Using Jesus as a Guiding Model

In contemplating the most accurate way to describe my own religious affiliation (should I be asked by fellow churchgoers), I have given long thought to one my good friend's approaches of responding according to the primary religious model and/or framework that has shaped one's outlook on life; which for us is the person of Jesus.

I was reminded of this approach after my friend refered me to Malcolm Dalglish’s hymn “Paradise” where Jesus is imaged as the “flame that lights the way.” I could really relate to my friend's reflection that- even if he doesn’t believe in certain Christian doctrines- there are still those aspects of Jesus' "life, teaching, example, and person” that serve as “the light by which (we) discern things.”

I totally agree.

Although I think Jesus went way too far in some of the things he was believed to have said and despite the fact that I have serious intellectual difficulty in (1) embracing his ideas about otherworldly matters, (2) accepting the authority he seems to assume for himself and (3) believing the Gospel’s miracle stories as historical facts, I still admire Jesus greatly and find wisdom in his approach to life, humility, conflict-resolution, service and ethics. As I have said before, I blame his Good Samaritan story for making me a humanist!

All that to say, I cannot deny that my personal outlook on life has been profoundly shaped by the one they called Jesus.

I consider myself to be an "admirer of Jesus." It seems too dishonest for me to say I am a “follower of Jesus” considering that- in the most literal sense- I have not done what those characters in the Gospels who actually followed Jesus were asked to do; I’d dare say that few of us who confidently claim allegiance to Jesus' way us have actually gone that far with it. I suspect that those of us who attend Christian churches have fashioned an easier, more formulaic, less-demanding and distorted form of Jesus’ gospel in order to make us feel better about failing to actually emulate his example.

Even though I’m pretty far along in my discarding of traditional Christian dogma, I do take the idea of following Jesus seriously and wish more people allowed themselves room to really “count the cost” and consider the implications of such a major commitment.In light of this, I try to use the life of Jesus (primarily based on my reading of the Synoptic Gospels) as a guiding model and hermeneutic to discern his interests and priorities from those of the early Church. I, like many others who have pursued this line of thought, think there is a profound difference in the two.

Before I realized how unoriginal this notion was, I had long wondered: Why does the Jesus who preached the "Sermon on the Mount" seem so far removed from the emphasized teachings and practices of the contemporary Christian church? Why was the Sermon on the Mount’s “almost-humanistic” Jesus (so practical and so human) seem so different from the ethereal and cosmic character of The Savior Christ that millions of individuals worship and call upon? Why do I gravitate to the former figure while so many gravitate to the latter?

How refreshing it would be if my Christian brothers and sisters could at least admit that many of our contemporary churches tend to emphasize and demand conformity in things that Jesus didn’t seem to stress about (i.e., the great commission to “go ye therefore”, public prayer, adherence to notions of biblical inerrancy, papal infallibility, advancing pro-Christian political agendas, condemning homosexuality, creationism, intimidating non-Christians and “sinners” with the threat of hell, the idea that one’s salvation is contingent upon one’s acceptance of certain doctrines, etc.) whereas Jesus himself seemed to stress a lot of things that many of our more dogmatic evangelical churches seem to downplay (i.e., the great commandment to “love God and neighbor”, loving and praying for one’s enemies, selling all possessions and giving to the poor, being non-violent, being merciful, forbidding divorce, praying only in private, being service-minded, turning the other cheek, intimidating the apathetic religious hypocrites of his day with the threat of hell, and the idea that one’s salvation is contingent upon one’s compassionate behavior/willingness to forgive others, etc.).

How I wish I could get more of my Christian friends to at least agree with me on that point!I also can’t help but notice how many “bible-believing churches” base their beliefs and faith claims on things that Jesus was likely to have never said (for example, the material found primarily in the Gospel of John and the New Testament letters).

Though I am visiting, I refuse to ever join a church that seeks to teach me how to frame the world into an “us-versus-them” of believers and “hell-bound” non-believers; that teaches young children to reject the most credible scientific insights; that teaches members how to suppress the faculty of reason; and who actively pressure children and adults into professing “a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ as their personal Lord and Savior.”

I say that is only one understanding of the gospel, and- thank goodness- not the only way.

Where are the fellowships that focus more on teaching congregants how to cultivate the fortitude to forgive others “seventy times seven;” how to develop the maturity and contentment needed to part ways with self-absorption and mindless consumerism; how to use what you have to serve those who are in need; how to regularly escape to quiet, secluded places to pray mindfully; how to empathize with the outcasts, orphans and widows; and how to evangelize without words by extending merciful “Samaritan” hands to those of different cultures, beliefs and traditions?

Does one have to become a Buddhist or a mystic in order to engage in spiritual practices that would help them to live closer to the way of Jesus?

Movie Review: Bill Maher's "Religulous"

I found Religulous to be funny and entertaining for what it is: an audio-visual package explaining Bill Maher’s views and opinions about the absurd and dangerous aspects of religion in general, giving a special focus on a handful of religious sects such as Christianity (specifically Western Christianity), Mormonism, Islam, Judaism and Scientology. During the course of the film, he also explores Egyptian folklore, Mesopotamian mythology, Creationism and interesting parallels between many of history’s mythological and historical figures. The film provides on-screen scripture references and attributions for the various experts with whom he engages (which is very helpful for follow-up and fact-checking).

I thought it was interesting though, that with a few choice exceptions, Maher tends to overlook the more moderate and mainline expressions of popular belief systems and spends most of his time examining and interrogating those who hold more radical (dare to even say “extremist”) religious views. In a way, many of his interactions seemed like Jay Leno’s “man on the street” interviews with people (who, but for a few exceptions, embarrassed themselves). With his sharp wit and comedic talent, Maher is successful in exposing some of the clumsy ways that educated and less-educated people rationalize their particular religious views and explain away inconsistencies.

However, one should maintain a high level of skepticism knowing that the filmmakers and editors can also manipulate footage (with the tools of dramatic music, sudden splices, and abrupt cutaways) to distort the exchanges between Maher and his subjects so that Maher appears to be the victor (Note: I also noticed that the makers of Expelled, a recent documentary starring Ben Stein that advocated for the cause of Intelligent Design, employed many- if not all- of the same techniques- i.e., subjects not being fully aware of the kind of film being made, including sudden splices of provocative images over the opponents explanations, dramatic or satirical music choices being played beneath the opponents words, etc.).

No doubt, some folks made their ignorance obvious and didn’t need “Hollywood magic” to make them look bad, but I do think there were some examples where Maher was clearly unfair in presenting the other points of view. The medium of film can convey a point, but due to such techniques, it’s hard to convert those who aren’t already convinced. I also found Maher to be somewhat deceptive in assuming the role of a doubtful and humble agnostic in the beginning of the film and then inserting his bold, unquestioning sermonettes and assertions about what he believes about reality towards the end.

But, despite his presentation (which often comes off as abrasive and antagonistic), I admire Maher’s courage and believe that he brings up some serious issues for believers and non-believers to take to heart- and I hope that many would accept that challenge. Maher challenges people- especially believers who are willing and able to look past Maher’s offensive presentation- to ask themselves: What are the moral, political and ethical implications of our belief systems? What defenses and rationalizations no longer make sense? What do our doctrines say about the “God” we claim to worship? In what ways do we apply double standards to our own belief systems? What elements do we critique/ridicule in other belief systems that we seem to accept in our own? What aspects of our faith merit significant reappraisal?

These, I think, are the enduring questions that should not be avoided.

While I think a public forum or a panel would have had more potential to display more integrity and provide a more fruitful discussion, there is still something to be said for the power of film. I think Religulous is a film that is worth seeing and discussing all in the hopes that such discussion will help us to prune outdated and hollow rationalizations from our most cherished beliefs and to look closely at our own ideas and consider how ridiculous they may sound to others who do not share them. In an odd way, such films challenge both the skeptic and the believer.

Feeling trapped, yearning for freedom

I’m depressed. I feel trapped between two worlds- the natural one I see with my eyes and the invisible realm that believers put their faith in. I see the suffering in the former, but I'm told to be concerned most about the latter. I feel stuck and confused at a crossroads where so many paths seem inviting, but I remain fearful. I’m afraid to commit to those adventures and callings which beckon me to come near because, while they may provide me with meaningful avenues through which I can express my sincere convictions, I suspect they will take me even farther from those I know, love and cherish. But I also realize that my procrastination does not help anyone.

I'm living a dual existence: the hidden one where I express my true thoughts in a psychological exile of anonymity and the public one where I amiably pretend to believe what I now consider incredible. I’m torn. Mainly because I don’t want anyone to suffer- especially because of something I’ve said, done, neglected to do or refused to accept as true. I feel a burning and all-consuming anxiety over what I imagine to be an oncoming and inevitable source of conflict- knowing that a decision must be made soon. I understand that my elusive ambiguity serves only to frustrate and destabilize those closest to me. Yet I am afraid to commit. When I do commit, I fear rejection. I fear rejection, knowing it is the price of speaking honestly and living proactively.

How can one be honest and not be, in some way, agnostic and uncertain about ultimate matters like "God" and eternity? How can we know anything for sure? Why do we seem to prefer comforting and illusory speculations instead of embracing painful and observable facts? I began my journey searching for a more perfect understanding of the ultimate; a trustworthy method to make sure that I was devoting my life and energy to something credible, powerful and real. In the process, I have learned just how deceptive the human mind can be- especially my own. Realizing my own tendency to fool myself makes me suspicious off all others with the capacity to think. Above all, I do not want to delude myself or anyone else.

But no matter how much I try to separate facts from falsehood my humanity seems to get in the way. Seemingly cursed, I feverishly examine endless articles, rabbit-eared books and online resources as I hunt for satisfying answers to enlighten my mind, shed my prejudices, confirm my intuitions and validate the expense of my journey. But I am constantly reminded that my cognitive capacity has limits and I can’t know it all. I just can’t remember everything I come across in my studies. Like heat, the profound insights of underappreciated authors evaporate and become forgotten memories. My prayer is that I can retain what I need for the times when I will need it. That I will be flexible enough to deal with whatever challenges I encounter.

But, despite my limitations, I am left with reality: issues that I have delayed addressing; painful discussions that I try my best to evade; real people whose lives and destinies are intertwined with my own and which are affected by my choices. I try to manage the complexity as gently and as skillfully as I know how. Elusive humor is helpful in cloaking to my honest thoughts. But at some point the uncomfortable laughter needs to stop.

I know that no one is safe from suffering and I have learned to appreciate the small joys of living and to be content and mindful of our mortality. Sadly, I have only grasped this while I have put off dealing with the old burdens that continue to haunt my waking moments.

I don’t fear an apocalyptic end to this life. Instead, I am horrified by the idea that my final breath will escape my body and leave behind a gross misrepresentation of my authentic self before I can summon the nerve to boldly share with all the full view of my soul and thought. I am equally horrified by the notion that expressing my true opinions will disappoint those I adore. This is amplified by the incessant fear that should I decide to publicize my unpopular opinions they may one day prove to be wrong and misguided and I will have done irrevocable damage to minds and hearts.

But this is the risk we must take as fallible beings.

Heaven is no consolation for living a lie. I admire all who have had the courage to come out publicly as their true selves. My heroes are those who refuse to masquerade in forms that cater to the preferences of others. I do not want to die like those considerate and cowardly Enlightenment-era parish priests who masqueraded as defenders of orthodoxy while leaving behind secret diaries confessing their heretical opinions. I want to be known and remembered for who I truly am. Not as a label, but as a honest man.

But I hold on because I believe that freedom will come if I press towards it. Until then, I walk carefully and advance gradually- summoning the spirits of patience, sensitivity and wisdom. Praying that they guide my words and actions because this feels like the fight of my life. .

Writing helps. But only living will bring fulfillment.

Opinions in Exile

The following passage is a reflection on the Hebrew Bible's Psalm 137 written by Reverend John Nichols, a Unitarian Universalist minister and author of A Wind Swept Over the Waters: Reflections on Sixty Favorite Bible Passages (Skinner House Books, 2007). In this excerpt from his 2007 book, Nichols imagines the experience of Israel’s people as they endured being exiled as a minority in Babylon during the 6th century B.C.E. The piece also describes the difficulty of living, speaking and sharing one's unpopular convictions when they run counter to the prevailing worldviews of one's cultural surroundings. Click here to read the full passage.

Many situations make us feel that we have been exiled to a “foreign land.” We might have moved to a culture so different that it was hard to get adjusted. We may have discovered that suddenly our most cherished beliefs are so radically at odds with those of the people around us that we must keep quiet about them, or if we speak, we must be prepared to defend ourselves…

Many people live in some kind of Babylon [exile] They live where they cannot speak some thoughts without criticism. To survive in such a negative culture, it is tempting to negate our own convictions as being finally not that important. It is tempting as well to keep quiet, walking away from conversations that might expose our differences. Either temptation sacrifices something of our integrity in order to maintain relationships that will be “safe” though always slightly dishonest. One of the most important spiritual strengths we have is the ability to be honest about who we are…

Recognizing that what was at stake was nothing less than the integrity of their souls, the Jews of Babylon formed communities in which their heritage and their ethical convictions became vastly more important to them in exile than they had been before. They sought one another’s support to affirm their differences from Babylonians and to raise their children as if those differences really mattered. Because they chose community rather than safety and anonymity, their convictions survived to make a lasting impression on the world. May we all seek and find the communities we most need in the foreign lands through which we must travel.

Reflection on "My Easy God is Gone," a poem by James Kavanaugh

Yesterday evening as I drove to pick up my daughter from daycare, I was listening to a podcast that cited “My Easy God is Gone,” a confessional poem written by former Catholic priest and renowned wordsmith James Kavanaugh. Before this point, I had never heard of Kavanaugh; but as his transparent sentiments were read aloud, I found many of his lyrical phrasings resonating with my own experience of disillusionment in regards to the personal God in which I used to believe. Kavanaugh’s powerful poem takes meticulous account of what he has lost in abandoning his earlier notions of God, expresses relief for having shed his former ideas and then proceeds to celebrate the reclaiming of his own sensitive humanity.

Kavanaugh notes that he has “lost” his “easy God” and has abandoned the constrictive dogma that too often rendered his own human experiences devoid of meaning and value. Kavanaugh grieves at how the “easy God” of his childhood “took all mystery away, corroded my imagination, controlled the stars and would not let them speak for themselves.” He boldly declares that, despite his childhood indoctrination into the creeds of his faith tradition, the “maxims memorized in boyhood do not make fruitless and pointless my experience.” He proclaims, “I am a boy again - I whose boyhood was turned to manhood in a brutal myth.” Kavanaugh seems to express a relieved sigh of freedom with honest lines like, “I walk alone, but not so terrified as when He held my hand.”

Yes, like Kavanaugh, I too feel that “some fierce umbilical is broken.” As my wife and I visit different churches (both liberal and conservative), I sit through worship services and feel jarringly distant and removed from what is going on- almost like a disinterested anthropologist sent from a foreign land to study the religious experiences of my fellow human beings. Yet, though I feel removed, I remain keenly aware of my own ignorance while also being appreciative and grateful for the myriad of meaningful experiences that have formed my personality and shaped my character.

I don’t know much about James Kavanaugh, but I sought to know more about the life that created such a moving piece. Somehow I sense a kindred spirit in Kavanaugh, one that belongs to a restless explorer whose thirst for inquiry refuses to settle for pat answers and outdated explanations. I appreciate that Kavanaugh’s poetry affirms the significance of mystery, human fallibility and adaptability, the wonders of love, the regenerative power of painful experiences and the creative resourcefulness with which we humans derive meaning from it all.

Like Kavanaugh, I am still willing to consider the idea that “God” may exist as some vague force or pulsating creative power that exists beyond the human capacity to understand or explain; However, I am more convinced than ever that “God” does not exist as a personal and tribal deity who picks favorites, conveys its crucial message to a handful of ordained spokespersons and intervenes in the physical world through supernatural and miraculous means.

In the Preface to his book, Too Gentle to Live Among Wolves, Kavanaugh says:

"I will probably be a searcher until I die and hopefully death itself will only be another adventure. To live any other way seems impossible. If anything has changed over the years, and it has, I only feel more confident now about what I wrote then. I am far more aware of the power that guides each of us along the way, and provides us with the insights and people we need for our journey. There are, indeed, men and women too gentle to live among wolves and only when joined with them will life offer the searcher, step by step, all that is good and beautiful. Life becomes not a confused struggle or pointless pain, but an evolving mosaic masterpiece of the person we were destined to become."

Below is the complete version of James Kavanaugh's poem “My Easy God is Gone.”

"My Easy God is Gone"
by James Kavanaugh


I have lost my easy God –
the one whose name I knew since childhood.
I knew his temper, his sullen outrage, his ritual forgiveness.
I knew the strength of his arm,
the sound of his insistent voice.
His beard bristling, his lips full and red
with moisture at the moustache,
His eyes clear and piercing,
too blue to understand all,
His face too unwrinkled to feel my child’s pain.
He was a good God - so he told me -
a long suffering and manageable one.
I knelt at his feet and kissed them.
I felt the smooth countenance of his forgiveness.

I never told him how he frightened me,
How he followed me as a child,
When I played with friends or begged
for candy on Halloween.
He was a predictable God,
I was the unpredictable one.
He was unchanging, omnipotent, all-seeing,
I was volatile and helpless.

He taught me to thank him for the concern
which gave me no chance to breathe,
For the love which demanded only love in
return - and obedience.
He made pain sensible and patience possible
and the future foreseeable.
He, the mysterious, took all mystery away,
corroded my imagination,
Controlled the stars and would not let
them speak for themselves.

Now he haunts me seldom:
some fierce umbilical is broken,
I live with my own fragile hopes and
sudden rising despair.
Now I do not weep for my sins;
I have learned to love them.
And to know that they are the wounds that
make love real.
His face eludes me; his voice, with all
its pity, does not ring in my ear.
His maxims memorized in boyhood do not
make fruitless and pointless my experience.

I walk alone,
but not so terrified as when he held my hand.

I do not splash in the blood of his son
nor hear the crunch of nails or thorns
piercing protesting flesh.
I am a boy again - I whose boyhood was
turned to manhood in a brutal myth.
Now wine is only wine
with drops that do not taste of blood.
The bread I eat has too much pride for transubstantiation,
I, too - and together the bread and I embrace,
Each grateful to be what we are,
each loving from our own reality.
Now the bread is warm in my mouth and
I am warm in its mouth as well.

Now my easy God is gone –
he knew too much to be real,
He talked too much to listen,
he knew my words before I spoke.
But I knew his answers as well –
computerized and turned to dogma.
His stamp was on my soul, his law locked
cross-like on my heart,
His imperatives tattooed on my breast, his
aloofness canonized in ritual.

Now he is gone - my easy, stuffy God - God,
the father - master, the mother - whiner, the
dull, whoring God who offered love bought
by an infant’s fear.
Now the world is mine with all its pain and
warmth, with its every color and sound;
The setting sun is my priest with the ocean for its altar.
The rising sun redeems me with rolling
waves warmed in its arms.
A dog barks and I weep to be alive, a
cat studies me and my job is boundless.
I lie on the grass and boy-like, search the sky.
The clouds do not turn to angels, the winds
do not whisper of heaven or hell.

Perhaps I have no God - what does it matter?
I have beauty and joy and transcending loneliness,
I have the beginning of love - as beautiful as it
is feeble - as free as it is human.
I have the mountains that whisper secrets
held before men could speak,
I have the oceans that belches life on
the beach and caresses it in the sand,
I have a friend who smiles when he sees me,
who weeps when he hears my pain,
I have a future of wonder.
I have no past - the steps have disappeared
the wind has blown them away.

I stand in the heavens and on earth, I feel the breeze in my hair,
I can drink to the North Star and shout on a bar stool,
I can feel the teeth of a hangover, the joy of laziness,
The flush of my own rudeness,
the surge of my own ineptitude.
And I can know my own gentleness
as well as my wonder, my nobility.
I sense the call of creation,
I feel its swelling in my hands.
I can lust and love, eat and drink, sleep and rise,
But my easy God is gone - and in his stead
The mystery of loneliness and love!

My Issues with Interpretation (Parts I, II & III)

“You will find that many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view.”
- Obi-Wan Kenobi, Star Wars: Return of the Jedi (1983).

Part I: Thus Saith the Lord or Thus Saith the Preacher?
Last Sunday morning, I observed yet another pastor claim that they were speaking and preaching “What Thus Saith the Lord.” The expectation is that preachers are to present to the people “The Word of God” (understood as the Bible itself) and not their own personal opinion. In the process of preaching, this particular pastor offered a bold critique of scholars, theologians and philosophers who he considers as being too critical and analytical in discussing issues that seem “above and beyond” what he considers the Bible’s “simple” message. He accused these individuals of promoting their own personalities and philosophies of who Jesus was instead of preaching who the Bible says Jesus was. His concerns were apparently shared by many in the congregation who nodded, clapped and shouted to communicate their agreement.

I sat silently as such statements sparked a multitude of thoughts in my mind. For one thing, I think the act of interpretation is far more complicated than he claims. From my own research and experience in seminary, I have grown to be convinced that “nobody is neutral” and that we humans can’t help but form our own philosophical approaches to help us make sense of reality. I am persuaded that every human’s perspective is constantly responding to and being informed by their particular background, social standing, experience, culture, biases, prejudices and concerns. If every human authority is steeped in a particular perspective and bias, then I would deduce that the human authors of the Bible’s contents were also affected by human limitations, tendencies and cultural conditions. Add to that the fact that, a few millennia later, we are trying to interpret those ancient documents and one can see how the limits of humanity only serve to compound the complexities of the interpretive process.

Perhaps it is this difficulty that intimidates many of those who claim to accept certain ideas “by faith,” choosing not to dwell on the complex matters. But what is reality and how do we respond to this reality?

As humans, there are plenty of things that we hope to be true about ourselves and the universe. Many of us hope that there is someone listening to (and answering) our prayers, that our loved ones will be safe from harm, and that we are correct in our understanding of those things that provide our lives with a sense of meaning and purpose. Some of us even hope in a glorious afterlife and a warm reception into an otherworldly realm following the unavoidable moment when our last breath leaves our physical bodies. We humans seem to need something to hope for in order to function.

But if we are honest in facing reality we may discover that a large amount of what we had hoped to be true about ourselves and the universe may prove to be the result of flawed information, mistaken assumptions or grave misunderstandings. What do we do then?

In regards to perceiving reality, I think it is often the case that we humans tend to see what we want to see. We (including myself) rationalize and justify those things we hope to be true despite compelling arguments and evidence to the contrary. It seems that we devise ideas, theories, and meanings to help us understand the complexities and mysteries of reality. Considering this tendency, I deduce that it is unrealistic to expect that we humans can be anything but subjective in our understanding of reality.

By subjective, I am describing our own biased outlooks- perspectives which may not be immediately obvious or apparent to the perceptions of others. The opposite of subjectivity is objectivity. An objective observation is neutral, unbiased and impartial; it is based on facts rather than bias, prejudice, emotion or opinion. The social sciences testify that we humans can never be objective in our assessments because- no matter how hard we try to avoid it- we humans remain confined to our subjectivity.

Retired Episcopal Bishop and author John Shelby Spong offers a similar thought in an article he wrote for http://www.beliefnet.com/ almost 10 years ago.

No human being, no hierarchy, and no church can ever tell anyone who God is or what God is...All anyone can ever tell another person is how he or she or a particular institution believes it has experienced God. All God talk--including all scriptures, all creeds, all theology--is subjective, not objective.

Oh, how refreshing it would be if people would admit to the limits of their own humanity! I think that such honesty and humility would greatly add to the credibility of those who claim to offer us "the truth."

Part II: Attempts to Grasp the Ungraspable
In their book, Why God Won’t Go Away: Brain Science and the Biology of Belief authors and neuroscientists, Andrew Newberg, M.D., Eugene D’Aquili, M.D., Ph.D., and Vince Rause observe that “We interpret and funnel that which our brain tells us is real through our subjective self-awareness” (p. 143).

The authors, relying heavily on the results of their own research experiments and the testimonies of mystics from the world’s major religious traditions (especially contemplative Catholics and Buddhists engaging in meditation), seem to embrace the idea of an unknowable God (or Ultimate Reality) as opposed to a personal (or personalized) God. The authors perceive that the contemplative mystics of various religious traditions typically understand God as being “beyond all comprehension and description, and that all literal interpretations of [this] unknowable nature can never be more than symbols pointing toward a deeper, more mysterious truth” (p. 158).

The authors say a lot about a mysterious neurobiological state of transcendence they call “Absolute Unitary Being” describing it as “a state of pure awareness, a clear and vivid consciousness of no-thing…a sudden, vivid consciousness of everything as an undifferentiated whole” (p. 147). They claim that “[i]n Absolute Unitary Being, nothing is experienced but the pure and complete unity of all things, or of no-things. One thing cannot stand apart from another, so individual beings and objects cannot be perceived. The egotistical self cannot exist because it has no non-self against which to define itself. In the same fashion, God cannot be set apart from this ultimate oneness as an identifiable, personalized being- to do so would be to conceive of a God who is less than absolutely real” (p. 160-161).

They continue, “The perception of an absolute reality therefore, would demand that God be more than a knowable being, and make it clear that all personifications of God are symbolic attempts to grasp the ungraspable…the state of Absolute Unitary Being impresses upon anyone who experiences it, the realization that the God we can know is only a glimmer of a higher spiritual reality, in the same way, perhaps, that a single beam of light implies the glory of the sun…” (p. 161).

They conclude one of their points by saying, “If we are right, if religions and the literal Gods they define are in fact interpretations of transcendent experience, then all interpretations of God are rooted, ultimately, in the same experience of transcendent unity. This holds true whether this ultimate reality actually exists, or is only a neurological perception generated by an unusual brain state. All religions, therefore, are kin. None of them can exclusively own the realist reality, but all of them, at their best steer the heart and mind in the right direction.” (p. 160-162)

I think these authors are really on to something here when it comes to reality and the human attempts to understand that reality.

Part III: The Implications of Interpretation
It seems to me that it is often the case that an observable event occurs and we- the observers- are left to interpret and make sense of the objective facts by creating an understanding born from our subjective viewpoints and the selective evidence available to us. In other words, objective events happen and we come up with subjective explanations to make sense of those events.

One example of this is a simple as a dream. The other day I found myself thinking about the subjective nature of dream interpretation. I have known people (including myself) who have had dreams or visions of bizarre happenings and have understood these as “messages from God.” The interesting thing I began to note in myself is that when I awake from a dream, I immediately attempt to piece together the memorable details. It becomes a strange exercise when I try to identify the fuzzy figures from my dream by linking them to familiar faces and names of those I have known or seen before.

But how trustworthy is this process of interpretation? How do we know when a dream-like vision is an important message or the result of some unsettling neurobiological activity? Living in a country where many subscribe to a biblical worldview, it becomes relevant for us to consider reconsider those Bible stories where characters in the stories receive messages and directions from a dream which serve to warn or to inform them of a future event. Based on such stories, many throughout history have been led to believe that they too are capable of receiving and understanding such messages by interpreting their own dreams and visions.

But this is where I think things can get really nebulous. While I think that one could derive meaning from one’s subjective perception of reality, I take issue when others are expected to accept another’s subjective perception of reality- lest they be condemned by rejecting it.

I have spoken with several people who claim they have had dreams and visions where religious figures such as Jesus, Mary the mother of Jesus, or the Prophet Muhammad have appeared to them. When I hear such reports, questions begin to race through my mind, such as: “Did that really happen?” and “How do they know what Jesus, Mary or Muhammad looked like in order to identify them?” I am not denying that mystical experiences happen, but I wonder how accurate we are in reporting what we experience. Do we just see what we want to see?

Another example of human subjectivity in the face of an observable event is the crucifixion of the 1st century Palestinian Jew known to history as Jesus of Nazareth. Some would claim that history bears witness to this man’s death by torture on a wooden cross. (NOTE: Others would be more skeptical when they consider the sources of most of our information about Jesus’ crucifixion come from the records of his devoted followers who were already convinced that he was the Jewish Messiah and "The Savior of the World." Regardless, these sources indicate that Jesus died within hours of his crucifixion).

The death of Jesus would seem to describe both an objective and a measurable event. But the tricky part arises when those who observe such an event begin to attach meaning, value, or significance to the “cold, hard fact” of the matter. Adherents to a classic and popular form of Christianity would later come to believe that the physical death of Jesus of Nazareth carried a meaning and significance of cosmic and metaphysical proportions in which a sinless being (a divine-human hybrid) willingly and knowingly sacrificed themselves to atone for the sins of humanity and to reconcile humans to a personal God who required such a sacrifice. Many others would deny the attaching of any such significance to the death of Jesus and count this event as they would the untimely death of any other human being who is victimized by human violence. Over the last two millennia, scores of theologians and philosophers have tried to make sense of this event- trying to interpret and understand objective reality through their subjective human explanations and understandings.

This is a prime example that adds grayscale complexity to a reality that was already complicated to begin with. One event with an endless variety of explanations and thus the root of many conflicts and controversies in our modern world.

What is at stake here? I believe that issues of interpretation lead directly into corresponding issues of authority and trust. What sources of information are worthy of our trust? What authorities are we basing our conclusions upon? What are the implications of accepting such authorities? What is our responsibility as humans with the means to think for ourselves? The way I see it, the authorities we trust will have an inevitable effect on our view of reality. In the same manner, our views of reality will have an inescapable effect on our behaviors. And because of this, issues of interpretation carry both constructive and destructive potential.

For example, if I believe that my next door neighbor is subhuman and inferior to me then it is likely that I will not value their life as much as I value my own. Therefore, my actions toward them will inevitably serve as expressions of that belief. On the other hand, if I believe that my next door neighbor is a human of equal worth and deserving of fair treatment and mutual respect, then that belief will also find expression through my actions and interactions with them. Hence, one’s behavior is a natural consequence of one’s beliefs. That’s precisely why this business of interpretation is so risky and scary.

Imagine how helpful it would be if we could bring a biblical author from 2,500 years ago onto Book TV to discuss and answer questions about what they were thinking about and experiencing when they were writing their passages, poems, and psalms. It’s fun to imagine what such a Q&A would be like. I’d like to think that such an exchange would help to resolve a lot of the speculation fueling many of our modern-day debates regarding biblical interpretation. But until such an unlikely possibility becomes possible all we have to work with are fragments of an ancient world and our own opinionated and selectively informed viewpoints about what those fragments meant to the ancients then and what they mean for us in the present day.

I realize that my perspective is limited and I am willing to consider that I may be in error, but I am interested in dealing with reality, not avoiding it. I believe that only by confronting the complexities of reality can we hope to make any progress in this thing called life.

"Welcome to the confusion."- Carmelo Alvarez

The Risky Path of the Truth-Seeker

I am troubled by what seems to be anti-intellectualism amongst Christians. And Scriptures like Colossians 2:8 (about not being persuaded by deceptive philosophies) are troubling for me. Why? Because my studies indicate that ancient philosophers and theologians are largely responsible for much of what is now considered a mainstream understanding of the Christian faith. Ideas about God being "omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent” are concepts and terms rooted in ancient Greek philosophy. Doctrines like “original sin” and “atonement theory” were born from philosopher/theologians like Augustine and Anselm of Canterbury. Christianity began incorporating these and other philosophies as it spread throughout surrounding cultures.

However, I find it interesting and ironic that- in our modern age- those who claim to live by "biblical principles" also make entensive use of these "philosophical" ideas which have little to no basis in the Hebrew and Christian Scriptures. To reference Colossians 2:8, I can definitely see how many of these philosophies have obscured and distorted the life and teachings of Jesus throughout the past two millenia.

It seems that many biblical literalists only want to be informed by those intellectuals, philosophers and scientists whose findings reinforce the doctrines and beliefs that they want to defend. It's like Martin Luther King, Jr. said in his essay, “Tough-Mind, Tender-Heart”:

Soft-mindedness often invades religion. This is why religion has sometimes rejected new truth with dogmatic passion. Through edicts and bulls, inquisitions and excommunications, the church has attempted to prorogue truth and place and impenetrable stone wall in the path of the truth-seeker. The historical-philological criticism of the Bible is considered by the soft-minded as blasphemous, and reason is often looked upon as the exercise of a corrupt faculty…

Yes, using reason is often seen by many Christians as “the exercise of a corrupt faculty.” But why? Many caring Christians fear that if we question too much we will threaten our faith and lose our connection with God. They fear that we will lose belief or our “spiritual foundation.” I have heard them say things like, “I just believe the Bible...I don’t question it…The Bible is always right…The biblical writers were directed by God…If anything is wrong then I must be reading it wrong.”

To the contrary, there are those who desire to follow Jesus but who cannot seem to find encouragement in their congregations to apply critical thinking to their study of the Bible and the traditional doctrines of the Christian faith. I want to follow the essential teachings of Jesus, but not at the expense of abandoning my own ability to think, discern and reason. I don’t want to be forced to accept as literal any mythological stories and abstract doctrines that have proven to be founded on some ancient person’s misunderstanding, personal agenda, or limited knowledge. I don’t want to find myself feeling threatened by scientific discoveries just because they may contradict what I think the Bible says. And I definitely don’t want to damn most of the world’s people to hell because they don’t share a specific set of doctrinal beliefs.

I struggle with the idea that God is displeased when humans think critically about their beliefs. I suspect that many beliefs branded as necessary to the Christian faith are really additions added for various reasons which include control, conquest, categorization, and conversion…not because they were originally part of Jesus’ message.

Yes, I have to be on guard as to not let pride and bitterness consume me, but I have a conviction that seeking the truth is a good thing (although many of us would disagree as to what is meant by "the truth"). I am on a mission to find out what is really essential to the Christian faith…or better yet: what is essential to seeking God and following the way of Jesus (and what is not!).

I understand the concern of church members and I agree that the path of the seeker is a risky path. But I don’t want to fear the truth or any “new truth.” I want to hear different perspectives. I listen in hopes that my ideas about God might be enlarged and enlightened (although many would probably say that I am now "blind" and in the dark). Yes, I have flirted with my own disbelief to the point that a lot of atheists and agnostics make a lot of sense. And I suspect that they will continue to make sense as long as we Christians continue to preach a message that often comes off as irrelevant, ill-founded and outdated.

Maybe I am too skeptical and maybe I have grown too suspicious, but I want to believe that God wants us to exercise discernment and reason. Where do I go from here? I don’t know. But I have faith that I am being guided towards something worthwhile. I am encouraged by the lives of those who went through similar searches for "the truth": Thomas Jefferson, Marcus Borg, Eric Elnes, Alice Walker, Karen Armstrong, Krista Tippett, Martin Luther King, Jr., Thomas Merton, Mohandas K. Gandhi, Malcolm X, James Cone, Bart Ehrman, Thomas Paine, Bishop John Shelby Spong, and Jacques Kriel...to name a few.

I realize that I might be remembered among the most foolish people in history but I also realize that I might be right where I need to be. I still think I am onto something. The scary thing is that my pursuit of truth may cost me more than I ever expected to give. I just pray my journey leaves me with a tough mind and a tender heart.

The simple way of Brother Herman

Two weeks ago I was in Houston, Texas, with my wife and daughter attending a Cajun cookout in honor of my wife's cousin's high school graduation. While I was socializing with people who gathered for the celebration I had a conversation with one of my uncle-in-law’s relatives- an African-American Catholic friar known as Brother Herman. Brother Herman is a minister and a professor of Spanish who lives in a monastery with other friars in New Orleans. He was among those who survived Hurricane Katrina and the flood that it brought about in New Orleans. We talked for a while about the effect of the flood on his city and his vocation as a language professor. But our longest discussion was about faith.

He told me about what drew him into ministry and I told him about the experiences that led me to enroll in seminary. We talked about the current Pope and the offense he caused in his recent visit to Latin America when he praised the Portuguese missionaries for bringing civilization to people of Latin America (In response to this, Brother Herman said, "Civilization was there before those colonial-minded missionaries ever landed on shore...and so was God"). He told me about the mystic bent Pope John Paul II took as he got older in regards to the idea that there may be other paths to God. He encouraged me in my theological studies and advised me to keep a critical eye and to engage in a respectful critique of other faiths as well as my own. I asked him about his personal prayer life and he told me how he maintains his communion with God by attending Mass, taking communion and spending time in prayer every morning. We discussed how important it is for humans to really seek an ongoing and thriving connection to God and to not allow for rituals to lose their meaning because of routine.

We then shared our understandings of ministry and evangelism. He reminded me that ministry (a word so commonly and carelessly thrown around and attached to anything church-related) is really just another word for “service” and that ministry is not limited to the roles of priests, preachers and chaplains. He noted that while many feel called to such professional roles, those are not the only opportunities for service that exist in God’s kingdom. He said that we are all ministers in the sense that we all can be of service by using our gifts and abilities to help others. To illustrate this point, he told me a personal story of how he had low self-esteem until a priest helped him discover his own gift for languages by teaching him how to speak Spanish when he was 13 years old. Young Herman went through school, got better grades and honed his language skills until he became a language professor himself. He told me that he now lives out his ministry in and out of the classroom by "treating people nice" and "showing hospitality to them."

He shared his opinion on evangelism by saying, "I don’t believe that it is our place as Catholics to make other people Catholic. I believe our mission as Catholics is to do what Catholics do...serve others." His words we so simple yet they summed up what I've been trying to articulate for quite some time now. Years ago, I used to think that having witty answers to a skeptic’s questions was the best way to convince an unbeliever that the gospel was true. Nowadays, I find myself leaning towards the belief that our most effective and faithful witness to the world might be our everyday acts of service, hospitality, compassion and kindness. This is the witness that I think truly moves people to connect with God and others. MaybeI'm going too far in making it an either/or type of situation, but I at least want to do more to incorporate the latter approach in my relationships with others.

Ultimately, my conversation with Brother Herman left me to wonder: Perhaps our goal shouldn't be to pressure others to follow Jesus, but to do what a follower of Jesus does in the Spirit by which Jesus did it. A way of life where we do good for others - not as a means of getting a heavenly reward or avoiding an eternal punishment- but because that is what we do as followers of Jesus.

I wonder: Could the gospel really be that simple? Yep. Simple enough for a child to understand it and apply it.

People need hope and meaning (and so do I)

Recently I enjoyed a long conversation with a cousin and long-time friend of mine who I have been estranged from for the past five years (that’s another story). We spoke for hours about our dreams, our life choices, our careers and our faith journeys. While discussing faith, we talked about the new ways we have learned to read and approach the Bible and the different theological paths we have taken based on that approach. It was comforting to share our common questions, concerns, confusions and understandings about the Scriptures. At this point, my old friend warned me, “Now, have you thought about how your new approach to the Bible might affect those who are close to you?” I was stunned for a moment and then I nodded slowly. He continued, “I don’t know how far you’ve gone already but if you go further down this path things will probably start to make a lot more sense to you- and you may even feel closer to where Jesus was- but at the same time, the things you are learning and embracing probably won’t make much sense to a lot of your church members.” I sat silently in order to soak in what he said. I eventually replied, “Yeah, I’ve thought about it and the idea of being rejected because of my beliefs scares the hell out of me…But I feel like I’m on to something.” Seek and we shall find, right?

We then talked about those Christian pastors who pursue higher education and learn a lot of interesting and progressive theology but who decide to set aside those ideas when they are ministering to their congregations. Now keep in mind, I’m not seeking to be a pastor, but I knew what he was getting at. It’s the same question that my financial advisor (who practices Islam) brought to me a month ago when he heard I was attending seminary. His question was, “What are you going to do when your personal theology no longer matches up with the beliefs of the masses- especially your fellow church members?”

What do you do, indeed? I’ve heard it said before that we don’t have to think alike to love alike. While I think churches, families and communities should be united in love and respect for each other, I think it is unrealistic to expect any group of humans to be totally united in thought. Perhaps we can agree on some things we believe to be central, but not all things. Why? Because, as different as we humans are, I don’t think it is possible to get two people (if they are honest) to fully embrace the same opinions and thoughts on every spiritual, theological, and socio-political issue. I think when people have the expectation of coming to total agreement on every issue someone ends up silencing themselves or compromising what they believe to be true in order to maintain the appearance of unity.

I don’t want to be unloving towards others, but I also don’t want to compromise what I think is true. I also don’t think others need to compromise what they believe to be true in order to accommodate me.

But back to the question at hand: What do you do when your personal theology differs from the theology of your congregation? I recently posed this question to Marti Steussy, one of my seminary professors in whose counsel I trust. Her advice dealt with “respecting people's need for hope and meaning.” She sent me an e-mail that said, “When it comes to truth, human beings are more concerned about the kind of truth that will help them live with hope and a sense of meaning than they are about facts.” She said that I need to always “understand what's at stake” and to “invite people to talk honestly” about an issue where they aren’t just “rehearsing rationalizations.” She also warned me that if I am “going to challenge something” then I need to “do it for a constructive reason” and that I should “have something to offer that builds up.” She explained, “If you give people something that will increase their hope and sense of being able to do something meaningful in life, they can accept it in a way they just won't if they think all you are doing is tearing things down.” She also said that “if the Bible is involved, try to raise the questions out of the biblical material itself” and that it is often more effective to “appeal to common wisdom… that connects with most people” instead of using a lot of intellectual and theological terms that will only leave people looking “glassy-eyed.” She concluded with an allusion to 1 Corinthians 13 advising me to “Love folks and care about them.”

I thought Marti’s advice was helpful and faithful to the teachings and example of Jesus. People don’t need to worship false idols and faulty ideas, but they do need hope and meaning in order to function. I have to respect that. I must admit that I am uncomfortable with the idea of learning something I believe to be true and valuable and then being expected to dismiss it because the people around me don’t agree. However, I think there are times when it is wise to hold back certain information when it appears that it may threaten someone else’s most cherished ideas about God and the Bible. Perhaps in loving people we learn the wisdom that will help us to know how to use our knowledge and when it is most appropriate to share it.

Ultimately, I believe that there will come times when individuals will need to show integrity and hold firm to their personal convictions despite what the majority says. And I think that wisdom is required to discern such times. But I don’t think we have to totally agree with each other in order to love each other. The Gospels say that Jesus wanted his followers to be united in love, but I don’t recall Jesus ever commanding us to be uniform in our thought.

I admit that it is much easier to love and spend time with those we agree with theologically because it is difficult and uncomfortable to love and spend time with those who we disagree with on such deeply held beliefs. But Jesus didn’t give us an easy or convenient gospel, did he? Instead, he calls us to live in a way that will continually challenge and transform us. And sometimes that transformation is painful.

Salespeople & the Great Commission

I’ve never been a good salesperson. Allow me to explain. I’ve sold used appliances at a Sears outlet while I was in college and I was helpful to my customers and all, but I didn’t do well when it came to getting people to buy something they didn’t set out to buy (a maintenance agreement, for example). The thing is…I don’t like putting other people in that kind of situation because I hate those situations where it feels like someone is trying to pressure me into buying something that I hadn’t planned to buy. I hate being solicited. I've had times when a salesperson comes to my house unnannounced and I invite them in only to engage in a seemingly friendly conversation in which they are gathering clues about me that will help them make the sale. They use persuasion tactics in which they describe your problems and offer their product as the solution, using slick techniques that back you into a corner where it looks like the only wise decision for you and your family is to buy what they are selling. That really irritates me.

All of this irritates me mainly because when people talk to you in this “sales” mode they don’t seem like they are truly concerned about you or your needs. Instead, they seem to be talking to you as a means to an end, or some desired result (more business, more money, more sales, more commission, etc.). Matter of fact, when people get into this "sales" mode they don't even seem human anymore. Their voice changes and so does the look in their eye. In their calculating glances, you have now become a potential customer (or convert). I also see this happen a lot in religion especially when the issue of conversion comes up.

Throughout my life I have been approached both by people belonging to the Nation of Islam and by people belonging to various Christian denominations who have evangelized to me by using “friendly conversation” as a means to convert me to their belief system. The fact that this happens makes me reflect on those people that join a religious tradition because it is promoted as a product to buy instead of being attracted to a religion because they are seeing people’s lives being transformed by it. Hey, show me a humble servant who is living a transformed life with sincerity and integrity and you've got my attention; but if you approach me like a "spiritual salesperson" you will piss me off.

Let me speak about my own faith for a second. I consider myself a Christian, a follower of God in the way of Jesus. And to be honest, I might not be a Christian had someone not pulled me to the side and talked to me about Jesus and salvation when I was younger. I suppose God works in mysterious ways. But in recent years, I have come to question a lot of what tradition has taught us about what it means to follow Jesus and what it means to have salvation. I wonder if we have distorted Jesus' message and mission over the centuries. For example, were followers of Jesus supposed to be salespeople or servants? Were we assigned to go out and "win souls" or were we sent out to help people live in ways that glorify the God that Jesus talked about? Were we supposed to get souls into heaven or were we supposed to live out the values of the kingdom of God and teach others to do the same? From what I read in the Gospels, Jesus told his disciples (students) to go forth spreading the “good news,” healing the sick, casting out demons, blessing others, and making and baptizing disciples of all nations (more students) who would be taught to obey the commands that Jesus gave them. And come to think of it, wasn’t Jesus’ greatest command for us to love God with our entire being and to love our neighbors and enemies as much as we love ourselves?

I fear that much evangelism leans more toward what I call a "password theology," the belief that only those who know the proper passwords have access to God. We seem to focus more on getting people to say the right thing instead of showing them how to do the right thing (and I say this realizing that many good-hearted people may disagree as to what the "right thing" would be). I believe that people should be motivated to join a religious tradition because they see transformed lives and feel sincere love, not because they were manipulated by threats and/or sales techniques.

What is my credo?

I have just finished another exciting semester of seminary where I am studying theology. I just completed a course on the relationship between religion and science. In the few courses I have taken thus far, I have discovered new perspectives that have challenged the embedded assumptions of my own theology and expanded my understanding of how the Spirit of God might be operating in the universe.

This past week, I took some paid time off from my day-job so that I could finish writing my final research papers. When I wasn’t writing, I was spending a lot of time talking and laughing with my some of my fellow seminarians who are in different degree programs. I kept hearing them talk about finishing their “credos” for their systematic theology courses. I haven’t taken a systematic theology course yet, but from what I understand, a credo, like a “creed”, is a statement of one’s beliefs. In these credos, my classmates were asked to fill 30 double-spaced pages with their beliefs concerning God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit, the Bible, the gospel, sin, the future, and the Church. I am sure this is not an easy task. But it made me wonder what my personal credo would be. How would I explain my beliefs about those subjects?

I know many churches give their members a statement of faith that lists that particular church's core beliefs. But how many of those statements do the members really believe? What really matters in regards to their faith? If some members don't agree with all of the statements, does that diminish their desire to seek God and follow the way of Jesus? Should churches expect people to just swallow all of these claims without giving them space and time to examine, question and even reject some of them?

I can't help but wonder: Did Jesus ask his disciples (students) to sign a statement of faith before they joined him? No. He just extended an invitation to them saying, "Follow me." It seems that Jesus was more concerned that his followers had a close relationship with God and himself than he was that they have all the right theological answers. Plus, no matter what faith claims we make, our behaviors will reveal our true beliefs anyway.

Although I am hesitant about stating a belief that may change based on future understandings and experiences, I thought I should try to write my own credo. At least a short one, for now. I will give this a shot even though I realize how easy it is for us to put God and other people in boxes and categories that suit our understandings. We categorize them because it helps us to make sense out of the world around us. I understand that and I don’t think we can help it. Some neuroscientists would say that our brain is hard-wired in such a way that it demands we try to find clarity when we are confused.

But nevertheless, I wanted to give it a try, knowing that most of this could change over time (and I am actually curious to see if and how it will change over time). I think our theologies (ideas about God) should remain somewhat flexible lest we think we have conquered God and understood God’s Spirit, being and intentions completely. I personally don’t think we humans are capable of such a thing.

So here it is. My statement of faith, as of today:

God: I believe there is a God but I still have many questions. My faith is grounded in reflecting on and praying to the everlasting, ever-creative and ever-surprising Spirit of God for blessing, guidance, inspiration, provision and forgiveness.

Jesus: Even though I often fall short, I strive to become a follower of God in the way of Jesus by allowing my life to be challenged and transformed by his teachings and example.

Scriptures: While I take seriously the stories, testimonies, wisdom, insights, and theologies that are found in the Hebrew Bible and the Christian Scriptures, I believe the Spirit of God is also known in acts of love and words of truth. Therefore, I am open to the various ways in which love and truth are revealed and manifested in the world- be it through nature, science, or other religions and faith traditions. I also try to be receptive and open to the mysterious ways in which the Spirit of God might be communicating to us in our modern times.

Evil: I think that evil forces exist in our world; however I think we humans are often our own worse enemies. Nowadays, I have little use for ideas about devils and demons being the sources of evil. I think the human heart is fully capable of imagining and committing vicious acts towards ourselves and others without the help of an "enemy of God" or a "devil". I understand "Satan/the devil" as a way to personify the fact that humans have dark sides to our gifts of imagination and free will that often rebel against the good tendencies that we are also capable of.

Purpose: I find purpose in wrestling with my personal questions and figuring the rest out as I go along. In the meantime, I try to live out my faith in actions of love and faithfulness. I am sustained in my journey by the faith that a creative, mysterious, loving force is inviting me and guiding me towards love, truth, reconciliation, transformation and blessing.