But this post on Anderkoo needs to be shared.
Obama’s theology of reconciliation and perfection
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Monday, March 10, 2008
Who does God say that I am?
Who does God say that I am? That seems more than a little backwards. And yet it is an important question.
A few years ago, I read "Letters to a Young Doubter" by William Sloane Coffin, in which the elderly Christian encouraged his young friend to consider what it might mean to "let God tell you who you are." There are so many voices in this world trying to tell us who we are. Tune them out and listen to God's voice.
This concept hit me like a ton of bricks. I later learned that if I knew anything at all about twentieth-century American religious history I would have known that the Rev. Coffin was one of the major Christian figures and "it is God who tells us who we are" was his constant refrain. Oh well, I know that now. And it is definitely a refrain worth repeating.
This of course raises the question: if it is God who tells us who we are, what is God saying? Well, when I actually sit down and listen, God tells me that I am his own good creation. I am fearfully and wonderfully made, knit together in my mother's womb by the very hand of God. Yes, I screw that up, and yes that needs to be addressed, but that comes second. First and foremost, I am God's precious and wonderful child.
When I know that, really deep down in my soul know my own inherent goodness, then who needs anything else? Chasing after success and prestige seems pretty ridiculous. When I really hear God's voice and am secure in that knowledge of my goodness, then I don't need to prove anything. I can be much gentler with everyone else because I am better able to recognize that they also are God's good creation, despite how they might be mucking things up at the moment.
This Leviticus project from January continues to haunt my thoughts. A friend of mine has said how Leviticus taught her that she is a terrible sinner, and with that knowledge she can be much more forgiving of those who have hurt her. This makes no sense to me at all. When I see myself first and foremost as a terrible sinner, even a forgiven one, then all I want to do is hide under the bed. I'm in no shape to be reaching out to anyone. When I know that I do sin and need (and receive) forgiveness but underneath it all my essence is profoundly good, I can also recognize that profound goodness in everyone else.
A few years ago, I read "Letters to a Young Doubter" by William Sloane Coffin, in which the elderly Christian encouraged his young friend to consider what it might mean to "let God tell you who you are." There are so many voices in this world trying to tell us who we are. Tune them out and listen to God's voice.
This concept hit me like a ton of bricks. I later learned that if I knew anything at all about twentieth-century American religious history I would have known that the Rev. Coffin was one of the major Christian figures and "it is God who tells us who we are" was his constant refrain. Oh well, I know that now. And it is definitely a refrain worth repeating.
This of course raises the question: if it is God who tells us who we are, what is God saying? Well, when I actually sit down and listen, God tells me that I am his own good creation. I am fearfully and wonderfully made, knit together in my mother's womb by the very hand of God. Yes, I screw that up, and yes that needs to be addressed, but that comes second. First and foremost, I am God's precious and wonderful child.
When I know that, really deep down in my soul know my own inherent goodness, then who needs anything else? Chasing after success and prestige seems pretty ridiculous. When I really hear God's voice and am secure in that knowledge of my goodness, then I don't need to prove anything. I can be much gentler with everyone else because I am better able to recognize that they also are God's good creation, despite how they might be mucking things up at the moment.
This Leviticus project from January continues to haunt my thoughts. A friend of mine has said how Leviticus taught her that she is a terrible sinner, and with that knowledge she can be much more forgiving of those who have hurt her. This makes no sense to me at all. When I see myself first and foremost as a terrible sinner, even a forgiven one, then all I want to do is hide under the bed. I'm in no shape to be reaching out to anyone. When I know that I do sin and need (and receive) forgiveness but underneath it all my essence is profoundly good, I can also recognize that profound goodness in everyone else.
Friday, February 22, 2008
On seeing clearly, literally and spiritually
Several years ago, a friend of mine got eyeglasses for the first time. His comment on the experience has stuck with me ever since -- "I never knew the world was so clear!" I've often had the same reaction when I get a new prescription. I thought I could see just fine -- but it turned out there was a whole other world of possibilities out there, and I didn't even know I was missing it.
I've often thought that this is a good metaphor for the convicting work of the Holy Spirit. I may be chugging along, thinking I'm doing just fine, not even aware that there's this whole other world of possibilities out there. I never knew that my life could be so clear.
And, of course, the entire purpose here is restoration. My optometrist wants me to realize that I'm not in fact seeing all that well -- but only so that I can get the prescription that will enable me to see clearly. There's no interest whatsoever in beating me down for its own sake -- nor is there any expectation that I should forego corrective lenses and just see clearly by sheer force of will. That way madness lies.
The same thing is true in the spiritual realm. The goal here is to get me seeing clearly, seeing through God's eyes. That's never going to happen unless I first realize that I am not now seeing clearly, and take advantage of the offered prescription.
These thoughts were inspired by the latest essay in the excellent Christian Vision Project.
http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2008/february/32.76.html
I've often thought that this is a good metaphor for the convicting work of the Holy Spirit. I may be chugging along, thinking I'm doing just fine, not even aware that there's this whole other world of possibilities out there. I never knew that my life could be so clear.
And, of course, the entire purpose here is restoration. My optometrist wants me to realize that I'm not in fact seeing all that well -- but only so that I can get the prescription that will enable me to see clearly. There's no interest whatsoever in beating me down for its own sake -- nor is there any expectation that I should forego corrective lenses and just see clearly by sheer force of will. That way madness lies.
The same thing is true in the spiritual realm. The goal here is to get me seeing clearly, seeing through God's eyes. That's never going to happen unless I first realize that I am not now seeing clearly, and take advantage of the offered prescription.
These thoughts were inspired by the latest essay in the excellent Christian Vision Project.
http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2008/february/32.76.html
Friday, February 15, 2008
Levitical Wrap-Up 2: Two weeks later
So, after being "free from the law" for two weeks, how do I look back on January's Levitical Adventure?
All in all, I did not care for it. I can handle the thought of making a costly sacrifice that does some good in the world. Living Levitically seemed to be jumping through hoops for the sake of jumping through hoops. It grated. It felt deeply isolating -- and there's a difference between solitude and isolation. This was isolation.
In the process, I lost touch with the character of God. I was beginning to picture the Almighty constantly aggravated with failure to jump through some hoop or another. Ummm, no. There most definitely is a character known as The Accuser ("Ha Satan" in Hebrew) -- but that Accuser isn't who I was thinking it was. Ouch. You really don't want to confuse those two. That's not a good move.
That particular theological disaster took a dramatic turn at the end of the month, thank heavens. The Lord is rich in kindness and abounding in mercy. I want to live in the presence of the Lord. I want my character to grow to be more and more like the character of God. Still, I have a very hard time believing that Leviticus is the way to do that.
I was talking with my Consultant on February 1, musing that maybe I had approached this wrong. I had taken a pretty literal approach, hoping to find meaning experientially. Maybe I should have done more analysis on the front end. I just cannot get worked up about mixed fibers -- but maybe the modern-day equivalent would be avoiding clothes made in sweatshops. Boy would that be hard, and talk about countercultural! But it would be difficult in ways that make sense to me.
He says that's the wrong way to think about it. There are plenty of places in Torah talking about how you treat your workers, and it would be reasonable in a market economy to extend that to refusing to buy from those who treat workers poorly. But prohibitions on mixing are different in kind.
Consultant continues:
"But if you wonder how you might have felt that these commandments brought you closer to G-d, one fairly common viewpoint is that many of these commandments are meaningful precisely because they have no inherent meaning: they are arbitrary acts done to show your utter submission and faith. My dog doesn't know why I tell her to heel and sit -- and she may well be smart enough to realize that I don't need her to on most occasions when I tell her to. But it's something we can do together, that challenges her and gives her an opportunity to show her love. That's enough."
Wow. And gulp. Because if I'm at all honest with myself, I have to admit that's not enough for me. Maybe it should be, but at least right now it's just not.
So, what do I do? Well, this road to holiness is a long one. And neither the Prophets nor Jesus had much patience with those who missed the forest for the trees. So maybe, at least for right now, I focus on the righteousness of God. There are worse things in this world to focus on. And maybe, over time, I'll come to see the holiness codes in a new light. But at least for right now I need to set them aside.
All in all, I did not care for it. I can handle the thought of making a costly sacrifice that does some good in the world. Living Levitically seemed to be jumping through hoops for the sake of jumping through hoops. It grated. It felt deeply isolating -- and there's a difference between solitude and isolation. This was isolation.
In the process, I lost touch with the character of God. I was beginning to picture the Almighty constantly aggravated with failure to jump through some hoop or another. Ummm, no. There most definitely is a character known as The Accuser ("Ha Satan" in Hebrew) -- but that Accuser isn't who I was thinking it was. Ouch. You really don't want to confuse those two. That's not a good move.
That particular theological disaster took a dramatic turn at the end of the month, thank heavens. The Lord is rich in kindness and abounding in mercy. I want to live in the presence of the Lord. I want my character to grow to be more and more like the character of God. Still, I have a very hard time believing that Leviticus is the way to do that.
I was talking with my Consultant on February 1, musing that maybe I had approached this wrong. I had taken a pretty literal approach, hoping to find meaning experientially. Maybe I should have done more analysis on the front end. I just cannot get worked up about mixed fibers -- but maybe the modern-day equivalent would be avoiding clothes made in sweatshops. Boy would that be hard, and talk about countercultural! But it would be difficult in ways that make sense to me.
He says that's the wrong way to think about it. There are plenty of places in Torah talking about how you treat your workers, and it would be reasonable in a market economy to extend that to refusing to buy from those who treat workers poorly. But prohibitions on mixing are different in kind.
Consultant continues:
"But if you wonder how you might have felt that these commandments brought you closer to G-d, one fairly common viewpoint is that many of these commandments are meaningful precisely because they have no inherent meaning: they are arbitrary acts done to show your utter submission and faith. My dog doesn't know why I tell her to heel and sit -- and she may well be smart enough to realize that I don't need her to on most occasions when I tell her to. But it's something we can do together, that challenges her and gives her an opportunity to show her love. That's enough."
Wow. And gulp. Because if I'm at all honest with myself, I have to admit that's not enough for me. Maybe it should be, but at least right now it's just not.
So, what do I do? Well, this road to holiness is a long one. And neither the Prophets nor Jesus had much patience with those who missed the forest for the trees. So maybe, at least for right now, I focus on the righteousness of God. There are worse things in this world to focus on. And maybe, over time, I'll come to see the holiness codes in a new light. But at least for right now I need to set them aside.
Monday, February 4, 2008
Okay, blogging experts
Anybody know why one of my posts has disappeared and is just replaced with all those lines? I go into "Edit Posts" and all my text is still there but the simply will not show up anymore.
My current guess is that it was just too dark for words and what appears to be a technological blip is in fact divine intervention. This is theologically disturbing. Anybody got other suggestions?
My current guess is that it was just too dark for words and what appears to be a technological blip is in fact divine intervention. This is theologically disturbing. Anybody got other suggestions?
Leviticus meditations: Sin and Mercy
So, I had a hard time with Leviticus month. For about thirty days and eighteen hours, I groused and complained. My postings were progressively getting darker and darker. I was talking to a friend about the month and after I referred to the Law as "unremitting suckitude" he asked if he should be gathering stones. A while ago, I mentioned my childhood pastor describing God's giving the Law as "'I'm going to be your God and you're going to be my people and this is how we're going to live.' Then they shook hands and had a party." I forgot the handshake and forgot the party. It wasn't going well.
Early in the month I had been reading through the sacrificial section and was convinced that the modern-day, post Jesus equivalent is sacramental confession.
(Actual classification as "sacrament" is largely beside the point. Another friend agrees this is certainly a good thing to do, but is not convinced that "sacrament" is an appropriate label. OK, whatever.)
This is something I knew about from my Catholic days, but had never been part of my life. I had "gone to confession"/"received the sacrament"/whatever you want to call it a grand total of once, when I was ten years old. I was not interested in doing this again -- but the way I was not wanting to do this made me think that I really ought to. So I borrowed a Book of Common Prayer to look up the Episcopal liturgy, made arrangements with an incredibly accommodating confessor, who, not being Catholic, had really not signed up for this, took a very deep breath and jumped in.
I don't know what I was expecting, but this was not what I was expecting. This was Large. This was a Major Life Event. I spent hours dredging up the muck in my life and preparing my list -- and then it was all washed away. Gone. I was walking on air.
And all of a sudden I knew that I was in a really good place and I did not want to muck it up. "OK God, this is fantastic. I want to stay here. Whaddya want me to do?" And at the same time, I knew that I was going to muck it up, and that was OK. Well, no, it wasn't OK -- but it was going to happen, and I could keep coming back. The door would always be open.
Everything had changed.
Early in the month I had been reading through the sacrificial section and was convinced that the modern-day, post Jesus equivalent is sacramental confession.
(Actual classification as "sacrament" is largely beside the point. Another friend agrees this is certainly a good thing to do, but is not convinced that "sacrament" is an appropriate label. OK, whatever.)
This is something I knew about from my Catholic days, but had never been part of my life. I had "gone to confession"/"received the sacrament"/whatever you want to call it a grand total of once, when I was ten years old. I was not interested in doing this again -- but the way I was not wanting to do this made me think that I really ought to. So I borrowed a Book of Common Prayer to look up the Episcopal liturgy, made arrangements with an incredibly accommodating confessor, who, not being Catholic, had really not signed up for this, took a very deep breath and jumped in.
I don't know what I was expecting, but this was not what I was expecting. This was Large. This was a Major Life Event. I spent hours dredging up the muck in my life and preparing my list -- and then it was all washed away. Gone. I was walking on air.
And all of a sudden I knew that I was in a really good place and I did not want to muck it up. "OK God, this is fantastic. I want to stay here. Whaddya want me to do?" And at the same time, I knew that I was going to muck it up, and that was OK. Well, no, it wasn't OK -- but it was going to happen, and I could keep coming back. The door would always be open.
Everything had changed.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Leviticus meditations: Dispensations
So, I nearly made it through the whole month following the dietary laws (aside from the Burrito Incident which gave rise to TWO posts) but yesterday I slipped up. Actually, it wasn't even a slip-up. It was a deliberate decision when I had an acceptable option right in front of me. And yet I don't feel bad about it.
Right after giving blood I moseyed over to Au Bon Pain for lunch and made a beeline for the vegetarian soups like a good girl. But I wasn't feeling so hot and the pot of chicken noodle seemed like a MUCH better idea. So that's what I did.
(It's always tricky to judge your own motivations but I'm reasonably confident here because I really like the carrot-ginger and would usually choose that over the chicken noodle, Leviticus or no. Trying to be as objective as possible, I do think my body was looking to replenish something it had just lost.)
I talked to my Consultant about this. He says I absolutely, without question, needed to go with the carrot-ginger. Just about all rules are waived in order to save a life. But that's it. "Saving a life" gets interpreted very broadly, as it should, but there's no way I was going to keel over from the carrot-ginger soup so that's what I should have done.
I grew up Catholic and am familiar with dietary disciplines, on a lesser scale. But we also had the idea of "dispensations." As a general rule, avoid eating meat on this day ... but not if you're sick, or very young or very old, or there's some overriding event (post-funeral luncheons is one that comes up a lot). A discipline may generally be a good idea, but life is not one-size-fits-all and exceptions should be made.
Now these dispensations can get abused. Anybody remember the hubbub that ensued a few years ago when the then-brand new Archbishop refused to grant a dispensation from Lenten disciplines on Fenway Park opening day, simply because that happened to fall on Good Friday and he thought Good Friday should trump baseball? The nerve! I also remember my high school having a fundraising festival on a Friday evening in Lent and our chaplain (a good guy, who I respected very much) was going around granting dispensations -- they'll sell a lot more pizza if people can get the pepperoni instead of just plain cheese. Really, people.
Still, just because abuses exist does not mean that the underlying idea is baseless. I think this is a pretty legitimate one. So I gave myself a dispensation and am not worrying about it.
What sayeth the tribe? Is this a sensible and reasonable approach or simply opening the door to justify anything and everything?
Right after giving blood I moseyed over to Au Bon Pain for lunch and made a beeline for the vegetarian soups like a good girl. But I wasn't feeling so hot and the pot of chicken noodle seemed like a MUCH better idea. So that's what I did.
(It's always tricky to judge your own motivations but I'm reasonably confident here because I really like the carrot-ginger and would usually choose that over the chicken noodle, Leviticus or no. Trying to be as objective as possible, I do think my body was looking to replenish something it had just lost.)
I talked to my Consultant about this. He says I absolutely, without question, needed to go with the carrot-ginger. Just about all rules are waived in order to save a life. But that's it. "Saving a life" gets interpreted very broadly, as it should, but there's no way I was going to keel over from the carrot-ginger soup so that's what I should have done.
I grew up Catholic and am familiar with dietary disciplines, on a lesser scale. But we also had the idea of "dispensations." As a general rule, avoid eating meat on this day ... but not if you're sick, or very young or very old, or there's some overriding event (post-funeral luncheons is one that comes up a lot). A discipline may generally be a good idea, but life is not one-size-fits-all and exceptions should be made.
Now these dispensations can get abused. Anybody remember the hubbub that ensued a few years ago when the then-brand new Archbishop refused to grant a dispensation from Lenten disciplines on Fenway Park opening day, simply because that happened to fall on Good Friday and he thought Good Friday should trump baseball? The nerve! I also remember my high school having a fundraising festival on a Friday evening in Lent and our chaplain (a good guy, who I respected very much) was going around granting dispensations -- they'll sell a lot more pizza if people can get the pepperoni instead of just plain cheese. Really, people.
Still, just because abuses exist does not mean that the underlying idea is baseless. I think this is a pretty legitimate one. So I gave myself a dispensation and am not worrying about it.
What sayeth the tribe? Is this a sensible and reasonable approach or simply opening the door to justify anything and everything?
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