty that even if the world gets tumultuous I will be secure, barnacled to my monolithic God. This metaphor for God – my rock and shelter in the storm – has a profound function. It can be used as devotional assurance in turbulent times. It is especially available to those who are dispossessed – the homeless, the refugee, threatened and abandoned populations.

But it is not an absolute description of reality. There are equally profound metaphors that suggest that God is more akin to the storm itself. God is not primarily a being to latch onto for comfort – especially for we who are already excessively comfortable. God is a forceful occasion to participate in. Contemplation and devotion are not excuses for inaction. We reflect on God in order to engage divine momentum. Our meditation functions to sharpen an intuitive responsiveness to the moment, every moment, wherein God occurs.

urban landscapes by night

urban landscapes by day

my true loves gave to me

This has been a powerful Christmas for me.

I have experienced a togetherness with my multi-tiered family that is fuller than I dared hope. The geographical distances and relational landscapes of family often create a blur of uncertainty that eludes focus and tranquility. Yet this year it's as if an adept photographer (perhaps toting a Panasonic Lumix LX 5, as I will be from here on out) took aim and snapped a shot of the bunch of us laughing and gifting and feasting; singing and playing; remembering and anticipating; expressing our gratitude and holding each other tight.

The careful composition of that image is what I will be carrying with me (tucked in my back pocket next to my new plaid handkerchief) into the year ahead. The way that the light gambols from face to face will be a graphic promise that in times of uncertainty and flux, peace is resoundingly possible.

Perhaps over the next twelve days of Christmas, at some point, you may find a chance to listen in to this sermon preached in anticipation of the advent of one who graced the world with his presence of equanimity in the midst of an often harsh reality; of calm and hope that tends to displace the harshness of the wintry moments in life with the warmth of conscientious connection to one another.

Laurence: at CommonGround, on the Advent

what i'm reading along with everything else i'm reading:

http://neweyeseachyear.wordpress.com/

and you should read it too. it's the sort of writing that touches that secret spot in you. in such a way that you think some combination of 'weird' and 'wow' is going on between you and the writer, or at least you and the text. it makes you curious about whether or not, just maybe, the world isn't out to get you so much as it's out to invite you.

invite you to what? read it, and keep reading it throughout december (*think advent*), and it will probably become clear. maybe not crystal clear. that's not the point. but clear enough to take your next step with confidence.

seminary semester #1

I’ve learned that there has never been a single orthodox Christian theology. There have been dominant imperial theologies and less influential brands of liberation theology. There have been theologies that have engendered violence and theologies that have engendered compassion. There have been theologies that create fear and manifest themselves in frightful ways; there have been theologies that foster mutuality, which take shape in cooperative relationships. But there has never been a conclusive theology, no final articulation of the divine, no one portrayal of God that has any “right” to trump another. Theology is a mess of exerted attempts to calculate and/or incarnate God. It’s a mess of options that render themselves inspired and/or inspirational. It’s a mess that isn’t (and has never been) sorted by one sort of authoritative declaration or another. Church councils have tried, but there’s always someone who eventually pushes back. Empires and nations do their best but don’t manage. Scripture – even if it were agreed upon what’s in and what’s out, what is and what isn’t sacred text – as it turns out is too slick to nail to the door of dogma in any final rendition.

I don’t think this is a problem. Have you ever cleaned out rain gutters? Your fingernails get all grimy. Accomplishing the task requires a certain disregard for cleanliness (as well as an affinity for perching at the edge of dangerous heights). You have to dig in with both hands and scoop out the decomposing mess (and risk a fall) to get the flow back.

That’s what I’ve learned about theology too. Both hands. Risky business.

Some theologians – professional and lay alike – would sooner not process the mess of theology. I’m not sure what motivates them to maintain that God is a tidy subject and that God-talk ought to be a sterile practice. Acknowledging the mess is helpful for me because it frees me from the paranoia that comes with trying to keep clean. Theology isn’t a practice of propriety. It never has been.

A lot of contemporary concepts of God are clogging the outlets of creativity in people’s lives. It's kind of pointless to be dainty with the God-clot when what you’re after is God-flow. Carefully pinching away twigs and soggy leaves won’t cut it. Instead: one handful of the mess after another, freeing the gutter from guarded doctrines that have proven themselves to be obstacles to the vital, fluid, forceful flow of a refreshing God.

And yeah, we'll have to clean it out again later. Theological job security I suppose.

reading: Beyond Monotheism

Naomi Shihab Nye:

Some start out
with a big story
that shrinks.
Some stories accumulate power
like a sky gathering clouds,
quietly, quietly,
till the story rains around you.

Laurel Schneider:
When did the stories of God become a story of totality, of a closed system, of a One? To what corner of human longing does the story of the One belong? As the motors of fundamentalism in all of the religions of One God race on the fuel of battered bodies and broken hearts, the logic of the One chokes on itself like a stone in the mouth. The story of the One denies fleshiness and the stubborn shiftiness of bodies; it cannot abide ambiguities and unfinished business; it cannot speak syllables of earth. But in its failures are openings, for there are always gaps in the story of the One, fissures that widen and crumble at the edges... The story of the One cannot, finally, achieve the still point that it pretends to crave; the very stones cry out.

John Rajchman:
the whole is not given, and things are always starting up again in the middle, falling together in another, looser way... one thus has nothing of the sense of a well-planned itinerary; on the contrary, one is taken on a sort of conceptual trip for which there pre-exists no map.

compassion

moving meaning

Kristin, Keith, Ashley, Jeffrey, and Kari thank you for your help! I turned the paper in last night and I feel great about it. I was delighted with the thoroughness, openness, and depth of your responses. It's an honor to consider each of you a peer and a colleague in this whirly, twirly pursuit of meaning.

I won't bother to confound you with my brilliant analysis of the distinctions and similarities between Structuralist Criticism and Deconstructive Criticism, which more or less comprised the first bits of my paper (let me know if you want a copy and I can email one to you). But I would like to share the conclusion of my paper. Hopefully it will make some sense, even though it's out of context:

It is a dangerous reality that a text, which is considered to be sacred and authoritative by a community, may be used to harm people inside and outside of that community. The selective deafness of a community to particular members, usually the marginalized minorities, will result in a perceived consensus that fails to recognize the concerns of those whose voices are silenced. This is a difficult reality to grapple with. The Christian community has continuously participated in this reality when engaging the biblical text. This is made apparent and contended with by many necessary disciplines, such as Feminist and Post-colonial studies, Queer theory, and Liberation theology (amongst others). Many people from the margins of the Church are pushing their way to the pulpit, demanding the movement of the Bible’s meaning in ways that will alleviate them from inaccurate stigmas. Others scrap the text or leave one community for another that has reached a more welcoming consensus. And there are others who continue to be subjected to the harsh reality of harmful readings of the Bible. It is a responsible thing to do, because of this last group, to challenge not only the specific meanings that those communities are adhering to but also the absolutism that allows them to hold their stance.

This does not require that all religious conviction regarding a sacred text be discarded or that critical rhetoric needs to be adopted. There are other ways to articulate the complex relationship between a community and its sacred text that remain honest about the possibility of the movement of meaning. For instance, Christians embracing the Bible as their sacred text may perceive it as “unchangeable but alive”. The paradox of that statement honors the mysterious nature of religious sensibilities while also acknowledging that the Bible, with its relatively unchanging script, can be engaged as an interactive force in the community. A Christian may find it challenging to be exposed to the suggestion that the meaning of the Bible, even one portion of the Bible, is not fixed. But there are options of adaptation for that Christian. There are ways that they may become open to a flexible understanding of the structure of meaning in the Bible without having to relinquish their religious identity. The situation of marginalized members of a Christian community who wish to remain part of that community as holistically engaged individuals is more sober. Without a communal flexibility of understanding, marginalized members of that community must choose to remain truly themselves – unorthodox, homosexual, female, dark-skinned – and release their religious identity. Or they must choose to suppress their selfhood in order to retain a sense of religious belonging. This need not be the case. Trustworthy structures are built to flex for the safety of those who find sanctuary in them.

needed: comments from the faithful

Calling all people of faith. Specifically people of faith in the Bible. It doesn't much matter to me what sort of faith in the Bible you have, but I need people who consider it a special text, in one way or another. (Some of you may think it's inspired, others that it's inspiring. If you think it's completely archaic and entirely dull then tune out for this post... but tune back in for all subsequent posts. You are still welcome here.)

I have an assignment for one of my Bible classes coming up, and I need your help. This is your chance to contribute to graduate level work in the field of religious studies. Do not pass this up! Whether you know me personally or not, whether you do it anonymously or not, respond to this post with a comment. Okay? Okay!

Here's what I need, it's simple: I'm reading a book (it's called Judges and Method, if you're interested) that contains a sampling of several relatively new approaches to biblical study and interpretation. One of the things that the content and the structure of the book implies is that there are in fact several different ways that a person can approach the biblical text. That there is not just one way to read or interpret the Bible.

I'll be writing a paper on the book and one of the questions I'm dealing with is this: Given the fact that so many readers of the Bible are people of faith who come to it expecting a single, clear "word" or message; and given the fact that many people expect scholars to tell them what the biblical text "really meant," how do you think most people of faith would respond to the exposure of such a range of approaches?

So what do you think? I need you to be honest, and I want a broad range of opinions... so lay it on think. How/what do you feel about the concept that there might be a range of approaches to the Bible? that there may not be one fixed meaning to any given biblical text?

(PS - If any of you who think that the Bible is entirely dull ended up disregarding my initial caveat and you're still reading this post - you should read the book of Judges and see if that doesn't cause you to reconsider... it's totally wild, not for the faint of heart.)

whirling

Just finished watching Occupation 101, a documentary that engages the Israeli/Palestinian conflict from an angle not typically covered by popular media. It opens with a quote by Stephen Hawking, "The greatest enemy of knowledge is not ignorance, it is the illusion of knowledge." And it proceeds from there to recount the layers of complex tragedy that have steadily accrued in Israel/Palestine within the past several decades.

I will be traveling to Israel/Palestine with a group of students, professors, and peace activists in January. The trip for me will be an attempt to continue to dispel personal ignorance regarding the complex religious, social, and political issues that pervade the pocket of the globe commonly referred to as The Holy Land. I also hope to contribute to a more accurate (less delusional) understanding of what has and is contributing to the conflict. In my sphere of influence, my conversations and interactions, the extension of my voice, I want to be honest and hopeful.

Honesty and hope don't always go hand in hand on our whirling twirling globe. But let's try.

pro-carnal

Albert Mohler wrote an article about whether or not [his type of] Christians should practice yoga. His conclusion was not surprising, since [his style of] Christianity is radically challenged by the pluralistic ethos of the global culture today. As a representative of sequestered Christianity he concluded that yoga is not an appropriate practice for those wishing to maintain [his particular brand of] a Christian identity.

Again, no big surprise. And I'm doubtful that his article will do much to dissuade committed yoga practitioners, even Christian ones. Most practitioners are convinced of the sanctity of yoga because it functions. They don't need approval from the Christian aristocracy. Yoga is fine, and Mohler is fighting a losing battle (against a bunch of fit pacifists) to suggest otherwise.

I'm more concerned with implications that Mohler made about core Christian teaching and his apparent ignorance of traditional Christian practices. His audience has shallow roots in the world of yoga, but plenty of Christians would have heeded his words that:

"Christians are not called to empty the mind or to see the human body as a means of connecting to and coming to know the divine. Believers are called to meditate upon the Word of God — an external Word that comes to us by divine revelation — not to meditate by means of incomprehensible syllables."

Mohler's limited and noxious understanding of yoga aside, he's denying something key to Christianity here. And as a current student of the early church fathers I can be quite certain that, though they may concur that yoga is eccentric, they would rip Mohler's anti-body sentiments into tiny shreds and scatter them over a Docetistic grave. Christianity is all about the body.

As a progressive Christian who is fully confident that he's got nothing on yoga I'm willing to sidestep his offensive and untoward attitude about it. But don't mess with the incarnation.

be kind

Gregory & Jesus

Last week I wrote a paper summarizing Gregory of Nyssa's work: The Great Catechism. In it I found a striking quote, one of my favorite Christian exclamations to date:

"The labyrinth of this our life cannot be threaded by the faculties of human nature unless a [human] pursues that same path as he did who, though once in it, yet got beyond the difficulties which hemmed him in."

This was Gregory's argument. This was Gregory's perception of the necessity of God's having been incarnate in Jesus at a crucial point in history. It is a perception, an argument, an exclamation that I find engage-able.

The labyrinth of this our life cannot be threaded by the faculties of human nature unless...

Unless we follow in the way, the style of life, of one who limns the crux in reality where divinity and humanity intermingle.

Maxiums the Confessor (580-682 CE)

Ignorance about God on the part of those who are wise in divine things is not a lack of learning, but a knowledge that knows by silence that God is unknown.

God possesses an existence... that is beyond all affirmation and negation.

Mission

In Tom Robbins' Another Roadside Attraction there is an account of the passing conversation that Jesus had with Tarzan. I don't think that it is historically factual. But maybe some sort of truth can be found in it?

---

[Jesus]: I’m preparing myself for my mission.

[Tarzan]: Which is…?

[Jesus]: To change the world.

[Tarzan]: The world is perpetually changing. It doesn’t do much else but change. It changes from season to season, from night to day, from ice to tropics. It changed from a pocketful of cosmic dust into the complicated ball of goof and glory it is today. It’s changing every celestial second with no help whatsoever. Why do you want to stick your nose into it?

---

Facetious iconoclast though he is, Tarzan kind of deserves an answer. Or if not an answer than at least some thought in response to his rhetorical question.
At least that's how I feel. Because here I am, back in the classroom, preparing myself for my mission. It's good to be here. It feels natural for me. To what end? Or is it enough to be somewhere that feels right.
I can't decide if I want to change the world, or find my place in it. Maybe those two options aren't radically different?

link

Classes are cruising along. Lots of stimulation, a great community of learners, plenty of reminders as to why it is that I am doing what I'm doing. Why? To change the world of course! -- Kind of kidding, more on that from Tom Robbins later...

For now, here's a link to some balanced and, from where I stand, pretty accurate thoughts about Islamic concepts that might otherwise seem confusing to my readers whose only understanding of Islam is in the context of the sensational headlines of mainstream media.

Feel free to post your thoughts and comments here. Though I would ask that you think first and then post, thus filtering out unfounded animosity.

Article: The Meaning of the Koran.

routine

Tuesday 2pm. Constructing a Concept of God.
Xenophanes observed that people create gods in their own image. Whether that's true ontologically or not is still up for debate. But that old satirical Grecian hit the nail on its head in a round about way at least. How we conceive and perceive of God is partially due to the stance we take, the angle we're coming at God from. Tuesday's at 2 I will join professor Laurel Schnieder as we "examine and develop various proposals for conceiving of God in rapidly changing Christian communities". We'll be unpacking all of the heft and bulk of angles like this: liberationist, post-modern, feminist, African-American, Asian, and post-colonial.

Tuesday 6.30-9.30pm. History of Christian Thought: Foundations.
That's quite a presumptuous title. Historically speaking Christians have done an awful lot of thinking. And those thoughts veined out in every which way. Truth be told this course will be sticking mostly to Western manifestations of Christian thought, and we'll only have the space really to survey some of the loudest and proudest of Christian thinkers from early on through to the Reformation. I like the title, it abbreviates nicely (Hist XN Thot), but "Some of the Thoughts Christians Had for a Millenia or So" would be a touch more appropriate.

Wednesday 9am-noon. Interpreting the Gospels.
No small task in and of itself. I'm alright without Greek for this class, but I will be brushing up on the "Grecco-Roman milieu of the Gospels". Professor Yang (rumor has it she pulls a bit of weight in the contemporary milieu of New Testament hermeneutics) will open our burgeoning minds to today's methods of gospel research and scholarship. But in an ongoing effort not to bite off more than our mandibles can handle we'll be sticking to the canonical gospels for this course.

Wednesday 6.30-9.30pm. People and Faith of Israel I
Bible stories mostly. But not the rated G, warm and fuzzy versions. The Hebrew Bible has been put through the crucible a time or two. And it has emerged as one of the finest collections of literary prowess on the market. It has a lot to say about God, a lot to say about faith, and a lot to say about life. Hopefully they won't be saving all of the juicy stuff for the second installment of the course. That shouldn't be a problem; there's plenty of substance to go around.

place in space

With a fresh batch of eager friends and colleagues, a charming neighborhood (and city) to continue to explore, and an exciting schedule of classes soon to begin I move into this weekend both weary and light.

Our apartment has become thoroughly ours and, infused with personal touches of color and comfort, will function as the perfect home base for this coming bout in academia. (Thank you Lauren.) My new friends come from all walks (and sprints and tip-toes and dances) of life - they are beautiful and energetic and I feel embraced and privileged to be among them.

I'm trying now to catch my breath in the midst of all of this incipience.

I breathe in satisfaction, and breathe out anxiety.
I breathe in organization, and breathe out clutter.
I breathe in expectation, and breathe out intimidation.
I breathe in deep into the center of myself, and breathe out with my arms wide open.