theology – Page 3 – Southwest Conference Blog

On the Move

by John Indermark

Modern physics understands that the smallest elements of matter are in constant motion. What appears to be solid, be it your kitchen table or your body, is actually a vibrating collection of subatomic “stuff.” Were it not for forces at work within atoms, the illusion of solidity might spin off into nothingness. I try not to lose sleep over being poised on the edge of that precipice. I need a comfort zone of dependability. How else could I live?

So consider a similar dynamic at work in faith, whether in the heart of an individual or the spirit of a community: we largely prefer to live in comfort zones constructed of what we have come to depend upon in our belief systems. I believe that to be true whether one identifies as a die-hard conservative or flaming liberal or any manner of faith position in between. How did we get that way? Our experiences. Our traditions. Our encounters with God. As best we can, we put those things together and package our faith in a way that makes sense. How else could we live?

There is only one problem with this tendency: God. God’s quicksilver-like resistance to be poured into one shape or fit into one box eludes our control. Just when we think we have this faith-thing nailed down and dependable, God goes contrarian. Ask the folks addressed in Ezekiel 10. Everybody KNEW God dwelt in the Jerusalem temple. That was the covenant, the agreement. God would stay put, no matter what. You could always count on that, if nothing else. How else could they live?

But the “nothing else” of exile came to pass – and God didn’t stay put. God moved beyond the Temple door, beyond the city gates of Jerusalem, beyond the Promised land. As Ezekiel saw it, God had wheels and wings: and God was in motion. God’s freedom was, and remains, a potentially sobering sight. All of our constructions (or is it constrictions?) of God, whether liturgical or theological or political, only have a piece of the Mystery. We catch a glimpse, we receive a promise, we partake a grace. But just when we think we have God all figured out, wheels start spinning and wings start flapping. God proves elusive at every attempt to be boxed in to our favored tradition or pet presumption.

So how can faith survive in the face of God’s boundless freedom, and not spin off into nothingness? Ezekiel’s glimpse of the mystery reveals God’s freedom to be not capricious, but purposefully aimed toward hope. When God leaves Jerusalem, the Presence moves east: the direction of the exiles. God’s freedom did not move God to abandon them, nor us. God’s freedom moves God to find us, to lead us to places whose possibilities we might never have known had it not been for the God too large for any box to contain. Ezekiel’s God has wheels and wings! Does ours?

Embracing and Overcoming Horror (Movies)

by Abigail Conley

Horror movies are one of my favorite indulgences. I’m simultaneously a horror movie snob and will see anything labeled a horror movie. Jordan Peele’s version of horror movies wins awards and is mind-boggling and I highly recommend his work. I take issue with the lack of a systematic theology framework in The Conjuring Universe. Should anyone want to spend a few hours comparing and contrasting the theology of The Exorcist movies, I’m game.

And, yeah, I’ll also watch the terribly predictable movie that starts with teenagers making out where all but one person inevitably ends up dead. I’ll roll my eyes more, but I’ll watch it. Discretion is not really one of my gifts when it comes to this.

As a result of my indiscretion when it comes to horror movies, I recently went to see Midsommar. It’s one of those movies that gets great critical review and has the audience scratching their heads. There are major spoilers coming, so stop reading if you’re anticipating this movie.

The plot: a student from Sweden studying in the United States takes his new friends back home to rural Sweden for a festival. They’re aware he grew up in a rural area, somewhat of a commune, and go willingly for a week of celebration, including lots of hallucinogenic drugs. The drugs, at least, are supplies beyond their wildest dreams. It turns out that they’ve landed in the middle of a pagan cult and are sacrifices for this celebration that happens every ninety years.

Again, sometimes my indiscretion bites me in the butt, especially when it comes to horror movies.

The reason I like the horror genre in general is that they often name our deepest fears and worries. The writers of this genre understand humanity in a profound way. I’m not talking slasher movies; I am talking Pet Sematary, and our fear of death, afterlife, and losing loved ones. Horror movies that hit in the gut recognize that there are things far scarier than what goes bump in the night.

And so, in the middle of a slow-moving trippy movie that has left me scratching my head, there was a gem. One friend would survive the ordeal and join the commune. The guy who brought them all there said to her, “When my parents died, this community held me. Do you feel held?”

Full disclosure, I’m pretty the guy’s parents were sacrificed in some other cultic ceremony. (Seriously, skip this movie.) But I keep thinking about that concept. Do you feel held?

Do you feel held?

That question explores our deepest hopes and needs for connection. That question points out our vulnerability. That question causes my stomach to do something a little weird.

All of the stories in the Bible that I immediately think of in response to that question are points of deep vulnerability. In every case, they are the absence of the feeling of being held, supported, cared for. Mary and Martha mourn with Jesus at the death of Lazarus. Jesus goes into the garden to pray and his disciples fall asleep. On the cross, Jesus asks John to care for his mother.

Do you feel held?

The intimacy of church is one of the things that most often freaks out my friends who don’t do church. The comfort of church with aging and death definitely freaked out my friends when we were in our twenties. But not too long ago, I was with one of our church’s beloved saints in the days before his death. His wife was there with him. She asked for specific people from the church to come, and they all showed up as she requested.

On the night he died, I was there, along with people all gathered from the church. We told stories and assured his wife she would be cared for. We chose a funeral home that night, and laughed and cried. The people gathered with her had memories reaching farther back than mine, and so they comforted in a way I could not. I watched her come alive in a way I had not seen before as they talked in the difficult hours. I waited with her that night until his body was taken to the funeral home, asked the nurse to give her something to help her sleep, then went to my home at the end of a long few days.

That night remains a profound experience of Church, and watching the Church hold someone—deeply, tightly, lovingly, enduringly. They had shared the good times, but they stayed through the worst, and would do it again. Held.

One of the deep fears that plays out time and again in horror movies is fear of being alone. That’s the terrifying part of slasher movies and apocalypse movies. Alone. No one else. Loneliness, it turns out, is one of the health crises bubbling to the surface right now. We are a people in need of each other.

But when I remember that scene, that question, “Do you feel held?” I am amazed by how deeply the church holds—with mountains of food and lock-ins and awkward conversations and showing up. The church holds with baptisms and women’s groups that pastors skirt and cleaning out that one closet yet again amidst laughter and stories. The church holds and keeps holding when no one else will.

It turns out, we brave the greatest fears because we choose to hold. Let us cherish this gift.

Guest Workers

by Carol Peterson

[Rev. Carol Peterson recently relocated to Tucson, having moved here from Virginia, and was part of the Southern Conference, Eastern Virginia Association. Happy to have Carol as a new contributor!]

I am new to the Southwest Conference and Arizona. I visited Tucson several times over the years from my home in Norfolk, Virginia to spend time with my parents, who, initially came here as “snowbirds”, and later became permanent residents. As they have aged (as have I), my spouse, Loen, and I decided to move out here permanently. So having been in Virginia for the better part of the last 30 years, we had a yard sale, donated much of our belongings, and set out across the country in our pickup truck and four little rescue dogs (sadly now, three), and arrived in Tucson the last week of November 2018, just in time for Thanksgiving.

Since then, we find ourselves still in the throes of transition, trying to find our footing in a new place, a new climate, a new culture in many ways, and new circumstances. How do we meet friends, where do we find connections to the LGBTQ community, and where can we find connections to a spiritual and church community? How then, do we find our place, our way of serving, our connection to community, here?

The gospel readings (Luke 10:1-20) yesterday gave pause, and peace. In it we are told that Jesus sent his followers on ahead of him in pairs to the various towns and villages. When there, he told them, bring peace, heal others, and proclaim to all who would hear you, that the reign of God is near. Don’t bring a lot of baggage, accept the hospitality that is given, eat what is set in front of you, and if you are not received, move on, again proclaiming, the reign of God is near.

I leaned over to Loen during the worship service and said, “I guess we’re one of the two by twos.” Wherever we followers of Jesus are sent, for whatever reason, we are sent to heal, bring peace, accept hospitality, and whatever the outcome, proclaim that the reign of God is near.

Our place is where we are sent. Our connection is to Jesus. Our community is wherever we find hospitality. And our task is to heal, bring peace, and always, proclaim that the reign of God is near. We are, we all are, after all, guest workers, reliant upon the hospitality of those with whom we live and work. And we may rest in the assurance that we are sent to where Jesus intends himself to go. (Luke 10:1).

Blessings to all, and we give thanks to God that we are here.

A Christian response to anti-Semitism

by Talitha Arnold

Friday is the first night of Passover, the joyous celebration of God bringing the Jews from slavery into freedom. Today is also Good (or Holy) Friday, the Christian commemoration of Jesus’ death at the hand of the Roman Empire. For both Jews and Christians, this is a deeply holy day.

Tragically, the Christian Holy Friday has often been a time of holy terror for Jews. Throughout the centuries, the remembrance of Jesus’ suffering and death served as an excuse for Christians to inflict that same suffering and death on Jews. A Jewish friend recalls from his 1950s boyhood that he never went outside on Good Friday to avoid being beaten up by neighborhood boys because “the Jews killed Jesus.” Such beliefs are still prevalent. Recently, an acquaintance asserted, “Of course the Jews killed Jesus. The Bible says so.”

No, it doesn’t, and we Christians need to pay attention to how we tell the Good Friday story, especially in this time of rising anti-Semitism. Affirming our faith and seeking to follow in the ways of Jesus Christ should not lead to the prejudice and bias that fosters discrimination, fear and violence.

So how can we Christians tell the story of Good Friday? We can tell the truth that Jesus’ crucifixion was a Roman execution meant to strike fear and suppress opposition. Thirty years before Jesus’ death, the Roman Legion crucified 3,000 Jews to stop a rebellion in Galilee. When Christians tell Jesus’ story, we need be clear that the religious leaders of Jesus’ time were responsible for the well-being of their people, living under the shadow of a brutal and oppressive regime. Many were justifiably concerned with anyone who put their people in jeopardy by challenging that regime.

We can affirm that Christian scriptures were written over decades to different audiences with varying degrees of familiarity with Judaism and different relationships with the Roman Empire. When we speak of Jesus’ last days, we can tell the truth that the Gospel writers were trying to establish a new religion and therefore sometimes disparaged or vilified those who opposed them.

We can also underscore that the Gospels don’t agree in their portrayal of that opposition. As noted above, some Jewish leaders understandably feared Roman retribution, not just for themselves but for their people. Some opposed Jesus for theological reasons and believed he was undermining the faith that had given their people hope for generations.

Still others opposed Jesus for less virtuous reasons. In Jesus’ time, as in ours, unholy and unhelpful alliances existed among political, economic and religious leaders. Jesus’ advocacy for the poor, the vulnerable and the outcast — which was deeply rooted in his own faith as a Jew — may have been welcomed by some leaders and by the people, but it put him at odds with many in power, especially those at the top.

Moreover, the Gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke often distinguished between the religious establishment and the people. Their Gospels also acknowledged diverse opinions toward Jesus among the leaders themselves. In contrast, three decades later, John’s Gospel was written primarily from a “you’re either for us or against us” perspective.

Hence, John spoke only of “the Jews” with little distinction between leaders and people or recognition of the diversity among the leaders. John also absolved the Romans of almost any responsibility for Jesus’ death. In Mark, Pontius Pilate turns Jesus over for crucifixion because he wishes “to please the crowd.” In Matthew, he literally washes his hands of the situation. But in John, the Roman imperial governor pleads Jesus’ case — an odd perspective, given the Roman Empire’s brutal response to religious resisters.

Because John’s Gospel has been the main text used in many Good Friday traditions, Jesus’ death often has been framed solely as the result of the “old Jewish religion” resisting the “new (and better)” Christian faith. From there, it’s only a small step to the “bad Jew, good Christian” thinking that’s often permeated Christianity from its beginning.

Yet as scholars Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan observe, if the Jews as a whole wanted Jesus dead, why do Mark and Matthew state that the leaders needed to arrest and kill Jesus “by stealth” or that they were worried about a “riot among the people?” Perhaps the real opposition to Jesus that led to his death was rooted less in religion than in the leaders’ fear of losing power or status. Such fear is a human trait, not limited to any particular religious or ethnic group.

As Christians, we need to tell the truth of the Good Friday story. The story of Holy Week is not about the inherent evil of a particular ethnic or religious group. It is simply the all-too-human story of vested power (political and religious) that is threatened and then responds with force and violence.

The Jews didn’t kill Jesus. Fear and hatred did. Neither is the sole domain of any particular religious group or faith tradition. The question isn’t “who” killed Jesus but “what.” We Christians need to remember that this sacred week.

The Rev. Talitha Arnold, senior pastor at United Church of Santa Fe, wrote this for the Interfaith Leadership Alliance.

Praying for Our Enemies

by Teresa Blythe

If we are to love our enemies, as Jesus emphatically taught, we ought to keep them in our prayers. It’s the last thing many of us want to do these days.

Who is my enemy?

People who strive to be good don’t like to think we have enemies. Your enemy is someone who is working against you; someone who does not have your best interest at heart; perhaps someone who hurt you and shows no remorse. Part of being human is admitting that, yes, we are holding some grudges against certain people for how they treat us. Even if we don’t like the term “enemy,” we probably do have one or two! It’s easier to ignore those who we might label enemy than to hold them in the presence of God as we pray or meditate.

Do you pray for your enemies?

Have you done any deep spiritual work around loving and praying for enemies? If not, the first step might be to simply ask God to assist you in compassion for them. Jesus loved to pray, so if you are a Jesus follower, why not ask him to pray in you or teach you to pray for those who hurt or rebuke you?

I’m one of those who likes to pretend I have no enemies, therefore, I don’t need to pray for them! And then I look at the news and get so angry at politicians who try to take away affordable health care or I fume about men who sexually harass women. So, yes, I need to pray more for my enemies.

A Prayer Practice to Experiment With

When Donald Trump first became president, I struggled with how to love and pray for political leaders who I feel do not have my best interest at heart. I wrestled with how to create a prayer practice that holds our political leaders — even those I would vote against or work to unseat (maybe especially those) — in the light of God’s presence. At the time I was reading a classic book on Christian healing, “The Healing Light” by Agnes Sanford and she suggested that when we feel overwhelmed by evil or tragedy in the world, pick one person or one situation and pray for that rather than trying to pray for everything that’s going on.

And so I did. I chose one powerful national political leader that I find distasteful (a member of the House of Representatives) and began to pray for him. I chose one who speaks frequently of his Christian faith so I thought maybe, hopefully, he will be open to the transformation that we all need to lower the temperature on this nation’s polarization.

I’ve seen no great transformation in him since I began this prayer, but I do see a change in me. I now see this politician as a person — a troubled person — and one that is in a difficult position. Like my Buddhist friends, I pray “May he be happy, healthy and at peace.”

Another Practice to Try

When you want to believe “a change is gonna come” but are having trouble visualizing it on a national or global level, try asking the Divine — and trusting the Divine — to bring “all good things and all good people to work together” for the good of all. Process theology teaches us that God is constantly weaving our gifts and passions together for God’s purposes, and the more we open ourselves to what God is calling us to do or be, the more we become a part of the process of change.

It can be overwhelming to look around at enemies and consider what they are saying and doing. Finding ways to pray for them may feel futile at first, but it’s transformative work. It’s a way of maintaining hope in the face of chaos.

How do you pray for your enemies?

Debts, Trespasses, Sins…??? The Language of Liturgy

by Jim Cunningham

We have done much to update the language of worship to be more inclusive, more contemporary. I was counseled to think of the visitor who has little or no experience in Christian worship – like… print out the Lord’s Prayer! I remember the young adult who asked me, “what is a hymn?” We might add… “Doxology, Gloria Patri, Eucharist, Collect, Sermon, Sacrament, Communion, etc.

Touching the language of the traditional Lord’s Prayer can be an especially explosive issue! Still, many have at least given members the option of “Father, Mother, Creator, Spirit, or some other sacred address. Some have changed or discussed changing “lead us not into temptation” questioning the theology – even the Pope has spoken to this. The congregation I attend is led to read, “let us not fall into temptation.”

I did convince one congregation to move from “debts” to “sin.” Still, what does “sin” mean to those not familiar with church history or tradition?

I wonder how Jesus would word this prayer if alive in our time? Perhaps we should challenge our members to each give this a try. I think the resulting discussion would be most interesting.

I did preach about the Lord’s Prayer as a transitional preacher just before moving to Phoenix in March. I ended the sermon with my contemporary rewrite. I was pleased and impressed with the interest and thoughtful response from many in the congregation. Several shared their own rewrite of the Lord’s Prayer the following Sunday. On my last Sunday, the placemats for lunch were pictures of my ministry and a copy of the Lord’s Prayer version I wrote.

Here is my thinking as of today. I invite you to share your own contemporary rewrite of the Lord’s Prayer.

Sacred Spirit, Creator, the Mystery within all and beyond all.
Your vision for life and creation be realized now.
Give us this day what we need to live fully and faithfully in the moment.
Forgive us when we have been disrespectful,
As we forgive others who have been disrespectful.
Grant us wisdom and strength to resist evil.
We live in your Presence and Love, forever. Amen.

The Tyranny of Sunday

by Karen Richter

I was sharing work-related woes with a friend the other day. He was relating how there are some in his organization who have a penchant for making things more complicated than they need to be. Sometimes, he noted, work expands to fit the time available and some of us tend to be mesmerized by complexity.

“Your office needs a Sunday,” I told him.

Huh?

Here’s a glimpse into church life: Sunday comes after 6 days of non-Sundays every single week. Let’s say your church has a great Sunday: the pews are full, the offering basket is full too. The message is inspiring; the choir knocks it out of the park. At coffee hour, conversation is lively and welcoming.

Awesome. Now do it again in 6 days.

Let’s say, conversely, that Sunday doesn’t go so well. It’s a holiday weekend and lots of people are elsewhere. The microphone makes crazy noises; the coffee is burned. Someone forgets to grab the bread for communion and the congregation sings flat.

Awesome. Now do better in 6 days.

What I call ‘the tyranny of Sunday’ is this: whether things are good or bad, you get another chance the very next week. Buckle up, buttercups! At my friend’s workplace, they seemed to need the time crunch of a metaphorical Sunday to keep projects moving forward. Sunday is a cure for beleaguered decision-making, perfectionism, and micro-management.

This is the way calendars work, of course. But it makes for good theology.

The pressure is on! Every week, church clergy and staff and musicians and volunteers strive to put together a meaningful experience of connection to one another, connection to our lived experience, and connection to the Mystery we call God. People depend on their church family, and this work matters.
But hey, no pressure! We never know what someone brings with them on Sunday. We can’t foresee what might be touching or meaningful to the people in the pews. We can’t bat 1000 every week, so we do our best and leave the results in God’s hands.
The consistency of weekly worship guides us through the liturgical seasons. The combination of regular gatherings and the poles of the Church year (Lent/Easter and Advent/Christmas) promote balance and growth.
A regular day is okay! I’m sometimes astounded when I recall that I really enjoyed the sermon on a particular Sunday, but now I can’t remember the topic. Being together as a worshiping community is often enough. Lifetimes are made from regular days and vibrant active churches are made from regular Sundays.

Maybe other weekly rituals and tasks work the same way. If you’re a Saturday Night Live cast member, let me know your thoughts.

Take care, everyone. See you… on Sunday.

This is a test. This is only a test.

by Karen Richter

Is life just one test after another?

Names below have been changed.

Now that my youngest child has hit adolescence, I seem to be harvesting the fruits of telling her since she started school that grades are not important to me. She’s testing my resolve… occasionally deciding that an assignment is not a priority. I’ve mostly stuck to my resolve, reminding both of us that there are more important things in life than 6^th grade language arts.

Recently, I confided my struggles to a casual friend, Jenna, and a most interesting conversation ensued. Our tone was lighthearted, but the conversation revealed different ways of relating to life.

KR: So, I’ve always told my children that learning is very important to me, but grades not so much. Unfortunately, it seems that Molly was listening all this time.

Jenna: I have not given Rianne that message… not at all. I tell her that she’s being graded and tested and judged all the time. At school, at home, out in public. You don’t do what you’re told – you’re being graded on that. You have a school assignment – you’re being graded on that. You have an interaction with someone you don’t know at a restaurant – you’re being graded on that. We’re always in every situation being tested.

Is Jenna right?

Of course she is. Human brains are sorting, difference-measuring, weighing-up machines. Making decisions about people and situations is what we do. It has kept our species alive for many millennia. And we also recognize that we’ve all had experiences when we are told in ways both direct and subtle that we don’t measure up. We’re just not ___ enough. Not good enough, not smart enough, not handsome enough, not thin enough, not athletic enough, not conforming enough. Our post-modern, hyper individualistic, youth- and wealth-worshiping society doesn’t exactly encourage us to accept ourselves and others just as we are. We do feel as if we are always being tested and being found deficient.

If I had more time in my conversation with Jenna (and if I had been thinking quickly on my feet), I might have said, “Yes, we feel the weight of others’ judgments. But we don’t have to take every opinion with equal weight. We can walk away from expectations and judgments. And more importantly, we need to share with our children the heart-deep conviction that their worth does not depend on the ‘grades’ given by others – EVEN IF those expectations and judgments come from someone they love and respect.”

Also recently, I’m diving deeper into Nonviolent Communication. At the heart of NVC is the idea that every human person has dignity and innate worth and personal agency. Our needs are both important and shared. When we interact in a way that honors human freedom, connections can be made that serve life.

This is an easy connection to my faith. We are called in ways large and small to freedom.

Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And all of us, with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another; for this comes from the Lord, the Spirit. (2 Corinthians 3:17-18)

What does this mean for Molly’s ‘History of Me’ social studies project due this next to last week of school? I don’t know, but I know that she will carry with her this idea that she is of tremendous value NO MATTER WHAT far longer than she will care about her 4^th quarter grading report. And for this assurance, no matter how frustrating I occasionally find it, I am grateful.

Finally, what’s an alternative to Jenna’s worldview? How can we relate to the way life is, if not as a gigantic classroom with high-stakes testing? Maybe life is a garden where those planted can simply grow. Maybe Mary was more right than we thought… when she thought Jesus was the gardener (John 20).

Spirit of Life, Spirit of Love: we confess that often we don’t know how to relate to our own freedom or the freedom of others. We confess that sometimes our interactions with our fellow creatures don’t serve this freedom. Help us – open our eyes. We so want to live in grace and abundance. Guard in our hearts this vision of open futures and faith-filled garden paths. We pray in faith and gratitude. Amen.

Opened Minds – Hearts on Fire: Exploring the Easter Stories

by Karen Richter

I don’t know about you, but if I were writing the story of Easter… I would make it Extra. Extra miracles, extra teaching, extra healings, maybe a Big Finish.

I wouldn’t write the stories that we have. Someone told me this past week that the Easter stories just don’t seem that impressive. I concur. Well there are angels and fainting guards and earthquake (Matthew 28!). But walking anonymously down the road, breathing weirdly on people, cooking breakfast… I’ll take a pass.

The other day I made a super-nerdy Easter story matrix. Here’s what I learned:

As the gospel tradition moves forward through history (from Mark written about 70 CE to John written just after 100 CE), the Easter appearance stories get bigger: more complex and more weird. Mark’s Gospel originally has only the empty tomb tradition, with some risen vision stories tacked on later like a Holy Post-It note. John’s gospel has six different stories.
They’re all different from one another across the 4 Gospels, unlike other Jesus stories of our tradition such as the feeding miracles.
In each story, Jesus is somehow different and somehow the same. He’s not easily recognized even by friends, but he retains his Crucifixion wounds. Embodied, but transformed, maybe.
All 3 synoptic Gospels have angels at the tomb. This is interesting, since we associate angels with Christmas so much more than with Easter.
Jesus doesn’t do any last minute teaching in the Risen Vision stories. There are no “Remember the Beatitudes!” reminders or one last parable to share. For me, this speaks to trust. The disciples will be on their own soon. Easter is graduation day, or maybe confirmation, for them.
Jesus doesn’t spend his post-Resurrection time on miracles. The time for loaves and fishes and healing on the Sabbath seems to have passed. John does recount an extra large catch of fish and an extra strong net, but as miracles go, it’s pretty low key.

So if, as time passes, Resurrection stories and experiences expand, becoming more complex and more weird, what are our Easter stories? Maybe – just maybe – the most impressive and exciting Easter stories are yet to come. In Luke 24, the disciples have their hearts burning and their minds opened by their encounters with Jesus. What is our tale of Easter? How will we share our burning hearts and opened minds with the world?

One more Easter observation… Jesus seems to really like fish.

Eastertide Peace to you all.

Intelligent People Can Take the Bible Seriously

by Ryan Gear

Can I share something with you?

Sometimes I’m embarrassed to tell people I’m a pastor.

There, I said it.

When I meet someone for the first time, I dread the inevitable, “So what do you do for a living?” It’s just awkward. I actually feel bad for them.

You probably understand why. The reason I’m embarrassed is the reputation so many American Christians have earned. If a person doesn’t already know me, my assumption is that they will instantly project their generalized experience of Christians onto me and wonder if I’m “one of those.” In what should be a devastating realization for U.S. Christians, that often means a Bible-thumping, politically partisan, backward person.

Along with that expectation of what Christians are like, there is usually an accompanying assumption that the Bible is an irrelevant, backward book that is most often used as a weapon to hurt other people. That too should be devastating to Christians like me who love the Bible and find so much meaning in it.

It saddens me because I know how fascinating and mind-expanding the Bible and Jesus-inspired spirituality can be. I understand that this is a cultural challenge to some, but the truth is that people who drink lattes, use iPhones, and watch TED Talks can take the Bible seriously. Even some Christians I know hold the view, perhaps unconsciously, that the Bible is passé. Their church involvement is motivated by their friendships or an affinity for their congregation’s stance on political issues, and the Bible figures quite small in their lives, even if they claim it plays a larger role.

Once you decide to move past your own preconceived notions and what other people have claimed about the Bible, you can approach with an open mind and for what it is. No, the Bible is not one cohesive book. It was not dictated by God. It is not objective, scientific history that demands Christian kids argue with their high school biology teacher.

It’s far more interesting than that.

The Bible is a collection books (originally scrolls) written by different authors, in different languages, living in different cultures, in different geographic regions, over a period of over 1,000 years. The books were clearly written by human authors (although, yes, I personally do believe they were inspired in some way by the divine). While the books of the Bible are not objective history, they are a fascinating and meaning-filled record of ancient people’s spiritual and cultural journeys that can change your life and mine.

Reading the Bible is like stepping into another world, one that opens your eyes to your current experience of the world in a new way, challenges your assumptions, moves you, and generally forces you to rethink your view of life and the world around you.

Some parts are inspiring. Learn from those things (ex. love your neighbor).

Some parts are horrifying. Learn from those mistakes (ex. don’t drive tent spikes into people’s heads.)

If you’ve never read the Bible, a good place to begin is at the beginning. I would suggest reading the first three chapters of Genesis. Again, remember that it was never intended to be a science textbook. Genesis 1-3 appears to be a mash up of two creation accounts. The first one ends at chapter 2, verse 3. It was likely written or compiled 2,600 years ago by Jewish priests after their land had been conquered and they were taken captive and exiled in Babylon.

You could Google some cultural context to help you understand the backdrop of what you’re reading. Wikipedia is better than nothing. What did the Babylonians believe about the origin of earth, the purpose of the sun, gods, and relationship of human beings to the gods? Try to avoid assuming you know what a word or statement means. While you read, ask yourself:

What do these two origin stories communicate about God (especially contrasted with a Babylonian view of God and creation)?
About human beings?
About our relationship to God?
About our relationship to other human beings? (ex. what does it mean that Eve is created from Adam’s side, “side” is a better translation than “rib,” and not from his head or his feet?)
About our relationship to the natural world? (to be created in the image of God is like being a king or queen that cares for creation on God’s behalf)
About growing up, learning about life, and facing temptation?

Genesis chapters 1-3 are meant to facilitate the experience of looking into a mirror and learning about ourselves. Read it a few times and ask if you can relate to anything in the two creation stories.

If you can do this, you just took the Bible seriously and let it speak to your spiritual life…

Even though you might be embarrassed to tell anyone.