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The Village

January 31, 2015 By admin Leave a Comment

Some time ago, a movie came out that was aptly called The Village, a story about a tight-knit community whose village is surrounded on all sides by a deep, dark, and deadly forest.

Continual stories of the danger that lurks within the surrounding woods ensure that the residents don’t venture beyond the boundaries, into the woods, and ultimately through to the “outside.”

(Insert obligatory spoiler alert here)

Some of the village’s elders know the truth of what’s on the outside. It certainly isn’t all bad – some of it is actually quite good – but they prefer the controlled environment that the village gives them.

Because of what the elders deem as bad and dangerous on the outside, they propagate their carefully constructed stories, certain that it’s for the safety and betterment of the residents.

href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/127581242@N02/15773266562/"target="_blank">tommyg_83 cc — photo credit: tommyg_83 cc

Now the village isn’t a bad place. It provides the people with a great deal of safety, security, and community.

Most of the people who live there are content and don’t think twice about their lives. There’s no reason to consider that the woods aren’t truly filled with dangers, let alone consider the possibility that beyond the forest lies something amazing and beautiful and greater than what they can possibly conceive.

On the contrary, they’ve adapted to a lifestyle of reinforcing the importance of keeping a safe distance from the established boundaries.

But some of them aren’t content. Some yearn to explore, certain that there’s something more. Certain that, as great as the village is, it simply can’t represent all that life was meant to be.

Amid the people of the village, such thinking isn’t well-received. It’s threatening. It’s an indicator that someone is potentially wayward or rebellious, but most certainly in grave danger.

It’s all an interesting, almost ironic parallel to how life in Christian circles can be.

Doing life together in Christian community can be a cherished gift, provided we keep a safe distance from the edge of the woods.

Fireside chats and discussions over meals are fine as long as we don’t question the truth of the surrounding forest or speak with intrigue about what lies on the outside.

The doctrines and beliefs and creeds of Christianity – along with occasional lines drawn in the sand – all serve as boundaries that provide us with the security, certainty, and safety that we crave as people.

We can live within these boundaries, certain that we’re experiencing all there is, or at least all that we’re meant to experience. Certain that what we believe as true is not merely something we’re choosing to believe is true for us, but is ultimate truth – complete and accurate and not to be tampered with.

Just like the people in the village.

But what if something deep in our souls tells us there has to be more? Do we have the courage and faith to venture out, or do we hold back because we’re so certain of the boundaries that define and protect our village?

What if our understandings of the village and the surrounding dangers have been misshaped, whether intentionally or not?

What if there’s actually something out there worth leaving the safety of the village for?

And what if the creatures lurking in the dark forest aren’t nearly as dangerous as we’ve been led to believe or don’t truly exist in the ways we’ve thought?

I relate to it all.

To the safety of the village. The security of established boundaries. The fear of the forest.

And the potentially risky question of “Is this really all there is?”

I’m getting very close to publishing my book, Brand New Day: How Questioning the Answers Rocked My World, Reformed My Faith, and Released My Soul.

I invite you to check it out, especially if you can relate to the scenario of the village or the question of whether there’s more.

For When You Eat of It

December 6, 2014 By admin Leave a Comment

One morning several months ago, I was lying in my hammock and I pulled up a guided meditation playlist. I pressed “shuffle,” closed my eyes, and tuned out the world as a meditation by Deepak Chopra on the subject of judgment began to play.

I listened intently as he mentioned that the need to judge others can be a form of defense, and my interest was piqued when he indicated that judging others comes with consequences.

“When you judge someone, it makes another person wrong. Someone else is wrong to feel a certain way, to look a certain way, to hold certain opinions… Judgment immediately creates separation… The same walls that keep other people away also shut off the flow of spirit.”

What struck me in particular was his comment about shutting off the flow of spirit. I realize that the term “the flow of spirit” sounds a little ethereal – perhaps a little too new-agey or “woo woo” to give it serious thought at first.

But what was fascinating is that not long before I heard this meditation, I’d read about how our thoughts and emotions can get stored up inside of us, literally creating energy blockages that keep things from flowing within us as they should. Blockages that have the ability to wreak havoc on our health and well-being. In other words, you could say that the flow of spirit gets shut off.

As I pondered this, I considered the words of Jesus as written in the gospel of Matthew. “Do not judge or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.”

The notion of energy blockages at the core of our being and shutting off the flow of spirit puts a whole new perspective on these words of Jesus.

When we judge others, we can’t escape being judged. Maybe it’s not in the ways we traditionally think of, but if being judgmental can create a form of negative energy that’s in some way toxic, who’s it going to affect? If I’m the one doing the judging, it’s going to affect me. And the greater the intensity behind my thoughts and emotions, the greater the toxic effect on me and on the flow of my spirit. “With the measure you use, it will be measured to you.”

All of this had taken root in the back of my mind and had given me much to think about. Then one day, I was hanging out with some friends and we were talking about the challenges that can arise from taking everything in the Bible literally. One of the women shared how she had recently read about how the Adam and Eve story from Genesis was actually about judgment.

I was perplexed at first. It was a difficult idea to wrap my mind around, probably because in Christian circles, the focus of the story is on sin and disobedience.

I’ve often heard that the whole reason the tree was off limits to begin with was because that was God’s way of giving Adam and Eve the choice to love God or not. And by choosing disobedience, they chose sin, which destroyed the relationship with God. Then we extrapolate the idea that God can’t be in the presence of sin so he kicked them out of the garden.

But is it possible that judgment is the point of the Adam and Eve story? The more I meditated on the idea, the more it began to make sense and the clearer it became. In fact, it soon became an incredibly illuminating interpretation of the story, one that makes far more sense than the traditional one. Let’s think about this.

God tells Adam, “You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat of it, you will surely die.”

One can’t help but wonder why God wouldn’t want Adam and Eve to know the difference between good and evil. It’s hard to see the downside to that, especially when you consider that one of the first things we attempt to teach our kids is what’s good and what’s bad.

But if we view all of this through the lenses of judgment, it makes sense.

We judge others when we start categorizing their actions or beliefs as right or wrong, good or evil. Interpreting the Adam and Eve story this way says that people weren’t created to judge others. That’s why God forbade them to eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.

Judgment was something that was meant to be reserved for God and God alone. Because, as Deepak said in the meditation I referenced earlier, judgment creates separation and can ultimately shut off the flow of spirit.

It’s interesting that God says the consequence of eating from the tree is death. “When you eat of it, you will surely die.”

Obviously, they didn’t die in a literal sense, so we’re left to ponder what this meant. The typical explanation is spiritual death: Adam and Eve were separated from God due to their sin. This separation would be handed down and persist throughout time, only to be finally dealt with by the atoning death of Jesus on the cross – but even then, only for those who respond appropriately.

It’s a reasonable conclusion within the confines of Christianity.

Yet, I’m left to wonder what the story would’ve meant to the original audience. Because the Adam and Eve story was written at a particular place and time, for specific people. And although there is certainly a timeless quality to it, I can’t believe that the primary point of the story is something that would make sense only when viewed through the lenses of things that developed hundreds – if not thousands – of years later. Things like atonement theology and the doctrine of original sin.

Things that simply couldn’t have possibly had meaning to the original hearers.

And so I circle back to the idea of judgment and I ponder the words “When you eat of it, you will surely die.” And in the framework of judgment, those words make a lot of sense. Because judgment creates separation.

It builds walls, causes distance, erodes community, and destroys intimacy. “We” becomes “us” and “them.” And often times “they” are only truly worthy if they’ll become like “us.” Judgment can even keep us from extending compassion because of how easy it is for us to think of all the reasons why the situation or person doesn’t deserve our compassion.

And when any of this happens, the very essence of our humanity begins to die. And if we’re living devoid of our humanity, are we truly living?

These days, we understand science and we have mind-boggling technology and eye-opening research. We can say “When you think or feel a certain way, it affects you in a massive way.” And we can go on to talk about energy blockages and cellular makeup and physiology and how at the quantum level all things are connected. All things. And we have empirical evidence to prove it all.

So we point to this evidence, imploring people to be very careful about how they live and the thoughts they think and the choices they make because there are ramifications, whether we can see them or not.

It’s as though the author of this ancient story wanted to implore the same things, but since he didn’t have our modern knowledge and terminology, he simply used the medium of the time – story – to convey the point. “Don’t do this or you will die.”

So I chew on all of this and I circle back to the words of Jesus in the gospel of Matthew. “Do not judge or you too will be judged.”

Then I flip over to the gospel of Luke, where the author placed this teaching alongside “love your enemies,” expanding it and rendering it as “Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven. Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.”

These words come alive in a completely new way and with a depth that I’ve never known.

And it makes me consider the types of judging that can be very common within Christianity. Who’s right, who’s wrong. Who’s in, who’s out. Who’s a true believer, who’s not. Who’s saved, who’s lost.

And I reflect on how I’ve been taught at times that God actually expects us to make some of these kinds of judgments.

Was judgment the original point of the Adam and Eve story? Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t.

But as I consider everything – the words of Jesus, the original audience of Genesis 3, shutting off the flow of spirit – the more I realize that I, too, would do well to avoid that fruit tree.

“For when you eat of it, you will surely die.”

Lobsters in the Hands of an Angry God

September 25, 2014 By admin Leave a Comment

Not long ago, I came across an article about gay marriage that someone had posted on Facebook. I wasn’t interested and I would’ve skimmed right over the entire post if the person hadn’t introduced it by saying “God says it’s an abomination.”

I couldn’t help but jump into the thread and drop a comment about shrimp, not to incite a war, but to simply make a point. Several other people jumped into what promptly became a lively and opinionated thread, but, unfortunately, just when it started getting really good, the person deleted the post.

It’s not uncommon for Christians to couple the term “abomination” with homosexuality, usually insisting “God says” or “God thinks,” as if they’re merely doing everyone a favor by upholding God’s clear, unchanging moral standard – one that’s been around since time immemorial. Comments like this even come authoritatively from the pulpit. I’m convinced this is partly why some people want nothing to do with Christianity and partly why God has such a bad reputation.

For starters, before we go around insisting that God thinks homosexuality is an abomination (or that it’s detestable, depending on which translation of the Bible is being referred to), it would be wise to consider some of the other things in the Old Testament laws that are also considered an “abomination.” Things like eating shellfish or certain types of birds or animals. Women wearing men’s clothing. A man having sex with his wife (or wives, as the case may very well have been) during her menstrual period.

Let’s be honest. No one is picketing Red Lobster, passionately insisting that the patrons are detestable in the eyes of God. I personally lean toward thinking shellfish is detestable and I’d take a bacon cheeseburger over lobster anytime. But just because I can’t stand the stuff doesn’t mean I should insist that God says it’s detestable and attempt to bind it on other people.

The Old Testament laws can be some of the most confusing and misunderstood parts of the Bible. And it’s potentially very dangerous.

Here’s one thing that’s important to realize. The laws served a very specific purpose at the time. And although some of them were very progressive for the time and separated the people of Israel from surrounding nations in a very positive way, many of them were not unique at all to the nation of Israel. Anyone familiar with Old Testament laws will notice similarities to those found in surrounding nations. These other legal codes predate the biblical ones and include things like making amends for accidentally flooding a neighbor’s crops or maiming a hired ox, as well as governing sexual relations. Correct; the death penalty as punishment for a man having sex with certain family members or animals didn’t originate with the Law of Moses.

Regardless of how common or unique or progressive any given law may have been, a casual glance at these laws makes it clear that they were not meant to have the word “timeless” attached in any way.

Many of the laws related to real-world medical and scientific conditions, often involving natural consequences. If we can approach them with these things in mind, at least some of them can begin to make more sense, and they can be removed from the framework that leaves us believing that they somehow represent God’s personal feelings about a given matter. Let me illustrate.

When I was in my early twenties, I went to Puerto Vallarta with my parents and two brothers. On our second night, we left the remote resort where we were staying and meandered along a dirt road that wound up the nearby hillside of the jungle. There were chickens running across the road and little kids playing in puddles.

After a bit of a walk, we rounded a bend and moseyed up a final stretch of dirt road, which brought us to our destination: an open-air, rooftop restaurant with stunning views. Nestled against the thick trees and with sand floors, the restaurant made it seem like we were dining in a ginormous tree, a feeling that was reinforced by a massive thatched roof that felt like a canopy of tree branches, where strings of lights hung and began twinkling as the sun sank beyond the distant horizon.

Let me just say that if you ever have a chance to eat in a restaurant that makes you feel like you’re dining in a massive tree, by all means, do it. It was an amazing experience. Mostly.

My dad and one of my brothers ordered the fresh lobster. When it arrived, it wasn’t just the tail; the entire crustacean was served in a stunning visual presentation. As one who finds lobster detestable, I didn’t order it, and it’s a good thing. Even though they both raved about how good it was, something bad transpired. Either the lobster wasn’t cooked properly or my dad and brother somehow nibbled beyond the tail and into the abdomen (the dim, atmospheric lighting and the pina coladas the size of your head may have both played into the latter). They both got extremely sick and the illness lasted several days, putting quite a damper on the rest of the trip.

Whatever the details and regardless of whose “fault” it was, this unique dining experience gone horribly wrong could’ve been avoided altogether if all parties were simply holding to a law that says shellfish is detestable and needs to be avoided. Avoiding the creatures completely makes sense when their improper ingestion could be fatal.

Such a practical cause-and-effect example can begin to shed a tiny bit of light on at least some of these Old Testament laws. In this instance, avoiding shellfish was merely the safest option for the people at the time. Eating it wasn’t an “abomination” because it was somehow in conflict with a certain level of ordained holiness or morality (PETA might disagree, but you get my point). The whole thing has nothing to do with offending God, as though God has an ego.

I think it would help us to realize that we’re approaching these texts on the heels of thousands of years of developing theology and tradition. We’re seeing them through lenses we don’t even realize we’re wearing. And many of these things draw us further and further away from anything that resembles the original purpose or context of the text.

Some of what I’ve studied shows that these laws were originally understood as having medical or scientific meanings and only became theological in nature over time. The same goes for some of the associated language. “Unclean” didn’t always mean somehow being stained or corrupted in the eyes of God. And “atonement” didn’t always mean some form of making up for one’s sins in order to appease God. It’s a bit mind boggling, but it’s absolutely fascinating and it opens up a completely new world of understanding.

medium_2594318333 — Photo credit: mugley cc

But here we are, thousands of years later, and none of that information makes its way down from the pulpit or into Christian devotional books. Sure, we’ve got apologists who are quick to point out the medical accuracy of some of the Old Testament laws in an effort to prove the Bible is “true,” but I’ve never heard one of them indicate that terms like unclean, holy, and atonement originally had medical or scientific meanings and that the theological interpretations came much later.

Meanwhile, we’re left with a deeply flawed view of God that’s been etched into much of Western Christianity. And because we’re clueless to that fact, we have zealous ministers preaching sermons like “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God” and we go around authoritatively wielding terms like “abomination” on God’s behalf because we’re certain we know what we’re talking about.

There is much to be said and studied about the Law of Moses, but it’s clear that it wasn’t a timeless code of morality, nor did it reflect God’s personal and unchanging feelings about matters. We have got to move beyond seeing these laws as such. And perhaps more importantly, we need to let go of the idea that God was somehow personally disappointed or offended by the lack of adherence to these laws as though they somehow exemplified a standard of behavior required to keep God happy and content.

My passion about this is only partly because no one should be branded with a term like “abomination.” That’s hugely valid, for sure. But of greater importance, in my opinion, is that such an understanding of these laws says an enormous amount about who we believe God is. We give God an ego and extrapolate all kinds of beliefs accordingly. Beliefs that can sneak into the core of who we are and shape us in unhealthy ways. Beliefs that tell us God has always had extremely high expectations for our behavior, requiring sacrifices or even death to be appeased.

I’m not attempting to imply that how we behave doesn’t matter. That’s not what this is about. It’s about attempting to shed a tiny bit of light on what these laws were and weren’t, as well as standing firmly by the notion that the Law of Moses does not somehow reflect a snapshot of timeless, unchanging truth or morality.

Many things may lead someone to think it’s responsible to treat the law about two men lying together as a clear, timeless moral expectation by God, all the while happily discarding laws that might impinge on our all-you-can-eat shrimp dinners, but it’s not responsible. At all. In fact, it’s a hugely irresponsible use of the scriptures.

We’re all entitled to our own opinions about things like shellfish, homosexuality, and whether kids should be stoned for disobedience, but we need to own them as our personal opinions and do away with the insistence that God has clearly always felt a certain way about them.

It’s no wonder the terms “God” and “Christian” often breed hostility.