Tuesday, January 29, 2008

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

Monday, January 14, 2008

"He" still touches people

I play bass for the choir of the church where I have attended Sunday morning services for the past six years. Our choir and our church are in a period of reorganization and change and during this time we haven’t rehearsed songs as often as we used to. On many a Sunday morning, we come with no idea of what songs we are going to play. Therefore, it has recently become our practice to arrive to the church building an hour before our service begins so that we can go through a quick run-through of the 2 to 3 songs we plan to perform- a decision largely based on what vocalists and musicians show up that morning. Yesterday, one of the young men from our pastoral staff was asked to sing a traditional hymn/spiritual during the service. He was asked to sing, mainly because we were short on songs and partly because he- like many in our congregation (excluding myself)- was raised in the Missionary Baptist tradition of Christianity where such songs carry a lot of emotional and psychological weight. He sung a song from memory, called “He Touched Me.” I must admit, while I felt like an outside observer, I couldn’t help but to be moved and humbled by the sincerity of the performance, the simplicity of the song’s lyrics and the enthusiastic response of the congregation.

The song’s lyrics (allegedly written by 20th century Southern gospel songwriters Bill and Gloria Gaither) describe a meaningful experience that seems to go beyond articulation (“something happened”). Here are the words:
He touched me, O he touched me,
And O the joy that floods my soul!
Something happened, and now I know,
He touched me and made me whole.

Shackled by a heavy burden,
'Neath a load of guilt and shame,
Then the hand of Jesus touched me,
And now I am no longer the same.

He touched me, O he touched me,
And O the joy that floods my soul!
Something happened, and now I know,
He touched me and made me whole.

Since I met this Blessed Savior,
Since he cleansed and made me whole,
I will never cease to praise him;
I'll shout it while eternity rolls.

He touched me, O he touched me,
And O the joy that floods my soul!
Something happened, and now I know,
He touched me and made me whole.


I notice that the lyrics do not contain an exegetical analysis of a biblical passage, nor do they give an exhaustive systematic theological credo. Instead, they contain subjective and basic statements of religious identity and affirmation that humbly declare, “the hand of Jesus touched me, and now I am no longer the same.” While I believe that such bold and subjective claims can be very dangerous (especially if one's mind is closed to the meaningfulness that other realities have for other people) and while the lyrics themselves had little meaning for me personally, I was willing to still my criticism for a moment and to let them be what they were.

I sat in my seat and tried my best to allow my senses to fully take in the experience that was unfolding before eyes as I sat there listening to both the vocalist, the pianist and the congregation. There were outbursts of emotion and tears of relief as many shouted out their praises- nodding their heads as each line was sung. I was watching this song bring comfort, hope and meaning to these people. I could imagine their burdens becoming weightless. From their response, I could tell that this song touched them in the deepest recesses of their beings.

Despite my own doubts and hostility towards traditional Christianity’s creedal assertions, simple/simplistic answers and dogmatic claims (almost all of which I find to be less than credible), seeing the effect that such a song has on people was enough to convince me that this “heart space” in people- that part of their being where the sacred is cherished, honored and worshipped- is a place that I must take seriously. I’d dare even say I must treat this heart space as “holy ground” that I must tread with the utmost caution and respect. The fact that this “holy ground” exists in people neither makes them any lesser or better than me or anyone else, but it does mean that- if I hope to engage people in any transformational dialogue- I need to also acknowledge that which “touches” them.

This approach echoes a disturbing idea brought up to me months ago by a dear friend of mine (a fellow seminarian). He believes that we all need each other in order to progress in this life. He asserts that despite our political, religious, cultural, sexual and socio-economic differences, we cannot write off "the other" as if they had no value and must treat those who disagree with us (who are often our "enemies") as "central and vital" to us in order to "fully realize the salvation of the world." This is a hard truth that I don't like wrestling with, but wrestle I must because I believe he is right.

I admit that I have some radical ideas and little patience with tradition and supernaturalism, but last Sunday's worship service was enough to give me pause. However, a willingness to respect other people's beliefs is by no means a reason for any of us to stop asking the critical questions about the nature, reality and implications of those beliefs. Nevertheless, I continue to be amazed at the "staying power" of both the stories of Jesus, people’s experiences with these stories and their own ideas about who Jesus was and is for them. These stories and ideas have “touched” people for over two-thousand years and the stories are still being told (even though I suspect the original story has been heavily embellished over time). But at least three essential questions remain: "What do these stories mean for us now?", "How does all of this 'touch' us?" and "How will we seek to understand and work with each other going forward?"

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Some "Folk" Music that Touched Me


Last night, I was searching in the iTunes music database when I stumbled across one of the most moving and majestic songs I’ve heard in quite a while. It is a song written and performed by Joni Mitchell called “Woodstock” from her 1970 album, Ladies of the Canyon. As the story goes, Mitchell wrote the song based on the reflections that her friends shared with her after attending the 1969 Woodstock Festival that took place in Bethel, New York on the land of dairy farmer, Max Yasgur. Mitchell was advised by her manager to not attend the event and wrote this song partially out of regret.

Mitchell’s first verse describes an imaginary (and symbolic) encounter and conversation between two travelers on a road towards Woodstock who happen to share a mutual search for a sense of identity, the meaning of life, and freedom for their souls.

I came upon a child of God
He was walking along the road
And I asked him where are you going
And this he told me...

I'm going on down to Yasgur's farm
I'm going to join in a rock 'n' roll band
I'm going to camp out on the land
I'm going to try an' get my soul free...
From the first arresting lyric (“I came upon a child of God…”)- a line which alone could inspire an essay plunging the depths of its theology and conviction- I was ushered into the essence of the song by Mitchell’s shrill voice and the muted notes of her keyboard (the song’s only instrumental accompaniment).

She then proceeds to a chorus that strikes an awesome balance between mind-blowing scientific discovery (“We are stardust...billion year old carbon”) and heart-stirring religious metaphor that alludes to the Hebrew Bible’s myth of Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden. *

We are stardust
We are golden
And we've got to get ourselves
Back to the garden…

...We are stardust (Billion year old carbon)
We are golden (Caught in the devil's bargain)
And we've got to get ourselves
Back to the garden
This chorus resonated with me mainly because it explored some heavy ideas that I studied recently in a colloquium course on the relationship between religion, theology, spirituality and science. Never before have I seen such ideas articulated in song.

In the second verse, Mitchell responds to the answer of the first traveler by voicing the concerns of the second traveler, who admits to feeling like “a cog” in a industrial society marked by pollution and consumption (a society very much like our own).

Then can I walk beside you
I have come here to lose the smog
And I feel to be a cog
in something turning

Well maybe it is just the time of year
Or maybe it's the time of man
I don't know who I am
But you know life is for learning
Mitchell continues with her third and final verse, which uses colorful language to describe a transformative vision of a peaceful society.

By the time we got to Woodstock
We were half a million strong
And everywhere there was song
and celebration

And I dreamed I saw the bombers
Riding shotgun in the sky
And they were turning into butterflies
Above our nation
I experience chills every time the notes of Mitchell’s keyboard follow her voice to a higher octave as she sings the word “butterflies” in this verse. Her lyric of “the bombers…turning into butterflies” also struck me as a beautiful and inspiring vision that finds an interesting parallel alongside the 8th century Hebrew poet/prophet Isaiah’s vision of a day when the nations “will hammer their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks”; a day when nations “will not lift up sword” or “learn war” any more (Isaiah 2:15).

Overall, I was highly impressed with Mitchell’s spell-binding artistry. Throughout the song, her emotive lyrical content was animated and enhanced by her amazing vocal control, expansive range, and instrumental simplicity. Such minimalism enabled me to fully appreciate her ability to hit and hold those high notes that sent her poetic words into flight and then landed them gracefully in a lower range.

Being a visual artist/musician/poet/writer myself, I have found it challenging to write lyrics that articulate and pay homage to the tension that exists between doubt, discovery, fear, and hope; but Mitchell steps up to the challenge and succeeds. Mitchell's “Woodstock” is a majestic protest song that incorporates scientific and religious insight, nostalgia, social commentary, and the hope of a visionary.

This song led me to read more about Joni. In doing so, I found a resonance with who Joni Mitchell is. She is described by herself and by others as being an insightful, creative, friendly and somewhat introverted renaissance person who is able to function simultaneously as a visual artist (her professed first love), a musician and a poet in an age when many would pressure such individuals to focus on one outlet of creative expression and to discard the others.

Ultimately, I was inspired by Joni. I hope my creative works can embody and express my tensions, ideas, emotions and convictions as beautifully and as effectively as Joni does in this song.

Apparently, I’m not the only one who is impressed with Joni. Some of her admirers made a really good-looking and user-friendly site about her at http://www.jonimitchell.com/. The site features her biography, lyrics, interviews and an online gallery of her 256 paintings (paintings that she doesn't sell and rarely showcases).
___________________

* NOTE: Being a theology student, I have to point out that while the Eden story in the third chapter of the Hebrew Bible’s Book of Genesis mentions a serpent it never mentions or identifies this serpent as being either “the devil” or "the satan (the accuser)"

Wednesday, November 14, 2007

QUOTE: Ernest Renan on Jesus' contribution to religion


"Never has any one been less a priest than Jesus, never a greater enemy of forms, which stifle religion under the pretext of protecting it. By this we are all his disciples and his successors; by this he has laid the eternal foundation-stone of true religion; and if religion is essential to humanity, he has by this deserved the Divine rank the world has accorded to him. An absolutely new idea, the idea of a worship founded on purity of heart, and on human brotherhood, through him entered into the world -- an idea so elevated that the Christian Church ought to make it its distinguishing feature, but an idea which, in our days, only few minds are capable of embodying."
- Ernest Renan (1823-1892), 19th century French philosopher and writer, taken from the fifth chapter of his 1863 book, The Life of Jesus (Vie de Jesus)

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

I'm a weak evangelist trying to be a better human

The idea of a personal, loving, intervening, responsive, and self-revealing God has never seemed farther for me than it is right now. It is becoming less and less-convincing for me.

Over the past few years, Christianity (as is often preached) has become almost impossible for me to believe. I can understand why the Gospel (as commonly preached) is so hard for many to believe in nowadays. Here, I paraphrase the 19th century European historian/philosopher Renan who once noted the irony that “the miracles that originally inspired belief in the gospel may eventually be the same things that keep later generations from believing.”

Likewise, it’s hard for me to take seriously the metaphysical and supernatural occurrences that seem to be so prevalent in the scriptures of the global religions yet so absent in life as we often experience it.

I would like to follow the simple, essential teachings of the human being known as Jesus of Nazareth, but not at the cost of believing incredible ideas and embracing the implications of a belief that condemns most of the earth’s inhabitants. I also don’t want a faith that is frightened, arrogant, or desperate. If anything, I am desperate for the truth and I try to be open to the many sources that it may come from (be it through science, archeology, experience, or the wisdom of another religious and ethical tradition). This makes me a weak evangelist, but I hope it makes me a better human.

A friend of mine who attends seminary with me and also maintains a blog of his own, makes a powerful point in his post "Pondering Holy Destruction". He says, "Any theology, if it is to be of any use, needs to have as a conversation partner the findings of the empirical sciences." I would also add that such a faith-if it is to be relevant- must be in constant dialogue with the complex (and often harsh) realities of human existence such as genocides, floods, stray bullets, body counts, etc.

How can we continue to pontificate and debate over metaphysical notions and otherworldly realms (that we aren’t sure even exist) while the suffering of our fellow humans (who we know exist!) takes place right outside our windows?

I appreciate honest, humble and helpful people and have found such people in a wide variety of religious traditions. However, I have less patience for those who insist on following their scriptural authorities despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary. I understand their anxiety, but I no longer share it.

It seems to me that much of the world’s religious history is a testament to the power of the human imagination and the human need for meaning. The whole enterprise of belief seems to be so rooted in so much speculation that I find it difficult to imagine evangelizing to others with the claim that one’s religious tradition possesses the only, true way to understand reality. I believe that all of us ground our beliefs (and disbeliefs) in those things we want to be true about the universe.

Instead of debating and speculating about otherworldly realms, I think we should realize how interconnected all of our lives are on this earth and work to help and serve the real people we see everyday. The lyrics of John Lennon’s classic song, “Imagine” make more sense to me now than ever before.