Sunday, January 30th
An old vision
I sit at the keys, typing furiously. I feel exhilarated, yet totally horrified. I have a picture in my mind which must come out.
I see the high Roman magistrate standing toe to toe with the lowest criminal. I recognize the scene immediately, of course. This is the Pontious Pilate scene. The one where he speaks to Jesus. This is a vision, of course. And sure enough, expected words come. "Truth? What is truth?" And, as expected, Jesus doesn't move a muscle. I stand there waiting for the next line. I don't remember the line, exactly, but I know that it is Pilate's. I stand there for ten seconds, twenty seconds, a minute. I look to make sure that this is not a moment frozen in time. Sure enough, Pilate and Jesus are both breathing. This is not a frozen moment. The clock is ticking. I start to feel annoyed at Pilate because he's not speaking the next line. He's wasting my time. I yell at him, "C'mon, I've got work to do. Get it over with, already." But he just stands there, giving no sign that he's even heard me. Perhaps five or ten minutes pass. I get bored and start singing silly songs. I sing, "We bring the sacrifice of praise," but with a mocking, raucous voice. I soon grow tired of that song. I sing to the tune of "Wild Thing": "Jesus/ You make my heart sing/ You make everything— holy". That song brings more comfort.
I'm getting really bored. I start pacing. I sing more ridiculous songs, waiting for Pilate to deliver his line. The two of them just stare at each other. I'm tired of singing. So I start yelling at Pilate. "Hey, you stupid moron. You lying bastard. Deliver your stupid line". No response. I yell some even more disgusting stuff. Finally I'm tired of yelling.I look down and see a bunch of small stones lying on the ground. HA! I've got an idea. I pick up a stone and throw it at Pilate. He's a good bit away, and my throwing arm stinks. The stone falls short. I throw a few more, and finally I get the hang of it. I hit him in the leg. He flinches, but goes back to his almost frozen stance. I throw more stones, and my aim is better. I'm pelting him now, hitting him solidly all over his body. He flinches occasionally. But that's not what I really want.
Finally I sock him a good one, right on the melon. I hear the sound of the impact. But he doesn't even flinch. I keep whacking him. I'm so proud to have gotten the hang of it. I want to draw blood. But even though time after time I'm smacking him on the head, it has no effect whatsoever.
It feels good though. I like the sound of the stones hitting his head. Thwack! Bam! Kraaacko! I let a really large, sharp stone, go. Kerploingitythwap! (Kerploingitythwap? Have I invented a new word? The thought pleases me). But even this stone has no effect. The man doesn't even blink.
I hear a sudden voice in my head say, "Holy hematite, Batfred! That one should have taken his head off!" The voice is that of Robin, from the old Batman series.
I smile momentarily at inventing this clever line, but I'm starting to feel scared. I realize that I'm still typing, and the vision is still in my head. I hate my typing. I try to make it stop, but I can't. It's like automatic writing: the kind that demons use to speak through people. I need some comfort, so I put the scene in my head aside for the minute and listen to the voice in my head. Now the voice is pastor Steve's. He says, "Fred, when you feel totally alone, you can call on the Holy Spirit. Jesus will never leave you or forsake you." The words are useless, of course. I've heard them a million times before. I've called a million times, and I'm no better off for it. Steve's voice in my head continues: "You have a multitude of marvelous gifts, my friend". Ah, that's more like it! "Your piano playing is a wonderful gift to us. But there are more gifts in you. There are songs and books yet to be written: by you". Oh, yeah! That's the stuff! "This writing that you are doing: it is the start of a great magnificent book. The reason you can't stop typing is because of the Holy Spirit in you. The book is sure to be a best seller." I'm not feeling so comfy anymore but I keep listening to the voice. "You'll be sure to get national TV interviews. Celebrities will ask you all kinds of questions about your wonderful book. You will speak your wisdom to the whole world!"
"For you are a son of the most high god. Of the house and lineage of Harold, your father. You shall touch your sister Marilyn and she shall be healed."
That voice is not comforting anymore. So I turn my attention from the voice in my head to the vision in my head. I'm starting to realize that this is not a vision at all. More like an antivision. The spirit of antivision is moving my fingers. I chuckle inwardly at my little clever thought. So I turn my attention to the antivision in my head. It is just as before: Jesus and Pilate standing there toe to toe, a question and an unspoken answer hanging between them. I start to feel annoyed at Jesus. This ISN'T a vision, after all. It's just a picture, an antivision of my own creation. The Jesus of my antivision doesn't have to follow the script. He COULD answer. To my surprise, I find I can move closer to the scene. So I do. I get as close as I'm allowed, which is a just a few feet away. I start talking to Jesus. "You know, You could have answered. You could have taken Pilate's pitch. You could have talked and talked and talked. There are so few words in the scriptures. You could have just answered the question. Then all of us sheep wouldn't have to argue about all of these ridiculous questions we argue about. We would know how to set up our church structures. We would know how to act politically. We would know every one of the literally millions of things that we argue about endlessly."
I say these things as one friend to another. But this false Jesus doesn't move a muscle, other than to breathe. My words become uglier."You know, you were only in your early thirties. You could have spoken for another thirty years at least, maybe more. You could have given us 33 years worth of gospel, instead of a lousy three years. THEN you could have gone to the cross." No response. My words turn uglier. "You say you are a pure lamb. More like a dumb sheep. Look at you there, standing like an idiot! You stupid, misbegotten, SOB! All the words you could have spoken! Couldn't you have given me a few to heal my sister!?"
At this point, he turns and stares right at me. And I realize I was mistaken. I thought that the Jesus of my antivision was the false Jesus of the institutional church (the IC). The Jesus that has a sloganized answer for all of life's mysteries. But it is not. It is the True Jesus, the True Holy One. I recognize His face from an earlier vision. I am startled, but this is not the first time I have seen the face of Jesus. The first time I could only bear to look for a few seconds before I was reduced to a worthless man, sobbing on the floor. I am stronger now, and can study His face.
The first thing I notice of course is the eyes. They are the eyes of my first vision. Those loving eyes are the ones that pierced me so the first time, because they held a love that I had never seen, or ever given. I study these eyes a bit more. They are living eyes, but they never blink. It seems to me that they are inutterably sad and unspeakably joyful... at the same time. There are tiny flashes of light in them occasionally as though there is something reflected in them. But otherwise Jesus is totally faceless. There is still the crown of thorns; that is why I mistook Him for for the false Jesus. He wears a mask of blood. Not pure red blood, but blood which has sat exposed to the air for a long time. The air which is ruled by Satan. This mask of blood is utterly black and clotted. It covers whatever features may lie beneath, but I don't think that there are any. No mouth, no nose, no ears. I have no idea how he stood there breathing for all these hours. Suddenly I realize that as I've spent all this time singing stupid songs and throwing stones, Jesus has been bleeding pure fresh blood. But it's useless now, completely mixed with the air of the world.
I know for sure now that this is a true vision, and I am suddenly aware that I am holding a nail and a hammer. I must have picked them up unknowingly while I was yelling at Jesus. But I feel nothing. The fact that I alone have crucified the One True God myself is no surprise to me. It is a Sunday school truth that I learned a long time ago. The common trinity, Me, Myself, and I, commited the deed. For I contain the fullness of the Kohnhead. Perhaps I once felt revulsion at having crucified Jesus, but that was a long time ago.
"Sunday school truths." I chuckle a bit at the words, as I stand there before the One True God holding a nail and hammer. I dwell on the beautiful phrase that I just thought up. Then I remember that I've heard the line before, and I feel stupid for thinking that I made it up. The Sunday school truths keep coming.
"Jesus loves me, this I know/ For the Bible tells me so." This was never true. My knowing comes from somewhere else, not from a book. Books are lifeless.
"Little ones to Him belong/ I am weak but He is strong." This one I believe unwaveringly.
This one is far better than the worthless slogans of the IC. "Things go better with Jesus." I haven't found it to be true. "Jesus, He's everywhere you want to be." Lies, lies, all lies! And then, to the tune of the old McDonald's jingle: "You deserve a break Sunday/ So get up and get away/ To the IC. We do it all for you." That is the biggest lie of them all. No one does it all for you, except for Jesus. I refuse to lay my sacred head in the bed of the IC. My pearls are far too valuable to cast before the swinish spirits that run the IC.
I look in my left hand, and I'm holding a nail. My eyes aren't working very well, so it takes quite some time for this all to sink in. The nail is huge, the biggest Goddam nail in the world. But it feels nearly weightless in my hand. It is totally black. As I look at the nail, its individual features start to resolve. I realize that it IS a nail, but it is shaped like the male genitalia. Finally, I am shocked and appalled. But I compose myself quickly. I study the nail in my hand more closely. I realize that it is has the exact features as my own erect penis, complete with testicles. I recognize every vein, every hair. There is a drop of semen on the glistening tip. A perfect graven image. Except that it is far larger than my own.
I know instinctively that I have a hammer in my right hand. So I study it, too. It is huge also, as expected. The handle is wooden, perfectly crafted and finished to fit my hand. I can barely feel it in my hand, it is so comfortable and weightless. The head of the hammer is a huge stone. The back side, the part where the claw would be on a regular hammer, is an ugly mass of jagged rock. OTOH the face of the hammer is well crafted. It is a smooth face, with an indentation in it. The indentation perfectly matches the base of the "nail" that I hold in my left hand. As I study the indentation in the face of the hammer, I realize that there is an engraving in there. It is a Bible, I recognize it immediately. The words are much harder to make out. There are two words... right in the place where they should be on a Bible. At first I think they say "Sacred Words"... but they are resolving. Sure enough, they say "Holy Bible." This picture is ugly, so I turn away from it. I'm still typing of course. I cannot stop my fingers!
A new picture begins to form in my mind. I'm sitting in the dugout of a baseball game, waiting my turn to bat. I have no desire whatsoever to be here, or to play this stupid game.
The organ is playing "Take me out to the ballgame," but I'm having trouble hearing it because there is a raging storm going on. It's hard to hear; almost impossible to see. I think to myself, "What misbegotten SOB scheduled a ballgame on the day of the biggest storm in history of the world!? And, even worse, failed to call the game!?" No matter. The game is going on and I must bat. I am to bat second. I don't bother to leave the dugout. I don't bother to warm up in the slightest, despite the fact that my clothes are drenched. I really don't care to play this game. I just sit there, miserable.
The first batter gets up to bat. The announcer begins his prattle. He says the batter's name, which I don't catch. This game is every man for himself, after all. He then moves to the stats. I start to realize that this is not American baseball. Each batter takes just one pitch. One chance to hit the ball out of the park. As I listen to the stats, I realize that this batter and I have played many games like this. We've played the game of marriage, the game of parenting, the game of music, the game of politics, and the game of earning a living. The announcer is going on endlessly about this first batter's stats. I only half listen; partly because I'm having trouble hearing, and partly because I don't particularly care. I'm realizing that I'm in the game of truth. And I have one chance to hit the ball. And this ball has the same question on it that Pilate gave Jesus: "What is truth?" The announcer finally finishes and the batter steps up to bat. Before he steps in the box, he takes his index finger and points over the fence. At least that's what I think is happening. I hate this horrid storm. The batter yells loudly, "JESUS is the truth!" There is no mistaking the words. I'm surprised, and try to make out what he is pointing to. There are billboards arranged all around the back of the fence. I look at the one the batter is pointing to. It's hard to make out in the storm, but to me it looks like there is a face there wearing a goatee. Two horns are clearly visible on what is probably the head. My feelings change from boredom to disgust for a minute. I am pleased with my change of feeling.
Here comes the pitch. The batter swings furiously at it, and begins rounding the bases. It seems to me he is taking an easy pace, the pace of a man confident that he has hit a homer. It's hard to tell, of course, because of the damned storm. I am astounded, because to me it looks like a complete miss. I didn't even hear the bat come in contact with the ball. Why is he running? He missed completely! My ears ache to hear the announcer's voice clarify things for me. I close my eyes and try to still my inner voice as much as I possibly can. I hear nothing but the rush of wind. I suddenly realize that I didn't hear the "thwock" of the ball in the catcher's mit either, and I'm confused.
But then, with a thrill that is half nervousness, half utter disdain, I realize that it is my turn. I clearly hear the announcer say my voice. He is announcing my stats, and I listen with intense interest. The announcer is reciting how I have done in past games: the game of marriage, the game of music, and so forth. Now, those are games I care about! I can't make out how many bases I've made in each game, but what I do hear excites me. I totally missed the ball in the game of politics, hit a foul in the game of church, but managed to get hits in the games of marriage, music, and work. Finally the announcer finishes and I begin my reluctant walk to the box. In the storm, a rooster flies right by my ear and crows loudly. I am completely shaken, and lose my self confidence. I realize in a flash that this game, and all the other games of my vision, are life. The stadium is the world. Jesus set the date— and failed to call the game. I know from reading my Bible that I'm supposed to weep bitterly now. But there is no time to weep. I must stop just outside the batter's box and yell as loudly as I can, "JESUS is the TRUTH!" And I must point wherever I see Him, with whatever body parts will do. Fingers, elbows, buttocks. And then I must swing with all my strength and skill, confident that He who has begun a good work in me will complete it. But— I feel no confidence at all in myself...
---
At first, I thought that the Pilate of my vision was representative of the IC. But as I consider this vision a week or two later, I realize that Pilate represents not the false church, but the true church. His head represents the mind of Christ... staring directly into the eyes of Jesus, unmoving. Jesus' truth is reflected in the Church's eyes, and the Church's beauty is reflected in Jesus' eyes. The body of Christ breathes in and out, changes oh so gradually. The Body feels pain, and responds visibly (by flinching). But the Church DOES have the immovable and unassailable mind of Christ.
Saturday, January 29th
musical musings
So last night I did my usual Panda gig. That morning I woke up with a tune running through my head, so I hurriedly ran in the studio and recorded it. It sounded vaguely Chinese to me, but when I actually recorded it it sounded more Celtic. So I guess that just proves that I'm not very Chinese after all! The manager of Panda thinks that it's amazing that I can play Chinese music so well- when in fact it's just a question of reading it off the page. A Chinese piano works just the same as an American one! I find myself ordering food now every Friday night at the restaurant because I haven't found a decent Chinese restaurant here in Clintonville.
So apparently I am getting creative again. I'm starting to nail down exactly what it is that I am musically and what it is that I want to do. I did go through about a six month period of song writing, but I am finding that I am simply not inspired to write songs any more. I'm going to take my music page and put the songs on the bottom. Facing facts I'm simply much better at writing instrumental stuff than songs and I enjoy it much more.
I finally finished up quoheleth this morning and have a rough draft up:
qoheleth hi-fi
qoheleth lo-fi
Some of the harmonies sound vaguely Debussean which is a little bit strange because I never considered myself a huge fan of Debussy.
In other news I've nearly finished Blankets: an Illustrated Novel, a book recommended by Jeff Cannell. It was not very easy to read; parts of it I found pretty disturbing. There is a scene where the main character is in a worship service at a Christian camp. He isn't singing and he gets rebuked for it. In another scene a church teacher is explaining that heaven is one big worship service where everybody sings praises to God all the time. The main character explains that he doesn't like to sing and would rather draw. The teacher can't imagine that someone would not want to sing and can't see the point of drawing.
Deja vu. I remember trying to explain to a fundagelical pastor one time that some people don't like to sing, and she didn't get it.
Perhaps I was speaking of myself. I love to play the piano- but that doesn't mean that I am a natural "worshipper." I don't especially like to sing either. This has made it rather difficult for me in fundagelical circles.
:pianoplayer:
Friday, January 28th
Christian? What is that?!?
So I'm talking with Jeff Cannell in his office the other day and he tells me that many people in Islamic countries have given their lives to Christ but they don't call themselves "Christians". Instead the call themselves Muslims who follow Jesus. It is impossible for these people to think of themselves as "Christians" because "Christians" are people who historically have initiated crusades in their country etc. etc. This reminded me of an interesting quote I read of Ghandi's where he said that he was raised to believe that a Christian was a person with brandy in one hand and beef in the other. He was surprised to read the teachings of Jesus in the N. T. and especially in the sermon on the mount and find that he was a great moral teacher.
This great gap between Christians and Christ still persists today, even in the U. S. A. I often get the impression that a Christian is or should be a person with a flag in one hand and a gun in the other.
Then there is this quote:
Pretend. Act like God is in control when you don't believe he is. Give the impression everything is okay in your life when it's not. Pretend you believe when you doubt: hide your imperfections; maintain the image of a perfect marriage with healthy and well-adjusted children when your family is like any other normal dysfunctional family. And whatever you do, don't admit that you sin. Michael Yaconelli in Messy Spirituality
I would bet that many many unbelievers would use this as a definition as to what a Christian is. And perhaps many Christians do on an unconcious level.
Comments?
Thursday, January 27th
A story of chopsticks
A young woman named Emily who posts on a postmodern theology list wrote a modern day parable that I found interesting so I thought I would put it up for comments.
Well, at least Emily is young compared to me! Of course most of the people I know are. :smiley2:
Once upon a time, there was a great kingdom, or maybe it was a commonwealth, or a republic, I don’t quite remember… well it was certainly a democracy anyway, but that isn’t part of the story. In this land some children were growing up, as sometimes happens, and these children were very happy, and very angry, and a little sad. Although their parents thought their land was very nice, the children thought that their parents had painted it all the wrong colours! And for my part I think they were right but those colours had been painted centuries before, so they were also wrong.
While the children were growing up they spent their days repainting everything in sight, and while they did they told their parents why the other colours were wrong! After a little while they found that all the painting was making them tired and sad, so they gave it up quite and decided to only repaint their own bedrooms. After that decision they were quite happy, and the kingdom was quite a happy and rich one for quite some time. The children played in the fields, collected flowers, and told each other how much they loved each other.
This happy time lasted until their own children came along, then they found that, since the king (or Prime Minister, or President, I’m not exactly sure) said they had to feed their children, they had to work. So off they went to work all day, and when they came home, after being in buildings with such old colours they were very tired. So they put the food down in front of their children, and went to their own bedrooms where they had many flowers growing in pots, and told each other how much they loved everyone else.
Now their own children had a problem, they had plenty of food, but no way to eat it. They had no forks and spoons you see. So some of them started to eat with their hands, but others wouldn’t eat at all and go tsick, and some of them died of hunger. The parents couldn’t understand this since they’d painted their children’s bedrooms in nice colours, and had brought them food. So they thought they must be sick, and took them to see doctors, who couldn’t understand it either, but put food into them with a needle, so some of them survived anyway.
One day (or maybe many days since this kind of information doesn’t always travel as fast as the regular kind) one (or many different) children discovered something. They discovered chopsticks. Some people say they invented them, but I think they just discovered them in a book or something about ancient times, or another kingdom, or both. Slowly as I said earlier, this news spread. Soon many of the children were using these chopsticks to get food into their mouths.
At first their parents only thought this was a little strange or even a bit amusing… but as their children grew up some problems started. Some children opened restaurants, and in these restaurants they didn’t give people forks, knives, and spoons, but only chopsticks! Now, their parents didn’t know anything about how to use chopsticks, so they got angry again. They said that the restaurants were painted all the wrong colours, and that the food they served was poisoned by the chopsticks.
This made the older children angry too. They told the parents that they ought to be fair and let the children eat just as they liked, and the parents said that they were only being selfish (which was something the parents knew a lot about it seems) and they ought to make sure that the parents could eat too. The younger children thought this was very strange, and looked at the fierce arguers with puzzled expressions whenever such arguments broke out.
I wish there was a very happy ending to this story, but I’m afraid there isn’t.. The parents went on eating with their forks, and the children went on eating with their chopsticks, and taught their own children to use chopsticks. Most people gave up arguing about it, except in the fancier restaurants where even some of the children preferred a more traditional style. The kingdom did become peaceful again. The odd thing about this kingdom is that the food they eat never changes only the utensils change sometimes. It is a very strange dominion as you can see.
Wednesday, January 26th
Who would Jesus bomb?
So I made an impulse buy the other day at Border's- getting a book on Christian pacifism. I just started it, but it kinda looks like a rehash of all the old arguments. It starts from the premise "What would Jesus do?" That got me thinking about the bumper sticker "Who would Jesus Bomb?"
Of course the pacifists want us to respond "nobody- Jesus is a pacifist." But- what if Jesus isn't a pacifist? What if He is into bombing people? Can we make an effort to answer this question seriously then?
If Jesus looked out over the whole world with the intention of bombing somebody, who would He choose? Which culture would He find most offensive? Would He bomb only military targets, or civilians too?
If there is a serious answer to the question "Who would Jesus Bomb" I would have to guess that the book of Revelation would be a good place to look to get that answer.
:duel:
Monday, January 24th
The Gospel of Thomas II
Well I finished up Beyond Belief by Elaine Pagels and I've moved on to Dietrich Bonhoeffer's Ethics, a book I read several years ago and which made quite an impression on me. Here is a bit that stood out:
The Pharisee is that extremely admirable man who subordinates his entire life to his knowledge of good and evil and is as severe a judge of himself as of his neighbour to the honour of God, whom he humbly thanks for this knowledge. For the Pharisee every moment of life becomes a situation of conflict in which he has to choose between good and evil. For the sake of avoiding any lapse his entire thought is strenuously devoted night and day to the anticipation of the whole immense range of possible conflicts, to the reaching of a decision in these conflicts, and to the determination of his own choice... The Pharisee is fully conscious of his own faults and of his duty of humility and thankfulness towards God. But, of course, there are differences, which for God's sake must not be disregarded, between the sinner and the man who strives towards good, between the man who becomes a breaker of the law out of a situation of wickedness and the man who does so out of necessity. If anyone disregards these differences, if he fails to take every factor into account in each of the innumerable cases of conflict, he sins against the knowledge of good and evil.
Reminds me of me.
Elaine Pagel's book disappointed me in that it didn't delve very much into the nature of The Gospel of Thomas or its supposed gnostic roots. The author seemed to be more intent upon knocking the early proponents of orthodoxy rather than defending the gnostics. I did go back and read Thomas again as well as various interpretations of this "gospel." Many have pointed out that it contains nothing about redemption, but what struck me was that it contained virtually nothing about love. A strange gospel indeed!
The very essence of gnosticism is the exaltation of knowledge. Thus they view the creator God as evil, because He forbad Adam and Eve from knowing good and evil. Bonhoeffer offers a completely different view- that the creator God is good because he forbad us that knowledge. The Pharisee as well as the gnostic rejoices in his great knowledge (although they are different types of knowledge) which to me seems contrary to the true gospel message.
Pagels offers a compelling case that the gnostic Christians did not regard themselves as heretics or schismatics- that they agreed completely with orthodox teachings. They only believed that they had gone beyond the basics to a truer, more perfect knowledge than the average Christian. She suggests that orthodox Christianity is poorer for having expelled gnostic Christians from the church. Perhaps we can learn a great deal from examining the history of the church through both the eyes of the early gnostics and the early defenders of orthodoxy. They both made their mistakes, and we can and should learn from them.
Sunday, January 23rd
Lazy Sunday
I didn't go to church today. I suppose I should feel guilty about it, but I had a rough day yesterday. I had a 6:00 gig at the Yard Club last night, and didn't get off from my job at the post office until late. They sent us all out on another route because with the weather, we were short people. As I was driving down to this route, I passed the abortion clinic on high street. Yesterday, there were protesters from both camps- the pro-lifers on one side of the street and the pro-choicers on the other side. The pro-choicers were members of a religious group. One of them held a sign which said, "I'm pro-choice and I pray." Interesting. Later in the day I read this passage of scripture in Acts 23:
When Paul realized that one part of them were Sadducees and the other part were Pharisees, he cried out in the Sanhedrin, "Brothers, I am a Pharisee, a son of Pharisees! I am being judged because of the hope of the resurrection of the dead!" When he said this, a dispute broke out between the Pharisees and the Sadducees, and the assembly was divided. For the Sadducees say there is no resurrection, and no angel or spirit, but the Pharisees affirm them all. The shouting grew loud, and some of the scribes of the Pharisees' party got up and argued vehemently: "We find nothing evil in this man. What if a spirit or an angel has spoken to him?" When the dispute became violent, the commander feared that Paul might be torn apart by them and ordered the troops to go down, rescue him from them, and bring him into the barracks. The following night, the Lord stood by him and said, "Have courage! For as you have testified about Me in Jerusalem, so you must also testify in Rome."
The more things change, the more they stay the same :smiley2:
Last night was fun because three people from Central Vineyard came in to hear me play. Nick from my home group was there as well as Joy and George. I didn't realize that Joy and George lived out Hilliard way.
So today we slept in and then Nancy made pancakes and sausage. She also showed me how to fluff a pillow. I'm 46 years old (I'll be 47 in February) and I've never fluffed a pillow before. And ya know something- it really works! The pillows are much less lumpy and much more comfortable.
:coorie:
Friday, January 21st
The Personality of the Church revisited
So I'm sitting in Burger King today talking to my old friend Doug Lawver and out of the blue he tells me that he's trying to get his daughter into counseling. Then he asks me what my Myers-Briggs personality type is. It seems that his daughter and I have the same type: ENFP. So we get into a discussion about the difficulties that N-P types have in this world (Doug is an INFP). It's sad that the church as an institution is ruled by J-S types. I can tell that Doug has some bitterness about this- just as I do. It's funny that the fundagelical church claims to worship the One who said "Do not judge" and then gives great honor to the J-S personality (OK I know that was a cheap shot.)
The debate has arisen on the postmodern theology forum I subscribe to about whether the NT is more community oriented that the OT or whether the NT turns more to individual faith. I would agree with those that say it that it turns more to individual faith, but perhaps not as sharply as we would imagine. It is easy to read the NT as highly individualistic in English because of the difficulty in translating the numerous instances of the plural "you" (as in y'all.) We read "you are the temple of the Holy Spirit" and immediately get "I am the temple" rather than "we are the temple." Perhaps it is a reflection on our American culture that we instinctively read "you" as the singular "you."
Speaking of which- Jeff Cannell recently pointed out that Jesus instructs us to pray "Give us... our daily bread" rather than "Give me... my daily bread;" a distinction we usually gloss over. He was using it to make this point in order to reinforce that we should give to tsunami relief efforts. But isn't it interesting that Jesus also commands us to pray "forgive us our debts" rather than "forgive me my debts"? If you put this along side "Whoever sins you retain, they are retained," this last phrase of Jesus seems more like a rebuke than a promise. The modern church has been very good at retaining the sins of various groups (homosexuals, etc.) whereas Jesus commands us to pray for their forgiveness.
:wave:
Wednesday, January 19th
Music Theory and Theology
This morning as I went to catch the bus I noticed something wierd. Before the bus comes that takes me up High St there is a school bus that goes by. Then after that bus goes by but before my bus comes, another COTA bus goes by on the other side of the street. Then finally my bus comes. What is wierd is that this pattern has become worked into my consciousness without my really thinking about it, just a little thing that has worked its way into the fabric of my life.
So in the course of conversation Sunday Andy and Amanda mention this wonderful pianist at Capitol University. He plays these amazing jazz solos. So Andy asks him, "what are you thinking about when you play these solos?" And the answers are something like, "Oh I'm thinking that I miss my girlfriend." Or "I'm thinking that I'm rather hungry, and some mac and cheese would be really good right now."
I can sympathize with this. Generally when I start thinking too much about the musicality of a solo, it starts to suck. I get worried about whether this note is right or that note was wrong and I quickly lose the thread. The music is better when it just flows out.
We were also talking about music theory. Amanda's old roommate from college was there and she said that she started out as a music major but the music theory defeated her. I can sympathize with that. Music theory is kinda like math, you either get it or you don't.
Theology is like music theory. Everybody needs a little bit of theology- even if unconciously- to live as a Christian. But while there are some Christians that love to swim in theological waters, most of us find that all a bit overwhelming.
I've been "fortunate" to have a head for both music theory and theology. But what I've found is that despite that, just as I play best when I'm not concentrating on the music theory, I live best when I'm not concentrating on theology. Life works best when it just flows out of you. Just like the patterns of the buses that go by in my life, God's best lessons get implanted unconciously.
Monday, January 17th
Martin Luther King day 2005
I'm actually getting a head start by writing this on Martin Luther King Day eve. At least starting to write it. I think that most of us white folk don't quite get what a great man MLK actually was- although we are starting to. I was really inspired by Seth Jewett's recent blog that had a couple quotes concerning MLK.
Seth wrote a phrase that is becoming more and more common these days: "I don't consider myself a pacifist, but..." There are many good arguments against pacifism, but the alternatives are looking so bad that lots of otherwise good Christian people are actually looking at it as a viable alternative. :)
Lots of people have conspiracy theories about MLK, noting the fact that although he proclaimed pacifism, violence always seemed to follow him around. I don't have much respect for conspiracy theories anymore. There seem to be lots of logical reasons why violent men would hang around the protests of the 60's and still not have their actions condoned by the leaders. What do you do when you are a pacifist and violent men hang around your meetings? Throw them out by force?
It's interesting that Christianity seems to have been dominated by pacifists for the first three centuries or so of it's existence. This pacifism was blamed for the eventual destruction of the Roman empire. As Christianity took more and more of a hold, the people who ordinarily would have led the government and the military chose to bow out of these positions when they converted. This combined with other factors weakened the empire until it was overrun by the Germanic tribes in the West. I find it interesting though that this "tragedy" ended up with the eventual conversion of the entire West to Christianity. The argument could certainly be made that although this is true in the West, it was not so in the East, where the fall of the Byzantine empire in the 15th century led to its eventual conversion to Islam.
So anyway for Martin Luther King eve we had Andy and Amanda Anderson over for lunch after church which was a wonderful time. No deep conversation, just hanging out and getting a feel for what the other person was like. Our dogs drew a lot of attention- especially Kalayo. He is quite the active canine, and can be very entertaining. He likes to play by grabbing toys and shaking them. Everybody thinks that this is very cute. Every so often I think about the fact that Yorkshire Terriers were bred as ratters, and that Kalayo's method of playing is designed to break the necks of rats. Somehow it doesn't seem as cute then :(
Everybody is so young at our new church! Nancy commented on the fact that the people we were having over for lunch were younger than our daughter. That seemed strange to her. Andy was looking at our CDs and made the comment, "Oh my parents have this one." Hmmmmm.
Well, I'm going to leave off writing this blog for now and go decorate the MLK tree. It is Martin Luther King eve after all. I'll resume writing tomorrow. Maybe.
Sunday, January 16th
Scripture interpreting scripture II
I recently read an article on a conservative site ridiculing the idea of universalism. The impetus for the article was a preacher who, to the dismay of this particular site, was saying that it would be ridiculous for God to send poor starving Africans to hell.
Universalism (or more precisely, universal salvationism) is supported by a certain body of scriptures such as "If I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw all men to me." Unfortunately for Christian orthodoxy, there are an embarrasingly large number of scriptures like these.
But unfortunately for those who espouse universal salvationism, there is an equally embarrasingly large number of scriptures that support eternal punishment for a certain number of people.
Thus it is easy to refute universal salvationism. But it is equally easy to refute eternal punishment. It is all a question of which scriptures happen to be your favorite in discussing the question.
The reality is that in this area, as well as many others, there are scriptures which are not reconcilable by logical means. When this happens, theologians (who often love logic more than the scriptures themselves) employ a method called "scripure interprets scripture." The way this process works is that the theologian assumes certain scriptures to be "key scriptures." These scriptures "unlock" the scriptures that are assumed to be not-so-key. Obviously, if you are in favor of the doctrine of eternal punishment, the hell scriptures are "key" and "unlock" the numerous scriptures that support universal salvationism. If you are a universal salvationist, you use the same process but have different "key" scriptures.
To me it seems that the most honest position on the subject and that which does the least damage to the scriptures is that of the neoorthodox theologians, who admit that the scriptures contain contradictory information on the subject, and refuse to resolve the conflict, taking an agnostic stand concerning eternal punishment or universal salvationism.
It is interesting that this particular article links universal salvationism and the poor, because the strongest argument for the existence of hell comes from an interesting story that Jesus told concerning a poor man named Lazarus and an unnamed rich man. Universal salvationists, not surprisingly, believe this to be a parable, whereas those who espouse the orthodox position believe that it is a true story.
If it is a true story, it contains some interesting points that the orthodox generally overlook or ignore. Because when it comes to the exact reason why the poor man is in heaven and the rich man is in hell, Abraham makes it clear that the only reason that Lazarus is in heaven is because he is poor, not because of any act or belief on his part. And the reason that the rich man is in hell is that he was rich, despite the fact that he was a part of the right religion. In fact, Abraham goes so far as to call this man "my son," even when he is suffering in hell!
This story reinforces what Jesus said in the sermon on the plain when He told us that the poor are blessed, and woe to the rich. Conservatives, who in general see possesion of money and power as evidence of God's blessing, definitely do not see this as a key scripture. Instead, they quote the sermon on the mount as key: "Blessed are the poor in spirit." In their minds, this "unlocks" what Jesus said in the sermon on the plain.
Really, there is another contradiction here between being poor in spirit and just being poor. Liberals tend to see something purifying in the simple state of poverty, whereas conservatives see the opposite. Thus for liberals, the sermon on the plain is key and for conservatives the sermon on the mount is key.
Perhaps both sides are doing the same amount of violence to the scriptures?
Friday, January 14th
Prayer and control
So at home group they passed out this list of 15 ideas about how to enrich your prayer life. We are supposed to practice a couple of them and share with the group how things went.
I noticed on Andy Whitman's blog that he is practicing the flash prayer technique. This is where when a situation impresses itself upon you, you respond with a quick prayer. Andy's favorite flash prayer is, "Help me Lord!"
I've been practicing this for many years now, although I haven't called it flash prayer. I typically use an abbreviated version of Andy's prayer which goes like this:
"HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP"
I suppose it wouldn't count to use this technique as a way to deepen my prayer life, since I'm already using it. So one thing that I am trying to do is to wake up praying. I wasn't quite sure what this was so I asked the group if anyone practiced it. It turns out that this is something that Jeff Kobelt does regularly. Apparently it's OK just to start praying when you wake up. I had the crazy idea that "wake up praying" meant to pray in your dreams.
Which to me, seems like a hard thing to control.
Speaking of control, one of the cool things that I've found in not driving as much is that I am not nearly in control as much as I used to be. Actually it feels pretty good! Nancy and I are going to take a Greyhound Bus to Pittsburg in a couple of weekends to visit my brother and his wife, and the idea seems great to me. Yeah, I've got to conform to somebody else's schedule, and I'll have to stop when the bus stops. But the idea of not having to drive is very appealing.
I haven't been the greatest at praying over the years and perhaps that has a lot to do with my control issues. I don't really want to turn control over to God. I'd rather imagine that I have it all under control and don't need any help.
On the other hand, I imagine that there are a few that use prayer as a means to control God. They imagine that if they pray, God has to answer them in a visible way. :luigi:
Monday, January 10th
Musical thoughts of the wierd
So the other day I saw a package that was endorsed "Do not open with sharp instruments" and my immediate thought was "Why would anybody attempt to use a guitar that is tuned too high to open a package?"
It gets wierder.
I use this book called The Best Chord Changes for the Best Standards Ever occasionally to learn new jazz stuff. The book is excellent! The cover features a pair of beautifully manicured hands playing a jazz chord:
I don't think anybody is supposed to look too carefully at the actual chord that is being played. This is what it looks like:
What the heck is that thing?!? My best guess at a name is an F#7b5#9b13add2. Yuck! It sounds like this.
Aaaaaack!
But I'd still recommend the book. Just don't use that particular chord. :ffs:
:pianoplayer:
Sunday, January 9th
wierd musical thoughts
So the other day I saw a package that was endorsed "Do not open with sharp instruments" and my immediate thought was "Why would anybody attempt to use a guitar that is tuned too high to open a package?"
It gets wierder.
I use this book called The Best Chord Changes for the Best Standards Ever occasionally to learn new jazz stuff. The book is excellent! The cover features a pair of beautifully manicured hands playing a jazz chord:
I don't think anybody is supposed to look too carefully at the actual chord that is being played. This is what it looks like:
What the heck is that thing?!? My best guess at a name is an F#7b5#9b13add2. Yuck! It sounds like this.
Aaaaaack!
But I'd still recommend the book. Just don't use that particular chord. :ffs:
:pianoplayer:
90% of what you do is worthless!
In Jeff Cannell's excellent sermon today he made mention of the fact that we use only a small percentage of our brains- only 10% (more or less.) He also made mention of the Aramaic term raca which is a pejorative term meaning a person that is totally worthless.
I put these two factoids together to come up with the theory that everybody (yes, even I) is about 90% raca. When I think about all of the things that I do, I figure only about 10% max is going to figure into the Kingdom of God.
Now here's the kicker: we don't ever know which 10% is the really important stuff. Of course, religious people are sure that it's the religious activity and irreligious people are sure that it's the irreligious stuff that matters to God. But- only God knows- and He's not telling!
Thursday, January 6th
The Gospel of Thomas
I've just started reading Elaine Pagel's Beyond Belief which is an examination of the Gospel of Thomas. She obviously has a certain axe to grind, but the book is still fascinating- especially the little snippets of Christian history that she presents to make her case. Basically she believes that the Gospel of Thomas and the Gospel of John date from around the same decade (the last decade of the first century A. D.), that they borrow from the same material, but that they use this material to come to diametrically opposite conclusions. She makes a very good case for this. Of course her "axe" is that both Thomas and John are equally valid ways of looking at Christianity.
The common ground of both gospels is that Jesus is the light that has come into the world. The opposites are that John says that this light resides only in Jesus, whereas Thomas says that this light resides in everybody.
My experience tells me that John is right. I know that without the Holy Spirit, there would be no light in me.
Nevertheless, I'm going to go back and read Thomas again, and do some research on the so-called Thomas Christians mentioned in Pagel's book.
One thing Pagel says that I think is absolutely true is that from Christianity's first moments there was a fight about who was best representing true Christianity. Thus there were Peter Christians, Thomas Christians, John Christians, etc. from the very beginning. Paul rebukes such thinking in 1st Corinthians. But I find it refreshing to know that the bickering amongst Christians that I find so disturbing was a normal thing from the very beginning. It should not surprise us so.
:duel:
Monday, January 3rd
Scripture interpreting scripture
My post modern theology list has been discussing the pros and cons of Calvinism because there has been a recent influx of Calvinists into the forum.
For me the whole Calvinist/Arminian problem mirrors just about every other theological problem that people argue about. The way systematic theology works is that (much to the dismay of the modern mind) there are scriptures that contradict one another. So, in order to solve this "problem," the theologist must take one side of these contradictory scriptures and assume them to be primary. We then use these primary scriptures to interpret the scriptures which contradict them.
This process is what people call "scripture interpreting scripture."
In the whole Calvinist/Arminian debate, one side takes the scriptures about God predestining people to be primary and explains the scriptures about people choosing God "in the light" of those primary scriptures. Another side takes the scriptures about people choosing God to be primary and explains the predestination scriptures "in the light" of what happens to be their favorite scriptures.
While both sides say that they are upholding scripture, they are actually upholding a particular logic that seems attractive to them and using scripture to support that logic.
To uphold scripture, maybe we should be honest and say that scripture doesn't give a rat's hindquarters about theology. The Bible is not a theological book. It is historical record about God's interaction with His creation.
I know somebody is going to say that Paul's letters are full of theology, and of course that is true. But if we are utterly honest, the letters of Paul are best understood as the failure of the greatest theological mind in history to explain the essential contradictions that exist in God and His creation. Nearly 2000 years of bickering shows this to be the case.
Theology by definition is the study of God. Anybody who has read the Bible even a little bit should know that God has no interest in being studied and resists those that do.
I will say that I do have some sympathy for the hard-core Calvinists. The evangelical church in the main is strongly Armininan. This is probably a huge source of its pride. Since the evangelical church are those who "have decided to follow Jesus," they find it easy to look down on those who have decided not to follow Jesus.
A week or so ago I watched a program on the History channel entitled The History of God. It really shed light about continuing contradictory ideas about God in monotheism. The program took a bit of an evolutionary approach in that it viewed Abraham not so much as the first monotheist as a polytheist whose recorded encounters with his God served as a springboard for monotheism. The allure of polytheism is that the polytheistic gods are close and intimate. The God of Abraham appears to be distant and aloof. When Jacob wrestles with God and asks Him His name, He replies "You must not ask me that." When God does finally reveal His name to Moses, He gives the cryptic name "I am that I am." According to the program, to know the name of a god is to have power over that god. Thus the reluctance of the Hebrew God to reveal His name.
The Three in One is an essential contradiction that also expresses this distant and powerful monotheistic God and the close and intimate God that is reminiscent of polytheism. Jesus is revealed as close and intimate in the New Testament, and yet at the end of the gospels and the beginning of acts, He becomes somewhat distant. He ascends into heaven where he must remain until all things are fulfilled. Of course God is still close and intimate in the person of the Holy Spirit. But the contradiction between a distant and powerful God and an intimate God is not completely logically fulfilled in the doctrine of the Trinity.
Which is why I no longer worship logic. :smokin:
Sunday, January 2nd
Happy New 2005!
My new year's eve started as usual at work at the post office. It really wasn't an unusual day at all in that respect. One of my coworkers was surprised by receiving an unusual gift from a patron- a six pack of Michelob (which is his favorite brew.) Since the patron is an attorney, my coworker is wondering whether perhaps he is trying to drum up some business for himself should a DUI charge result from the gift. The evening continued by my going to work at Panda Inn. It was crazy busy, busier than I've seen in quite a while. This turned out to be good for me, with tips running about double what they usually do. This should be credited in part by a group of people from Central Vineyard being there. Fellow churchites can always be counted upon to tip fairly generously, though unfortunately they rarely get so intoxicated as to give outrageously over-the-top tips. :laugh2:
New year's day was lots of fun. We slept in until after 9 A. M. and then walked to Cup o' Joe to enjoy a leisurely cup of coffee and breakfast food. Nancy thought that it was funny that I would get a bowl of chicken noodle soup for breakfast, although it seemed quite natural to me. After this, we decided that we needed to get a coffee maker since we were having my inlaws over for a new year's day meal. Of course, coffee is a necessity! So we walked up to the Kroger's on North Broadway, but they had a very poor selection of coffee makers. So we decided to take the bus up to Kroger's marketplace in Graceland shopping center. There was a much better selection there. We decided to get a percolating coffee maker. Very nostalgic.
Nancy pointed out to me that we were living the "European lifestyle," which is not something that ever occurred to me. One thing that has occurred to me is that perhaps an overlooked reason why so many Americans are obese is because they are addicted to their cars as opposed to walking or riding bicycles. At any rate we had a great time! When you are walking or riding the bus, there is plenty of time to talk to one another rather than concentrating on your driving or listening to the radio.
New year's day dinner was great with Nancy fixing a wonderful vegetarian meal centered on macaroni and cheese. According to a recent Other Paper survey, a majority of people do not believe that a vegetarian should provide meat items for their non-vegetarian guests (yeah!) Everybody oohed and aahed over the wonderful way Nancy has decorated our new home.
After dinner I walked down to Kroger's to stock up on tea candles, which were 75% off because they were considered Christmas items. I also walked to Pace-High Carryout to build a six-pack of esoteric beers that I've been wanting to sample but not wanting to invest in a full six for that end.
The only negative in the day was that my daughter Anya had to take a trip to the emergency room because of some abdominal pain. She underwent a cat scan which failed to reveal anything. Those who pray are welcome to pray that the doctors will soon find out what the problem is and be able to treat it. (Or, perhaps to pray that God will handle the problem in another way.)
:compute:
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