Bible | Questioning the Answers

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.

If Only

August 20, 2014 By admin Leave a Comment

A while back, I was at a church service and at one point the worship leader read the words of Jesus from Matthew 22:

“‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”

After quoting the passage, he went on to say that the entire Bible could be boiled down to these verses.

Several people uttered “amen” and although I agreed wholeheartedly, on the inside, I felt my heart sink a little as I thought “If only…”

If only we truly believed that.

If only we lived as though the Bible really could be boiled down to these few verses.

If only these two commands could be the barometer not only for how we express our faith, but how we define it.

If only we could consider that part of the power and supreme importance of these commands lie in the fact that they transcend doctrine and denomination and religion altogether.

If only we could consider how this teaching may have affected those who initially heard it.

Humor me while we think about that last one for a minute. Let’s say I happened to be present when Jesus spoke these words and I was captured as I considered the intensity of a teaching that claimed that all of the law and the prophets – in other words, the equivalent at the time of our Bible – could be summed up by these verses. And if I made the radical step to live the rest of my life accordingly, would that have been enough?

Even if I never heard another thing about Jesus – how or why he ultimately died, or whether he was thought to be just a rabbi, or a messiah, or somehow divine. I’m not sure how likely such a scenario would be, but it’s not out of the question to consider it and then go on to ponder, “Would that have been enough?”

According to Jesus, it would’ve been, especially if we consider that the gospel of Luke places these commandments in the context of how to inherit eternal life. Jesus responds, “Do this and you will live.”

If it was good enough for the people following Jesus then, is it not good enough for us now?

It’s hard to know what kind of widespread impact such a teaching had on those who heard it, but it must’ve had an impact on at least some the early followers of Jesus. In a previous post, I talked briefly about the Didache, a church handbook that likely dates to the first century and that gives us a compelling look at the teachings and practices of some of the earliest Jesus followers.

Interestingly enough, the Didache calls out “the way of life” and “the way of death.” The way of life begins by loving God, loving your neighbor as yourself, and not doing to others what you would not want done to you. Ironically, for these Jesus followers, the ways of life and death had nothing to do with orthodox beliefs or doctrines. Things were much simpler hundreds of years before a Bible was canonized and creeds were formulated.

But here we are 2,000 years later. And as nice it sounds to sum the Bible up with the two greatest commands as identified by Jesus, it simply doesn’t work for us. It’s as though we have to define what it means to love God properly, and, in doing so, we create the very structures and doctrines and systems of belief that love is supposed to transcend; indeed, that love has the power to completely obliterate… if we’d allow it to. But instead, we effectively create a whole new version of “the law and prophets,” perhaps because we don’t believe that everything will be just fine if only we’d love God and love our neighbors as ourselves.

This is all particularly relevant in my life right now. For whatever reason, God has brought me beyond the boundaries of the Christian box where I’ve spent most of my life. Of course I didn’t realize I was in a box; I don’t think any of us ever do. And I didn’t set out to venture here, but I’m here, having been pressed to truly engage some hard questions and to probe the status quo of my belief system. And at times it’s been terrifying, largely because where I come from, that’s not okay. (Well, it’s okay as long as you ultimately return to the established answers and beliefs.)

No one wants to mess with the box. I certainly didn’t. And I think it’s because we don’t see it as a box; we see it as ultimate truth.

Frankly, the whole situation just sucks.

It sucks because I’ve invested so much of my life into a church family where there simply isn’t room to grow beyond the established ideas, conclusions, and doctrines (in other words, beyond the boundaries of the box that are defined as truth).

It sucks that even though I’ve invested years and years and years, there’s no possibility that there might be some merit to my evolving views. No possibility that I’ve come to new conclusions responsibly and faithfully.

And it sucks to be backed into a figurative corner and effectively told “It’s not okay to believe those things and it’s even less okay to make those beliefs public. If you want to stick around here, you have to believe X, Y, and Z. These things are non-negotiable.”

And, as if all of that’s not enough, it sucks that now I’m somehow seen as a threat by some because I have “divergent views.”

Divergent views that ironically don’t conflict at all with loving God and loving my neighbor as myself.

Divergent views that couldn’t have even been an issue when Jesus was traipsing around Palestine because they’re only in conflict with doctrines or teachings that developed much later.

But as much as it sucks, I get it.

I understand that, to some extent, there’s an institution that needs to be protected. And I get that people’s faith is in differing places and we need to be sensitive to that, not randomly wreaking havoc on the faith of others.

As one author put it, the challenge is that we end up teaching to the lowest common denominator in order to avoid ruffling the feathers of people in the congregation. It hardly seems fair. Stuff that’s been common knowledge throughout biblical scholarship for centuries doesn’t make it to the average church member (for any number of reasons). And it’s unfortunate, because it has the potential to help our faith grow in amazing ways. And if we engage it responsibly, it doesn’t have to be scary or threatening. It might make us rethink some of our certainties, but history has shown us that that’s usually not a bad thing. It’s just not easy.

In fact, one minister I was talking with fully acknowledged that there may not be anything wrong with these so-called divergent views. If people want to dive into doctrines or some of the deeper topics and they ultimately come to a differing opinion that doesn’t mesh with a traditional view, that’s okay. The problem is, in order for ministers to truly understand these things so they can bring a responsible understanding of them to the congregation, it takes work. A lot of it.

Plus, it can potentially get very messy and uncomfortable, which creates even more work as feathers get ruffled within the congregation. And who wants extra work? As a result, many topics get avoided altogether as staff members opt to keep the message from the pulpit as simple as possible.

Unfortunately, it puts people with said divergent views in a tricky spot, because when differing views haven’t been engaged from the pulpit, they’re seen as threatening. And if word gets out, it can get messy, which means more work for the minister.

And so, the easiest and cleanest way to deal with a situation like this is to say, “It’s not okay to believe these things and it’s even less okay to make these beliefs public. Either toe the party line or leave so as to not disturb anyone else.”

Sigh. Really? Those are the only options, lest I end up being marked as “divisive”?

So here I am on the heels of such a mess, trying to process the conflicting and at times overwhelming emotions that come raging in like a tidal wave.

Anger. Rage. Sorrow. Pain. Confusion.

In some ways, it feels what I imagine a divorce might feel like. An unnecessary divorce, at that.

Plenty of people have pointed out that it’s best this way. It’s best to be in an environment where my path is not only welcomed, but encouraged, perhaps even celebrated. An environment where questions aren’t seen as a threat and where faith is greater than doctrine and tradition.

And many have posed the question of why I’d want to even try to be somewhere that doesn’t allow that.

Yeah, yeah, yeah – I get it. And I agree wholeheartedly. But it still sucks, because the pain isn’t any less real.

And as I try to process it all, I circle back to the words of Jesus.

“‘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.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”

And I think “If only…”

If only.