Put On Your Own Oxygen Mask First

I've been interested in this year's FIFA Women’s World Cup in which the American team (wouldn't you know it?) attracted significant notoriety because of the impudent boastfulness of some of its players. 

Since the emergence of the Human Potential Movement in the 1960s[1] the idea of self-actualization or self-realization has been variously revered or cursed, used and abused. It has been instrumental in promoting mental and emotional well-being, and it has produced unprecedented and increasing levels of self-aggrandizement and narcissism.

·         A women’s beauty product commercial featured a woman cooing, “It’s expensive; but I’m worth it.” 

·         A fast-food chain chanted, “Have it your way!”

·         A professional athlete snapped photos with a top-of-the-line camera because, “Image is Everything.”

·         A high-end restaurant chain and a banking corporation enticed customers with, “It’s all about you!”

·         Professional football players beat their chests, choreograph their touchdown celebrations, and otherwise scream, “Look at me!” over the slightest accomplishment on the gridiron—even if their team is trailing by three touchdowns!

Whatever happened to the shy, humble slugger who ducked his head, muttered, “Aw, shucks!” and then knocked the cover off the baseball? What has happened in American culture so that even the President of the United States leads the parade of impudent narcissism?

Did it begin with Mohammed Ali screaming, “I am the greatest?” Indeed, was his mantra actually narcissism, or was it an honest acknowledgement of self-actualization? At that point in time, he was, in fact, “the greatest” (at least in the boxing world). Joe Namath said, “If I say and then do it, it’s not bragging.” So, when one reaches that level of self-actualization, is it OK to beat one’s chest and shout it from the highest hill?

The debate begs the question: “What does it mean to be self-actualized?” What is the highest level of selfhood a human can reach? It seems obvious to me—does it seem obvious to you?—that the answer necessarily varies with each individual human, emerging from his or her innate potential. But, in general, it seems to me that one quality of self-actualization would be the absence of any need to flaunt one’s status or to prove anything to anybody. So, whence the braggadocio?

We could play “junior psychologist” and surmise that it began in the depths of loneliness and abandonment in Generation X—the generation of latchkey kids whose parents were busy “being successful” and climbing the corporate ladder. The truth is, I don’t really see that kind of behavior from that generation (except for professional athletes).

Or, we could theorize that it’s a byproduct of the advertising industry—a culture immersed in shallow jingles and sensuous imagery. 

Self-actualization is the top of five levels in Maslow’s hierarchy of human needs, which include, in order: Survival, Security, Social Needs, Achievement, and Self-actualization. Maslow believed that each level of need motivates specific behavior, and that once a need is met (but not before), one moves into the next level. 

I think what we’re seeing in today’s rampant narcissism and braggadocio is a category of people fixated in a not-yet-realized need to achieve. Too often, one judges one’s own value or achievement on the basis of other people’s accomplishments or notoriety. Consequently, too many people simply don’t recognize the value of their own accomplishment and the value of their own lives.

At its root, self-actualization is a good thing; indeed, it even has spiritual value. As a preacher and (I hope) a theologian, I immediately recall Jesus’ ranking of God’s greatest commands: “Love God, love neighbor as yourself.” Certainly, Jesus seems to affirm self-importance in “as yourself.”

When you board an aircraft, prior to takeoff a flight attendant will make a safety speech which includes the instruction, “In case of cabin depressurization, oxygen masks will drop from the overhead. Put on your own oxygen mask first!” Until you have your own oxygen mask in place, there is the risk that you will lose consciousness and therefore be totally ineffective in assisting anyone else, and in particular a child or a person with any level of disability or physical challenge.

That illustration is a utilitarian application both of Maslow’s self-actualization and of Jesus’ exhortation to love others as yourself. In a somewhat more mundane expression, there is a song from the Broadway musical, “Golden Rainbow”—"I Gotta’ Be Me!”—the lyrics of which include the line, “I can’t be right for somebody else if I’m not right for me.”

I propose that self-actualization—identifying and maximizing one’s purpose in life—is not an end in itself. It is an act of “putting on your own oxygen mask first.” Human potential, in its most basic manifestation, is a manifestation of the image of God in which each human is created; more concretely for the Christian, it is living one’s life so it reflects the presence of Christ. The more nearly one approaches self-actualization/Christ-likeness, the more effectively he or she can participate, as all humanity is called to do, in God’s ongoing acts of creation—the more productively he or she can contribute to the fulfillment of the prayer Jesus taught his disciples: “Your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”

When a person lives at that level, there’s no need—or desire—to brag. 

That’s the way it looks through the Flawed Glass that is my worldview.

Together in the Walk,
Jim

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[1] Thanks to Abraham Mazlow’s theory of self-realization as the highest level of human achievement, and to subsequent kneading through Jungian psychology (William James, Carl Rogers, Fritz Perls’ Gestalt Therapy, The Esalen Institute, et. al.)

My 2016 Lenten Journey--Day 31

March 11, 2016 ~ Day 31

My 2016 Lenten Journey: Exploring the Gospels to discover what following Jesus and becoming more like him would look like? ‘And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself” (John 12:32 NRSV).

Matthew 9:18-26 ~ The focus was on Jesus—on his miraculous touch. “Touch me daughter, and she will live.” “If I can touch the hem of his garment, I will be healed.”

But, in both cases, Jesus turned the focus back on the one who had been afflicted: “Your faith, has made you whole.” “She is not dead but asleep.”

In light of this insight (which I don’t recall noting prior to this reading), to what extent is it Jesus’ touch that does the healing, and to what extent does Jesus’ mere presence release within us what already is there?

I’m exploring new territory here (at least it’s new to me); but, I’ve always believed that being created in the image of God (Genesis 1:27) means that we have potential that has never been experienced in human life other than Jesus. Is it possible that part of what it means to be “in Christ” is to unleash increasing degrees of that potential?

What untapped potential lies within me? How can my following Jesus open me to accepting the gifts I have yet to discover?

Whoever has seen me has seen the Father (John 14:9 NRSV)

‘And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself” (John 12:32 NRSV).

That's the way it looks through the flawed glass that is my world view.

Together in the Walk,

Jim

Filling the Law Full

There are those who consider it unpatriotic or even treasonous to point out imperfections in anything American. In fact, one state legislature in the last few days has presented a bill to make it illegal to teach any model of American history (or, I assume, the history of that state) that is critical of any historic action taken by any representation of American policy. One would assume, given the extreme partisanism of American politics today, that emphasis would be given, and bias expressed in favor of the specific policies of the party that originated the legislation.

Others seem to make a life out of criticizing and finding fault with virtually anything done by the “other party”; and it’s about as broad as it is wide when it comes to which party is more critical of the other.

The stance one takes in the resulting cacophony generally depends upon what will accrue the greatest benefit to the individual and/or to the party that provides his or her political, economic, cultural and, yes, religious identity. [It’s interesting, and somewhat appalling to note that church mission/purpose statements more and more reflect the platform and values of one political party or another, even when draped with biblical sound bytes.]

Now, this really isn't a blog about American partisanism. I’ve pretty much exhausted that subject in previous blogs. Nevertheless, it seems a given with which most Americans can identify. I take time here to reassert my bias because it wasn't all that different when Jesus of Nazareth taught and ministered. Today in America we have Democrats, Republicans (including the Tea Party branch), Libertarians, Independents and even a sprinkling of Socialists. In first century Israel you had Sadducees and Pharisees, with rabbis, priests and scribes identifying with one or the other.

And, like the protagonists in American politics the priests and scribes of Jesus’ day were absolutely certain of the absolute truth and validity of their specific position, and often arrogantly obnoxious in their promotion thereof.  And so, when Jesus said, “You have heard it said to the people long ago, ‘Do not murder, and anyone who murders will be subject to judgment.’ But I tell you that anyone who is angry with his brother will be subject to judgment (Matt 5:21-22), his statement was received with all the grace and cordiality an avowed Socialist might expect at an American Tea Party caucus.

But in that statement lies the heart of Jesus’ approach to reading Scripture.

In his book, Disarming Scripture, Derek Flood submits that none of the common approaches to Scripture, viz, the Conservative/Fundamentalist approach, the Atheist approach or the Liberal/Progressive (Cherry-Picking) approach has effectively reconciled contradictory images of God presented in various parts of the Bible, specifically, the contradiction between images of God (mostly Old Testament) as a warrior who commands atrocities, including genocide, in his name, versus images of God (mostly New Testament, although the prophetic writings of Hebrew Scriptures contain some of this) as nurturing and merciful—Jesus called God, “Father”.

Which is it? Is God fickle, or even schizophrenic? Or is there something in our reading and understanding that needs to be addressed?

In the Sermon on the Mount Jesus addresses those contradictions and reconciles them using the familiar formula, “You have heard… but I tell you…” And, it is crucial to note that Jesus prefaces these confrontations by declaring, “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them” (Matt 5:17). The question comes to mind: “Why would Jesus preface his teachings with this disclaimer?” when it appears that he proceeds precisely to overturn the law!

In the original language of the New Testament, the word translated “fulfill” can mean either to meet all the requirements of the law, or it also can mean “perfecting or completing something.” [1] In the full context of these sayings, “it becomes abundantly clear that he is referring to this latter sense of perfecting the law, lovingly bringing it into its fully intended purpose.”[2]

Jesus’ “fulfilling” of the law is rooted in forgiveness and enemy love, which is in direct opposition to the way of violent retaliation and payback justice (“eye for eye”)  characteristic of much of the law of Moses. There is virtually no disagreement among biblical scholars that the “eye for eye” law was itself a movement to limit a previous system of unlimited retaliation: “one-for-one” in place of the 7-fold retaliation of Cain (Gen 4:15) and then the 77-fold vengeance of Lamech (Gen 4:24).

Jesus' reinterpretation of the law, then, is consistent with the movement established much earlier in Scripture. Thus, he fulfills its purpose.

The pattern continues through the issues of divorce, civil lawsuits, and even hatred of one’s enemy: “You have heard… hate your enemy; but I say… love your enemy.” Jesus takes the “eye-for-eye” understanding of limited retribution to the next level, and applies it virtually to all relationships, proposing not to retaliate at all; instead proposing a superior way which seeks to restore enemies, rather than to destroy them.[3]

This is how Jesus read Scripture and understood faithfulness to Scripture: lovingly bringing it into its fully intended purpose. It proposes that the Scriptures, as written, are not necessarily complete and final, but that they point us in the direction of ultimate fulfillment.

No, it’s not militarily or politically proficient. It wasn't for Jesus, either. It got him crucified. So, how serious are we—REALLY—about following Jesus?

That’s how I see it through the flawed glass that is my world view.

Together in the Walk,

Jim

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[1] Derek Flood, Disarming Scripture: Cherry-Picking Liberals, Violence-Loving Conservatives, and Why We All Need to Learn to Read the Bible Like Jesus Did (San Francisco: Metanoia Books, 2014), Kindle edition, Position 393.

[2] Ibid. (emphasis his).

[3] Ibid, Location 406.

Jesus, Don't You Walk So Fast!

Two images are bouncing around in my mind, bumping into each other and stirring up dust. One is the 1935 book title, In His Steps, by Charles Sheldon. It journals a pastor leading his congregation in a one-year pilgrimage to become more like Jesus by asking at each event and circumstance, “What would Jesus Do?”

The other image is the Wayne Newton song from a number of years ago: “Daddy, Don’t You Walk So Fast.”

My Lenten journey this year is an effort to walk “In His Steps”, specifically in regard to how Jesus read Scripture; but the pace is fast, set by Derek Floods’ book, Disarming Scripture (Metanoia Books, 2014).

Flood confronts the difficult and mostly avoided question of how we reconcile the apparent biblical contradiction of a God who sometimes seems loving and nurturing, and at other times orders total genocide, dashing babies’ heads against rocks and disemboweling pregnant women (Hosea 13:16, et. al.).

The book urges the reader to “take a long and sobering look at the extent to which human violence is not merely described in the Bible, but actively promoted as God’s will. This is not simply a matter of a few troublesome passages. Violence and bloodshed committed in God’s name is a major theme of the Old Testament” (Kindle edition, Location 127)

Swiss theologian, Raymund Schwager, writes, “Approximately one thousand passages speak of Yahweh’s blazing anger, of his punishment by death and destruction, and how like a consuming fire he passes judgment, takes revenge, and threatens annihilation … No other topic is as often mentioned (in the Old Testament) as God’s bloody works.”[1]

Flood suggests that the questions we ask are even more pointed because of Christianity’s long history of violence, which he proceeds to document, noting the Crusades, slavery, Native Americans, the 800,000 Tutsis killed in the Rwandan genocide and other examples, all justified by the use of Scripture and committed in God’s name. “This is our legacy as Christians and we need to face it head-on, rather than trying to ignore or excuse it” (Kindle edition Location219).

So, what responses have been offered in view of God-ordered violence? Atheism generally has responded with anger and aggressive language. “New Atheist,” Richard Dawkins, writes: “The God of the Old Testament is arguably the most unpleasant character in all of fiction: jealous and proud of it; a petty, unjust unforgiving control-freak; a vindictive, bloodthirsty ethnic cleanser; a misogynistic, homophobic, racist, infanticidal, genocidal, filicidal, pestilential, megalomaniacal, sadomasochistic, capriciously malevolent bully.”[2]  [Other than that, I wonder what he thinks of God.]

Conservative Christians, on the other hand, generally attempt to justify the violence, basically letting the horrible, even ungodly, morality issues be trumped by the importance of defending Scriptural integrity as they understand it.

In the conquest of Canaan as recorded in Hebrew Scriptures, the Israelites are ordered to kill “everything that breathes” (Deut 20:16). The slaughter is to be complete, including not only humans but, also herds and pets; and when one Israelite attempts to keep a goat or a cow for himself, God orders him put to death.

One commentary justifies the genocide at Jericho as necessary “so that Israel would not be ‘infected by the degenerate religion of the Canaanites,’ declaring that ‘pure faith and worship’ could only be maintained ‘by the complete elimination of the Canaanites themselves’.”[3]

A mega-church pastor compares the Canaanites to a cancer that must be eliminated for the health of God’s people. He calls the genocide "surgery". Another commentary suggests that these stories would be “more palatable” if we think in abstract terms (effectively dehumanizing the victims of genocide).

What seems to be lost in the conversation is the disturbing similarity between these arguments and those used by Hitler to justify the Holocaust!

Why would (presumably) good, loving people go to such lengths to justify genocide in God’s name? Their perspective is based on the sincerely held assumption that faithfulness to Scripture means accepting everything it says at face value. (I hope Flood will flesh out this point in later chapters. If he doesn't, I may make the attempt.)

But there’s a third (and equally ineffective) approach that Flood calls “Cherry-Picking”, and lays it at the feet of progressive or liberal Christians. Essentially, this is the practice of using blinders when we approach the Bible. We’ll just pick out the sweet, nurturing, likable texts, those that call for ministries of compassion and justice, and those that make us feel good, and ignore those more troubling parts.

The primary fault with this third approach is that it’s dishonest (my word, not Flood’s). The secondary fault is that, like the other two approaches, it does nothing to resolve the related biblical disparity between the violent images of God versus the nurturing images.

Flood’s proposal is to face the troubling passages honestly, openly, and as Jesus did.

But therein lies another conundrum. On the one hand, Jesus says, “I did not come to abolish the law but to fulfill it” (Matt 5:17). But then he proceeds blatantly to contradict and overturn multiple passages of Scripture.

I love a good mystery; but, “Jesus, you walk so fast!”

That’s how I see it through the flawed glass that is my world view.

Together in the Walk,

Jim

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[1] Raymund Schwager, Must there Be Scapegoats?: Violence and Redemption in the Bible (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1987), page 55 (italics his). Quoted in Derek Flood, Disarming Scripture, (Kindle edition, location163.)

[2] Richard Dawkins, The God Delusion (New York: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2006), page 51. Quoted in Derek Flood, Disarming Scripture, (Kindle edition, location236.)

[3] Bible Knowledge Commentary: Old Testament (Colorado Springs: David C. Cook, 1984) page 342. Quoted in Derek Flood, Disarming Scripture, (Kindle edition, location245.)

Only Human?

(Luke 2:7 KJV) And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn. 

(Romans 16:25-27 NIV)  Now to him who is able to establish you by my gospel and the proclamation of Jesus Christ, according to the revelation of the mystery hidden for long ages past, ²⁶but now revealed and made known through the prophetic writings by the command of the eternal God, so that all nations might believe and obey him-- ²⁷to the only wise God be glory forever through Jesus Christ! Amen.

Do you end personal letters with a Doxology? “Give my love to the kids, and all praise and glory be to God, through Jesus Christ, Amen!” That's how Paul ended his letter to the Romans. While it seems perfectly normal for a book of Scripture to end with a doxology, when we remember that before Romans was Holy Scripture, it was a personal letter, it may seem strange.

An ordinary letter:  communication with some friends; expressions of concern for their well-being; some advice and council regarding a mutual concern; some closing remarks and then this doxology.

But it didn’t stay “ordinary.” The people in the church in Rome were anxious to know when Paul would arrive.  This man, reputed throughout the empire, had announced plans to visit Rome; but kept being delayed. They knew he lived under constant threat of death, so every week, when the church gathered, the conversation began, “Has anybody heard from Paul?”  “How’s he doing?”  “When is he coming?” 

Then the letter arrived, and word spread quickly: “There’s a letter from Paul” And on Sunday morning the church was packed. A hush fell over the room as the scroll was opened. Heads nodded sagely at the beautifully-constructed theological passages; knowing smiles were exchanged at the personal references. Then, once again: “I’m coming.  I’ve got to go back to Jerusalem, but then I’m coming to you.”

Copies were made and circulated among other congregations in Italy, and the theological passages began to show up in sermons and teachings and even in the worship litanies; this ordinary letter to some friends.

But, years later, this same letter became a part of sacred scripture. In the hands of God, the ordinary becomes extraordinary.

Take, for example, birth. There’s nothing more ordinary—more common—than birth. I dare say everyone reading this blog has experienced it. Most females will give birth at some point in their lives; and most males will sire offspring.

But, in one sense, birth is always extraordinary. In a dirty shack—beer cans and cigarette butts on the floor, cockroaches rummaging through last night’s leftovers still on the table—birth can be an extraordinary problem: another mouth to feed; another child to shield from an abusive spouse. 

In a suburban apartment complex—rock-and-roll blasting from the stereo by the pool, sports cars in numbered parking places—a birth can be an extraordinary intrusion and inconvenience in a life of carefree self-indulgence.

But under different circumstances—in a secure relationship of love and mutual commitment, as God intended—birth is even more than extraordinary; it becomes almost a sacrament: life is given.

Where there is love and stability—where a baby is wanted and parents are ready—a woman who bears a child becomes, literally, bread of life for that child. Through her broken body, and her shed blood, she gives life, and she and her child are linked in an unbreakable communion as close and as holy as Christ’s own Eucharist.

When birth takes place within the context God intended, the ordinary becomes extraordinary.

Of course, there was never anything ordinary about the birth in the Gospel reading above. For most women the announcement comes from her doctor; and most of them already suspect, anyway.  In the text from Luke, it had been an angel who had broken the news to Mary; and it had come as a complete shock.

And listen to the content of the news from the angel: “He shall be great; and shall be called the Son of the Most High.  And the Lord God will give him the throne of his ancestor, David; and he shall reign over the house of Jacob forever.” (Luke 1:32-33  KJV) Nothing ordinary about that!

And when he was born, angels sang, and the very stars announced his birth. International kings came and worshipped him.

But all this we know.  What we may overlook, amid all the extraordinary trappings, is that the birth of Jesus was quite an ordinary birth.

What made the birth of Jesus extraordinary was not angelic choirs and brilliant heavenly lights; nor the visit of international royalty. What made it extraordinary was that in the Babe of Bethlehem, God became ordinary. The Word Became Flesh!

We find it extraordinary when a human rises to superhuman accomplishment; but human acts of heroism happen almost daily. If youwant extraordinary, find a rich man who gives it all too the poor—becomes poor, like them—and then stands with them and works to better their life. That’s extraordinary!

If you want extraordinary, find a God who becomes human and stands with humanity in order to save humanity from its own self-destruction. Find a God who becomes human; and in that act redeems humanity to the divine state in which it was originally created.

I grow so weary of hearing people talk about humanity as if were some kind of disease—a disability that burdens us and pulls us down. A running back leads the league in rushing  four years in a row, and then has an “off-year”—plays hurt—and people say, “Well, I guess he’s just human, after all.”

What was he when he was setting records and leading the league? If our human condition is but the dregs in the bottom of the cup; if being human is what we are when we fail and when we’re weak, then what are we when we soar to heights of extraordinary accomplishment?

If the human condition is a handicap, what does that say about Christ, who, “being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human form.” (Philippians 2:5-7)

It was as a human that Jesus turned the water into wine, healed the crippled, restored hearing to the deaf, and gave sight to the blind and life to the dead. It was as a human that Jesus gave us the beatitudes and the Lord’s Prayer. He called himself, “Son of Man.”

And yet, we call him, “Son of God”. We call him “Emanuel: God with us”. We call him “Savior of the World.”  How is it that an ordinary human takes on such extraordinary identity? And how are we to follow him—to be like him?

First, let us stop referring to humanity as “ordinary.”  To be human is to be created in the Image of God; so, let us accept our true identity and stop using our humanity as an excuse for failure: “What do you expect? I’m only human!” Jesus said to his human disciples, “I tell you the truth, anyone who has faith in me will do what I have been doing. He will do even greater things than these…. (John 14:10-15 NIV)  It’s not our humanity that holds us back!

Second, as humans, created in the Image of God, we have an extraordinary capacity that no other creature has: MORAL CHOICE. And it is in the exercise of that capacity of Choice that the ordinary becomes extraordinary—the human takes on the nature of the divine.

It began with his mother. Confronted with the extraordinary news of the impending birth of her son, she had a choice. And here was her response: "I am the Lord's servant. May it be to me as you have said." (Luke 1:38 NIV) 

It was the same with Jesus: “And being found in human form, he was obedient unto death, even death on the cross.”  (Philippians 2:8)  It is in the words, “Not my will, but Thine, be done,”—words of extraordinary obedience to the Will of God that ordinary humanity bears the extraordinary marks of divinity.

On this fourth week of Advent, I pray that we become so sensitized to seeing the extraordinary among the ordinary that closing our personal letters with a doxology is just an ordinary occurrence.

That’s how I see it through the flawed glass that is my world view.

Together in the Walk,

Jim