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Losing our religion?

Losing our religion?

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Still shop of beginning of ABC news story on US religious decline

Last month, ABC News broadcast a 10-minute report titled, Is America losing its religion? So, more than just a sound bite. It began with the story of a Catholic parish in Buffalo, New York, with a large building but an ever-shrinking congregation. It formally closed last summer and the property has been sold.

The reporter spoke with a priest with the title “Diocese Vicar for Renewal and Development.” Despite that title, this priest’s primary role seemed to be managing the closing of parishes too small to continue. In the past twenty years, he said, their diocese had closed half its congregations, and more closures were to come. This process was euphemistically called the “Road to Renewal.”

The report discussed how this trend was broad based and transcended denominations. Examples were given of evangelical Protestant and mainline Protestant congregations in similar straights. The now oft-repeated statistic was cited that less than half of American adults say they are members of a religious community, a dramatic drop from 75 years ago. The result: congregations by the thousands are closing every year.

When asked why all this is happening, the Catholic priest gave an unintentionally ironic answer. “We’ve become a culture that doesn’t need God as much as we think we do.” Well, I think I know what he was trying to say, and I think he is wrong. Not needing God isn’t the issue.

Several times in the report, religious leaders expressed the view that in turning away from religion, people were turning away from God. I would challenge them to support that conclusion. Surveys show that belief in God has remained steady, including among those who have left organized religion.

Personally, I know of many people who have stopped being active church members yet remain people of faith, often with serious spiritual practices and voluntary service activities. But just as important, the converse also has to be admitted. Namely, that churches have always had many members who were spiritually shallow and often did little more than attend worship services, aka “go to church.”

For churches today, that disconnect has finally become too wide to maintain and is at a breaking point. Increasingly, people with a deep spirituality are finding the institutional church irrelevant. They are no longer interested in maintaining buildings, serving on boards and committees, attending rote worship services, and the other routines of church life.

On the other hand, the people who belonged to churches out of habit and family tradition are also disappearing. The “whiff of religion” they received from church isn’t enough anymore to keep them involved. Or just as likely, their children who have become adults, see no point in going through the religious motions their parents went through. As to anyone considering joining a church, the seemingly unending parade of sex and financial scandals and the polarizing politicization of many churches are all big turnoffs.

Today, churches are often dominated by retirees who remember when churches were full and often the center of people’s social lives. They don’t understand why things have changed, or don’t want to understand. They ensure that the proposals coming down the pike year-after-year for “renewing the church” ultimately go nowhere because they don’t want the church to change. They like it the way it is. And as their numbers shrink, so do their churches. Last one out, turn off the lights.

Unfortunately, many of those recruited for church leadership roles, including clergy, hang on to the old church traditions. It was disheartening to hear this relatively young priest repeating the worn-out trope that people are leaving church because they are leaving God. He needs to get out more.

But that’s the danger of institutions: at some point self-preservation becomes their primary goal. And leaders are selected for how strongly they affirm that goal. Yet the point comes when even a sinking ship’s captain has to cry out, “Abandon ship!” and direct everyone into a lifeboat or to grab a life vest and jump. The ship of the church may not be at that point, but it’s getting close.

While those committed to the institutional church see a society skidding into spiritual darkness, I see plenty of evidence of spiritual vitality. We are certainly in a time of exploration where new language, practices, theologies, and philosophies are being tried out and tested. Much may seem strange to the traditionalists, and much will be discarded along the way. But as individuals and in groups, in person and online, people everywhere are actively searching for a spirituality that meaningfully connects their life, in all its dimensions, with the Creative Energy that is our origin and the source of hope and renewal in all our difficulties.

What options does the church have to respond to this new spirituality? I think this popular organizational maxim is as good as any: Lead, follow, or get out of the way.

If you appreciate these posts, remember to “Like”, share, and subscribe, if you haven’t done so already. In the mystical world of search algorithms, this all helps “spread the word.” And add a comment, if you’re so moved, to be part of the conversation. Finally, thank you for your financial support (see the “DONATE” box), which covers blog expenses and helps me to keep doing this.

No more kings

No more kings

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Actress Claire Foy trying on her crown in a scene from the TV series The Crown
Claire Foy as Queen Elizabeth II in season 1 of The Crown

This coming Sunday I am the guest pastor at a nearby church. At my request, I will be preaching on the Gospel text for Thanksgiving, Matthew 6:25-34, from the Sermon on the Mount. Officially this Sunday is Christ the King, which a while ago I decided to ignore. The following is a post I wrote a couple years ago to explain why I think creating Christ the King was a bad idea and needs to go. I will use a few of the points here to explain to my host congregation why they are hearing a Thanksgiving sermon, rather than one for CTK.

Recently I’ve been watching the latest (and next to last) season of The Crown on Netflix. The multi-year program is the semi-fictional account of the life and reign of the late Queen Elizabeth II. The center of this season has been the final marital breakdown and divorce of the Prince and Princess of Wales.

The recurring themes of The Crown are the obvious ones. Questions like what role does a monarch play in a democracy, how can the ancient traditions of monarchy be brought into the modern world, and how do all the “lesser royals”, including the heir apparent, keep from going crazy when they frankly have so little to do.

Queen Elizabeth is portrayed as having some awareness of these issues but not much insight into what is to be done about them. Her husband and eldest son show more practical concern than she does (it was Prince Philip who made the case for televising Elizabeth’s 1953 coronation). Where Elizabeth is completely befuddled is knowing what to do about all the disintegrating marriages in her family. The resulting sorrow and heartbreak are the most moving parts of the series and an overarching sadness pervades the story.

I thought of all this as we approached the last Sunday of the church year, designated in many churches as Christ the King. I decided a couple years ago I would no longer observe this festival. Last Sunday was simply designated as “The Last Sunday after Pentecost” and it served as our Thanksgiving worship service.

Christ the King has been on the liturgical calendar for less than a century, in contrast with most festivals which are over a thousand years old. It was made a feast day by Pope Pius XI in 1925. Originally in October, it was moved to the last Sunday of the church year in 1969, which is about the time many Protestant churches adopted it.

Ostensibly Pius XI’s goal was to challenge the growing power of authoritarian governments. “Christ is the true king, not you,” in other words. But it was also the case that the Pope was in a long-running struggle with the Italian government to save some remnant of the Catholic Church’s once formidable political power. A short time later, Mussolini agreed to the establishment of the Vatican State, the postage stamp size “country” in the middle of Rome, ruled by the Catholic Church.

That part of the story is mostly forgotten now and was not even thought of when Protestants adopted Christ the King for their usage. Today, it is understood as a hope-filled look to the future establishment of God’s rule on earth, and a challenge to forces of domination by the example of Christ’s power of service and compassion, symbolized by the cross.

But as the adage goes, saying it doesn’t necessarily make it so. Words have meaning, and the symbol of “Christ the King” simply doesn’t communicate the laudable message intended by liturgical officials. “Christ the king” is not a biblical idea, for the obvious reason that the common understanding of “king” does not fit either the earthly Jesus or the risen Christ.

The Windsors are a pathetic last gasp of England’s centuries long monarchy. They retain the wealth and soap opera lives but now lack their ancestors’ power to use and abuse. Most of Europe’s monarchies ended in the violence of war or revolution. The few remaining kings and queens know their role is largely public relations, promoting tourism and national industry.

Presumably such kings are not what are in mind when thinking of Christ the king. But what then? Those revolutions (including our own) happened for a reason. Overall, kings have an abominable record. The ideal of just and benevolent monarchy lacks one thing: actual examples!

You can learn all you need to know about the Bible’s view of kings by reading the story in the 8th chapter of Samuel. Tired of their Judges, the elders of Israel come to Samuel demanding he appoint a king, like those of the countries around them. Samuel knows this will be a disaster and angrily describes the calamities that will befall them. But they won’t listen, and God tells Samuel to go ahead, give them a king, but don’t take it personally, “for they have not rejected you, but they have rejected me”. The biblical saga that follows demonstrates again and again the truth of Samuel’s warning.

In the New Testament, Jesus never refers to himself as a king. His response to Pilate’s question if he is a king is basically, “you can call me whatever you want.” Even more telling is the story in John 6. After feeding the crowd with the loaves and fishes, they want to make Jesus king, but he runs away. Paul, writing earlier than the gospels, also never calls Jesus a king.

What is prominent in both the gospels and Paul is the phrase basileia tou theou, or “kingdom of God.” But for Jesus this is really a miniature parable in itself, and is the subject of most of his parables. The kingdom is at hand, Jesus says, it is in your midst, it is within you, it is spread upon the earth but people don’t see it.

This kingdom has no earthly equivalent but is an ironic, anti-kingdom, if you will. It is the end of all external rule, giving way to an internal and all-pervasive truth and life of the heart. Jesus and Paul both called it love, empowered by the Spirit.

No image of “king”, whether from the past or present, could ever invoke such an astonishing mystery, the “good news” which Jesus proclaimed. “Christ the king” invokes confusion at best, if not an outright contradiction of Jesus’ message. Like most monarchs, it needs to go.

If you appreciate these posts, remember to “Like”, share, and subscribe, if you haven’t done so already. In the mystical world of search algorithms, this all helps “spread the word.” And add a comment, if you’re so moved, to be part of the conversation. Finally, thank you for your financial support (see the “DONATE” box), which covers blog expenses and helps me to keep doing this.

Time for Luther to sit down

Time for Luther to sit down

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Scene from the movie "Luther"
Scene from the 2003 film “Luther”

Today is Halloween for most people. In church history, October 31 is considered the start of the Protestant Reformation in 1517. Tradition has it (the history is a little murky) that on that day, Martin Luther, an Augustinian friar, nailed a list of 95 propositions for debate on the door of All Saints Church in Wittenberg, in the German state of Saxony. Soon, thanks to printers looking for excuses to use their new presses, copies of the 95 Theses (as they became known) were spreading across Europe, igniting a firestorm.

Luther’s list was the culmination of a running argument he had been having with church officials over the sale of indulgences. It had been sparked by the arrival in Luther’s neighborhood of perhaps the supreme indulgence seller, one John Tetzel. Let me stop here and say that if you have any interest in this affair, I highly recommend watching Luther, the 2003 biopic staring Joseph Fiennes (Ralph’s brother) in the title role. (Be aware that, by a weird coincidence, there is another 2003 movie called Luther which about a British detective.) The film also features Alfed Molina as a wonderfully twisted Tetzel, and Peter Ustinov, in his last film, as Luther’s protector, Prince Frederick the Wise.

The sale of indulgences was probably the epitome of the corruption and superstition of the medieval Catholic church. While the Renaissance and its new thinking was expanding, it was still very limited. Luther makes clear that 1517 Germany, and by implication much of Europe, was still mired in the Middle Ages.

Indulgences were essentially heavenly get-out-of-jail free cards. They were certificates authorized by the pope releasing the person for whom they were bought from a certain number of years in purgatory (more money = more years canceled). That purgatory was a thing, and that the pope could get your deceased relatives out of it, was part of the medieval world view which, like spinning plates in a circus act, was destined to soon crash to the floor.

In a touching scene in the movie, a young woman of obviously limited intellect, comes Luther to proudly show him the indulgence certificate she has just bought from Tetzel. We watch her smile drop as a crestfallen Luther tells her to save her money because the certificates are worthless. The message is clear. The church is taking advantage of people’s gullibility and anxiety to finance its various projects, which included the building of St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome.

In truth, the church’s spin hasn’t changed much. Protestant propaganda is that the Reformation set people free from the crass legalism of the Catholic church. “We are saved by grace and not by works of the laws” is the classic formulation of this new/old gospel. But, of course, it wasn’t that simple.

For Luther, especially, salvation was something still dispensed by the church. The gospel was the church’s “true treasure”, so one had to be part of the church to receive this gift. So just show up and you’ve got it? Not quite. You have to be baptized, receive communion, and live a moral life.

Oh, and one more thing: you have to have faith. The full Protestant gospel formula is actually “we are saved by grace through faith.” And those two words have tied Protestant (and other) church leaders and theologians in knots ever since. What is “saving” faith? Basically, there have been two interpretations. One essentially equates faith with belief, an intellectual assent or conviction, which often meant having the right “beliefs”, as determined by church authorities. The other view saw faith as an experience, as a spiritual or interior “knowing”, not of doctrines but of a saving relationship with God.

In the first case, the question is: How do you know what the right beliefs are? The church will tell you. How does the church know? God revealed them in the Bible and to the early church leaders. But there are lots of churches and they don’t agree which beliefs are right. How do you know? We’ve got them right. Just trust us.

In the second instance, the question is: How do you know if your faith is real? Again, the church is the decider but not so clearly. Genuine faith wil “bear fruit” in tangible ways. You will “want” to go to church, read your Bible, do works of charity, etc. But again, whether those fruits were real or enough was open for debate. Here too churches differed in their understanding. More troublesome were the doubts in people’s minds: Do I really believe? What about my doubts? My sins? How do I know for sure that I am saved?

The history of Protestantism is essentially the story of the endless debates about these never resolved questions, and the repeated denominational divisions over them. In the meantime, Catholicism cleaned up the worst of its organizational abuses, and got involved in these debates to a degree, but essentially rested on its ancient history and tradition.

The church where I worshiped last Sunday observed Reformation Sunday, as Lutheran churches typically still do. The usual hymns and readings associated with the day were used to stir Lutheran blood, and even the Nicene Creed was dragged out (not typical for this congregation) in all its incomprehensible babble.

In her sermon, the preacher focused on a recent translation change whereby faith in Jesus Christ is now rendered the faith of Jesus Christ. It’s happened in a few places in Paul’s letters but in this case, it was Romans 3:22, “the righteousness of God through the faith of Jesus Christ for all who believe.” The Greek can be translated either way, but this version takes the emphasis off our having faith in Jesus and replaces it with Jesus’ faithful service.

The preacher (and presumably the sermon helps she was using) seemed to think this was a big deal. In the case of this passage, however, (or Romans generally) it doesn’t really help in understanding the theological word salad Paul has produced here. And there are other places where the meaning obviously is faith in Christ or God.

“Faith” is used in lots of different ways in the Pauline epistles. And it’s used differently again in the gospels—and not at all in John! Today it’s popular to say the faith should be rendered or understood as “trust,” which may be helpful. But that’s obviously not how it is always meant in the New Testament, nor in the teachings of the Reformation.

Yet none of this gets at the church’s core problem today, which is the meaninglessness of salvation itself. People just don’t care. They aren’t joining the synoptic gospels’ “rich young ruler” in asking, “What must I do to be saved?” Progressive preachers think its wonderful to declare that “salvation is a free gift!” But like a free subscription offer, most people are saying, “Thanks, but no thanks.” Free, discounted, or full price, salvation is a nonstarter for more and more people.

In short, the church needs to get out of the salvation business. Salvation was finished as soon as heaven and hell lost any tangible meaning. But even apart from that, biblical scholars and theologians have been saying for centuries that salvation is not the only lens through which to interpret the Bible, or the most important. Individual salvation gets almost no mention in the Old Testament. Nor is it obviously Jesus’ central concern in the gospels. The church’s salvation obsession is mostly based on its reading of Paul, and even that interpretation is now recognized as simplistic.

What “business” should the church be in? For an answer, the church needs to eat some humble pie and turn to another tradition, from about the time of the prophets but several thousand miles apart: Buddhism. For the first of the Buddha’s Four Noble Truths is the concern of all people: the reality of suffering. More fully: What is suffering? Why do we suffer? Can we keep from suffering? If so, how?

I agree with those who say, especially from a Western perspective, that Buddhism is more philosophy than religion, though that isn’t quite right. In any case, many modern Christians have found Buddhism to be a very compatible spiritual partner and ally. And that for the simple reason that suffering is a major theme of both testaments of the Bible, as well.

In the Old Testament, this is especially true of the wisdom books and the prophets. In the New Testament, it is a theme of Paul (believe it or not) but it especially jumps out in Jesus’ endless concern for people’s ailments and disabilities. Jesus heals everyone who seeks it, often adding enigmatically that it was “your faith” that healed them.

But perhaps it is in John where the alleviating of suffering is most clearly Jesus’ mission. Here Jesus repeatedly offers “eternal life” as the answer to the human predicament, not as something experienced someday in a great beyond but here and now. He promises peace to his troubled disciples, and in John 16 says,

“I have said this to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you have tribulation [suffering]; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world.”

For the Bible, and especially for the centuries-long Christian mystical tradition, the end of suffering is not a promise in the by-and-by, not a theological doctrine to be believed, nor a social or political project. Rather, it is an experience of awakening and rebirth, the discovery of our true nature, and being set free from the endless turmoil of our egoic obsessions.

If we want to still use the word, “salvation” then is not from sin, the devil, or the wrath of God. Rather, the gospel is the we are “saved” by being set free from the delusions and suffering of our false self. We awaken to our oneness with God, to as Jesus says the kingdom of God within us, to our essential nature as Spirit.

In other words, Christianity has the seeds for its own rebirth. But as Jesus says in John, it has to let the old plants die for the new seeds to fall to the ground and sprout anew. Luther said he had to take a stand to reform the church. Today, it’s past time for him to take a seat.

If you appreciate these posts, remember to “Like”, share, and subscribe, if you haven’t done so already. In the mystical world of search algorithms, this all helps “spread the word.” And add a comment, if you’re so moved, to be part of the conversation. Finally, thank you for your financial support (see the “DONATE” box), which covers blog expenses and helps me to keep doing this.

No going back

No going back

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I don’t read New York Times columnist Ross Douthat very much anymore, but when I do I can usually count on him to say something to make my blood boil. He accomplished that again last weekend.

It isn’t clear to me what commentary niche Douthat fills for the Times. Most of his topics fall under the categories of culture, politics, and religion, which is a pretty broad front. Religion, however, seems to be his special interest. Douthat, after a swing through Pentecostalism, became a convert to traditionalist Roman Catholicism. In other words, he leans much more toward JP II and Benedict than Pope Francis.

This weekend’s offending column was titled, “Is the World Ready for a Religious Comeback?” One of Douthat’s favorite topics is the decline of religion and the need to revive it. As he does here, he talks often about the sad consequences for society of religion’s shrinking importance.

Despite that concern, Douthat dismisses most movements for religious reform, whether from progressive Catholics or Protestants. And while he talks a lot about what society has lost with religion’s decline, rarely does he talk about that decline’s causes, like the sex abuse scandals, oppression of women, intransigence on moral issues, politicization, and generally clinging to an outdated premodern worldview. Douthat often gives the impression he would be very happy to return to the 1950s, if not much earlier.

There is so much wrong with this latest column of Douthat’s it’s hard to know where to begin. It’s a prime example of how if you don’t understand the problem, then of course you won’t say sensible things about solving it. He begins by recalling the best-seller popularity of various “anti-God” books published shortly after 9-11. Dubbed the “New Atheists”, these authors wrote high profile books about the anti-intellectual absurdity of religion, and the disastrous political and social consequences of fundamentalism, exemplified by the Al-Qaeda attacks.

Douthat mistakenly believes these books represented some dramatic turning point in modern religion’s decline. But their popularity actually showed the depth of a decline that was already well underway. No one read these books and thought, “Wow! I hadn’t thought of that before. I guess I’ll stop going to church.” Rather, most people read these books to have their previous doubts and disdain confirmed. And in that, the books were very successful.

Douthat begins with these 20-year-old books because the focus of his article are three new books showing, in his view, a way back to religion. The authors are all Christian neo-conservatives, like Douthat, who discloses he also has book along similar lines about to come out. Apparently, the publishing pendulum has swung to the other side.

I think Douthat’s biggest mistake is thinking that the crisis in Christianity is primarily an intellectual one. It does have such a problem to the extent that it clings to its ancient and medieval worldview. But that’s not primarily why people have been leaving the church. They’ve been leaving because Christianity is failing them as religion.

That’s not to say that people are leaving Christianity for some other of the world’s religions. As I’ve said before, all the world’s ancient religions are long past their sell-by dates. You can find neglected or abandoned temples and shrines everywhere. Religious revivals still happen from time-to-time, for mostly local reasons. But the fact is that for the vast majority of urbanized people, wherever they are, the traditional ancient religions simply do not connect with their modern lives. Yet people are still looking for spiritual meaning and direction.

Douthat blithely dismisses the rise of the “spiritual but not religious” as having peaked (based on one report out this summer). This is a good thing, in his view, since these spiritual seekers, unmoored from the guidance of religion, have been descending into all sorts of absurdities.

The decline of religious membership and practice is increasingly seen as a social problem rather than a great leap forward. People raised without belief are looking for meaning in psychedelics, astrology, U.F.O.s. And lately the rise of the “Nones” — Americans with no religious affiliation — has finally leveled off. So the world seems primed for religious arguments in the same way it was primed for the new atheists 20 years ago.

Douthat needs to get out of his evangelical academic bubble more often. There are no signs that churches are experiencing any kind of revival. Or that more people are finding “meaning” in psychedelics, astrology, and UFOs (!). Or that people are now “primed for religious arguments.” (Douthat is the type of evangelical who believes the answer to the church’s problems is to get more people to read C. S. Lewis.)

Despite its being disconnected from organized religion, the spiritual quest of people today is genuine and very much alive. It is necessarily amorphous and hard to measure. Those who study such things often dismiss it because it doesn’t fit into traditional religious boxes, but that’s a mistake. Something genuinely new is arising, even if its form is not yet apparent.

At the end of his essay, Douthat wonders “whether contemporary disillusionment with secularism is enough to draw people to the threshold of religion.” But why is religion the only option? Secularism was a response to the failures of religion. Yet religion’s flaws haven’t been fixed, so why would going back to it make any sense?

Today’s spiritual quest is not disconnected from the past but it is not a return to the past, either. It’s biggest difference, especially in relation to orthodox Christianity, is its dismissal of theism: belief in a divine being—God—somewhere “out there.” The bearded, robed man on a throne above the clouds simply can’t be reimagined in a way that makes sense in the modern world. Yet traditional Western religion simply cannot shake its attachment to this ancient, mythical figure. For modern people, however, it’s a nonstarter.

Yet the question which gave the initial energy to the great world religions remains at the heart of today’s spiritual searching: Who am I? In the 5th century BCE, the maxim “Know thyself” was inscribed on the Greek Temple of Apollo at Delphi. That goal has been a central pursuit of philosophy, religion, science, literature, and spirituality ever since.

In the modern world, difficulty answering the question, “Who am I?”, has been the primary source of popular anxiety and confusion. Religion used to provide a workable answer for us but doesn’t anymore. To say one is a “child of God” sounds reassuring until you realize you don’t have a meaningful understanding of who God is.

The essence of spirituality is the conviction that our being is spirit, and thus we are all divine, already and always one with God. While religion believes our goal is to find and connect with God, spirituality’s goal is for us to awake to the unity we already have with God. In the words of the French theologian and mystic, Teilhard de Chardin:

We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience.

The primary activity of worship is the verbal expression of praise and prayer to the God beyond us. The primary activity of spirituality is meditation, the growing awareness in contemplative silence of our true nature as spirit and one with God.

Spirituality is not foreign to religion. Far from it. But it has almost always been a “minority opinion,” contained in monasteries or among desert recluses. Whenever it began to expand beyond those confines, it was usually suppressed by religious authorities.

Today, spirituality is again spilling out into the world. This time, however, religious authorities lack both the power and the credibility to contain it. Instead, as Douthat does here, it is simply ignored, in hopes it will just go away. They don’t understand that it may well be our world’s best hope that it spreads far and wide.

If you appreciate these posts, remember to “Like”, share, and subscribe, if you haven’t done so already. In the mystical world of search algorithms, this all helps “spread the word.” And add a comment, if you’re so moved, to be part of the conversation. Finally, thank you for your financial support (see the “DONATE” box), which covers blog expenses and helps me to keep doing this.

A God of silence

A God of silence

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Hurricane Milton image from spaceIn the days before Hurricane Milton made landfall, I saw multiple Facebook posts appealing to God for protection from the storm. They often were not for personal protection but for some specific location or the whole state, and often in very assertive language. One such post said,

In the mighty name of Jesus, we believe that Hurricane Milton will dissipate and cause no harm to the state of Florida. In the powerful name of Jesus. Amen.

The post had a graphic with a set of praying hands amidst swirling clouds over the Gulf, next to an image of the state of Florida. Similar posts had pictures of Jesus calming a stormy sea from a boat or on shore. The post quoted above had over 800 likes and over 200 responses, the largest number being simply “Amen”, often with one or more hands-together emojis. (In the US, most assume they are “praying hands” but, having been created in Asia like most emojis, they actually represent the gesture accompanying the Hindu Namaste greeting.)

A few responders expressed skepticism about the prospects of any divine intervention. Some of them in turn got surprisingly strong, often judgmental push-back for their lack of faith. A common theme of the posts I saw, as well as many of the comments, was the notion of “claiming” supposed divine promises of protection. Many responses to the skeptics included citing biblical stories of God saving or protecting people in danger. He did it before, so he will do it now.

I recognized these assertive “claiming” prayers as common to a certain strain of evangelicalism, often of the megachurch and Pentecostal variety. They are based on the conviction that believing strongly enough some presumed biblical promise will result in God fulfilling it. The strength of your belief, and the numbers who share that belief, will determine God’s reward.

In a worship setting, such prayers are a combination of “positive thinking” and group-think, and are often used to bind worshipers together. That’s the reason these posts got so many affirmations and why the naysayers were so firmly reprimanded. The skeptics disrupted the group cohesion of the post.

When Milton initially seemed to be behaving in a less destructive way than predicted, posts appeared claiming this was in response to people’s prayers. But as the actual extent of the damage and suffering became apparent, those posts disappeared. Less storm surge was accompanied by damaging winds, flooding rains, and (surprise) fatal tornadoes.

During the heyday of his 700 Club TV show, televangelist Pat Robertson once claimed to have “prayed away” a hurricane threatening his Virginia Beach headquarters. This was quickly slapped down by critics pointing out that the hurricane’s turn simply resulted in suffering and destruction happening somewhere else.

On the flip side was the assertion by Jerry Falwell and others the Hurricane Katrina was punishment for New Orleans’ debauchery, especially its hosting of an annual gay festival. The fact that the vast majority of victims had nothing to do with their city’s supposed depravity was ignored.

The idea that God punishes the wicked and protects and rewards the righteous is found throughout the Bible and is common in the Bible-based religions. This belief is especially prevalent in the Psalms, which probably explains their continuing popularity.

What is often ignored, however, is that such a belief is regularly challenged by other biblical writers. The prophets, especially, reject the notion that God will automatically give his people protection if they ask for it. Going further, wisdom books like Job and Ecclesiastes reject the notion that righteous living and piety will result in God’s blessings.

The Bible never resolves the issue. An overarching and unanswered question of the Old Testament is why God’s chosen people suffer so much. The New Testament continues that conversation by embracing suffering and death as the path to eternal life. But even there such a notion is never fully satisfying.

To put it bluntly, the biblical tradition struggles with the question: What good is a God who doesn’t help us, and in a predictable and reliable manner? Evangelical “claiming” prayers seem more like magic than faith. Say the right words and get the desired outcome. They also seem to be trying to manipulate God. You said You would protect us, so You have to come through for us when we ask.

Why do we appeal to God for help? Crying out when we are in distress or danger is a natural and automatic response, though not necessarily to God. John Shelby Spong quotes a woman who didn’t believe in God but in a time of great suffering cried out to the Universe for relief. The effect for her was probably the same. It expressed her distress and deep desire for her circumstances to be different.

So is God like a therapist or close friend, listening and nodding as we recite our problems, responding when appropriate, “I feel your pain”? In the progressive Christianity of mainline churches that seems to be the case. Even though prayers are said during weekly worship for the world’s problems and the needs of members, no one can explain what they believe will result from those prayers. Some will say that such prayers make us more aware of others’ needs and perhaps motivate us to act in some helpful way. That may well be true, but what has God got to do with it?

God as a Supreme Being far above us yet watching over everyone and everything is no longer credible for most people, including many religious people. Yet progressive churches have done little to help their members imagine, let alone experience, God in a different way. Countless numbers of theologians of the past two hundred years, Protestant and Catholic, have done valuable and productive work in this regard. Yet their own churches, often while saying affirmative things about them, have largely ignored their insights when it came to reshaping their beliefs and practices.

But it seems now that theology is not the way to move Christianity forward. Rather than more words, it is silence that is opening the way to a new understanding and experience of the Sacred. And some theologians themselves have recognized this.

One of the primary theologians of Vatican II, Karl Rahner, said that Christians of the future will be mystics or they will not exist at all. The great 20th century German American theologian, Paul Tillich, declared that God does not exist, but rather is the ground of existence. This was an idea he derived from the preeminent medieval mystic, Meister Eckhart. God is not a being but Being Itself. Such an understanding has support in many places in the Bible but probably the most well-known is a saying attributed to Paul in the book of Acts: “God is the one in whom we live, and move, and have our being.”

The essence of the mystical experience is not the God far off, out there, somewhere. Rather it’s knowing God right here, right now, within and all around us. In times of distress, we don’t appeal for God’s help so much as center ourselves in the sacred presence that is at the center of our being. By a life of “practicing the presence of God”, as Brother Lawrence described it in the 17th century, we come to know our essential security by our oneness with God and all things.

And this is primarily known in silence. As the Psalmist says, “Be still and know that I AM God.” This is how we experience what Paul describes as “the peace that surpasses all understanding.” It is a peace not of the mind but of the heart, not of words and ideas but of the boundless, silent Awareness that is our True Self. In the words of Meister Eckhart,

The Word lies hidden in the soul, unknown and unheard unless room is made for it in the ground of hearing, otherwise it is not heard. All voices and sounds must cease and there must be pure stillness within, a still silence.

Making room in our overfull lives and silencing the chatter in our minds is today’s spiritual challenge. Only then will we realize that we don’t need to cry out to God to come closer, but rather awaken, again quoting Eckhart, to the God “who is nearer to us than we are to ourselves.”

If you appreciate these posts, remember to “Like”, share, and subscribe, if you haven’t done so already. In the mystical world of search algorithms, this all helps “spread the word.” And add a comment, if you’re so moved, to be part of the conversation. Finally, thank you for your financial support (see the “DONATE” box), which covers blog expenses and helps me to keep doing this.

Repurposing the church: conclusion (part 3)

Repurposing the church: conclusion (part 3)

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Storefront church
A storefront church in Toronto.

In almost any conversation about the church’s future, the elephant in the room, the thing everyone is aware of but no one wants to talk about, is God. Perhaps it’s because people take God as a given, needing no discussion, but I don’t think so. For some it may be that they would feel too awkward or embarrassed. But I think the main reason God is “off the table” is that people know it would open a can of worms. It would reveal that people are all over the map on who or what God is, and that few adhere to the church’s “official” position.

It’s been well over a century since the German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche wrote, “God is dead … and we have killed him.” Despite hysterical distortions by his opponents then and since, Nietzsche was basically reporting a historical fact: the notion of God common in the ancient and medieval world was no more. That God was “killed” by the creation of a science-based world that has no place for such a God. That God is now homeless and unemployed, since heaven has no place in the universe and the universe has no need for God to keep it going.

Are a scientific worldview and the idea of God incompatible? Well, yes and no. If God is a being in some extraterrestrial location called heaven, who intervenes in the operation of the universe and the affairs of humanity, then yes, you have to choose one or the other. And if you choose science, then no God. This, of course, is the fundamentalists’ assumption and the reason for their hostility to the modern world.

Yet most Christians (including most fundamentalists to a degree) want to have their cake and eat it too. They accept science and the marvels it has brought to modern life, yet somehow also want to keep a personal God existing somewhere out there. Thus, Christians live with their religion and their science-dominated daily lives in separate compartments, with interaction between them rare and, when it does happen, awkward, if not explosive.

Or at least, that’s how it’s been. For I think we have reached a tipping point where most people now find this an impossible and unnecessary juggling act. The one bond above all others which has held people to the church is finally dissolving, and that’s a belief in a theistic God, God as an extraterrestrial being somewhere out there.

I say both impossible and unnecessary because people are discovering that, despite the church’s age-old denial, there are other ways to understand and experience God. Furthermore, many Christians are discovering that within Christianity there have always been alternative viewpoints, expressed by the mystics but also more than a few theologians, not to mention countless ordinary clergy and lay church members.

The growing number of those identifying as “spiritual but not religious” is the most tangible sign of this movement. These are people who have abandoned the theistic deity of traditional religion yet maintain a belief in an essential spiritual and sacred dimension to life. As surveys have shown, many may still express a belief in God, but often this is not the God of the church’s creeds and doctrines. This is often a God of experience rather than of theological belief.

A few months ago I wrote a blog post called “God Has Left the Building” and discussed how spirituality is rapidly displacing traditional notions of religion like Christianity.

Spirituality is now in broad use to refer to the experience of the sacred and of mystery in life and in the world. Many teachers and authors of various religious traditions, and of no tradition, commonly use the term to identify this dimension of reality. Spirituality is being seen as a way to reestablish our connection with the natural world and stem our abuse of it. And, being a religiously “neutral” term, spirituality is also providing a new opening for interaction with the sciences, especially psychology and theoretical physics.

Unfortunately, traditional Christianity is largely left behind in all this. The church cannot let go of “the Big Guy upstairs”, with its hymns, prayers, and rituals still directed to this imaginary being somewhere “above” us, imploring his forgiveness for our misdeeds and intervention in our many problems. While such piety still has some appeal, it is shrinking by the day, as evidenced by the ever-increasing numbers of empty pews.

The biggest thing missed by today’s distressed church leaders is that the church’s decline is largely a rejection of worship and the theistic God worship is centered on. Shrinking worship attendance means that millions of people have realized that they can get along fine without it and its weekly reconnection to the God-out-there. This is the reason the pandemic lockdown was such a blow. Forced to stop their worship practice, many discovered they didn’t really miss it and found other things to do with that time.

The pandemic lockdown was a missed opportunity, for this was when the church could have recognized that worship’s time is over. As I go on to say in the post I quoted above, the problem with worship is the church’s problem with God. The theistic God in heaven, the “sky God” as he’s sometimes been called, or God as Batman as Sam Harris described him, swooping in to rescue us from disaster, simply doesn’t work in the world today. As long as it clings to such a notion, the church can’t say anything intelligible, let alone meaningful, about such a God.

As I have shared these ideas in various places and settings, I rarely if ever get any pushback. While some raised in the church still cling to its traditional notions, the vast majority of people, both inside and outside the church, have moved on. Yet the church has hardly budged. Especially in worship, its hymns, liturgy, prayers, creeds, and preaching still assume this yawning gap between God, reigning in heaven, and the world and each one of us.

Spirituality is the recognition that there is no gap. God, as Paul says in Acts, is the one “in whom we live, and move, and have our being.” Or as St. Augustine said, and many spiritual teachers have repeated over the centuries, “God is closer to us than we are to ourselves.” And as Meister Eckhart says, the man who 700 years ago spearheaded the greatest effort to redirect the church toward this orientation:

Apprehend God in all things, for God is in all things. Every single creature is full of God and is a book about God. Every creature is a word of God.

Churches measure their vitality by how many people are in worship, yet it is worship that is dragging down the church. It is like an addiction, a habit the church can’t let go of. That many people, especially clergy, would be astonished, and even outraged, at such an idea shows how difficult breaking this habit will be. They don’t see that culture is breaking that habit for them, as churches close by the thousands.

No doubt many repurposed churches will retain a regular community gathering, though hopefully called something other than “worship”. But here is the great learning opportunity: let members reexamine church traditions and decide how they can be reimagined and repurposed, or that they just need to go. What opens us to recognize God’s presence here and now? How do we recognize the holiness of this time and place, of everyone present, and of the world around us? And how do we tell the story of Jesus, not as the Son of God, but as a child of God who lived to show that this is the identity of every person?

For this, finally, is what a repurposed church is about: following Jesus as the revealer of our oneness with God, of our true nature as Spirit, of each of our beings as a unique embodiment of God’s own Being. In that light, much of what has passed for “essential” church life will fade away or be radically reimagined. The church will no longer proclaim the “story of salvation” as Christ’s deliverance of the world from sin. Rather, the church will be a place to “experience salvation” as the awakening to our true nature, revealed in Jesus’ life and teaching.

A repurposed church will be a place to learn from spiritual masters of past and present, whatever their religious label. Here people will be guided to follow the “pathless path”, which leads them to where they already are by discovering they have never NOT been apart from God, but only lost in their egoic mind’s delusions of separateness. In a repurposed church they will be supported in a journey inward, to discover both their true selves and the God who is the core of their being. As Meister Eckhart taught,

There is a huge silence inside each of us that beckons us into itself, and the recovery of our own silence can begin to teach us the language of heaven.

This may be the most difficult of the lessons a repurposed church must learn, but it is crucial. That after a centuries-long obsession with words—scripture, creeds, doctrines, theology, sermons, hymns, prayers, liturgy—God is not found in them. Rather, as Elijah learned at the mouth of his cave, God is in our silence. And in a repurposed church, silence will be its sacrament.

 

If you appreciate these posts, remember to “Like”, share, and subscribe, if you haven’t done so already. In the mystical world of search algorithms, this all helps “spread the word.” And add a comment, if you’re so moved, to be part of the conversation. Finally, thank you for your financial support (see the “DONATE” box), which covers blog expenses and helps me to keep doing this.

Repurposing the church

Repurposing the church

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A former church now become a restaurant
The former Good Shepherd Lutheran Church building now serves as a restaurant.

Earlier this month, a New York Times article told the story of Good Shepherd Lutheran Church in the Chicago suburb of Des Plaines, not far from O’Hare airport. Well, it actually told the story of its building because Good Shepherd no longer exists. It closed a number of years ago and its building, situated in a pastoral lakeside setting, was converted into an upscale restaurant. The article highlights one couple who came to the restaurant to celebrate their wedding anniversary. They had been married in that same building 34 years earlier.

The story goes on to tell of a number of church buildings around the country repurposed in a variety of ways.

Around the world, houses of worship have been converted to restaurants, breweries, hotels, art centers, theaters and even sports complexes. Some abandoned churches have been transformed into mixed-use developments, blending retail and residential space, and affordable housing.

A church in New York City became a disco and one in St. Louis a skate park. Years ago, I stayed in a Chicago church that had become a B&B and I’ve seen a number of church buildings converted to single family homes.

The possibilities are presumably endless—as are the opportunities. Churches are closing by the thousands every year. A sociologist of church trends is quoted as saying that 100,000 Protestant churches in the US could close this decade, which would be close to 20% of such congregations. This after thousands closed in prior years. The story for Roman Catholic parishes is much the same.

Having spent most of my professional life in churches, I can say with some confidence that this situation will only get worse before it gets better, whatever “better” might mean. For most of the people remaining in churches, better means stopping their church’s membership shrinkage and then start growing again. Na’ gonna’ happen. But it’s almost impossible to convince churchgoers of that. I know. I’ve tried.

The people remaining in congregations like going to church. Most have done it all their lives and want to keep doing it as long as they can. Talk of changing, renewing, remaking, transforming the church gets a blank look from them. “We like it the way it is. We just wish there were more of us.” But in fact, their numbers are getting steadily older and fewer. Last one out, turn off the lights.

Now one might think church leaders, who are primarily clergy, would be steering churches in a new direction but they don’t get it either. For most of them, also, the primary goal is to preserve the institution. Which isn’t surprising since clergy are essentially trained to be institutional leaders. But that’s unfortunate since it is the institutional nature of Christianity that is the problem.

In a blog post last fall, Marshall Davis, a retired Baptist minister and now teacher of nondual Christianity, sees the church’s day of reckoning fast approaching.

The church does not have a problem; the church is the problem. The church thinks the problem is in the culture outside the church, but the real problem is in the church culture. The church does not see that, and therefore it has no motivation to change. Instead it doubles down on the culture wars. Because of the church’s spiritual blindness, the only solution left to God is so drastic that no one wants to think about it.

The church needs to die, so it can be resurrected as an entirely new creation. For that reason I am not dismayed when I read ever-worsening statistics about the decline of the church. I see God’s hand in it. Like a gardener or farmer, God is turning over the soil, in order to prepare for a new season.

Most people today just aren’t interested in belonging to a church, or to any other religious organization for that matter. That’s very hard for Christians, lay or clergy, to comprehend. For them being a Christian means belonging to a church. They enjoy the worship services (mostly), the “coffee and” after worship, Bible studies, service opportunities, etc.

Primarily, though, people enjoy the friendships they have with other church members who they encounter at such events. But newcomers or people outside a congregation’s “inner circle” often find these activities are “not all that.” Add to that the scandals, political divisions, and internal squabbles that rack many congregations and folks looking in from the outside will say, “Thanks, but no thanks.”

More than the church’s organizational flaws, however, is the fact that it is simply not offering what people are looking for. In clinging to its traditions, the church has been blinded to a cultural sea change occurring all around it. The result, as Davis says in a later post, is that people are looking elsewhere to meet their spiritual needs.

I see God at work in the hearts and minds of people who are leaving the church. People are looking more closely at what they believe … and don’t believe. They are deconstructing the faith they were raised in (if they were raised in a religious tradition). Upon careful examination, many are deciding that their religious tradition is not true. 

So church decline has little to do with liberal or conservative. It has everything to do with people looking for meaning and purpose, beauty and truth, community and meaningful relationships in life. People are not finding those in churches, so they are looking elsewhere. They are looking to other religious traditions and humanistic philosophies. They are exploring other spiritual practices and beliefs.  

Throughout my ministry career, I have watched my denomination, and others like it, struggle to stem their decline. The proposals and renewal programs have been endless, and millions of dollars spent on them. Nothing has changed. But to use a commercial metaphor, all of these efforts have dealt with the packaging. No one, it seems, whether in the pews or the pulpit, dares to question whether it might actually be the product itself that is the problem.

Specifically, but only briefly, the church needs to finally acknowledge that its ancient sin/salvation shtick is over. Not only are people outside not interested in it but many in the pews—and pulpits!—don’t buy it anymore, either. The carrot-and-stick of heaven and hell are way past their sell by date. Many churches today, of course, barely pay lip service to this tradition. Yet it is still at the core of these churches’ creeds, liturgies, calendars, prayers, hymns, and education materials.

“But that’s what Jesus is all about, isn’t it?” That’s certainly the direction the early church pulled him and it’s the direction the church has gone ever since. But there is good evidence now that many early Christians were not onboard with that viewpoint and instead understood Jesus very differently (see the gospel of Thomas, for instance, where the crucifixion and resurrection are never mentioned). And throughout its history, there has always been a minority in the church who viewed Jesus as something other than a “savior from sin”, the mystics being the most notable.

More importantly, thanks to modern New Testament scholarship, and when we remove our “savior-colored glasses”, it has become easy to see that Jesus himself showed little interest in salvation religion, his “attack” on the temple being perhaps Exhibit A. Rather, his primary concern was with the suffering of people in their daily lives, whether physical, emotional, or spiritual. In Mark, the gospel’s “good news” is that God’s kingdom is here, now, at our finger tips. And in Luke Jesus declares,

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to set free those who are oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

While the church certainly affirms these texts, what isn’t acknowledged is that they have nothing to do with the ancient sin/salvation mantra the church has recited for nearly two millennia. It is so ingrained that, as I said above, the church’s predicament will have to get worse before it gets better. People within the church today won’t be able to undo the doctrines, imagery, and language that have sustained the church for so long. It’s what they’re there for.

Nonetheless, I share Marshall Davis’ view that from this dying will come a new rising. The Spirit is indeed “turning over the soil.” It may not look like much now but in the spring, however long that is in coming, new growth will appear. Then, repurposing church buildings will give way to repurposing the church itself.

If you appreciate these posts, remember to “Like”, share, and subscribe, if you haven’t done so already. In the mystical world of search algorithms, this all helps “spread the word.” And add a comment, if you’re so moved, to be part of the conversation. Finally, thank you for your financial support, which covers blog expenses and helps me to keep doing this.

Going Out of Your Mind

Going Out of Your Mind

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Young man sitting watching a mountainous horizon

The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah.  It will not be like the covenant … that they broke…. I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts…. No longer shall they teach one another or say to each other, “Know the Lord,” for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the Lord.

This passage from Jeremiah 31 is like a peek behind the curtain. It’s slipped in by an unknown scribe to show the real point of Jeremiah’s futile saga. Jeremiah (like all the prophets) was doomed to fail from the start. Judah’s political and religious leaders were never going to listen to his call to repentance and to return to the Lord’s ways. Jerusalem’s destruction was baked into the cake.

In fact, this text, like others that pop up here and there in the Old Testament, blows down the house of cards that is the saga of God’s chosen people. The dramatic Mosaic “take off” story of the people of Israel, with the exodus from Egypt and the giving of the ten commandments and establishment of the covenant at Mt. Sinai, was always destined to end with a fatal crash landing. These texts are like a Greek chorus, helping the audience to recognize and understand the tragedy that is unfolding before them.

These few verses are the center of the book of Jeremiah and, in effect, declare the failure of the project of religion. Whether in the political form found in most of ancient and medieval history, or its politically independent form typical today, religion will never bring about its goal of creating a humanity in harmony with God, the One, our Divine Source. The “covenant”, the external form of people’s relationship with God, no matter how sincerely adopted, how cleverly written, how strictly enforced, will always fail in the end, will always be “broken”, as Jeremiah says.

So, what’s the answer? Is there an alternative? Formal relationships with God, whether chiseled on stone tablets, written on paper, or digitized on a computer drive will always fail. They make our relationship with God into an idea which, as with all ideas, eventually blow away like leaves in an autumn wind.

But neither we nor God are ideas. While its mythical stories and language sound antique to us today, nonetheless the Bible repeatedly gives priority to human experiences of God. The formulation of ideas about God always takes a secondary role. Yet the biblical religions have put their emphasis on concepts, expressed in theology and doctrines and enacted in rituals and liturgy.

When I was in seminary, I worked part-time in our library. With over a million volumes, it was the joining of three different Christian traditions and one of the largest theological libraries in the country. I later came to see it as symbolic of Christianity’s preoccupation with words: endless rows of centuries of dusty books, filled with words about God.

I went to church recently, for the first time since Easter. During the service I heard four Bible readings, multiple hymns, lengthy recitations of liturgy and formal prayers, and, of course, a sermon. My experience for that hour was words, words, and more words.

But this is exactly what this passage from Jeremiah says needs to change. Teaching people about God doesn’t cut it. Instead, the prophet says, rather than being taught about God with words people will know God by having God’s Word written on their hearts. God isn’t an idea to be taught and learned but an experienced reality within us.

What is the “heart”? Where is our deepest center? It isn’t our mind, with its endless stream of words and ideas, especially ideas about ourselves, called our ego. Our inner being has been called different things over the ages. Today it is most often identified as consciousness, our deepest awareness of our self and our being.

This is the true Self that is aware of our egoic self, aware of our thinking and feeling, but it is not them and is unaffected by them. It is, as Paul describes it, the source of the peace that surpasses all understanding. Christianity has said that it is Spirit, God’s own presence within us.

Religion is the quest to find and understand God. Spirituality, however, says God doesn’t need to be found but is already here, within and around us. God, as Paul is quoted saying in Acts, is the one in whom “we live and move and have our being.” In Galatians he says, “it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me.” In the gospel of John, Jesus’ last prayer for his followers is that they would all be one, “as you, Father, are in me and I am in you.”

The primary activity of religion is worship, directing prayers and praise to “the God out there.” In the spiritual life, the primary activity is meditation (in Christian circles often called contemplation or centering prayer), which opens us to our true Self and liberates us from the confusion and pain of our ever changing egoic self.

So, for example, in meditation we may still hear voices in our heads of self-judgement, anger, frustration, anxiety, relentless demands, etc. But over time we come to realize that those voices are not us. We, our real selves, are the ones listening to those voices, which, once recognized, gives us the freedom to choose how to respond to them, or (often the best course) to just ignore them.

I am not my mind any more than I am my heart or my lungs, which are all largely out of my control. Going out of my mind is not a path to insanity but, on the contrary, the path to my true self, the path to freedom and true peace and happiness. It is the path to God.

Today, religious language seems antique and much of it has been corrupted by centuries of abuse. About the time of Vatican II, one of the Roman Catholic church’s top theologians, Karl Rahner, said we should stop using the word “God” for fifty years since its meaning had become so distorted. The rise of the spiritual but not religious is due not only to a rejection of religious institutions but religious language, as well. For them, “religious-speak” is neither helpful nor meaningful.

But for those who remain within establishment religion, it is all the more important to see how, over the centuries, many religious texts and authorities have been well aware of religion’s limitations. It is a thread that runs throughout the Bible and the Christian tradition, especially among the mystics. For them, reality is not dualistic, requiring that we strive to span an enormous gap between us and God. Rather, the challenge is to awaken from our confusion and blindness to know our oneness with God and all that has been created.

One of those mystic authorities was the medieval German theologian, Meister Eckhart. His understanding of our oneness with God was clear and profound and still speaks to us today of the peace and joy of that experience.

“The eye through which I see God is the same eye through which God sees me; my eye and God’s eye are one eye, one seeing, one knowing, one love.”

 

If you appreciate these posts, remember to “Like”, share, and subscribe, if you haven’t done so already. In the mystical world of search algorithms, this all helps “spread the word.” And add a comment, if you’re so moved, to be part of the conversation. Finally, thank you for your financial support, which covers blog expenses and helps me to keep doing this.

Finding Rabbi Jesus

Finding Rabbi Jesus

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Modern mosaic of Jesus and Mary Magdalene
A contemporary mosaic of Jesus and Mary Magdalene at the Magdalena Institute in Magdala, Israel, on the Sea of Galilee.

I’ve been writing about the near impossibility of knowing who Jesus really was: what he did, what he taught, and what his ultimate intention was, if he had one. Our earliest writings about Jesus are by someone who never knew him, the apostle Paul. The gospels are written decades after Jesus’ death, again by people who never knew him. What the sources were that the gospel writers used are unknown and we can only speculate about.

Reading the gospels, it’s obvious that their authors, like Paul, each had their own agenda, i.e. a particular understanding of Jesus they wished to promote. Complicating things even more, we have no original manuscripts for anything in the New Testament and it’s now accepted that many of its texts were later edited by unknown scribes, and not just for spelling and grammar.

In short, immediately after his death, Jesus’ followers struggled to define who Jesus was and what his message was. Why was this so? Likely because Jesus himself had laid out no clear agenda, or at least not one that fit with the expectations of the people of Judea. Personally, I think Jesus himself had a clear understanding of what he was about, but he did not have a programmatic agenda and his message was not easily understandable for many of his listeners. Jesus was thinking and behaving far outside the conventional Jewish box.

As a result, Jesus made use of symbolic stories called parables, symbolic acts of inclusion, especially meals, and healings—parables in action, if you will—to get his “message” across. And that strategy worked, at least in touching and changing many people. Jesus’ gracious welcome, and the sense that in doing so Jesus was acting on God’s behalf, seems to be the one thing universally remembered about him. In simplest terms, Jesus communicated that God loved everyone and people just needed faith to experience that love.

Unfortunately for his followers, Jesus left no organizational plan. And that was likely intentional: he just wasn’t interested. So no, Jesus’ goal was not to found a new religion. Not surprisingly then, the story of early Christianity is as disorganized and dysfunctional as can be imagined.

It’s unlikely, for example that “the twelve” was ever as solid an inner core as the gospels want us to believe—they can’t even agree on their names! Peter was supposedly the primo disciple, yet scholars now agree that it was Jesus’ brother James who was head of the Jerusalem church, and he seems to not have been an original follower.

After Jesus’ death, his disciples remained faithful Jews. But then Paul sailed in out of the blue, announcing that Jesus revealed himself to him and told him that gentiles were to be included in this new Christian community. The church’s split over this issue was not resolved until the center of Jewish Christianity was decimated by the first Jewish Roman war and the destruction of the temple in A.D. 70.

After that, Gentile Christianity became the norm but it existed in countless different flavors. Non-canonical gospels and other writings from the first centuries testify to the diversity of beliefs and practices of the early church. A centuries-long power struggle ensued leading to infighting, persecutions, and excommunications. This was mostly ended in the 4th century with establishment of Christianity as the new official religion of the Roman empire and the adoption of creedal decrees about the content of true Christian belief. Anyone who disagreed was now officially a heretic and beyond the pale.

As this process ensued, the historical Jesus of Nazareth became an ever-smaller dot in the church’s rear-view mirror. Today, thanks to archaeology and the techniques of critical scholarship, we know more about the historical Jesus than any of those gathered to thrash out the Nicene Creed in 325. It’s not surprising that the creed says almost nothing about Jesus’ life besides his birth and death.

We know more but, as I’ve said, we don’t know enough to construct a convincing, definitive picture of the historical Jesus. And our problem isn’t so much lack of information as it is having too much. It’s as if the pieces from multiple jigsaw puzzles have been (partially) poured into the same box. The question isn’t which picture is “right” but which picture do you want to (partially) put together from all those pieces?

The question of who Jesus really was will never definitively be answered. But we can answer the question of who we want or need Jesus to be. This doesn’t mean that Jesus is a blank slate. The early Christian writings establish discernible boundaries. And reestablishing those boundaries would help knock down the more outrageous caricatures of him that keep popping up: “We don’t know for sure who Jesus was but he certainly wasn’t that” (thinking of the Rambo Jesus recently on posters and t-shirts).

Besides the questions of history and the record of the first Christians is the question of our context today. For centuries the church was able to create the context. Life orbited around the church and was called Christendom. That time is long gone, though many in the church haven’t figured that out, or nostalgically long for its return. But it’s not coming back, no matter how many copies of the Ten Commandments get hung up.

In fact, religion itself is rapidly fading away. All the so-called “world” religions are well past their sell-by date. Rituals continue to be performed, texts continue to be studied, and people return to congregations in times of crisis. But religion can’t shake its pre-modern origins. That’s the world it was created for but that’s not the world we live in now. Today that’s obvious in Westernized societies for most people under 50, at least.

Even in its heyday, though, religion was not without its critics. The fluidity of Hinduism always allowed people to live outside its traditional boundaries, including its most famous wayward son, the Buddha. The most well-known and influential ancient Chinese writing, the Tao te Ching, has little to say about religion. The prophets railed again Israel’s corruption and denounced the hypocrisy of temple worship. And the embarrassing irony now highlighted by many scholars is that Jesus himself showed little interest in formal Judaism or in founding another religion.

Thus, the growing number of the “spiritual but not religious” can find ample support in the tradition of Jesus, as well as in the many other religious renegades that have appeared over the centuries. There is still much we can learn from voices of the past, so long as we realize it doesn’t require us to return to the past.

In a nutshell, Jesus the mystic and wisdom teacher has much to offer our distressed world today. Jesus the Messiah and savior from sin and hell does not. The Jesus who says that God’s kingdom is within and all around you, and that you must lose your life in order to find it, speaks in harmony with countless other voices down through the centuries who are part of what Aldous Huxley called the “perennial philosophy.” And the teachers and followers of nondual or unitive spirituality today follow in their footsteps. It is in recognition of this transcendent tradition that Meister Eckhart said, “Theologians may quarrel, but the mystics of the world all speak the same language.”

Robert Funk was the brilliant founder of the Jesus Seminar, the multi-year effort to gain a clearer picture of the historical Jesus. In his book summarizing its work, Honest to Jesus, Funk says with typical humor and irony:

We must begin by giving Jesus a demotion. He asked for it, he deserves it, we owe him no less.

Funk believed Jesus has much to offer us today but we can’t see it because he has been swallowed up by centuries of religious titles and symbols. He needs to be set free. He needs a demotion, but only in the eyes of the church. In John’s account of the resurrection, Mary Magdalene initially mistakes Jesus for a gardener. But when he calls her by name, she recognizes him and says in Aramaic, “’Rabbouni!’ (which means teacher).” If rabbi/teacher was an adequate title for the one who was probably Jesus’ most devoted follower, it should be good enough for us today.

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Untangling Jesus

Untangling Jesus

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Tangled yarn

16 For the Lord himself, with a cry of command, with the archangel’s call and with the sound of God’s trumpet, will descend from heaven, and the dead in Christ will rise first. 17 Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up in the clouds together with them to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will be with the Lord forever.  1 Thessalonians 4

26 “Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in clouds’ with great power and glory. 27 Then he will send out the angels and gather the elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven…. When you see these things taking place, you know that he is near, at the very gates. 30 Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place.  Mark 13

20 Once Jesus was asked by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God was coming, and he answered, “The kingdom of God is not coming with things that can be observed, 21 nor will they say, ‘Look, here it is!’ or ‘There it is!’ For, in fact, the kingdom of God is among and within you.”  Luke 17

His disciples said to him, “When will the kingdom come?” Jesus said, “It will not come by waiting for it. It will not be a matter of saying ‘here it is’ or ‘there it is.’ Rather, the kingdom of the father is spread out upon the earth, and men do not see it.”  Thomas 113

What is the kingdom of God? How do we find it, or when is it coming? The passages above are examples of how the New Testament can contradict itself. Even more, they represent the fundamental divide in the church’s understanding of Jesus’ message.

The first quotation is from the oldest Christian writing we know, Paul’s First Letter to the Thessalonians. Writing about twenty years after Jesus’ death, Paul is convinced Jesus will return very soon “in glory” to bring about the consummation of all history and establish his reign over all creation. In the passage from Mark, Jesus expresses essentially this same idea. This time, however, writing twenty years after Paul, it will be Mark’s readers, reeling from the catastrophic Jewish-Roman War, who will experience this.

In the passage from Luke, however, written fifteen or twenty years after Mark, Jesus explicitly rejects the notion that God’s kingdom is coming, sooner or later, because it’s already here! The quotation from the Gospel of Thomas expresses a very similar idea, with Jesus adding the explanation that, while the kingdom is here, most people don’t see the it.

The difference in these texts is not just about timing. The kingdom envisioned by Paul and by Jesus in the Mark passage is very different than Jesus’ idea of the kingdom in the stories from Luke and Thomas. In the first instance, the kingdom represents the apocalyptic establishment of God’s eternal rule. The statements by Jesus in Luke and Thomas, however, are enigmatic. What does it mean to say the kingdom is among you or within you or “spread out upon the earth”?

I think Jesus left most people puzzled, including his disciples. The curious scene where Jesus asks the disciples who people think he is points to the popular confusion. As I wrote last time, Albert Schweitzer came to the conclusion that Jesus thought his mission was to be the spark that initiated the coming of God’s kingdom, but it didn’t happen. He failed.

There are scholars today that agree with Schweitzer but I think they are wrong. Nonetheless, I recognize that there isn’t the evidence to resolve this conclusively one way or the other. As I quoted Robert Price, we have too many Jesuses. But neither do I think figuring out who Jesus really was is our concern. Instead, I believe we need to listen to the many Jesus voices to hear what speaks to us here and now.

Regardless of what Jesus intended, most of his followers, aka the church, have interpreted his teaching about the kingdom in one of two ways. Either God was going to bring about the establishment of the kingdom with Jesus’ return and at a definite time which Christians could anticipate, or the kingdom was coming at some indefinite and unknowable time in the future.

The Paul and Mark quotes obviously are in the first category. As time when on and Jesus did not return, this first interpretation fell out of favor. But it didn’t disappear. Over the centuries, movements have sprung up, usually in times of social crisis, which believed that Jesus’ return was imminent. Quotations from Paul’s letters, the gospels, and especially the book of Revelation have been patched together to support these groups’ predictions. Most recently, large numbers of evangelicals have held such beliefs, often with bizarre consequences.

It is the second view of Christ’s return and the kingdom’s coming which has been more common, however. The church became Christ’s interim institutional representative, keeping the lights burning, however long that might be, until the bridegroom returned, as one of Jesus’ parables says. But waiting is hard (as the same parable teaches). What are we supposed to do in the mean time?

As the centuries went by, the church found it more and more difficult to come up with an answer to that question. In effect, the church itself became the answer: build up the church as an institution, recruit lots of clergy and religious, develop elaborate doctrines and theology, and create more Christians by birth or conversion. I think we all know how well that strategy has turned out.

The institutional church has gone through endless cycles of growth, power abuse, corruption, infighting, division, and reform. The folks in the pews were mostly taken for granted. “Go to church, live life as best you can, and when you die God will take care of you.” Since the Enlightenment and rise of modernism, fewer and fewer people have been satisfied with either the church or its message of salvation after you die. In the West, at least, the church is now on life support and Christianity as a religion is hardly taken seriously.

The natural response of those distressed about this turn of events is to wonder how the church and Christianity can be revived. In other words, how to turn the cycle once again. I’m not sure that’s possible anymore. More importantly, I don’t think it’s even desirable because I don’t believe it’s what Jesus ever intended.

As we’ve seen, Jesus either believed the kingdom was coming very soon, or it wasn’t “coming” at all because it was already here. The option the church chose, that the kingdom would come at some indefinite time in the distant future, was not one of the options. It made that one up. The church has had an amazingly long run with it but has finally run out of gas.

But what about that second option, that the kingdom of God is already here? Well, that actually is part of the story, as well, though one largely unknown or forgotten. In fact, it is a thread that has run throughout the church’s history.

It is the story of the monastics and the mystics. It is the story of clergy, theologians, and lay people who quietly snuck this idea into their conventional beliefs and practices. It the story of others who boldly declared such beliefs in contrast with official teaching and were persecuted and even martyred for their efforts. And it is the story of everyday piety, often simple, sometimes superstitious or magical, but which believes that at any time and in any place, we are in God’s presence.

There is a tradition found in nearly all religions, but especially in the East, that the greatest source of humanity’s suffering is our own ego. In traditional Christianity the ego is our sinful self which we must struggle to control and subdue. But there is another understanding, shared with religions of the East, that the problem actually is that the ego is a fraud. It is an imposter, a “false self” blocking our vision of our true self, our sacred sense of “I am”, the indwelling Spirit, or simply God.

To discover this is to awaken to our true nature. The ego doesn’t need to be fought in a moral wrestling match in which few succeed. Rather, it needs to be seen through, discovering in the process that we are not separate selves but we are all united as incarnations of the one Self. In Jesus’ words, we need to lose our life to find it. In describing his own spiritual awakening, Paul says that “it is no longer I who live but Christ who lives in me.”

Our world of 8 billion separate egos is careening towards disaster. And the more of us there are, the more isolated, lonely, angry, and afraid we become. Yet that is how our culture wants us to view ourselves, “growing the economy” as we all scramble to get ahead of everyone else.

But what if we took Jesus seriously, and literally, when he says the greatest commandment can be expressed in two ways, which in practice mean the same thing? That our life’s purpose is to love the one God with our whole being and to love our neighbor as ourselves. That true peace and happiness are found when we unite in love with the Being who is the ground of all reality, and that when we love our neighbor, we are actually loving ourself since we are all manifestation of the one Self.

In another passage near the beginning of the Gospel of Thomas, Jesus says this:

“The kingdom is inside of you, and it is outside of you. When you come to know yourselves, then you will become known, and you will realize that it is you who are the children of the living father. But if you will not know yourselves, you dwell in poverty and it is you who are that poverty.”

“Spiritual poverty” may be one of the best descriptions of life in our world today. Yet there is a thread running through the world’s religions that says it doesn’t have to be this way. This wisdom tradition says that we suffer from a case of mistaken identity, a global amnesia about our true self. The Jesus tradition, and the Christian religion which grew from it share that thread, though few have known to look for it. While mostly falling on deaf ears in the past, it is this voice of Jesus and the Spirit that we most need to listen for.

 

If you appreciate these posts, remember to “Like”, share, and subscribe, if you haven’t done so already. In the mystical world of search algorithms, this all helps “spread the word.” And add a comment, if you’re so moved, to be part of the conversation. Finally, thank you for your financial support, which covers blog expenses and helps me to keep doing this.