It looks like I'm done with blogging. It looks like I'm done, but I'm not.
What's happened is I've been horrifically busy these past three months. Working 12-hour days. Buying and maintaining a car. Planning my future.
More than that, I've been in a writing slump for some time now. I attribute this partially to my ever-rising editorial standards - my posts are generally shorter than they were when I began but take much longer to write, and many never get published. The other difficulty is that I've been coming to some conclusions.
You might think that having decided a few things would make it easier to write, but this seems not to be the case. I've always found it easier express confusion or disagreement than to put forth my own position. When presenting my own views I feel like I should be some kind of expert - if not on the subjects of my opinions, then at least on my opinions themselves. If I think something, I should be able to express it, right? Well, it's hard.
But I think the time is right to try. This blog has always been about my search for a spiritual je ne sais quoi - the god or truth or purpose without which I felt alone or lost or unfulfilled. The loneliness and lostness and unfulfillment has diminished over the past four years, to the point that I am no longer searching in the way that I was then, and so I think it is time to bring this blog to a proper close. Despite the fact that the object of my search remains (and I think will always remain) somewhat unknowable and inexpressible.
I should have said that it's almost time to conclude this blog. Time continues to be a scarcity. I'm rushing off to camp for the remainder of the summer, but I will make a determined effort to return in the fall, and then I will tell you what there is to tell.
[+/-] The Once and Future Blogger |
[+/-] Prophecy and Inerrancy |
I apologize for the lack of posting of late. I have plenty to write about, but school's been taking up a lot of my time. They're making me write essays, if you can believe it.
I'm taking a Religious Studies course on Jesus, and I've been doing a little research on the infant narratives in Matthew and Luke. Here's what my textbook (Howard Clark Kee: Jesus in History) has to say about Matthew's version of events:
Each of these "historical" moves was ultimately dictated... by the divine plan laid down in Scripture. The return from Egypt is said to be the fulfillment of Hosea 11:1. The grief of the mothers whose children were slain by Herod is seen as predicted in Jeremiah 31:15. The move to Nazareth is said to accord with "what was spoken by the prophets": "He shall be called a Nazarene" (Matt. 2:23). There is no text corresponding to this declaration, but it is likely a reference to Isaiah 11:1, as noted below.(Links and paragraphs added.)
Matthew has no interest in the actual historical events in biblical times out of which the prophets spoke these words, nor does he make any attempt to show a direct correlation between the historical events in biblical times and the situation in the time of Jesus. Hosea was describing the Exodus from Egypt, when God delivered his people ("my son") and led them into the land of Palestine. Jeremiah's words probably refer to the fall of the northern kingdom of Israel in 722 B.C.E., some 100 years before his own time. Jeremiah's prophecies come from the last quarter of the seventh century B.C.E., shortly before Judah, the southern kingdom, likewise fell.
The word Nazarene does not occur in the Hebrew Bible, but is probably traced to Isaiah 11:1, where the shoot (nester) from the stump of Jesse is mentioned as God's agent in establishing his just rule on earth. The metaphor in Isaiah is that of a tree cut down, which signifies the end of the Davidic dynasty. The prophet foresees the appearance, from the seemingly lifeless stump, of a shoot that will both signal and effect the reestablishment of the Kingdom. Conceivably, Mathew could have found in this prophetic word a prediction pointing to the kingly role that was assigned by Christians to Jesus. Instead, Matthew used the Isaiah 11 passage to prove that it was ordained in Scripture that Jesus' residence should be in Nazareth. (The Hebrew letters would be n-ts-r; the language was written in consonants, and the reader supplied the vowels; hence, Na-TSa-Rene.)
The writer of Matthew did not ask what Isaiah intended by his words; he was interested in finding what they might mean to him and his readers. Since the Bible was held to be divinely inspired, its sacred letters were subject to multiple interpretations, limited only by the talent and ingenuity of the interpreter. The discovery of obscure meanings in Scripture was regarded as a tribute to its divine origin, not a falsification of the intention of the biblical writer. The question of the Old Testament writers' intentions was for Matthew as well as for Jewish interpreters of his age an irrelevant one, because they believed that the God who had spoken through the prophets in the past was still in control of human affairs and was shaping them in accord with his own purpose, which the skillful interpreter of scripture could discern in the present and correlate with the writings from the ancient past. What was significant was continuity of divine purpose, not precision of historical knowledge.
I noticed years ago that Matthew's Old Testament "prophecies" often don't say what he claims they do. (The famous "virgin" birth prophecy is another good example.) At first I though Matthew is simply lying. From a modern western perspective, Matthew's creative exegesis looks like an effort to dupe ill-informed readers into the conviction that Jesus fulfilled Messianic credentials laid down centuries before.
But of course, Matthew was neither modern nor western, and he wrote according to the the literary and scholarly conventions of his own time and culture. As strange as it seems to us, his complete disregard for the intended meaning of the texts he quotes would have been quite legitimate in the eyes of his Jewish contemporaries.
Part of the problem is that Matthew's understanding of words like "prophecy" and "fulfill" are somewhat different from our own. His account of Jesus' birth and early years is designed to recall that of the nation of Israel (a dreamer named Joseph, the journey to Egypt and back again, escape from a fearful king who kills baby boys) and establish Jesus as both the Messianic King and a sort of new Moses. Matthew quotes from the scriptures in order to underline these similarities, and would have understood them more as prefigurations of Jesus than as predictions.
This is why I think the doctrine of inerrancy (at least in its popular form) misses the point: it assumes that the Bible conforms to modern logic and literary conventions that were completely unfamiliar to its authors and intended readers. If we want to assess (or assert) the truth of an ancient document, we must consider the way it was intended to be true, not the way we would like it to be true.
Of course, this isn't easy to determine. Like anything thousands of years old, we don't have a precise understanding of ancient Hebrew culture, logic, or literary genres. It's unclear exactly what sort of apparent errors or untruths (from a modern perspective) might have been acceptable to the various intended readers of the scriptures. Chronological adjustments? Misleading prophecies? Historical inaccuracies? Embellishments and extrapolations? Theological discrepancies? (I may deal with some of these points in subsequent posts.) Whatever conclusions we may reach, it's clear that a good dose of humility is required.
But whether or not the Bible is true in the ways that the authors intended it to be, or (still more difficult to discern) in the ways that God intended it to be, this much is clear: it was not written with our modern assumptions and expectations in mind.
9 comments:
I was suprised to learn recently that many of the early church fathers favored "metaphorical" understandings of portions of scripture. I'd always thought that "fundamentalism" was the standard church view until recenly, but I was way off.
Fundamentalism usually develops when a group feels that the world is chnaging in a way that they do not like or do not want to deal with. It usually represents an attempt to "circle the wagons" to keep out people who don't agree with "us".
In the present American case, fundamentalism as a reactionary force only really got its strength after the Scopes "monkey" trial, which, BTW, the fundies actually won in the legal sense. But they were portrayed as a bunch of ignorant hicks who couldn't keep up with the modern world, so successfully that they retreated into an "I don't care what they all say" mode, and never came back out. The "fundamentals" had been written up about 50 years earlier and actually energized a huge spiritual revival that sent missionaries out all over the world, particularly into China - but, after Scopes, the movement retreated into self-pity and never recovered.
Horseman Bree, from RLP
So what other virgin birth might Isaiah be talking about? Actually, the primary meaning of the Hebrew word alma which Christian translators generally render as "virgin" is "young woman". If Isaiah had meant "virgin", he probably would have used the word betula, which appears much more frequently in the OT (including Isaiah 23:12, 37:22, and 47:1).
Curiously, the Septuagint (pre-NT Greek translation of the OT) renders alma as parthenos - virgin. Matthew was probably familiar with the original Hebrew, but quotes from the Greek text, which supports his interpretation.
The prophecy may in fact refer to a woman who was currently a virgin, but who would later conceive in the conventional way (perhaps Isaiah's betrothed - cf. 8:3). Or it's simply a young married woman.
The name Immanuel ("God is with us") is meant to assure the king that God would not abandon Judah to its enemies, not to suggest that the child himself would be divine.
This prophecy was never considered Messianic by the Jews. Immaculate conception, divine incarnation and multiple persons of the godhead have nothing to do with the Messianic hope (or Judaism in general) although these elements would have been familiar enough from Gentile religions. Matthew, the most Jewish of the Gospel writers, uses passages such as this one to bolster Jesus' credibility as the Jewish Messiah.
Other well-known prophecies applied to Jesus (e.g. Psalm 22, Isaiah's servant songs) fit much better, but were never considered Messianic by the Jews. The list of accepted Messianic prophecies fulfilled by Jesus is quite short.
But I have some respect for Matthew's point here: the story of Jesus (as he tells it) has many parallels in the OT. Who am I to say that Matthew is wrong to apply Isaiah 7:14 to Jesus?
I have no trouble with people who see a parallel here, or even believe that in some sense this verse predicts Jesus' virgin birth. As long as they don't think it says right there in Isaiah, plain as day, that a virgin would conceive a divine child.
[+/-] The Things He Reads |
I figured it's time I plugged my friend Raskolnikov's blog, which is comprised almost entirely of excerpts from books he reads. This appeals to me on three levels.
First of all, the blog is a good resource. Sometimes a passage gives you a better feel for a book than a dust jacket blurb or endorsement. If you're an avid reader, I'm sure some of it will pique your interest. And if you're not the sort who's likely to pick up something by, say, Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, you may still be interested in reading a snippet of his writing that someone else found interesting.
Raskolnikov's project is also interesting to me because it's a kind of an anti-blog. It seems the blogosphere (and indeed, a fair chunk of the internet in general) is primarily a mechanism for broadcasting the thoughts, opinions and experiences of anyone with enough free time and self-importance to proclaim them.* In such a culture a mysterious, apparently Russian bookworm, a man (woman?) who resists entirely the urge to rant, ramble or pontificate on whatever strikes his fancy, who presents instead the thoughts of better thinkers, the words of better writers, is something of an anti-hero. A rascal, if you will.
And sometimes when I read this blog I feel a little of what I've felt in the presence of a Torah scroll. I sense a kind of holiness in copied words that is lost in printing presses and electronic databases. I'm not sure how well I can articulate this, but I feel like there's inherent value in copying out a text - value beyond whatever readers may get out of it. I guess I see it as a way of identifying oneself with the words, something like repeating liturgy or submitting to religious rules. Maybe I'm making too much of this - in my experience, actually copying texts is pretty mundane. But I guess most spiritual disciplines, in practice, feel mundane to me.
*My opinion of we bloggers is not so bleak as this paragraph might suggest. There are two sides to the coin. But it's refreshing to me to read a blog so free of the (often unwarrented) self-interest that seems to be inherent in the medium.
2 comments:
- It hurts
so as self-important blogging is, I am going to stick to my own words.
Thanks for the link.
[+/-] The Word made Flesh |
From Come Be My Light, part of a poem by Mother Teresa in response to Jesus' question, "Who do you say that I am?" (Mt 16:15):
Jesus is the Word made Flesh.
Jesus is the Bread of Life.
Jesus is the Victim offered for our sins on the Cross.
Jesus is the Sacrifice offered at the Holy Mass
for the sins of the world and mine.
Jesus is the Word--to be spoken.
Jesus is the Truth--to be told.
Jesus is the Way--to be walked.
Jesus is the Light--to be lit.
Jesus is the Life--to be lived.
Jesus is the Love--to be loved.
Jesus is the Joy--to be shared.
Jesus is the Peace--to be given.
Jesus is the Bread of Life--to be eaten.
Jesus is the Hungry--to be fed
Jesus is the Thirsty--to be satiated.
Jesus is the Naked--to be clothed.
Jesus is the Homeless--to be taken in.
Jesus is the Sick--to be healed.
Jesus is the Lonely--to be loved.
Jesus is the Unwanted--to be wanted.
Jesus is the Leper--to wash his wounds.
Jesus is the Beggar--to give him a smile.
Jesus is the Drunkard--to listen to him.
Jesus is the Retarded--to protect him.
Jesus is the Little One--to embrace him.
Jesus is the Blind--to lead him.
Jesus is the Dumb--to speak for him.
Jesus is the Crippled--to walk with him.
Jesus is the Drug Addict--to befriend him.
Jesus is the Prostitute--to remove from danger and befriend.
Jesus is the Prisoner--to be visited.
Jesus is the Old--to be served.
It reminds me of that story from Matthew 25 (the implications of which struck me a few years ago).
If you're aware of the central theme of this book - Mother Teresa's spiritual darkness - you would probably assume that the title is her plea to God. In fact, the opposite is true. "Come, be My light" were the words by which Christ called Mother Teresa to Calcutta.
I think the call can be understood in two ways. The obvious meaning is that Mother Teresa was to be a conduit of Christ's light to the poor, through her compassion and service. As she says above, "Jesus is the Light--to be lit."
But the latter part of the poem reveals a second meaning: Jesus is not only the source of the light but also, in some sense, the one to whom we bring light. When we feed and clothe and love other people, in a very real sense we are feeding and clothing and loving Christ.
This is something I need to work on - seeing Jesus in the people around me, and especially those in need. There is no need for me to discern who is deserving of my love. Every day I see Christ, as Mother Teresa said, in many "distressing disguises". My highest calling is to love him with all my heart, soul, mind and strength, however he may present himself to me.
I pray that my eyes may be opened, to see the Word made Flesh.
3 comments:
"What is needed is a realization that power without love is reckless and abusive, and love without power is sentimental and anemic. Power at its best is love implementing the demands of justice, and justice at its best is power correcting everything that stands against love."
—Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
But I agree that much of what we commonly call love is sentimental and anemic, because we do not choose to act upon it. Goodwill and feelings of passion or compassion don't amount to much if they do not cause us to practice love with whatever power we possess.
If I "love" my wife, but treat her like crap, what good does it do anyone? If a student irritates me to no end, but I continue to treat him with respect and compassion, si that not a more "real" expression of love? I think so...
I'm hoping it works the same way when it comes to God. I have trouble feeling "love" for God, because he's invisible and scary and runs the universe without asking for my imput. But I can try to obey God, to serve God... hopefully that counts.
[+/-] Come Be My Light |
I've been reading Come Be My Light - a sort of spiritual biography of Mother Teresa, based on her personal letters. These letters reveal that despite a dramatic call from God to ministry in Calcutta, Mother Teresa abruptly ceased to feel his presence when she arrived, and conducted the rest of her life in spiritual darkness and sorrow. (An article in Time offers more details. Via Michigan.)
I found the book less challenging and inspiring than I'd hoped - I am so unlike Mother Teresa that I scarcely believe we're of the same species, and I could no more love like her than write like Shakespeare. And while she and I have both experienced disappointment with God, hers was vastly different in content, degree and duration. The book is interesting (if a bit slow-moving) and has certainly increased my respect - nay, awe - of Mother Teresa, but at the expense of any hope I had of relating or empathizing with her.
More than ever I understand the impulse to pray to saints. Mother Teresa reached a peace about her inner darkness and saw her suffering as a means for God to bring others to salvation. On the back cover is this quote: "If I ever become a Saint--I will surely be one of 'darkness.' I will continually be absent from Heaven--to light the light of those in darkness on earth."
It reminded me of the Buddhist idea of a Bodhisattva: a person who achieves enlightenment (Buddhahood) but who refrains from entering Nirvana indefinitely in order to free others from suffering. (It also reminds me of the first verses of Romans 9, my least favorite chapter in the Bible, in which Paul makes a statement so powerful and so beautiful that I almost forgive him the rest.) Greater love, I contend, has no one than this.
I said earlier that I can hardly believe I'm of the same species as Mother Teresa. But I am, and that's the whole point. She was no angel-messenger come down from heaven. No god among mortals, no Word-made-flesh. She was a woman. A mortal like myself, and a sinner. However different she was in her character, experiences and actions, we are somehow of the same essence, and I feel a kinship with her that I could have with no higher being. Transcendent in love and holiness, she is near to me yet in her frailty and finitude.
Pray for me, Mother. Saint of Darkness, be my light.
3 comments:
Either that or all of us have the potential to be a mother Theresa figure in the world, and most of us are wasting our lives being average. How depressing.
Good thing, too. Otherwise it would be pretty easy to judge my brother who loves less than I do.
In anycase, please, email me back.
Thank You
[+/-] Community |
Well, I'm back. I don't know if I'm going to keep doing this or what. I've got things to write about, but I don't know if I have the time or the motivation. We'll see how it goes.
What I've been thinking about most recently is community, as it pertains to Christian life. Winter Camp, as usual, was amazing. I seem to be at my best when I'm at camp. I don't think this is unusual.
It seems like we tend to separate community from the rest of life. We go on retreats or whatever and we have these great experiences of intimacy and commonality and it's refreshing and inspiring. And then we go back to our real world and try to live our lives the way we wanted to or thought we were going to when we were at camp.
Why do we live like this? I know that I can't live at home the way I can at camp. Maybe that's a failure on my part. Maybe I'm supposed to be able to be able to transcend my circumstances and feelings and be loving and purposeful all the time. But I think it's easier to change my environment than to stop being affected by it.
I know its not always possible to create an ideal environment. I know things get in the way, or things fall apart, and I can't just hide from the world at camp or somewhere. But I don't think I should have to choose between being in community and being in the world.
I want to live in a community. A focused, structured, missional community. I want to have people around me who are committed to the same goal, and committed to me. I want people to serve, and to serve with. I want people to guide me and encourage me and touch me and share their lives with me.
I don't think I'm being greedy or unrealistic. I think this is the way I'm meant to live. And I think I can do it.
I don't know how all the details will work, but I'm trying to figure it out. Maybe I'll join a monastery. I hear there are Franciscans in town. Maybe I'll hook up with the New Monastics. Maybe I'll run away to L'abri for a bit. Maybe I could start my own thing. I don't know.
I'm open to ideas.
12 comments:
If camp became everyday life do you think it would retain its "specialness"? Or would it become routine as usual?
I am not saying communal living is bad or anything. I just think that it losses its novelty once routine kicks in.
I am sure I am stealing this from someone but...you can't run any from your problems they always seem to catch up with you at some point no matter where you go.
Although it would be cool if you become a monk :)
I think that the biggest difference between camp life & "normal" life comes down to precisely what you said: focus. At camp, each person has chosen to be there & each person is aware that there is a common goal to strive toward. In normal life, we seem to be much too separated or individualistic to be able to get together & strive for a common goal. Living at camp 2 years ago taught me that it isn't the length of time--or even the surroundings--it's the determination of striving for a commonly held purpose. I see echoes of that over here in Thailand, and to be honest, I see how ridiculously important it is for a community--even a 'missional' community like the one I'm in--to acually have a stated, focused, directed, shared and srtiven-for purpose. Over here, individualism seems to overshadow the imitations of a common purpose (I wisht we'd be more intentional...), which ends up giving this community the feeling of 'normal life' instead of 'united, committed community' like what camp has.
Them's my thoughts.
LE.
You have touched on one of my favorite pass-times. I enjoy being together with people in a communal setting. I think you and your friends have voiced several of the reasons we enjoy these types of settings. I am convinced that a large part of our enjoyment of communal life is the sense of commonality and support. The rude and boring realities of daily life are minimized because we can leave them back at home. However, if the communal life were the norm it would soon develop that definite daily grind as we would in time be forced to deal with the idiosyncrasies of those people.
The attractive part of short term communal life is the entering into the idealism of our hopes and dreams. On the short term we can pretend to be what daily life seems to undermine. We can choose to do things that are pleasure oriented because we left the mundane back in reality. I have watched the same happen in our pursuit of spiritual highs. A spiritual high is not wrong, but it is good to remember that very little grows on the mountain peaks – it is in the valleys of life that most growth actually happens.
It is very normal to want to enjoy community. The main elements are acceptance and belonging. The sad thing is that so often we look to satisfy that need on a human level without realizing that it needs to be first and foremost satisfied in our daily “community” with God Himself. God has no idiosyncrasies or personality defects that we have to put up with. He knows the best way to put that deepest sense of meaning into life. The main reason we can’t find such is that we want to have things our own way, we like pick and choose what we think is best. So often we question the goodness of God.
We just got back from and excellent week-end retreat and even though I am very tired after staying up too late too many nights, I have wonderful memories to encourage me through the routines of daily life. Let’s make the best of real life by making the right choices every day. I wish the best for you in your daily routine.
"D"
You write:
"But I think it's easier to change my environment than to stop being affected by it."
now the following speaks more to freedom, and fullness, but the underlying idea is 100% applicable to your... "dilemma":
Ph'p:4:11: Not that I speak in respect of want: for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.
Ph'p:4:12: I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound: every where and in all things I am instructed both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need.
Ph'p:4:13: I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.
Where's that coming from (as I'm using it)? If your in Christ, indwelt (as it happens) by the spirit, your hardly the affected, but the effector of your environment. While it's true that you wouldn't want to hang with unbelievers, or hypocrites for long (M't:13:58), one thing "it" shouldn't do is exert any insipid influence on your walk. Remember our LORD's prayer:
....Joh:17:14: I have given them thy word; and the world hath hated them, because they are not of the world, even as I am not of the world.
Joh:17:15: I pray not that thou shouldest take them out of the world, but that thou shouldest keep them from the evil.
Joh:17:16: They are not of the world, even as I am not of the world.
Joh:17:17: Sanctify them through thy truth: thy word is truth.
Joh:17:18: As thou hast sent me into the world, even so have I also sent them into the world.
Joh:17:19: And for their sakes I sanctify myself, that they also might be sanctified through the truth.
Joh:17:20: Neither pray I for these alone, but for them also which shall believe on me through their word;
Joh:17:21: That they all may be one; as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be one in us: that the world may believe that thou hast sent me.
Joh:17:22: And the glory which thou gavest me I have given them; that they may be one, even as we are one:
Joh:17:23: I in them, and thou in me, that they may be made perfect in one; and that the world may know that thou hast sent me, and hast loved them, as thou hast loved me.
Joh:17:24: Father, I will that they also, whom thou hast given me, be with me where I am; that they may behold my glory, which thou hast given me: for thou lovedst me before the foundation of the world.
Joh:17:25: O righteous Father, the world hath not known thee: but I have known thee, and these have known that thou hast sent me.
Joh:17:26: And I have declared unto them thy name, and will declare it: that the love wherewith thou hast loved me may be in them, and I in them.
Wow.
Meditate a bit on this. How is it that he says we ought to be "in the world"? Cloistered away? Certainly not for longer than we have need to set ourselves in order.
We ought to be, chiefly among many things, living testaments to the Gospel before all men. This can only be done in the presence of men (men, as in everyone).
I ought to mention my high regard for the Franciscan's and their related orders (I had a cousin who was a Poor Claire, for instance). But much of monasticism strikes me as antithetical to the lifestyle commended by the apostles, whom we believe spoke by the spirit (don't we?).
Now there are orders that are out there in the trenches, I don't say this about them.
We need to be out there, leading by example if not word.
Your in a place God put you, surrounded by the people God put you in the midst of.. I suppose for a reason. Now perhaps you will say: (M't:13:57:) ...A prophet is not without honor, save in his own country, and in his own house.. Could be, so move over fifty feet, and continue on. Let your light so shine before men that they may see your good works and glorify your Father which is in Heaven (M't:5:16).
Do you know the "name" form converts all to lower case?
I know that people can't be expected to get along all the time. I don't expect living communally to be any easier or more mountaintop-like than normal life - if anything, just the opposite. But I think it does have the potential to be more spiritually encouraging, challenging, and fulfilling. That's what I'm looking for.
I was amused by your statement that "God has no idiosyncrasies or personality defects that we have to put up with." In my experience (which I recognize is not everyone's) God is far more difficult to "put up with" than other people, and far less able to satisfy my needs. (Whether this is a result of a defect in God's personality or my own, or some other factor, I'm not sure.)
I certainly do want to effect my environment. I don't think those who cloister themselves away in monasteries are necessarily doing wrong, but that's not what I'm called to. I want to live communally in the world (which I guess disqualifies most monastic orders) largely because I think I can be most effective in such an environment.
I also think it's important for me to travel, and I may do that before or during my search for community. I hope both will be challenging and scary.
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2 comments:
Miss you,
Jonas
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