Spirit or Scripture?

Difficult concepts occasionally occur to me. I wrestle with them, ponder them, hold them up, as an egg before a candle, and see whether or not there is life in them. One such quandary has me increasingly convinced of a troubling aspect of the Christian faith, one that, if embraced, forever changes the way we look at the Bible and its use.

Jesus did not believe in a literal application of scripture.

Throughout the liturgical church year, those who follow the Revised Common Lectionary are faced with the difficulty of Jesus rejecting that which is written in order to practice what he sees clearly as God's will. The Sermon on the Mount in Matthew or the Sermon on the Plain in Luke is a fair example. Jesus says there, "You have seen that it was written," or "You have heard that it was said." He goes on to quote from Jewish Torah or the Prophets. Then, he says, "but I say to you..." Jesus' teaching counters that which is written. He contradicts the scriptures and offers a gracious response that undoes the scriptural lesson.

This week's Gospel text is another example. In Mark 7:1-8, the Pharisees, protectors of the Temple structure and the laws that uphold it, wonder why Jesus' followers eat with defiled hands. Why do they not wash, as the law requires? Jesus' response was brilliant, a quote from Isaiah: "This people honors me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me; in vain do they worship me, teaching human precepts as doctrine." He then applies the text: "You abandon the commandments of God and hold to human traditions."

Wait, is the command to wash not in Leviticus, and elsewhere? Is the requirement not spelled out at length in the scriptures? Of course it is, but Jesus refers to such law, rule and regulation as "human precept" and "human tradition." That the restriction is included in Torah and the prophets does not impact Jesus' belief, thinking or practice. Jesus rejects a literal application of the written scripture for a kinder, gentler practice of grace and love.

I find the concept of Jesus rejecting scripture uncomfortable and challenging. Clearly, Jesus has an alternative standard of belief, thinking and practice.He does not place his trust in a literal reading of scripture as a litmus test for faithful living. This is upsetting. It is confusing.

If Jesus placed his belief, thinking and practice on a foundational other than scriptural authority and written authority, then perhaps the Church that bears his name should find the standard upon which Jesus relied. If it is not scripture, however, where does that standard lie?

I am convinced of two things: 1. The standard for Jesus' belief, thinking and practice did not lie outside of him, but was internal and personal. and 2. That standard was spiritual instead of material, intellectual or practical. In the Gospel According to Mark, Jesus is able to do what God calls him to do precisely because he is empowered by God's own Spirit. It is this spiritual presence that renders him "God's Son, in whom God is well pleased."

Jesus trusts the Spirit that directs his actions. He is intimate with its demands and applications. To put that differently, Jesus is certain that he knows God's Spirit. It is the Spirit, internal and personal, that establishes the foundation from which Jesus acts. It, alone, is the standard of Jesus' belief, thinking and practice. The Spirit requires no external instruction or limitation. In fact, to follow external regulation or instruction limits the possibility of the Spirit-at-work.

The challenge for the Church that follows Jesus Christ, instead of laws, regulations, traditions or ritual practices and incantations, is that it must base itself in the internal and personal Spirit that empowered and enabled Christ. It is that same Spirit that empowers and enables us. It is the foundation upon which we establish standards of belief, thinking and practice. That this standard remains subjective calls us to accept the diversity of possible applications, and the diversity of persons who seek to apply them.

The religious authorities of Jesus' day sought to disavow this "spiritual" foundation for the sake of their traditional, institutional, social and political faith. The Spirit freed Jesus from the law of scripture. Perhaps it can so free the Church that follows him.      

 

Belief Barriers or Bridge Builders?

The 16th century Great Reformation promised to free the Christian world from a religion of laws, rules, regulations, orders and orthodoxies. In many ways, the Reformation served as a recovery of the theology of grace and the awakening of a powerful and innovative spirituality. It's potential was unrealized, however. Within a century of its advent, the Great Reformation backtracked into denominationalism. It divided the Protestant world. It fractured the unity of spirituality in the brokenness of minute differences in orthodoxy, rule, regulation and practice. The Great Reformation fell far short of its potential as a theological recovery and a spiritual reawakening.

Far worse, the Great Reformation resulted in a religious tradition that is marked by fractured belief and divided religious opinion. Methodists do things differently from Episcopalians. The Congregationalist do things contrary to the practice of the Presbyterians. The United Church of Christ and the Disciples of Christ, despite being engaged in a decades-old attempt to unify, are divided by subtle, some would say silly, differences. Each argues with the other that their particular way of belief and practice is superior to the other. Since the Great Reformation, the Protestant world has been constructing belief barriers that have divided and separated what could have been unified.

If you want a review of the influences that led the Protestant world to revert to the divisiveness of belief barriers and sectarian practice, you will have to ask Reformation historians. Ask Adam Wirrig. If you want to understand the result of such division and separation, look no further than the Progressive Church alternative to Protestant denominationalism.

The Progressive Church invites us to focus less on what we believe, how we practice the Sacraments or rites of the faith, how we worship, what and how we sing, how we look at and recite ancient liturgies, how we shape upcoming generations to accept the faith as we have designed it, and to focus more on the outcomes of our belief and practice. What do we do? How do we live? How are we impacting those around us? How are we serving our communities?

Whereas belief builds barriers, focus on what we do unifies and universalizes. If the attention of the Progressive Church is drawn toward being like Christ instead of simply believing rightly in him, then it is the actions of the church-in-community that matters. Because ministry and mission is carried out in the name of Christ Jesus, and is therefore a service to every person in every place, without restriction or exception, a focus on what we do builds bridges across social, economic, political, racial, gender, age or life-style chasms.

The Progressive Church movement is building bridges instead of constructing belief barriers. Service to others crosses the divide and is not limited to how persons act, how they live, what they think, how they look, from whence they come, what religion they practice, if any, or their success, position or power in society.

Christ's servanthood is blind to divisiveness. So might ours be. But we have to drop the notion that the practice of our faith is an intellectual exercise or based in belief. It must be grounded in the ministry and mission of Christ Jesus, where we see ourselves as representatives, agents and ambassadors of his mercy, grace, love, compassion and forgiveness. When out attention is on how well we live up to Christ's standards of servanthood to all persons, regardless of what might otherwise divide us, we are faithful to him. Nothing else matters.

The question for today's congregations is whether we want to continue to construct belief barriers or if we are willing to be bridge builders. Can we allow our service to reach beyond a type, kind, class, race, gender, life-style, orthodoxy, rule, regulation or practice? Can we serve the needs around us, as Christ did, without distinction or division?

It is time that we move on from the denominationalism of the Great Reformation, with its resulting belief barriers, to an age of Christian servanthood. It is time for us to build bridges instead of constructing barriers.    

    

Why is Grace so Difficult?

As a philosophy, the theology of grace sounds wonderful. As an orthodoxy, it reads well. The problem with grace comes, as it does with almost any theology or philosophy, in its practical application. Why is grace so hard?

Grace says that all people, in every place, throughout time have received from God the gift of unconditional and universal salvation. It is freely given, without merit or condition of receipt or use. Grace is made available to everyone through the sacrifice of Christ Jesus. God did the work in him. No act of commission or omission can undo what God has accomplished for us in Christ. No sin is unforgivable. No personal or communal limitation is so crippling that it bars persons from access to grace. No flaw is so deep that it discredits persons.

As part of our regular 7:00 p.m. service here at Shiloh Church, those who gather discuss the evening's message, or texts, or theological/spiritual issues that had been raised. Last night, the topic was grace. Why is it so difficult, and why does no one seem to appreciate when grace is exercised?

The group surfaced three issues. Firstly, grace sounds great until one has to put it into action with someone who does not merit our forgiveness or assistance. Secondly, grace-in-action always seems to throw us into criticism, rejection, or the charge of being "liberal." Thirdly, grace always ends up costing us more than we receive in return.

What about grace in relationship with those who do not merit it? The funny thing about grace is that none of us merit it. None of us has been so perfect, so righteous, so sinless, so near to God's will for us, that we deserve the gift of salvation. We have in no way earned it. Does right belief earn us grace? Does righteous action? Does proper orthodoxy or polite deportment? No. We have not earned the grace that we have received. Why in the world should we limit grace to those who look rightly, seem good, live well or behave politely? The radical nature of grace means that it is available to precisely those who have not worked for it.

Why does grace always seem to lead to rejection or criticism? The United Church of Christ had always been on the periphery of American religious and political life. The denomination had traditionally stood with the disenfranchised, the rejected, the challenged and the maligned. Because we have stood with those on the fringes of society, the denomination placed itself on the fringes with them. Grace is fringe-work. Its very nature draws criticism. Polite society raises a collective eyebrow at those who work on the fringes. By the way, who ever said that grace would be widely accepted or popular? Certainly, neither Jesus nor Paul ever held that silly notion. Applied grace is almost always dangerous and disruptive to status quos. It is, therefore, always up for question.

Why does grace seem to be so costly? Did you ever notice that an act of grace costs the giver in direct proportion to any perceived wrong? If you are acting in forgiveness with someone who you have perceived to have done you a wrong, the cost of grace will be paid by the one doing the forgiving. Well, of course. Grace comes from the archetype of Crucifixion/Resurrection. Christ pays the cost of universal salvation by offering the gift of his own life. He paid, as it were, for us. The cost of grace is borne by the giver of grace.

Grace, while a lovely philosophy and a thrilling theology, is tremendously difficult to apply in actual, everyday living. This should not be surprising at all, since it is grounded in Christ's sacrifice. The problem lies in following him in its application  That is no small feat and should shock no one. Our faith is called Christianity, not easy-to-do-happy-fun-time. Grace requires much from us in response. Who is willing to pay the price?

Privilege

The Biblical picture of God's unfolding reign is completed when the lamb and the lion lie safely together. I think that there is a reason for that remarkably unlikely situation. In order for the lamb to lie safely with the lion, the lion must make a conscious decision to refuse to eat the lamb. In fact, the lion must make a decision to serve as protector of and security for the lamb. Only when those who have the advantages put them to work for the sake of those without the advantages can the system work for previously disadvantaged. Only when the lion takes responsibility for the safety of the lamb can the two lie together.

Now, I am a middle class white male. As such, I am advantaged. I am privileged. In this culture, I have been granted privileges that have nothing to do with my merits, character or work ethic. This truth is painful to me. As much as I want to deny it, I have begun the race well ahead of those who were not fortunate enough to be so advantaged.

I had two parents who cared about my destiny. They pushed me, and worked with me, to become well educated. They expected me to be a good person, treating people fairly and helping those who needed my assistance. I grew up in a safe environment. I did not fear for my life, or the lives of my friends and family. There were plenty of guns where I was raised, but they were used for hunting and protection instead of violence against other persons. I was always seen as a person of potential. Teachers, community leaders, my parents, friends and extended family assumed about me that, should I simply work to nurture my potential, I could do important and meaningful things in life. I was trusted, given responsibility, celebrated when I did well and guided when I did poorly.

The privilege has continued into adulthood. I have the right to assume that I will be treated with respect and integrity in the process of community interaction. I anticipate that people will respect my property and help me to safeguard my neighborhood. I have the right to my own opinion, can vote, can sign petitions, own property, establish a credit rating, read and watch what I want and cheer for whatever sports teams I so choose. I can believe in whatever god I wish, or hold that there is no god whatsoever. I have made money, not a lot, mind you, but enough to provide my daughter with an excellent education and a good start to her young, married life.

Some of this has been due to my hard work. Much of it has not.When I weigh all that I have been given, due mainly to my position in the culture, my race, my gender, my native intelligence, even my relative height (I am 6'2"), I can see that much of my advantage has come through happy accident. I am aware of and thankful for those undeserved advantages. As much as I want to claim that those privileges were available to me because of my hard work, I fully own the fact that many of them were not. I am a person of relative privilege.

I do not feel guilty, however, for the advantages that I was granted. Instead, because I am partially aware of them and thankful for them, my privilege calls me to utilize the gifts that I have been given to serve those who have not been so richly privileged. Instead of complaining that I do not have more, bigger, better, newer, more influential or more powerful, I acknowledge that the best use of what I have is in improving other lives.

While I am no lion, my appreciation for the privilege that I have been granted is spent on the lambs that appear as opportunity around me. Or so I would like to claim. Admittedly, I am only learning what it means to live in relative privilege, and to work for the benefit of the lambs that surround us. I only hope that I can do better today what I learned better how to do yesterday.