One True Religion?

16 05 2012

Q: There are lots of religions in the world. So how can a Christian presume that his religion is the only right one?

A: Short answer: A Christian shouldn’t presume that. His religion isn’t the only right one.

Slightly longer answer: If by “the only right one” a Christian is saying that everything his religion says is right and everything every other religion says is wrong, then he’s denying one of the fundamental claims of his own religion, namely, that Christianity is the fulfillment, not the negation, of the religion of Old Testament Israel. Furthermore, it’s just obvious that Christianity has a lot in common with both Judaism and Islam. And, in fact, Christianity has various teachings and practices in common with pretty much every other religion in the world: Christian missionaries have been building on those common features for centuries.

Even longer answer: First, let’s clear the ground a bit. Just because there are lots of opinions about an issue doesn’t mean that one opinion isn’t right and the others are wrong. A math teacher might receive a wide range of responses (= ”opinions”) on an exam, but she knows that only “x + 3” is the correct answer. You ask for directions in a strange town to the museum, and four locals give you four different answers, but the answers usually aren’t all equal in effectively getting you to your destination. So the mere presence of multiple opinions says nothing immediately about whether there is more than one correct answer—or even whether a correct answer is available at all.

Second, we can think of religions as maps and directions on how to best use the maps. They describe reality and tell us how best to negotiate reality. As such, religions that patently fail to describe reality accurately or to tell us how to negotiate it effectively fall out of use in favour of religions that do a better job.

We can also assume that religions that do work, at least somewhat, will make assertions about reality that overlap with assertions made on other maps. If we’re trying to walk from the western edge of Venice to the eastern, any decent map is going to include a description of the Grand Canal and of at least one of the very few bridges that cross it. So even the worst map that actually works—that anyone living in Venice will give you–will share at least some information with the best map possible.

So of course the world’s religions share various claims and practices with others. The world is what it is and living in it is done most effectively this way rather than that, so religions that approximate those realities are going to share a lot of the same claims.

Third, allowing then that more than one religion can be true in important respects doesn’t mean that all religions are equally good, nor that one religion isn’t the best of those available. If you actually had a map and a guidebook furnished by the founder, planner, builder, and ruler of the area–who also demonstrably has taken great pains to communicate with you as truthfully and helpfully as possible–then you’d be very glad to have such instructions and you would have good grounds to consider them the best available. You might even want to share them with people you care about.

That’s what Christians do when they preach the gospel. They say, “We are so thankful to have been given The Directions by The Maker. And they’re free! Come get them!”

Maybe there are better directions available elsewhere. If so, please tell us. We, like any other sensible people, want the best help we can get. But we hope you won’t be angry with us if we’re pretty enthusiastic about what we think is the best map and guidebook we’ve ever seen and we want to share it with you.

In fact, shouldn’t you be angry with us instead if we wouldn’t?

John Stackhouse, from his latest answer at Ask John





“What if you’re wrong?”

19 03 2012

A girl asked atheist Richard Dawkins one day, “What if you’re wrong?” In typical deprecating  fashion, Dawkins turned the question back to the girl, “But what if you are wrong?” [i]

The argument in Dawkins’ response, if you think about it, is essentially relativism. The reason we believe what we believe – in flying spaghettis, Zeus, or the Christian God – is because we were brought in a particular culture and nurtured in those beliefs. Had we been brought up somewhere else, our religious outlook would be different. As Dawkins has expressed in writing, “No doubt soaring cathedrals, stirring music, moving stories and parables, help a bit. But by far the most important variable determining your religion is the accident of birth.”[ii]

The assumption behind this assertion is significant: geographical determination. None of us can pretend to Truth, because our belief is socially determined. If we would believe in Thor had we been born a Viking, how can we pretend that our belief in God could be true? Atheists like Dawkins conclude that the diversity of human belief across history is the definite proof against God. If we see humans inventing objects of worship so creatively and so pervasively – sacred cows, the sun, Mother Earth, or God – surely the monotheistic God is just another invention, maybe more complex and civilized than the others, but a human creation nonetheless.

But let’s turn the table again: “Yes, sure, but what if you are wrong?” By the same logic, the only reason someone like Dawkins believes in relativism is because he was brought up in contemporary Britain. His belief is also socially determined, so how can he assert that his view is right and every other religious view is wrong? How come every other view is relativized but his relativism remains absolute? Relativism is not only arrogant toward others, but thoroughly inconsistent with itself.

Still, the argument of religious diversity is an eloquent one. Humans are intrinsically religious, and will find something to worship no matter how strange the god or goddess may be. On what basis can we assert that one specific belief is true while so many others are wrong? Doesn’t religious diversity lead us to conclude that religion is essentially a human creation?

For me the evidence points precisely in the opposite direction. Humans are intrinsically religious because there is a real God who created us, and who we are searching for. We have this innate hunger because there is true satisfaction for our divine longing out there, just like our physical hunger demonstrates that there is real food that meets our needs. The fact that people eat the most bizarre objects – serpents, leafs, eggs of fish – is not proof that our physical hunger is a projection, but a precise proof of our need for food. Similarly, the diversity of belief across history is not proof that our soul hunger is a projection, but a precise proof that we have a craving for the divine, and will search for God even in the most unlikely of places.

But the skeptic may still rightly ask, “Ok, but on what basis do you claim that people search for God while adoring nature, and not, let’s say, search for the true goddess Aphrodite while worshipping the monotheistic God?” This is a great question, and could be dealt adequately only with another article. Yet atheism gives us a telling hint: if there were no God there would be no God to deny. “If there were no God, there would be no Atheists,” quipped G. K. Chesterton. Has there ever been an articulated, sustained movement like atheism against sacred cows or Aphrodite? Our very denial – of an eternal, omnipotent Father – assumes the form of what exists objectively. Our doubt mirrors our faith: we would not have to deny the existence of God if there was really no God to deny.

Belief in God could still be wrong, of course. But the diversity of human belief does not discredit faith, but rather, shows how forcefully we crave to worship something. If people are ready to adore even built statues at times, this shows us how urgent and true our spiritual hunger is. Religious diversity does not discourage robust faith, but is actually a compelling motivation to lead us to search, and discern, and surrender to, what is it that pulls our spirits so strongly toward worship.

René Breuel


[i] This video clip is actually the most seen Dawkins video on Youtube. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6mmskXXetcg

[ii] Richard Dawkins, as quoted in his own website, http://richarddawkins.net/quotes/10.





Risks worthy of taking?

9 03 2012

Would I hold on to the tree branch or to my sliding shorts?

Well, before we arrive at the dilemma: only a week ago eight men and I stood with excited anticipation to enter our 23km jungle hike. The forecast of heat and rain proved correct, I pulled off my shirt to soak in every moment! Passing snakes, kangaroos, and iguanas, we pressed through cobwebs and swollen creeks of rushing water towards our final destination.

However, our steady advance came to a halt mid-stream a particularly deep creek. The rushing knee deep water caused a friend in front of me to lose balance,  slip, and begin a slide into deeper, swifter, flowing currents. At this point I took a risk.  Lunging forward, I took hold of him and pushed him into the hands of friends standing securely on higher ground. Unfortunately, as I grabbed him my waist went below the water line. Consequently, the rapidly flowing water pulled my shorts down to my thighs making it impossible to stand up! Clinging to my shorts, inclusive of all undergarments, I myself now had been dragged into the rapids! Fearing to lose total control I reached out to grasp a low lying tree branch overhanging the water. So there I was… stuck in rapids with one arm clinging to the branch, another to my shorts… and sadly, something would have to give. I cried out as I felt the remaining hope of pulling my shorts up to a socially appropriate position was tugged off the end of my shoes. Eight friends, now safely watching from shore, failed to see why I refused to leave the murky waters. Reluctantly pulling myself from the water to the sound of hysterical laughter and whistle blows, I really wondered if the risk I took to help my friend was really worthy of taking.

We all take risks, but what compels us to take them? Risks can be mundane, like riding in a car or going for a walk, or extreme. A soldier may jump on a grenade or a parent may enter a burning house. My conclusion is that we take risks mostly because we believe them to be worth taking, even though it may cost us our “shorts”.

When I read about the disciples of Jesus I am struck by the contrast of their disposition of fear to risk-taking courage. After Jesus is arrested and crucified the disciples were scared stiff, even going so far as to lock themselves into a room.[1] Yet, only a short time later the disciples are taking all sorts of risks to publically and enthusiastically to announce Jesus as the risen Lord.[2] Peter, who previously wouldn’t even admit to knowing Jesus, is suddenly risking his life taking physical and verbal beatings to tell others about Jesus![3] Acts records, “Day after day, in the temple courts and from house to house, they [the disciples] never stopped teaching and proclaiming the good news that Jesus is the Christ.[4] What compelled the disciples to move from fear to risk-taking courage? The witnessed resurrection of Jesus! The resurrection brought new life into the disciple’s vision and sent them forward with a message they believed was true, good and worth sharing— a risk worthy of taking.

Ryan Vallee


[1] John 20:19-23.

[2] Acts 5:42.

[3] John 18:15.

[4] Acts 5:42.





Is Doubt the Enemy of Faith?

25 01 2012

Doubt gets a bad rap. We live in a world where we are not supposed to doubt, it is unhealthy—bad. Doubts, though, are like confrontations, which also have a bad rap. However, it is in confrontations that change can happen. Sometimes my wife needs to confront me, and at that point there is a back and forth until eventually one of us realizes our error (or often we both do) and we change. Today—we are so afraid of confrontations—we don’t have them. In a Facebook generation we just unfriend, ignore or avoid—but then we are depriving ourselves and others of possibly growing.

Doubts are the same way. We often are afraid of them—or we don’t deal with them—but then we never grow. In fact they may actually help. How do I know? Look at the famous, but often misunderstood biblical story of Doubting Thomas often used to illustrate how it is wrong to doubt. It can be found at the end of the Book of John.

What does Jesus do when he approaches Thomas here? Two things: First, he calls him out for doubting clear evidence—the other apostles eyewitness accounts. Most people highlight this aspect of the story. However, the second thing Jesus does is actually gives into the demands of Thomas! Thomas demands to see Jesus, his pierced hands and side, and then Jesus—after rebuking Thomas, actually gives him exactly what he demands. Why would he do that?

Jesus is trying to keep Thomas, as well as the listener from falling into one of two camps prevalent in ancient and modern culture. The first camp can be called the blind faith camp.  This group of people thinks doubts are the enemy of faith. That blind faith camp never questions their faith, never ask hard questions, and never seeks answers for when doubts rise up. They say that the definition of faith, is you don’t know, so stop trying to ask questions and just believe. There is almost a fear if that if you do ask questions then you will lose your faith.

The second camp out there is what I call the persistent cynicism camp.  These are individuals who try to poke holes in everything and mock all truth statements, and undermine all claims of purpose. I know these people exist because I was one of them. Whose to say what is true? What is true for you is true for you, but what is true for me is true for me. In some respects these people are committed to the belief that there is no belief—there is nothing else out there.

Through his actions, Jesus wants to avoid both extremes. Notice he rebukes Thomas not for doubting in general—but for doubting clear evidence from his friends. In other words, he was in the
persistent cynicism camp. He was not seeking or trying to find answers, he made a blanket statement and he was not going to budge. However, on the other hand—Jesus actually gives into his demands, and validates and even answers Thomas’ demands. So it seems, from a fresh reading of the passage, doubts are not necessarily the enemy of faith, only if they stay in a persistent state of cynicism.

In fact, they may actually boost a faith/trust paradigm. How does Thomas respond after Jesus shows him the evidence? All the gospels have Jesus trying to show others who he really is, but the one person who confesses Jesus’ full nature is Thomas!  No other human being had a higher view of Jesus than Thomas. In verse 28 he says, “My Lord and My God.” This is a personal expression of intimate relationship that is accomplished through processing doubts. So use them, search them, and build off them.

Michael Keller





Rules… or Ruler…

11 01 2012

Rules. Rules. Rules.

One of the most common complaints about Christianity is that it is merely a pile of rules. These rules are sometimes ones about what you should do (ie, “read your Bible”), but more often are about what you shouldn’t do (“do not have sex… well, maybe a little after you get married… but don’t enjoy it…”). This criticism – which emerges out of many people’s experience – upsets us because these rules seem to be primarily there to exert power over people, and to steal away some of their fun.

Now, I could rail against this in a whole host of ways. Or I could also suggest that many of the rules that Christians live by are there to protect people from the un-fun consequences of a false kind of fun. And that would be true, at least for some of them. But I think there’s a better answer:

Christians don’t follow rules. They follow the One Who Rules.

Of course, I recognise that there are some – if not many – people claiming to be Christian, who most certainly do seem to follow rules. One option from that, then, is that those people are not really Christians. And, sometimes, I suggest they are not. But, sometimes (and I’d like to think most of the time) Christians are actually keeping the rules, not following them. That might seem like semantics, but it makes all the difference.

Following is a walking metaphor. It is about letting something determine where you go, letting it rule and direct you. That “something” that you’re following can be a person, or perhaps a goal. If you’re following a person – perhaps a king, or a master, or a teacher – they tell you (or show you) where you need to be going in order to follow them, and out of that emerge your “rules”. You then have two potential pitfalls: you could potentially forget about following the person, and just follow the rules in-and-of-themselves; or you could ignore the rules, as an expression of not being committed to following the person any more. But in either of these options, whether you follow the rules or you stop following them, the result is the same: you stop following the person.

Christians believe that Jesus is the King, the Master, the Teacher – and I might suggest they believe that for good reasons. And Jesus said, “Follow Me”, quite a lot. When asked what following Him would look like, Jesus boiled it down to two directions: “Love God. Love other people.” He also showed what following Him would look like, by loving God passionately, and loving people sacrificially. And then He said again, “Follow Me.” The specific examples that He either taught (ie, “don’t lie”) or did (ie, healing somebody), emerge out of loving God, and loving other people.

Jesus also emphatically criticised any people who claimed to be following God, but who were only interested in following the rules. That’s because most of the time, they were so busy following the rules that they had forgotten Who they were really meant to be following. They had forgotten Who so badly, that when He walked right up to them, and said, “Follow Me”, they didn’t even recognise Him.

Practically, what difference does this make today? Well, a good example is from World War II Germany. Those who just kept the rules and forgot Who they were following, said, “Jesus said not to lie, so when the Nazis ask us where the Jews are hiding, we have to tell them the truth.” The real followers said, “Jesus said following Him was about loving God and loving other people. So when a bunch of guys want to kill some people, we’ll lie to keep those people alive. Because letting them be killed is not loving them.” Most of the time, lying would not have been loving to God or others, and so they had kept that rule. But when it wasn’t loving to God or others, they saw the higher priority, which was following Jesus.

So Jesus isn’t asking you to follow a system, a belief, a mantra, or a set of rules. He’s saying the same thing He’s always said:

“Follow Me.”

Are you?

Matt Gray





On Missions, Missionaries, and Proselytizing

5 08 2011

Again, if God, like Jupiter in the comedy, should, on awaking from a lengthened slumber, desire to rescue the human race from evil, why did He send this Spirit of which you speak into one corner (of the earth)? He ought to have breathed it alike into many bodies, and have sent them out into all the world.[1]

The above quotation is from one of Christianity’s earliest and most stringent critics, the 2nd century philosopher named Celsus. His irritation with Christianity is more than evident here: how could such a backwater sect make claims to revelation of universal importance?  Such claims were only more audacious in Celsus’ eyes because he considered Christianity to be composed entirely of anti-intellectual simpletons who preyed on the weak.[2] I’m not sure some of Christianity’s contemporary critics have moved away this position.

In fact, the notion that one group of people can claim to be the sole possessors of an important universal truth has remained odious in the eyes of those on the outside of that group and, if anything, has only increased as our society becomes more diverse and so many religious and cultural traditions live, quite literally, side by side. How arrogant, some exclaim, does someone need to be to claim that they have the absolute truth about God and reality. Christian missionaries are regularly portrayed in a negative light, with critics pointing out the fact that cultural triumphalism and imperial motivations often accompanied European missionaries in the early modern period. Indeed, the many stories of disastrous “missions” to South and Central America that involved the Conquistadors are well known and terribly sad. One might also mention heinous acts like the forced “Christianization” (which really just meant “Westernization”) of Aboriginals in Australia or Native Americans in North America. All these things are true, and they are truly heartbreaking.

However, even when mistakes and atrocities are admitted and we Christians backpedal as fast as possible from arrogant presentations of our religious views, it remains the case that Christianity is, at its root, a missionary religion. In Matthew 28:19-20, Jesus says to his disciples “Go and make disciples of all nations.” The earliest Christian writings that we have come from a pioneering missionary and pastor, Paul the Apostle. Within about 300 years or so of its founding, Christianity spread from provincial Judaea to become the national religion of Rome, the world power at the time, thanks to a controversial move by Emperor Constantine. It soon spread from Rome to the various tribal groups in Western Europe and, by the time Islam arose in the 7th century, Christianity stretched from Ireland, down into Africa, to the Arabian Peninsula and beyond.

In more recent times, some Christian groups have tried to formulate a more nuanced and charitable position towards other religious views. For example, some propose the idea that people might be “Christians” without really knowing it.[3] Such efforts at charitable inter-religious dialogue are a relatively recent phenomenon, though I certainly think they are good. However, as offensive as it might seem to those who are not Christians, it remains the case that Christianity proclaims that there was a certain Jewish man named Jesus who was more than he seemed: he was the one God himself who condescended to become human with us in order to save us from ourselves, death, and destruction. It declares that God is the only living and true God [4] and that being “in Christ” is the only way to be reconciled with God in spite of our sinful nature.[5]

Be that as it may, to anyone reading this who are not Christians, please know that even if you find it absurd that some person you meet tries to share their Christian beliefs with you, it is done because they care about you.[6] As comedian Penn Jillette, an avowed atheist, asked, “how much do you have hate somebody to believe that everlasting life is possible, and not tell them that.” If anything, take your friend’s proselytizing efforts as a sign of affection, they love you enough to share the source of all love with you.

Ben Edsall
________________________
[1] Quoted by Origen in Contra Celsum 6.78. A handy set of excerpts containing Celsus’ comments can be found here.
[2] See Origen’s Contra Celsum 3.44, 55, 59, etc.
[3] This has cropped up, for example, is such different places as the (Catholic) Vatican II council and in (Protestant) C.S. Lewis’ Narnia series.
[4] See for example 1 Thessalonians 1:9-10.
[5] See John 15:1-5. Of course, this blog post is a highly compressed account and precisely what it means to be “in Christ” is difficult to define.
[6] I admit that sometimes this is not the case and that people present Christianity in order to bolster their own pride or feel good about themselves. I don’t condone this but I prefer to give people the benefit of the doubt, hence my positive account here.





An Invitation

11 03 2011

I want to invite you to reconsider Christianity.  Let me explain…

Over the last few weeks there has been an explosive controversy in many Christian circles in North America over a book.  Certainly, this is not the first time such a boiling controversy has taken place. (Heck, the only reason I started reading the Harry Potter books is because someone told me they were dangerous and evil. Turns out they’re delightful.) This time the controversy is about Rob Bell’s next book, Love Wins, which revists some traditional doctrines of salvation, heaven and hell.

However, unlike some previously controversial books like The Da Vinci Code, the book in question has been written by one who self-identifies as a Christian and happens to be an influential pastor. He has been denounced and dismissed by major evangelical leaders in North America and for about a week blogs and twitter were on fire with discussions of the merits or problems of the book. An accessible New York Times article explains the controversy, and it was featured also in CNN’s Belief blog.

But here’s what is particularly striking about all this: no one has read it yet.  Because it hasn’t yet been published. Sure, a few people have seen some advance chapters and there is a promotional video but, still, no one has read it. Before moving on, I should note that I haven’t read the book either so I don’t know if in the end I will agree with it or not…but getting mad before the conversation starts won’t allow me to hear what this person has to say in the first place.

Nevertheless, this author has been accused of a variety of things like being a “universalist,” and “unbiblical” and it seems that people are drawing boundary lines left and right.  These knee-jerk reactions, at least to my mind, are unhelpful and reveal just how narrow many people’s understanding of Christianity really is. It is amazing to me that people will hold so tenaciously to their own particular Christian tradition of understanding that when they encounter ideas that fall outside it they are viewed as non-Christian or threatening. The truth is that Christian “tradition” is a much wider river than many people are willing to acknowledge they are swimming in.

Are you a mystic?  Try reading John’s gospel, the book of Ephesians, Julian of Norwich,  Meister Eckhart or Bernard of Clairvaux’s commentary on the Song of Solomon.  Are you concerned with social justice?  Try Isaiah, Jeremiah, Malachi, Luke’s gospel, John Chrysostom, Martin Luther King Jr., or Mother Theresa.  Do you have a penchant for ritual and structure? Look at the book of Hebrews, the Didache, the letters of Ignatius of Antioch, and large portions of the Orthodox and Catholic traditions.  Are you philosophically minded?  So were Paul, Irenaeus, Justin Martyr, Gregory of Nyssa, Thomas Aquinas, and Alvin Plantinga (to name a few).  Do you have existentialist leanings?  Try Kierkegaard, Dostoyevsky and maybe even Augustine.  Do you struggle with the concept of hell?  So did the early Christian writers Origen and Evagrius (among others up to the present).  Are you a pacifist?  So was Menno Simons…and Jesus.

All of these writers and thinkers considered themselves Christians. All of them were “biblical” insofar as they read the Bible and used it as the foundation for their theology, philosophy and lives. All of them came to different conclusions on many issues. Ernst Käsemann, a respected German New Testament scholar from the 20th century, actually argued that the diversity of Christianity, rather than a monolithic Christianity, is founded in the diversity of the New Testament itself.

So here is my two-part invitation:
(1) If you are reading this and are not a Christian, I invite you to reconsider your definition of Christianity.  Have you had negative experiences with a group of Christians that left a bad taste in your mouth?  So have I…but Christianity is a wide and deep river or, to switch to a biblical metaphor, a large and diverse body.  It might help to remember that any Christian or Christian group is only one part while the head will always remain Jesus Christ.
(2) If you are reading this and are a Christian, I invite you to reconsider the way you define Christianity. Do you really, deep down, consider only your set of beliefs to be Christian or “biblical”?  You’re probably wrong.

Ben Edsall





Who Has Truth?

9 02 2011

Truth: who has it?  Anyone with a basic philosophical awareness realizes that this question is not a simple one.  How is “truth” to be defined?  In what sense can a person (or group) have it?  In my less guarded moments, I’m tempted to answer, “I have it, just ask me,” but that is, of course, ridiculous.  I am a finite person whose grasp on truth (however defined) is tenuous at best.  Just ask my wife.

Now, I know that this blog doesn’t really major in current events, but if I could, I’d like to reflect again on the current uproar in Egypt.  Unless you have been living under a rock, you have probably been reading about the economic and political turmoil in Egypt, about the recent church bombings there, about the call for President Mubarak to step down, etc.  With all that ringing in my ears, a friend pointed me to a remarkable picture of a group of Christians protecting Muslims while they prayed during the protests.

This is a beautiful example of people reaching across religious and social boundaries to help others.  It is especially poignant given the often violent disagreements between these two groups in a variety of other contexts.  It is important to note that the Christians did not demand a mass conversion or renunciation of Islam before protecting their fellow protesters and that, when the protests are all said and done, there remain real theological, ethical, political, social, etc. differences between these two groups. However, what actions such as this do is open the opportunity for dialogue.

Inter-religious dialogue is fraught with difficulty. (Actually, dialogue between any two people who disagree strongly about any subject is difficult, but religion is on the agenda today.) If one believes in a single God who is the creator and ruler of all that is and who is to be worshiped in a particular way (however that may be defined), it isn’t really a viable option to “agree to disagree” and leave it at that. To attempt such a solution is to ignore the totalizing claim of such theological convictions. While the conversation may end amicably with each party still disagreeing, the dialogue cannot be over.  The question remains, who has the truth?

One of the beautiful aspects of Christianity, at least in my mind, is that while it does claim a monopoly on Truth (note the capital “T”), it never claims one for truth (with the little “t”). That is, the presence of God with us in the person of Jesus, who died, was raised and was glorified and who is the mediator between God and his people through a new covenant (to put it in one sentence) is Christianity’s totalizing claim for “T”ruth. But, this same God also created the world and all who live in it. All humanity is made in his image and thus shares some portion of his likeness.

It is a striking feature, long noted by biblical scholars, that both the Old Testament and the New Testament “borrow” things from sources outside their religious tradition. There is a good case to be made that a large chunk of proverbs (in the book of the same title) was drawn from Egyptian wisdom literature. In the New Testament, there are striking affinities between the thought of Paul and his Stoic contemporaries. Indeed, in the book of Acts he is portrayed as citing a Greek poet (Acts 17:28). Heck, even Jesus, who is himself the way, Truth and life borrowed images and language from his environment. (Incidentally, he was also well known for having conversations with those who were from the other side of the tracks.) Some of this, to be sure, can be chalked up to the fact that all people absorb elements from their environment to varying extents. But, while Christianity claims the ultimate truth about God, it never argues that others from other religious (or philosophical, or political, or sports) groups can’t say true things.  Of course, determining whether or not the thing said is true is a problem in itself…more the matter for a philosophical treatise than a blog entry. Nevertheless, God’s universal love for his creation provides this space for dialogue between disagreeing parties. One can genuinely learn from the “other” in dialogue and dialogue provides space for loving action. Love begets dialogue, which begets love et cetera.

Ben Edsall





Public Sphere Faith

22 12 2010

For us the activity of worship has become a private affair. Even some agnostics don’t seem to mind that people go about their Sunday mornings engaged in acts of worship, as it occurs comfortably behind closed doors. Occasionally religion spills out into the public space as, in the example of some Christians who fight to keep public monuments of religious significance (the ten commandments, or statues of the cross) in the public space (a courthouse, city center, etc.) in America, or Muslims women who strive to wear the burqa in France. We tend to agree with this relegation of the religious to the private sphere, and often acknowledge it in practice, going about our daily work with only perhaps a furtive prayer or generic expression of virtue, but nothing so peculiar as to strike a secular co-worker as an explicitly religious expression.

This division of life into two spheres: public and private, and the further relegation of the religious life to the private sphere has roots in various thinkers and writers across the modern period, but this is a division that is ultimately incompatible from a Christian point of view. Christian worship is, as one theologian (Bernd Wannenwetsch of Oxford University) has recently put it, a Political act: to acknowledge God as the one creator and ruler over everything relativizes every human form of government, and has profound ethical implications in every sphere of life. This fact was perhaps more obvious in the early church as there was a well-worn precedent for “private” religious worship. Rome was relatively (though not always) tolerant of religious diversity in its empire, provided that worship was relegated to the private space. As long as one’s personal religion remained private, the public space was open for some occasional deference to imperial religion and the state gods which was required for citizenship.

What was remarkable about early Christians is that they refused what was an otherwise comfortable settlement for many other cults of the day. They recognized that the sort of worship that their relationship with the Creator invited them to participate in was wholly encompassing, and as a result, as Wannenwesch puts it, “martyrdom was inevitable, since the ekklesia [church or 'Christian community'] was bound from the beginning to celebrate ‘political worship’. (148)” Their worship of Jesus blocked their worship of the emperor and the gods, and martyred they were.

There is a sense in which contemporary Christian worship today does not always express the fullness of this reality, but at some point it becomes inevitable. The God we celebrate in this advent season as being incarnate in the person of Jesus Christ, does not desire a convenient sort of settled relationship, the sort of tepid hug you share with a distant acquaintance. Rather, we are invited into a relationship best represented by a full-on embrace. We are given the gift of life with all its fullness, and this gift is best affirmed by a whole-hearted worship which does not fail to shape all the other dimensions of our lives, private and public. Christian faith transgresses and subverts these boundaries, and invites us away from lifestyles of fragmentation (themselves inherently characterized by brokenness)  but rather to a daily experience of wholeness.

Jeremy Kidwell

 

Note: For a more detailed version of this account, check out Bernd’s book: Political Worship. I’ve drawn here on content from chapter 6, “the surmounting of political antinomies.” Fair warning, this is a challenging (but rewarding) read!





Dinner Party Grace

3 12 2010

The last time I wrote, I mentioned ‘the three things’ one should never bring up at a dinner party: sex, religion, and politics. Sex was on the menu last time. Religion is today’s special.

Far from being ‘dead’, as Nietzsche once quipped, it seems that God is very much alive when it comes to the media, the web, and yes, even our dinner party conversation. Whether or not people believe in God, they usually have something to say on the subject of religion. But sadly, what people say—in particular, what they have to say about Christians and Christianity—is not always positive. In a recent sermon, I asked the congregation to reflect on the surrounding culture’s perception of Christians. At best, I suspect that most of us can amass mixed reviews; at worse, largely poor ones. I don’t think this has much to do with the hugely positive contributions Christianity has made to society through the ages.

If anything, it probably has more to do with what individual Christians say and do on a daily basis. And, of course, what they’re quoted as saying and doing in the media. All it takes is one extremist to make many people suspicious of all Muslims. And all it takes is one loveless Christian to make many people suspicious of the entire Christian faith. Whether we like it or not, what we say and do as individual believers has a major impact on what people think Christians are like collectively and what they think Christianity is like as a religion. This includes what we say when we talk about things other than religion, what we say when we talk about art, and film, and sport and music, and other subjects in the usually acceptable dinner party repartee.

Perhaps the reason why religion has been nominally banished from the dinner party is because religious discussion can so easily become heated and divisive. Ignorance is misinterpreted as opposition, and proponents of different views either attack or go on the defensive. Yet Jesus dined in a variety of places: private homes, brothels, public squares. For someone who was extremely forthright when it came to ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ in matters of religion, I wonder how he amassed so many friends among ‘sinners.’ Could it be because he was just as engaging when he chatted about the day’s fishing as he was when talking about spiritual things? Perhaps he also knew when to stop talking and just listen?

So how does one hold and profess religious faith and keep the peace at a dinner party? At some level it must be because our speech and actions positively reflect the deeper religious truths we believe in. On another level, it must also be because we speak well about film and football. And on yet another level, it must be because our ears are as sensitive as our mouths. We should pray and love and help others as Jesus did, for sure, but maybe we could also learn to dine as he did, and be as gracious as he was over wine, candles and warm food.

Madi Simpson








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