We All Believe in Resurrection

I believe the header for this reflection is accurate. I haven't thought of any exceptions, at any rate.

For starters, and all the more obviously so as Easter approaches rapidly, you've got your Christians. We celebrate the resurrection of Jesus in a few days, and believe his fate is a good harbinger of what lies ahead for us: hope beyond the grave.

Now I confess I'm placing a rather large portion of humanity into the bucket of Other, but then we have those who do not believe Jesus rose from the dead. That's a rather motley crew, not easily described. But for sake of brevity I'll focus on the vast majority of them (and as of recent months, the largest religious group in America): those not affiliated with any religion.

Those who fall into this bucket are not by any stretch all atheists. Probably most of them have some sense of God and spirituality. But if you don't believe Jesus rose from the dead, it's a fair guess you don't believe anyone rose from the dead, ever.

And here's where I beg to differ with that accepted (I think) assumption. I contest that it's not been adequately examined.

We all believe in some sort of resurrection. All of us. The fact is, we're here. Alive. A planet teeming with life. And before I go on, let me point out that we all also have our priests. Those unaffiliated with any religion, for example, often treat the priesthood of science with great reverence. Yes, scientists can be priests, too. (I respect science myself, for the record!) But to return to our planet bursting with life, our lab-coated priests inform us that Earth was rather quiet about 5 billion years ago. Not a spot of life. Nothing. A lot of landscape, yes, and plenty of ocean, too.

But no life. None.

So another priesthood rears its sagacious head. Logic raises an eyebrow and notes calmly, "Well, somewhere roundabouts between then and now, something that was previously lifeless came to life."

Well said.

So no one completely denies resurrection, loosely speaking. Christians believe that it's happened before on several occasions. Atheists believe that it happened exactly once, more or less.

My sagacious logician, having spoken his calm sentence, promptly went back to sleep, but I think he would have agreed that this is a category sort of thing. If the well and truly dead cannot come to life, then it can't happen to a decaying human body *or* to a bunch of inert molecules slopping around. If one is prepared to think that primordial soup suddenly takes on an interest in reproduction, that's no less of a miracle in my mind than a body dead for three days deciding to do the same.

So here's to the foolish disciples of Jesus Christ. We believe not only that God brought life to this world eons ago, but also that this same God thought to give us a taste of what else he can do.

And will do.

Jonah, Calvinism, and Pixar's Incredibles

Jonah reminds us that God desperately loves all of humanity. Even the Ninevites.

I was just reading a book on missions that took some time out to reflect on Jonah, and the author asked the searing question: Would we (missionaries) be scared if the whole world came to Christ? "Because it'd put us out of a job?"

In one sense it is of course a preposterous notion... to imagine everyone being a follower of Jesus. No "fears" of that happening any time soon.

But the notion does touch upon a reality in human nature. We do need "others" so as to be reassured of who "we" are. Hegel touched upon it with Master and Slave. (I say that in faith. I never understood that wretched essay which I may as well have read in the original German, for all I could make of what I read in English.) Michel Foucault understood that we need prisons (because the prisoners serve to reassure us that we're free). That may seem an outlandish claim, but the movie "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" was horribly real, and it exposes the same cancerous truth: we need a few crazies in order to reassure ourselves that we, at least, are sane.

Anyway, this takes me to Calvinism which carries on the rich tradition of exclusivism expressed so wonderfully by the Israelites who were sure that God loved Jews... and Jews alone. Yes, Jesus grew up among Jews who believed that Gentiles were just dry wood for the fires of hell. Gentiles themselves were worthless, but useful insofar as they reminded Jews of how wonderful it is to be Jewish.

That notion doesn't sound very true or nice to my ears, and I'm eternally grateful (literally) that Jesus didn't stick to the script he was handed.

But we Christians picked up the same hymnal and resumed the tune our Jewish forebears were singing readily enough. We just switched who's in and who's out. And we call it Calvinism. God only calls some people to eternal life. Others he damns to hell... from eternity past. People yet to be born are already today slated for hell. They WILL NOT be saved. God's got that planned out.

Frankly, I am in awe of the comfort with which we tolerate a view of God that assumes God does not actually want all people to be saved. We can phrase it any way we like, but if God's sovereignty is stated as Calvin would have it stated, that's the secret will of God, to use Calvin's own words.

Which leads me to the paradox stated so eloquently in The Incredibles. "Elastigirl" Helen won't let her son "Dash" run on the school track team (for obvious reasons), and he's irritated that he cannot use his special gifts... it's as if being special is bad.

Helen: "Everyone is special, Dash."
Dash: "Which is another way of saying no one is."

Dash looks a bit like Calvin himself... but here I refer to the "Calvin and Hobbes" Calvin. No matter, The comic Calvin was himself named after John Calvin, so the lineage is clear and appropriate.

But yeah. That scowl on Dash's face says it all, and I dare say many a Christian would sport the same look if he knew how many scummy not-church-attending folk were entering heaven ahead of him. (I think Jesus said something about that.) Can we tolerate the notion that in God's eyes everyone is special?

Stated differently, do we, along with God, really want all people to be saved? Really, really?? Think hard and search your soul before offering a quick answer. Speaking for myself, I know sometimes I do not. The missionary writing about Jonah asked the pointed question, "How did you feel when you heard that Osama Bin Laden had died?"

In our better moments, we should share God's (and here I do quote scriptures) desire that all be saved. Our theology should lean toward everyone being special to God. More often than not, our theology leans the other way.

And before we say it's impossible and heretical to strike out against the received theology cherished in our particular church tradition, let us remember that Jesus was brought up in an environment that had its own received, holy theology, too. He just didn't buy all of it.

Steak Knives In Our Pockets

We wouldn't do it, right? Walk around with sharp steak knives in our pockets? No. Most of us wouldn't.

We don't put them among our bedsheets, either. Not unless we're planning to re-enact one of those scenes from a movie we never should have watched in the first place. No. Most of us wouldn't.

We don't carry sharp steak knives around. It's just not something we do. Steak knives are great in the kitchen. Not so great in our pockets. So many places they don't make sense. So many ways to hurt ourselves.

We tell children, "Don't run with scissors!" Yeah. We keep the scissors in special drawers and try to keep kids from running around with them in their hands. Problem is, scissors and steak knives are bloody useful, if not always useful bloody. That's why kids like scissors. And adults need knives. What to do.

So we came up with the idea of sheaths for the especially sharp knives. You know... those things that make knives hard to use except for those brief moments when you need them? Yeah. Sharp and dangerous things come with protective wrappings. To keep those blasted things from doing their thing on the wrong things.

If only we had as much wisdom with our phones. We don't just run with them. We do everything with them. More or less. Less, too. We do less, and are less, every day on account of them. We arrive at hell unaware of the road we took to get there. Too busy watching the lit screen to realize the ticket we bought a few miles back.

People are worried about rampant opioid addiction? Opioids? They only taken down 1 out of 100.

Opioids and steak knives have got nothing on the cell phones we carry in our pockets. Those phones? They're not sharp, but they sure are smart. And the people who make them, too. They're smart enough to get rich off our stupefying spiritual poverty.

If we were smarter, we wouldn't be so stupid. And we'd be richer for it.

When Programmers Talk Theology

There is a better, longer version of this post. And maybe I'll get to it one day!

In the meantime, let this be a stub for a future post. And here true programmers may call me out for an inadequate understanding of the term stub, but therein lies the stub rub: I'm on a crash course to learn the latest concepts, nearly all of which have been bandied about for 10+ years, and some for more than twice that long. I'm not the person to best explain these terms (or use them properly) from a programming perspective. Maybe next week I will be.

But to the point of this brief placeholder post: two of the terms that really caught my attention are "Dependency Injection" and "Inversion of Control". The former is related to the "Dependency Inversion Principle" which lends itself even more to the intentions of this reflection.

Seriously? Are we talking programming or theology? Well, if you want to know what these terms mean from a programming perspective, here's a link. As for theological uses, that website may not be out there, but I'm thinking there ought to be one. Think of the applications!

For example (and here I am using only headlines taken straight from the website link provide above):

• Inversion of Control — Let God be God, and maybe you're just along for the ride?
• Dependency Injection — See above. (Those word are good for at least two meanings.)
• YAGNI (You Ain't Gonna Need It) — Applicable to how we think about earthly treasures?
• Boy Scout Rule — Applies to code and probably to good Christian living, I'd think.

Well, enough on that for now. I don't have to write any theological treatises today, and nobody else has time to read them anyway.

New Lows In A Culture Only Dimly Aware Of How Dark It Has Become

I just saw an ad on YouTube that revolted me. It wasn't difficult to confirm via Google that I'm not the first to have noted that it had searingly obvious sexual sadomasochistic innuendos. This article notes...

"In one spot for Devour, which is aimed at men aged 25-35 and has a marketing campaign rolling out Monday, a boss finds his employee having an intimate moment with his lunch, which the excited man gives a sexy slap with his fork. The brand's suggestive tagline and campaign name is "Food You Want to Fork."

Of course a part of me feels I am giving life to this sickness by including the above quote here in this blog. That said, what disgusts me now will soon be as endearingly quaint (at least by way of comparison with the advertising filth that is yet to come) as the first marriage bed did when it was first permitted to be seen in a television sitcom a few decades ago.

At some point, one keeps arriving at the naive conclusion that "surely the bottom is near?" It's not. Just you wait, Henry Higgins. Just you wait. There is no bottom. It's filth. All the way down.

But I don't want to end this reflection on this note. The above is what Satan would have for us, but God has not given up on the human race yet. In fact, I found myself reaching for a verse and quickly realized the one I wanted hails from the book of Romans.

How fitting! Paul began his epistle to the Romans with a grave indictment no less somber than my own.

Romans 1:18-24 (excerpted)
The wrath of God is being revealed from heaven against all the godlessness and wickedness of people, who suppress the truth by their wickedness... Their thinking became futile and their foolish hearts were darkened. Although they claimed to be wise, they became fools... Therefore God gave them over in the sinful desires of their hearts to sexual impurity for the degrading of their bodies with one another.

Yes, America may be reaching for new lows, but we have not yet caught up with the depths of darkness plumbed by ancient Rome. Not yet. But we will. And therefore we should, along with Paul, remember the hope we have in Christ. So let us not dwell on the dark assessments of Chapter 1 but rather cling to the promises we find in Chapter 8.

Romans 8:18-19
I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. For the creation waits in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed.

Yes, times are dark, and growing darker still, at an ever increasing pace. The pangs of labor grow sharp. But one day Jesus Christ our Lord will be revealed. Let us be shown on that day to have carried the weight of his glory within us.

Treat. It. Like. The. Game. It. Is.

Those were my very own words.

I was hot. Angry, hot. My child was getting worked up about something or other that a sibling had said while we were all playing a game of street hockey.

The details? Ever so irrelevant. It was just another ridiculous case of one child giving the other no grace after the other child had said something that could have been taken in a good spirit... but which wasn't...

And on and on it goes.

So when my child started to gripe, and with a whining voice threaten to remove the pleasure from the game we were playing, I got hot. "DROP IT NOW..." I said with a raised voice, "And. Treat. It. Like. The. Game. It. Is." This child has learned not to mess with Dad when Dad moves into that tone of voice, so the game proceeded, and pretty soon we were back into fun mode.

One major reason why I get so frustrated is that there is so little at stake. When the game is over, we get on with the rest of the day. The rest of the week. The rest of life. Within a few short weeks, nobody will be able to recall the score, the people who made those goals, or the plays that led up to the goals. All will be lost to time.

We would hope, however, that the time we spent together would be remembered in a more fundamental sense for much, much longer. Let it be remembered that we loved each other. That we played games together.

But the score? The gentle ribbing? Sigh. Do my children not see how unimportant these things are in a game of no consequence?

Fast forward a day or two. I was driving home. A sunny day. Well fed. Healthy. Coming home to a good and nice home. With healthy children. A loving wife. The list of blessings? It could have gone for pages.

Yeah, but you know what I'm going to say next. Was I happy? Not so much. I was grumbling to God about a few things in my life that seemed quite wrong. Things that, in fact, are quite wrong.

But I didn't get too far before I remembered. I am not going to be on Earth forever. A day is coming when the things I wish were otherwise will be gone forever. These things will not concern me in eternity.

You'd think that thought would have given me comfort. But it didn't. "God!" I thought to myself as I drove, "That's why I need this fixed NOW. It won't matter when I'm dead."

So, yeah. I thought that little thought over a bit. And chuckled. I'm no better than my child. Unable to realize that the passing pleasures and blessings of this life cannot compare with what awaits us. Might I miss out on a few good things here on Earth? Most surely. I'm sure we all do. And yet here I am unwilling to take the longer view. Insisting to sit in my mud-puddle, lamenting things I won't miss in 50 years.

Oh, God. Please forgive this petulant child. I can be blessed now. I can enjoy this life, too. If I will but relinquish dwelling on my wounds, I can revel in God's blessings which far outweigh all else.

And when I have passed from this life? I can then dwell in your presence, knowing joys so beyond my present experience that no words could ever capture their essence. And I'll also see clearly in hindsight that, through every moment of the former life—even the dark valleys... Yes, Yes, even there—you were present with me then, too. Present with me then, too.

As I wrote the closing words to this post, I found myself becoming aware of the music playing gently in the background.

You are my shepherd there's nothing I shall want
Beside still waters You lead my spirit on
Your hand will guide me no matter where I walk
Through darkest valley Your love is not far off

I will dwell in Your house forever
Lead me on

I fear no evil, for You are with me
You set this table before my enemies
And You anoint me You overflow my cup
And they will follow me, Your goodness and Your love

I will dwell in Your house forever
Lead me on

Your rod and Your staff are a strange mercy
In a world where I'm not yet home
Your rod and Your staff are a strange mercy
In a world where I'm not yet home

I will dwell in Your house forever
Lead me on
And I will dwell in Your house forever
Lead me on

— Audrey Assad

When St. Paul Has A Hammer...

There is that old saying: If you have a hammer, everything around you starts to look like a nail.

It struck me recently that perhaps a biblical corollary can be spelled out along similar lines. When St. Paul has a point to hammer in, he can be pretty inventive in how he employs the use of various biblical (and even extra-biblical) texts as nails suitable to task. (So... that statement wasn't nearly as pithy or short, but there you have it.)

I should begin by asserting my personal belief that Paul, fallible as he was, was used by God to establish the worldwide Church. In this reflection I have no intention to suggest that Paul's letters are not to be trusted, much less to imply that they were not inspired by God.

Written by a human? Yes. Holy Scriptures? Also, Yes.

But that won't stop me from coming in with eyes wide open, willing to see a fallible and real man behind those inspired words. Moving on...

As modern understandings (based upon very reliable scientific advances) continue to chip away at the heart of the inerrantist view of the Genesis story, one thing that used to bother me suddenly does not bother me quite so much, anymore. I refer here to the story of The Fall. If Adam was not a literal, flesh-and-blood, particular individual, Paul's argument in Romans 5 start to look a bit shaky—at least, as I used to read it.

I've been reading through Romans recently and this conundrum hit me in the head again. But another thought introduced itself, and here I introduce another disclaimer: I'm not a theologian. I'm not even a particularly well-read lay wannabe theologian.

Plain English, please?

I mean to say here that I may be treading on shaky theological ground unawares. And on the other hand I may be on soil so well trod that it's packed down by the feet that have already gone this route. I'm not even sure which analogy is more appropriate. What I am sure of is this: the conservative response will no doubt be to suggest that I am not on soil, but rather quicksand. Meanwhile, the far left long ago abandoned theological terms like infallible and inerrant, so I'd guess they'll suggest I'm walking on a paved road. I feel, for myself, like Peter–trying to walk on water while keeping my eyes on the Lord. Never more than a moment away from starting to sink.

But let's move on. What do I wish to say here? It's this: I think that, in Romans 5, Paul latched upon Adam as a wonderful "nail" to hammer away at precisely because the point Paul wanted to make dealt directly with The Fall and with Jesus. Paul saw a beautiful sermon illustration waiting like low-hanging fruit: a comparison between Adam and Jesus. Both of them were, needless to say, "one man". This is not rocket science, but let's just look at the passage with that focus in mind....

Romans 5:12-19
Therefore, just as sin entered the world through one man, and death through sin, and in this way death came to all people, because all sinned—
To be sure, sin was in the world before the law was given, but sin is not charged against anyone’s account where there is no law. Nevertheless, death reigned from the time of Adam to the time of Moses, even over those who did not sin by breaking a command, as did Adam, who is a pattern of the one to come.
But the gift is not like the trespass. For if the many died by the trespass of the one man, how much more did God’s grace and the gift that came by the grace of the one man, Jesus Christ, overflow to the many! Nor can the gift of God be compared with the result of one man’s sin: The judgment followed one sin and brought condemnation, but the gift followed many trespasses and brought justification. For if, by the trespass of the one man, death reigned through that one man, how much more will those who receive God’s abundant provision of grace and of the gift of righteousness reign in life through the one man, Jesus Christ!
Consequently, just as one trespass resulted in condemnation for all people, so also one righteous act resulted in justification and life for all people. For just as through the disobedience of the one man the many were made sinners, so also through the obedience of the one man the many will be made righteous.

Now needless to say, this is all terribly significant stuff. I'm not such a theological novice as to be unaware that a ton of Christian doctrine is pinned on this passage. I get that. But take a step back and look at it again. It wasn't Adam who introduced sin to the world, according to the Genesis account. If we're going to treat it inerrantly (which I don't), that honor goes to Eve.

Of course, of course! I know. I'm not the first to have noticed this. And there's going to be a work-around, to be sure. Adam as the representative. Adam as the one to whom the commandment was given.

Yada. Yada. Yada.

But wipe the excuses off the table, and we're back to the fact: It was Eve who first sinned. We, men and women, are equally sinful. Equally in need of God. Equally in Christ, our redeemer. And, according to Genesis, it was Eve who first sinned.

So why does Paul hammer away at Adam? My 2 cents? Because it suited his sermon illustration.

(I'm waiting for the lightning to strike.)

Seriously. Some theologian will tell me I'm pulling the pin out beneath a skyscraper, but I am not feeling it. Sin definitely came into the world. And Jesus leads the way out of the mess we made. But even as science chips away at any last notion that there was a first, single, "My name is Adam" individual, so too I am feeling that Romans 5 doesn't require it either. An inerrant approach to the topic should have used Eve in the first place. But Paul didn't.

And what led me to get this reflection down was the realization that St. Paul really did play a bit loose with his illustrations. After all, he said the same thing I just said. When? He did it when the sermon called for a woman.

1 Timothy 2:13-14
A woman should learn in quietness and full submission. I do not permit a woman to teach or to assume authority over a man; she must be quiet. For Adam was formed first, then Eve. And Adam was not the one deceived; it was the woman who was deceived and became a sinner. But women will be saved through childbearing—if they continue in faith, love and holiness with propriety.

Oh, yeah, this passage causes a lot of heartburn, and for entirely other reasons that relate to gender equality and all of that. I'm not here to pick it apart for those reasons. I post it here to note the simple thing about it, and it's this: St. Paul had a point to make, and it suddenly became convenient to refer to Eve as the first sinner. In this passage, it is Eve who first introduces sin to the world. Can we just acknowledge that fact, together?

I'm probably trying to accomplish too much by throwing this next bit in, but I see (for myself, at least) a bit of the same free-wheeling "sermon-on-the-fly" approach in this next one, too...

Galatians 3:15-29 (excerpted)
Brothers and sisters, let me take an example from everyday life...
...The promises were spoken to Abraham and to his seed. Scripture does not say “and to seeds,” meaning many people, but “and to your seed,” meaning one person, who is Christ.
...What I mean is this...
...So in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith... for you are all one in Christ Jesus.
... If you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s seed, and heirs according to the promise.

What I don't doubt or question is that by God's sovereignty, this passage is Holy Scriptures. But take a step back and also call it what it looks like: Paul moving fast as he shares "from the pulpit." One minute the seed is singular. And that's really important. Because it's Jesus. *NOT* a bunch of people. A moment later, it's plural. Because we are one with Christ. It *IS* a bunch of people. And for Paul's purposes, both are true, and I do get what he means. But he is having his seed cake and splitting it two. We can acknowledge that, can't we?

Or how about Jannes and Jambres?

2 Timothy 3:7-9
They are the kind who worm their way into homes and gain control over gullible women, who are loaded down with sins and are swayed by all kinds of evil desires, always learning but never able to come to a knowledge of the truth. Just as Jannes and Jambres opposed Moses, so also these teachers oppose the truth. They are men of depraved minds, who, as far as the faith is concerned, are rejected. But they will not get very far because, as in the case of those men, their folly will be clear to everyone.

Once again, we see Paul pulling out a sermon illustration, and as one able to relate to the common man, he uses known personages. Paul compares evil men that we as Christians should avoid to "Jannes and Jambres"–except that those names are not from the Old Testament. The names themselves are about as "factual" as the names of the three wise men that visited baby Jesus.

Don't know what I'm talking about? If so, you were probably raised in different Christian tradition—or perhaps a non-religious home. I didn't grow up with those names. To me they were just three wise men. But many Christians grew up knowing the names Balthasar (of Arabia), Melchior (of Persia), and Gaspar (of India). With all due respect, however, we don't know their names. (And isn't that convenient that these three individuals covered three distinct regions of the known earth??) There's absolutely no reason to assume those names (or place of origin) are accurate. There is no such information in the gospel account! And if out of four gospel accounts only Matthew notes them, it's not as if their names and their stories were commonly known. These extra details pop up (out of the blue) literally hundreds of years after Matthew penned his gospel. For hundreds of years, their names were not known. And then suddenly we know them. Right.... Sure....

[Editor's note: In point of fact, the astute reader may have noted that my reference to three wise men itself isn't an accurate one. Why? Because St. Matthew referred to magi, but he gave neither names nor a count of how many there were. The rest is tradition, which most of us Christians have swallowed either in part (the count of three) or in whole (hell, we even know their names and place of birth!). Admit it! Many who didn't grow up with names did grow up with three wise men in every picture and every nativity scene. But most of us didn't notice that the number three is no less contrived than the names and origins others have helpfully added to the narrative!]

Friends, this same logic applies to Jannes and Jambres. How credible would the claim be that the names of two Egyptian magicians would pass unmentioned for (literally) more than a thousand years!!! Unmentioned. And then. Suddenly. Their names are known.

Really? And we believe this??

Or might it be that the names Jannes and Jambres were invented later? Just maybe? But the point I am making is not to criticize Paul -- he's just speaking to peers in terms that both he and they commonly understand. Jannes and Jambres. We have our three wise men. They had Jannes and Jambres. The bad guys. Isn't that the part that matters? My point is that Paul is only doing that. I don't have to hang my faith on the reliability of these two Johnny-come-lately names any less than I hang the truth of the incarnation on the names of the [three] magi that Matthew never counted, let alone named.

The point Paul made to Timothy stands just as well without the sermon illustration as it does with. Jannes and Jambres don't make or break the significant things Paul had to say. Not in this passage. Nor, I venture to say, in Galatians. Or in Romans.

So I end this reflection with this simple conclusion. I'm not as worried as I used to be about how to square our scientific understanding of origins with Paul's treatment of Adam as one, particular individual. Paul was making a point, and his point stands. Sin entered the world. That's the point (among many others) that we can take from the Genesis account, and Paul reiterates it. As for the singular Adam? Adam "himself" isn't the lynchpin to this argument. Which is a relief, because it's (in my heart, at least) quite clear that there was no lonely first individual raised up from literal dust, as if by CGI magic. God could have done it that way. But I don't think he did.

My faith survives that statement just fine, and realizing now (my opinion, anyway) that Paul used Adam (instead of Eve) because he was a great counter-balance to Jesus makes me feel more comfortable that, as with Genesis, so with Paul. Don't read into the words more than God requires.

I take Paul's conclusions on faith, not least because they are good and lead to godly living, but also because most of them do not rest upon precarious science. In those rare cases where they do, however, the conclusions are still trustworthy. (We have a sin problem that dates to our very origins. And I don't doubt Paul's counsel to Timothy was well-advised.) But I don't think God requires us to cling tenaciously to things science has helped us to see were never the case.

There will, of course, be some things in the Bible that science cannot speak to. We call them miracles. And I believe they happened and happen. So, for the record... science will never explain how Jesus rose from the dead. Science assures us he did not. I still believe Jesus did rise from the grave on the third day. This gives me hope based upon faith. Science, in contrast, provides no hope beyond the grave–and never will.