“My Bible Says…”

 

…has become a favorite go-to introductory phrase for many who are not initiated into the complexities of intense, in-depth study of Scripture. And they could be right. There are more than 450 English translations of the Bible, and none of them are identical. Search long enough and one probably can find a version that says what one wants it to say.

American Christian lay persons, especially in some more conservative groups, have been led to believe that Bible study is simple: just draw your chairs in a circle and each one read a verse and say what it means to me. And a growing attitude in conservative Christianity—parallel with an increasingly prevalent attitude among American conservatives in general—is that education is a detriment to faith. Theological seminaries, says the attitude, are “theological cemeteries.”

Biochemist and “Sci-Fi” author, Isaac Asimov, wrote, “There is a cult of ignorance in the United States, and there has always been. The strain of anti-intellectualism has been a constant thread winding its way through our political and cultural life, nurtured by the false notion that democracy means that 'my ignorance is just as good as your knowledge.”

In a recent interview, FOX host, Tucker Carlson, said college education “diminishes us,” and “everyone should opt out.” He indicated the only real value in college education is “discrete knowledge” applicable to specific professions and careers. Medicine and engineering are two that he mentioned.

Always a dangerous idea, disregard for knowledge is never more dangerous than when applied to the study of ancient Holy Writ. Such a warped genre of faith expression is a spin-off: Calvinism gone amok. Faith is replaced with knowledge (Oral Roberts used to say, “I know that I know that I know…”), and questions are no allowed. Trust is replaced with certitude, and “being right” is the goal of all spiritual endeavors (because, while grace is preached, the actuality of that strain of Christianity is a “works righteousness” that says our relationship with God and our eternal destinies are determined by the correctness of our doctrine. ). And intelligence and integrity are measured largely by whether one “agrees with me.”

But here’s the thing: there are multiple doctrines claiming to be “right,” although virtually none of them are identical. Somebody has to be wrong! (Which is precisely why we need grace!)

What we must realize at the very beginning is that when we open any version of the Bible, we are reading a copy of a copy of a copy of a copy… ad infinitum.

Did somebody just play the “divinely inspired” card? With more than 450 English versions, and thousands of older (even ancient) manuscripts, scrolls, and fragments of various parts of the Bible written in multiple languages and dialects over several hundred years, none of which are identical, which is the divinely inspired one? And just because it’s “easy to read” doesn’t mean it’s true to the divinely inspired original documents, none of which exist today.

I don’t introduce all these issues and challenges just to stir the pot or to raise doubts. There is a valid, dependable way to arrive at a trustworthy understanding of Scripture that sustains the intent of the One who inspired it. But note: the understanding will be “trustworthy,” not certain. “The Word” is true—absolutely. But, limited as we are by the clay of which we humans are made, we do not possess the ability to know anything absolutely. At best—AT BEST—we will read and understand by faith, the opposite of which is not doubt, but knowledge.

I am not a medical professional. I don’t understand the mechanics of genetics or infectious diseases or immunology; therefore, I have to trust those who have devoted their lives to the healing arts. Of course, there are a few proverbial bad apples in every barrel, and while some medical professionals are seduced by the siren music of questionable applications and practices, and while others succumb to the temptations of profiteering, and while non-medical sources may politicize certain aspects of health care (e.g., immunizations), the overall consensus of reputable professionals almost always is the best path to follow.

I seriously doubt that any of those who comprise the overall consensus have dedicated their lives to the study and practice of healing just so they can mislead the public. I trust the consensus of mainstream medical science, and I accept its recommendations by faith.

The same holds true in any profession. I have a friend who is a petroleum engineer. He tells the oil companies where to drill. He studies multiple factors, such as the history of an area and its geological structure. He uses seismic technology. He reads samples collected from trial drillings. Then based upon “the preponderance of the evidence” (his words), he says, “Drill here.” Evidence produces faith, not certitude. Some holes will be dry.

“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” (Hebrews 11:1 NRSV) Speaking of God’s future time, Paul wrote, “For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known.” (I Corinthians 13:12 NRSV, emphases mine)

Most people are not professional theologians or biblical scholars. I have some training in both fields, and am conversant with the terminology; however, I have not engaged in the depth of investigation necessary to find “the preponderance of the evidence” within Holy Writ. I am dependent upon the work of those who have been thus engaged. In that regard, the primary difference between the general public and me is that (1) I am trained to use the resources produced by a consensus of mainstream theologians and biblical scholars, and (2) (maybe more importantly) I trust them.

I know the levels of study and research in which those professionals engage. I know the intensity of their dedication, and I don’t believe they have devoted their lives to their profession just to mess with people’s faith or to make us all liberals or communists.

There are two basic approaches to the study of Scripture. The first is to dig out what the Scriptures are saying. This is a clean slate discipline that endeavors to set aside all previously held ideas. It examines the available ancient texts in their original languages, and places them in their original cultural, historical, and religious contexts. They consider the placement of particular passage within the context of the broader reading. The general question is, “What was God saying to a particular people in a particular historical and cultural setting?” The task then becomes one of applying the ancient truths in our language, in our historical and cultural setting.

That approach is called “exegesis:” reading meaning “out of” the text; letting the text speak for itself.

The second approach is to assume the Bible’s message applies as is, de facto and en toto, to our time and to our culture, and to use the Bible as a tool for confirming ideas, creeds, and practices already in place. This approach is called “eisegesis,” reading meaning “into” the text. It sometimes is called “proof texting.”

It likely is evident that I advocate the former. I say, trust the mainstream theologians and biblical scholars. There is consensus among them, and the resources they produce are plentiful and useful.

If I may exercise a bit of self-indulgence, I suspect the most common reason the laity has difficulty with Scripture is not that it is so difficult to understand (although it is not easy!), but that the laity is not sufficiently motivated to dig into the study resources that readily are available. Devotional and inspirational sources sell; but in-depth study resources gather dust on book store shelves. Many also are reluctant to participate in studies led by those with competence in those resources.

I’m not concerned with what “your Bible” or “my Bible” says. My concern is with what “The” Bible says. And within the community of faith are those with the skills and resources I trust to guide me to the Bible’s truth.

That’s the way it looks through the Flawed glass that is my world view.

Together in the Walk,

Jim

Transformation--My Testimony

I grew up in the Southern Baptist Church during the 1940s and 50s. I cherish and honor that heritage, even though I have moved a considerable distance from it, theologically, politically (sic), and biblically. My passion for the faith and for the teachings of Jesus came from that background. I literally do not remember a time in my life that I didn’t believe and accept that “Jesus loves me, this I know; for the Bible tells me so.”

Undeniably, my dependence upon the Bible as the standard of measure (canon is the official word for that) for matters of faith and Christian living came also from that legacy.

Ironically, it also was the study of the Bible that began my shift away from my native church. I have an inquisitive mind. It’s in my DNA; but it proved a liability in my early years in the Southern Baptist Church. From my earliest memories I had questioned specific applications of Scripture; but those questions were discouraged. I was even told, “There are just some things we’re not supposed to know.”

I didn’t accept that then; and I don’t accept it today. During my last year in high school and through my undergraduate years, I frequently said, “I’m not fully a Southern Baptist; but, I’m closer to them than anybody else.” The truth was that I really didn’t know much about what anybody else believed.

It has been said, “There are no atheists in foxholes.” Well, I’ve never been close to being an atheist; nevertheless, when I was sent to Vietnam by the Unites States Marine Corp, my dependence upon my faith was at perhaps it’s highest level.

I took it upon myself to “be in the Word” as much as possible, and since I was assigned to headquarters company, headquarters battalion, 3^rd Marine Division, I had time and some level of security in which to do so. I decided to begin with Paul’s epistle to the Romans: you know, where Martin Luther found such discrepancies between what he had been taught and what the Bible says.

Well, I was letting the Bible speak to me because that’s what my preachers and Sunday School teachers had told me to do; but very early I began to note that what I thought was in the Bible, really wasn’t there. I even found some things that actually were counter to what I had been taught. The more I read the Bible, the less I could reconcile everything I had learned with what I found in the Bible.

At first it was a troubling experience—even frightening. After all, I was supposed to believe what I was taught, wasn’t I—not to question God or the Bible? What I came to realize was that the real message I was taught was to not question what I was being taught about God or the Bible. There is a difference.

But, in the Epistle of Romans I discovered that my relationship with God is not dependent upon believing right doctrine. It is dependent upon my accepting Jesus’ teaching that God already loves me and wants to make my life full and complete, regardless of—sometimes in spite of—what I believe at any given moment. Faith, then, is not a set of beliefs or doctrines, but is the willingness to live as if I truly believe what I say I believe.

Indeed, those moments of anxiety began to be transformed into a sense of comfort as I began to realize I had been trusting correct doctrine instead of trusting God as the basis of my relationship with God. Out of a fear of hell I had been driven to cling to doctrine—to put my faith in it rather than in the God revealed in Jesus. That realization is both freeing and motivating. In recalling that transformative time in my life, I am reminded of John Gillespie McGee’s poem, “High Flight:”

 Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air . . .

Up, up the long, delirious burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or ever eagle flew —
And, while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

It was in reading the Bible that I slipped the surly bonds of my faith culture. And, time after time, it has been in reading the Bible that I have discovered new understandings of God’s unlimited, unmerited grace in contrast to the restrictive, legalistic, and exclusionary doctrines that are born out of human fear and lack of trust in that same grace.

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

Together in the Walk,

Jim

The Common Denominator

Today I want to start at the end. In summarizing and concluding his book, Disarming Scripture: Cherry-Picking Liberals, Violence-Loving Conservatives and Why We All Need to Learn to Read the Bible Like Jesus Did, Derek Flood begins with:

“The primary purpose of Scripture (is) to lead us to the one who is Life, Love Truth, and the Way. Scripture has the primary task of leading us into a living relationship with God in Christ, and then after that to continue to be a window through which we can commune with God in which the Spirit can communicate God’s love to us, leading us to love others with that same Jesus-shaped love. That’s the devotional, Spirit-centered, gospel-focused reading that needs to be at the center of how we read Scripture as Scripture.”[1]

I closed my last blog by saying Jesus established Love as the common denominator for all who read Scripture. The Bible was never intended to be a taskmaster, placing a burden on our back; it was intended to act as a servant, leading us to love God, others and ourselves (Matthew 22:37-40). If we read it in any way that leads to the opposite of this, we get it wrong. So whenever the religious leaders interpreted the Law in any way that hindered people from finding healing, and life, Jesus publicly opposed their hurtful interpretation.

This emphasis on love as the final purpose of Scripture has major consequences because it differs quite sharply from the way the vast majority of us have learned to interpret Scripture. We are taught instead, to focus on the “correct” reading, with everything harmonizing and lining up perfectly. In most cases it’s a kind of circular approach that begins with a doctrine or dogma about the Bible and then uses the Bible to “prove” the doctrine.

But when the focus on “correct” interpretation takes priority, love takes a back seat. The focus “being right” is at the expense of love. It is precisely this “by the book” obsession that led American Christians in the past to justify slavery and eventually led to an uncivil war. And those who took the authority of Scripture most seriously were the ones most likely to conclude that the Bible sanctioned slavery. [2] Unspeakable cruelty and barbarity was committed in the name of submitting to the authority of Scripture.

This obsession with “being right” trumps love—almost always. The prioritizing of scriptural fidelity at the expense of grace is a direct parallel to the fundamentalism of the Pharisees Jesus so adamantly opposed. Despite their desire to “be right," modern-day Christian Pharisees get the Bible dead wrong. As Paul puts it, if we don’t have love, all our doctrines and biblical interpretations are just meaningless noise (I Corinthians 13:1-3). When read “right”, Scripture always leads to love.[3]

And we cannot afford to forget that Jesus loved the people on the fringes of society—the very ones the Pharisees considered unworthy of love; indeed, Jesus loved even those who hated him. And Jesus loved them without requiring them to change first. Indeed, it was his love, given freely and unconditionally, that empowered them to change. 

That last sentence may be the single most frequently missed part of the gospel message: Love/Grace precedes repentance and change; indeed, Love/Grace is the empowering factor behind repentance. We have seen--in history, in Scripture and in our own lives--that the law and the threat of punishment do not motivate repentance and change [how fast do you drive in a 55 mph zone?]. Only love, with its vision of wholeness and peace can do that.

During this final week of Lent—called Holy Week—I hope to make some personal application of the principles I've discovered during my Lenten Pilgrimage toward learning to read the Bible as Jesus did. But for now,

That’s the way 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 Press, 2014) Kindle edition, Location 3360.

[2] Mark A. Noll, The Civil War as a Theological Crisis (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2006).

[3] Today’s blog is heavily dependent upon Derek Flood, op. cit., Chapter Three, Location 959ff, with an occasional insertion by yours truly.

A More Excellent Way

With a lot of help from Derek Flood[1], Walter Wink[2], Walter Brueggemann[3] and others, I've been exploring how to read the Bible as Jesus did. Basically, Jesus applied the rabbinic hermeneutic[4] of faithful questioning, in contrast to the approach of the Pharisees of his day, who employed a hermeneutic of unquestioning obedience.

Ever since Christianity first began its shameless dance with political power, the Bible has been used primarily to maintain orthodoxy and define heresy. When Constantine marched his army into the ocean and pronounced them “baptized”, the church began a long history of enforcing orthodoxy with threats of death, torture, exclusion and hell fire. The record of atrocities is almost endless, from the crusades and the inquisition, to Puritan witch hunts to slavery to basically every human rights issue.

In every case, the practitioners of barbarism viewed their interpretation of the faith as the one and only “right” reading, and enforced their “right” way with violent use of power. This clearly represents the very worst of the way of unquestioning obedience and inevitably leads to violence committed in God’s name.[5] It is a total misreading of Scripture’s intent.

In striking contrast is rabbinic Judaism’s tradition of faithful questioning. Rabbi Anson Laytner makes the case that faithful questioning is typical, not only of the Hebrew Bible, but also of the Jewish faith itself.[6] (I have this delightful image of Tevye arguing with God in “Fiddler on the Roof.”)

Key examples of faithful questioning are found throughout the Jewish commentaries on the Scriptures. Instead of a single interpretation that establishes the orthodox, “right” way of reading Torah, the commentaries typically present dissenting views from various rabbinic sages, offered side by side like the transcript of a courtroom trial. It may help to recall that the word, “Israel” means “wrestles with God.”

From this line of thought we can see that reading Scripture by faithfully questioning violence and harm perpetrated in God’s name is not only characteristic of Jesus and Paul and the rest of the New Testament, it’s also a deeply Jewish way to read Scripture. Remember: Jesus also was a rabbi, steeped in that tradition.

Every culture and every religious faith is susceptible to error. The root of the matter is not necessarily within the particular culture or religion, but rather is the marriage of religion and political power. This always is a poisonous combination, and is the point at which the church diverges from the way of Jesus.

But there always are those anxious souls who want to nail everything down, who want guarantees and control over their destinies, both temporal and eternal. Their needs are such that they must live by sight, and not by faith.[7] The harm emerges when their insecurities lead to the use—or at least the threat—of violence to silence dissent. The greatest heresy is their belief that the use of force is a valid example of upholding the faith.

 The key difference between Jesus and the Pharisees, and between differing groups today is in which narrative we choose to embrace, and which we choose to avoid, discount or (as Jesus did) outright reject. The question is not whether we will choose some texts and ignore or reject others. Even the most fundamental literalist reads the Bible selectively, if only by emphasis and tone of voice. Rather, if we are to read the Bible as Jesus did, the question is which texts we choose and by what criteria!

The criterion both Jesus and Paul used is love. I will develop that theme more in the blogs that follow; but here is a teaser:

"While the Pharisees were focused on strict adherence to religious rules and regulations (the “right” or “correct” reading), the priority of Jesus was instead focused on loving and caring for people in need. Clearly, the way Jesus understood faithfulness to Scripture was that it should lead to love. ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind” and “Love your neighbor as yourself’ Jesus said, ‘All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments’ (Matthew 22:37049).”[8]

How then can we continue to claim that Scripture is inspired if it truly justifies hurt and damage to people? As Christians we affirm that the Scriptures are good, intended to lead us to love. However, as history reveals, it also can be read in an abusive way. My teacher, the late Fred B. Craddock once said, “There is nothing so holy that it does not have its pornographers.” Paul also wrote, “I found that the very commandment that was intended to bring life actually brought death” (Romans 7:10).

The common denominator is love.

That’s the way 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 How to Read the Bible Like Jesus Did (San Francisco: Metanoia Press, 2014).

[2] Walter Wink, The Powers That Be: Theology for a New Millennium (New York: Galilee Doubleday, 1999).

[3] Walter Brueggemann, Theology of the Old Testament: Testimony, Dispute, Advocacy (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2005).

[4] Hermeneutic, derived from Hermes, the messenger of the gods in Greek mythology, is the process of transmitting the divine message into language and concepts that can be understood by humans. In recent generations it has become generalized to mean any process of interpretation.

[5] Flood, op. cit., Kindle Version, Location 1017.

[6] Anson Laytner, Arguing with God: A Jewish Tradition (Northvale, NJ: Jason Aronson Inc. 1990).

[7] The direct opposite of the life of faith described in II Corinthians 5:7.

[8] Derek Flood, op. cit., Kindle version, Location 967.

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.)

Into the Wilderness

My personal Lenten journey this year leads through a wilderness I’ve known but avoided for many years. Oh, I’ve taken brief day-hikes along its fringes; but never have ventured into the heart of it, and certainly not with the intention of spending forty days there!

I have a nephew who this month embarked on an ambitious effort to spend one year trying to experience what it means truly to follow Jesus. Almost three weeks into that pilgrimage he still is struggling to identify his approach. To some extent he toys with the idea of “doing” what Jesus did. For example, he plans to gather resources to feed 5,000 people.

At another level he faces the task, not so much of doing what Jesus did, but rather of being who Jesus was (is). He has chosen a mentor for each month during the year, all of whom represent a broad diversity of theological and faith perspectives. He plans to leave no stone unturned in his quest to know what it means truly to follow Jesus.

Following Jesus is also a foundation of my Lenten Journey, although mine is limited to forty days, and has a much tighter focus. The wilderness I contemplate is the diverse, apparently contradictory images of God presented in the Christian canon of Scripture (specifically the Christian Protestant canon).

Specifically, I want to address the apparent contradiction between the New Testament image of God as “Father” (actually, Jesus called God “Abba”, which is the familiar sense, like “Daddy,” or “Papa”—a loving, nurturing being), with the Old Testament image of a vengeful, spiteful, jealous warrior God (“Lord of Hosts”) who orders genocide on many occasions.

My primary resource for the journey is Derek Flood’s book, Disarming the Bible (Metanoia Books, 2014).  Flood describes three common historic approaches to resolving the apparent contradictions in Scripture.

1.       The Conservative/Fundamentalist approach, which places a premium upon defending the integrity of Scripture, sometimes at the expense of discerning its truth. Too often the defense of Scripture, while a noble intention, ends up being a defense of one’s own understanding of a specific text, which one assumes is the correct, indeed the only true understanding. In this approach it sometimes become necessary to advocate things we know are profoundly wrong in the attempt to defend the Bible.

2.      The Atheist approach, which maintains the conservative/fundamentalist approach to Scripture, but then abandons any semblance of faith altogether in an attempt to maintain some sense of moral integrity.

3.      The Liberal approach of denying the problem and simply whitewashing over the evidence. In this approach attention is directed away from the genocidal violence in Scripture, focusing instead on the mercy and social justice found in the teachings and examples of Jesus. Flood calls this approach “Cherry-Picking”, and defines it as picking out the sweet portions of Scripture and ignoring the difficult passages that seem utterly contradictory to the Gospel.

It is my expectation and my hope that Flood will further develop and critique each of the three approaches as he makes his case.

He calls for integrity in our approach, saying, “If we as progressives are going to reject violence and instead focus on mercy and social justice, then we need to have a developed interpretive[1] rationale for our reading which can stand its ground against a conservative reading that seeks to legitimize violence in God’s name. …Rather than justifying or whitewashing over the problem of violence in Scripture, we instead need to confront it, and do so from the inside, as an expression of a healthy faith.” (Kindle edition, Location 348)

Flood’s proposed approach is to discover (or hopefully rediscover) the “radical and surprising way Jesus read (Scripture).” Of course, there was no collected and canonized “Bible” at that time. There were, however, Scriptures—Holy Writ: The Torah, which is the first five “books” of what we call the Old Testament, was available in some form (whether that form had become standardized is open to question), as were some of the prophetic and wisdom writings.

We are warned at the outset that reading the Scriptures as Jesus did will not be a self-evident effort. Indeed, the way Jesus read Scripture “scandalized the religious authorities of Jesus’ time and is likely to be seen as equally subversive and ‘blasphemous’ by the religious gatekeepers today.” (Kindle edition, Location 362)

The wilderness is always intimidating; but that’s where The Adversary[2] is. The Adversary has been having its way with God’s people, dividing them over understandings of the very writings that should be uniting us. Jesus confronted The Adversary and prevailed. Will I? Will we? Will you go with me and hold my hand?

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

Together in the Walk,

Jim

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[1] Flood uses the word “hermeneutical”. It’s academic and has many facets. One can find a broad treatment of hermeneutics on “Google.”

[2] The literal translation of the word that usually is transliterated (as opposed to translated) “satan.” It carries a sense of “the attorney for the other side”.