Exclamation Point, One

New Kid in Town

2012-02-12T12:31:00.000-08:00

Last time, Jesus told his disciples that you can either have a bunch of stuff, or you can follow him. He ended by explaining that in the kingdom of heaven, things are the opposite of the way they are here. That which is most important in this world, will be of the least value in the next world. And vice-versa. And the same goes for people.

To illustrate his point, Jesus tells another parable:

"'The kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out early in the morning to hire workers for his vineyard. He agreed to pay them a denarius [a standard daily wage] for the day and sent them out into his vineyard.

"'About nine in the morning he went out and saw others standing in the marketplace doing nothing. He told them, "You also go and work in my vineyard, and I will pay you whatever is right." So they went.

"'He went out again about noon and about three in the afternoon and did the same thing. About five in the afternoon he went out and found still others standing around. He asked them, "Why have you been standing here all day long doing nothing?" "Because no one has hired us," they answered. He said to them, "You also go and work in my vineyard."'"

Okay. By now we're familiar with the analogy being made here. The landowner in Jesus' story is meant to represent God. He reveals himself to humanity and makes them an offer: "come work for me and I'll pay you." In other words, be part of the "chosen people." Sign a contract with God, and as long as you do what he wants, you'll get rewarded for your efforts.

In Jesus' story, the landowner keeps hiring workers throughout the day. Even at five o'clock in the afternoon, he's still bringing people in to work. Which is meant to represent God's continual revelation of himself to humanity over time. More and more people find out about him and decide to follow him. Though I suppose this analogy only holds if you think of people in a collective sense. Individually, anyone who "goes to work" for God would have the same experience, no matter whether it happened in 1500 B.C. or 30 A.D.

So what happens at the end of the work day?

"'When evening came, the owner of the vineyard said to his foreman, "Call the workers and pay them their wages, beginning with the last ones hired and going on to the first."

"'The workers who were hired about five in the afternoon came and each received a denarius. So when those came who were hired first, they expected to receive more. But each one of them also received a denarius. When they received it, they began to grumble against the landowner. "These who were hired last worked only one hour," they said, "and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the work and the heat of the day."'"

I suppose this is a rather literal way to explain "the first will be last." The landowner pays the people who have done the least amount of work first, and those who have been there since the early morning are paid last. But is that all it means?

It looks like there's more to it than that. Because it turns out that the landowner pays everyone the same amount of money, regardless of what time of day they started working. Now, they're all getting "one denarius," which is the amount of money a day laborer should expect to make, so it's not like anybody's being cheated, technically speaking.

But that doesn't stop it from feeling like bullshit (or communism) to the workers who have been there for twelve hours. The landowner is making no distinction based on effort or length of service. Everyone receives the same pay.

This is the landowner's response to the disgruntled workers:

"'But he answered one of [the workers], "I am not being unfair to you, friend. Didn't you agree to work for a denarius? Take your pay and go. I want to give the one who was hired last the same as I gave you. Don't I have the right to do what I want with my own money? Or are you envious because I am generous?"'"

Well, it would have been nice to know about this beforehand! The people who went to work at 6 AM must be feeling like suckers now. They could have just waited until 5 PM, worked for an hour, and gotten a full day's wage.

But Jesus acts as though he's just proven his point. "So the last will be first, and the first will be last." Oh, well that explains everything, Jesus. It's all so clear now!

Is this what the kingdom of heaven is really like? Everyone gets the same reward, no matter how much effort they've expended? Didn't Jesus just say that rich people can't get into heaven and you basically have to forsake your old life in order to walk his path? That doesn't sound like a little effort. That sounds like a lot. It sounds like a huge life commitment. But now Jesus is telling us that everyone gets "paid" the same, no matter what?

The only way this analogy makes sense is if you think of people in a collective sense, as I mentioned above. The workers who have been there since the early morning would be the ancient Israelites, like Moses and those people. And on the other end of the spectrum, you have the workers who showed up at the end of the day—the people who are turning to God because of Jesus' ministry.

But if that's what this means, then the only takeaway would be "Jewish people will complain about non-Jewish people getting in on their action." In other words, the Jews followed God before it was cool. And now there's all these newcomers hopping on the bandwagon. Okay, but is that really something to make a parable about?

Stepping back for a moment, we need to remember that the book of Matthew was written about 40 years after Jesus preached about the kingdom of heaven. By that point, tensions between Jewish Christians and non-Jewish Christians would have emerged. Not to mention tensions between Jewish Christians and regular Jewish people. And this parable tells everyone "hey, relax—it might not seem fair, but God is generous and wants to give everyone the same gift, even Johnny-come-latelys."

Which might seem a petty thing to argue over. But if your religious identity is based on being God's "chosen people," then you're going to want to make sure that that continues to mean something. If they'll just let anyone in, then what does it mean to be "chosen" by God? Does that phrase still have value?

As we'll eventually see, sorting out these issues consumed a lot of time and energy in the early church. (The final answer seems to have been "the Christian church will end up being non-Jewish anyway, so screw it.") So while this may seem strange to us, it was a big deal at the time. Though I suppose we've never stopped engaging in religious territory-marking.

I need to stop here for now, but I'll pick it up later with the mother of two of Jesus' disciples asking that they be given special places in the kingdom of heaven.

Next time: Do you really want to be first in the kingdom of heaven? Think carefully.

Give It Away Now

2012-02-05T08:52:00.000-08:00

Last time, Jesus talked about divorce, adultery and remarriage. And testicles. Now we're going to find out that none of us will get into heaven.

But before we get to that:

"Then people brought little children to Jesus for him to place his hands on them and pray for them. But the disciples rebuked them. Jesus said, 'Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.' When he had placed his hands on them, he went on from there."

Jesus had just spoken about the importance of becoming like "little children" in order to enter the kingdom of heaven. But he was speaking metaphorically then. Or maybe he still is now? I'm not sure if Jesus actually likes kids, or if he just likes his metaphor.

Now we get to the good part:

"Just then a man came up to Jesus and asked, 'Teacher, what good thing must I do to get eternal life?'"

I'm glad that somebody asked Jesus this question directly. It can get a bit confusing sometimes in the midst of all these sermons and wacky anecdotes, if you're just trying to get to the bottom line. How do I get into heaven, Jesus?

"'Why do you ask me about what is good?' Jesus replied. 'There is only One who is good. If you want to enter life, keep the commandments.'"

Interestingly, Jesus makes a distinction between himself and God that his followers would later ignore or erase. "There is only one who is good." But okay, we're supposed to follow God's commandments. I guess that would make sense. But there are a lot of commandments in the law of Moses. Does Jesus mean all of them? Or just some? The man asks the question for us:

"'Which ones?' he inquired. Jesus replied, '"You shall not murder, you shall not commit adultery, you shall not steal, you shall not give false testimony, honor your father and mother," and "love your neighbor as yourself."'"

Jesus starts by rattling off five of the Ten Commandments, but then includes part of a verse from a later point in the law of Moses. Here it is in full:

"Do not seek revenge or bear a grudge against anyone among your people, but love your neighbor as yourself." (Leviticus 19:18)

That sounds like the kind of thing Jesus would say. So I guess it makes sense that he would reference that particular verse. Though there's still a lot that Jesus leaves out. (Such as the other five of the "Ten" commandments.)

"'All these I have kept,' the young man said. 'What do I still lack?'"

Dude, shut up. You never ask Jesus a follow-up question. He should have just left it at "awesome, I'm following all the commandments!" and gone on his merry way. But no, he had to ask Jesus if there was anything else he needed to do. Maybe this man was feeling that there must be something more to it all than just being a nice guy?

Here's what Jesus has to say:

"'If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.'"

Shit.

"When the young man heard this, he went away sad, because he had great wealth."

Oh, the rationalizations I have heard about this verse. "That man was addicted to money." "Wealth was his idol." "He was rich; I'm not rich." Anything that would exempt us from the very unsettling implications of what Jesus is saying.

Because what Jesus isn't saying is "you have too much stuff." We already understand income disparity. Having lots of stuff while others die of hunger feels wrong to us, when we think about it. (Though not wrong enough that we would sacrifice our own standard of living for theirs.) But if everyone were doing as well as us, we wouldn't feel bad about the things we own. However, Jesus isn't talking about redistribution of wealth.

What Jesus is saying is that there is something inherently destructive—on a spiritual level—about material possessions. Which is why Jesus counseled this man to give it all away, so that he might have "treasure in heaven." Spiritual wealth, in other words.

And that's different. We can shrug off a religious guilt trip about "giving everything we have to the poor" because we live in a country with a high standard of living, and it takes more to get by here than in some third-world country. We have to survive too, right?

But what if the things we own are poisoning us? Keeping us away from God? And ultimately (to get back to the question initially asked of Jesus) keeping us away from heaven? Is that what Jesus means?

"Then Jesus said to his disciples, 'Truly I tell you, it is hard for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of heaven. Again I tell you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.'"

Again, Jesus' focus isn't on the poor, or the moral necessity of charitable giving. He's just saying that it's hard for rich people to meet his requirements. Why? Because rich people get to be rich by storing up wealth, not by giving it away. And "giving it away" (as in, giving it all away) is what Jesus asks of anyone who would follow him. If you can't do that, then you can't follow Jesus. (Remember that Jesus told the man to sell his possessions first, then to come follow him.)

Despite this, our natural inclination is still to ask ourselves if we truly qualify as "rich", with the intent to somehow exempt ourselves. Maybe we have too much credit card debt. Maybe we're having trouble paying our bills. Shoot, maybe we're out of work. Are we really rich, in any meaningful sense of the word?

It doesn't really matter whether we are or not, though. Jesus is simply saying to get rid of it all. Just get rid of it. And yeah, this pretty much means "live like a monk". Not that we should stay isolated from the rest of the world, but that we should be disconnected from the pursuit of material wealth. Because whether or not we have been successful at it, we are all engaged in that pursuit. Our current financial condition is not the point; our priorities are the point.

Well. Jesus' disciples react much as we would:

"When the disciples heard this, they were greatly astonished and asked, 'Who then can be saved?' Jesus looked at them and said, 'With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.'"

So what does that mean? Are we incapable of doing what Jesus asks? Is God going to help us? Or is Jesus saying that God can find a way to save us, despite our materialism which is preventing us from following Jesus in the first place? (I've actually heard that last one before.)

I'm guessing that Jesus is acknowledging the difficulty of this requirement. But there is precedent—people who have successfully given up their possessions for Jesus. Namely, his disciples. Which Peter is quick to point out:

"Peter answered [Jesus], 'We have left everything to follow you! What then will there be for us?'"

This is a fair question, since (as Peter mentions) Jesus' disciples have given up a lot more than just their wealth (such as it was). They've completely abandoned their old lives to follow Jesus. It had better be worth it!

"Jesus said to him, 'Truly I tell you, at the renewal of all things, when the Son of Man sits on his glorious throne, you who have followed me will also sit on twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel. And everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or wife or children or fields for my sake will receive a hundred times as much and will inherit eternal life. But many who are first will be last, and many who are last will be first.'"

Um, hang on a minute. I get the spiritual benefit of ridding ourselves of materialism, but leaving family? Including your spouse and kids? That seems really excessive. Like, weirdly excessive. (Even the Bible has a problem with this, as some manuscripts of this passage omit "or wife".)

But let's face it. Practically speaking, how are you going to live like a monk with a wife and kids in tow? You have to provide for your family somehow. It's one thing to be some wandering religious guy, living on the goodwill of others. But you don't do that once you've settled down. There's a reason why monks are supposed to be celibate. These are two different worlds, and they don't mix well.

So is that what Jesus' disciples have done? Abandoned their families and homes and livelihoods, all to follow Jesus? Yes, that is what they've done.

Then the question becomes, is that what we are meant to do? And what would that look like? "Following" was something that Jesus' disciples did literally. They walked around with him and learned from him. What would we do today? Jesus isn't physically here to be followed. How would you explain to your family that you're leaving them, along with everything you own, so that you can "follow Jesus"? Where is he taking you? What will you do when you get there?

It's all very bizarre and cult-like, when you get right down to it. Except that the leader of this cult is invisible, and presumably communicates with his followers in a way that only they can understand. And the only reward is a promise of future glory after you die.

How did this religion ever catch on?

Next time: Being first (and last) in heaven!

Independence Day

2012-01-29T09:56:00.000-08:00

Last time, Jesus explained why it's important for Christians to forgive others: if they don't, God will send them to hell! Let's just forget he ever said that, and move on.

Now Jesus talks about divorce! Again? Yeah. Let's recap:

"I tell you that anyone who who divorces his wife, except for sexual immorality, makes her the victim of adultery, and anyone who marries a divorced woman commits adultery."

That's what Jesus had to say about divorce, back in Matthew chapter 5. The short version would be "your marriage is binding". Adultery is the only thing that can break that bond. Which is kind of weird, if you think about it. That basically implies that sex is what makes marriage "marriage", not anything else like a commitment or decision of the will, etc. I suppose they took things more literally back then... you know what? Never mind.

"Some Pharisees came to [Jesus] to test him. They asked, 'Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife for any and every reason?'"

The Pharisees were the religious experts (and watchdogs) of Jesus' day. They don't trust Jesus or his agenda, as you can tell from their loaded question. "Can you divorce your wife for any reason at all?" They think that Jesus is advocating a loosening of the rules, and are looking for a "gotcha" moment to expose his liberal theology.

(By the way, in case you're waiting for things to get more gender-inclusive, you're out of luck. This is all told from a male perspective.)

Here is Jesus' response:

"'Haven't you read that at the beginning the Creator "made them male and female," and said, "For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh"? So they are no longer two, but one flesh. Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.'"

Jesus, seeing where this is going, gives a more theologically conservative answer than the Pharisees would have. And he even quotes the book of Genesis to back himself up. "Nobody should get divorced, because God's intent is that people should stay married for life."

This puts the Pharisees in a slightly awkward position, because Jewish law does in fact allow for divorce. So now they're like "huh? what" and ask Jesus a sincere question:

"'Why then did Moses command that a man give his wife a certificate of divorce and send her away?'"

This is what's written in the Law of Moses. As in, the stone tablets Moses brought down from Mount Sinai. The official laws given to the ancient Israelites by God himself. So what's up?

Jesus replies:

"'Moses permitted you to divorce your wives because your hearts were hard. But it was not this way from the beginning. I tell you that anyone who divorces his wife, except for sexual immorality, and marries another woman commits adultery.'"

Hmm. Do you think that maybe the Pharisees were trying to defend their ability to divorce their wives whenever they felt like it? Maybe I've read this wrong.

But here's the interesting part to me: "Moses permitted you to divorce your wives because your hearts were hard." God handed down this law not to reflect his intent or desire for humanity, but because of human stubbornness? He just threw his hands up in the air and said, "forget it, they're never going to follow this!" and let them do whatever they want? How is that at all characteristic of the God we've read about in the Bible?

But this is Jesus' only option, if he's going to defend his "no divorce except for adultery" position. Rather than admit that he's overreaching, Jesus says that Moses (and by extension, God) was compromising. Because Jesus is staking out a more conservative position than required by Jewish law, which would ironically make him guilty of the same crime of Biblical embellishment that he has been accusing the Pharisees of.

Shit. I just realized that that's exactly what Jesus has been doing the whole time. He ripped the Pharisees for adding "rules taught by men" to the Jewish law, while himself telling everyone "you have to follow the law plus everything I'm saying". The law says "don't murder"; Jesus says "also, don't get angry". The law says "don't commit adultery"; Jesus says "also, don't look at women lustfully". That's no different from saying "don't eat dairy and meat together" because Jewish law forbids boiling a baby goat in its mother's milk.

Well, that's thrown me off. I suppose the only difference between Jesus and the Pharisees is that Jesus represents God's will and the Pharisees don't? Or do the Pharisees represent God's will? Is Jesus really a heretic? Who's right?

Since this is the New Testament, we already know the answer. This book exists to tell us about Jesus. And that's what we're going to get.

However, Jesus' position on divorce seems to be taking his disciples by surprise. Were they not listening when he said it the first time?

"The disciples said to [Jesus], 'If this is the situation between a husband and wife, it is better not to marry.'"

Clearly, Jesus has set the bar too high. "If we can't get divorced unless our wives screw around, then forget it!" Jesus replies:

"'Not everyone can accept this word, but only those to whom it has been given. For there are eunuchs who were born that way, and there are eunuchs who have been made eunuchs by others—and there are those who choose to live like eunuchs for the sake of the kingdom of heaven. The one who can accept this should accept it.'"

What? Eunuchs? Why are we talking about guys with no testicles? Three groups of them, no less. Men who were born without testicles (??), men who've had their testicles cut off (!!), and men who choose to live as if they had no testicles, "for the sake of the kingdom of heaven". As in, they stay celibate and never get married in order to avoid falling into sin.

I was mistaken when I said earlier that the Bible's view of marriage is centered around sex. It's actually centered around testicles. But what's Jesus trying to say here, anyway? He's making a weird analogy in order to tell his disciples that not everyone can live up to his rules. And if that's the case for you, then it would be better not to put yourself in a situation where you might break the rules. In other words, if you can't handle the temptation to marital infidelity, then don't get married. (It is perhaps worth noting at this point that Jesus was single.)

However, there is one fatal flaw in this proposed solution. A man could never get married and still have sex all day long with other men's wives. Or with any woman at all, I suppose. It is telling that that possibility isn't even mentioned here. I can only assume that the culture of Jesus' time was not as cool with unmarried people having sex as we are today. To the degree that it's assumed that nobody would ever do that.

Which kind of says it all, really. Because prohibiting divorce for any reason other than marital infidelity (on the part of the wife) is definitely reflective of a different time. What about women with abusive husbands? (We don't really need to get into the church's typical response to that scenario.) Or what if your spouse is just a big loser? The point is, there's a lot more to marriage than just sex. But that's the only thing that matters to Jesus. Sex makes a marriage, and sex breaks it. Period. Nothing else can legitimately come between a husband and wife.

I guess this really is all about testicles.

Next time: Rich people and poor people!

He's In The Jailhouse Now

2012-01-22T11:56:00.000-08:00

Last time, Jesus warned his disciples not to despise the "little children" (i.e. humble people of low standing) who followed him, pointing out that they are in fact the "greatest" in God's eyes. I had left off with a question about forgiveness, and now Jesus is going to explain exactly what "forgiveness" means. Get ready—it might get ugly.

"'Therefore, the kingdom of heaven is like a king who wanted to settle accounts with his servants. As he began the settlement, a man who owed him ten thousand bags of gold was brought to him. Since he was not able to pay, the master ordered that he and his wife and his children and all that he had be sold to repay the debt.'"

Thankfully, this is only the beginning of the story. But this is the situation—a servant is indebted to his king for "ten thousand bags of gold". Um, that sounds like a lot. How much money are we talking about, exactly?

In modern terms, this would come out to four billion dollars. Yes, billion. Four billion dollars. What?? How the hell—what would some servant even do with that much money? Was he planning to buy a country? Well, that's not really the point, is it? The point is to illustrate how comically huge this man's debt is. Jesus might as well have said "Let me tell you a story about a guy who owed the IRS a gazillion dollars." His audience is instinctively going to be thinking "oh man, he's fucked."

And since the servant can't pay his debt, everything he owns and everyone in his family (including himself) is going to be sold to cover the debt. Which sucks a lot. But it's not exactly unfair, is it? Well, okay; it's unfair to his family. But if you owe a shit-ton of money to the IRS, what are they going to do when you tell them you can't pay? They're going to take everything you own and throw you in jail. That's how it works.

In despair, the servant asks for more time:

"'At this the servant fell on his knees before [the king]. "Be patient with me," he begged, "and I will pay back everything."

Uh-huh. So how does the king respond?

"'The servant's master took pity on him, canceled the debt and let him go.'"

He what? He cancels the debt. Just like that. Four billion dollars! The king's act of charity is almost as ridiculous as the debt the servant owes in the first place.

Anyone who's at all familiar with Christianity should know where this is going. The king represents God, the servant represents us, and the four billion dollars represents the ridiculous gulf between the way we live and the way God expects us to live. In other words, our debt of sin.

Now, I know that "sin" is a loaded term. It immediately causes people to put their defenses up, because they think they're about to be morally judged by some pious, self-righteous douchebag. But maybe that's just me.

It's not a fun word, at any rate. It's like, "oh please, tell me what I'm doing wrong, because I need that in my life along with everything else I have to deal with."

Maybe it's just me.

But let's leave aside for now the things we normally associate with "sin". (Sex.) How about just narrowing it down to the things Jesus has been talking about? What's important to him? Not being a religious hypocrite. Treating the poor and humble with compassion. (Heck, he was just talking about that a moment ago.) Let's remember that by all accounts, Jesus was someone who walked the walk. He had no home, he had no real personal possessions, and his adult life was dedicated to helping others. That's the example that we have to follow. Are we doing that? Is anybody doing that?

Shit, I know I'm not. So: is there really a four billion dollar gulf between me and Jesus? In terms of the likelihood of me ever actually following in his footsteps... yeah, probably.

Back to the story:

"'But when that servant went out, he found one of his fellow servants who owed him a hundred silver coins. He grabbed him and began to choke him. "Pay back what you owe me!" he demanded.'"

Ah, now we're coming to it. The guy who has been forgiven a four billion dollar debt immediately starts roughing up someone who owes him—wait for it—eighty bucks. Eighty bucks! What an asshole!

"'His fellow servant fell to his knees and begged him, "Be patient with me, and I will pay it back." But he refused. Instead, he went off and had the man thrown into prison until he could pay the debt.'"

In case you missed it, this other servant says exactly the same thing that the first servant did when he was called upon to pay his debt. "Be patient with me, and I will pay it back." But the first servant says "tough shit, you owe me eighty bucks".

The other servants find out what happen and are "outraged", so they run off to tell the king. And as you might expect, he isn't happy:

"'Then the master called the servant in. "You wicked servant," he said, "I canceled all that debt of yours because you begged me to. Shouldn't you have had mercy on your fellow servant just as I had on you?" In anger his master handed him over to the jailers to be tortured, until he should pay back all he owed.'"

You know what really sucks? The servant's final condition is worse now than if he had never pleaded for mercy in the first place. Okay sure, he was going to lose everything he had, and his family was going to be sold. But that was going to be considered payment for the debt. Now he loses everything, and he's going to be tortured until he pays off the debt. All four billion dollars of it.

And here comes the punchline:

"'This is how my heavenly Father will treat each of you unless you forgive your brother or sister from your heart.'"

So let's connect the dots here. Anyone calling themselves a Christian has been forgiven an enormous, never-payable debt by God. The appropriate response would be to treat others similarly. And indeed that is what God expects. He's done you the biggest favor ever, so you've officially forfeited any right to hold it against someone if they wrong you. Like, ever again. You need to forgive the people who owe you. You need to. Because if you don't, then God will be like "well, screw you then" and toss you into his jail, where you'll be tortured until you've paid your entire debt. (I guess that's why hell is forever.)

In case you're wondering, this really fucks with Christian theology. Because Jesus is explicitly telling people that God can, and will, un-forgive you if you don't start behaving like him. And you'll be worse off than if you'd never asked for forgiveness in the first place.

Really, though? What if a Christian who doesn't act like God was never really a Christian in the first place? In other words, if they were never truly forgiven, then God wouldn't be revoking his forgiveness. And we could go on thinking that forgiveness is a once-for-all transaction that keeps you safe from hell forever.

Well, that's the thing. In this story, the servant is forgiven. That's what starts this whole thing off. His debt is canceled by the king. And not on a trial basis. It's gone. So that's not the issue. What happens is that the king changes his mind when he sees his servant acting wickedly.

He changes his mind. Does God change his mind? Can he? Well, sure he can. There's plenty of times in the Bible where we see that happen. He's all set to do something, but then something happens or someone intervenes, and he's like "okay, forget about it." But Christian theology has a real problem with this. Because it adds an enormous caveat to the "Jesus saves" mantra. "Jesus saves, unless you act like a dick in which case God will say 'meh' and kick you out."

Now, this is an important issue, so I don't want to half-ass it. Let me show you some commonly quoted Bible verses:

"God is not human, that he should lie, not a human being, that he should change his mind. Does he speak and then not act? Does he promise and not fulfill?" (Numbers 23:19)

This gets to the question of God's trustworthiness. Can we trust him? This verse says "yes". God won't lie to us. And according to Jesus, God isn't lying when he says that he expects us to follow his example. Forgiveness is still offered just as freely. All you have to do is provide some indication that the forgiveness of your debt isn't leaving you unchanged. God wants Scrooge to wake up the next morning and buy the biggest turkey in the shop for the Cratchits. It's really not much to ask, all things considered.

Another verse comes from 1 Samuel 15:29:

"He who is the Glory of Israel does not lie or change his mind; for he is not a human being, that he should change his mind."

The same sentiment is expressed here. "God doesn't lie." As it happens, this verse is about someone losing special favor that they had once received from God. Saul, the first king of Israel, had gone off the deep end and was rejected by God as king. When the prophet Samuel informed Saul of his de-coronation, Saul pleaded for another chance. But Samuel said "nope, sorry". Why? Because God had already told Saul the rules. "Obey me and you'll be blessed; disobey me and you won't be king anymore." Guess what, Saul? God wasn't kidding.

Finally, there's Malachi 3:6:

"'I the LORD do not change. So you, the descendants of Jacob, are not destroyed.'"

A typically cheery prophetic verse. God had made a promise that he would always look after the "descendants of Jacob", no matter what. Now, he had also said that he would punish the nation of Israel if they strayed from him. But always there had been a caveat that God would never completely get rid of them. Even when the Israelites were worshiping the golden calf (all the way back in the book of Exodus) and God was threatening to kill them all, His plan was to start over again with Moses. (One Israelite still counts as the "descendants of Jacob", right?)

What all of this isn't saying is "God will look the other way if you claim his forgiveness but continue to act like a dickhead." Is God some doddering old grandfather whom we can easily fool? "Oh, he won't mind." We don't think that he will care about our continuing sin—not until it gets to the point where it bothers us. Then it would probably appear on his radar. But not before.

And what this really means is that God is not the true arbiter of our conscience, but we are. Which is how it has always been. We have always been the ones to ultimately determine what matters to God and what doesn't. Which is why we hold others to far higher standards than we hold ourselves. And that's also how we're able to read verses like "take up your cross and follow me" without it making so much as a dent in us.

It might seem weird that I'm getting all "Y U NO FOLLOW JESUS?" (as my kids would say). But what I'm really saying is "hey, if you want to claim Christianity and tell others to do the same, then this is what it means." But if the church is making no serious effort to follow Jesus (or to preach the admittedly unpalatable message of abandonment of materialism and selfless service to others), then why should anybody pay attention to them?

Next time: Divorce!

Hell Is For Children

2012-01-15T10:14:00.000-08:00

Last time, Jesus told his followers that they were exempt from paying the temple tax, because they're "children of the king" and not mere subjects. Which leads to a question:

"Who, then, is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?"

Jesus, presumably being in a crowd of people at this time, calls a little child up to him.

"Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me."

So what does that mean? Becoming like little children? Presumably Jesus isn't talking about intelligence or maturity. To us, "becoming like little children" might mean something like "recapturing your innocence," because that's a commonly referenced characteristic of childhood in our culture. So maybe Jesus means that we should stop being cynical and grumpy?

Well, actually Jesus explains what he means as he says it. His culture didn't have the rosy view of childhood that ours does. Back then, children were simply the least significant people around. The least powerful or influential. So Jesus is saying "humble yourselves". Rid yourselves of status and self-importance. Put yourself at the bottom of the totem pole.

And that's how you get to be the "greatest" in the kingdom of heaven—by being the "least" on earth. However, it's unclear from what Jesus is saying whether this type of humility will make you the best Christian, or if it's an entrance requirement. Unless we humble ourselves, we'll never make it. But if we do, we'll be the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. So is everyone in the kingdom of heaven the "greatest"? Well, either way it's important.

In fact, people like this will so reflect the values and priorities of Jesus that welcoming one of them will be the same as welcoming Jesus himself. Jesus elaborates on this in pretty stark terms:

"If anyone causes one of these little ones—those who believe in me—to stumble, it would be better for them to have a large millstone hung around their neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea."

Well all right then. Be nice to the humble people. Don't cause them to "stumble". Which means what, exactly? Stumble physically, like kicking them in the ass? Or is this meant to be "stumbling" on a spiritual level? That's what I had always heard it as. Causing someone to stumble was understood to be acting in a manner that caused otherwise humble and faithful followers of Jesus to lose their way. Which on a practical level meant "don't drink in public" if you were a church ministry leader, because some naive young Christian might look at you drinking and think to themselves "but I thought they loved Jesus!" and turn away from their faith in discouragement.

I always thought that the drinking thing was pretty dumb. But I can definitely understand the larger idea. Hell, a fair amount of my faith-losing came as a direct result of observing Jesus followers being non-Jesusy and deciding that I wanted nothing to do with any of it. After a point it just wasn't worth it to me anymore. If being a Christian meant that I had to be like these people, then no thanks.

But is that even what Jesus is talking about? It seems to me that he's warning people against treating "lowly" Christians the way they might normally treat such people. As in, ignoring or mistreating them. What do you do when you pass a homeless person on the street? Yeah. You get the idea.

I think this is why Jesus makes a point of identifying himself with these "little children". In case his followers can't be motivated by their own internal goodness toward others, they can certainly be motivated by a fear of offending Jesus.

But now Jesus starts riffing for a while on the subject of "stumbling":

"Woe to the world because of the things that cause people to stumble! Such things must come, but woe to the person through whom they come!"

I hope that Jesus doesn't mean "must" in a "God has preordained" this sense. Like, "this evil thing has to happen, but the person responsible for making it happen is screwed." Well that doesn't seem very fair. Plus, if bad things "must" happen, then really God's the one making them happen, right? Nobody else is saying that it has to be this way.

Anyway, there's more:

"If your hand or your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off and throw it away. It is better for you to enter life maimed or crippled than to have two hands or two feet and be thrown into eternal fire. And if your eye causes you to stumble, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to enter life with one eye than to have two eyes and be thrown into the fire of hell."

I'd think that having one eye and one foot would make you stumble a lot more often. But okay, I get what Jesus means. Because he's already said this before. Back in Matthew 5 (in the "Sermon on the Mount"), Jesus talked about the importance of purging yourself of things that will keep you from following God. I'm not sure why Jesus is bringing this up again now. Perhaps Matthew was arranging Jesus' sayings by category, and both this and the last bit were about "stumbling". But Jesus was just talking about not mistreating humble Christians, not personal purity. But whatever. He eventually comes back to the main point:

"See that you do not despise one of these little ones. For I tell you that their angels in heaven always see the face of my Father in heaven."

I'm not sure of the specific significance of the angels thing, but the basic idea is "these people are important to God, so don't screw them over."

And to further illustrate the point, Jesus offers another parable:

"What do you think? If a man owns a hundred sheep, and one of them wanders away, will he not leave the ninety-nine on the hills and go to look for the one that wandered off? And if he finds it, truly I tell you, he is happier about that one sheep than about the ninety-nine that did not wander off. In the same way your Father in heaven is not willing that any of these little ones should perish."

I wish I could say that this described the church. Unfortunately, it's pretty much the exact opposite. Stragglers are quickly ignored and/or forgotten, and the focus remains on the "ninety-nine" who never went anywhere. This is just human nature, so I understand how it happens. But what I don't understand is the claim that the church is somehow representative of something different from "human nature". Especially when Jesus so explicitly commands his followers to look after those who would naturally be overlooked.

But wait! There's an out. Jesus now abruptly changes subjects to "how to deal with sin in the church":

"If your brother [or sister] sins, go and point out their fault, just between the two of you. If they listen to you, you have won them over. But if they will not listen, take one or two others along, so that 'every matter may be established by the testimony of two or three witnesses.' If they still refuse to listen, tell it to the church, and if they refuse to listen even to the church, treat them as you would a pagan or a tax collector."

This might not stand out as weird, but Jesus is talking about the "church" in a way that he really shouldn't be at this point. Because the church doesn't exist yet. This is the kind of thing that you would expect to find in one of the later books of the New Testament, which mostly deal with church issues. But as with every other "why is this here?" passage, the fact remains that the passage is here, and Christians take it as authoritative, so it doesn't really matter on a practical level where it came from.

The really out-of-character part to me is the end, however. "Treat them as you would a pagan or a tax collector." Really, Jesus? Because you've been spending a lot of time telling us how the insiders are rotten and the outsiders often have a better shot of getting right with God. Are we back to being xenophobic now? Again, that's more reflective of the later church than Jesus' own perspective.

At any rate, Jesus has just given Christians an excuse for ignoring wandering sheep. Just call them sinners, and you're automatically exempted from having to give a shit about what happens to them. It's self-justifying on multiple levels, and enables the church to go about its business while completely ignoring everything Jesus has just said about "despising little ones".

And just to make sure that the church never feels any regrets at all:

"Truly I tell you, whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven."

In other words, the church's decisions are spiritually binding. Suck it, wandering sheep!

Jesus finishes up with another tangentially related anecdote (I think Matthew must have been having an off day when he put this chapter together):

"Again, truly I tell you that if two of you on earth agree about anything they ask for, it will be done by them by my Father in heaven. For where two or three gather in my name, there I am with them."

Anything. If two (or three? why mention three?) followers of Jesus get together "in his name" and pray for something, it will happen. Period.

Really? No matter the request? What if two (or three) Christians ask for a yacht? Or a million dollars? Or for someone to be elected president? What if two Christians want their favorite team to win, and two other Christians want the other team to win? How does that work? Does God flip a coin in case of a tie? Either way, one group of Christians is getting their request denied. Which means that what Jesus just said can't be true.

But then, "intercessory prayer" (or really, just "prayer" in general) has always been one of the iffiest subjects in the Bible, in terms of something you can take from its pages and apply to real life. It's all fine and good to say that God is out there somewhere and that he made everything, and even that Jesus was his representative on earth. But when you start making claims about God interacting with people in real, tangible ways, then you have to start providing some real, tangible evidence. (Not just "God healed my cold" when you were going to get over it in a week anyway.) And it's also helpful not to make self-contradictory statements while trying to explain how it all works.

Getting back to the narrative: Peter now asks Jesus how many times Christians should forgive fellow believers who sin against them. (Perhaps he's worried about the "three strikes and you're out" rule that Jesus just created?)

"'Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother [or sister] who sins against me? Up to seven times?' Jesus answered, 'I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.'"

In other words, "a lot". But wait—how does this make sense? Jesus did just lay down a "three strikes" rule. So which is it? Do you give sinning Christians three chances, or do you forgive them "seventy-seven" times? I mean, both can't be true, right? If you're at the point where you're treating a fellow believer like a "pagan or a tax collector", then that would imply pretty strongly that they haven't been forgiven. Since "forgiving" means acting like their offense never happened, or not holding it against them any more.

This whole chapter is weird. Which is a pity, because it started off well with a pretty clear message about Jesus' followers and humility. But then... I don't even know what the conclusion of all this is supposed to be. Well, that's not true. I know what it is. The church will seize upon the "three strikes" rule and ignore everything else.

Am I just being cynical? I know that the "seventy-seven" thing is taken to apply to interpersonal relationships—not the required attitude of the church toward its own flock. And I know that the "ninety-nine" thing is used to describe Jesus' excitement about a new convert—not the required attitude of the church toward its own flock. And the "two or three gathered in Jesus' name" thing is used as a reason why you should go to church.

This is even leaving aside the parable Jesus is about to tell, about the necessity of forgiveness. But I'll have to save that for next time. I think I've reached my threshold for now.

Next time: the necessity of forgiveness!

Don't Give Me That Do Goody Good Bullshit

2012-01-07T08:24:00.000-08:00

Last time, Jesus healed an epileptic boy (after a moment of unguarded angst at his faith-lacking disciples' inability to handle it themselves). Now Jesus is headed back into town, and back into controversy.

"After Jesus and his disciples arrived in Capernaum, the collectors of the two-drachma temple tax came to Peter and asked, 'Doesn't your teacher pay the temple tax?'"

Think fast, Peter. It looks like Jesus hasn't been paying his taxes. And not just some lame Roman tax, either; this is the temple tax, which (I would assume) goes toward the upkeep of the Jewish temple, paying the salaries of its workers, etc.

Peter replies, "uh.... yes! Yes, he does" and high-tails it to the house where Jesus is staying. Because it isn't just Jesus who hasn't paid the temple tax; as we'll soon find out, Peter hasn't paid his either.

When Peter meets up with Jesus, Jesus asks him a question:

"What do you think, Simon [Peter]? From whom do the kings of the earth collect duty and taxes—from their own children or from others?"

So okay, Jesus already knows what's going on. And he's trying to make a point about this tax.

"'From others,' Peter answered. 'Then the children are exempt,' Jesus said to him."

Now that's something. Let's break this down a little. Jesus says that the children of the king (get it?) don't have to pay taxes levied by the king. The king's subjects have to pay those taxes. The children themselves are exempt.

This is really unexpected. I could imagine Jesus saying this if they were discussing Roman taxes. You know, something about the "kingdom of God" vs. the kingdoms of men, and how Jesus' followers owe their ultimate allegiance to God. That would be easy enough to understand.

But Jesus is specifically exempting his disciples from the temple tax. You know, for the Jewish temple. The place where God's presence is supposed to dwell. How is that not important?

My guess would be that Jesus is going out of his way to distance his new brand of religion from the old one. Jewish believers are referred to in Jesus' analogy as "subjects" of the king, whereas Jesus' followers are considered to be "children" of the king. Implying a closer relationship and special privileges.

So I guess this means no more tithing? (Now, this goes a long way back into the Hebrew Bible / Old Testament, but "tithing" as we know it today comes from the Biblically mandated Jewish practice of donating 1/10th of your earnings to the temple. Which essentially made it a tax, since ancient Israel was a theocracy, and the temple and its workers were a government agency. God promised to make up the difference to his people, but still the expectation was that 1/10th of everything you made would go toward the temple.)

The practice of tithing continues in the Christian church today, with a similar expectation that church members would donate 1/10th of their earnings to their church. There's plenty yet to come in the New Testament on the subject of giving, but for now we can at least say that Jesus is declaring religious taxes obsolete.

Indeed, Jesus' disinterested attitude toward money is demonstrated in how he tells Peter to get the money to pay this temple tax:

"'But so that we may not cause offense, go to the lake and throw out your line. Take the first fish you catch; open its mouth and you will find a four-drachma coin. Take it and give it to them for my tax and yours.'"

Jesus doesn't ask his disciples or the townspeople for donations. Nor does he poof money out of thin air. He just tells Peter to go out and find a lost coin. He won't even be handling it himself.

Which of course begs the question, whence cometh the enormous Wal-Mart churches dotting our landscape? How does following Jesus, a homeless man who cared nothing for money and warned his disciples not to "serve" it, lead to that?

I'm tempted to answer that with "I dunno, lol". But I really don't know that I could explain it. All I can say is that when I was in that church culture, I rarely questioned it. Nor did I often consider the discrepancy between the example of Jesus and the example of the church. But at least I do understand on a practical level why the church kept the practice of tithing around. You won't get very far by telling your congregation "eh, who cares about money—we don't need it."

After this, Jesus' disciples (having picked up on something in his "children of the king" analogy) begin to wonder who is "greatest" in the kingdom of heaven. Are the "children" better than the "subjects"? How does that all work out? I'll take that up next time.

Next time: So who is God's favorite, anyway?

You Can't Always Get What You Want

2011-12-31T09:42:00.000-08:00

Last time - and the time before that - Jesus took three of his disciples up a mountain and was "transfigured" into a heavenly version of himself. Now things return to normal, sort of.

Jesus and his disciples come down from the mountain and are met by a man, who asks Jesus for help:

"Lord, have mercy on my son. He has seizures and is suffering greatly. He often falls into the fire or into the water. I brought him to your disciples, but they could not heal him."

Maybe he should keep his kid away from fire and water? Just a thought. But let's see what Jesus has to say.

"'You unbelieving and perverse generation,' Jesus replied, 'how long shall I stay with you? How long shall I put up with you? Bring the boy here to me.'"

Wow. That's unexpectedly self-centered. A man has just come to Jesus in desperation, and the first thing out of Jesus' mouth is "I'm so sick of you people." Really, Jesus? You couldn't maybe table that discussion until another time? He isn't even expressing any concern about how his disciples are going to get by once he's gone. He just wants to be done with them.

And this is the guy who just got a mountaintop seal of approval from God himself. Not that Jesus' expressed attitude toward his people here is all that different from God's in the Hebrew Bible. Back in the book of Exodus, God's frustration with the Israelites boiled over and he threatened to kill them all and start over with Moses. (Only Moses' intervention kept that from happening.)

And not that you or I would be any different, if we were supreme beings charged with the religious instruction of humanity. (I'd probably be like "ugh, fuck you guys" within five minutes.) But that's not how God is supposed to be. Right? He's supposed to value us. On an individual and collective level. There's a huge church within driving distance of my house whose mantra is "you matter to God". I kind of feel like that statement needs to be qualified. Something like "you matter to God, but he will eventually get tired of your shit."

So now that Jesus has made everybody feel special, it's time for the healing.

"Jesus rebuked the demon, and it came out of the boy, and he was healed at that moment."

A demon? That's what's responsible for this kid's seizures? Okay, sure -- I get that this story was written 2000 years ago. I don't expect these people to have any real understanding of human physiology. But this is supposed to be the eternal, unchanging word of God. Meaning that this story is just as true today as it was when it was first written. And that means that seizures are caused by demonic possession. So don't worry about the doctor; just call up an exorcist and they'll take care of things.

Of course, most Christians would still take their children to the doctor if they were sick. The explanation I've been given for that is that God created our minds and gave us the ability to figure stuff out, so it doesn't supplant his authority or power if we go to the doctor. In other words, illness and disease aren't specifically spiritual issues. So it's no biggie.

But if epilepsy is caused by demons, you'd think that that would make it a very specifically spiritual issue. Is it not caused by demons anymore? Is anti-seizure medication made with holy water or something?

The short answer is that we need God for less now than we did then. At this point, he's mainly there to provide existential comfort.

Anyway. Getting back to the story:

"Then the disciples came to Jesus in private and asked, 'Why couldn't we drive it out?'"

See that, Jesus? Your disciples were classy enough not to talk shop in front of the person asking for healing.

His response isn't much of a surprise:

"Because you have so little faith."

How little?

"Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you."

I'm guessing that not many people have that much faith, since I don't see a lot of geographical rearranging going on. It's weird though that Jesus calls a mountain-moving faith "small". What could someone do if they had a ton of faith? Recreate the Big Bang?

I've mentioned this before, but putting it back on the believer like this makes "faith" not about God or Jesus, but in one's own ability to believe. It's a pretty dickish equation. "All of this amazing power is available to you, just waiting to be used. But if it doesn't work, it's your fault for doubting." And yes, I have seen plenty of Christians caught in the gap between expectation and reality. Faith in Jesus is sold as a pathway to freedom, but just as often I've seen it become a prison.

After this, Jesus gathers his disciples together and tells them again that he's going to be arrested, put to death, and resurrected. The disciples' lack of faith is evidenced here at their response - they're "filled with grief", even though Jesus said that he would come back to life.

I said that I was going to get to a story about Jesus and taxes, but I think I'm going to leave off here for now. But the taxes story is up next.

Next time: Jesus and taxes!

Just In Case You Missed It

2011-12-18T13:36:00.000-08:00

Last time, I kind of hit a brick wall when I got to the story of Jesus' transfiguration. This is when Jesus takes three of his disciples up on a mountain and starts shining - in a "light of heaven" way - with two dead prophets (Moses and Elijah) appearing next to him.

So why did this, of all things, trip me up? I've already read about Jesus walking across a lake, sending demons into a herd of pigs, and other such supernatural activities. I was able to roll with that stuff. Why should this be any different?

I don't know. Maybe it's that this story is so obvious in its intent. And as I said last time, directly identifying Jesus with God effectively pre-empts any further discussion about him. I guess I prefer to be able to judge Jesus on his own merits, rather than just being told "hey, he's the Son of God so you'd better do what he says."

Funny I should mention that! Look what comes next.

"Peter said to Jesus, 'Lord, it is good for us to be here. If you wish, I will put up three shelters--one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.' While he was still speaking, a bright cloud covered them, and a voice from the cloud said, 'This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased. Listen to him!'"

I just don't know what to do with this. I mean, at this point I either need to be on board, or not. God himself has just told Jesus' disciples (and us, by extension) that Jesus is His Son, and that we'd better do what he says. That's pretty much it then, isn't it? And it's weird to get this in the middle of the Book of Matthew. We haven't even gotten to the end yet. You'd think that they would save the big reveal until then, when we as readers might go "ahh, now it all makes sense" and find it easier to buy in.

But then I remember that this book was written to people who already had bought in. Maybe that's part of the problem. I'm expecting more of a sales pitch than I'm getting. But I have to admit, I also don't get how it matters. I don't get how it matters that Jesus is the Son of God. What if he isn't? Would that automatically invalidate everything he's said? Does he need to be the Son of God in order to have any legitimacy? None of the prophets in the Hebrew Bible claimed to be anything more than men. So why is it different for Jesus?

I've often heard it said that Jesus is meant to be the embodiment of God's character and nature. In other words, Jesus (as the Son of God) uniquely provides us with a living picture of how God would behave if he were in our midst. What would he say? What would he do? What would he prioritize? We find the answers to those questions when we observe what Jesus says, does, and prioritizes.

But again, why does Jesus actually need to be divine in order for that to work? Any person claiming to be a follower of God would surely demonstrate their understanding of God's values in their words and deeds. Again, it's like the readers of this book aren't being trusted to put two and two together. Really, Jesus only needs to be the Son of God for the "crucifixion as salvation for the world" formula to work out. (And we'll get there eventually.)

Back to the story:

"When the disciples heard [God's voice], they fell facedown to the ground, terrified. But Jesus came and touched them. 'Get up,' he said. 'Don't be afraid.' When they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus."

The vision is over now, and Jesus is back to his normal self. Or is he? The implication here is that Jesus is both "regular guy" and "heavenly being" at the same time. His disciples had their blinders removed for a moment, and they were able to see Jesus as he really is; that is, Jesus as viewed from God's perspective.

So why the disguise? Why dress yourself up as an ordinary man, if you're the Son of God? Wouldn't you get more people to listen to you if you were to reveal your true identity? The explanation I always got was that if Jesus were to walk around all shiny (and accompanied by dead prophets), then people wouldn't really have a choice about following him. It would be obvious that he was God in the flesh, so that only a complete fool would say "no thanks, Jesus". So in order to preserve our free will, God puts Jesus in a man suit, allowing us to accept or reject him freely.

Which, of course, is bullshit. We were just told point blank that Jesus is the Son of God. There's not meant to be any choice in the matter. He's the Son of God, and that's it. The truest answer - though I usually try to avoid being so direct - is that this story is just a bit too convenient to be plausible. Only three people get to see Jesus in his "Son of God" glory? And then there's this:

"As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus instructed [his disciples], 'Don't tell anyone what you have seen, until the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.'"

In other words, don't let anyone know that Jesus can light up like a torch until after he's gone, by which point nobody will be able to verify (or deny) it.

Actually, this is an illuminating story (no pun intended) because we as readers are also getting a peek behind the curtain - not into Jesus' true nature, but into the mindset of the early church. Living in a post-Jesus world where things were decidedly more mundane, one would need reassurance that God is still at work, even if it is behind the scenes. And so you have this story of Jesus being transfigured, demonstrating the existence of the parallel God-reality that we just can't see.

Of course, such reassurance wouldn't be needed if Jesus' legitimacy hadn't been tied to supernatural claims in the first place. Which itself wouldn't be needed if the church had allowed people to make up their own minds about Jesus, rather than forcing the issue by identifying him as the Son of God.

The story of Jesus' transfiguration closes with a refresher on New Testament theology:

"The disciples asked [Jesus], 'Why then do the teachers of the law say that Elijah must come first [before the Messiah]?' Jesus replied, 'To be sure, Elijah comes and will restore all things. But I tell you, Elijah has already come, and they did not recognize him, but have done to him everything they wished. In the same way the Son of Man is going to suffer at their hands.' Then the disciples understood that he was talking to them about John the Baptist."

This seemingly random exchange is more reassurance for early Christians, who were, as you might recall, mostly Jewish. Apparently, one Jewish response to "Jesus is the Messiah" was that he couldn't be the Messiah - the Hebrew Bible states that Elijah has to come back first. And where's Elijah? He's not here yet.

Naturally, this would have been troubling to Jewish Christians. So Jesus explains that Elijah actually did come back already, in the form of John the Baptist. And as an added kicker, Jesus points out that "they" didn't recognize John as Elijah 2.0 and had him put to death. "They" being the Jews who are now denying that Jesus is the Messiah. Is that fair? Not really; John the Baptist was a popular guy, and was senselessly executed by the puppet king of Judea. But it's easier to maintain your beliefs if you can dismiss those who question them.

That's it for the story of Jesus' transfiguration! (Thank God.) After Jesus comes down from the mountain, it's back to the real world. At least the real world as experienced by Jesus - more healings and arguments with religious authorities.

Next time: Jesus and taxes!

Blinded By the Light

2011-12-04T11:41:00.000-08:00

Last time, Jesus predicted that he would be returning within about 50 years. On the heels of that striking (and strikingly incorrect) pronouncement comes this:

"After six days Jesus took with him Peter, James and John the brother of James, and led them up a high mountain by themselves. There he was transfigured before them. His face shone like the sun, and his clothes became white as the light. Just then there appeared before them Moses and Elijah, talking with Jesus."

This would be asking enough of the audience if Jesus hadn't just made a false claim about the end of the world. But now we're told that Jesus - while alone with only three of his disciples - suddenly transforms into Heaven Mode, with two famous Hebrew prophets appearing beside him, "Return of the Jedi"-style.

Which is a lot to accept. Of course, this isn't the first time that the Book of Matthew has gone down the supernatural road. Heck, it starts off with a virgin getting pregnant and angels appearing in dreams. But this particular story isn't about the circumstances of Jesus' birth, or even about the miraculous powers he possesses. It's about showing us exactly what Jesus means when he claims to be the "Son of God". Apparently, he wasn't speaking figuratively.

So now that all of the cards are laid on the table, it becomes clear that the author of the Book of Matthew isn't interested in discussing the pros and cons of Jesus and his message. We're simply being told who he is. We always have been.

And this forces a decision on our part. Is Jesus, in fact, the Son of God? He would have to be, in order for anything in the Book of Matthew to make sense. C.S. Lewis famously wrote (and I'm paraphrasing here) that we can't simply accept Jesus as a "good teacher" while rejecting his divinity, because any mere human making the claims that Jesus made would either be maliciously deceptive or completely insane. Therefore, Lewis concluded, Jesus must have been who he claimed to be.

Of course, this assumes that the claims made in the Book of Matthew (as well as Mark, Luke and John) are, well, true. This is where it gets tricky. There aren't any other sources of information about Jesus beyond the Gospels. And those books were written by people who believed, and who wanted others to believe, that Jesus was and is the Son of God. So if information in these books isn't true - as in, literally true - then Jesus is nothing more than a fictional character in a story that may have internal consistency, but no real-world significance.

This has always been the biggest issue for the Book of Matthew (and the Bible in general). But it's easier to set that issue aside when Jesus is talking about things that we can experience or understand. A story about Jesus being turned into a human spotlight and conversing with dead prophets is not really in that category. Once again, it all comes down to a choice - are you going to take this book at face value, with no external validation of its reliability, or are you not?

People call this "faith", and I suppose it is. Trusting that the words of this book originate somehow with God, or that they describe the reality of God. But it is faith based on itself. Which, I should be quick to point out, is fine. That is, if someone wants to believe in God, or in Jesus, then great. Go ahead and believe, and may your life be better for it.

But in my own experience, Christians aren't content to simply believe and live their lives. They want to spread their faith to others, to make others believe as they do. Now to be fair, this itself is a command from Jesus (we'll get there). But at the point when someone attempts to present their subjective belief to others as objective truth, it's also fair to point out the subjectivity of that belief. (In this case, to remind them that their faith is based upon a single self-validating source of information. Or upon personal experience, which is even more subjective.) And that nobody therefore is under any obligation to accept that belief.

That's pretty much all I have for right now. I was expecting to get further (I didn't even finish this story). But honestly, I'm not sure where to go from here. Is there a point in continuing? I mean, it's not like the Bible is going to get any less supernatural and wacky. And the same issue will be present then as well - there's nothing beside the Bible to validate the stories in the Bible. And there's never going to be anything more than "just believe" as a reason to accept any of this as truth.

I guess I still find myself instinctively believing that there is something to be found here, something that I can take as my own, even despite everything I've written in this blog. Despite where I am as a person now.

The best I can describe it is like going back to school. And I don't mean adult education; I mean going back to your old school. Walking the halls again. Remembering the people you knew, the experiences you had. It was something real once, but not anymore. Everyone's grown up now. And as much as you're glad for that, there's still that tug sometimes. Something pulling you back, if only for a while. Perhaps I'm experiencing Christianity nostalgia, or maybe nostalgia for the certainty of belief that accompanied Christianity. Life wasn't any less complex then, but I believed it to be. And that still holds some appeal. Because reality is fucking hard.

I suppose that subjective beliefs are pretty hard to shake, when they make sense of things for you.

Next time: Do I finish the story of Jesus' transfiguration?

I Think the Clock Is Slow

2011-11-27T08:55:00.000-08:00

Last time, Jesus revealed his identity as the "Son of God" to his disciples, and began to talk about his upcoming crucifixion. Continuing immediately from that point, Jesus lays out some ground rules for anyone who wishes to follow him:

"Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will find it. What good will it be for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul? Or what can anyone give in exchange for their soul?"

First of all, I wanted to let you in on some translation shenanigans that are afoot in these verses. The words used there for "life" and "soul"? They're the same word. But they're translated differently from one verse to the next. Why? Because this is Christian theology, and it's expected that Jesus would be talking about souls. Which is kind of a weird, circular logic. But Jesus and all of his followers were Jewish, and they would have had a Jewish understanding of human existence. That is, they wouldn't have made a clear distinction between a person's "life force" and their "soul", even though Christianity traditionally distinguishes between a soul and the life in our human bodies.

And where does an idea like that come from? From the dominant (Greek) culture of the time. Christianity may have started out as a Jewish splinter group, but it didn't stay that way for long. Eventually, the church came to be composed primarily of non-Jewish people who were less familiar with the Hebrew Bible, and more familiar with Greek ideas about human nature.

So why am I mentioning this again? Because one of the things I'm interested in is separating the message of the Bible from the message of the church. And this is one of those places where you can see Bible translators attempting to harmonize the two. It may not seem significant, but think of the difference in meaning between "save your life" and "save your soul". They sound different, don't they? One is more immediate and practical, whereas the other evokes some sort of religious duty.

But the only "religious duty" Jesus makes mention of here is the need for his disciples to deny themselves, take up their cross, and follow him. (Oh, is that all?) Hey disciples: whatever you want in life, say "no" to it. Then march with Jesus towards death row, because he was executed and you will be too.

Not much of a sales pitch, is it? This is another one of those times when we are reminded that the Book of Matthew was written to existing groups of Christians, who were in all likelihood experiencing persecution for their beliefs. Jesus' words both set realistic expectations ("yeah, it's probable that some of you will die for following me") and offer encouragement, of a sort ("follow me or follow the world, and by the way following the world leads to emptiness and death"). The only way to maintain such extreme religious devotion is to believe that there are no viable alternatives. And that one's perseverance will be duly rewarded.

"For the Son of Man is going to come in his Father's glory with his angels, and then he will reward each person according to what they have done."

There you go. That's the ultimate reason to stay on the path - Jesus is coming back! And when he does, he's going to give everyone what they deserve. He's going to make things right again. Because really, it doesn't seem right that someone would have to go through so much shit just because of their religious affiliation. Well, when Jesus returns he'll remedy that. If you hung with him through thick and thin, you'll get a big prize.

Although I wonder about this heavenly meritocracy Jesus is making reference to. Isn't heaven just, you know, heaven? Are there different levels? Like, the "just okay" good people have to stay at the budget motel, but the really saintly people get a mansion in a gated community? It would seem so, from what Jesus is saying. But I get the sense that the real intent here is to let persecuted Christians know that Jesus will be fair. So the people who really laid it on the line won't feel ripped off.

But then Jesus (or Matthew) takes the encouragement one step too far:

"Truly I tell you, some who are standing here will not taste death before they see the Son of Man coming in his kingdom."

Well, that's a little awkward. Jesus just said that he'd be returning within a generation. Now, this claim would still have been acceptable to Christians 40 years after the fact (which is when the Book of Matthew is thought to have been written). But it's a narrow window. Eventually, even people who were infants during Jesus' ministry would start dying off. Once you hit about 100 A.D. or so, it's pretty much over.

The toughest part about this is Jesus' use of "truly I tell you", which he reserved for the important stuff. So here Jesus is, going out on a limb and saying "SERIOUSLY, guys" about something that's long since been known not to be true. And not just technically untrue in an "off by a few years" way. It's been, as we all know, two thousand years since Jesus was around. Two thousand! At what point do we say "you know, maybe he was wrong"? Can that happen, once we've invested our lives wholeheartedly in Jesus?

And this is a hell of a thing to be wrong about, too. We're talking about the second coming of Christ! You know, the event that's supposed to make all the suffering of Jesus' followers worthwhile. I can only hope that Jesus didn't really make this claim himself. Because if he did, he's a pretty horrible person for willfully (or delusionally) leading people to a life of persecution and death. Which makes his earlier statement about gaining the world and losing one's life more than a little ironic.

So how does the church explain this? I had always been told that Jesus was referring to the advent of the church after his resurrection and ascension into heaven. That's Jesus coming in his kingdom. (Really, there isn't any other significant event in that time frame, so it's kind of your only option.)

Of course, Jesus is right in the middle of talking about his second coming when he makes that claim. And it would be a bit weird for him to emphatically say, "you know, some of you will still be alive a year later when this whole church thing gets going." That's not the kind of thing you need to tell people. Plus, Jesus isn't "coming" anywhere at that point, since he's "going" to heaven and sending the Holy Spirit in his place.

As we'll see, the question of Jesus' return will remain an issue throughout much of the New Testament. So this doesn't just affect modern Christians - it was also a concern for the early church, which was expecting Jesus to show up at any moment.

It would be interesting for me to know how the church managed that transition. How the faith of those early Christians survived the slow, disappointing realization that Jesus probably wasn't going to be coming back. After believing for so many years that they would be rescued from the troubles they were experiencing in the world. Obviously some found a way through, but I imagine that others didn't. Would they have felt betrayed? Lied to? That they had wasted their lives in a vain pursuit?

I know that's how I felt.

Next time: Jesus reveals even more of his divinity! Or son-of-divinity!

Simon Says

2011-11-20T07:32:00.000-08:00

Last time, Jesus healed a persistent Canaanite woman and miraculously fed a second (though slightly smaller) crowd of people. Now it's time to get theological, or mythological, or whatever you want to call it. I'll let the text speak for itself:

"When Jesus came to the region of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, 'Who do people say the Son of Man is?'"

Here it comes, finally. Who is Jesus? Or better yet, what is he? We're about to find out.

"[Jesus' disciples] replied, 'Some say John the Baptist; others say Elijah; and still others, Jeremiah or one of the prophets.'"

The conventional wisdom around Judea is that Jesus is the reincarnated form of one of the prophets (John the Baptist included - though I'm not sure how that would work, given that Jesus and John were the same age). So Jesus could be Elijah, or Jeremiah, or somebody else.

Though it's unexpected that the adherents of a religion that doesn't teach reincarnation would universally assume that Jesus is a reincarnated prophet. Where would that idea have come from? Even though the Hebrew Bible got into some "final judgment" stuff toward the end, the basic understanding of human existence in Judaism had always been "you live, you die, that's it".

Also, it's interesting how nobody thinks that Jesus himself is a prophet, all on his own. He has to be some other prophet in disguise. Why is that? Is God no longer accepting applications for new prophets?

Additionally, it's worth noting that nobody thinks Jesus is the Messiah. They all gravitate toward prophet. Perhaps because in the Hebrew Bible, prophets had usually spoken out against whatever political or religious authority happened to be in power. And Jesus' confrontations with the religious establishment would have fit that template.

But what about Jesus' "kingdom of heaven" talks? Did nobody pay attention to those? I can only assume that that stuff wasn't as sexy as miracles and sticking it to the man, and therefore wouldn't have spread as quickly.

Anyway. Jesus now turns this question back on his disciples:

"'But what about you?' he asked. 'Who do you say I am?'"

Think fast, disciples!

"Simon Peter answered, 'You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.'"

Finally! Someone says "Messiah". But then he tacks "Son of the living God" onto the end, which is like... what? Typically the Messiah was referred to as the Son of David, as in King David of Israel, because the Messiah was to be descended from him. But Son of God? What does that mean? How is that even possible?

If you remember, back at the beginning of the book of Matthew, we were presented with a genealogy of Jesus. Which did go back to King David (and further back to Abraham, the patriarch of the Jewish people). But then in that same chapter we're told that Jesus' mother Mary was found to be pregnant, despite being a virgin. And that in a dream, Mary's not-yet-husband Joseph was told that Mary's baby had been conceived by the Holy Spirit (i.e. God). But here's the odd part: this genealogy goes through Jesus' father's line. As in, Joseph. The man who wasn't actually Jesus' biological father, and who therefore isn't even related to him.

So really, Jesus isn't the "Son of David" at all. And judging from the virgin pregnancy story, I guess it's fair to say that Jesus would more properly be the "Son of God" anyway.

I do wonder, though: would Jesus' lack of genetic connection to King David be a dealbreaker for Jewish people expecting a Messiah? I mean, the word "messiah" itself means "anointed one", which is another way of saying "the king". (David even referred to his predecessor King Saul as such.) And the strongly implied expectation would have been that the Messiah would restore the throne and kingdom of Israel, just like it had been in the olden days. That's the kind of thing that a king would do, especially a king blessed by God himself.

But it seems clear that Jesus has little to no interest in politics. In that sense, he's disqualifying himself as much as his (lack of) lineage would have disqualified him. So maybe Simon Peter was right to go for "Son of God" rather than "Son of David".

Here's what Jesus has to say in response:

"Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah, for this was not revealed to you by flesh and blood, but by my Father in heaven. And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it. I will give you the keys to the kingdom of heaven; whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth wlil be loosed in heaven."

There's a lot of theology in that statement. First of all, about "Simon Peter": the name of Jesus' disciple who offered this response was "Simon". Which would have been "Simeon" in Hebrew. Nice Jewish name. But he's also called "Peter" in the New Testament because of what Jesus just said. Simon knew Jesus' true identity, so he gets rewarded with a new name: Peter, which means "rock". And Jesus says that he will build his church on this "rock". (Catholics will tell you that the church is built on Peter, whereas Protestants will tell you that the church is built upon Peter's confession of faith. Once upon a time I would have been interested in that debate, but now you'll just have to Google it.)

This is also the first time that the word "church" appears in the New Testament. Even though the word "church" literally just means "assembly", as in a gathering of people, Jesus' usage of the term here is very much The Church. After all, this is a very official-sounding pronouncement.

Jesus also identifies the adversary of the church (or perhaps its primary target), the "gates of Hades". Traditionally, "gates of Hades" had been translated as "gates of hell", from which a thousand cheesy horror films were spawned. But it is more accurately translated as "Hades" i.e. "death" (Hades was the Greek word for the place of the dead). Which makes Jesus' claim about the church breaking down its gates less "angels vs. demons" and more "life vs. death".

Finally, Jesus tells "Peter" that he will be given the keys to the kingdom of heaven. Which means what practically? Well, it means that whatever Peter "binds" or "looses" on earth will also be "bound" or "loosed" in heaven. Which still doesn't really clarify what Jesus means, but at the very least we can say that Peter (or the church?) is now being given some divine authority to get stuff done on earth, knowing that it'll be backed up in heaven. Whatever that means.

After this, Jesus tells his disciples not to let anyone know that he's the Messiah. Wait... Messiah? But I thought... oh, forget it.

And now that Jesus' big secret has been revealed, he starts telling his disciples what to expect in the final season: he's going to Jerusalem to suffer and die, and then to be raised from the dead.

But then Peter, who doesn't like spoilers, takes Jesus aside and rebukes him for talking about his upcoming arrest, torture and execution. "Never, Lord! This shall never happen to you!"

This response doesn't go over as well with Jesus.

"Jesus turned and said to Peter, 'Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me; you do not have in mind the concerns of God, but merely human concerns.'"

So does this mean that Simon is now going to be called "Peter Satan"? I wonder if he'll get to keep the keys to the kingdom.

This was a lot of heavy theology for one post, so I'll leave off here for now. Next time I'll continue with Jesus' further explanation of the necessity of his crucifixion - and the necessity of all Christians to follow in Jesus' footsteps.

Next time: We don't have to literally follow in your footsteps, do we Jesus?

Sheep and Dogs

2011-11-13T09:30:00.000-08:00

Last time, Jesus got into it with the Pharisees over the value of their traditions; as Jesus saw it, their unwritten rules and regulations were getting in the way of people obeying God's commandments.

Now Jesus is off to another area, "the region of Tyre and Sidon". Neither of which are Jewish cities, but like Jerusalem they're also under Roman control. As he's there, a Canaanite woman comes to Jesus and asks him for help.

Now if you've been following along with this blog for... well, a long time, you may remember that the Canaanites were the original inhabitants of Palestine. When the Israelites arrived there after their exodus from Egypt, God commanded the Israelites to slaughter the Canaanites because the Canaanites worshipped other gods. The Israelites were mostly successful in this venture, but not completely so. And thus you have Canaanite people still running around in Jesus' day, like this woman who's coming to him for help.

So there's the context. Check out what happens:

"A Canaanite woman from that vicinity came to [Jesus], crying out, 'Lord, Son of David, have mercy on me! My daughter is demon-possessed and suffering terribly.'"

It must be demon-possession season or something. But look at what she says: she calls Jesus "Son of David." (She also calls him "Lord", but that should be lower-case "lord", like addressing Jesus as "sir".) "Son of David" is another way of saying "Messiah". So she knows who Jesus is supposed to be. Whether she's just heard about Jesus, or she believes that he really is the Messiah, we don't know yet.

How does Jesus respond?

"Jesus did not answer a word."

He just flat-out ignores her. Damn, Jesus.

"So his disciples came to him and urged him, 'Send her away, for she keeps crying out after us.'"

That's the spirit. "Jesus, make her go away; she's starting to bother us."

So is anyone here going to show any compassion? What's going on?

"[Jesus] answered, 'I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel.'"

Looks like this woman is shit out of luck, huh? She's not in the "God's people" category, so too bad. She gets nothing. But she's not giving up that easily.

"The woman came and knelt before [Jesus]. 'Lord, help me!' she said. [Jesus] replied, 'It is not right to take the children's bread and toss it to the dogs.'"

Damn, Jesus. How would that feel, to have the Messiah himself belittle you as you're asking him for help? And she gets this treatment why? Because she isn't Jewish.

At this point, you would think that the Canaanite woman would say "okay, screw this" and go back home. But she keeps persisting.

"'Yes it is, Lord,' she said. 'Even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master's table.'"

Okay, that's clever. And I suppose she gets some points for not taking offense at Jesus' metaphor. If she wants help from the guy, she's going to have to argue on his terms.

"Then Jesus said to her, 'Woman, you have great faith! Your request is granted.' And her daughter was healed at that moment."

And that's the punchline. Jesus is impressed with her perseverance, and her clear belief that Jesus is the only option she has. And that, apparently, is what he's been waiting to see. So does this mean that Jesus didn't really think that this woman and her kin were "dogs"? Was he just appearing to reject her because his Jewish disciples wouldn't have considered her worthy of attention? Or was he being honest? Was his mission only to help the people of Israel, and she just got lucky?

You have to wonder if this all wasn't a setup, though. Either on Jesus' part or the author's part. If Jesus is going to go traveling around in non-Jewish areas, odds are that he would encounter some non-Jewish people. And it's not implausible that some of them would have heard about Jesus. So an encounter like this was going to be at least somewhat likely.

So maybe, despite the dickish elitism from Jesus and his disciples, the point here is that maybe Jesus wasn't really sent just to the "lost sheep of Israel" after all. Though if that is the message, the point that the non-Jews aren't worthy of what they're getting is still very clear. But as I mentioned at the beginning of this book, the gospel of Matthew is more Jewish-centric than the other three gospels. Maybe this approach is necessary in order to get audience buy-in. (After all, the Pharisees may have been legalistic tools, but they were also the religious teachers of the time. Their point of view would have been influential.)

After this, Jesus heads back to Galilee (kind of his home base). He goes up a mountain by the Sea of Galilee, and as expected, crowds of people come out to have him heal their sick. So it's a full day of healings for Jesus again.

Actually, it looks like it might have been more than just one full day.

"Jesus called his disciples to him and said, 'I have compassion for these people; they have already been with me three days and have nothing to eat. I do not want to send them away hungry, or they may collapse on the way.'"

Three days. I guess the line was really long. But wait, haven't we heard this story before?

"His disciples answered, 'Where could we get enough bread in this remote place to feed such a crowd?'"

Oh come on. Again with this? We just had a "feeding of the five thousand" story. Are we meant to believe that the exact same situation is going to play out again, with the disciples being just as clueless about what to do as they were last time? They're even in the same geographical location - a mountain next to a big lake.

But okay. Jesus asks the disciples how much bread they have, and they produce seven loaves of bread and a few small fish. As before, Jesus tells everyone to sit down, he gives thanks and breaks the bread, and when it's handed out it's enough to feed four thousand people (not including women and children). Oh, I get it. This isn't the same story; last time it was five thousand men, and this time it's four thousand men. And last time, the disciples gathered twelve baskets of leftovers; this time it's only seven baskets' worth.

But if this is really just the same story retold, the author isn't tipping his hand. After another random encounter with the Pharisees (and the Sadducees, but more on them later), Jesus and his disciples head back across the lake again. (They do like that lake.) The disciples had forgotten to bring any bread, and when Jesus uses a "yeast" analogy to warn his disciples against the teachings of the Pharisees (and Sadducees), the disciples think that Jesus is passive-aggressively complaining about having no bread.

"Aware of their discussion, Jesus asked, 'You of little faith, why are you talking among yourselves about having no bread? Do you still not understand? Don't you remember the five loaves for the five thousand, and how many basketfuls you gathered? Or the seven loaves for the four thousand, and how many basketfuls you gathered? How is it you don't understand that I was not talking to you about bread? But be on your guard against the yeast of the Pharisees and Sadducees.'"

All right, then. Jesus uses both the feeding of the five thousand and the feeding of the four thousand to make his point. That point being, why would Jesus care if there's no bread, since he can make it appear out of thin air? Duh.

It's funny how Jesus as presented here is not really what you would imagine him to be like. He's insultingly dismissive of a non-Jewish person for not being Jewish, and he continues to treat his disciples like complete dipshits. Now, maybe they are, and maybe non-Jewish people really aren't worthy of the Jewish Messiah, but still. What is Jesus' church going to look like when it's finally established? You have Jesus' disciples who don't understand anything, and non-Jewish people who shouldn't even be allowed in to begin with. I guess the rest will be tax collectors and prostitutes who are just glad to be included.

Next time: Who is Jesus, really?

Filling Me Up With Your Rules

2011-11-06T10:02:00.000-08:00

Last time, Jesus fed five (or twenty) thousand people with five loaves of bread and two fish. Then he walked across a lake, just to show off.

Before we move on, though - a quick thought about Jesus' food miracle. If this is something that Jesus is capable of, he would have had the capability to eradicate hunger. Think about that. Even if he hadn't done so, his followers would have been able to, since Jesus hasn't been making a distinction between what he can do and what his disciples can do (given enough faith).

So why does the church go about meeting the needs of the hungry in such mundane, ordinary ways? Why not draw upon the divine power available to Jesus' disciples? Maybe there's a concern about negatively impacting the food industry.

At any rate, Matthew chapter 14 will have to remain in the category of "stuff Jesus can do that nobody else does". Matthew chapter 15 takes us back down to earth, with the arrival of some Pharisees from Jerusalem who have come to argue with Jesus.

So what was so important that they came all the way from Jerusalem?

"Why do your disciples break the tradition of the elders? They don't wash their hands before they eat!"

At least they're not being petty. They had the right idea, accusing Jesus of teaching his followers to do non-Jewishy things. That could give them something to work with. Playing on the people's nationalistic and cultural sensibilities is usually a winning tactic. But then to go with "hand washing"? Weak. (Not that it isn't a little nasty that Jesus' disciples aren't washing up before they eat. Gross.)

How does Jesus respond? Not by denying the lack of hand-washing, but by one-upping the Pharisees.

"And why do you break the command of God for the sake of your tradition?"

It's on now. The Pharisees represent a "Bible plus tradition" point of view, whereas Jesus represents a "Bible only" point of view. In other words, Jesus is a reformer, which is really what most of the prophets in the Hebrew Bible were. Their job was to strip away the clutter that had amassed over time, and get the people refocused on the basics of their religion. (Though in so doing, they were also charting a new direction.)

So it makes sense that Jesus and the Pharisees would disagree about this. The Pharisees represent tradition and heritage, and Jesus represents a younger-generation rejection of that tradition and heritage.

Here's Jesus' example:

"For God said, 'Honor your father and mother' and 'Anyone who curses their father or mother is to be put to death'. But you say that if anyone declares that what might have been used to help their father or mother is 'devoted to God', they are not to 'honor their father or mother' with it."

This is somewhat confusingly phrased, though (once again) Jesus' meaning would have been clearer to his original audience. The basic issue is this: the Pharisees had determined that donating money to the Jewish Temple also counted as a valid "sacrifice". Jesus' problem with this is that a) God never said to do that (or that you could), and b) that money could have been used to support the donor's elderly parents instead. Which, according to Jesus, represents a violation of the fifth commandment ("honor your father and mother").

In other words, the extra rules are getting in the way of God's commandments. As Jesus puts it, "Thus you nullify the word of God for the sake of your tradition. You hypocrites!"

Hypocrites? Oh, right. The Pharisees' original complaint against Jesus was that he was leading his disciples away from the Jewish faith. But Jesus' response is that actually, it's the Pharisees who are doing that. And for good measure, he quotes the Bible against them:

"Isaiah was right when he prophesied about you: '"These people honor me [God] with their lips, but their hearts are far from me. They worship me in vain; there teachings are merely human rules."'"

I've always found it interesting that Jesus makes such a strong distinction between the Bible (word of God) and religious tradition (word of man). And that he has such obvious disdain for religious tradition, because it's just stuff that people made up. And clearly, Jesus believes that the Bible does not fall into the "stuff people made up" category. It had better not, because otherwise it would have no value, by Jesus' own estimation.

Jesus then explains his point to the assembled crowd:

"What goes into someone's mouth does not defile them, but what comes out of their mouth, that is what defiles them."

Jesus' disciples take him aside and tell him that he's offending the Pharisees. But it don't matter to Jesus.

"Every plant that my heavenly Father has not planted will be pulled up by the roots. Leave them; they are blind guides. If the blind lead the blind, both will fall into a pit."

So that's it? "Forget about them"? Like, don't concern yourself with these religious people who are leading people astray? Okay, Jesus; if you say so. I guess that attitude does stand in contrast to the Pharisees; after all, they had come all the way from Jerusalem just to tell Jesus that he was wrong.

But about that "what goes into someone / what comes out of them" comment Jesus had made: Peter, one of Jesus' disciples, asks him to explain that "parable" to them. Jesus responds by getting as close to saying "hey, dumbass" as we're likely to see:

"Are you still so dull? Don't you see that whatever enters the mouth goes into the stomach and then out of the body? But the things that come out of a person's mouth come from the heart, and these defile him."

In other words, "it wasn't a parable, nimrod". Jesus was really saying that what you ingest (as in, whatever foulness might be present on your unwashed hands) doesn't matter because it goes in, and then goes right out again. Perhaps not the advice you would get from a medical professional, but Jesus is talking about the spiritual benefits (or lack thereof) connected to this kind of ceremonial religious activity.

Though it's odd that Jesus would speak in such broad terms about this, because his statement could easily be taken to apply to more than just hand-washing. For instance, if you aren't defiled by what goes into you, does that also apply to pork? Or shellfish? Or a baby goat boiled in its mother's milk? These are actual laws in the Bible about what you can and can't eat. That's not just "tradition".

And beyond that, there's a whole bunch of other laws about things you can't do to your body (don't cut the corners of your beard, don't get tattoos, etc.). Are those similarly irrelevant?

I suppose from a practical perspective it doesn't really matter, because (spoiler alert) the prohibitions about pork, shellfish, beards and tattoos will be lifted for Christians in the upcoming Book of Acts. But if Jesus is trying to claim the high ground in a "who is more Bible-accurate" contest, this is kind of a careless way to do it.

Regardless, here's Jesus' point:

"The things that come out of a person's mouth come from the heart, and these defile them. For out of the heart come evil thoughts - murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false testimony, slander. These things are what defile a person, but eating with unwashed hands does not defile them."

But okay - if not washing your hands doesn't matter, then how would something like "sexual immorality" matter? Sex is just as impermanent an act as eating with unwashed hands. Not that I'd like to invite comparison between the two, but still: wouldn't sex be in that same "who cares" category?

However, what Jesus says is that evil thoughts come out of the heart. Not the act of sex per se, but wanting to have sex. In an immoral way, presumably. So that's the real problem. Actually murdering someone, actually committing adultery, actually stealing - those acts are just evidence of a "defiled" heart, which had already determined that it wanted to do these things. And the defiled heart is the root problem.

Maybe it's because I'm a guy, but I really want to call bullshit on this "evil sex thoughts" thing. Because the fact is, wanting to have sex (or not wanting to) is determined by brain physiology and chemistry. You can't just will yourself into a different physical state, any more than a nicotine addict can will himself to not be addicted to nicotine. You can make the decision to stop smoking, but the physical and psychological addiction has to pass completely in order for you to not want a cigarette anymore. And according to Jesus, an ex-smoker would still be spiritually "defiled" for a continued craving, even if they never smoked again.

Not that we don't want to have rules for appropriate and inappropriate expressions of sexuality. But I think that placing the point of "evil" at the thought level rather than the physical act level only engenders guilt and shame. In other words, you aren't punishing bad behavior, but rather teaching people that they are bad, regardless of whether or not they ever act on their impulses. (Not to mention rendering irrelevant the virtue of self-control, if the sin already happened before that point.)

Well, that's enough about that. And that's it for now as well. The narrative in Matthew 15 moves on (presumably, the Pharisees went back home), and I'll pick it up next time with the story of a non-Jewish woman who asks Jesus for help.

Next time: What does Jesus have to say to a non-Jewish woman?

Keep the Faith

2011-10-30T09:31:00.000-07:00

Last time, Jesus talked about the surpassing value of the kingdom of heaven, and experienced some hometown rejection. Now it's time for some serious miracles, told in flashback form.

At the beginning of Matthew chapter 14, we're introduced to Herod the Tetrarch. Not to be confused with the Herod who was responsible for the massacre of male infants when Jesus was a baby. However, both Herods were puppet rulers in Judea - technically Jewish "kings" but really subject to Roman rule just like anyone else.

Herod the Tetrarch begins to hear stories about this "Jesus" guy, and his explanation for Jesus' miraculous powers is that Jesus is actually a resurrected John the Baptist.

Resurrected? What happened to John the Baptist? Well, remember that John the Baptist was arrested and thrown into prison? (He was.) According to Matthew 14, John was arrested because he had been speaking out publicly against Herod. Why? Because Herod had been sleeping with his brother's wife. Herod had wanted to have John executed, but he was fearful of public reaction. Nevertheless, circumstances arise and Herod ends up being tricked into a promise - that promise being to kill John the Baptist. So that's what happens to John. He's executed and his head is brought to Herod's mistress on a platter. Yum.

Why is any of that important? Because it explains what Jesus does next. He finds out about John's death and retreats by boat to a remote location, to grieve in private. However, the crowds of people who had been following Jesus find out where he went, and are there to meet him when he arrives.

To Jesus' credit, he doesn't tell them all to fuck off. Rather, we're told that "he had compassion on them and healed their sick".

Evening comes, and Jesus' disciples are like "hey Jesus, it's getting late and we're in the middle of nowhere; how about we send the people away so they can go back to town and get some food". But Jesus replies:

"They do not need to go away. You give them something to eat."

The disciples explain that they only have five loaves of bread and two fish. (Do you know where this is going yet?) But Jesus tells them to give it to him. He tells everyone to sit down on the grass, then he looks up to heaven, gives thanks, and breaks the bread. He gives the pieces to his disciples and has them hand it out to the people. Guess what - there was enough food for everyone, and there were twelve baskets of leftovers! And the number of people who ate was -- you guessed it -- five thousand.

Actually, it was five thousand men; they didn't count the women and children. So it was probably more like twenty thousand people. Which is a lot of people. Especially considering that the total Jewish population of Judea at the time was something like 500,000.

This is all the author has to say about the miracle of the feeding of the five (or twenty) thousand. Of course, for us the first question is, "how did this happen?" I mean okay, it's a miracle. But how did it happen? Did more bread just poof into existence? Did the bread grow back onto the loaf as soon as Jesus broke it off? Or did everyone eat a very, very small amount? (Actually that option is off the table, because we're specifically told that everyone was full at the end.)

Who knows. Though I do wonder if this is meant to be taken literally. Because, well, stories about miracles notwithstanding, miracles tend not to actually happen in real life. So, you know, healthy skepticism might lead one to consider alternative explanations. Because if the only explanation is "no, it really happened this way" then... well, the only way anyone would believe it is if they've already decided to believe in Jesus. And there is some metaphorical value from this story, in a similar vein to some of the "kingdom of heaven" stories we've heard before. Starts small, unimpressive, ends up meeting the needs of thousands of people, etc.

But there's no further commentary on this miracle, so okay. Time to move on.

After Jesus sends everyone home, he sends his disciples back across the lake in his boat (rented, I assume) and goes up onto a hill to pray alone. So Jesus spends the night there, while the disciples are still crossing the lake in this boat. (How long does it take? Geez.)

Just before dawn, Jesus decides to meet up with his disciples. But how? They're still in the boat. No problem! Jesus walks across the lake toward them. (Yes, this is the "Jesus walking on water" story.) So what do you imagine the disciples might think when they see this? I mean, it's still pretty dark outside too. I think "holy shit!" might be an accurate guess.

And yeah, it says that the disciples are "terrified" when they see Jesus. They don't recognize him at first and think it's a ghost, and start screaming in fear. Not the manliest response, perhaps. But understandable.

However, Jesus says "whoa whoa whoa, it's me". (Okay, he really says "Take courage! It is I. Don't be afraid".) But I guess the disciples still can't see who it is, so Peter says "Jesus, if it's really you, tell me to come out to you on the water." The logic being that if it's Jesus, he'll be okay. But if it isn't Jesus, he'll drown.

You know, I'm not really sure that that's the best plan.

Anyway, Jesus says "all right, come on out". And Peter gets out of the boat and starts walking on the water toward Jesus. And it works! It must really be him! But Peter starts to get scared - the wind is blowing, and he's probably thinking "I'm not supposed to be walking on water", and he starts to sink. Jesus reaches out and grabs Peter, and says:

"You of little faith, why did you doubt?"

Which is interesting. Actually, this whole exchange is interesting. Aside from the "walking on water" stuff, I mean. Why does Peter start to sink? Because he gets afraid. He starts to worry that he'll fall into the water and drown. Which ironically results in him falling into the water, and he would have drowned if Jesus hadn't caught him.

So is this how it works? Is Jesus' ability to do miraculous stuff directly dependent on our faith? And it can be blocked by a lack of faith? Why on earth would that be how it works? I mean okay, I understand from a practical point of view that the lesson here is "don't lose faith in Jesus". Okay. But the mechanics of this don't make a lot of sense. You'd think that Jesus being able to keep Peter on the surface of a lake - despite Peter's doubt - would be an extremely faith-strengthening experience. But instead it all gets put back on Peter, which means that his faith isn't really in Jesus, but in his own faith. And if his faith isn't enough to keep him afloat, then how is that going to make his faith (in his own faith) stronger? He's just failed. What's to prevent that from happening again? Jesus' divine power has just become practically irrelevant; the real key has become concentrating really hard on believing, which is like trying not to think of the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man.

But again, this story is obviously meant to be a lesson for Christians living post-Jesus. And all they have is their faith; there's no Jesus to pull them out of the water. So they need to make sure that their faith stays strong. But it is telling. The idea that faith itself is something that can waver so easily. If you know something to be true, what's to be uncertain about? If I'm driving down the road one day and a UFO flies overhead, I'm going to know that I saw a UFO, even if nobody ever believes me. So what's different when it comes to faith? Why is faith subject to doubt and second-guessing?

I suppose it's probably that "faith" is a belief in something despite any evidence of its truth or reality. Christians will tell you that faith is actually "trust", and that Christians are trusting in God to keep his promises. But the only way we know about God or Jesus or any of this is through this book. So is the book true? How do we know it's true? If the book isn't true, then there's nothing to have faith in. All that's left is personal experience. And that is something real. At least, real to the person experiencing it. But Christianity isn't the only religion around, and it's certainly not the only religion whose adherents can tell you stories of divine (or spiritual) intervention.

So basically "faith" comes down to simply deciding to believe that something is true. For whatever reason. And I suppose it is good to see that acknowledged in the Bible, even indirectly.

Back to the story. Jesus and Peter get back into the boat, and the wind dies down at the same time. (Hmm...) Then Jesus' disciples worship him and say "truly you are the Son of God!" At least they don't have to depend on their own faith.

When Jesus and the disciples reach the shore, the people there recognize Jesus and everyone comes out to see him. All the sick people are brought out, and they beg Jesus to let them touch the hem of his garment. And everyone who does so is healed.

Which just reinforces this whole "faith" thing, doesn't it? Someone touches Jesus' clothes, and they're healed? Jesus might not even have known that someone touched him. Meaning that he had no involvement in that miracle at all, aside from just being a source of healing power. So again, where does faith in Jesus himself come into play? Why ask Jesus "please heal me"? Why not just believe that he will? Which makes me wonder what the point of prayer is. If the question isn't "will Jesus heal me" but "do I believe that Jesus will heal me" then there's no point in asking him, is there? In fact, wouldn't asking imply that you're not sure if he'll heal you or not? Meaning that your faith might not be sufficient to get the job done.

All of this is pretty horrible to me. I think about the kinds of people who would be asking God for healing. You know, people with awful diseases or other problems. And the advice we're meant to give them is "believe that Jesus will heal you", and if they aren't healed, the implication is that they didn't believe enough. That their lack of faith prevented them from being healed.

But surely we aren't meant to tell people that? It sounds cruel. But that is exactly what happens to Peter on the lake. He starts to sink when he starts to doubt. And how many times does Jesus say "you of little faith"? So that is, really, a Biblically appropriate response. But it's also kind of shitty.

Next time: Jesus gets into it with the Pharisees again!

Stand In The Place Where You Live

2011-10-23T08:44:00.000-07:00

Last time, we had our first "final judgment" story. Jesus claimed that at the end of the world, everyone is going to be separated into two groups; one to be burned in the fire, and the other to be rewarded.

Before I move on, I wanted to dwell on that for a moment. Two groups of people. That's it. Every person who ever lived, who will ever live, will end up either in the "good" bucket or the "bad" bucket. Ever wonder why Christians seem to operate with an "us vs. them" mentality? Well, there you go. There's no sliding scale of morality here. You're either in God's group, or you're going to be burned in the fire. (And lest we forget, the entrance requirements into God's group are pretty severe. Jesus himself said that it was a "narrow path" that few would be able to navigate, even religious people. Which means that the great majority of everyone in the world will be sent to hell.)

It kind of makes you wonder what the point is, doesn't it? Meaning, why God would bother to create this planet and populate it with people, fully aware that most of them are destined for an eternity of fiery torment. Especially when God is supposed to have a fatherly attitude toward the people he's created. And God is the one who has set this whole "two buckets" system up to begin with. Why not three buckets, God? A middle one for the people who were just sort of okay? Never bothered anyone, paid their taxes, that sort of thing.

The Calvinists will tell you that God is making all of this happen; he's actively choosing who goes to hell and who doesn't. And really, even if that's not literally true, God is still the one creating the rules of the game, and placing the players in it. You will either win the game through intense self-sacrifice, or lose the game by failing to do so. And if you lose, your punishment will be the worst possible thing imaginable.

Doesn't this sound like a horror movie? You know, one of those where the protagonist (and others) wake up in some sort of maze or cell, and have to perform a bunch of insanely difficult tasks in order to avoid a horrible death. So let's say we make it through this life, giving up everything and everyone for the kingdom of heaven. At the end of it all, are we meant to be grateful to God for not chucking us into hell?

If any parent did this to their children, they would be locked away forever. And yet we are supposed to respond to God with worship and adoration. Don't get me wrong, I love sunrises and mountains and trees as much as anyone else. But when you really think about the rules of this game -- really think about them -- it all seems pretty fucked up.

Of course, this is all assuming that this "two buckets" theology is true. Is it extreme? Yes. But this is the kind of thinking that arises in splinter groups that need to justify their existence. You don't isolate yourself from the rest of the world and radically restructure your life because you think it might be a good idea. You do that because you have to. Because if you don't, you will suffer terrible consequences. No matter what Christians say, nobody would give a shit about the love of God if hell didn't exist. You need the problem in order to sell the solution.

With that in mind, let's take a look at some more of Jesus' parables:

"The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field."

"Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant looking for fine pearls. When he found one of great value, he went away and sold everything he had and bought it."

The people in these stories sell everything they own -- everything -- in order to purchase this really valuable and important thing. They don't cash in their 401(k) or sell one of their cars. They sell it all. House, clothes, you name it. And that's the perspective here. All or nothing. The cost of entry to the kingdom of heaven is that high. It demands absolutely everything.

"Once again, the kingdom of heaven is like a net that was let down into the lake and caught all kinds of fish. When it was full, the fisherman pulled it up on the shore. Then they sat down and collected the good fish in baskets, but threw the bad away. This is how it will be at the end of the age. The angels will come and separate the wicked from the righteous and throw them into the blazing furnace, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth."

Another "end of the world" story. And again, there are only two categories. Good and bad. Righteous and wicked. Interestingly, Jesus hasn't said much yet about what exactly will happen to the "good fish". He spends most of his time describing the punishment that awaits the wicked. So what happens to the righteous? Do they just hang out? We don't really know yet.

After this, Jesus asks his disciples if they're following along. They say "yes". Then Jesus says, "every teacher of the law who has become a disciple in the kingdom of heaven is like the owner of a house who brings out of his storeroom new treasures as well as old." So that's for all you rabbis out there. Become Christians! It'll be neat.

And yet! Guess what happens to Jesus when he returns to his hometown and preaches there. He goes into the synagogues and starts teaching, but all anyone can think of is "holy crap, is this Jesus? The carpenter's son? How did he get to be like this?" And we're told that the people took offense at him. I'm not sure why exactly, but maybe they just thought it was all an act, since they'd seen Jesus grow up and hadn't noticed anything special about him.

Jesus' response is: "A prophet is not without honor except in his own town and in his own home."

Well. Am I wrong in reading some petulance in this statement? I mean, Jesus isn't going to be happy about this. Is there some ego bruising going on? It's like Jesus telling his mom that he's a big boy and can dress himself now. Gosh!

The last verse in this chapter (#13) reads: "And he did not do many miracles there because of their lack of faith." Now, is it that Jesus couldn't do miracles there? Or that he wouldn't? Was the obstacle the people's lack of faith, like that actually prevented Jesus from accessing his super miracle powers? Or maybe he was just like "you know what? screw you guys".

Either way, it seems that there's some awkwardness underscoring this story. Today, we read about Jesus in this book that was written two thousand years ago, and we're like "wow, Jesus". Like he's some superhero of the ancient world. But as with any famous person, there's the reality of who they are behind the reputation and the stories. And most people, when you come right down to it, are pretty ordinary. This little anecdote provides an interesting peek behind the curtain. Jesus wasn't seen as anything special by the people of his hometown. And for whatever reason, Jesus the Messiah, Jesus the Son of Man, Jesus the miracle worker -- none of them showed up when he went home. He was just Jesus, the carpenter's son. And not only was he thought of in that way, he also ended up acting in that way. He took on the identity that the townspeople knew him by.

Which seems odd to me. Why not take this opportunity to show everyone that Jesus is for real? Especially with the hometown crowd. Wouldn't that produce the biggest "wow" factor? But something about being home short-circuits Jesus' divine connection. Maybe that's why Jesus dissed his family when they showed up to talk to him. (If you recall, Jesus had once been told while preaching that his family was waiting to see him. Jesus responded by saying that his disciples were his family.)

So maybe that's what all this is about. All of this talk about separation from your old life, giving up everything and everyone, and so on. Maybe Jesus himself had decided to cut himself off from his family, from his past life, in order to adopt a new persona as itinerant preacher. One who spoke often about the supremacy of the "kingdom of God" above all earthly concerns.

Is that what Christianity really is? A religion founded on family angst? Or more broadly, a young adult's rebellion against traditionalism? Jesus is pretty harsh on the clergy as well. Huh. Not really sure what to do with this right now, since it comes as a surprise to me as well. That's what I get for publishing first drafts!

Next time: Jesus makes up for his hometown visit with some serious miracles!

Stop the World...... Now

2011-10-09T08:37:00.000-07:00

Last time, Jesus told his first parable, a complicated one about seeds and soil. The purpose being to illustrate that not everyone who hears about the "kingdom of heaven" will actually get there. Now he's telling another parable, this one explaining what the kingdom of heaven is.

"The kingdom of heaven is like a man who sowed good seed in his field. But while everyone was sleeping, his enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and went away. When the wheat sprouted and formed heads, then the weeds also appeared.

"The owner's servants came to him and said, 'Sir, didn't you sow good seed in your field? Where then did the weeds come from?'

"'An enemy did this,' he replied. The servants asked him, 'Do you want us to go and pull them up?'

"'No,' he answered, 'because while you are pulling the weeds, you may uproot the wheat with them. Let them grow together until the harvest. At that time I will tell the harvesters: First collect the weeds and tie them in bundles to be burned; then gather the wheat and bring it into my barn.'"

And that's the story. The kingdom of heaven, according to Jesus, is "like" this somehow. A farmer plants wheat in his field. Some jerk comes along at night and plants a bunch of weeds in the same field. The farmer decides to let the weeds grow, so they can be pulled at harvest rather than while the wheat is still growing.

But what does it mean, Jesus? We'll find out. First, another parable:

"The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed, which a man took and planted in his field. Though it is the smallest of all seeds, yet when it grows, it is the largest of garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds come and perch in its branches."

That one's easy enough to understand. From humble beginnings comes something great. And that's what the kingdom of heaven is like. Got it!

Here's another:

"The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed into about sixty pounds of flour until it worked all through the dough."

Similar idea here; the kingdom of heaven will be "mixed" into the world until its influence is felt everywhere. (As an aside, Jesus wasn't just being random with his "about sixty pounds of dough" thing. That's the awkward translation of a Hebrew unit of measure.)

Then we're told that this is how Jesus always spoke to the crowds. He would only ever speak in parables to them. (Except for the Sermon on the Mount and everything else up to this point, I guess.) But why? Well, this is also a fulfillment of prophecy, according to the author. He quotes Psalm 78:2: "I will open my mouth in parables, I will utter things hidden since the creation of the world." And that's meant to be Jesus.

But the thing is, I went back and read Psalm 78. (Which I covered in an earlier blog post, here.) And it really isn't about the Messiah and how he would speak in riddles to the people. It's just a Cliffs Notes version of the history of the people of Israel, which the author of that psalm recounts so that subsequent generations would remember all the stuff that God has done.

It seems to me that Matthew, or whoever wrote this book ascribed to him, just cherry-picked that verse from Psalm 78 because it had the word "parable" in it. Which is odd, because it only ends up weakening his case that Jesus is the Messiah. If you're going to quote the Hebrew Bible to legitimize Jesus' ministry and claimed identity, then it would help if you quoted something that's actually about Jesus. Or better yet, why not just let Jesus' words and deeds speak for themselves? Perhaps the early Christians (who were all Jewish) needed something to reassure themselves that they hadn't abandoned their faith, but were rather fulfilling it.

Back to the narrative. Jesus is done talking to the crowds, and he goes inside "the house". Whose house? Someone's house; I dunno. His disciples follow and ask him to explain the parable of the wheat and the weeds. So Jesus busts out his decoder ring and gives the official explanation:

"The one who sowed the good seed is the Son of Man. The field is the world, and the good seed stands for the people of the kingdom. The weeds are the people of the evil one, and the enemy who sows them is the devil. The harvest is the end of the age, and the harvesters are angels."

So, okay. Jesus (the "Son of Man") is doing his part of this parable right now. He's sowing his wheat seeds in the world. People are hearing his message and listening to it, and eventually they'll grow into this big wheat crop. That's the "people of the kingdom". But at some point in the future (while Jesus is asleep?), Satan will come along and sow a bunch of Satan-y people into the same field. And those people will also grow, into a big crop of Satan plants. But at the final judgment, every person will be plucked out of the world and separated according to their kind. Jesus describes it as follows:

"As the weeds are pulled up and burned in the fire, so it will be at the end of the age. The Son of Man will send out his angels, and they will weed out of his kingdom everything that causes sin and all who do evil. They will throw them into the blazing furnace, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father. Whoever has ears, let them hear."

As before, this parable seems designed to explain why things are the way they are. I think the most telling part of this story is the questions posed by the workers in the parable. "Sir, didn't you sow good seed in your field?" "Where did the weeds come from?" "Do you want us to go and pull them up?"

In other words, "God, why are you allowing this bad thing to continue to exist?" That's really what they're asking. They're expressing confusion over the tension between God's goodness and the reality of evil in the world. (In this case, the existence of evil people, either within the church or outside of it.) They're even offering to take care of the problem themselves, since God isn't doing anything about it.

But according to Jesus, the "workers" wouldn't be able to tell wheat (good people) from weeds (evil people) until both were fully grown. The workers might inadvertently pull some wheat out of the field and burn it up in the fire. Whoops! That would suck.

While I appreciate Jesus' desire not to wrongfully convict anyone, I wonder just how far this metaphor can be stretched. If we take into consideration Jesus' earlier analogies about trees being known by their fruit (i.e. people being identifiable as good or evil by their deeds), then it would follow that the "wheat" and the "weeds" could not be separated until it had become evident which was which.

But it's been two thousand years since Jesus walked the earth, sowing his wheat seeds. Wouldn't we know by now which people in Jesus' day were good, and which were bad? Or does this reset with every generation? And if so, at what point would it be safe to "harvest" everybody without potentially pulling some wheat and throwing it in the weeds pile? At any given moment in time, there's going to be young people and old people, children and adults. People who have shown their character over the course of their lives, and people who haven't yet. When is the cutoff? Wouldn't you always be in danger of wrongful conviction of someone?

Now, you could say that this is only meant to be a metaphor. But we aren't really dealing with metaphor when we're talking about Jesus' return and the final judgment. That will be an actual moment in time, according to Christian teaching. There will be a cutoff. And when that happens, there will be people of all ages walking around on the earth.

Well, maybe it'll be okay because God will know the difference. But he's not the one doing the harvesting. His angels will be performing that task, and they've already been told by God that they can't tell the difference between good people and bad people before they're fully grown. So that would be a problem. The circle of life keeps on turning, and there's never a good time to stop the music.

Even if the early church were operating under the assumption that Jesus would be returning within their lifetime (more on this later), you're still faced with the same problem. Though that at least would make more sense of the parable overall. If you're talking about a single "crop" or generation rather than countless future generations, then the story works better.

So after all this, do we know what the kingdom of heaven is like? Well, for one thing it seems to be less about "heaven" than the name would imply. (Perhaps in this case, the word "heaven" itself is a euphemism for God.) These stories have all been about the effect of God's people (and Satan's people) on this world. And interestingly, Jesus doesn't explicitly state what the evil people, the "weeds", are up to here. Are they outside the church, attempting to shut it down? Are they inside the church, attempting to subvert it from within? Both answers seem plausible; the field in the parable is "the world", not "the church", and yet it is also stated that the angels will harvest the weeds out of God's kingdom.

Perhaps it's simply not for us to try to figure out who belongs in which group. It only encourages judgmentalism, which Jesus has already warned his followers against. And as we've already seen, not even the angels can make that kind of call -- at least not accurately. Nevertheless, attempting to differentiate between the good people and the bad people (and treating them accordingly) is just something that we humans do. But maybe we might think twice about our casual judgments if the scythe were in our hands.

Next time: Jesus gets no respect!

God Made Dirt; Dirt Don't Hurt

2011-10-01T09:19:00.000-07:00

Last time, Jesus talked about the people who would be "in" God's family when all is said and done. And as before, the dividing line came down to whether or not you actually listen to what God says, not membership in a particular group.

Now it's time for some parables. Which basically means "allegorical stories." Here's the setup. Jesus goes out and sits by a lake. There are so many people around him that he gets into a boat, pushes off shore and sits down in it to teach. Everyone else stands on the shore, listening to him.

It occurs to me that Jesus would have to be pretty sure of himself to be cool with this arrangement. It's kind of an odd visual. Jesus sitting down in a boat, with a huge crowd of people standing at the edge of the lake. How long is Jesus going to talk for? Wouldn't they be more comfortable if they sat down? It might make it easier for the people at the back to see, too.

Anyway. Jesus starts off with this:

"A farmer went out to sow his seed. As he was scattering the seed, some fell along the path, and the birds came and ate it up. Some fell on rocky places, where it did not have much soil. It sprang up quickly, because the soil was shallow. But when the sun came up, the plants were scorched, and they withered because they had no root. Other seed fell among thorns, which grew up and choked the plants. Still other seed fell on good soil, where it produced a crop -- a hundred, sixty, or thirty times what was sown. Whoever has ears, let them hear."

Did you catch all that? I don't plant crops, but even having spent some time outside working on our lawn and garden, I read this and get what he's saying. (Friggin' chives!) Which is how it would have been for the people listening as well. Most people at that time were subsistence farmers, so they would have been familiar with this stuff.

But here's the odd part: this is all that Jesus says to them! At least, in terms of this parable. There's no explanation given or anything. So to the people in the crowd, it would seem that Jesus is just talking about crops and soil for no reason. Okay, Jesus. Cool parable.

Because of this, Jesus' disciples come to him and (perhaps with a little confusion and/or frustration) ask why he's speaking to the crowd in metaphors. Here's what Jesus says in response:

"Because the knowledge of the secrets of the kingdom of heaven has been given to you, but not to them."

That's a bit unexpected. And it's not like Jesus' disciples know what he's talking about either. So what secrets do they possess?

Jesus continues:

"Whoever has will be given more, and they will have an abundance. Whoever does not have, even what they have will be taken from them. This is why I speak to them in parables: though seeing, they do not see; though hearing, they do not hear or understand."

Jesus is alluding to a passage from the book of the prophet Isaiah. Which he then quotes explicitly:

"In them is fulfilled the prophecy of Isaiah: 'You will be ever hearing but never understanding; you will be ever seeing but never perceiving. For this people's heart has become calloused; they hardly hear with their ears, and they have closed their eyes. Otherwise they might see with their eyes, hear with their ears, understand with their hearts and turn, and I [God] would heal them.'"

Now, maybe it's just reflex for me, but I'm never one to take a Bible quote at face value. So let's take a look. This is a quote from Isaiah 6:9-10. (I covered this passage in an earlier blog post.) To give you a brief recap, the book of Isaiah was written during a national crisis; the kingdom of Israel had previously been split in two, and the northern part (which comprised most of Israel) had just been invaded and conquered by the Assyrian empire. Isaiah lived in the southern kingdom and had witnessed this invasion. One day, Isaiah has a vision of God in the Temple, and in this vision God commissions Isaiah to be a prophet to the remaining people in Judah, the southern kingdom. (Isaiah wisely says "yes".)

However, the biggest problem facing the people of Judah isn't the Assyrians. If you've been following along with this blog since the beginning (or at least since Isaiah), you might remember that in the Hebrew Bible, there is almost always a direct link between the actions of the people of Israel, and their relative security (from things such as foreign invasions). That was the deal God made with Israel. You worship me, I protect you. And no funny business.

Unfortunately, there was "funny business" going on in Judah. The book of Isaiah mostly deals with the problem of a religious-looking people who have no real desire to follow God. In other words, they go through the motions -- they show up at church every week, they tithe, they sing the songs -- but internally they're dead. And this deadness is described in the above passage that Jesus is quoting.

And now we start to understand why Jesus would be referencing the book of Isaiah at all. The problem of Isaiah's day is the same problem that Jesus is encountering. It's not that the people of Israel have run off to worship other gods; it's that they've lost all connection to God but continue to believe that they're in good standing with Him, because they're doing what they're supposed to be doing.

But okay, Jesus. Why does all of this mean that you can't explain your farming story to the people? Why even bother telling it? What's the point?

I don't know. It all seems like an elaborate setup. As if the situation with the crowds and the disciples and Jesus were itself a parable. After describing the spiritual condition of the people in the crowd, Jesus tells his disciples how they're different:

"But blessed are your eyes because they see, and your ears because they hear. For truly I tell you, many prophets and righteous people longed to see what you see but did not see it, and to hear what you hear but did not hear it."

So now we're taking "seeing" and "hearing" a bit more literally. But still, what exactly are Jesus' disciples seeing and hearing? I mean, this whole thing is over a story about crops and soil. And the disciples still don't know what it means. But Jesus (finally) explains it to them:

"When anyone hears the message about the kingdom and does not understand it, the evil one comes and snatches away what was sown in their heart. This is the seed sown along the path. The seed falling on rocky ground refers to someone who hears the word and at once receives it with joy. But since they have no root, they last only a short time. When trouble or persecution comes because of the word, they quickly fall away. The seed falling among the thorns refers to someone who hears the word, but the worries of this life and the deceitfulness of wealth choke the word, making it unfruitful. But the seed falling on good soil refers to someone who hears the words and understands it. This is the one who produces a crop, yielding a hundred, sixty or thirty times what was sown."

This reminds me of an earlier passage, where Jesus started off by commissioning twelve of his disciples, but ended up on this big tangent about persecution. Like that passage, this one reads as a later addition influenced by the condition of the church at the time it was written. And like most stories, it would have been written to explain why things are the way they are. (Or you could just say that Jesus anticipated this because he's Jesus, and wanted to give future disciples some encouragement.)

By the time the book of Matthew was written (mid-to-late first century, about 40 years after Jesus' ministry), the church was experiencing a lot of persecution at the hands of the Roman empire. And undoubtedly there would have been various reactions among people in the church to this persecution. Some would have given up, which would be a discouragement to those who were attempting to persevere. So by way of this parable, we are given an explanation for why -- how -- it could happen that former Christians abandon their faith.

This is where I come in. I started off as a Christian back in 1991, and I remained a Christian for the next... oh, say, 15 years or so. To be honest, I'm not sure that I have a precise cutoff point, because really it was more like a gradual progression over a period of eight years. It started with small questions about my church, and grew to encompass questions about the church, then expanded into questions about the Bible and Christianity itself. Which eventually led me to the point where I was like "you know, I'm not sure that I can honestly believe any of this."

So that's me. (And just for clarification, I would describe myself as "not sure" rather than "certain nothing is out there". That's one side effect of leaving an environment where certainty is valued highly -- I've become less comfortable with making absolute claims.) Which kind of soil am I?

Well, there's the first kind of soil, representing someone who just doesn't get it. They hear about the "kingdom of heaven", and respond by saying "huh?" That wasn't me.

What about the second kind of soil? People who hear the message and immediately say "yes I want that", but who wither away once they start to encounter problems because of their faith. I don't think that that's me either; I'm pretty sure that I never encountered anything that could be called "persecution", as a Christian. (I mean come on, I'm in America; it's not like this is China or Iran, where Christians really are persecuted.) I certainly never encountered any "trouble" for my faith, either; again, being a Christian in this country is normative.

Then okay, what about the third kind? This is similar in some ways to the second one, but whereas the faith of that second "soil" is ruined by persecution and opposition, the faith of this third one is ruined by "the worries of this life and the deceitfulness of wealth." The intrusion of everyday life -- that's a killer. But is that me? I don't know. I had plenty of worries as a Christian. I have worries now. I don't really think that the existence of life stress made me give up on Christianity. But what about the deceitfulnes of wealth? Well, how about this -- I'll let you know if I'm deceived by wealth if I ever acquire some. (Yeah, not an issue.)

That leaves the fourth kind of soil. Which means -- yay! I'm a true Christian! (Jesus, are you sure there isn't a fifth kind of soil? Maybe something for people who like you but don't like your people so much?)

I'm not sure where all of this leaves me. Which is kind of how I feel every time I write. I can identify with a lot of what Jesus is saying, but...? The "next step", if there is one, isn't obvious to me. Based on what I've been reading, I can't help but think that Jesus would have the same words for the church today that he did for the Pharisees. But that's an unsatisfying conclusion for me. It's difficult for me to just leave it at that and be like "well, I guess the church is fucked, too bad". Though admittedly, my periodic desire to re-engage with the church is tempered somewhat by my near-atheism. That could be an issue as well.

And that's where I'll have to leave it today. Unresolved, but still asking questions.

Next time: More parables!

Brothers and Sisters

2011-09-25T09:23:00.000-07:00

Last time, Jesus warned of an unforgivable sin: attributing God's work to Satan. And this was directed at the religious people of Jesus' day who were condemning him.

At this point in the book of Matthew (chapter 12, verse 38), Jesus is still debating with the Pharisees. They ask Jesus to provide them with a "sign" -- some miraculous thing that would validate Jesus' claims.

So what does Jesus do? Turn water into wine? Feed a bunch of people with fish and bread? Nope. He doesn't do anything.

"A wicked and adulterous generation asks for a sign!"

That is Jesus' answer. He knows that the Pharisees aren't really expecting him to do anything; they're betting that he won't, or that he can't. So Jesus tells them that he's not going to rise to their bait.

But still... you'd think that if Jesus did do something miraculous, that'd shut the Pharisees up, right? Why not? Make fire fall from the sky, Jesus. Pick up a mountain and throw it into the sea. He can do all of that stuff if he is who he claims to be. So why not? It would settle the argument permanently.

But Jesus continues, explaining that they will eventually be given a sign. Just not yet.

"But [no sign] will be given [to this generation] except the sign of the prophet Jonah. For as Jonah was three days and three nights in the belly of a huge fish, so the Son of Man will be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth."

The only "sign" that Jesus will give is that of his own death and resurrection. Which is interesting. That would mean that all the miraculous stuff he's been doing thus far hasn't been for the purpose of convincing people that he's the Messiah. Then why? It would seem that Jesus just wanted to help people. But in terms of proving his theological claims, Jesus rests it all on the cross and the empty tomb. Which is a risky move, and it's not the last time in the New Testament that we'll see Jesus' legitimacy made to depend entirely upon that one event.

Jesus continues riffing on Jonah for a moment:

"The men of Nineveh will stand up at the judgment with this generation and condemn it; for they repented at the preaching of Jonah, and now something greater than Jonah is here."

Quick recap of the story of Jonah: Jonah is called by God to preach to the pagan city of Nineveh, so that they might repent and turn to God. Jonah says "no" and takes a boat in the opposite direction. God gets Jonah thrown off the boat, he's swallowed by a whale (or a fish, or something), and three days later he's spit up on land, near Nineveh. So Jonah says "fine" and preaches to Nineveh, and they all repent. The end.

What might be lost in translation here is that Jesus' analogy is going to be pretty offensive to his target audience. He's comparing the Pharisees, the most religious people around, to a bunch of pagan foreigners. And he's implying that the Pharisees' need to repent is as great as that of the people of Nineveh. In other words, "you think you are close to God, when in fact you are farther away from him than those you condemn." Sound familiar?

Not only that, but the people of Nineveh repented when Jonah spoke to them, and he was just some guy. And he was probably smelly and gross from being in the fish. But when the Messiah himself (according to Jesus) comes along, the Pharisees reject him.

"The Queen of the South will rise at the judgment with this generation and condemn it, for she came from the ends of the earth to listen to Solomon's wisdom, and now something greater than Solomon is here."

Jesus is digging a bit deeper with this one. Back when Solomon was made king of Israel, the "Queen of the South" (I think the queen of Ethiopia? something like that) traveled all the way to Jerusalem to hear Solomon. And again, this is not a "religious" woman. She was just some person who recognized that Solomon's wisdom was worth checking out. The comparison is the same -- a non-religious person responds to something that comes from God, but the religious people now reject something greater that comes from God.

All of this links back to what Jesus said before about the "unforgivable" sin. It's weird that the very people one would assume to be most devoted to God are being subjected to warnings about sin and judgment. And meanwhile, what about the ordinary people following Jesus? Well, they're following him. That's the requirement. So, okay.

Now Jesus (not so) subtly turns the tables on his accusers:

"When an impure spirit comes out of a person, it goes through arid places seeking rest and does not find it. Then it says, 'I will return to the house I left.' When it arrives, it finds the house unoccupied, swept clean and put in order. Then it goes and takes with it seven other spirits more wicked than itself, and they go in and live there. And the final condition of that person is worse than the first. That is how it will be with this wicked generation."

We're back to demon possession. But this time it's Jesus accusing the religious people of being demon-possessed. Though perhaps Jesus' point is made clearer if we don't read this literally, and if we connect it to the "repentance" stuff that he's just been talking about.

Jesus describes a person who is able to purge themselves of something negative (in other words, something that inclines them toward sin). They've repented. And the negative crap stays away for a while. But what does the person do after this? Nothing. The negativity isn't replaced by anything positive. It's just driven out. So what eventually happens? The negative thing comes back, along with even more negative shit. And the person is worse off in the end.

The applicability comes when we again connect the dots between "a wicked generation" and the people whom Jesus is condemning. And as we've seen over and over, Jesus only speaks out against the religious people. So what is he describing?

Well, we've all seen it before. The religious person who has a ton of rules governing their conduct, but who is secretly debased and immoral. It starts with "repentance", which is literally just turning away from something. So there's something about them that bothers them, that they find sinful. So they try to get rid of it. And it works for a while. But eventually it comes back, and they compound it with lies, deceit, and other sins. Ending up worse than they were to begin with.

What goes wrong? According to Jesus, it's that the person never replaces the negativity with anything positive. In other words, there's "repentance" but no real change in that person's life. It's just denial.

Now, Jesus does say "deny yourself". But he also says, "take up your cross and follow me." Denying yourself, on its own, won't get you anywhere. You need to change your life for the better. (And that's as preachy as I'm going to get today.)

Chapter 12 concludes with an odd coda. As Jesus is speaking, he's told that his mother and brothers are outside the house, and they want to speak with him. Jesus answers:

"Who is my mother, and who are my brothers? [My disciples] are my mother and my brothers. For whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother."

Now, this might seem like a random slam against Jesus' family. And it would probably have been clearer to a group of people whose religious and ethnic identites were intertwined. Jesus is restating the point he's been trying to get across: it doesn't matter what your heritage or lineage is. That's not what makes you close to God. What makes you close to God is whether or not you follow him.

The people of the pagan city of Nineveh will do better at the final judgment than the religious people of Jesus' day. As will the "Queen of the South". Why? Not because they belonged to the right group, but because they recognized when God was speaking. And that's all that matters.

Next time: Parables!

I'm In Your House, Stealing Your Goods

2011-09-05T08:36:00.000-07:00

Last time, the Pharisees tried to discredit Jesus by claiming that he was a sinner. This time it's "demon possession."

But first, we get another reminder that Jesus is meant to be The One to fulfill prophecy in the Hebrew Bible. Jesus had left the town where the religious folks had been plotting to kill him, but as usual he was followed by a large crowd of people. And as usual, he healed all of the sick people in the crowd, while (unsuccessfully) warning them not to tell anyone else about him.

Here's the connection to the Hebrew Bible, which is quoted in Matthew:

"Here is my servant whom I have chosen,
the one I love, in whom I delight;
I will put my Spirit on him,
and he will proclaim justice to the nations.
He will not quarrel or cry out;
no one will hear his voice in the streets.
A bruised reed he will not break,
and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out,
till he has brought justice through to victory.
In his name the nations will put their hope."

I like the sentiment expressed here (sort of a "gentle Jesus, meek and mild" thing going on), but I don't know how accurately it describes what Jesus has been up to. Maybe it's just the part about not quarreling or crying out, since Jesus has been spending a lot of time arguing with Pharisees and preaching sermons. He's not really been passive about speaking out at all.

But the "bruised reed" and "smoldering wick" stuff seems right. Jesus has been pretty harsh on the people who claim to be close to God, but he really has been loving and accepting toward the regular people who have followed him.

As Jesus is healing the sick people in this crowd, a demon-possessed man is brought to him. Again, "demon-possessed" could mean a lot of things. There wasn't much in the way of medical science back then. So pretty much anything that couldn't be explained was chalked up to demon possession. And really it ends up being a semantic difference anyway, since Jesus also displays the ability to heal regular diseases.

But okay, there's this demon-possessed guy who is blind and mute. Jesus heals him, and he's able to speak and see again. This is a big deal, so everyone in the crowd is like "ooooh" and they wonder if Jesus could in fact be the Messiah.

Cue the Pharisees! When they hear about what's happened, their response is to claim that Jesus uses the power of "Beelzebul, the prince of demons" in order to heal people. These guys are really on top of things. If this had been a news story on the internet, the comments section would be ablaze with Pharisee posts within five minutes. (Kind of like what happens in real life.)

But, okay. Beelzebul? As in Satan? Let's step back from all of this for a moment. What exactly is Jesus doing? He's going around telling people about a "kingdom of God", he's healing sick people, he's reaching out to sinners and tax collectors. What's so bad about any of that? Oh, right. He's also questioning the religious establishment. That's why he must be demon-possessed. Of course.

You'd think that the Pharisees would learn from their own Bible. It contains story after story of prophets sent by God to speak the same message to his people. But that's the thing -- the Pharisees wouldn't have seen themselves as the latest version of King Ahab and Queen Jezebel (for example). The Pharisees are dedicated to God; they obey all of his commandments and even have some of their own that they follow as well. (Granted, those extra rules haven't been written down yet, but they're still just as important.) They're certainly not equivalent to these idol-worshiping people who tried to kill the prophets, are they?

Well, they did just plot to kill Jesus. So perhaps there's a larger point that's being missed. The prophets had death marks on their heads because they were threatening the status quo. When there's a whole religious system built up to place and keep people in power, you can't let someone come along and tear it all down by saying "this isn't right". Right and wrong become irrelevant; what matters most is protecting the system.

Ultimately, what matters is not the theological differences between the Pharisees and Ahab & Jezebel. What matters is the similarities in their approach to dissent. "Kill." Destroy it. Remove it. It cannot be allowed to remain.

As I've been reading through the last few chapters of the book of Matthew, I've become somewhat disconcerted by the degree to which I identify with Jesus' point of view. Now, I don't mean "oh, I'm supposed to be the big 'ex-Christian', so it bothers me to agree with Jesus." What I mean is that I have a growing feeling that it's not supposed to be this way. On a big-picture level. I am the ex-Christian, after all. I'm supposed to be on the outside, saying "boo, Jesus sucks". And the church is supposed to be on the inside, doing all the things that Jesus says to do.

And yet here I am, finding uncanny parallels between the Pharisees of Jesus' day and the modern-day church. I mean, sure -- I've had plenty of less-than-positive things to say about the church, but to come to the New Testament and actually read about things that I've experienced myself? That's just weird. And it doesn't feel right. It shouldn't be that way.

I suppose that should be comforting to me. But it isn't. It's disturbing. It's one thing to accuse the church of being Pharisaical; it's another to realize that that's exactly what it is. And where does that leave me? Understand what I mean when I say this, but: I feel more Christian than the church. Not that I want to be. Not that I'm more devoted to God than the church is (I'm still not convinced that He even exists). But I have really been resonating with Jesus, which is unexpected. Perhaps it's just that I'm starting to realize on a deeper level how much the Bible is about the difference between the powerful and the powerless.

Anyway, Jesus has his own response to the charge of demon possession:

"Every kingdom divided against itself will be ruined, and every city or household divided against itself will not stand. If Satan drives out Satan, he is divided against himself. How then can his kingdom stand?"

So there's the theological argument.

"And if I drive out demons by Beelzebul, by whom do your people drive them out? So then, they will be your judges. But if it is by the Spirit of God that I drive out demons, then the kingdom of God has come upon you."

And there's the "go fuck yourselves" argument.

"Or again, how can anyone enter a strong man's house and carry off his possessions unless he first ties up the strong man? Then he can plunder his house."

Now that's an interesting response. A lot of times we think of "spiritual warfare" as this sort of epic, ongoing struggle between the forces of good and evil, where either side might come out on top. Like any number of movies out there that feature demons and angels and people in black coats. But Jesus doesn't describe it that way at all. He says "Satan? Oh right, I tied him up and stole all his shit. LOL!" Like, that's it. Done.

And that's how Jesus is able to cast out all of these demons. He's already defeated Bowser, and now he's just getting rid of the Koopas. (Though I suppose a Sonic the Hedgehog analogy would be more apt.)

But then Jesus offers a word of warning to the Pharisees:

"Whoever is not with me is against me, and whoever does not gather with me scatters. And so I tell you, every kind of sin and slander can be forgiven, but blasphemy against the Spirit will not be forgiven. Anyone who speaks a word against the Son of Man will be forgiven, but anyone who speaks against the Holy Spirit will not be forgiven, either in this age or in the age to come."

I have kind of an allergic reaction to "whoever is not with me is against me". It gives me flashbacks to the 2000's, when both the President of the United States and Anakin Skywalker said that. So help me out here, Jesus. What's up with this?

Well, I get the rest of what he's saying, and why. The Pharisees just accused Jesus of using Satan's power to drive out demons. And Jesus is like hey, that's actually the Spirit of God, so watch your mouth. In other words, there's only one sin that God will never forgive, and it's this: attributing the work of the Holy Spirit to Satan.

Which is, as it happens, a sin that only religious people could commit. If you're not a Christian or a Jew or a Muslim (am I leaving anyone out?), you're not going to believe in Satan in the first place. And you're not going to be like "hey, that guy's doing all this miraculous stuff by the power of Satan". Only someone who believes in Satan would say that.

This begs the rather provocative question: have Christians ever pointed to someone being motivated by the Spirit of God and accused him or her of demonic influence? Keep in mind that according to Jesus, this is an unforgivable sin. Like, if you do this, you're out. You're out of the kingdom; you're just done. Sorry. That's it. You can't be identified with Jesus any longer if you're going to attribute the work of God's own Spirit to Satan.

"Whoever is not with me is against me."

Okay, I think I get it now.

But just to be clear: is Jesus actually saying that people in the church are no longer Christians in God's eyes -- like, permanently -- if they go from being John the Baptists to Pharisees? Yes, he is saying that. So how many people in the church does this affect? Who are the real Christians who haven't yet turned on their own, who haven't yet sacrificed their own ability to recognize the Holy Spirit for the sake of maintaining their power?

Jesus addresses this himself by going back to the tree and fruit analogy, this time to emphasize that what you say is also evidence of what kind of "tree" you are:

"Make a tree good and its fruit will be good, or make a tree bad and its fruit will be bad, for a tree is recognized by its fruit. You brood of vipers, how can you who are evil say anything good? For the mouth speaks what the heart is full of. A good man brings good things out of the good stored up in him, and an evil man brings evil things out of the evil stored up in him."

It all comes down to the kind of person you are. If you're a dick, you're probably going to say dickish things. And if you're a compassionate person, you're probably going to say compassionate things. And for someone who claims to be close to God, if you see someone doing good things in God's name and you call it evil, then you just might be the one who's evil after all.

"But I tell you that everyone will have to give account on the day of judgment for every empty word they have spoken. For by your words you will be acquitted, and by your words you will be condemned."

I hope I won't get in trouble for cussing on my blog.

Next time: Jesus disses his family!

Somebody's Watching Me

2011-09-04T09:02:00.000-07:00

Last time, Jesus expressed his frustration (and relief) that the "wise and learned" religious fundamentalists weren't following him. Now we get to see that they are in fact following Jesus. Following him around, anyway.

One day, Jesus and his disciples are walking through some fields of grain. And it's the Sabbath, which means nobody is allowed to work. But Jesus' disciples get the munchies, and start picking heads of grain and eating them.

"When the Pharisees saw this, they said to [Jesus], 'Look! Your disciples are doing what is unlawful on the Sabbath.'"

"When they saw this"? Are the Pharisees (the aforementioned religious fundamentalists) stalking Jesus? It kind of reads that way. At the very least, they're certainly watching and waiting for Jesus to do or say anything that might allow them to discredit him (and by extension, justify themselves).

Here's what Jesus says in response:

"Haven't you read what [King] David did when he and his companions were hungry? He entered the house of God, and he and his companions ate the consecrated bread -- which was not lawful for them to do, but only for the priests."

Hey, if King David can do it, right?

Also, notice the way Jesus trolls the Pharisees. "Haven't you read...?" Don't you know what's in your own Bible that you cling to with such zeal?

"Or haven't you read in the Law that the priests on Sabbath duty in the temple desecrate the Sabbath and yet are innocent? I tell you that something greater than the temple is here."

There's an exemption in Jewish law for priests who have to work in the temple on the Sabbath. So they're not breaking any rules by working on that day. But why is it okay for Jesus' disciples to do the same thing? They're not priests, and they're not on "Sabbath duty".

It's because "something greater than the temple is here": the "kingdom of heaven" that Jesus has been talking about. Remember how Jesus said that John the Baptist was the greatest man who ever lived -- under the old way of doing things? And that even the "least" in the kingdom of heaven would be greater than John? It's like that here.

Then Jesus gets to the heart of it:

"If you had known what these words mean, 'I desire mercy, not sacrifice,' you would not have condemned the innocent. For the Son of Man is Lord of the Sabbath."

That quote is from the book of the prophet Hosea. Here's a bit more of it, so you can get a sense of what Jesus is talking about:

"For I desire mercy, not sacrifice,
and acknowledgment of God rather than burnt offerings."

It's interesting that Jesus doesn't ask the Pharisees if they've ever read that verse. He asks them if they've ever understood it. It's as if God is saying, "I don't care how dedicated you are -- you are not a good person." And it's as simple as that. Does a merciful person monitor others from afar, watching for doctrinal errors? Does a merciful person operate out of self-interest? Does a merciful person attempt to silence dissent? These are not qualities that define "merciful" people. These are qualities that define controlling, unloving people.

I don't know how this happens. How this still happens. After everything that Jesus has said, after all the times he's rejected the religious people and embraced the ones who just want to be different. How much clearer does it have to be? And yet the Pharisees still run the church.

I realize that a Christian reading that last statement might not be inclined to agree at all. Because to Christians, "Pharisees" aren't them. Pharisees are people who are externally obedient to God's laws without being internally transformed by Him. That's someone else. But what does Jesus say? You can tell a tree by its fruit. It matters zero how much you want to be perceived as a follower of Jesus. What matters is the way you actually live your life. The way you treat others. In other words, whether or not you've been internally transformed. And people will know this by looking at you.

Don't forget that the Pharisees came to be baptized by John, just like everybody else. They didn't see themselves as, well, "Pharisees". But everybody else did. And even today, Christians bristle against accusations that they are judgmental or hypocritical. But that's what "fruit" looks like. Anyone can see it. Except the tree itself.

Okay then, Pete. What would you do differently?

Here's what I would say. Take a look at Jesus' last statement. It sounds weird and churchy (probably because of the fake capital letters again), but look at what he's really saying:

"The Son of Man is Lord of the Sabbath."

Now typically, people don't go around proclaiming themselves to be the "lord" of anything, unless they're playing online video games. But I actually think that's the sentiment being expressed here. "You know what? Fuck your Sabbath! I own your Sabbath!"

Okay, maybe Jesus wouldn't have said "fuck", but you get the idea. Jesus and friends are walking along, minding their own business, when all of a sudden the church police pop out of nowhere to remind them that they're in violation of section J-20 of the religious code. Oh my God, who cares? I mean, who really cares? They're eating.

So what I would say is this: if you're going to start a church, make sure you don't have a lot of rules (especially unspoken ones). For one thing, they don't effect positive change in anyone's life. For another, a church should be about reaching out to others, and should therefore be made up of groups of various tax collectors and sinners who have been reached out to. Having a code of acceptable behavior only ensures that your church will be composed only of people who either agree with the rules (and the enforcers of those rules), or who just keep quiet about it. Which I guess is cool, if you're in the mood for a big circle jerk.

Getting back to the story: Jesus continues on to the local synagogue. Inside the synagogue, there's a man who has a deformed hand. So the Pharisees ask Jesus (trying to entrap him) if it's lawful to heal someone on the Sabbath.

What the hell is the matter with you people?

That just sums it all up, doesn't it? They obviously don't give a shit about this guy with the messed-up hand. All they care about is the rules. Does this ever happen today? Only if any Christian ever holds themselves back from doing something loving for fear of violating some religious doctrine (or of being seen as doing so).

Jesus responds by exhaling audibly. Okay, no he doesn't. But it would be great if the next verse read, "Jesus said to them, 'HHHHUUUHHHHHHHHH.'"

Here's what Jesus does say:

"If any of you has a sheep and it falls into a pit on the Sabbath, will you not take hold of it and lift it out? How much more valuable is a person than a sheep! Therefore it is lawful to do good on the Sabbath."

Apparently, that needed clarification. Jesus then tells the man to stretch out his hand, which he does. Bam! He's healed.

And here's the punchline: "The Pharisees went out and plotted how they might kill Jesus."

On the Sabbath!

Next time: Can you believe that this is the guy who started Christianity?

The Sinners Are Much More Fun

2011-08-28T07:10:00.000-07:00

Last time, Jesus divided human history into "everything that happened before him" and "everything that will happen after him". And I wondered how much the "before" was supposed to connect to the "after".

Jesus had been talking about John the Baptist, explaining that he's actually the second coming of the prophet Elijah (is he reincarnated? I suppose not) who was meant to appear on the scene just prior to the advent of the Messiah. But now Jesus uses John as a pivot point to start complaining about the people he's been trying to save:

"To what can I compare this generation? They are like children sitting in the marketplace and calling out to others: 'We played the pipe for you, and you did not dance; we sang a dirge, and you did not mourn.'"

Sometimes I read passages like this and think, "what?" Again, I think the 2000-year interval between Jesus and us (as well as the language difference) reduces the immediate impact of what he's trying to say sometimes. Basically, he's saying "you people are never satisfied!"

"For John [the Baptist] came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, 'He has a demon.' The Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, 'Here is a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners.'"

Who ever said that John the Baptist was demon-possessed? I don't remember reading that. Though I do remember the Pharisees raising their eyebrows at Jesus having dinner with "tax collectors and sinners". Maybe we're meant to understand that the Pharisees got pissed at John after they came to him to be baptized, and John condemned them for hypocrisy.

Jesus' only response to this reaction against both him and John the Baptist is to say:

"But wisdom is proved right by her deeds."

I guess it all ultimately comes down to the way you live your life. If what you say and what you do line up with each other. In other words, who's full of shit here? John for talking about baptism and repentance? He wasn't taking people's money or otherwise exploiting anyone. He lived out in the friggin' desert and had scratchy clothes. What about Jesus? Well, we haven't got there yet, but let's just say that he's pretty dedicated to his message.

That leaves (you guessed it) the Pharisees. They don't want to hear anything that challenges them, like, really challenges them. Why not? Because their entire identity is wrapped up in being right with God, or just right. The words of John the Baptist and Jesus would have come across to the Pharisees as "you are not who you think you are." You think you're close to God? Actually, you're miles away from him. And as a matter of fact, the people you consider to be the furthest from redemption are way ahead of you.

To accept this as reality would completely reverse their understanding of themselves and their own religion. And that's not something that people really like to do. It takes years to build up a religious identity. You can't just let someone come along and threaten that with a few words.

It's weird, isn't it? You would think that John the Baptist and Jesus and the Pharisees would all be on the same side. After all, the Pharisees are the most religious people around. They know their scriptures inside and out. They're super serious about adhering to their laws. So what happened here?

I don't really know the answer to that question. All I know is that this Animal Farm-like shift still happens in the church today. People who started off as John the Baptists end up as Pharisees, condemning the next generation of John the Baptists. Passion and sincerity calcify into self-justifying dogmatism, complacency and fear. Look at the complaints of the Pharisees against John the Baptist and Jesus. "Demon-possessed". "Sinner". Those attacks are still used against perceived enemies of the church today. "They're deceived by Satan." "They're morally compromised." John the Baptist wound up in jail for speaking out. It's not all that different today -- the church just has different ways of marginalizing people.

And yet this church puzzlingly continues to use as its source material a book filled with examples of John the Baptists. Look at just about any Hebrew prophet; what is their message? You have strayed. You have forgotten. You need to turn back. And then there's the supreme irony that the church's primary religious symbol is the image of a man being executed for speaking out against religious hypocrisy.

This gives us a more appropriate context within which to read Jesus' next words. We're given this introduction: "Then Jesus began to denounce the towns in which most of his miracles had been performed, because they did not repent." We read that and we immediately think of some overweight preacher in a bad suit, telling all the heathens why they're going to hell. (At least that's what I think of.) But looking at what Jesus has just said, we realize that he's not condemning "tax collectors and sinners"; he's condemning the religious people who will neither dance for a happy song, nor cry for a sad song.

"Woe to you, Chorazin! Woe to you, Bethsaida! For if the miracles that were performed in you had been performed in Tyre and Sidon, they would have repented long ago in sackcloth and ashes. But I tell you, it will be more bearable for Tyre and Sidon on the day of judgment than for you."

Okay, what are Tyre and Sidon? They're two cities in Lebanon (to this day, in fact) that were called out in the Hebrew Bible for their wickedness. The sort of idol-worshipping, immoral things that usually merited a mention in the Bible. The point is, they're bad places filled with bad people. And everyone knew it. So when Jesus says that it will be better for the inhabitants of Tyre and Sidon than for these two towns in Judea (Chorazin and Bethsaida), he's making a point. The same point he's made before. "You think you are close to God, when in fact you are farther away from Him than those you view as the worst sinners."

And just to drive the point home:

"And you, Capernaum, will you be lifted to the heavens? No, you will go down to Hades. For if the miracles that were performed in you had been performed in Sodom, it would have remained to this day. But I tell you that it will be more bearable for Sodom on the day of judgment than for you."

Oh, now he's done it. Jesus just said that the City of Buttsex is better off than the towns of Judea. I mean, you don't get worse than Sodom. Everybody knows about Sodom. We know about it today; the word "sodomize" comes from "Sodom". Could you imagine if someone today said that homosexuals are closer to God than people in the church? Well, you know the responses. "Deceived by Satan." "Morally compromised." What would certainly not happen is thoughtful introspection. Or perhaps even repentance.

And that's what Jesus is complaining about. "I can't get through to these people!" They're too set in their ways.

Then Jesus says this:

"I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children. Yes, Father, for this is what you were pleased to do."

I always read this verse as Jesus being happy that the dumb, superstitious people were Christians, and that the smart, sciencey people weren't. But who are the "wise and learned" to whom Jesus is referring? The people who spend all their time studying their religion. What Jesus is saying here is that he's glad that God chose the "little children" rather than the "wise and learned" to be his followers. In other words, the people who aren't uptight religious assholes. (Say what you will about tax collectors and sinners; I guarantee you're more likely to have an interesting conversation with them.)

"All things have been committed to me by my Father. No one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and those to whom the Son chooses to reveal him."

(Side note: I hate English translations sometimes. All that capitalization of "Son" and "Father". None of that is in the original Greek text. We just put that in to make it seem more special or something. To me it just makes it more religious-y, and not in a good way.)

Why is Jesus telling everyone that he's now the official conduit of God in the world? Again, look at what he just said. He likes the fact that the unpretentious, messy people are the ones following him. He likes the fact that the hypocritical, religious people aren't. Christianity is often criticized for being an exclusivist religion. And it is; it's just that the dividing line isn't where we think it is.

Jesus concludes with this final appeal:

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."

This is probably the best sales pitch Jesus has ever made.

Next time: More wacky hijinks with Jesus and the Pharisees!

How "New" Is the New Testament Supposed To Be?

2011-08-27T07:34:00.000-07:00

Last time, John the Baptist had a hard time with Jesus, and I had a hard time figuring out what a reconstructed Christianity would look like. Going back to the book of Matthew for a while, we get to see Jesus' follow-up commentary on John the Baptist:

"What did you [the crowd around Jesus] go out into the wilderness to see? A reed swayed by the wind?" (I have a feeling that Jesus would come off a lot funnier if his words weren't separated from us by 2000 years and another language.) "If not, what did you go out to see? A man dressed in fine clothes? No, those who wear fine clothes are in kings' palaces. Then what did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. This is the one about whom it is written: 'I will send my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way before you.'"

It's nice to see that Jesus isn't throwing John under the bus, since John's disciples had just come to Jesus asking him if he was really the Messiah. Jesus stays classy and affirms that John the Baptist was indeed a prophet. Now, we think of a "prophet" as someone who predicts the future. But in the Bible, a prophet is just someone who speaks on God's behalf. And sometimes God wants to talk about the future, so there is that. But most "prophetic" stuff in the Bible is about being devoted to God and not allowing yourself to become compromised.

And that's why John the Baptist was out at the Jordan river baptizing people. He was saying "hey the Messiah is coming, shape up" and people were coming out to him and repenting of their sins.

Jesus continues:

"Truly I tell you, among those born of women there has not risen anyone greater than John the Baptist; yet whoever is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he."

Ever wonder why there's an "Old Testament" and a "New Testament" in the Christian Bible? Stuff like this is the reason why. Jesus is creating a dividing point in Jewish history. On one side, there's everybody who ever lived, from Abraham and Moses up to John the Baptist. And on the other side, there's everyone in the "kingdom of heaven", which is somehow fundamentally different from the previous group, i.e. the nation of Israel. And according to Jesus, the least impressive person in the kingdom of heaven is "greater" than the greatest person in the nation of Israel.

Keep in mind, however, that Jesus was himself Jewish and was addressing a Jewish audience. But still. He's really betting a lot on this "kingdom of heaven" thing. Which so far seems to be mostly a set of precepts for right living. (You remember, the stuff about being selfless and compassionate and avoiding hypocrisy.)

So how is that so much better than the Law of Moses? Because that's really what Jesus is saying here. He's comparing his own teachings with those of the Hebrew Bible. Positively. Very positively. Imagine if someone came along today and said "you know all this stuff in the Bible? it's great and all, but if you follow my teachings, you'll be at a whole new level spiritually". And we have heard that before, from various cult leaders. I can't imagine that Jesus would have been viewed much differently by the people of his time. He had some devoted followers (there always seemed to be a crowd around him), the religious authorities viewed him as a heretic, and the cops didn't really care one way or another until he started causing trouble.

Is that really what we're dealing with here? A cult figure who somehow gained legitimacy over time and is now viewed as the founder of a mainstream religion? I think of the prophets in the Hebrew Bible and the things they said. None of them ever tried to create a dividing line between "everyone who came before me" and "everyone who will come after me". They offered religious guidance to the Jewish people, but within the Jewish religion. Their goal was to get the people back on track, back to following the laws they had been given in the first place.

But Jesus is really striking out on his own here. And he's centering this new set of religious practices in himself. Even though Jesus usually avoids directly referring to himself in messianic terms, it's pretty clear from what he's saying that "The Messiah" is exactly what he sees himself as:

"For all the Prophets and the Law prophesied until John. And if you are willing to accept it, he is the Elijah who was to come. Whoever has ears, let them hear."

Again there's that division between the old way and the new way. The reference to "Elijah" comes from the very end of the last book of the Hebrew Bible, which has this to say:

"See, I [God] will send the prophet Elijah to you before that great and terrible day of the LORD comes. He will turn the hearts of the parents to their children, and the hearts of the children to their parents; or else I will come and strike the land with total destruction." (Malachi 4:5-6)

Gotta love those prophets! So okay, that's what Jesus is referencing. Which, if Jesus is to be believed, means that the "great and terrible day of the LORD" is almost upon the people of his generation. "Elijah" has already been sent in the form of John the Baptist. And now Jesus is here. Which... doesn't seem very "great and terrible", to be honest. I mean, you read that passage above and you'd think that it's time to duck and cover. But is Jesus walking around and telling people to be nice what the day of the Lord looks like? You know, the day? "The day of the Lord" is meant to sound apocalyptic, because that's what it originally meant. The day when God finally settles all of his accounts. Wraps everything up. Ushers in the messianic kingdom.

You know what this reminds me of? Those TV shows where they introduce a bunch of mysterious stuff, only to eventually resolve it all in weird, convoluted ways that don't really make sense. It's like the Hebrew Bible is the previous season of the God Show, and now the writers have to quickly tie everything together without putting a big expensive apocalypse into the script.

"The end of last season promised a 'day of the Lord'! We can't ignore that!"

"We'll just explain it in a different way."

"How are you going to do that? The audience is expecting a messianic kingdom!"

"Look, Jesus is talking about a kingdom, right? And if he's the Messiah, then the kingdom of heaven would be that messianic kingdom! Easy!"

"Nobody's going to buy it."

So now I'm faced once again with the question of how to construct something based on this. Here's today's problem: what do I do about this "Old Testament" thing? You don't have a New Testament without it, and all of the New Testament ideas about God and humanity and sin and redemption come from that Old Testament. But the Hebrew Bible (more properly called) is really its own thing. And the New Testament is really its own thing too -- not yet exactly, but it gets there.

The reason why I ask this question is because it affects another question: what is the core of Jesus' message? The answer to that question changes depending upon whether you see Jesus as an extension of the Hebrew Bible/Old Testament, or if you see him as someone starting a brand new religion.

As a topical example: I recently saw an interview with Jay Bakker (son of Jim and Tammy Faye!) who is a pastor like his dad, but also believes in being inclusive of gays and lesbians in his church. In other words, he doesn't think that homosexuality is a sin. He describes the central message of Christianity as being about love for others. Jesus sacrifices himself on the cross in order to reconcile humanity with God, and that example of love is what Christians should follow. Which, you know, is great. How could anyone have a problem with "being a loving person"?

But when I hear this, I immediately think back to all of the stories in the Hebrew Bible. You know, the horrifying ones like "God kills the oldest child in every house in Egypt", or "God demands the complete genocide of the inhabitants of Canaan", or any number of other examples. The Hebrew Bible is filled with stories about "others" being murdered because they are outside of God's protection. They're not part of his group, so they can (and often should) die. And lest we forget, the Hebrew Bible does also say that gay sex is punishable by death.

So there's that. And I think, even if these stories in the Hebrew Bible are just stories -- even if they're not real and are just meant to illustrate certain themes or give us insight about God -- the God described in these stories is a xenophobic monster. If you're in the club, you'll be okay as long as you obey the rules. But anyone else? Screw them.

Applying that to what Jay Bakker says about Jesus and his love (as we've already read, Jesus spends time with sinners and doesn't like religious people), I see no way to reconcile "love for outsiders" with "condemnation of outsiders". Because they are irreconcilable. Either you are the kind of person who reaches out beyond your borders with an open hand, or you are the kind of person who builds walls and buys a gun. You can't be both.

But even then, it's not easy to say "well, forget the Hebrew Bible; I'll just focus on Jesus' teachings". Because Jesus' teachings so often reference, and are dependent upon, the Hebrew Bible. Look at what we've been reading today. All of this stuff about Elijah and the day of the Lord. What does that have to do with anything related to "love your neighbor"? And you know, the appealing thing about "love your neighbor" is that it's something that anybody can do, in any culture, in any religious setting. You don't need to know a bunch of theology and prophetic what-not in order to do that. But Jesus is always going back to the theology and the prophecy.

So I guess if I were to construct some system of belief based on all of this, I would include the teachings of Jesus that are free from a specific religious context. But then I have to ask myself why I would do that, and not just decide to "love my neighbor" without getting permission from any religious figure at all.

Next time: Jesus complains about religious people!

The Messiah and Me

2011-08-20T08:48:00.000-07:00

Last time, Jesus had sent out his twelve favorite disciples on a mission to do the kind of stuff that he had been doing. Healing people of their diseases, casting out demons, etc. So they're off doing that, and Jesus continues on his own for the time being.

But now we go back to John the Baptist for a while. Remember him? John the Baptist was sort of a warm-up act for Jesus. He would hang out at the Jordan river, baptizing people as they came seeking forgiveness from God. But now it seems that he's in prison. Why? Probably because back then, there was no real distinction between politics and religion, and John might have been seen as an insurrectionist, or at least a troublemaker.

At any rate, John's in jail. And he hears about everything that Jesus has been doing. So he sends some of his own disciples to Jesus to ask him the following question:

"Are you the one who is to come, or should we expect someone else?"

Well, that's unexpected. You'd think that John would be saying something more like "wow, God is doing all of this awesome stuff through Jesus; I'm sure glad that the Messiah is finally here". But I guess John is unimpressed. Even discouraged, perhaps? I mean, at one point John definitely thought that Jesus was The One. John didn't even want to baptize Jesus; he thought that Jesus should have been the one to baptize him.

So what happened to John's faith? And why would John be questioning Jesus' Messiah-hood after hearing about everything that he's been doing? Was John expecting something different? Maybe he was. Maybe John was expecting the Messiah to be "the Messiah", as in (literally) "the Anointed One" i.e. God's chosen king of Israel. Jesus should be reclaiming the throne of Judea, and declaring independence from the Roman Empire!

I'm speculating. But I do know that this was a common sentiment at the time. That the Messiah would be a political as well as a spiritual leader. And fair enough - if you're going to claim to be the next King David, then maybe you should go and be the king. But Jesus doesn't go that route. He sends John's disciples back to him with the following message:

"Go back and report to John what you hear and see: the blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is proclaimed to the poor. Blessed is anyone who does not stumble on account of me."

Now this isn't just Jesus saying words. He's deliberately referencing Biblical passages about the advent of the Messiah. Because it's not like John is unaware of what Jesus has been up to. But Jesus frames his own actions in a prophecy-fulfilling context to let John know that yes, he is absolutely the Messiah. And this is what that looks like.

I imagine that this would have been a typical argument as the early church started to grow. At first it was pretty much exclusively made up of Jewish people, who would have known about the Messiah and the Bible and all of that. And the first targets for conversion would have been other Jews. But the early church was worshiping a dead man and proclaiming him to be the King of Israel. How does that work? Wouldn't the fact that Jesus was executed by the Romans invalidate any claim that he is (was) the "king of the Jews"? The revolution failed!

So while Jesus' claim is based on the Jewish Bible, it's also a claim based on necessity. There's no other way to explain Jesus as the Messiah, if in fact you are going to say "yes that's who he is". He has to be thought of in a more spiritualized context. Because in a real-world political context, he's the worst Messiah ever.

Recently, I was challenged by a friend to not just "deconstruct" as I went through the Bible, but to "construct" as well. Meaning, don't just rip the book (and the church) apart; find something in there that can be built upon. Something of value. I thought about that and decided "okay"; I'll take up that challenge and see what I can do.

But I have to admit, passages like this one about John the Baptist and messianic expectations make it difficult for me. I'm not Jewish. I don't have that cultural or historical connection. So all of this stuff about the Messiah just leaves me a bit cold. Like I don't care, you know? Not really. I'm not moved by this. It's like the book of Matthew is like a sequel to a movie that I haven't seen.

And I also have to think, is this really what religion is all about? Having to care about stuff like this? I'm sure that doctrinal questions about the validity of Jesus' messianic claims are interesting to some people. And admittedly, at one point I would have been one of them. But now, I just cannot bring myself to give a shit about any of that.

But here's the thing. Do I reject "spirituality"? However that's defined. Some awareness of something beyond the mundane, whatever you want to call it. The answer is no -- no I don't. I don't reject that. Why not? Because I did have a "conversion experience" twenty years ago. And that was something real that happened. Now, I don't mean that it was "real" in the sense that it validated any particular religious point of view. I mean that it was "real" in that I became a changed person within a very short period of time, and this was observed not just by myself but by those around me. It doesn't mean that there was anything supernatural going on; it just means that it was real.

So how was I different? Well -- I became aware of something beyond the mundane. My perspective was altered. And it had a profound and lasting effect on me. But again (just to be clear) this isn't me endorsing any particular religion. It's just me saying "yes, this happened". At the time, there was a group of Christians ready to interpret my experience for me. They provided me with a template, which I accepted and incorporated into my life. So that's the path I went down.

Eventually (as those of you who know me or have read this blog are aware), I turned away from Christianity. And yet here I am, still reading through the Bible. For a number of reasons (one admittedly being "closure"). But one of the big reasons why I keep bothering to do this is that I still feel a connection to something. I can't really describe it beyond that, but I do feel that there is value in trying to figure out what's out there. Even if "out there" is only descriptive of a state of mind.

So, to get back to the "constructing" thing: I don't really know what I would use as a starting point, in terms of something I would read in a book. I mean, this Bible presents all of the answers for its readers (except when it doesn't -- I'm looking at you, book of Ecclesiates). It has a very detailed theological framework in place, and you really do have to be a scholar, or have a lot of time on your hands, to get all of this figured out. It's just a very complex religion. And I guess I just don't feel the need for a complex answer.

Now, I suppose all of that complexity would matter if the claims made in this book were all true. In that case, I'd have no choice but to care about messianic prophecies and doctrine and all of that. But when I think about that -- when I think "so what if this is true?", my immediate response is "are you kidding?". Because the book is a template. A template that was constructed a very, very long time ago. It was constructed to provide meaning to people living back then. Perhaps people who, like myself, had had experiences. Moments of clarity. And all of this Biblical stuff was built around that, in order to provide an interpretation of that experience. To explain it. So while I might be able to resonate with that starting point (if in fact that was the starting point), I don't necessarily resonate with the explanation they gave it.

And really, when you're talking about people living thousands of years ago, they're going to come up with stuff like what we read in the Bible. God lives up in heaven, which is also the sky. Diseases are actually evil spirits, because what's bacteria? Or a virus? For that matter, what's psychology? Or physics? Or anything else that we now know about. I guess the point is this: is a literal reading of the Bible going to bring me to a greater understanding of myself, others, and the world around me? It's somebody else's story. It's not my story. I'm sympathetic to the desire to reach out beyond oneself, but I feel like I need something that takes what we know about reality into consideration, not something that tries to ignore it.

So what can I construct? Based on this book? I'm not sure yet. I'll have to think about that some more.

Next time: I think about that some more?

The Twelve Martyrs

2011-08-03T18:55:00.000-07:00

Last time, Jesus prayed that God would send more people to help with his "kingdom of God" miracle/preaching mission. Well, technically he asked his disciples to pray for that.

So what does Jesus do now? He grabs twelve of his disciples and sends them out. The best way to answer a prayer is to take care of it yourself, right? "Hey, you guys. I have a job for you."

And yes, these are the Twelve Disciples, like the guys from that Last Supper painting. The important ones. Simon (a.k.a. Peter), Andrew, James, John, Philip, Bartholomew, Thomas, Matthew, another James, Thaddaeus, Simon (not Peter), and Dennis.

Okay, the last one is actually Judas. More on him later.

These men Jesus sends out are also known as the Twelve Apostles. Which sounds official and spiritual, but "apostle" just means "someone who's been sent out". But it sounds more impressive if you use Greek words.

And here's what Jesus tells his twelve special disciples before he sends them out:

"Do not go among the Gentiles or enter any town of the Samaritans. Go rather to the lost sheep of Israel."

Who are the Gentiles and the Samaritans? Basically, anyone who isn't Jewish. Gentiles are non-Jews, and Samaritans are sort of half-Jews who don't really count. (For the dedicated among you who've read this whole blog, the Samaritans are descended from the Israelites of the northern kingdom that split from Judah way back when. They later intermarried with the surrounding non-Jewish people and thus became outcasts to the "pure" Jews.)

So what's up with the Jews-only thing, Jesus? What's wrong with everyone else? Who knows; he doesn't explain himself, and his disciples don't question him. All right then.

As for what the disciples are meant to do, basically it's the same stuff Jesus has been doing. Healing people, exorcising demons, raising the dead. You know, that sort of thing. We're told that Jesus gives the disciples "authority" to do all of this. Which is kind of funny. Like they have to get the right security clearance with God before they're allowed to do miracle-y stuff.

Additionally, the disciples are instructed not to bring any money with them, or even an extra change of clothes. Jesus seems confident that they will be provided for as they journey throughout the towns of Judea. Which I guess is the way Jesus did it too, so okay. (Another "does anybody do this?" moment.)

And should the disciples come to a town where they're not welcomed, they're told to "shake the dust off [their] feet" as a sign of God's rejection of that town. Jesus says that it'll be better for Sodom and Gomorrah on judgment day than for any town that rejects his disciples. Now, I'm not sure how saying "no thanks" to the traveling Mormons is worse than raping strangers, but this is the moral heirarchy you sometimes see in the Bible. Offending God is like, way worse than anything else.

I'm also not sure how "better" is an adjective that makes sense when you're talking about the final judgment. I mean, I'm assuming that both the inhabitants of Sodom and Gomorrah as well as these towns are going to be sent to hell, right? So what's better? Or worse? Are there lesser varieties of eternal torment? Like, pitchforks in the ass only on Tuesdays and Thursdays? I dunno.

But then Jesus goes off on a bit of a tangent. As he's describing the disciples' mission, things start to get a bit... serious.

"I am sending you out like sheep among wolves. Therefore be as shrewd as snakes and as innocent as doves. Be on your guard; you will be handed over to the local councils and be flogged in the synagogues. On my account you will be brought before governors and kings as witnesses to them and to the Gentiles."

To the Gentiles? But I thought--

"But when they arrest you, do not worry about what to say or how to say it. At that time you will be given what to say, for it will not be you speaking, but the spirit of your Father speaking through you."

What exactly is Jesus anticipating? And is this meant to be encouraging? At this point, Jesus' disciples have no real reason to believe that things are going to be all that hard for them. Okay, they'll have to depend on others for food, clothing and shelter. But what's all this about being arrested and beaten and put on trial?

Jesus continues:

"Brother will betray brother to death, and a father his child; children will rebel against their parents and have them put to death. You will be hated by everyone because of me, but the one who stands firm to the end will be saved. When you are persecuted in one place, flee to another. Truly I tell you, you will not finish going through the towns of Israel before the Son of Man comes."

Shit. This sounds like it sucks. I mean, we've got BBC miniseries levels of drama going on here. Families torn asunder, people giving one another up to the authorities, all kinds of crazy goings-on. And all because of this Jesus guy.

If I had to guess, I would say that this little speech was a later addition to the gospel, added in to encourage Christians who would have been facing stuff like this at the time. (The gospel of Matthew is generally thought to have been written in the mid-to-late first century, when you had guys like Emperor Nero running around killing Christians for giggles.) Either that, or Jesus is just really good at predicting the future. Which could also be a possibility. I mean, he is Jesus after all.

Jesus still has a lot more to say about what it'll be like for his disciples. Here's one particularly striking bit of encouragement:

"Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both body and soul in hell."

Yikes! Are those the only two options?

Thankfully, Jesus also emphasizes that every single disciple is very important to God, and He is keeping track of what happens to each of them. Which is probably good to know, if you're facing imprisonment, torture and/or death for your faith - God hasn't forgotten about you.

Now, lest you think I'm being entirely snarky, I do want to say that this chapter is extremely sobering overall. Whether or not these are Jesus' original words, the fact is that they were included in this book because they did matter to the people writing it. There was real, honest-to-God persecution of the Christian church happening at the time, and it was probably very scary. Hell, there's real persecution of Christians happening in various places around the world right now. It's a real thing, and it's people like that for whom this book is written.

The clear message here is "perseverance". Stick to your guns. Don't turn your back on your faith (ultimately, on God) when things get difficult. Jesus puts it in pretty stark terms:

"Whoever acknowledges me before others, I will also acknowledge before my Father in heaven. But whoever disowns me before others, I will disown before my Father in heaven."

That really is kind of harsh. I mean, you have someone who's given the option of either denying their faith or being executed in some completely horrible way. Which would you choose? More to the point perhaps, which would God want you to choose? Or to put it this way: if my child were in a situation like this, and in order to go free all they had to say was "I hate my dad," would I be upset at them for doing so? Of course not. I don't think it's necessary to put my kids through that kind of extreme "how much do you love me" test. It's enough that I know that they love me.

So why this "stay true to the death" thing? Would you just feel like a schmuck returning to your community of faith after having denied Christ? Is that it? Is it that one's identity becomes so wrapped up in Christianity that any distinction between the two no longer exists? Not that Christians were the first people to die for their religion, and I'm sure they won't be the last. I guess I just don't understand on a "Father" level how this makes sense.

But Jesus' next words explain the mindset that his disciples are meant to have.

"Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword."

This isn't a call to arms; the "sword" isn't for Christians; it's going to be used against them. Jesus reiterates that he is going to cause divisions among families -- "a man's enemies will be the members of his own household". Even though this isn't "let's go kill the infidels", the distinction between the good guys and the bad guys is just as clearly defined. There are people who follow Jesus, and then there are people who are violently opposed to Jesus. And that's it. There is no middle group that doesn't really care. You are either on Jesus' side, or you're on Satan's side.

To that point:

"Anyone who loves their father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves their son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. Whoever does not take up their cross and follow me is not worthy of me."

This is what life is like for a Christian. I mean, a real Christian. Anything that stands between you and Christ must be set aside. Period. Even if it's your own family. Single-minded devotion to God alone is what is required here. No other priorities. Which is very much in line with what we saw earlier in the Sermon on the Mount. Your life, as a disciple of Jesus, is about following Jesus. The thing about "taking up your cross"? That means sentencing yourself to death. Forgetting about everything you might want on a human level, because you've got more important business to be about.

"Whoever finds their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life for my sake will find it."

This is the requirement.

So! Who wants to be a Christian?

As I've said before, I don't necessarily blame the church for shying away from this extreme level of devotion. (Except inasmuch as it preaches extreme devotion to Christ.) It really is extreme.

Not that the church hasn't been guilty of standing apart from mainstream society and pointing its finger. But that sort of cultural judgmentalism isn't what Jesus is talking about here. He's talking about personal sacrifice. In the context of being out there in the world, living as a Christian among people who are opposed to Christ.

Really, we have no context for understanding the level of persecution described in the book of Matthew. We don't live in China or Sudan or any of these other places where being a Christian actually impacts your life in a negative way. Here it's mostly just bitching about school prayer and whether or not we're going to let the gays marry each other.

Finally, Jesus closes with a few more words about the spiritual rewards for those who welcome his disciples. In fact... it seems like we just went right back to the beginning of his speech. Which really makes this whole message about persecution and death seem like it was spliced right into the text.

Still though, it definitely gives you a sense of what was coming for these people. I can't help wondering though... why? That question still echoes in my head a little. Why all the necessity of standing firm unto death? Sure, it sounds romantic, but in real life it probably sucked a lot. And is it really that important that you continue to proclaim the name of Christ, even as the flames lick around your feet? I don't know. I keep coming back to the fact that there's supposed to be a person behind all of this. A divine person, but still, someone who is meant to love and care for his followers. An actual person. Not just a system of belief, or rules of behavior.

Is this what God wants for us?

Next time: John the Baptist has second thoughts!

The Miracle Worker

2011-07-24T16:05:00.000-07:00

Last time, Jesus offended a bunch of religious people by claiming to have divine authority, and by hanging out with people who weren't religious. This puts Jesus under the microscope a little, and ends up becoming something of a problem for him.

But Jesus' next interrogation doesn't come from the teachers of the Law or the Pharisees - it comes from the followers of John the Baptist. The guy who baptized Jesus and had announced his coming. Aren't they all on the same side? I guess not.

"How is it that we and the Pharisees fast often, but your disciples do not fast?"

"We and the Pharisees." Keep in mind that John the Baptist had condemned the Pharisees as a "brood of vipers" when they came to him to be baptized. He saw them as religious hypocrites and opportunists, and rejected their professed repentance. But now John's followers are apparently feeling a bit left out, so they cast Jesus and his followers as the outsiders.

The basic problem that John's disciples have is: Jesus, how come your followers are acting less religious than anyone else? You're not even fasting! We do that, the Pharisees do that, but you guys don't. How come? The implication being that Jesus is somehow "off" in his teaching; that he's leading people away from devotion to God.

Here's what Jesus says:

"How can the guests of the bridegroom mourn while he is with them? The time will come when the bridegroom will be taken from them; then they will fast."

Jesus seems to think that he's pretty special. "Hey, as long as I'm here, it's a party!" To put it in more modern terms, you don't get all bummed out and serious when you're at your friend's bachelor party. That's when you eat and drink and have fun. But once the groom is off on his honeymoon, that'll be the time to get back to normal life. Sort of. It's kind of a weird analogy, but there's this whole "church as the bride of Christ" idea that's going to be developed in the New Testament, and this most likely references that.

That's it for the disciples of John the Baptist, too. There's no follow-up on this story. Jesus just continues talking:

"No one sews a patch of unshrunk cloth on an old garment, for the patch will pull away from the garment, making the tear worse. Neither do people pour new wine into old wineskins. If they do, the skins will burst; the wine will run out and the wineskins will be ruined. No, they pour new wine into new wineskins, and both are preserved."

What's all that about? Cloth and garments and wineskins? This is what happens when you're 2000 years removed from the time in which the book was written. You have to translate the cultural references as well as the words themselves. So what does it mean?

Basically, don't put something new into an old or outdated context. Don't pour a new drink into an old dirty cup, because that's nasty. It's something like that. Why is Jesus saying this, now? Maybe because he and his followers are defying expectations. Jesus is saying that he's bringing something new to this religion called Judaism, and you can't just plunk the new thing into the Jewish religion as-is and expect it to work. It won't. (Sorry, Jews for Jesus.)

But Jesus' statement is still frustratingly ambiguous. I've heard this passage interpreted in any number of different ways - it refers to us being transformed internally by the Holy Spirit, or old vs. new ways of thinking, or the church itself as a community of faith not beholden to laws, or whatever else. Ultimately: who knows. It's one of those fortune cookie passages that just sits there waiting for someone to find it, and decide that it applies to their life.

After this, Jesus is interrupted by a man who comes to him and asks him to bring his daughter back to life. First question: this is something that can happen? How does this guy get this idea? We're told that he's the leader of a synagogue, so he's a pretty religious guy. So what exactly leads this man to believe that Jesus can raise someone from the dead? I mean, he's done some pretty miraculous stuff already, but this is kind of next-level.

Jesus offers no resistance, however, and goes back with the man to his house. But on the way (and unrelated to the dead daughter), Jesus is touched by a woman who's been "bleeding for twelve years". Eww. I'm not a doctor, but that sounds gross. And this woman doesn't even touch Jesus himself - just his cloak. But (according to Matthew) she believes that she will be healed even if she's only able to touch Jesus' clothing.

Jesus sees this, and tells the woman that her faith has healed her. And she's healed. So is that really all that it takes? Just believing that something can happen? According to Jesus, that's how it worked. This woman really believed that if she touched Jesus' cloak that she would be all better. Despite the fact that Jesus has never once said "hey everybody, touch my cloak and be healed of your diseases." So essentially this woman just gets this idea in her head, follows through on it, and gets rewarded by Jesus.

So what would happen if I believed that rolling around in the dirt would help me lose weight? Would it happen? Would I miraculously drop ten pounds and be able to praise Jesus for rewarding my faith? Or would I just be a big idiot with dirt all over my clothes? I'm just wondering what the rules are. This woman made up a way to get healed, and it happened because she was really sincere about it. I'm wondering because there are people out there doing all kinds of silly things. Does Jesus indulge all of them? Or does he have a threshold where he's like "okay, that's just dumb."

Like I said, just wondering.

Anyway, Jesus eventually arrives at this synagogue leader's house. There's a crowd of people mourning, and even some people playing music. But Jesus tells them all:

"Go away. The girl is not dead but asleep."

Go away? Hey mourners, bugger off for a few minutes if you don't mind. Jesus' words actually make the people laugh. Which is weird. You'd think that they would be more, I dunno, sad or something. Maybe they're just hired mourners.

But Jesus does get everyone to leave the house. Once they're all gone, he takes the girl by the hand and she gets up. And everyone is all OMG about it, and word of her resurrection spreads everywhere.

So was this girl actually dead? I don't think it would be as much of a big deal if she was just sleeping, but that's what Jesus says. Is he a doctor? Does he give her CPR? I've heard this explained as Jesus speaking metaphorically. The girl is "asleep" in the same way that Christians are "asleep" when they die; i.e. awaiting resurrection and not truly, permanently "dead". But still, she would be physically dead, and Jesus would be raising her from the dead. Why would he invite confusion (and the diminishing of his miracle) by claiming that she was really just asleep?

And there's another miracle yet to come! Two blind men start following Jesus, shouting "have mercy on us, Son of David!" You know that's going to get Jesus' attention -- "Son of David" is another way of saying "Messiah".

Hilariously, Jesus doesn't say anything to them until he's come to a house and gone inside it. So these two blind men presumably have to bump their way around, trying to figure out where Jesus went. (Maybe he was trying to lose them.) When the men come inside the house, Jesus asks them if they believe he is able to heal them. Duh, of course they believe he can. So Jesus touches their eyes and says -- again -- that they're being healed because of their faith.

The men's sight is restored, but Jesus warns them not to tell anyone about what's happened. As before, Jesus is completely ignored and the men tell everyone they can find that they've been miraculously healed.

Then yet another person is brought to Jesus. This man is unable to speak, because he's demon-possessed. (I thought being demon-possessed made you yell a lot and say weird stuff? Maybe this is a more introverted demon.) So Jesus drives out the demon, and the man can speak again. Notably, we're told that the crowd says, "Nothing like this has ever been seen in Israel." Ever.

But the Pharisees, who are fast becoming the Slytherins of the gospels, respond to all this by saying that Jesus drives out demons "by the prince of demons". In other words, Jesus is the devil!

If the book of Matthew were a movie, this would be where the montage happens. "Jesus went through all the towns and villages, teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and healing every disease and sickness."

As you might imagine, this keeps Jesus pretty busy. At one point he looks out over the crowd of people around him, and is moved with compassion "because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd". So he tells his disciples to pray that God would send more people to help with the "harvest", because there's a lot to harvest and not a lot of people to do it.

So take heart -- even Jesus felt overworked and wished there were twenty more of him to get the job done.

Next time: Jesus gets twelve more of him!

Jesus vs. the Church

2011-07-23T10:34:00.000-07:00

Last time, Jesus made a storm go away and exorcised a bunch of demons. There's more supernatural stuff yet to come, but this time it gets Jesus into trouble with the religious authorities.

At the beginning of Matthew chapter 9, Jesus comes back to his own town and is greeted by some people carrying a paralyzed man with them. Instead of healing the paralyzed man (which is what you would expect) Jesus tells him "your sins are forgiven."

Why does Jesus say that? Because according to Matthew, Jesus was impressed by their faith. In other words, they believed that Jesus was able to heal this paralyzed man. And that was enough for Jesus to be like "you know what? I'm going to forgive your sins". He only tells the paralyzed man this, however. The guys who carried him there don't get their sins forgiven. (Sorry!)

Now, the thing about living in first century Palestine is that you don't just go around telling people that their sins are forgiven. Because that's supposed to be something that only God can do. And so the religious teacher folks within earshot of Jesus are like "hang on a minute". They think Jesus is blaspheming, which is a fancy word for "saying offensive and wrong stuff about my religion".

But Jesus, being Jesus, knows what they're thinking. So he calls them out.

"Why do you entertain evil thoughts in your hearts?"

Evil thoughts? Can you really blame these people? Okay sure, the teachers of the law are essentially religious fanboys, but they do know their stuff. They know that according to their religion, there's only one God and he's the only one who can forgive people's sins. So what's up with this Jesus guy and his "your sins are forgiven" thing?

But Jesus' next words reveal that this was all a setup:

"Which is easier: to say, 'Your sins are forgiven,' or to say, 'Get up and walk'? But I want you to know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins."

So Jesus turns to the paralyzed man and tells him to get up, take his mat, and go home. Sure enough, the man stands up, gets his mat, and walks off home. (Not even a 'thank you'? Ingrate.) The crowd oohs and aahs, and praises God "who had given such authority to man."

At this point, Jesus is still primarily thought of as a man. A special man, but a man nonetheless. He had to have been "given" authority by God to do what he does. Which is similar to what we've seen in the Hebrew Bible/Old Testament with various prophets, priests and kings. People are chosen by God and empowered to do special stuff, but it's always made clear that the power is coming from God, not the people doing this stuff.

And like some (most) of the Hebrew prophets, Jesus is getting funny looks from the religious establishment. (I wonder what the current religious establishment does with this? Do they ever wonder if they've become the thing that Jesus and his predecessors spoke against?)

Well, now that Jesus has offended the teachers of the law with his theological unorthodoxy, he's about to offend the Pharisees with his acceptance of outsiders. (Reminder: the Pharisees are the religious fundamentalists of Jesus' day, who took the past troubles of Israel as a warning to stay devoted to God and obey all the rules.)

As Jesus is walking along, he sees a man named Matthew (hey, this book is named after him!) who's sitting at a tax collector's booth. Uh-oh. Tax collector! Bad! Right? Yeah, pretty much. Since the Jewish people were under occupation by the Roman Empire, tax collectors like Matthew weren't collecting taxes for the Jewish government -- they were collecting taxes for the Roman government. Which pretty much branded them as traitors in the eyes of most people.

But Jesus stops at Matthew's booth, looks at him, and says "follow me." Without any further explanation, Matthew gets up and follows Jesus. To where? To Matthew's house. The next thing we're told is that Jesus is having dinner with Matthew and a bunch of Matthew's friends. As you might guess, Matthew's friends are other tax collectors, as well as an unidentified group of "sinners". I guess these people don't go to church? Not sure, but they aren't religious.

And this is where the Pharisees come in. They see Jesus sitting at dinner with all of these non-churchy people, and they're either taken aback or thinking "aha!" They ask Jesus' disciples why their teacher would be eating with tax collectors and sinners. Jesus overhears them and replies:

"It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. But go and learn what this means: 'I desire mercy, not sacrifice.' For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners."

Not only is this a slam on the Pharisees (Jesus tells them to go read their own Bible sometime), but it's a condemnation of every self-righteous religious fundamentalist who has stayed away from "sinners" for fear of condoning their sinfulness. I don't know why it is that we still act this way, two thousand years after Jesus told Christians not to. Why is the church so insular that the word "church" itself means "a building that Christians go into"? Why is there Christian music? Christian books? Christian movies? Christian schools? Christian toilet paper? (Okay, maybe not that last one.) Where does this need come from to create a parallel culture, untainted by secular influences? And does all of this make it easier to have dinner with tax collectors and sinners?

I mean, if that's the goal, anyway. After a while, I just throw my hands in the air and say "whatever". I've read so many things in this book that don't match up with what the church spends its time and attention on -- and I'm only nine chapters in! -- that I kind of wonder what the point is. Why even keep the Bible around? The church is self-sustaining without it.

I guess I just like to believe that the book itself should matter, apart from any of the thousands of traditions that prop up the church today. The great irony of course is that Jesus had exactly the same problem with the Pharisees. Not that I see myself as Jesus or a prophet or anything (I'm pretty sure I don't even believe in God), but I just don't get the disconnect. How many times does the book itself have to issue corrections to its followers before the followers start paying attention?

Next time: Jesus does more controversial stuff!

"Son of Man" vs. "Son of God"

2011-06-12T09:01:00.000-07:00

Continuing on with Matthew chapter 8, we see that all of this disease-healing and demon-expelling activity on Jesus' part isn't just him being a nice guy. It's also fulfilling Old Testament prophecy:

"He took up our infirmities
and bore our diseases."

That's from the book of the prophet Isaiah, chapter 53:4. I looked at the footnote for this verse in my Bible (as quoted in Matthew), and it reads "see Septuagint". What's a Septuagint? That's a Greek translation of the Hebrew Old Testament, which most people of Jesus' time used as their Hebrew Bible. So the verse I've quoted above is an English translation of a Greek translation of a Hebrew verse.

Well, why not just flip back to the Old Testament and read the English translation of the Hebrew verse? Skip that whole middle step with the Greek.

Here's how it reads in the Old Testament:

"Surely he took up our pain
and bore our suffering."

That's only the first half of the verse. The rest of it reads, "yet we considered him punished by God, stricken by him, and afflicted". So it's kind of a different reading, isn't it? Anyone at all familiar with Christianity would recognize the theme of the "suffering servant" of God, the man who takes the sins of us all onto his shoulders.

So is that what Jesus is doing? Not really. Not here, anyway. It's odd to me that the author of the book of Matthew would waste a verse like this on something as relatively minor as Jesus' random faith healings. But I get the sense that the author really believed that this is what the verse is saying. At least, in his translation it was saying that.

It kind of muddles the whole "prophecy" thing, doesn't it? But then, even the clearest, most directly referential Old Testament prophecies have to be massaged a little to fit with the details of Jesus' life. It's one of those things that people believe if they've already chosen to believe that Jesus is the Messiah. And yet this verse from Isaiah is referenced here to make people believe that Jesus is the Messiah.

I do wonder how many people become Christians because of things like this. My guess would be "not many". Because what we have is one book with a theological agenda referencing another book with a theological agenda, and using that reference as a proof text. But it doesn't really prove anything; it just highlights the theological agenda.

Back to Jesus: remember that there's a big crowd of people (still!) following him. So they come to the edge of a lake, and Jesus tells everyone to go around to the other side. You got it, Jesus.

At this moment, one of the rabbinic teachers of the Law of Moses approaches Jesus and says, "Teacher, I will follow you wherever you go." In other words, this person is already a teacher (i.e. a rabbi) and he's saying that he wants to become Jesus' student. Jesus responds by saying, "Foxes have dens and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head."

Jesus is apparently homeless. (And likes to refer to himself in the third person.) So okay, mister rabbi, you can follow along. Just understand that it's not gonna be that much fun.

Then another person approaches Jesus; one of his disciples. He says, "Lord, first let me go and bury my father." Jesus' response? "Follow me, and let the dead bury their own dead." Wow, Jesus. That's pretty cold.

You start to get a sense now of just how serious Jesus is about all of this. He's pretty single-minded. When he told his followers that they should "seek first [God's] kingdom and his righteousness", he wasn't kidding. Jesus has no home, and apparently he has no family. Not that his family is all dead, but that they may as well be to him. Remember his parents, Joseph and Mary? Where are they? And what about any other children they may have had? There's no mention of them.

The question for Christians is, is this what you're prepared for? Is this the man you want to emulate? If so, great. But just understand that cutting yourself off from your own family is probably going to be part of the deal. Not to mention any material possessions you may have. And you know, it does make sense, if you accept Jesus' premise. If there's only a slim chance of anyone making it into the kingdom of heaven, and if the only alternative is hell, then yeah you better work your ass off to make sure you're following the path. There's no time for fucking around with mortgages (and the jobs you need to pay for them) or family. Those things will only serve as distractions.

So here comes another "do Christians really follow Christ" moment. Because really, who does this? I mean, it sounds like you'd have to be a monk to follow Jesus the right way. This isn't just, "live your life and be a nice person". It's a pretty radical reorganization of your priorities in life. And yet, the same Christians who essentially just live their lives and try to be nice people would tell you that yes, Jesus is Lord and should be followed and obeyed. So... okay? When does that happen?

It's not as if Jesus has nothing to say on the subject of people who listen to his words but don't put them into practice. We just read it a while back. Those people are building their houses on sand, and eventually a storm will come and blow the whole thing over. Not that I don't understand why people might not want to take such radical steps in their own lives. It's really fine to want a family and a house and stability. I just wish that someone would be honest about that and say "yeah, we aren't really following Jesus, but can you blame us?" Because it gets irritating to hear all this "obey God" stuff from people who have no intention of doing so themselves.

Back to the story. Jesus is sending the crowds around to the other side of this big lake. But he gets into a boat and crosses over, along with some of his disciples. Then all of a sudden a huge storm comes up out of nowhere, and there's gusts of wind and big waves, and everyone's scared. Well, everyone except for Jesus -- he's taking a nap. So his disciples are like "wake up Jesus, we're all going to drown!"

I imagine that Jesus is a little annoyed by this. He says "You of little faith, why are you so afraid?" Which is ancient Palestine language for "you know, I was trying to sleep here." Then he gets up and "rebukes" the wind and the waves, and instantly it's calm again. Which is funny to me; I can picture Jesus' head appearing above the boat and him groggily yelling "cut it out!" like his kids are playing too loud or something.

Of course, his disciples are like "whoa", because Jesus just told the weather to STFU. That's pretty next-level. Though I suppose, so is turning the other cheek and deciding to be homeless. But it does make you wonder if Jesus is playing fair. I mean, if he has special powers, then it's not exactly a level playing field, is it? We're supposed to follow this man and do what he does. How do you keep up with a guy who can make it stop raining?

After the storm, Jesus and friends arrive at the other side of the lake. But wait! Two demon-possessed men (who live in a cemetary, natch) run up to Jesus and shout "What do you want with us, Son of God? Have you come here to torture us before the appointed time?"

Okay, that's a little weird. And what were these guys doing living in a cemetary? (And why would Jesus have landed there in the first place?) As it turns out, these men are "so violent that no one could pass that way". So they've got problems. Nobody wants to go near them. Understandable.

The demons (speaking through the men) then implore Jesus to send them into a nearby herd of pigs, if Jesus should decide to exorcise them. I guess that's where that priest in "The Exorcist" got the idea from. Apparently, demons can jump from one person to another, or even from a person to an animal. And apparently there are a lot of demons inside these two men, because they're suggesting being sent into an entire herd of pigs.

Jesus is cool with this idea, so he says "go!" and the demons jump into the herd of pigs. And then the pigs all run off the edge of a cliff and drown in the water. Bummer for the pigs, I guess. But does that mean that the demons are dead, too? Or do they just go off somewhere else? I'm not really sure how this works. The whole demon possession thing is kind of a new concept at this point in the Bible.

Anyway, the pig herders (pigherds?) see all of this happen, and run off into town to tell everyone else what they've just witnessed. So the entire town comes out to meet Jesus. Is it time for another teaching? Or maybe some faith healings?

"And when [the townspeople] saw him, they pleaded with him to leave their region."

Oh. Okay then. We were just leaving anyway...

They're not too happy, are they? I mean, besides all the freaky shit that just went down, Jesus just obliterated the livelihood of some local pig farmers. Thanks, Jesus! But maybe next time could you send the demons into a herd of earthworms instead? We're kind of screwed now.

And what about the formerly demon-possessed men? What happens to them? It doesn't say. That's the end of the story. But I do wonder about them. If these were real people, they must have had some serious issues. But again, this story comes to us from a pre-scientific time when "demon possession" was a diagnosis that made sense. And the demon-y details get pretty specific here, unlike before. The demons are yelling at Jesus, calling him the "Son of God", and making reference to the final judgment. It's like there's this whole other mythological component to Jesus that we're starting to come into contact with now. Angels and demons battling over human souls, that sort of thing.

I do wonder what any of that has to do with Jesus' actual teachings, which are comparatively far more mundane and earthly. Not that they aren't hard enough to manage without having to deal with the possibility of demon possession as well. Yeah... it just doesn't seem to me like the "blessed are the poor in spirit" stuff matches up with the demon possession stuff. It's almost as if Jesus' story is coming to us from two different groups of people: one favoring a naturalistic (though God-centric) philosophy, and another favoring a supernatural cosmology (the angels and demons).

The funny thing is that you'd think that the supernatural side of things would have been minimized over time, as we've learned more about how things work. But as you know, there are still plenty of Christians who are all about the spiritual warfare, as though the Narnia books were real. I guess you can't blame them. It is in the Bible, after all. And it's not as though Christianity is the only religion to ascribe credit or blame to supernatural beings for the various things that happen in our lives. Even belief in God itself assumes such a point of view.

Next time: Jesus rubs the religious establishment the wrong way!

I Have a Demon Inside Me

2011-06-11T08:47:00.000-07:00

Last time (and the time before that, and the time before that), Jesus laid out his religious manifesto in what we call the Sermon on the Mount. Which took us through Matthew chapters 5-7, if you're following along. Jesus' main focus in this sermon was the responsibilities of the individual believer. Nothing about church or community per se; just a lot about how Christians should live, how they should treat others, what they should prioritize, and so on.

The expectations were set pretty high, too. In Matthew 5:48, Jesus said "Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect." And that's basically it. Be morally perfect. If you aren't, if you don't live up to the standards Jesus is setting forth, then you won't make it into the "kingdom of heaven". In fact, most people won't make it (Christians included). Jesus said so himself.

What strikes me about the Sermon on the Mount is that Jesus offers absolutely no advice on how to achieve this requisite moral perfection. It's not that he's under any illusions about human nature (offhandedly remarking in Matthew 7:11 that his followers are "evil"). So how do you get from point A to point B?

I remember being taught in seminary that the entire Sermon on the Mount was all one big setup. That Jesus was intentionally creating these impossible standards for his followers. Why? So that we would recognize just how far we fall short of the expectations God has for us. Which in turn would hopefully cause us to turn to him for grace and forgiveness, thus allowing us to skip ahead to perfection, rather than earning it.

In other words: Jesus couldn't have been serious. Or if he was, it doesn't really matter because he's eventually going to forgive us anyway.

The problem, however, is that Jesus talked about forgiveness in the Sermon on the Mount. And the conditions attached to it. He explained that nobody would be forgiven by God unless they are able to forgive others. So, was Jesus just kidding? If that's not really how forgiveness works, then why mention it? Why confuse people? Especially when the stakes are so high?

Of course, it would be great if Jesus was just kidding. It would be a lot easier to ignore this whole "Sermon on the Mount" thing altogether. Because we still don't have a roadmap to take us from "evil" to "perfect". So how do we know if this is something we need to be concerned about?

We should be looking for one of two things in Jesus' upcoming statements: either a) some indication that we can ignore his mandate concerning moral perfection, or b) some way to achieve moral perfection. That should tell us if Jesus was serious about all of this or not.

So let's get to it.

At the end of the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 7:29), we're told that "the crowds were amazed at [Jesus'] teaching, because he taught as one who had authority, and not as their teachers of the law." There's a nice little slam on the religious establishment. More of that is coming.

Since Jesus is out and about now, I thought I'd start summarizing the text a bit more, rather than quoting it all verbatim. So if you want to know what I'm reading from, today I'm beginning Matthew chapter 8.

Okay. Jesus is done talking and comes down from the mountain. As you might expect, crowds of people follow. A man with leprosy approaches Jesus and asks to be healed. Actually, he doesn't so much ask as state that Jesus could heal him, if he wants to. Fortunately for the diseased man, Jesus does want to heal him. He reaches out his hand and touches the man, and boom -- he's instantly cured.

Curiously, Jesus follows up by forbidding the man from telling anybody about what's happened. (Despite the fact that a large crowd is following Jesus. And not to mention that since we're reading about this, somebody must have been taking notes.) Jesus tells the man that he should go to the Temple, get himself checked out by a priest, and offer a sacrifice to God as prescribed in the Law of Moses.

But why the secrecy? Because this is what you're supposed to do. Remember? Jesus said not to let anybody know when you help someone out. Don't announce it in the street. Be discreet, keep it to yourself, and let God take the credit.

After this, a Roman centurion comes up to Jesus, also asking for help. (A Roman centurion? Really?) The centurion has a servant who's been paralyzed and is "suffering terribly". Jesus says "so, you want me to come heal him?" But the centurion says "no". Why? Because he doesn't believe himself worthy of having Jesus in his home. Instead, he suggests that Jesus could just say the word, and the servant would be healed.

The interesting thing about this story is that we get a glimpse of what these people believed about the mechanics of miracle-working. You and I might think that Jesus could just zap this paralyzed servant from afar. I mean, it's a miracle, right? But the Roman centurion explains that he's part of a chain of command, and somehow he knows that Jesus is as well. So it's not just Jesus saying "be healed". Jesus' command would actually be handed off to someone, presumably an angel, who would then physically run the message over (albeit invisibly).

Well, this impresses the heck out of Jesus. His response is worth quoting:

"'Truly I tell you, I have not found anyone in Israel with such great faith. I say to you that many will come from the east and the west, and will take their places at the feast with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven. But the subjects of the kingdom will be thrown outside, into the darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.'"

Yeah, he's saying that the Jewish people are going to get kicked out of the "kingdom of heaven" and replaced by non-Jews. Why? Faith, or the lack thereof. So is this the deciding factor, then? We just need to have sufficient faith, and that'll get us into the kingdom of heaven? Or is this an additional requirement that's being added?

"Faith" is kind of a fuzzy word, but stripping away all the religious baggage, it just means "do you believe that Jesus is telling the truth?" Like, do you really believe that? The Roman centurion did. The guy with leprosy did. And that's what Jesus responds to. "Oh, so you think I can do this? Well, you're right." Faith by itself doesn't replace anything; it just means that you're on board.

(And about that Jew/non-Jew thing: Yeah. Pretty harsh, and definitely the kind of thing that would eventually fuel Christian anti-Semitism. But at the time, the author just needed to explain to his audience why the Jewish people weren't following the man who was supposed to be the Messiah. There was a credibility issue.)

Next story: Jesus comes to Peter's house (one of his disciples), and Peter's mother-in-law is in bed with a fever. So Jesus touches her hand, the fever goes away, and she gets up and starts serving him. Um, LOL. (I guess Jesus doesn't always require faith. But he does require a sandwich.)

Later that evening, people from all around bring the sick and demon-possessed to Jesus, and he cures everyone. Okay, cool. But "demon-possessed"? Like, that was just a thing back then? Well, sort of. The word "demon" just means "spirit," so these are people possessed by something that makes them act weird. These are diseased people.

There's obviously a pre-scientific understanding at work here, which makes it difficult to apply this to modern life. We know better than to look at someone having an epileptic seizure and say "oh, that must be a demon." It's an epileptic seizure, and that person should be taken to the hospital, where they can be treated.

I suppose in the context of these stories it doesn't really matter, since we're told that Jesus heals the sick anyway. What difference does it make if the people don't know that "demon possession" falls into the same category? It's just one of those awkward things where the original intent was to convince readers of Jesus' spiritual authority, based on a premise we now know to be untrue.

Which is not, of course, to say that Christians don't believe in demon possession anymore. It's just that the rest of the world has updated its understanding of human physiology, but the church hasn't. Because there's theology at stake here. You can't just write off Jesus casting out demons and be like "yeah those weren't really demons after all". I mean, that'd be lame. Jesus has to have demon-expelling powers. It's part of the gig. Believers depend upon this being true.

But you know, as I've said many times before, the church gets itself into trouble time and time again by lagging behind as scientific discovery takes us forward. It was the same with the earth revolving around the sun, and everything else. The unfortunate collateral damage being the loss of faith in those believers who find themselves caught between the church's teachings and demonstrable scientific truth.

So... yeah.

I'm going to leave off here for today; I'll probably pick it up again tomorrow to finish off Matthew chapter 8.

Next time: More demons, and weather-controlling powers!

Who Gets Into Heaven?

2011-05-29T16:22:00.000-07:00

Last time, Jesus warned his followers not to go around judging other people -- if they did, God would judge them in turn. Using the same criteria.

This is kind of a tough thing to avoid with a religion like Christianity. Because it's not like Jesus is telling people to find their own path. This is an exclusive religion. Meaning, there's one right way, and a lot of wrong ways. So if you're a follower of this religion, you better believe that "not doing it wrong" is going to be on your mind a lot of the time. And once you're doing that, it's all too easy to look at the behavior of others and mentally evaluate them as well.

With that in mind, here comes the exclusivity:

"'Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.'"

This is where Christianity starts to become distasteful to some people. Not that we're opposed to the idea that there is such a thing as right behavior and wrong behavior, or that the way one behaves has some impact on one's spiritual condition. I think most people are fine with that, and in fact would expect goodness to be rewarded, and badness to be punished. Not doing so would seem unfair.

I think the problem lies in the specific criteria used to determine what is right, and what is wrong. If you're going to claim that someone who doesn't do what is right will be sent to hell for all eternity, then I think it's kind of important to define "what is right". What gets you into heaven? What keeps you out?

Maybe before addressing that question, another question should be asked. Namely, why set things up this way in the first place? Why create this absolute, polar-opposite split between where the good people go, and where the bad people go? I think one reason why "heaven and hell" seems weird is that we don't find two easily identifiable groups of people in the world. Yes, there are very bad people out there. And yes, there are some very good people out there. But most of us are somewhere in the middle. Why is there is no eternal option for that middle group?

Well, according to Jesus most of us will in fact be sent to hell. He says himself that only a few find the path that leads to life. So are most of us secretly evil? I think this right here is one of the main reasons why Christianity is appealing to so many people. The religion validates low self-esteem, and the lower the self-esteem, the greater the validation. Do you feel worthless? Guess what -- you are! You're evil and sinful and you smell like poo.

This is also a religion that fosters suspicion of anything resembling "pride". Though the intent is to keep people from arrogance, the practical effect is to diminish any sense of self-reliance or even adequacy. Remember the hymn "Amazing Grace"? God's grace saves the "wretch". This isn't someone who's doing okay. This is someone who's in a bad place, and needs help. Nowadays, we might recommend counseling. Back in Jesus' day, people were encouraged to embrace the shame and identify with it. Is that healthy? Probably not, but if you can keep yourself in God's good graces, everything should be fine. What could go wrong?

Psychology aside, it's important to remember that (despite the practical application of this "few are saved" idea) Jesus is actually talking about the fact that most people just aren't going to live the way he's telling them to. Which is really not much of a surprise. Who turns the other cheek? Who isn't judgmental of others? And so on.

What I often found, when push came to shove -- that is, when Christians were really called on the carpet for their lack of Jesus-y behavior -- is that they would default to "I'm saved by grace". So yes, Jesus has all these expectations of us, but ultimately it doesn't matter because Christians have a "get out of jail free" card. Which, if true, kind of negates everything that Jesus has been saying here.

And as it happens, Jesus is about to address that point:

"'Watch out for false prophets. They come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ferocious wolves. By their fruit you will recognize them. Do people pick grapes from thornbushes, or figs from thistles? Likewise, every good tree bears good fruit, but a bad tree bears bad fruit. A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, and a bad tree cannot bear good fruit. Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. Thus, by their fruit you will recognize them.'"

It might not be immediately clear what Jesus is trying to say here. But basically it's this: there are some people out there who will pretend to be devout followers. When in fact, they're the exact opposite. How can you tell if they're okay or not? By their behavior. In other words, by how well their actions line up with the standards Jesus is putting forth.

This isn't about "grace". This is about simply doing what Jesus says to do. And if you see a Christian who isn't acting like a Christian, then they probably aren't a Christian. Even if they say that they are. We should be able to identify true Christians (as well as false ones) just as easily as we can identify trees by looking at what kind of fruit they bear. "Hey, look, apples. Must be an apple tree." "Hey look, selflessness and humility. Must be a Christian."

Keep in mind that Jesus just got done telling his followers not to judge one another. So this isn't about being judgmental. This is just an objective assessment. For what purpose? So people can know whom to trust. Just like when you're out in the woods and you want to know if it's safe to eat something. (Okay, most of you probably don't have this particular experience very often, but humor me.) You want to make sure that you don't eat something poisonous or otherwise nasty. Similarly, you wouldn't want to entrust yourself to a supposedly righteous person who turns out to be a selfish jerk.

But the real danger in what Jesus is saying is this: Christians want to know that they're "in". They want to know that they've done what is required of them, in order to get their ticket to heaven. After all, it would be pretty unsettling to live from day to day not sure if you're living up to Jesus' expectations. That sounds hard. What's easier is to envelop yourself in a Christian subculture. The sense of acceptance one gains from that community is an effective stand-in for the acceptance Christians might otherwise seek from God. So as long as you conform to that subculture, you can feel safe. Just don't do or say anything that might attract unwanted attention to yourself.

However, Jesus is determined to be a buzzkill:

"'Not everyone who says to me, "Lord, Lord," will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. Many will say to me on that day, "Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name and in your name drive out demons and in your name perform many miracles?" Then I will tell them plainly, "I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!"'"

I think this is why "few" find the way to life. Not everyone who goes around saying "Jesus is Lord" is getting into heaven. Then who does? Only those who actually do what God wants them to do. (As outlined here by Jesus.) And we're not just talking about excluding the slackers who sit at the back of the church. These are hardcore Christians who go around prophesying and performing exorcisms and miracles. All that next-level shit. And Jesus says to them, "Away from me, you evildoers!"

So. If Benny Hinn isn't getting into heaven, then who is? Is anybody? That's the point. The line between the saved and unsaved isn't the line between Christians and non-Christians. It's between those who do what Jesus says, and those who don't.

How about a nice metaphor to bring it home?

"'Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock. But everyone who hears these words of mine and does not put them into practice is like a foolish man who built his house on sand. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell with a great crash.'"

This is often interpreted to mean that we should trust Jesus, and he will be our "rock," and we will be able to weather the storms of life, bla bla bla. No. This means that you'll be fine, if you do what Jesus says. And if you don't, then you're screwed. Whether or not you call yourself a Christian.

And with that, Jesus concludes the Sermon on the Mount, or "Christianity according to Christ". It doesn't sound easy, does it? It's not. And I guess that's why Jesus says that not many people will make it. It's like training to be a Navy SEAL or something. Most people will flunk out. And the bummer of it is, "flunking out" means going to hell for all eternity. Sorry!

This is probably why the message of Christianity that we hear most often centers around forgiveness and grace. What God can offer us. It's not as encouraging to hear that Jesus has expectations of his followers, especially such high expectations.

But let's get right down to it. Am I going to sit here and self-righteously claim that almost all Christians are doing their religion wrong? Well, yes, actually. That is what I'm doing. But why? Why can't I just mind my own business, and let these people live their lives the way they want to?

In case the answer isn't obvious, it's that Christians themselves are notoriously poor at minding their own business. Despite explicit command to the contrary, from the founder of their own religion (whom they believe to be God incarnate, by the way). So from my own perspective, I'm just being a douchebag. Christians who do this are being sent to hell. So hey.

Maybe we could all just learn how to STFU once in a while.

But then what would we blog about?

Next time: Jesus STFUs and does stuff!

No Judging Allowed!

2011-05-22T08:21:00.000-07:00

Last time, Jesus gave his followers a choice: either they could focus on money and getting the things they need, or they could focus on God and spiritual transformation. According to Jesus, the two can't coexist.

So what other "nobody does this" commands does Jesus have for Christians?

"'Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.'"

Yeah, I'm being a smartass. While I don't know any Christians who are literally living day to day (at least, by choice), I do know a lot of Christians who are the least judgmental people you'd ever meet. And by the same token, I've known a lot of non-Christians who are pretty quick to get in your face if they disapprove of your choices or priorities.

But still, say the words "Christian" and "judgmental" and people will know what you're talking about. Not that I think that this is exclusive to Christianity. I think just about any follower of any religion is prone to this sort of annoying moralizing. And like I said, you don't even need to be religious at all in order to be a judgmental prick. But Christianity is the dominant religion in this country, so the association is there for us.

So really, Jesus is cautioning his followers against engaging in a type of behavior that is common to humanity. And he's not just saying "hey, you shouldn't do that". He's saying not to judge others, because if you do God will judge you. Oh. Well, we probably wouldn't want that. No, we wouldn't.

Not only does our judging of others trigger a divine judging of us, but we ourselves will be judged according to the same criteria we used when judging others. Now I'm really sure we don't want that.

It reminds me of what Jesus said before about forgiveness. About how it's conditional. God will forgive you -- if you have forgiven those who owe you. But if you haven't forgiven others, and you ask God to forgive you, he won't do it. First resolve whatever issues exist between you and that person, then come back and ask God for forgiveness.

Jesus follows up with a great visual:

"'Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?'"

Did any of you ever watch that old TV show "Police Squad"? Well, I did. There was a running gag about a guy who worked in the crime lab, who was so tall that his head was always out of frame. One time as he's eating lunch, someone says to him, "hey, you've got some food on your face." He reaches up to wipe his face. "No, the other side." He does so again, and half of a banana falls down. (Guess you had to be there.)

Anyway, that's kind of what Jesus is going for here. A Christian being critical of another Christian -- "oh look, there's a bit of sawdust in your eye" -- while the whole time there's this comically massive chunk of wood jutting from their own eye.

Do you get the point? Yeah.

"'How can you say to your brother, "Let me take the speck out of your eye," when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.'"

This is very much along the same lines as the forgiveness thing. There are things that have to be done in sequence. First, forgive others. Second, ask God for forgiveness. It's the same here: first, address the glaring problems in your own life. Second, get nitpicky with others. Well, I think the idea is that you would never actually get to "step 2" in that scenario, since taking care of your own deficiencies would probably keep you busy for a long time.

Oddly though, this whole "sawdust / two by four" analogy is meant for Christians. Anytime you see Jesus use the word "brother", he's referring to fellow believers. But why would Christians be hyper-critical of other Christians? Maybe it's just how people are. You don't have to be religious to come across self-appointed "defenders of the faith" in whatever group or subculture you might be a part of. But it's particularly obnoxious when you combine a need to be right with religious doctrine.

Jesus follows up with something that honestly, I don't really get:

"Do not give dogs what is sacred; do not throw your pearls to pigs. If you do, they may trample them under their feet, and turn and tear you to pieces."

Here's what I do get: "don't give something precious to those who won't appreciate it". Okay. But why say that? What's the point?

I actually did a little research on this one, and found a bunch of different suggestions. One commentator even pointed out the irony of Jesus moving from "don't judge" to a metaphor in which some segment of the populace is referred to as "dogs" or "pigs".

But maybe this is just another reminder that Jesus is addressing a Jewish audience. Pigs are unclean animals, and back then nobody kept a dog as a house pet. Plus, the "sacred" in "do not give dogs what is sacred" probably refers to leftover meat from animal sacrifices at the Temple. So there's definitely an "outsiders" vibe to this statement.

Maybe the gospel is only for God's chosen people? I dunno.

Moving on:

"'Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.'"

I remember in church being told that this really meant "ask, and keep asking!" (Seek and keep seeking, knock and keep knocking.) Which is true; there's a "present participle" thing happening in the original language, for all you grammar nerds out there. So basically: be persistent in prayer!

Question, though: does this contradict what Jesus said before about not engaging in a lot of meaningless repetition in prayer? And what about that whole "God knows what you need before you ask him" thing? Not that I have a problem with Jesus telling his followers to take some initiative. Apart from anything else, "be persistent" is just a good life lesson.

But how does that apply when we're talking about prayer? Shouldn't we just pray for something once, and have faith that God will answer that prayer? After all, if we're really speaking of prayer as a "request", then I shouldn't have to ask someone twice, or three times, to do something for me, right? (Children and co-workers excepted.) If you're talking to someone who has already expressed a desire to give you what you need, and you say "please can I have this", then they should give that to you.

I have to admit, prayer is one of those things that I have really struggled to understand, the more I've reflected on it. Like I said before, I get prayer as "another word for meditation", because that does benefit us internally (or "spiritually", if you prefer that word). But prayer as a literal request -- the logic of that has gotten really fuzzy to me.

"'Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!'"

So maybe we're not talking about "daily bread" here anymore? Is this where we get to ask for TVs and stuff? It's not clear what Jesus is referring to. I can't imagine that Jesus is suddenly okay with Christians asking God for new cars and better wardrobes. I have to think that "good gifts" would be something that would meet Jesus' definition of "good". Which would probably be something like righteousness or humility. (Thank goodness for Santa Claus; Christmas would totally suck without him.)

Maybe Jesus' point here is that we should be persistent in asking for that which will be "good" for us. That which will make us into the type of person Jesus described way back at the beginning of his sermon. Because it's easy to forget. Hmm. I can't help feeling that somehow Jesus knows what prayer really accomplishes (i.e. internal change in the one praying) and is using it as a way to get his followers to stay focused on what's important.

Oh, and did you notice how Jesus offhandedly said "though you are evil" to his followers? I guess there's an understanding that we aren't starting off from a position of moral superiority, or even adequacy. (All the more reason to refrain from judging others.)

Last bit for today:

"So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets."

Do unto others! The Golden Rule! Including the less-quoted second half of the sentence! Which is the more interesting part to me. I mean, we all know about the Golden Rule. But what strikes me is the fact that according to Jesus, the entire Bible is summed up in that statement.

Really?

All the Abraham and Moses and promised land and killing and... all of that? That's summed up with "be excellent to each other"? Not that I mind the sentiment, or even that that's Jesus' official takeaway from the book. But how do you get that out of the book? If I were going to summarize the Old Testament, it'd be something like "don't fuck with God".

But okay, Jesus. Whatever you say! If the whole point of the Old Testament is "do unto others", then that's fine by me.

And really, that's what the "don't judge" thing is all about. Just treat other people the way you would want to be treated. If you would prefer that people not remind you about everything you're doing wrong, then maybe you could not do that to others. What I like about the way Jesus phrases this is that it's stated positively. Not just "don't be a dick"; that's stated negatively and just focuses on what you shouldn't do. But "do unto others" means actually getting out there and "being the change you want to see in the world."

Next time: Who gets into heaven?

Jesus, God, Money and Christians

2011-05-21T08:51:00.000-07:00

Last time, Jesus defined religious hypocrisy as "putting on a show in public". Making sure that everybody knows (or at least, that the people you want to impress know) how devoted you are to God. Jesus' point was that if you really are devoted to God, you'll just do your thing without making a big deal out of it. In fact, this sort of public display is considered by Jesus to be a dealbreaker, since it's the polar opposite of being meek, poor in spirit, etc. There's no reward for anyone who acts like that.

But what happens when you're part of a social group where "righteous behavior" (or whatever you want to call it) is expected to be normative? To put it another way: when you live in the subculture of the church, there are unspoken (and spoken) expectations placed upon you all the time. Hell, I used to stand on a stage and pray into a microphone every week. Do you think I wasn't keenly aware of the fact that I was performing -- and being judged on that performance -- as much as I was praying? It's just really weird to combine something like prayer with a public performance.

Which is, I think, what Jesus was talking about. The weirdness, I mean. There's an inherent tension there. Why? Maybe because the approval of people and the approval of God are two completely different things. So Jesus says, forget about the public thing entirely. If you really want to pray, go into a room by yourself and close the door. It's spiritually clarifying. (And necessary, according to Jesus.)

Anyway, there's one more thing left to say on that "hypocrisy" point:

"'When you fast, do not look somber as the hypocrites do, for they disfigure their faces to show others they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full.'"

Fasting isn't something that people really do that much, generally speaking. Not eating for religious reasons? I guess there's Lent, but that doesn't really count. Honestly, I never really "got" the whole fasting thing, myself. I did try it a couple of times, but...? I didn't feel any different. Just hungry.

But it was more common in Jesus' day, apparently. As with prayer and charitable giving, fasting is something that can be done privately, or publicly. And Jesus is like, look -- don't go around looking all terrible so people will know that you're not eating. What's the point of that? Again, if your focus is on the people around you (specifically them noticing you), it isn't on God. It can't be, according to Jesus.

"'But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, so that it will not be obvious to others that you are fasting, but only to your Father, who is unseen; and your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.'"

No, you don't need to literally pour oil on your head. (This is what people did in the days before showers and deodorant. Bleah.) But what Jesus is saying is: just look nice. Dress yourself up and pretend that nothing is going on.

Which is kind of funny, if you think about it. Jesus' whole thing here seems to be that acting and pretending are bad. Well, maybe it's not the acting or the pretending that's the real problem. Jesus says that his followers should deliberately conceal their religiosity: give to the poor in secret, pray in secret, fast in secret. To the outside world, they shouldn't appear different from anyone else. And since if Jesus' followers are really living their lives the way he's telling them to, they would actually be different from other people. Which would mean that they're also acting and pretending.

But what matters (to continue the stage analogy) is your audience. Why does Jesus place all these restrictions on his followers? Because it's human nature to seek the approval of your peer group. And it's certainly not human nature to do a bunch of good things and never tell anyone about them. We need that validation from others.

Well, you can't have it. Not if you want a reward from God. Which makes this a real test for Christians. I've not only seen the pressure that comes from living in a church cubculture, but I've also seen how that subcultural identity is trumpeted (forgive the expression) in the public square by Christians who feel threatened by the outside world. None of it leads to a heavenly reward. Because it's all about your chosen audience. Whether you love or hate your audience doesn't make a difference, if they're still the ones you're playing to.

Next, Jesus continues the "earth vs. heaven" theme in a more direct way:

"'Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.'"

There it is. Jesus is making an either/or statement here. Either you like having stuff, or you like having a reward in heaven. It's your choice. And yes, it is "either/or", because you are going to care most about the place where most of your stuff is. Do you want a car? Or a boat? Or a TV? Or any of that? Or, do you want to be humble, generous, selfless, etc.?

Well, that's an easy choice for most of us. Actually, it's an easy choice for all of us. We want the stuff! And we can work on being nice people in our spare time. See? You can have both.

At least, this is how things typically get prioritized for us. Take care of yourself first, and then make sure you "give back" in some way. And really, the giving back part is optional.

I don't know. What else is there to say about this? I'm certainly not going to lecture anyone about materialism. I live in a pretty nice house, and we have a fair amount of stuff. But I think the obvious disconnect here is that it's Jesus saying "get rid of your stuff and change yourself". You know, Jesus, founder of the Christian religion. See all the Christians running around out there? Chasing after stuff, just like the rest of us? That's the disconnect. And that's the part that triggers my "fuck you" response when I'm told that I should be following Jesus.

Again, does anybody actually live this way?

More from Jesus:

"'The eye is the lamp of the body. If your eyes are healthy, your whole body will be full of light. But if your eyes are unhealthy, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light within you is darkness, how great is that darkness!'"

Can't say I really get what he's talking about here. The footnotes in the Bible I'm reading tell me that "healthy" and "unhealthy" have connotative meanings of "generous" and "stingy". But that doesn't really help. "If your eyes are generous"?

Oh wait, I think I get it. Jesus was just talking about treasures on earth vs. treasures in heaven. And whichever one you're most interested in determines your direction. So like, are you "looking" at earth, or at heaven? And so if your eyes are turned toward your stuff, then that will affect the rest of you. The same would be true if you're focused on those internal changes Jesus is talking about. All right.

(I promise I'm not being cute; I really did just think about this as I was writing.)

But maybe Jesus hasn't been completely clear about the dangers of materialism yet. Are we clear on this yet? Not as clear as we're about to be:

"'No one can serve two masters. Either you will hate the one and love the other, or you will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and money.'"

Boom! Isn't it weird when Jesus' words are a "gotcha" to his own followers? And yet, here we are. It's almost as if the Christianity Jesus is describing isn't even the same religion as the Christianity we see today. Maybe it should be called "Churchianity" or something. A different religion, based on Christianity, but with its own expectations and priorities.

Jesus has been spending this whole time describing what his followers should look like. But does anything he's said line up with what we see in American Christianity? Anything at all? And this is the Sermon on the Mount! This is really basic stuff here. Like, fundamental to the religion. And most of it is... what? Set aside? Rationalized? Ignored?

How does that happen? Why even call yourselves Christians? What's the draw?

I could say more, but I think it might actually be better to let Jesus' words speak for themselves:

"'Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes?

"'Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?

"'And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith?

"'So do not worry, saying, "What shall we eat?" or "What shall we drink?" or "What shall we wear?" For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.

"'Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.'"

Amen to that!

Next time: Jesus tells Christians not to be judgmental!

Our Father, Which Art In Heaven

2011-05-18T06:33:00.000-07:00

Last time, Jesus told his disciples to "turn the other cheek". Which goes so completely against human nature that I'm not sure anyone really does this, or even tries it. (You could try it, as an experiment. See the last post for details.)

Perhaps fittingly, Jesus now changes the subject to "hypocrisy". That's a word that gets thrown around a lot when it comes to religious people. We think of religious hypocrites as people who don't practice what they preach. People who tell others that they should be obeying God, while not obeying God themselves.

Here's how Jesus defines religious hypocrisy:

"'Be careful not to practice your righteousness in front of others to be seen by them. If you do, you will have no reward from your Father in heaven.'"

According to Jesus, hypocrisy means putting on a show. Which is actually what the word "hypocrite" means, since it was originally a term for Greek stage actors. Someone who has an artificial public persona, in other words.

So when it comes to religious devotion, Jesus says "don't do it in front of other people". Don't show off. If you do, "you will have no reward" from God. None. All that stuff Jesus talked about before -- inheriting the earth, being called children of God -- that's all gone if you start making a public display of your righteousness. You get nothing.

"'So when you give to the needy, do not announce it with trumpets, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets, to be honored by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full.'"

I think Jesus is trying to be funny here. But this being the Bible, we're not naturally inclined to think that we're reading something that's meant to make us laugh. Can you imagine, though? Some guy walks up to a homeless man on the street and says "Good morning, sir! I am here to present you with -- [trumpet fanfare] -- a shiny quarter!" What a douchebag.

Right? I mean, that's the whole point here. Jesus says that someone like that has already received his reward. He wanted the approval and attention of others, and now he has it. Congratulations! You're a tool.

So what's the right way to do it?

"'But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.'"

There's another phrase in our cultural lexicon that was coined by Jesus. We say "the left hand doesn't know what the right hand is doing" in a negative sense, to indicate a lack of communication. But Jesus' meaning was that we should be so careful not to put on a public display that, well, our left hand wouldn't even be aware of what our right hand is doing.

Jesus then makes the same point about prayer:

"'And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.'"

This all strikes me as a little odd, though. Not that I don't get what Jesus is saying, or why it would be spiritually counter-productive to make a big deal out of yourself. It's just that I'm wondering how this is applicable in our world today.

To be sure, it would be easy to find examples of self-promoting hypocrites in the political arena. But I mean in the world of the church. It's been my experience that a lot of religious people are more measured and self-effacing than one might expect. But there's still a public perception out there of what the church is like, of what church leaders are like.

But maybe that's it. Church leaders. Is there something inherent to spiritual leadership that triggers our subconscious "hypocrite" alarm? I mean, by definition a religious leader is someone who stands between you and the divine, feeding you what you aren't able to get for yourself. They have the connection to God, and you depend on them for whatever it is you need to receive from God.

So maybe there's just something about stepping into that role that makes us call "bullshit". We know that nobody is really any better or more special than anybody else. And I think most people are okay with a religious person who doesn't always live up to his or her own standards. They're just trying to live their own life. But that changes, once that religious person is placed in a position of authority. At that point, there's an expectation that they would, in fact, practice what they preach.

At the very least, the spotlight is shining more brightly on such people. Again, by nature of the role they are accepting. Which is funny, because this really does sound like a performance on a stage. Acting. In other words, "being a hypocrite". Perhaps it's unavoidable.

So, is Jesus condemning religious leaders in general? Well, actually... he does end up doing so. But that's later. Right now he's just making oblique references to "synagogues" as one place where these hypocrites do their hypocritical thing. It's obvious, however, that Jesus sees himself as a religious reformer, and the religious establishment is -- or will soon be -- his target.

Anyway, Jesus still has more to say about prayer:

"'And when you pray, do not keep on babbling like pagans, for they think they will be heard because of their many words. Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him.'"

Interesting point here. Jesus is telling his followers that prayer isn't meant to be a ritualistic activity. Just say what's on your mind. But this is the really intriguing part to me: "your Father knows what you need before you ask him".

Really? Well, sure. He's God; he would have to know, wouldn't he? But then... why ask? If Jesus is going to identify God as "Father", implying that his disciples are God's children, then why is asking necessary? I'm a father. If I know that my kids need something, I'll just get it for them. Now, I won't always know if my kids want something, but that's different. I know what they need, and I try to provide that.

So how does this work, then? Why do we need to ask our Father for the things we need? What if we don't ask? What happens then? Nothing? Do we die? Or is this just an exercise that we go through to remind ourselves that God is in charge of our lives? It would certainly seem that there is something pointless about all of this, in terms of "prayer" actually being a transaction between two parties.

That's the funny thing to me. A lot of what I see about prayer, from Christian writers and such, focuses on how prayer changes us internally. Okay. But is that what prayer is being sold as in the Bible? Is that what it's meant to be? Just another form of meditation? The word "prayer" literally means "request". You know, asking God for something. Is that really what's happening here? Because if not, we can just stop calling it "prayer" and start calling it something else.

Maybe I should just see what Jesus has to say about it.

"'This, then, is how you should pray:'"

Oh, all right then. Maybe this will clear things up.

"'"Our Father in heaven,
hallowed be your name,
your kingdom come,
your will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us today our daily bread.
And forgive us our debts,
as we also have forgiven our debtors.
And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from the evil one."'"

Wait, that's the Lord's Prayer. Which, ironically enough, most of us are familiar with because it's recited verbatim in churches in a ritualistic manner. Even though Jesus had just said that we aren't supposed to pray in a ritualistic manner. Yeah.

So what does the thing actually mean? Well, there's really not much to it. Allow me to break it down a little (normally I wouldn't do this, but I kind of feel like it's necessary in this case):

"Our Father in heaven,
hallowed be your name,
your kingdom come,
your will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven."

This is a straight-up plea for social justice. What it's saying is this: right now, God's name is "hallowed" (revered, honored) in heaven. His kingdom is present in heaven. His will is done in heaven. But that's not happening here on earth. So we're supposed to pray that all of these conditions that currently exist in heaven would be met here as well. In other words, "make earth like heaven". "Heaven" here being defined as the place where God's priorities and values (as described by Jesus) are dominant.

"Give us today our daily bread."

Kind of awkwardly worded, but it's just a daily prayer for the essentials. God, give me what I need today. And that's all that is said here about our needs, at least our physical needs. It's short and to the point.

"And forgive us our debts,
as we also have forgiven our debtors."

A conditional statement? Yes. You mean we can't just ask God to forgive our sins, without also having forgiven other people? Correct. Why don't they tell us that at church when they want us to come forward to accept Christ? I dunno; it complicates things.

"And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from the evil one."

As before, "the evil one" could also just mean "evil". Kind of a strange thing to ask for though, isn't it? "Hey God, don't tempt me with evil stuff." "Uh, okay. No problem."

I mean, could you imagine God being like "man, I was totally going to tempt Bob to sin, but now I guess I won't"? That's just not the kind of thing that would even occur to God, is it?

I don't know. Is it, Jesus? You tell us.

Well, there is the fact that a few chapters back, God led Jesus into the wilderness to be tempted by Satan. So, he did actually do that. To Jesus, no less!

So maybe we need to revise our understanding of God a little here. Even so, Jesus is specifically telling his followers to ask God not to do that to them. "Trust me guys, it sucks." All right, then.

And here's more about that conditional forgiveness thing:

"For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins."

Just to be clear on that point. I like how Jesus comes back to that, knowing that that's the part people would be like "what?" about.

And it really does complicate things, doesn't it? Because it's not just about us and God anymore. Well, it is, but it's about our part of the agreement with God. We like the part about God forgiving us, no doubt. But forgiving others is... ugh. It's just messy. Not only do people tend not to ask for forgiveness in the first place, they also tend to keep doing the same shit over and over again to us.

And sure, it's not like anyone enjoys holding a grudge. We all know that those negative emotions end up doing more damage to ourselves than to anyone else. But it's really kind of difficult to not be like "wow, what an asshole" when you think of someone who's wronged you, and who doesn't seem to care or even be aware of it.

It's all so intangible. Even using the word "debtor" as Jesus does makes it sound like forgiveness is a transaction that can occur (or not occur). If you forgive someone's debt, you officially write it off. They don't have to pay you back anymore. It's done. But how does that work on an emotional level? Or is that even what Jesus is talking about?

Maybe he is talking about literal transactions. If someone (literally) steals from you, just let it go. Don't try to get your stuff back. Don't sue them. Don't call the cops. And that does fit with what Jesus was saying before about "turning the other cheek". Maybe it's us who have turned the idea of forgiveness into an emotional exercise.

After all, you can forgive somebody's debt and still think they're an asshole for never paying you back.

I wonder if that's how God feels about us.

Next time: Materialism!

Turning the Other Cheek, And Other Revisions

2011-05-16T22:48:00.000-07:00

Last time, Jesus got pretty strict with his disciples. After explaining that the Old Testament would remain in effect for Christians, Jesus then made it even more difficult to follow. "Thou shalt not kill"? You can't even get angry at a fellow believer. And "thou shalt not commit adultery"? You can't even think about having sex with another woman. (Assuming that you're a male who likes the thought of sex with women in the first place.)

This is where Jesus stays for a while. Reinterpreting the Old Testament law according to what he believes its true intent to be. But why? Why is this necessary? Why couldn't God have just told Moses back then what Jesus is saying now? Why allow centuries to go by before offering a clarification? Wouldn't this have been important information for the ancient Israelites to have?

Not to get unnecessarily uptight about this or anything. I mean, okay, Jesus is helping his followers to internalize the Old Testament law. That's not really changing anything per se. But what if Jesus does change something? Would that be weird? I guess we'll have to see.

"'Again, you have heard that it was said to the people long ago, "Do not break your oath, but fulfill to the Lord the vows you have made." But I tell you, do not swear an oath at all: either by heaven, for it is God’s throne; or by the earth, for it is his footstool; or by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the Great King.'"

Back in the olden days, God told his people that if they were going to say "I swear to God I will do X", then they should go ahead and do X. Don't misuse God's name by swearing by him and then not following through. But now Jesus is saying, "you know what? forget about that whole 'swearing' thing." I guess it's just not working out.

But here's the awkward part. Jesus had just said that "anyone who sets aside one of the least of these commands and teaches others accordingly will be called least in the kingdom of heaven". He just said that. Did Jesus just break his own rule?

"'And do not swear by your head, for you cannot make even one hair white or black. All you need to say is simply "Yes" or "No"; anything beyond this comes from the evil one.'"

The evil one? Like, Satan? Well... maybe. Greek is a funny language sometimes. Jesus could have just been saying "evil" in a more general sense. But still, "evil"? It's evil to swear an oath? Now come on. If it's really that bad, then surely God wouldn't have allowed his people to go around oathing it up for the past 1500 years or whatever. But he did; it's right there in the law. Jesus just quoted it. So does this count as "setting aside a command" yet?

I mean, Jesus is walking a pretty fine line here, isn't he? He's the one who told us that the Old Testament law is still valid. He's the one who warned his followers against disregarding even the smallest commandment. And now he starts going through the Old Testament law, saying "well, you don't really have to do this anymore"? What's that about?

"'You have heard that it was said, "Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth." But I tell you, do not resist an evil person.'"

This is probably the most significant reversal in Jesus' sermon. We've all heard this next part before in some form:

"'If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also.'"

Turn the other cheek. As a kid, I always used to think that "turning the other cheek" meant turning away from a fight. Like, if someone hits you, you're supposed to walk away. But this goes way beyond that. If someone hits you in the face, turn the other side of your face toward them -- so they can hit that side too! What the fuck?

Now, I defended the "eye for an eye" principle in the Old Testament. I was like hey, these laws are forming the basis of these people's society, and there's nothing wrong with having a punishment that is proportionate to the offense committed. Which is what "eye for an eye" means.

But Jesus is acting like "eye for an eye" is an individual moral principle. An endorsement of retribution. And he's rejecting it completely, in favor of "let someone beat the shit out of you". I have to say, I'm not sure how popular that one's gonna be.

I mean, look. I get the whole Jedi thing about being peaceful, not starting any trouble, all of that. Okay. But surely there's some middle ground here. Jesus is almost literally telling his followers that they should let people walk all over them.

You think I'm kidding?

"'And if anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, hand over your coat as well. If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with them two miles. Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you.'"

This is "How To Be Exploited 101". If someone sues you, give them more than they're asking for. If someone makes you do something for them, do twice as much. If anyone asks you for something, give it to them. Let anyone borrow anything they want from you.

How is this a good idea? Yes, I understand selflessness. Yes, I understand that material possessions are ultimately meaningless. But just imagine someone who actually lived this way. Could you? Perhaps more to the point, do we see anyone who lives this way? Shouldn't there be plenty of examples of this behavior for us to observe every day? After all, this country is full of Christians. Maybe I should go to a church and start asking for stuff. I wonder how that would work out.

Why am I picking on Christians again? Two reasons, actually. First, this is Jesus addressing his disciples, explicitly telling them how to live. So it's not like this is an unfair expectation on my part. This is the religion, folks. Either do it or don't.

But second, I don't really expect anyone to live this way. However, I'm still told that it's important to follow Jesus. I'm still told that I should be following Jesus. Well, you know what? If I may say so -- fuck you, I should be following Jesus. You should be following Jesus.

You know what I mean?

Okay, stepping back from the ledge of Pete's baggage:

"'You have heard that it was said, "Love your neighbor and hate your enemy." But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven.'"

Does it really say "hate your enemy" in the Old Testament? No; Jesus is just summarizing. It does say "love your neighbor", though. Oddly enough, the original Old Testament verse also tells us not to hold grudges or seek retribution. Oh, but that's only for other Israelites. Anyone else can get bent.

Which is the part that Jesus changes. Don't hate your enemies (i.e. "anyone who isn't you"). Love your enemies! Like, really love them. Pray for them. You know, "ask God to bless them". That sort of thing.

But why should we? (If the question can be asked.)

"'[God] causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.'"

There it is. We shouldn't play favorites, because God doesn't play favorites. Of course, this is the same God who spent the entire Old Testament choosing people (and rejecting others). Which is kind of what "playing favorites" is.

But hey -- bygones. God's turning over a new leaf, according to Jesus.

"'If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? And if you greet only your own people, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that?'"

Now I'm kind of wondering where Jesus was when the Old Testament was being written. I mean, the guy has a point. How are you better than anyone else if you only like the people who either a) like you, or b) are like you? Right? Anyone can do that. The hard part is to reach out to people who are different from you.

(Insert marginalized-by-the-church people group here.)

"'Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.'"

I suppose this would be the inevitable conclusion. Just be perfect already! I mean, that pretty much is what Jesus is asking of his followers here. Absolute moral perfection. Well, depending on your definition of moral perfection, that is.

However, the comparison to God is a bit weird to me. Because, okay -- I'm sure God doesn't sin or do anything wrong. But does he know what it feels like to "turn the other cheek"? Like, to really do that? Does he understand powerlessness?

I remember the answer to this was always "well, that's what Jesus is for". Jesus, being God in the flesh, finally allowed God to understand what it was like for humanity. But really? He's still Jesus. He could call in a favor anytime he wanted to. It's not like he's ever really powerless, is he? Not really. Even the crucifixion -- he lets it happen. (Spoiler alert.)

Next time: Self-righteous hypocrites!

Murder, Adultery, and Divorce (and Hell)

2011-05-14T07:41:00.000-07:00

Last time, we saw that (according to Jesus), the Old Testament is still a valid part of the Christian instruction manual. So, no cheating with those greatest-hits Bibles that only have "Psalms and Proverbs" plus the New Testament. You have to include the whole thing.

And speaking of the Old Testament:

"'You have heard that it was said to the people long ago, "You shall not murder, and anyone who murders will be subject to judgment."'"

Why, yes; I have heard that, as a matter of fact. This is straight from the Ten Commandments, the first part of the huge book of laws handed down to Charlton Heston, I mean Moses, from God himself on Mount Sinai.

But... doesn't that commandment actually read "thou shalt not kill", not "don't murder"? Not to be nitpicky, but "killing" and "murdering" aren't exactly the same thing, are they? Well, it's funny. The Old Testament actually does say "don't kill," but as we all know (those of us who've read the Old Testament, anyway), there's killing aplenty in the Bible, much of it sanctioned by God himself. So it would seem that in the intervening years between the writing of the Old Testament and Jesus' speech, it was decided that some clarification was needed on that point.

So this is what Jesus is talking about: "don't murder anyone". Okay, Jesus. No problem! That doesn't sound too difficult to manage.

But wait -- it's all a setup!

"'But I tell you that anyone who is angry with a brother or sister will be subject to judgment.'"

Oh, I get it now. Jesus only brought up the Old Testament to let us know that he's way more hardcore. Not only are you not allowed to murder people, but getting angry at people is forbidden too! (Does this mean that "killing" is off the table again?)

But wait. Being angry? That's just as bad as murdering someone? Really? Welcome to Jesus, folks. He doesn't make it easy for you.

Before I get to that, however, I do need to clarify one thing. See that "brother or sister" bit up there? That actually means "fellow disciple" in the original language. (Why not just translate it as "fellow disciple", then? I dunno, lol.) So again, just for context, Jesus is talking to people who are his disciples, and he's saying that you people -- you disciples of mine -- are in just as much trouble when you're angry with one another as when you murder someone.

So again, here's a lesson for the church. Are you a Christian who's angry with another Christian? You should probably go ahead and kill them, because according to Jesus you've already done so.

Pretty harsh. But really, Jesus? Really?

Yes, really.

"'Again, anyone who says to a brother or sister [i.e. "fellow disciple"], "Raca," is answerable to the court.'"

Raca! Huh? What's that mean? According to the footnotes in the Bible I'm reading, it's "an Aramaic term of contempt". So there you go. If you're a Christian, and you call another Christian a dumbass, you're screwed.

So... does Jesus actually want people to become Christians? Because it seems to me that the easiest solution here is to just, you know, not be a Christian. That gets you out of this whole thing. But I guess once you're already on board, it's too late. Sorry, guys! Didn't read the fine print, did you?

Oh, and just in case Jesus hasn't been crystal clear yet:

"'And anyone who says, "You fool!" will be in danger of the fire of hell.'"

Whoa. Hang on a second. Did he just say "hell"? Like, the "H" word? Fire and brimstone, demons poking you in the ass with pitchforks, all of that? I mean, it's one thing to say "being angry is the same as killing someone". Okay; I can see what Jesus is going for with that. Focusing not just on external compliance with the law, but also on internal motivators. I get it.

But "hell"? You're in danger of going to hell if you call someone an idiot? I guess so.

It's funny, though; as soon as you bring up "hell", all conversation grinds to a halt. I mean, what else is there to say after that? Hell is the ultimate "you're wrong". It's the trump card of Christian theology.

Which brings me to a funny story. If you're at all aware of the goings-on in American Christendom, you may have heard about a controversial new book by a Christian pastor named Rob Bell, entitled "Love Wins". (Hey, it's not often that I get to be topical, okay?) The now-(in)famous catalyst for the book was Bell's dismayed reaction to an anonymous Christian's defacing of an art exhibit, which had been set up at Bell's church. What happened? Well, there was a quote from Gandhi on one of the pieces, and this anonymous Christian had written next to it, "Reality check: he's in hell."

And so, Bell is inspired to write this book that essentially calls that premise into question. Is Gandhi really in hell? Do any of us know this for sure? Well, of course Gandhi is in hell, according to Christian theology. There's not really any question of that. But what this book represents is a Christian leader's moment of clarity on two points: one, the Christian doctrine of hell is fucking obnoxious; and two, nobody really knows for sure if any of this is true at all.

As you can imagine, these are dangerous realizations. And the reaction has been predictable. Theologically conservative Christians have been quick to dismiss Bell entirely. Theologically liberal Christians have been quick to defend him (or at least his right to his opinion). And still other Christians have entered "damage control mode" as they try to reconcile Bell's appealing humanism with the reality of their own teachings.

And here's the punchline: in this very passage that we're reading right now -- the first time we see the word "hell" in the New Testament -- Jesus is warning his followers about the danger of getting angry at other Christians. Ba-dump tssh!

Now, the Bible nerd in me wants to go off on a big tangent about how the word Jesus uses here is actually "Gehenna," which refers to a physical location in Israel and isn't necessarily the same thing as "hell" as we conceive of it today. But you know what? It doesn't really matter. Jesus' whole point is "hey, maybe you should try to avoid that place", which Christians can easily do by just not being dicks to each other.

However, Jesus anticipates that his followers might have some difficulty applying that principle in their lives, so he provides some helpful examples:

"'Therefore, if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother or sister ["fellow disciple"] has something against you, leave your gift there in front of the altar. First go and be reconciled to them; then come and offer your gift.

'Settle matters quickly with your adversary who is taking you to court. Do it while you are still together on the way, or your adversary may hand you over to the judge, and the judge may hand you over to the officer, and you may be thrown into prison. Truly I tell you, you will not get out until you have paid the last penny.'"

So here's the takeaway: Christians, if you're at church and you remember that you were a dick to somebody last week, get up and leave. Yes, right now. I know it's your favorite song, but you need to leave now. Go make things right, then come back and finish singing.

Also, settle out of court.

Continuing on:

"'You have heard that it was said, "You shall not commit adultery."'"

Oh come on, Jesus. We're going there now? And here I was, hoping that we'd be able to get through this sermon without another lecture about who goes in your pants.

"'But I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart.'"

Yep, the same standard applies here as well. It's not enough to say "I don't sleep around"; you can't even check a woman out without being guilty of a sexy crime. And of course, this only applies to men. Though hilariously, I suppose gay men are off the hook.

"'If your right eye causes you to stumble, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell. And if your right hand causes you to stumble, cut it off and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to go into hell.'"

Well, that's extreme. And oddly, it seems to miss the point, if Jesus is really talking about our internal motives. Because it's not like gouging your own eyes out is going to make you stop thinking about sex. (Well, it might for a while. You'd probably be thinking "oh my God, I just gouged my own eyes out".)

So really, what's the takeaway here? Assuming that Jesus isn't literally encouraging Christians to mutilate themselves in order to cure their problem with lust. What are his followers metaphorically meant to cut away from themselves? The internet? Their hot neighbor? Cosmopolitan magazine?

See, none of that addresses the issue of "freedom from lust". Guys will always have access to porn as long as they have their imaginations. If we're talking about removing the desire for sex, then the only real solution is castration. That's where testosterone comes from, and testosterone is what makes men want sex. Otherwise, it's just a constant battle against one's own hormones.

Of course, this is all ridiculous. But this is the problem with combining sexuality and morality. Our species didn't survive all these millennia by not wanting to reproduce. This isn't going away.

However, that's not to say that there should be no intersection at all between sexuality and morality. Are there inappropriate expressions of sexuality? Absolutely. Rape is wrong. Molestation is wrong. Any coercive sexual act is wrong. But that's not what Jesus is talking about. He's talking about "wanting sex", period. So it's kind of a missed opportunity here, in my opinion. Jesus paints with such broad strokes, lumping all extramarital sexual activity into the same category, that he only ends up making people feel ashamed of their own sexuality. Which, you know, can lead to the kind of inappropriate sexual expressions I just listed above. Bummer.

Last one for today:

"'It has been said, "Anyone who divorces his wife must give her a certificate of divorce." But I tell you that anyone who divorces his wife, except for sexual immorality, makes her the victim of adultery, and anyone who marries a divorced woman commits adultery.'"

"Except for sexual immorality". Well, thank God for that caveat. Because I was all set to think that this is a totally backwards rule. Let's clarify what's being said here:

If a man (yes, "man") divorces his wife, and she hasn't been cheating on him, then he's committing adultery against her. But what if he hasn't been sleeping around? What if he's just tired of her shit? It doesn't matter; it's adultery. He may as well have been sleeping around, because in Jesus' eyes, it's the same thing.

So, men: if you don't want to be married anymore, go ahead and have an affair. It won't make things any worse.

Again, the broad strokes kind of obscure any meaningful distinction that might be made between "honest separation" and "abandoning your spouse". It's weird, because Jesus himself makes an allowance for divorce if there's been marital unfaithfulness. But is that really all there is to marriage? It's just about who you're having sex with? I mean... that seems a bit shallow, doesn't it? Sure, sex is awesome and fantastic and all of those things. But long-term relationships are also about other things, like friendship and commitment. Does that not matter?

And this thing about "anyone who marries a divorced woman commits adultery"? It's just more of the same thing. It's like an adolescent's understanding of marriage. "What's marriage? That's where you get to have sex." But then, that's also the Christian understanding of marriage. By roping off sexuality and saying "it's only for marriage," that in effect reduces marriage to "the thing where sex happens". Does that lead to a greater appreciation of all that marriage can be? Judging from the divorce statistics among Christians (they're the same as for non-Christians), I'd have to say no.

Well, this has been a long one. (Dangit, I almost made it through this whole post without a single "that's what she said" joke.)

Next time: I swear I shall have my revenge! Or not.

What About The Old Testament?

2011-05-07T21:42:00.000-07:00

So far, Jesus has laid out some characteristics of what his followers should look like, albeit indirectly. As he highlights people who are "poor in spirit" and "meek" and "pure in heart", he's painting a picture of the type of person who would be noticed and rewarded by God. (In implicit contrast to the type of person who would be noticed and rewarded by us.)

As a matter of fact, it would seem that God is very interested in people like this. It would even seem that God is pinning all of his hopes upon them. Jesus' follow-up claim that his followers are "the salt of the earth" and "the light of the world" indicates both that change needs to come to the world, and these people are the only way for it to happen.

So the stakes are apparently pretty high. But what are the stakes? It's a fair guess that it has something to do with the "kingdom of heaven", but we don't really know what that is yet. Nor do we know how you get into it.

And as for Jesus' followers -- what would they be expecting? Everyone listening to Jesus is probably Jewish. Jesus is Jewish. All of this stuff that Jesus is saying, is being said within the context of Judaism. But still, he's introducing some new concepts. Or perhaps a different approach. So lest anyone think that Jesus is trying to start a new religion, here comes his big caveat emptor:

"'Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets [the Hebrew Bible]; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them. For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth disappear, not the smallest letter, not the least stroke of a pen, will by any means disappear from the Law until everything is accomplished.'"

Well, that's pretty clever. Jesus isn't here to abolish the Old Testament (though nobody would have called it that at the time); he's here to fulfill it. In other words, he's saying: "No, it's not irrelevant; it all points to me, so it's totally relevant!"

Still though, there's an interesting choice of words here. The Old Testament will be valid "until heaven and earth disappear", or "until everything is accomplished". So he's not really saying forever, is he? I mean, if Jesus had left it at "until the end of the world", then I think we could have said, "okay he means forever". But then he says "until everything is accomplished", which is different. Like there's a plan unfolding, which will one day be... done? And I guess after that point, the book won't matter anymore.

But until then, it does matter. So Jesus is officially and explicitly tying himself to Judaism and its sourcebook. Sorry, Gentiles! You have to read II Kings too.

Even so, Jesus might not be that worried about it:

"'Therefore anyone who sets aside one of the least of these commands and teaches others accordingly will be called least in the kingdom of heaven, but whoever practices and teaches these commands will be called great in the kingdom of heaven.'"

So if you go around saying that the rule about not wearing cotton/poly blends is kind of dumb, guess what: you're the biggest loser in the kingdom of heaven. But wait... "in the kingdom of heaven"? Not, "screw you, you can't get in at all"? You're still allowed to be a part of the special kingdom club. You'll just be the guy who cleans up everybody else's shit or something.

Still though, you're in! Who cares if you're "least" in the kingdom of heaven? How bad could it be?

Of course, however, the big rewards go to the people who teach others to obey the Old Testament laws (and who follow the laws themselves). Which is kind of a bummer. I mean, there are a lot of laws in the Old Testament. And some of them are pretty ridiculous.

Not to mention the extreme amount of theological baggage that this now saddles Jesus with. Everything confusing or contradictory or just plain off-putting about God that you might find in the Hebrew Bible is now part of Christianity as well. You have to obey that God.

Oh well. What can you do? Jesus said it's all still valid, so I guess it's all still valid.

(Even the thing about not eating shrimp? Dammit.)

Moving on:

"'For I tell you that unless your righteousness surpasses that of the Pharisees and the teachers of the law, you will certainly not enter the kingdom of heaven.'"

Now wait a second. This sounds like Jesus is raising the bar again. But is he? Who are the Pharisees? Are they super-religious people? At the very least, it sounds like it'd be pretty impossible to be more righteous than the teachers of the law.

Quick explanation: the Pharisees were a Jewish sect who believed more in the biblical prophets than in the Jewish priesthood. They were big fans of the Law of Moses, but (like the prophets) they also had their own official interpretation of it. Kind of like how the Catholic Church believes not just in the Bible, but in its own teachings as well.

So what's Jesus' angle here? Is he saying that the Pharisees and religious teachers are models of spirituality, and you have to do even better than them? Or is he implying that they don't have a clue, and that the way into the "kingdom of heaven" isn't what people might normally expect?

That'll have to wait until later. For now, all we know is that according to Jesus, there's a right way and a wrong way to follow this religion. And either Jesus' followers are doing it wrong, or the Pharisees and teachers are doing it wrong. ...Okay, you can probably guess which one it is.

So far, Jesus' teaching has been a lot like that of the Old Testament prophets, who were big on individual devotion to God. Meaning, "don't get so caught up in the religion that you lose sight of the kind of life you're supposed to be living". Meaning, "don't be a self-righteous asshole". There should be a connection between what you say and what you do. And that connection should come from within.

And yes, if you've been paying attention you'll realize that everything still comes down to obeying the law. That's not going away. (Jesus just said so.) It's just easier if you're internally motivated.

Next time: Murder! Adultery! Divorce!

The Bible and Osama bin Laden

2011-05-02T20:27:00.000-07:00

Since nobody (read: everybody) has offered any thoughts on Osama bin Laden's death yet, I figured "what the heck, I'll post something". After all, I do have my own blog. That's what they're for, right?

So by now we've known for about a day that Osama bin Laden is dead. (Still pretty stunning, isn't it?) And everyone's spent the day thinking through what this means for the world (at least, if you're anything like me that's what you've been thinking). I have my own thoughts about the event, but they're pretty much just "my thoughts". Nothing really worth writing about.

But what I found interesting was the differing reactions among people who would self-identify as Christians. Some echoed the general public sentiment by celebrating bin Laden's demise. Others were a bit more reserved, acknowledging that while he was definitely an evil man, maybe we shouldn't be so quick to dance on someone's grave. And still others were downright uncomfortable with all the jubilation and high-fiving.

So which is it? I asked myself. Wouldn't there (or "shouldn't there") be some kind of consensus among Christians regarding the appropriate response to this man's death? But then I immediately thought of the difference between the Hebrew Bible (the Old Testament for Christians) and the New Testament. You all know the line: the Old Testament God is wrathful and violent, whereas the New Testament God is loving and peaceful.

Well... that's a major oversimplification, if you ask me. However, there is some truth to it. And here's where I think that grain of truth comes from: the Hebrew Bible was written by a group of people whose national identity revolved around their chosen deity. The other nations had their own gods, and Israel had, well, "God". Think of it like mascots for sports teams. Really powerful, smitey mascots.

So you have this entire book that takes for granted the notion that God himself created their nation and is the one holding it together. It's his baby. And naturally, it behooves the people in that nation to do what God says. Otherwise, the smiting happens. As for anyone outside your borders, screw them.

But then there's the New Testament, which shows us a very different community of faith. The early Christians had all grown up in another religious or cultural environment. That is to say, none of them started off as Christians. There was no Christian "nation" to be born into. These were, for the most part, adult converts to a brand-new religion. And there wasn't any space for them in society just yet.

They certainly didn't get any help from the government (that being the Roman empire), which eventually decided that what these Christians needed was a good killing. And so, the New Testament also presents a very different perspective on what God means to his people. Whereas the ancient Hebrews looked to God as their warrior-king, the early Christians understood God more as the secret hope of their underground movement. (A movement desperately in need of more followers.)

So by combining the Hebrew Bible and New Testament together, you end up with these radically divergent ideas about God smooshed together in the same book. Is God (for instance) the kind of Person who does battle on behalf of His people, slaughtering hundreds, even thousands of people because they are His enemies (and thus, the enemies of His people)? Or does God encourage love and compassion, even prayer for those who intend evil toward His people?

The answer is "yes".

We often see this tension expressed in our national conversation about the role of religion in society. Some Christians think of America as a modern-day Israel, and what matters most is our obedience to God on a national level. Our laws need to be His laws. Our values need to be His values. As a society. And if we get to that point, then we win. "Onward Christian Soldiers" and all that.

Then there are other Christians who see the rest of the world as one big "Roman empire". In this view, Christians take a more Zen approach and focus on spiritually transcending the evil of the world (since physically defeating it is impossible). What matters most is being more loving, being more humble, being more aware of the plight of others. (I believe "Kumbaya" would be the appropriate song for this group.)

So we end up with this strange mixture (and co-existence) of Old and New Testament in our American Christianity. Which you can apply to just about any issue you can think of. Including "what is the appropriate response to the killing of a terrorist mastermind".

However, it gets even more complicated. Going back to the Old Testament, Proverbs 11:10 reads, "When the righteous prosper, the city rejoices; when the wicked perish, there are shouts of joy." Then Ezekiel 33:11 reads, "'As surely as I live,' declares the Sovereign LORD, 'I take no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but rather that they turn from their ways and live.'" Both Old Testament verses.

As for the New Testament, I won't give away spoilers (ha) since I haven't officially blogged through it yet. But I can tell you that even Gentle Jesus, Meek And Mild gets his ass-kicking boots on before it's all done. All of this, again, in the same book. And this is before you have Old and New smooshed together.

So as it turns out, there's something for everyone to hang their hat on. Do you think bin Laden is an evil fuckhead who needs to rot in hell for all eternity? There's a verse for that! Do you think our grotesque celebration of his death is evidence of humanity's sinfulness? There's a verse for that, too! I guess that's one reason why the Bible is so popular. It's able to accomodate so many different points of view.

So what's a Christian to do? I guess just pick the part of the book that fits your own sensibilities. Or, you could just have your own sensibilities without requiring validation from an external source. Ultimately, it amounts to the same thing.

Salt of the Earth, Light of the World

2011-04-30T11:34:00.000-07:00

Last time, we got an introductory overview of what God values in people, according to Jesus. Who catches his eye? "The poor in spirit". "Those who mourn". "The meek" (i.e. humble). "Those who hunger and thirst for righteousness". "The merciful". "The pure in heart". "The peacemakers". "Those who are persecuted because of righteousness". These people are "blessed" (i.e. happy), because God will reward them.

Do you wonder what a person like this would look like? I've been thinking about that. For one thing, Jesus has to go out of his way to say that these people are happy. Because this is not a list of qualities that one would naturally associate with "happiness," as we typically understand it. We're happy when we get something, or someone. Not when we give up something, or lose someone. But this is what Jesus prioritizes.

The other thing that comes to mind is, to what extent do these priorities line up with what we see in Christians? I mean, not to be a dick about it or anything. But does this make you think of the church? I naturally thought of people like Gandhi or Mother Teresa or Martin Luther King Jr. Sure, two of those people were Christians. But I think what distinguished these people was their willingness to sacrifice their own "happiness" for the sake of others. As in, to really live that way.

But it's harder for me to see the connection to a larger organization. Perhaps because what Jesus is talking about applies on an individual level. You don't need to have anything or anyone else in order to live as one of these "blessed" people. Which is kind of the point. These are people who have nothing, who are lacking in the things we all want to have. And those are the people who capture God's attention, according to Jesus.

Which leads to Jesus' next point:

"'You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled underfoot.'"

As I mentioned last time, Jesus isn't addressing a crowd of random people here. He's talking with his "disciples," i.e. those people who've decided that they want more from Jesus than a healed leg. They're here to learn from him.

So that's the "you" here. Jesus is talking about his followers. You are the salt of the earth.

But okay. "Salt of the earth"? We all know what that means. Good, honest hardworking people. Usually from small towns. This is one of the many expressions of Jesus that has entered our cultural lexicon. So it takes a little effort to remove that, and get back to what he actually meant.

So what does he mean?

Well, he's just been talking about all these "blessed" people. Humble, poor in spirit, merciful, wanting to be right with God, and so on. Jesus is aware of the fact that people like that would stand out in a crowd. Because most people just aren't like that. They have their own lives and their own concerns, and really that's what most of their attention and resources go toward. In short: people are basically selfish creatures.

But what happens if the "blessed" people start acting like everybody else? Well, then they lose what makes them unique. They lose what makes them reflect God's priorities and character. And so at that point, they're useless. Jesus makes sure the point is taken: "It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled underfoot."

This seems to be a one-way street for Jesus. "How can [salt] be made salty again?" I guess it can't. So the moral of the story is, don't lose your saltiness. Because if you do, you're fucked.

Really, though? I mean, what if someone has a change of heart? Does that work? Like, let's say that someone starts off being humble and selfless. But then they decide that what they really want is to be rich and powerful. But one day they find themselves unsatisfied, and want to go back to being humble and selfless again. Can that happen?

Well, of course it can happen. But maybe the question is, "is it likely to happen?" We'll have to wait and see, though. Jesus has a lot more to say yet.

"'You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.'"

So that's the point of all of this. Getting other people to think that God is cool, based on what they observe in Jesus' followers. But if I can ask the obvious question... how has that worked out for the church? I mean, really? I know a ton of people from all walks of life who all tell me essentially the same thing: "I'm interested in Jesus, but the church turns me off." And these are atheists, agnostics, people of another religion, even Christians. I've heard this over and over again.

So what happened? What went wrong? Why is the church so unattractive to outsiders, to the very people who should be basking in the light of this "town built on a hill"? I dunno. Maybe it's just that it's become an institution. Institutions exist to perpetuate themselves. Which is, on a corporate level, the equivalent of the person who spends most of their attention and resources on themselves. In other words, not the kind of person that Jesus calls "blessed," who will be rewarded by God.

Maybe that's it. Ultimately the church isn't that different from any other human institution. It's not "salty". It doesn't stand out in any unique or unexpected way. Instead, it stands out for being essentially the same as any other organization. With the added bonus of hypocrisy, because it's telling the rest of the world that they should be listening to Jesus.

But you know what's crazy? This is the entire point of what Jesus is saying. "You (plural) are the salt of the earth." Jesus' followers are the salt. The church, in other words. This is a warning not to individual followers of Jesus, but to the church as a whole. If the church is not standing out by modeling and encouraging this "blessed" life, then it has lost what makes it distinct from the rest of the world. Which makes it worthless. Salt that isn't salty belongs in the garbage can, as does a broken lightbulb. As does a church that no longer attracts the outside world to God.

Well, shit. That's pretty dire. But really... is it that shocking? Not if you're outside the church. Not if you already threw out your nasty salt that doesn't taste like salt anymore. Maybe it would come as a surprise to the salt itself, to realize that it's been rejected because it has nothing to offer. I don't know. Again, that's the thing about institutions -- they have the ability to perpetuate themselves, which makes it more difficult to distinguish between forward motion and running on a treadmill.

But at this point I have to ask myself, "how important is this, really?" I mean, all of this stuff about whether or not the church is doing what Jesus wanted it to do.... Does it matter? I mean, look. We have the book here. I'm reading it right now. If you want to do what the book says, then go ahead and do that. You don't need to worry about what some big building down the street is doing with its time. They can look after themselves. At least that's the conclusion I eventually came to.

Well, that's Pete's Thoughts On Church for today. There's probably going to be a fair amount of this sort of thing, since Jesus himself spent a fair amount of his own time making a distinction between God and his official representatives on earth. Should be a fun time!

Next time: So what about the Old Testament?

Blessed Are The Who?

2011-04-29T21:40:00.000-07:00

Like I said last time, I've already read through the first four chapters of the first book of the New Testament -- the Gospel of Matthew. In summary: "Jesus is special".

a) He's a descendant of King David.
b) He's conceived by the Holy Spirit (a.k.a. God).
c) He's given gifts by wise men.
d) He's a threat to the current Jewish king.
e) He's baptized by John the Baptist.
f) He's tested by Satan himself!

Do you know what all of that means? It doesn't really matter. What matters is that Jesus is very, very special. As long as you get that, I think we're good.

But first, a little background on Palestine in the first century A.D. (I'm supposed to say "C.E." to be politically correct, but that just sounds lame.)

The Jewish people are living in their ancestral homeland -- part of it, anyway. Hundreds of years ago, their nation had been invaded and they'd all been taken into exile. They eventually returned, sort of. Only one tribe of the original twelve remained intact: Judah, a.k.a. "Judea" as the Greeks called it. (The book's written in Greek.)

The people of Judea had since been passed around from one empire to another, until finally (by the time Jesus came along) they were under the authority of the Roman empire. As you would expect, there's some political tension there, since Judea is essentially being occupied by Rome. So that's one of the big "hot button" issues of the day.

In the midst of that, here comes Jesus with his message:

"Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near."

That's basically his whole thing right there. "Repent!" Get right with God. Why? Because "the kingdom of heaven is near."

Which means... what, exactly? Like, an actual kingdom? Or something metaphorical? And what about "near"? Does he mean "coming soon", or "close by"? Does "heaven" mean what we think it means, or does it just mean the sky? Is there a difference?

You can see the problem we're going to have with this book. Not that there aren't confusing passages in the Old Testament as well. But there's something about reading the words of Jesus that makes you think, "okay, this should matter somehow." Like, this is an important person and he has important things to say.

But that's the problem. It becomes so important to figure out what Jesus means that we often end up getting bogged down in pedantic, fanboyish arguments and lose sight of what we're trying to learn in the first place. (This is called "seminary".)

I'll do my best to avoid that. Because, bleah.

But there is one more thing I need to mention about that. If what Jesus has to say is so important, isn't it equally important to make sure that this book (which tells us what he says) is accurate? What if it isn't? Wouldn't that undermine everything?

Short answer: Yes, it would. But here's my thought. Regardless of the reliability of this book, this is still the book that billions of people around the world take as the record of Jesus' teachings. So from a practical standpoint, it doesn't really matter to me. This is it.

All right, then. Matthew chapter 5:

"Now when Jesus saw the crowds, he went up on a mountainside and sat down. His disciples came to him, and he began to teach them."

Do you get the feeling that Jesus just wanted to be left alone?

By this point he's already got a number of followers. (That's what you get for healing people.) So he sees this big crowd, and... he leaves. But his disciples follow him. So there's some context. Jesus is talking to the people who've made the effort to follow him up this mountain. And also, if you're familiar with the Old Testament (or at least "The Ten Commandments"), the scene totally gives off a "Mount Sinai" vibe.

"[Jesus] said:
'Blessed are the poor in spirit,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are those who mourn,
for they will be comforted.

Blessed are the meek,
for they will inherit the earth.

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
for they will be filled.'"

When you get right down to it, the whole purpose of religion is "inner peace". And that's exactly what Jesus is selling here. When he says "blessed", he doesn't mean that in some vague, churchy way. He means that you'll actually be happy -- that you actually are happy, right now. Despite the fact that your present reality doesn't match up at all with your eventual destination. The spiritually impoverished will inherit a kingdom. Sad people will feel better. Humble people will be given the world. People who want to be right with God, will be.

But Jesus is also riffing on that basic karmic idea of being rewarded according to what you've done, or who you are as a person. That if you're sincere (or sincerely screwed), then things will somehow be returned to you as a sort of mirror image of what you've experienced. It seems right and fair that the universe should treat us this way. And it works as a theology because it allows for the existence of evil in the world.

"'Blessed are the merciful,
for they will be shown mercy.

Blessed are the pure in heart,
for they will see God.

Blessed are the peacemakers,
for they will be called children of God.

Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.'"

The "mirror image" metaphor kind of breaks down here. You have merciful people receiving mercy, but then "the pure in heart... will see God." Well, we already knew that. That's Old Testament 101. And there's kind of the same thing with the "peacemakers" being adopted as God's children. And then Jesus talks about people being persecuted for their faith?

"'Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.'"

Jesus really goes off on a tangent here. This is one of those places where I could say "this part was written later on by someone who wanted to provide encouragement to the early church." For the simple reason that the early church was persecuted pretty badly, and certainly would have been at the time this book was written. But again, this is what's in the book. Sure, there's really no reason why Jesus would be talking about religious persecution at this point, but there it is. So okay.

Oh, and in case you didn't catch it, Jesus is a total hippie. "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God"? Let's remember that "peace-makers" are people who actually care enough about peace to "make" it happen. So there's some effort involved there. Presumably not involving the shooty-shooty bang-bang.

Jesus even goes so far as to identify "peace-making" with God himself. (Keeping in mind that Jesus, and everyone listening to him, is in fact Jewish and would have understood the Hebrew idiom "children of _____".)

Really, this entire list is a window into God's moral priorities, according to Jesus. Which is kind of weird, considering that for most of the Old Testament, God is all about the fighting and the killing.

There's a lot more to the Sermon on the Mount, but it'll have to wait until next time.

Next time: Salty Lighty People!

Jesus Christ!

2011-04-23T14:06:00.000-07:00

It's been almost six months since I've last posted. I know I left a lot of people hanging by leaving off right as I was coming to "the good stuff," as one of my friends put it. But every time I would think about starting up again, I would read my last post and wonder if there was anything more that needed to be said.

I still feel that way. And yet... I also feel an unresolved tension that's been nagging at me. Maybe it's just that I never did finish going through the Bible, as I'd originally intended. Maybe it's that my life continues to be impacted by a church that I've left behind a long time ago. (It's probably that.) Or maybe I just need an outlet.

Whatever it is, I think I am going to start again.

For those of you who might be new to this blog, that means I'm going to read through the entire New Testament - cover to cover - and blog my thoughts about what I'm reading. (No, really.) If you've ever been curious about what Jesus actually said, or what his followers thought about him... well, here you go.

Truth be told, I've already started the New Testament. Or at least I had, six months ago. But that's okay, because the next chapter is the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus' first big teaching to his followers. So if you're starting now, you really haven't missed anything. Just the opening credits.

I'll be continuing with the book of Matthew soon.

This Would Have Been About Matthew 5

2010-11-06T06:57:00.000-07:00

I was sitting here at my computer this morning, ready to continue with the Gospel of Matthew, when the funniest thing happened.

I realized that I just didn't care.

When I started blogging through the Hebrew Bible / Old Testament, I was in a bit of a desperate situation, spiritually speaking. My faith was in crisis, and I needed to redefine it for fear of losing it altogether. And as I continued through the book, I found more and more not that the Bible was "wrong" per se, just that it was... an ordinary book.

And that was perhaps more devastating to my faith than any critique of the book could have been. I had always been taught to believe (and had believed myself) that the Bible was the inspired and inerrant Word of God. But what if it isn't? What if it's just a book? Well, by the time I got to the last book of the Old Testament, that was exactly the conclusion I had come to.

I didn't think the Bible was worthless or should be thrown out, or anything reactionary like that. I just thought it was a book. Like any other book. Some people might like it, some people might not. As for me, I realized that it was no longer something I needed in my life to be the person I wanted to be.

So here I am, four chapters into the New Testament. Today was going to be about the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus' first big teaching to his followers. And I just don't care. It's not relevant to me anymore. That whole world of Christendom, within which Jesus (or at least some idealized version of him) hovers over everything like in "The Truman Show", just isn't something I want to be a part of anymore. I always felt like Jesus mattered, like he had to matter, regardless of anything else I might believe. But even that was a vestige of my former life. Which I've finally realized is no longer "my life".

It's taken me some time to admit that fully.

So what now? Honestly, I don't know. I would like to keep writing, but I have to find something I want to write about. If and when I find that, I'll return to this blog. Or maybe start another.

Until then...

The First Temptation of Christ

2010-10-24T19:40:00.000-07:00

Now that Jesus has been baptized, he's all set to start preaching. Almost! First he's got to pass a test.

"Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the desert to be tempted by the devil."

So who is this devil guy anyway? That might seem like a stupid question -- we all know who the devil is. Red guy with horns and a pitchfork, cloven hooves. Probably has a mustache. But there's really not been much mention of this guy in the Bible thus far. His most notable appearance was in the book of Job, where he showed up to accuse Job of not being sincere in his commitment to God. And that's where the word "Satan" comes from: "satan" is the Hebrew word for "accuser". And now in the New Testament, we get the word "devil" which comes from "diabolos", the Greek word for... pretty much the same thing.

So that's the guy Jesus will be facing. But it's not the kind of epic spiritual battle you might be expecting or hoping for. It's really more of a theological debate. Which is okay too, I guess.

"After fasting forty days and forty nights, [Jesus] was hungry. The tempter came to him and said, 'If you are the Son of God, tell these stones to become bread.'"

Kids, don't try this at home. Not eating or drinking for 40 days will make you dead. So let's just assume that the "forty days and forty nights" thing is meant to represent something more metaphorical. Like "however long God wanted it to happen". This whole story has a major Joseph Campbell vibe to it anyway, so let's not sweat the technical details.

So all right. Jesus is hungry. (I'd imagine so.) And here comes the devil, saying "hey Jesus, why don't you turn those rocks into food, since you're supposed to be the son of God." I mean right? He's got super powers and stuff. Come on, Jesus! Make yourself a sandwich!

But Jesus says "no". How come? Because:

"It is written: 'Man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.'"

That's from the book of Deuteronomy, in case you're wondering. So okay, Jesus knows his Bible. Well done, Jesus. Though I'm not sure why he has to say "no" to eating, just because of that verse. You can listen to God and eat at the same time. Maybe it's because it's Satan telling him to do it, and Jesus doesn't want to listen to anything he says. Fair enough. I mean, he is Satan, after all.

Next, Satan takes Jesus to the Jewish Temple in Jerusalem. They go up onto the roof, and Satan tells Jesus to jump. Same as before -- Jesus is supposed to be special, it's not like God is going to let him die. Right? Satan even quotes the Bible to make his point:

"For it is written:
'He will command his angels concerning you,
and they will lift you up in their hands,
so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.'"

No problem, Jesus! Throw yourself off the building! You'll be fine! But Jesus again says "no", because:

"It is also written: 'Do not put the Lord your God to the test.'"

Sure, Jesus could jump off the Temple and find out if God would save him, but he's not supposed to test God like that. He should just trust that God would save him, if it ever came to that.

The funny thing about this is that Satan isn't wrong, Biblically speaking. The passage he's quoting is from Psalm 91, which is one of those "follow God and nothing bad will ever happen to you" psalms. That's a message we see pretty often in the Hebrew Bible. Your devotion to God is a shield, protecting you from harm. Literally. And you don't get more devoted to God than Jesus, right? But according to Jesus, his Bible quote overrides Satan's Bible quote.

So what is Jesus quoting that's so special? It's the book of Deuteronomy again. There was a time when the wandering Israelites complained to Moses that they didn't have any water. They were worried that God wouldn't take care of them and they would die in the desert. So they demanded that Moses intercede, which he did, and God provided water. In the book of Deuteronomy, that's "putting God to the test." Not trusting that he'll provide for your needs, and manually intervening on your own behalf.

But wouldn't throwing yourself off a building be an indication that you were trusting God to take care of you? I don't know. I think the bottom line here is "I'm not going to do something stupid and hope that God will cover for me." Which is probably a good way to live your life. So, okay.

As a side note, I can't help but think of all the different groups of Christians who are all convinced that their reading of the Bible is the correct one. When even Jesus and Satan are disagreeing over Scripture... well, it just makes the whole exercise seem a bit pointless. Like, is there even "a correct reading", or is it all just Biblical cover for whatever point you're trying to make? That certainly seems to be the case here, for both parties.

Moving on to Satan's third and final temptation:

"Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor. 'All this I will give you,' he said, 'if you will bow down and worship me.'"

Well that's a bit obvious, isn't it? Duh, of course you don't worship Satan. Especially when you're Jesus. But perhaps this is a Messiah-specific temptation. Being promised all the kingdoms of the world, that is. That's like the big prize for being the Messiah. And Jesus could have it all now! All he has to do is sell out to the devil. And now that I think about it, that does seem like a better deal than ruling the world after you've been crucified. But Jesus comes through:

"Jesus said to him, 'Away from me, Satan! For it is written: "Worship the Lord your God, and serve him only."'"

Another Deuteronomy quote. I guess Jesus likes that book. But this one was totally easy anyway. (Hello, Ten Commandments.)

And that's it! I guess Satan does go "away", because after that it says that angels attended Jesus. Now he can finally start preaching.

"When Jesus heard that John had been put in prison, he returned to Galilee. Leaving Nazareth, he went and lived in Capernaum, which was by the lake in the area of Zebulun and Naphtali."

These details are important, believe it or not. Why?

"[This was] to fulfill what was said through the prophet Isaiah:
'Land of Zebulun and land of Naphtali,
the way to the sea, along the Jordan,
Galilee of the Gentiles—
the people living in darkness
have seen a great light;
on those living in the land of the shadow of death
a light has dawned.'"

Despite the eye-glazing list of place names, it's actually fairly impressive that Matthew is this familiar with the Hebrew Bible. Even the place where Jesus settles down is given a prophetic thumbs-up. Just to make it completely, absolutely clear that Jesus is The Guy. And here's his super important message:

"Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near."

Granted, that's the condensed version. But still, it's a pretty standard "get right with God" message. Though that bit about the "kingdom of heaven" is new. Don't worry; there'll be plenty more on that later.

Jesus also gets himself some disciples at this point. Four guys, all of them fishermen. He tells them that he will make them "fishers of men", and this sales pitch is so effective that they immediately leave their boats and come follow him. Two of the guys actually leave their father behind as well. Like, in the midst of getting ready to go fishing. Which is kind of a tool move -- at least they could find someone else to help their dad out before taking off like that.

But apparently Jesus is attracting a lot of attention from a lot of people. This is how the chapter ends:

"Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues, preaching the good news of the kingdom, and healing every disease and sickness among the people. News about him spread all over Syria, and people brought to him all who were ill with various diseases, those suffering severe pain, the demon-possessed, those having seizures, and the paralyzed, and he healed them. Large crowds from Galilee, the Decapolis, Jerusalem, Judea and the region across the Jordan followed him."

It's funny how Jesus preaches this spiritual message, and people respond by bringing all of their problems to him. Like, is that what Jesus is saying? Sure, he heals people and stuff, but is that the point? I think it says a lot about what people typically want from religion. God is just a big repairman in the sky, and people have stuff that they want repaired. I'm sick! I'm in pain! Fix me! And oh yeah, I guess there's something about repenting or whatever. But seriously, fix me.

In case you've been wondering when we would actually get to stuff Jesus said, that's all coming in the next chapter. Chapter 5 begins the Sermon on the Mount, which sounds very official but just means "that time when Jesus said stuff on a hill." And that's going to be chock full of blog fodder.

Next time: Jesus says stuff on a hill!

As I Went Down in the River to Pray

2010-10-17T13:37:00.000-07:00

So here we are, with adult Jesus about to begin his ministry in the region of Galilee. Before we get to that, though, there's one thing I forgot to mention last week, about the stable where Jesus was born. The thing is: Jesus wasn't born in a stable in the gospel of Matthew. He was born in his parents' house, in Bethlehem. There was no inn, no innkeeper, no "sorry, we're full, go have your baby in the barn". That's all from the gospel of Luke. As you can tell, the Christmas story that we know today is a smooshed-together version of the different accounts of Jesus' birth. But in the gospel of Matthew, it's just a) Mary becoming pregnant before she's married, b) Joseph being told by an angel that this kid is a Special Boy, and c) a visit from some foreign guys with prezzies two years later. That's how it goes down here.

Not critically important, I know, but I'm particular about these things. So anyway! Let's get on with it.

In Matthew chapter 3 we're introduced to a guy named John the Baptist. And no, he wasn't a fat white guy in a cheap suit. John the Baptist was a bit of an ascetic, living out in the wilderness, making his own clothes and eating bugs and such. Okay? So why is he important? This is why:

"This is he who was spoken of through the prophet Isaiah:
'A voice of one calling in the desert,
"Prepare the way for the Lord,
make straight paths for him."'"

That's from Isaiah chapter 40. And once again, the events surrounding Jesus' birth and life are given divine significance by being linked to the Hebrew Bible. Since, as I've mentioned before, the gospel of Matthew is written with a Jewish audience in mind. (A Jewish audience that Matthew wishes to convert to Christianity, that is.) So here we see the prophet Isaiah foretelling the ministry of John the Baptist. Although the passage quoted above came from a then-current Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible. Translating Isaiah 40:3 directly into English from Hebrew gives us this:

"A voice of one calling:
'In the desert prepare
the way for the LORD;
make straight in the wilderness
a highway for our God.'"

So it's kind of the same, except that the "desert" and "wilderness" in Isaiah is where they're supposed to build a road for God to travel upon, not the location of the guy who's telling us about it. In other words: Isaiah 40 is about the restoration of Israel, using the desert and road metaphor to indicate that God is once again coming to live in Jerusalem. And everything will be happy again. So in a general sense, that fits with what's going on here, since Jesus is meant to be the Messiah and the sign of God's favor upon his people. But using this passage to predict that one day there will be a crazy guy who lives in the desert...? Kind of not really what it's saying.

All right then. What does John the Baptist get up to all day? He can't just be out in the middle of nowhere doing nothing, right? Well, he's called "the Baptist" because he baptizes people in the Jordan River. It seems that he's a bit of an old timey revival preacher. "Confess your sins and be baptized!" That sort of thing. And as it happens, John the Baptist has quite a following. People are coming out to the Jordan from all around, confessing their sins and being baptized in the water.

But why "baptism"? Why dunk yourself in the river? What's the purpose of that? Matthew doesn't tell us; he assumes that we already know what baptism is. Though to be fair, "baptize" is just the Greek word for "dunk", more or less. So I guess the meaning would have been obvious to anyone reading this gospel in the original language. In terms of the symbolism involved, well, you could guess. Water symbolizes cleansing, going under and coming back up symbolizes new life, that sort of thing.

(I could take this opportunity to speak about the issue of baptism in the Christian church -- when you should do it, how much water you need to get on you, etc. But really, who cares.)

So as John the Baptist is doing his baptizing thing, along come some Sadducees and Pharisees to be baptized as well. Who? These are two different, and opposing, Jewish sects. (The Sadducees were more involved with the Jewish Temple and the priesthood, whereas the Pharisees were more concerned with rabbinic law and tradition. In other words, they bickered a lot about who was right.)

But here's what John the Baptist has to say about both groups:

"You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath? Produce fruit in keeping with repentance. And do not think you can say to yourselves, 'We have Abraham as our father.' I tell you that out of these stones God can raise up children for Abraham. The ax is already at the root of the trees, and every tree that does not produce good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire."

Well, shit. Clearly, John the Baptist has that whole "street corner preacher" bit down pat. He doesn't like anybody. But if you look at what he's saying, you can see Matthew starting to lay out his case for Jewish conversion to Christianity. "Hey guys, just because you're part of 'Israel' doesn't mean you're one of the chosen people. You have to live right, not just act like it." Which isn't a new message; we've seen that before in some of the prophetic books in the Hebrew Bible. But John the Baptist completely dismisses Abraham's lineage (i.e. "being Jewish") as providing no spiritual advantage whatsoever. It's like none of it matters at all anymore. All bets are off.

But that's why they call this the "New Testament" (i.e. "new covenant"). God's existing covenant with Israel has officially reached its expiration date, according to John the Baptist, and Matthew. And here's what the new covenant will look like:

"I [John] baptize you in water for repentance. But after me will come one who is more powerful than I, whose sandals I am not fit to carry. He will baptize you in the Holy Spirit and in fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor, gathering his wheat into the barn and burning up the chaff with unquenchable fire."

Put another way: "God is no longer fucking around." Of course, I don't know a time in the Bible when that wasn't the case, but now it's really for serious. Jesus will baptize you in the Holy Spirit! and fire! And all of the rejects (the "chaff") will get thrown into fire too. Fire for everybody! Except the fire for the good guys is the kind that doesn't kill you. (More on this metaphor later.)

And the Holy Spirit! He's the guy who impregnated Mary. And King David mentioned him back in Psalm 51, when he asked God to be merciful and not take it -- Him -- away. More on the Holy Spirit later as well.

So now that John the Baptist has announced to the crowd that he's just the precursor to someone even more important, who should come walking up but Jesus himself. And he wants John to baptize him as well. John, knowing his New Testament theology, objects to this on the grounds that Jesus is sinless and has no need to repent. (In fact, he correctly points out that he's the one who should be baptized by Jesus.) But Jesus tells him that it has to be this way. Why? Here come Jesus' first words in the New Testament:

"Let it be so now; it is proper for us to do this to fulfill all righteousness."

So what does that mean? "Fulfill all righteousness"? Is this for appearances? Does Jesus need spiritual purification? (Cue theological debate.) Honestly, I have no idea. I never knew what this meant. But it doesn't matter -- John shrugs and says "okay," and baptizes Jesus in the river. Here's what happens next:

"As soon as Jesus was baptized, he went up out of the water. At that moment heaven was opened, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and lighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, 'This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased.'"

So Jesus gets dunked, and gets out of the river right away. (I guess people usually hung around for a bit before leaving?) Right then the Spirit of God (you mean "Holy Spirit" right?) descends onto Jesus, like a dove. Like... the way a dove lands on your head? I don't know. The clouds part, a ray of light shines on Jesus, and divine power is imparted. Something like that.

But then there's the voice! God speaks from the clouds! I don't think he's done that since Moses and the Ten Commandments. I guess this is to make sure everybody's crystal clear on what's going on here. "He's a Very Special Boy, you know!" But I wonder who's hearing this voice. Because we're told that Jesus is the one who sees the Holy Spirit descend. Or is it John the Baptist seeing it? So is this voice only audible to Jesus, or John? Or is this more of a public address?

I mean, I'm just thinking that if everybody heard this voice, Jesus should have little difficulty convincing anyone who he is. And really, if God's speaking from heaven (i.e. "the sky"), you'd think that people in a pretty large radius would be able to hear this voice. But then they wouldn't know to whom God was talking, unless they were present with John and Jesus at the time. Perhaps a lot of people felt special that day.

And that's the end of that story! After Jesus' baptism, he's led into the wilderness to be tempted by Satan himself! (Spoiler alert: Jesus wins.)

Next time: The devil goes down to Galilee!

We Three Kings of Orient Are...

2010-10-10T09:53:00.000-07:00

...a couple of years late. Chapter 2 of the gospel of Matthew gives us the famous "wise men" story, but as it turns out, they don't even get to see Jesus until he's a toddler. He's not even living in a barn anymore. Just some regular old house.

But it's not the wise men's fault. They saw a star rising in the east two years ago, when Jesus was born. It just took them that long to get there via camel. But who are these guys? Why are they following this star in the first place? How do they know that it means anything? And how would a star even move across the sky?

The original word used in the gospel of Matthew to describe the wise men is "magi". As in "magic", "magician", that sort of thing. They weren't Jewish, in other words. In all likelihood they were Zoroastrian (!) astrologers. And yet upon seeing this star they are moved to journey to Jerusalem, convinced that it is a sign of the Jewish Messiah's birth. Why do they care? Who knows. But they do. And they even present themselves before the actual Jewish king, Herod, to announce their intention:

"Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews? We saw his star in the east and have come to worship him."

This is kind of a ballsy thing to say. They're standing in the presence of the Jewish king, asking where the real king is. But of course the magi mean "the Messiah has been born, and we want to find him." So King Herod consults the Jewish priests and teachers and asks them where the Messiah is supposed to be born. They answer:

"In Bethlehem in Judea [i.e. the Greek word for "Judah"], for this is what the prophet has written:

'But you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah,
are by no means least among the rulers of Judah;
for out of you will come a ruler
who will be the shepherd of my people Israel.'"

This is from the book of Micah the prophet. As I mentioned last time, the gospel of Matthew is big on the Jewish origins of Jesus. So we have all of these references to the Hebrew Bible, indicating that Jesus is indeed the anointed king of the Jews. There's more of that to come.

In the meantime, King Herod sends the magi to Bethlehem, but not before secretly asking them to disclose Jesus' location to him when they return. Because Herod wants to murder, I mean worship, Jesus too.

So the magi set out on their way, following this star. Which is still moving, by the way. I'm guessing that back then, the word "star" meant "light in the sky that isn't the sun or the moon". So maybe it was a shooting star. An extremely slow-moving shooting star. Or something. I don't know. It's special, okay?

Anyway, the star comes to rest over Jesus' house. "This is the place! Here!" They see Jesus with his mother Mary, and they bow down in worship before him, presenting him with some really nice gifts. I imagine Mary might have been a bit nonplussed by all of this. "Oh hi... can I get you something to eat? Oh I see, you're just worshipping my son. Okay then..." (In the gospel of Matthew, an angel appears to Joseph to tell him about his special boy. But Mary gets no such angelic visitation.)

And that's that. The magi go on their way, but they don't return to Jerusalem to tell King Herod where Jesus is. That night, an angel appears to Joseph again, this time telling him to get out of town. Why? Because Herod is about to demand that every boy in Bethlehem under the age of three be put to death. I guess Herod really does not like the idea of some kid growing up to be the Messiah, or at least being thought of as him.

Why not? Well, because King Herod wasn't really the most bona fide Jewish king you could ask for. He wasn't ethnically Jewish, and had been appointed as (essentially) governor of Judea by the Roman empire. He also acted with brutality toward his own people, violently crushing uprisings and what not. So it's certainly believable that Herod could have ordered something like this. A bunch of Messiah talk would have significantly undermined his authority, when he was already despised by the more religious Jews.

So Joseph, Mary and Jesus flee to Egypt. They remain there for the rest of Herod's life. After he dies, they return to Judea. And you know that Matthew isn't going to let an Egypt reference go by without bringing up the Exodus:

"And so was fulfilled what the Lord had said through the prophet: 'Out of Egypt I called my son.'"

That's from the prophetic book of Hosea. Though this is less of a fulfilled prophecy and more of an analogy. Just something extra to solidify Jesus' identity as Messiah / Special Boy. And if that weren't enough, there's another passage quoted from the Hebrew Bible in reference to Herod's massacre of the male children in Bethlehem:

"A voice is heard in Ramah,
weeping and great mourning,
Rachel weeping for her children
and refusing to be comforted,
because they are no more."

This prophecy is from the book of Jeremiah. ("Rachel" was the wife of Jacob a.k.a. Israel.) But I have to say, I'm not so sure about this one. In fact, it really seems as though the passage quoted above has been taken completely out of context. Jeremiah 31 is all about the restoration of Israel/Judah despite its present difficulties. (The "weeping and great mourning" stuff is meant to describe those present difficulties.) But the chapter goes on to say that God will make everything better again, so take heart.

But Herod's massacre of the innocents is just a terrible event that doesn't lead to any restoration. So why link it to biblical prophecy? It seems that the whole point is to indicate that God is at work here, giving meaning to people's lives (and current events) again. Also, I suppose that without this biblical reference, one might almost be inclined to look at the advent of Jesus as a harbinger of death rather than life.

After Herod dies, Joseph moves his family back to Judea. But he's afraid to settle in Bethlehem again, since Herod's son is now king, and you never know. So instead Joseph decides to move further north, to the region of Galilee, to a town called Nazareth. Even this event gets a prophetic thumbs-up:

"So was fulfilled what was said through the prophets: 'He will be called a Nazarene.'"

Now this is really pushing it. That's not an actual quote from any Biblical prophet. It's just a sort of general... well, it's not really anything. Nobody even knows for sure what the word "Nazarene" is supposed to mean. But "Jesus of Nazareth" is a title most of us are familiar with, so apparently it meant something to Matthew.

And on that note, we come to the end of the Christmas story. At least Matthew's portion of it. The shepherds and the angel appearing to Mary all come later, in the gospel of Luke. In the next chapter we're finally introduced to adult Jesus, who still has some more prophecy to fulfill before he can get started.

Next time: Jesus gets baptized!

The Gospel of Matthew

2010-09-19T11:11:00.000-07:00

All right, here we are on Side 2 of the Bible. After all of the kings and smitings and genealogies, it's time for Jesus and... a bunch of people talking about Jesus. And then more Jesus at the end.

But first things first: what's a "gospel"?

Putting on my nerd hat: "gospel" just means "good news". In other words, the message of universal salvation through Christ. And there are actually four of these gospels in the New Testament (Matthew, Mark, Luke and John).

Why four? Why do we need this "good news" to be told four different times? Especially when they're all about the same thing? Why not just condense it into one book? I don't know. There's just four of them. (I think I remember something involving numerology and "four" being a special number, but who knows.)

One thing I do remember is that each Gospel is supposed to have its own angle. For instance, the Gospel of Matthew is supposed to emphasize the Jewish roots of Christianity. Which I guess explains why it comes first. It provides a smoother transition from the Hebrew Bible.

Speaking of which -- what's been going on with the Jewish people in the intervening centuries between the end of the Hebrew Bible and the start of the New Testament? When last we saw the people of God, they had returned to their homeland from exile and had started rebuilding. But they were still being ruled by a foreign empire.

Since then, the Jews had gotten a new landlord (the Greeks) which didn't work out so well -- Antiochus Epiphanes, the ruler of the Greek empire, had decided to outlaw Judaism and had set up a statue of Zeus inside the Jewish Temple. Which led to a Jewish uprising and, believe it or not, a time of autonymous Jewish rule. But it didn't last long -- the Romans eventually moved in and took over, and that's where things are at the beginning of the New Testament.

Thankfully for the Jewish people, the Romans were a bit more hands-off than the Greeks were. But still, the Romans were an occupying presence, which caused a certain amount of tension. Some Jews were more amenable to the Roman presence (the theologically liberal and perhaps more politically attuned "Sadducees" represent this point of view in the Gospels). Others remained convinced that God's blessing (i.e. deliverance) of the Jewish people depended directly upon the Jews' faithfulness to the Law of Moses (the theologically conservative "Pharisees" representing this point of view). Then there were people like the "Zealots" (a real name) who advocated open rebellion against the Romans, the "Essenes" who were essentially religious hermits, and...well, then there was everybody else: the ordinary people caught in this weird, complex political situation.

So why all this information? Because the Gospel authors assume you already know all this stuff. But enough of the history lesson. Let's get to the Gospel of Matthew!

"A record of the genealogy of Jesus Christ the son of David, the son of Abraham:
Abraham was the father of Isaac,
Isaac the father of Jacob,
Jacob the father of Judah and his brothers,
Judah the father of Perez and Zerah, whose mother was Tamar,
Perez the father of Hezron,
Hezron the father of Ram..."

Wow. Really? Another genealogy? I told you the Gospel of Matthew was more Jewish-y. So yeah, it starts off explaining how Jesus is directly descended from Abraham. Except he isn't -- not exactly. Here's the end of the genealogy:

"...Eliud the father of Eleazar,
Eleazar the father of Matthan,
Matthan the father of Jacob,
and Jacob the father of Joseph, the husband of Mary, of whom was born Jesus, who is called Christ."

Did you catch that? This whole genealogy traces Jesus' father's family back to Abraham. But as we all know, Jesus' father wasn't really Jesus' father. So really, this whole thing is irrelevant! Which is especially odd, considering that one of Joseph's ancestors is listed as King David himself! That would be important, wouldn't it, if Jesus is "the anointed one" a.k.a. "the Messiah" (Hebrew version) a.k.a. "the Christ" (Greek version) a.k.a. God's chosen king? But Jesus isn't even related to David! So why bother with this?

I don't know. But whoever wrote this genealogy ("Matthew", I presume) felt it so important that he even highlights the fact that there are 14 generations from Abraham to David, another 14 from David to the Babylonian exile, and another 14 from the exile to Jesus. Which is great and all, but again -- who cares, if Jesus isn't even part of this family tree? I guess you could say that Jesus was adopted, perhaps.

All right, enough of that. What about Jesus' birth itself? The Gospel of Matthew gives us the story we all know. Joseph and Mary were engaged to be married, but one day she finds out she's pregnant. D'oh! Scandal! But Joseph, being "a righteous man" (i.e. a good guy), decides not to make his fiancee's embarrassing pregnancy public, since that could result in Mary being stoned to death and stuff. Instead, he plans to "divorce her quietly." (Did you have to get a divorce if you called off an engagement back then? I guess so.)

But no! An angel of the Lord appears to Joseph in a dream! ("Angel" still means "messenger" here.) The message from God is:

"Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins."

So that's the Virgin Birth... er, "Virgin Conception", I guess. Jesus was conceived by the Holy Spirit! Which is something (or "Someone" more properly) that's been mentioned a few times in the Hebrew Bible. But now the Holy Spirit takes center stage (1/3 of it, anyway) as the third Person of the Trinity. God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit. They're all God. And this God... er, part of God... er, "person of the Trinity" is the one who impregnates Mary. Poof!

But why do it this way? Why create this undue distress for Mary and Joseph? They're not even married yet, and in their culture premarital sex was a big no-no. Well, it had to be this way so that everyone would know that Mary was a virgin when she conceived. Why is that important? Because of this:

"All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet [Isaiah]: 'The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel'—which means, 'God with us'."

Remember that? The book of Isaiah? (You can read my entry on the "virgin with child" passage from that book here.) Here's the short version: the original passage wasn't really about a virgin birth; the child ("Immanuel") was meant to signify the destruction of Israel by the Assyrian empire. But in the intervening centuries between Isaiah and Jesus, people started to attach Messianic meaning to passages like Isaiah 7. The Hebrew Bible had become a Magic 8 Ball of sorts to people looking for deliverance from their imperial oppressors. So you have Jesus being identified with "Immanuel", even though they don't have the same name. (The Hebrew form of "Jesus" is "Joshua", in case you're wondering.)

So right here in the first chapter of Matthew you have some really important stuff being said. Jesus will save his people from their sins. And he's associated with "Immanuel" i.e. "God with us." Now, the conventional wisdom of the day regarding the Messiah was that he would be a sort of neo-David. An anointed ("chosen") king who would restore the throne of Israel. But already the Gospel of Matthew is going beyond this, with its implication that the birth of Jesus should be seen as "God with us."

Or is it? Christianity eventually got to the point where it had no issue directly equating Jesus with God. And I think it's very easy to read the Gospel of Matthew in this way. But look at what's actually being said. Jesus will save "his people" from their sins. His people? As in, not the rest of the world. Just his people. And "God with us" means that God is on our side. He's present with us, to help us. His favor is upon us. (After all, nobody is claiming that the kid named "Immanuel" in Isaiah 7 was an incarnation of God.)

Remember, Matthew is a more Jewish-y gospel. And the post-exile Jewish people would have been absolutely allergic to any hint of polytheism. So what we really have -- at this point -- is Jesus being established as the Messiah. Which is all anyone had been looking for. As for the "Virgin Conception," the fact is that God poofing something into existence doesn't make it genetically related to him. God poofed the entire universe into existence, and Christians don't claim that trees and mountains are God. All that's being said here is that Jesus is a Very Special Boy.

Anyway, to wrap up the story: Joseph wakes up from his dream and says "all right, I guess I'll marry her then." So Joseph and Mary get married (but they don't have sex beforehand!) and Mary eventually gives birth to a son, whom Joseph names "Jesus".

Ta-da! That's the first chapter of the Gospel of Matthew. After this comes the Christmas story, although it doesn't happen until Jesus is about two years old. (Santa Claus isn't real, either.)

Next time: Wise men! Egypt! More prophecy fulfilled!

First Thoughts on the New Testament

2010-09-11T09:51:00.000-07:00

It's only recently occurred to me that today is September 11th. As in, "the day". I guess I just didn't stop to think, in the midst of all the craziness in the news these past few weeks, that there might be a reason why the intensity of these debates has ramped up so much.

But as I've been reading and watching, I've noticed that there are a couple of issues which haven't really been addressed. The first one being -- just to be blunt about it -- is Pastor Terry Jones, the man who wanted to burn a bunch of copies of the Quran to "send a message" to radical Islam, wrong to refer to Islam as a religion of "Satan"? Does that statement reflect an incorrect interpretation of his Christian Bible?

Well, the answer is "no". He's not wrong. The Old Testament makes it clear that any religious practice other than the worship of God is evil. And the New Testament gives us the figure of Satan, to whom we ascribe all of this evil. So it makes perfect sense: if Christianity is true, if Jesus is the only pathway to salvation, then anything else -- anything at all -- represents a diversion from that path and will lead people to hell. Especially another religion that explicitly states that Christianity does not represent God's full (or correct) message to humanity.

So if you believe the Bible to be true, then of course you would say that Islam is literally "satanic". Of course it is, if it leads people away from Jesus. Right?

And yet there's this huge furor over a Christian pastor planning to treat a "satanic" object in the same way that the Christian God will eventually treat all "satanic" things, according to the Christian Bible: namely, burning it. Lest we forget, God is going to throw every unsaved person into hell when the end of the world comes. (To quote "Preacher Max", a crazy old man who used to randomly show up at my college campus: "God's building a big fire for all the fornicators and masturbators!")

It was God's idea to burn up the evil stuff in the first place. So why should a Christian pastor be condemned for literally doing "what Jesus would do"? (Or at least for wanting to do so.)

Well, obviously because burning another religion's holy book is deliberately provocative, intolerant and generally unnecessary and douche-y. However: it's not un-Christian.

And I think this point gets lost, or perhaps deliberately set aside, amidst all the back-and-forth debate over mosques and Qurans. Plenty of Christians have stepped forward publicly to denounce Quran-burning. But why should they? Their own religion endorses exactly this sort of thing. If they really felt that their allegiance to God trumped their allegiance to their government (another Christian principle), then why should it matter to them what might happen as a consequence? If you possessed a vital truth that could save the world, how could you possibly keep silent about it or hedge on it?

I suspect that many Christians secretly agree with Pastor Jones, though they may lack the desire or will to say so publicly. Are they afraid to stand up for Jesus Christ? Or is it that they recognize the real-world ramifications of such a stance? By now everybody has heard the chorus of voices in our government as well as the military, all saying "this would be a bad idea". Not to mention the harm that could be done to these Christians' evangelistic outreach by allowing the world to know the crazy shit that they really believe. So they keep silent, and show the world who their true master is.

I might sound like a real hard-ass right now, but let's be real here -- Christianity is an exclusivist religion. You can't be a Christian and also a Muslim, or a Jew, or a Buddhist or a Hindu. You have to only be a Christian in order to be saved, and only Christians can be saved. That's it! It's the core of the Christian belief system. So if this is so vitally important, isn't it okay to be like "hey Christians, where are your balls?" Because people are dying and going to hell every day, right? Don't you care? Shouldn't you care a thousand times more than you do? Or is your passion limited to voting for pro-life politicians and bans on gay marriage? (Yeah, I'm going there today. Hide your children.)

Then again, not every Christian is a social conservative. There are many Christians who have more of a liberal bent, who try to convince themselves that their chosen religion is in any way compatible with pluralistic, postmodern thinking. These Christians respond to Pastor Jones not with silence or disingenuous disapproval, but by claiming that Jesus would not do anything to intentionally provoke others. That he would be loving (i.e. "passive") and just encourage us to all get along with each other, like some great cosmic hippie.

I'm not sure which is worse. The Jesus I remember from the gospels was pretty good at stirring up shit (hello, how do you think he ended up getting arrested and crucified?). Not to mention that the book of Revelation gives us a triumphant Jesus riding back from heaven to smite all the enemies of God. But by obscuring all this and presenting a distorted, socially acceptable version of Christianity, this belief system is kept alive for the next generation of Pastor Joneses. But at least people like him read the book and don't pretend it says something else.

So, wow Pete. Where is this all going to go? I'm not sure. But I do think I'm finally at the point where I feel ready to tackle the New Testament. Since it seems that people will be co-opting Jesus for quite some time to come, I may as well go back and remind myself what all the fuss is about. I don't have the same sense of "personal journey of discovery" I did when I started the Old Testament, but I'm still pretty sure that I'll learn some stuff along the way.

Perhaps next week, then. If so, it'll be the gospel of Matthew -- the first book of the New Testament.

Final Thoughts on the Old Testament

2010-07-18T12:05:00.000-07:00

I went for a walk in our neighborhood park this morning. As I was walking, I started thinking about this blog, and what I would say now that I've gotten to the end of the Old Testament. I started thinking about the Adam and Eve story all the way back in Genesis. And that got me thinking about what it means for us to be cut off from paradise, the way Adam and Eve were.

I have to admit, I don't often find myself yearning to live out in the open with a bunch of fruit trees, even if the land does come pre-irrigated. But this is how "Eden" is described to us in the book of Genesis. Now, to a bunch of subsistence farmers eking out a living in the desert, I'm sure such a place would have seemed like paradise. But it isn't to me. I like my iPhone too much.

My first thought was, "well, doesn't this render the story irrelevant?" Because my life, right now, is 100 times better than it would be in some garden where I'd still be working to grow my own food. Essentially, we're already living in a paradise that's way more paradise-y than Eden ever was.

But then I remembered again that this is "paradise" as it was imagined by the people who wrote this story. Our paradise would undoubtedly look much different. But the details don't matter. What matters is that the authors are trying to tell us, "Eden was so much better than what we have now."

And what ultimately made Eden so much better than our present existence? The presence of God, coupled with the moral innocence of humanity. If you remember the story, there was a tree in the middle of the garden known as "the tree of the knowledge of good and evil". And as long as Adam and Eve stayed away from that tree, they could continue to enjoy God's presence in paradise. But the moment they ate from that tree, "their eyes were opened" and the world was no longer as it had been. Which led to their permanent expulsion from Eden.

So that's what we're trying to get back to. A place of moral innocence, where we're looked after by someone who provides for our needs. What is that describing?

Childhood.

One thing that's become clear to me as I've read through the Old Testament is that spiritual needs and psychological needs are often one and the same. Or to put it another way: religion is humanity's first attempt at psychotherapy.

This can apply on multiple levels. God is the invincible Father who will never leave, who always protects and saves us. He gives our lives purpose by providing a rationale for why things happen the way they do. He grants us inner peace as we pray and meditate. Most importantly, he answers the fundamental question of human existence: why are we here? Because God created us.

So what does this mean? Does this invalidate religion? Actually, I don't think so. I just think that religion happens to be an outdated method of dealing with our problems. At least, the religion expressed in the pages of the Old Testament. I see humanity in this book, no question. I see honest questioning and difficult answers. But I also see a primitive and even childlike attempt at figuring out the meaning of life -- as primitive as anything else about their society would seem to us today.

But that doesn't mean that the questions aren't still out there. And I'm not finished with this journey yet.

Earlier today, I revisited the first entry in my blog (from March 2008!), and found this:

"I've lost a lot of faith in the church over the years, and a question I'd like to answer for myself is: how much of that is just the church and/or my feelings about it, and how much of it comes from the Bible itself?"

I'll be honest; I'm sick to death of the church. And to be even more honest, I'm sick to death of Judah and Israel and kings and Babylon and sacrifices and all of it. Maybe this is what I get for deciding to read through the entire Bible. It's really overwhelming after a while. And the more I get into it, the less I feel connected to reality. Like I'm diving into some history book that takes me further and further away from the present, the more time I spend in it.

Perhaps what I'm trying to say is that I desperately want relevance. I want something vital, something that matters. Something alive. And I don't feel that from this book. Not overall. There are moments, to be sure. There are some passages, and even some books, that I came away from enjoying more than I ever have. But there's also been a lot of stuff that I never need to read again.

So I don't know. I'm supposed to have a big conclusive thought, and I'm not sure that I have one. But there is one thing I do know: I'm going to take a hiatus from this blog for a while. I'm not sure how long. Maybe just a month; maybe longer. But I need some time away. I'm very glad that I've done this, and I do look forward to continuing in the New Testament. But for right now, I think I'm going to go back outside for a while.

The Book of Malachi, and the End of the Old Testament

2010-07-17T20:45:00.000-07:00

That's right! After over two years, I've finally made it through the entire Hebrew Bible / Old Testament. Which I think is a pretty cool accomplishment, since I suck at sports and don't have a lot of other options for things I can do.

But I can read the shit out of the Bible! Suck on that, Andre Dawson!

So what do we have for the last book of the Old Testament? A guy named Malachi. Who is he? Nobody knows. In fact, "Malachi" might not even be the author's name, because "malachi" just means "my messenger", as in a prophet. But then again, this is a book where people get names like "Son Of My Trouble" and "Not My People", so you never know.

Most likely, "Malachi" wrote his little book after the Jewish exile in Babylon (like so many others). Why did he write? What theological bug was up his ass? Well, you know that whole thing about Israel making a covenant with God, and Israel being destroyed because they'd broken their covenant? That was their official explanation for the invasion of Israel by the Assyrians, and later the invasion of Judah by the Babylonians. It's how they made sense of what had happened to them. They had failed to live up to God's standards, and so he had punished them.

And now that the Jewish people are back in their homeland, guess what's happening? They're starting to become apathetic again! To make matters worse, the chief offenders are the priests themselves!

"'A son honors his father, and a servant his master. If I [God] am a father, where is the honor due me? If I am a master, where is the respect due me?' says the LORD Almighty. 'It is you, O priests, who show contempt for my name. But you ask, "How have we shown contempt for your name?" You place defiled food on my altar. But you ask, "How have we defiled you?" By saying that the LORD's table is contemptible. When you bring blind animals for sacrifice, is that not wrong? When you sacrifice crippled or diseased animals, is that not wrong? Try offering them to your governor! Would he be pleased with you? Would he accept you?' says the LORD Almighty."

God makes a pretty good point. You wouldn't try to stiff the IRS, because you know they'd come get you and put you in jail. And isn't God like, ten billion times bigger than the IRS? So why do these people -- the priests! -- think it's okay to cheat God? Are they stupid?

And God isn't done with the priests yet. He then harangues them for completely failing at their mission. Priests are supposed to be role models, sources of godly wisdom and guidance, all that good stuff. But they're doing the exact opposite by ignoring God's law.

(I always think it's interesting to see apathy in religious figures. You would think they would be the holiest and most devoted people, but sometimes they're just going through the motions. Perhaps because they've seen behind the curtain.)

Finally, God / Malachi lets us know that he's only bringing this up because he wants to keep his promise to Levi. (Levi being the first priest ever.) In other words, it would be a shame if God had to kill every single priest, because he totally pinky swore that he would bless Levi's descendants. So please, shape up a bit here, guys.

Another moral failing in Judah: divorce. Both spiritual and, you know, the regular kind. Judah absolutely cannot be fucking around with foreign deities. Cannot. Be. And also, guess what God hates now?

"I hate divorce."

God hates divorce. It should be noted that the list of things that God "hates" is actually pretty short. So it's pretty significant that divorce made his list. And as you might be expecting, this is the part where I lambaste the church for being completely willing to compromise on this point, but not on homosexuality. Of course, I don't really have a problem with the church accepting people who've been divorced. That's simply the humane thing to do. It's just a pity that this humane response is reserved for heterosexuals.

Oh, now here's something interesting. God tells the people of Judah that they have "wearied" him with their words. What did they say?

"All who do evil are good in the eyes of the LORD, and he is pleased with them."

and:

"Where is the God of justice?"

Sounds like God just found out about the book of Habakkuk. I can just imagine him reading it and saying "what the hell is this?" Yeah, God, it's true -- people have been asking questions about you. About the way you do things. I mean, you live long enough and you're bound to observe something that doesn't fit into the "God blesses the righteous and punishes the wicked" paradigm.

Well, okay -- "all who do evil are good in the eyes of the LORD, and he is pleased with them" is a bit cynical. Fair enough. But what about the basic principle here, God? What do you think about that?

"'See, I will send my messenger, who will prepare the way before me. Then suddenly the Lord you are seeking will come to his temple; the messenger of the covenant, whom you desire, will come,' says the LORD Almighty."

Oh, he's changed the subject. Too bad; it could have been a good discussion. But all right, I'll roll with it. What's this about a messenger? I guess he's some guy who's going to come and purify the priesthood. God is going to clean house and get him some priests who work honestly.

Speaking of honesty: that's one more thing. Apparently the people haven't been paying their taxes. To the priests, I mean. Specifically, the "tithe," a.k.a. the ten percent of their yield that the people are supposed to donate to the priests. They've been holding back. Which God views as robbery. Not of the priests, but of himself. So it's a big deal to him.

Anticipating the people's reaction, God says that they're free to "test him" and see if he won't bless them like crazy if they would only donate the full amount. "Don't worry about not having enough; if you obey me, I will give you more than you know what to do with."

If I may hit the pause button for a moment: This little passage is probably one of the most exploited and misused sections of the entire Bible. You can imagine how it works. "Give the church your money and God will bless you with more!" I've seen this advice given to young married couples who couldn't even cover their own expenses. It's absolutely shameful, to be completely honest. To take a rule about taxation -- because that's really what this is, Israel was a theocracy -- and to twist it into a spiritual obligation is just criminal. God has issued no such commandment, and yet "tithing" is something that is practiced and taught throughout Christendom.

Not that donating to churches is bad. But being told that it's a sign of your faith in God (and therefore an implicit requirement) is definitely bad. Because it's bad, but also because it's not even something the Bible teaches. Not to mention that "donating to churches" really means helping to cover their operational budget. If that makes you feel closer to God, then more power to you.

Continuing on: God / Malachi then complains that the people have said that it's "futile" to serve God. (Would "meaningless" perhaps be the word you're looking for?)

"It is futile to serve God. What did we gain by carrying out his requirements and going about like mourners before the LORD Almighty? But now we call the arrogant blessed. Certainly the evildoers prosper, and even those who challenge God escape."

Now we're back to things being interesting. The complaint is this: "what's the point of serving God when people who totally ignore him are better off than we are?"

Guess what happens. Once again, there's no follow-up at all and God changes the subject. Weak! He starts talking about how he's going to spare the righteous. Which, you know, is ironic considering that that whole notion was just challenged, twice. But Malachi isn't interested in exploring the issue too much. He just wants to call people out on it.

But maybe God has been paying attention after all. This is what he says in the final chapter of the book of Malachi:

"'Surely the day is coming; it will burn like a furnace. All the arrogant and every evildoer will be stubble, and that day that is coming will set them on fire,' says the LORD Almighty. 'Not a root or a branch will be left to them. But for you who revere my name, the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its wings. And you will go out and leap like calves released from the stall. Then you will trample down the wicked; they will be ashes under the soles of your feet on the day when I do these things,' says the LORD Almighty."

I get it now. God, in a roundabout way, is saying that the wicked will get their comeuppance eventually, and that the righteous will be vindicated. All right. It's the "someday everything will be okay" answer. Which I guess I have to accept, since it's better than God berating you for not being omnipotent.

After that, we get one last exhortation to stay faithful to God: "Remember the law of my servant Moses, the decrees and laws I gave him at Horeb for all Israel." I haven't heard those words in a long time. It's almost like God is saying goodbye here.

And finally -- at the end of this long, long book -- we come to the last words of the Old Testament:

"See, I will send you the prophet Elijah before that great and dreadful day of the LORD comes. He will turn the hearts of the fathers to their children, and the hearts of the children to their fathers; or else I will come and strike the land with a curse."

Don't you just love it?

Next time: Pete's final thoughts on the Old Testament!

The Book of Zechariah and the Future of Jerusalem

2010-07-17T09:39:00.000-07:00

Not to be confused with "Zephaniah"... oh it's already too late, isn't it?

Well, anyway. Zechariah! Hey, how come nobody told me this book has fourteen friggin' chapters? I thought we were all done with the long stuff. Oops. No worries though; I'll do my best to summarize it all for you.

So what's this book about?

Zechariah was a prophet who lived in post-exile Judah, just like the prophet Haggai. The Babylonians, who had invaded Judah and taken its people into exile, were later conquered themselves by the Persians. Which meant that the Persians essentially inherited the people of Judah. But the Persians took a different approach to the whole "empire" thing; they believed in keeping their subjects happy, so they allowed the Judeans to relocate back to Jerusalem.

And that's where we are. You might remember Haggai talking about rebuilding the temple, and how Zerubbabel (the governor of Judah) and Joshua (the high priest) were super blessed by God for leading this initiative. Well, there's more about them here.

But the main thing about the book of Zechariah is that it's chock full of allegorical future-times prophetic stuff. To give you an example:

"During the night I [Zechariah] had a vision—and there before me was a man riding a red horse! He was standing among the myrtle trees in a ravine. Behind him were red, brown and white horses. I asked, 'What are these, my lord?' The angel who was talking with me answered, 'I will show you what they are.' Then the man standing among the myrtle trees explained, 'They are the ones the LORD has sent to go throughout the earth.'"

So it's like that. Zechariah sees something, he asks what it means, and someone tells him. Everything is representative of something else. Keep in mind that Zechariah is experiencing this vision "during the night," which is another way of saying that he was asleep. He was dreaming. But back then, dreams were often understood to be messages from the divine. It certainly explains both a) the subject matter, and b) the strange way in which this is all related to us.

But what do I mean by subject matter? What's the book of Zechariah about? Two things, mainly: rebuilding the Temple, and questions of Judah's present and future security. Makes sense, right? This is the kind of stuff someone living in Judah at that time would be dwelling on. And that's what Zechariah dreams about. Fortunately, Zechariah's dream also contains angelic beings who tell him what everything means.

So here's the quick version of the first half of the book: God will gather Judah together again and make it safe. He will also punish the enemy nations who harmed Judah. Jerusalem will be rebuilt, and people from all over the world will come back to the city. Joshua the high priest is officially ordained by God and has his sin taken away. Zerubbabel the governor of Judah will finish building the new Temple. Babylon is evil. And something about horses and lampstands.

That's the thing about this type of prophetic literature -- it really does read like it was pulled out of someone's head. And not in an entirely coherent form, either. For instance, here's the "lampstands" part; see if you can figure out what it means:

"Then the angel who talked with me returned and wakened me, as a man is wakened from his sleep. He asked me, 'What do you see?' I answered, 'I see a solid gold lampstand with a bowl at the top and seven lights on it, with seven channels to the lights. Also there are two olive trees by it, one on the right of the bowl and the other on its left.' I asked the angel who talked with me, 'What are these, my lord?' He answered, 'Do you not know what these are?' 'No, my lord,' I replied."

It's not a very efficient form of storytelling, is it? "What do you see?" "I see something. What does it mean?" "You don't know what it means?" "No." Oy! Get on with it!

But eventually it is all explained. The seven lights on this lampstand are meant to represent God's "seven eyes" that range throughout the whole earth. Okay, so he's watching. What about the two olive trees? They're God's anointed servants. And you can guess who they are -- the governor of Judah (Zerubbabel) and the high priest (Joshua).

So that's Zechariah's first vision. The second half of the book is about his next vision, which he experiences two years later. But this vision comes to us in the more traditional "poems and predictions" form we've seen in most of the prophetic books. Not so much with the "what does this mean?" stuff this time.

It starts off with a little anecdote about some people who had come to ask the priests a question. Their question is, "do we have to keep mourning and fasting in the fifth month every year?" This question seems to annoy God, and he responds (through Zechariah) to them as follows:

"When you fasted and mourned in the fifth and seventh months for the past seventy years, was it really for me that you fasted? And when you were eating and drinking, were you not just feasting for yourselves?"

So fuck it, right? I mean, it's not like you guys ever cared about these religious activities anyway. God / Zechariah follows up with another one of those passages that I want to cut out and frame on the wall (or maybe shout from the rooftops):

"This is what the LORD Almighty says: 'Administer true justice; show mercy and compassion to one another. Do not oppress the widow or the fatherless, the alien or the poor. In your hearts do not think evil of each other.'"

There's a lot in that. And yet it's remarkably concise. Why focus on a bunch of religious bullshit that you don't even want to do in the first place? Just focus on the essentials, and here they are. Bam.

That's the frustrating thing, though. I would love to say "this is the message of the Bible", but the Bible is also equal parts violence and blood and misogyny and weirdness. I kind of feel like I have to either accept the entire book, or reject the whole thing. Which I know is a product of the Christian subculture I belonged to. You weren't allowed to pick the parts you liked. You had to embrace the whole thing. (Of course, that was the official line. In reality, people just ignored the parts they didn't like or understand, while highlighting the parts they did like.)

And again I come back to: who am I to say what the "real" message of the Bible is? There's nothing in the book to tell me which parts are more important than others. Sure, I can see a definite trend over time toward this sort of internalized (yet others-focused) personal religious expression, but that's not the same as the book itself telling you "yes, this is what matters, forget that other stuff." That's not in there. So really it's just me and my preferences dictating what I think the book is about.

But then I guess that's why the "it's all from God" point of view works for people. You don't have to think about the relative worthiness of a certain story, or bit of doctrine, or whatever it may be. You just say "it's all from God" and don't worry about it. Though at this point I genuinely can't imagine this book all being the product of a single mind.

Back to Zechariah. The book goes on to describe how wonderful it's going to be in Jerusalem someday. I'm sure Zechariah (like others) is anticipating the eventual construction of the new Temple, and what it will mean for Judah. Jerusalem is almost literally described as a paradise on earth. God himself will reside there, the crops will grow and the rain will fall, children will play in the streets, and people from all over the world will beg to be taken to Jerusalem. That's how awesome it's going to be when the city is back to its former glory.

This is profoundly sad to read. We know the eventual history of Judah, what becomes of its people and its Temple. It all ends up being destroyed by the Romans in 70 AD, along with the entire city of Jerusalem. Yikes.

Then there's more about the enemies of Judah being smited, and once again I'm wondering why things are different all of a sudden. "Never again will an oppressor overrun my people, for now I am keeping watch." Oh, now you are? Well that's good.

Here's a brief summary of the rest of the book -- which I need for myself as much as anything else, because it's hard to get a handle on where he's going:

Jerusalem will have its king again. God himself will save Judah from attack. He will restore the nation and strengthen it.

And then... it starts to get confusing. There's a weird allegory involving sheep and shepherds, which I think is meant to illustrate the history of Israel and Judah. It's very negative, and it's unclear what the point is. After that, God mentions that Judah is going to be attacked by everyone else in the world. Um, what? But don't worry -- he'll strengthen the Judeans and they'll win.

But then everyone in Jerusalem will mourn as they look to God, "the one they have pierced". God will place a fountain in Jerusalem to cleanse everyone of their sin, idols will be banished, and even prophets won't be allowed to speak anymore. It's strange to see God referring to himself as a victim, and I'm sure that that plus the "piercing" image evokes Jesus for a lot of people. Of course, by the time Jesus came along everyone would have known about this book... but we'll come to all of that soon enough.

Continuing the randomness, Zechariah then tells us how God essentially destroyed 2/3 of his people and allowed the remaining third to be "refined", which is Bible speak for "put through the ringer". Actually, that kind of is what it means; you get squeezed but in the end you're clean. This is the understanding of history that the people of Judah have come to. Yes, God allowed Israel to be invaded by the Assyrians. Yes, he allowed Judah to be invaded by the Babylonians. But now a "remnant" of Judah has returned, and they are pure! Or at least they will be.

However... a day is still coming when the entire earth will fight against Jerusalem. (Didn't we already cover this?) But this time everyone else will win! "The city will be captured, the houses ransacked, and the women raped." Lovely. But then God himself will go out and fight against these nations. (The assumption is that God wins, though that isn't explicitly stated.) And then the survivors from foreign nations will make pilgrimages to Jerusalem every year -- and if they don't, they won't get any rain! And everything in Jerusalem will be so righteous and holy that even the bells on the horses will have "HOLY TO THE LORD" inscribed on them.

Also, there won't be a Canaanite on the throne anymore. Thank goodness.

Bluggh. The randomness of it all overwhelms me. Thankfully, this is the end of the book of Zechariah. And there's only one more book remaining in the Old Testament! Can you believe it?

Next time: the book of Malachi, in which I attempt and fail to not make any "Children of the Corn" references!