Threads from Henry's Web

Category: Christianity

  • Believing in Words and Symbols

    In a previous post I discussed “true belief” and some of the comments have gotten quite interesting. I’ve considered promoting part of the exchange with commenter Lifewish to a post of its own.

    One commenter mentioned the issue of essentially believing the Nicene Creed as opposed to a more simple statement of belief in God, the divine, the supernatural, or another similar concept. I want to make even clearer that my own leap of faith was not to the Nicene Creed, but rather to a simple belief in a “ground of all being” underlying and beyond existence. Now the same theologian who coined the phrase “ground of all being”, Paul Tillich, also noted that all language referring to God was by nature symbolic, which is one of a number of substantial contributions he has made to theological discourse. I could wish that I had been less concentrated on pure Biblical studies, and a little more open to theological reflection, as a seminary student. Had I read Tillich in seminary I might have saved myself much needless confusion.

    I believe that our theological language tends to begin in spiritual experience. That is not to say that all theologians are somehow mystics and relate their own experiences, but rather that theology starts with people who hear voices, see visions, or dream dreams that they regard as meaningful. I have a certain amount of the mystic in me, as I have related recently, and thus I can state the first of two points from personal experience: When you put a spiritual experience into words it immediately loses something. When I feel the presence of God I cannot completely relate that story in words. Words are limited. Words are, by nature, intended to describe things. We even find them a bit inadequate dealing with emotions.

    Thus the validity of what I say about spiritual experience is automatically subject to question. When I take a step further, and start generalizing doctrines, such as the doctrine of the trinity, I have taken several steps beyond that, as I use symbolic language to describe generalized, common spiritual experience. There is a big difference in my mind between saying, “I believe in God,” and saying “I believe in the trinity.” If nothing else, the first is part of the “leap of faith” I described previously, while the second is something derived from that, and form the experience and teaching of others.

    Some of my orthodox brethren may get pretty uncomfortable with this, but while I regard myself as a trinitarian Christian, because I find the language of the trinity most useful in talking about God, I have serious doubts about how accurately that doctrine, or any other doctrine of God, actually describes God. I find that the language of trinitarian theology combines quite well the mystery and the experience of God as I encounter it. The language of the trinity works perfectly well for me. But I have no basis for jumping on people who cannot accept it. While I have said that I no longer can imagine not believing in God–I’ve tried to disbelieve and failed–I could easily imagine a set of circumstances that might cause me to quit believing in the trinity. Just provide me with a better set of symbols to use in talking about the divine, tie them into the tradition (long-term experience) of my community, and I’ll take a look.

    One argument that will not convince me that the trinity is false (or not useful), however, is the argument that it doesn’t make sense. It does, and it doesn’t. In my view it describes our experience of God quite well, and it points me toward God effectively. At the same time it has the truly endearing quality of refusing to let me feel that I have fully grasped it. In a similar way, I think that if I think I have grasped God fully, that is the best indication that I’m off the track. I think it’s going to be hard to invent a doctrine that works better (for me) as a symbol for God than the trinity, but I leave open the door to such trials.

    In conclusion I just want to say that I find tinkering with theological concepts great fun. It is unfortunate that there has been so much judgment applied to the process, and that people have been put to death over mysterious doctrines such as the trinity. Considering our infinite ignorance of God (at least I regard myself as infinitely ignorant of an infinite being), it seems awesomely arrogant to burn other people at the stake over disagreements between our various forms of ignorance–or to condemn or ostracize them.

  • Happy Easter!

    I’m waiting till it’s time to head off for our Easter service with my wife, so I thought I’d wish everyone a happy Easter. I don’t expect to post more today, though I’m going to follow an older church practice by talking about Easter through the Easter season. I’m going to call your attention to my short story from last years, Easter Morning Resurrection.

  • On Being a True Believer

    I’ve been thinking of writing this ever since I read Joe Carter’s post Plagued by Certainty, but I haven’t really had the time. You see, while there are certainly many things regarding which I disagree with Joe Carter, I find a certain resonance with his claim of certainty in matters of faith.

    This certainty does not extend to the full list, nor has it remained unquestioned throughout my life. Rather, I would call myself a true believer not because I have always been convinced, nor because I have a growing belief, but rather because I have made the maximum effort to disbelieve, and come up a failure.

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  • Christian Carnival #CCXVI

    . . . has been posted at Crossroads.

  • Evidence that Demands a Kingdom

    Thomas an excellent post on Everyday Liturgy, titled Evidence that Demands a Kingdom. This is part of a series, all of which have been good, but this one struck me most forcefully so far. Go, read it, and check out the links to the rest of the series.

  • Distress, Lies, and Christlikeness

    I follow Dr. Steve Matheson’s blog Quintessence of Dust very closely, because as I have read what he posts I have found that he has a high level of integrity, and also provides an extremely high density of information in carefully chosen words. Recently he has been posting on the topic of just how one refers to false statements from people who ought to know better.

    I appreciate the attention he has been giving this issue, because non-specialists have no choice but to trust the integrity of credentialed scientists, at least in the basic data they present. Interpretation is always a different matter.

    Today he has a post On folk science and lies: Back to the basics, in which he digs further into this topic. It’s partially a response to this post by a colleague of his at Calvin College, Kevin Corcoran. Both posts are well worth reading. I provide the second link for those who may not follow all the links, but might I recommend you read this second post when you get to it’s link in Steve’s post? He provides a nice break point so that you can read the second post in context.

    I made the following comment, which I’m reposting here, again for the benefit of those who won’t follow the links:

    I think you are doing a good job with a difficult topic. The problem is in determining the nature of a statement and the intent of the author. Perhaps that should lead us to call statements “false” rather than “lies.”

    I still have a concern here, however. Remember I come at this from a different direction. I’m a Bible teacher and writer at the popular level. I try to communicate things that I study from more serious scholars. At one time I thought I could basically trust information from RtB, even where I might disagree with conclusions.

    What I hear from people in the classes and seminars I offer is that they are getting their information from Christian sources, and specifically from Christian sources who claim strong scientific credentials. These same sources are directly or indirectly accusing the vast majority of the scientific community of a conspiracy to deceive. Because of the claim to be Christian and scientifically credentialed, these non-specialists accept their claims.

    Hugh Ross falls into that category of trust. I can name any number of people with whom I work who will accept his statements or statements of his associates simply because of his reputation. What responsibility does that place on him? Is there a point where a qualified Christian expert (such as you, Steve), should call him on what he is doing?

    It’s not so much the word “lie,” though I continue to have difficulty understanding how a biologist could say certain things that have been quoted here on your blog unintentionally. At a minimum they seem to me to involve negligence.

    I take blog posts here, or books by Christian authors whose integrity I have no reason to doubt, and quote the counter-statements. Not being a specialist (it’s not written in Greek or Hebrew!), it’s hard for me to judge.

    But from my non-expert’s point of view, that’s what makes the issue of integrity so extremely important. Integrity doesn’t mean always being right, but it does mean being careful, presenting the truth as best one knows it, and acknowledging errors when they are pointed out.

    As I have been on the wrong end of some very unChristlike comments, and unfortunately I’ve been guilty of some myself, I’m very conscious of that issue as well. If we can be very, very clear as to what is reliable and what is not without going any further than necessary in making personal accusations, that would be ideal.

    I very much appreciate your efforts in this area. If you determine you’ve deviated from the path you set for yourself, you have also clearly demonstrated a willingness to be corrected and to acknowledge errors. All of that gives evidence of your personal and professional integrity.

    I remain uncomfortable with this topic, but I regard it as of great importance. I’ll be interested in any comments made here or there.

  • John 18:1-4 – Getting Christological Perspective

    If you’re acquainted with the synoptic gospels, in reading John 18:1-4 you may notice some substantial differences. What’s missing here is the time of tarrying and waiting, the prayer, any sort of agony or question about what Jesus was about to go through is gone. Verse 4 puts the different feel of the text into words when it says, “Jesus, knowing all that was going to happen to him . . .” (TNIV).

    So which is it? Was Jesus confident and in control, finally giving up his own life, or did he pray that the cup might pass from him? One could try to reconcile these by saying that he knew, but he also wished to avoid, but I think it’s impossible to read the passion story in the gospel of John without seeing a different picture of Jesus than the synoptics portray, always assuming that one lets John speak for himself, and each of the synoptic writers for himself.

    But I’m going to suggest that nonetheless “which is it?” is the wrong question. This is where we get into mystery. Orthodox christology holds that Jesus is fully human and fully divine. Human logic balks at the combination. When we think about Jesus we generally are either thinking of him as more human or more divine. Lacking an infinite perspective, we have to see something finite. In our minds 2 * fully (or 2 * 100%) is just too much to see at once.

    So we have different pictures in the gospels, because being written by finite people (inspired by God) and in finite human language, they can only give us part of the perspective at once. In John we see the divinity of Jesus in the foreground. In Luke especially (22:39-51) we see a much more human Jesus. Again, “which is it?” is the wrong question to ask. It is both, which is how the doctrine developed.

    When we see all the Biblical perspectives on Jesus we realize that he cannot be simply one thing. Various christological heresies have tried to make some one perspective be the perspective. But we can be sure that any explanation that makes too much sense, that makes it too simple to understand isn’t adequate to the task.

    I’m reminded also of God’s work in a person’s life. Who am I? Am I Henry Neufeld, defined by my history, my education, my actions in the past? Or am I a human being in the process of sanctification by the Holy Spirit, with Christ dwelling in me? I assure you that I don’t present the kind of challenge that Jesus, fully human and fully divine, does. But I do present contradictions, and I do look different when you look at me from the perspective of the work God is doing on me.

    In Hebrews 11 we have person after person who was called and used by God. The presentation of these people is invariably more positive than what you find in the Hebrew scriptures. Sarah is filled with faith, rather than laughter. Moses doesn’t fear the wrath of the king, even though he flees. I think Hebrews 11 looks at these people in terms of what God is doing in them, not who they were on their own.

    We can’t have a God’s eye view. God has the infinite expression. But by looking from these various angles that scripture provides, we two can see just a little of what God sees.

  • Another Jeremiah

    I recalled Micaiah before I thought of Jeremiah in this case, even though Dr. Jeremiah Wright shares the great prophet’s name. Micaiah is the prophet of who never prophesied anything good about Ahab (1 Kings 22). Jeremiah, on the other hand, was definitely an anti-patriot. Very little that he said was appreciated by the hierarchy of Judah, and he certainly was not an advocate of dialogue.

    Which brings me to Barack Obama’s former pastor, who doesn’t speak in terms of dialogue, and doesn’t sound like a great American patriot. But leaving aside message for a moment, he definitely does have the tone of a prophet. Prophets tend to have an abrasive personality, or else they are driven to abrasiveness by the messages they are called upon to deliver. I remember one church at which I taught on the gift of prophecy. After I had discussed rebuke as an element of prophecy, one of the members told me that they didn’t do rebuke at that church; they preferred encouragement. All I can say is that if you prefer encouragement, you probably won’t like the tradition of the Hebrew prophets.

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  • Spectrum of Views on Historical Reading of the Gospels

    I often present a standard spectrum of views on reading the gospels as history, one which extends from the conservative, or even fundamentalist side, which claims that all details of any type must be historical, to the opposite radical conclusion which claims that the gospels are entirely fiction. Most discussion goes on somewhere between that, with many conservatives allowing for minor differences in what they regard as eyewitness reports, and few scholars claiming that there is no historical basis in the gospels.

    But there is another spectrum I’d like to point out this Easter season: Just how important is history to our faith? These two spectra may not be completely independent, but in my experience they can be. I have encountered people who believe pretty much whatever the gospels say is historical, but don’t regard that as terribly important. On the other hand there are folks who think that the “Jesus of faith” is the key, no matter how one takes the historical evidence.

    I personally tend to give the gospels the benefit of the doubt, though I have no need to reconcile issues like the number of demoniacs who met Jesus on the other side of the sea, or the numbers of denials and cock crowings, or who precisely showed up when on Easter morning. It is important to me to regard these as unimportant, but I’m not bothered too much if you want to reconcile them. I’m not disturbed, on the other hand, if the feeding of the 5,000 and the 4,000 is regarded as one event told multiple times with variations, or two distinct events.

    In the modern western world, we think first of facts and history, and whether this is all true, in the sense that it happened as described. But that can lead us to try to read the gospel to answer a list of questions that the gospel writers weren’t trying to answer. What I’d recommend, and what I try to do for myself on a regular basis, is to simply read the each gospel on its own and try to see just what the writer was trying to pretend. Then I can turn to history, or whatever other issues are involved. But my faith is profoundly based on their story and their testimony and the way that connects to mine.

    Chronology can be fun, in fact I enjoy it, but it is not the root of my faith.

  • Home-Grown Insurgents?

    This is funny. And thought provoking.