Explaining This Holy Mystery

Yesterday we celebrated Holy Communion, as both of my churches are official members of the communion-once-a-month tribe. At one congregation we had several visitors, which is quite a feat in a small town that has relatively few newcomers.

We had one couple who was very curious about the service and the United Methodist understanding of communion. I want to honor their privacy, so I won’t give too many details, but they were delightful. After the service they wanted to have a conversation about United Methodist beliefs regarding the sacrament.

I’m not sure exactly where their understanding of communion was formed, but it became clear that it is very important to them that the place they worship not hold an understanding of communion that resembles transubstantiation. In fact, if I understood them correctly, they weren’t too fired up about consubstantiation either.

I pointed them to This Holy Mystery and tried to explain my understanding of the real presence of Jesus in the sacrament, worked through a Wesleyan understanding of the various means of grace, and then applauded their concern for sacramental theology. Over and over, they used the word symbolic. In contrast, my buzzphrase was “Christ is truly and really present, but it is a great mystery metaphysically speaking” (OK, I didn’t use the word metaphysically, but I tried to get at that in less philosophical language).

They seem like great folks, and my primary concern was to make sure I didn’t mislead them in any way concerning the United methodist views of the Eucharist while honoring their search for a Church home. Next time I see them, I’ve got two copies of This Holy Mystery workbook by Gayle Carlton Felton that I’m going to give them. Thank God for good resources!

Religion, Science, and Naturalism

Back in 2003, I did a book review of Religion, Science, & Naturalism by Willem Drees . I haven’t posted much on science and religion (one of my great interests), so I thought I’d dust this off and share it.

Religion, Science, and NaturalismWilliem Drees hopes to develop an understanding of religion in a world that is understood scientifically. Science, for Drees, is descriptive of reality as a whole and is the preeminent way that we gain information about our world. Even in the introduction Drees argues that challenges from science should result in religious changes.
He argues that the most adequate view of the world is naturalism, specifically a ‘hard naturalism’ where human behavior is viewed as one of many objective events in nature.

Interestingly, he admits this description of his view of reality is a metaphysical position that involves several aspects: a.) there is no supernatural realm distinct from the natural world b.) all entities made of same constituents, c.) physics give us the best available description of reality, d.) description or explanation of phenomena may require concepts beyond physics because of additional complexity of interactions, and e.) fundamental physics and cosmology form a boundary where questions (that he calls limit questions) about the naturalist perspective arise.

From this Drees argues that religion should be approached in the same way as all human phenomena. He believes that eventually all human behavior will be describable from a behavioral standpoint. From here, Drees gives a chart that describes the interaction of theology (from Lindbeck’s three categories) with new advances in science.

Since one of the prevailing metaphors in the science theology debate is the ‘conflict metaphor’, Drees gives us a brief history of the interaction between religion and science using the ‘Galileo incident’ and the development of Darwinian evolution. With the ‘Galileo incident’ we see a good description of the major issues regarding hermeneutics and exegetical authority that lay behind the typical presentation seen when representing the ‘conflict’ between science and theology. Here Drees points out that members of the Church and the Academy were on both sides of the argument and the entire affair was much more complex than is commonly believed.

He then describes the debate of Huxley and Wilberforce regarding Darwinian evolution with the same thick description. Drees reminds the reader that the conflict was as much an inter-disciplinary rivalry as a conflict between science and theology.  Once again we see that there are members of the Church and the Academy on both sides of the issue. This is an interesting and important chapter, but as we see further in the book it appears Drees wants to do more than reduce the conflict between the two fields.

Drees then begins a discussion of theology and knowledge of the world. This discussion begins with divine action and the challenges presented especially by the overwhelming lawful behavior of natural processes. Here, he describes and interacts with a few modes of divine action. First is Polkinghorne’s understanding of divine action in unpredictable processes where God exerts a non-physical informational input into undetermined processes thus influencing causal events. Drees disagrees with this argument by stating that we cannot say that there is divine causality in unpredictability and describes this as a remnant of God-of-the-gaps even though it is not an epistemological gap.

He then interacts with the ‘top-down causation’ of Peacocke and others. Here God exerts control in the world-as-a-whole in an analogous way to the mind asserting control over the body. Drees disagrees with this approach as well and points to two ‘gaps’ that he believes might be legitimate for God’s activity: human subjectivity and the existence of the world. As a whole, Drees seems very skeptical about the entire program of the integration of science and theology.

Drees then begins a description of theology and knowledge of human nature. Here he goes into a few details regarding experience and the naturalistic explanation resulting from modern advances in the neurosciences. From here, we see a discussion of the evolution of traditions: specifically morality and religion. Here he argues that the evolutionary view of morality need not be in conflict with the overall benefit of morals in a society. In the area of religious evolution, he describes a few different models including the view that God ‘is natural selection’ and the prophetic view of what is and what ought to be that is intrinsic to the human person.

Finally, we see the author announce his position on science, naturalism, and religion. Unfortunately, this is not as rewarding as one might hope. Science is the preeminent cognitive exercise. It can be understood naturally without losing significance. Reality is naturalistic. Religion is simply a phenomenon within that reality. Although he writes that seeing religious as functional does not deny the reference to reality, what appears is a very limited view of God and religion.

For Drees, religion turns out to be a functional necessity of evolution that keeps us from being too aggressive in our post-hunter/gatherer societies and God is an ultimately transcendent non-temporal possibility. Give me a break.

The promise of answers to the limit questions proposes throughout by Drees (why is there something rather than nothing, etc.?) turns out to be limited as well. God may be behind the whole process, and we can have a sense of wonder at existence and see this as a version of faith. We end with Drees admission that he is from a particular tradition, that of liberal European Christianity, and thus participates in this particular ‘form’ of relating to the ‘great’ transcendent God. Although this is not particularly better than any other form, it is important that we analyze these traditions in our new evolutionary contexts, and reform them in the light of modern science. In my opinion, Drees goes a long way to say that he is a naturalistic Deist.

The Prayer of Nicodemus

….whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you. Matthew 6:6

This morning, I was re-reading Brain McClaren’s The Secret Message of Jesus: Uncovering the Truth that Could Change Everything. In chapter 5, as McClaren underscores the hiddenness inherent in Jesus’ ministry, he writes about Nicodemus.

As I was reading this, another connection came to mind. The way that Nicodemus approaches Jesus is almost a picture of the kind of prayer written about in Matthew 6:6. Nicodemus approaches Jesus under the cover of darkness, a prayer in secret (John 3:2). He then praises Jesus and acknowledges his intimate connection with God, something I find highly unusual given the portrait of Pharisees in the Gospels.

Nicodemus then proceeds to wrestle with Jesus in the conversation. Acknowledgment and struggle provides a great picture of prayer. We go to Jesus because, like Peter, we have nowhere else to turn. “Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and know that you are the Holy One of God (John 6:68-69).” Yet, in spite of this realization, prayer is often a struggle. Jesus offers Nicodemus difficult images and challenges, to which Nicodemus responds with stubborn literalism.

Nicodemus provides a rich image for me. I can picture myself sitting on a rock wall having the same conversation with Jesus – awed by his presence, yet struggling to wrap myself around his words. Perhaps it should encourage us that it is only after the struggle that Jesus leads him into the deep mystery of faith.

For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. “Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him. Those who believe in him are not condemned; but those who do not believe are condemned already, because they have not believed in the name of the only Son of God. And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil. For all who do evil hate the light and do not come to the light, so that their deeds may not be exposed. But those who do what is true come to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that their deeds have been done in God.” John 3:16-21

Nicodemus really doesn’t do a lot of talking in this prayerful conversation. Instead he receives a strong challenge to move from seeking Jesus in the darkness to move into the light, love, and forgiveness of God given and revealed in the Son. Perhaps this is our challenge as well: to prayerfully approach the Triune God in secret and then to move out of that dark place of challenge and praise to share the light that we’ve received, namely the challenge of God’s strong Christocentric love.

My Inner Church Father

Saint Justin MartyrJust took the test at The Way of the Fathers (h/t Gavin & Andy B.), and looks like I’m St. Justin Martyr.

“You have a positive and hopeful attitude toward the world. You think that nature, history, and even the pagan philosophers were often guided by God in preparation for the Advent of the Christ. You find “seeds of the Word” in unexpected places. You’re patient and willing to explain the faith to unbelievers.”

Is it any surprise that three MethoBloggers can take the same six question quiz and get three different results? Of course not!

Easter Quote of the Day

American theologian Ron Sider was once chatting with German theologian Wolfhart Pannenberg about Jesus’ resurrection. Pannenberg repeated at least twice in the conversation, “The evidence for Jesus’ resurrection is so strong that nobody would question it except for two things: first, it is a very unusual event; and second, if you believe it happened, you have to change the way you live.” (h/t Wikiletics)

The Eucharist of Solomon – 1 Kings 4

EucharistI’ve finished Hauerwas’ commentary on Matthew and have turned to Peter Leithart’s work on 1 & 2 Kings. So far, so good. Even though I disagree with Leithart on some of the theological implications he draws at a few points, this is still an extremely rich theological commentary on 1 & 2 Kings, a book I’ve never really studied. I highly recommend it.

In chapter 4, we see Israel flourishing under the rule of Solomon, who is a new Adam for the Israelites as well as one who fulfills the rule of Joshua. In verse 4:20, we find the Israelites celebrating this reign, “Judah and Israel were as numerous as the sand by the sea; they ate and drank and were happy (NRSV).” These activities, “eating, drinking, and rejoicing,” were the activities of the central sanctuary and of worship (p. 51), and they are also the joy we experience in Holy Communion.

In the next verses (4:22-23), we find a list that has no apparent connections with Eucharist on the surface,

“Solomon’s provision for one day was thirty cors of choice flour, and sixty cors of meal, 23 ten fat oxen, and twenty pasture-fed cattle, one hundred sheep, besides deer, gazelles, roebucks, and fatted fowl.

Yet Leithart brings out some very fascinating connections,

Solomon’s menu includes meat that is not part of Israel’s sacrificial feasting. Sacrificial animals represent Israel, while clean wild animals symbolize Gentile ‘God-fearers.’ As Gentile nations are incorporated into the body of Solomon’s kingdom, so ‘Gentile’ animals are incorporated into his physical body (p. 51).”

In this passage a simple list of seven animals prepared for Solomon’s table become a portrait of God’s table hospitality. “The Gentiles eat the crumbs that fall from his table, and this typifies the greater Solomon who sets up a table in the center of the world, one so abundant that it feeds humanity (p. 51).”

Next Sunday, most of us will celebrate Holy Communion. As we prepare for this gracious feast, let’s remember the Solomonic feast. It really seems to be a celebration of magnificent proportions. How much more then should those of us who worship the one greater than Solomon be involved in a glorious celebration. Even though we will remember the bitterness of the Passion, we shouldn’t forget the table we set is the table open to all people – a table of forgiveness, joy, hospitality, and grand celebration!

(graphic from adoremus.org) 

The Right Way to Pray

PrayerMy daughter was getting ready for bed last night, and we started to say our bedtime prayers. Like many four year olds, she’s really a talker. So lately instead of praying out loud myself, I’ve asked her to do the bedtime prayer. It always starts like this:

“Daddy, how do we start?” “Well honey, we usually start by saying ‘Thank you God’ or ‘Dear God’ or something like that.” So she starts and begins by thanking God for everything. Last night, however, she had this brilliant insight. She said, “Daddy, do you think we can sing our prayers?” Astounded by her monastic leanings I said, “Of course we can!” You’ll have to imagine the tune, but I think you can make do.
“Thank you God for Mommy, Daddy, and Bubby. I love them so much and we love you too. Thank you for this house you picked out for us, because we really like it…especially the ceiling.” This was followed by some mumbled song-praying, but I distinctly made out the words unicorn and castle. We closed with a communal prayer as she reminded me, “Now daddy, let’s sing Amen together!”

We then had a brief theological discussion when I told her that I thought God probably loved that prayer. She said, “Do you think God heard it? He doesn’t come around here.” Of course, all four year olds have a deep grasp of the invisibility and omnipresence of God, so I said, “Yes honey, I know he heard it.”

She then rattled off some serious apophatic postmodern theologizing on the nature of God. “Daddy…God is like when you take paper and you cut it out with scissors and then you have the parts left over…” Of course, this was far more than my inflexible calcified adult mind could handle, so I said, “You’re exactly right. Now go to sleep.” And she did.

The Movement of the Father

Yesterday I preached on the Prodigal Son. I noticed something interesting that didn’t make it into the sermon, so I thought I’d post it here. There are two verses that really caught my attention.

So he set off and went to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him. Luke 15:20

Then he became angry and refused to go in. His father came out and began to plead with him. Luke 15:28

Both verses emphasize the movement of the father. The father moves out to embrace the sinner, and he moves out to embrace the bitter firstborn. What does this tell us? This father isn’t passive. This is a father who won’t let his status stand in the way of reaching out to those he loves.

There can be no doubt that this is a reference to the God Jesus prayed to as Father. He reaches out to the flagrant sinner; he embraces the bitter hardworking firstborn. He does this all on the terms of those who are lost, rather than on the terms of his own status.

So, who are we called to be? We’re called to be those who “go,” and this shouldn’t be a surprise. After all, from Abraham to Jesus, God’s people have been called to go. Abraham was called to go and form a new nation blessed to be a blessing, and Jesus calls his disciples to go into all the world making disciples and baptizing them (Matthew 28:19). A missional God will lead to a missional Church.

Borg & Crossan’s Understanding of Truth

I’ve been reading Marcus J. Borg & John Dominic Crossan’s book Last Week: A Day-by-Day Account of Jesus’s Final Week in Jerusalem. For those of you who know me, you may find this very surprising considering the things I’ve had to say about these two over the years. In some ways, I’ve been pleasantly surprised. Their description of Mark’s gospel and Jesus’s confrontation with the domination system of Rome is excellent and well worth reading. However, as I entered the final chapter on Easter, I was very intrigued by their understanding of history and truth.

So one should not think of history as “true” and parable as “fiction” (and therefore not nearly as important). Only since the Enlightenment of the seventeenth century have many people thought this way, for in the Enlightenment Western culture began to identify truth with “factuality.” Indeed, this identification is one of the central characteristics of modern Western culture.

…but parable, independently of historical factuality can be profoundly true. Indeed, it may be that the most important truths can be expressed only in parable (p. 194).

These statements come in the description of Jesus’ resurrection as a parable. They hesitate to say whether or not the event of Jesus’ resurrection is historically factual, but from other statements I would highly doubt they would hold to this.

Now, I understand a relational account of epistemology and truth. As a former scientist of sorts, I can appreciate the idea that knowledge and truth are more than cold hard facts isolated in a test tube. In fact, I even feel that I operate in a fairly postmodern paradigm in this regard.

However, I still have enough modern rationalist left inside to hold the questions I asked in an earlier post on truth. So again I ask, would you go to a physician who held the same view of truth as Borg and Crossan? “I’m sorry ma’am, but frankly, truth is more than connection with factuality, and I don’t ‘feel’ like you have cancer in spite of what the tests show. You’re free to go home!” Am I saying you can verify the resurrection scientifically? No, but I really don’t believe you can dismiss its historical reality and still believe it’s “true.”

Addendum: OK, I think I know one of the things that bothers me about Borg and Crossan.  It seems that they have been influenced by the notion that certain things outside the realm of our modern rational understanding cannot occur in a literal sense (i.e. resurrection).  So they start out of modernity, then shift into a postmodern conception of truth in order to somehow cling to the Christian doctrine of resurrection.  Modern skepticism leading to postmodern acceptance on other grounds.  It seems that if they were operating more consistently out of a postmodern paradigm, they would not deny the resurrection in the first place.  They want to speak relevantly, it seems, to a modern world that cannot accept things like miracles, resurrection, etc., yet use a postmodern paradigm to speak to that world about the “reality” of resurrection.  It seems like they want to have their epistemological cake and eat it too.

Borg & Crossan’s Understanding of Truth

I’ve been reading Marcus J. Borg & John Dominic Crossan’s book Last Week: A Day-by-Day Account of Jesus’s Final Week in Jerusalem. For those of you who know me, you may find this very surprising considering the things I’ve had to say about these two over the years. In some ways, I’ve been pleasantly surprised. Their description of Mark’s gospel and Jesus’s confrontation with the domination system of Rome is excellent and well worth reading. However, as I entered the final chapter on Easter, I was very intrigued by their understanding of history and truth.

So one should not think of history as “true” and parable as “fiction” (and therefore not nearly as important). Only since the Enlightenment of the seventeenth century have many people thought this way, for in the Enlightenment Western culture began to identify truth with “factuality.” Indeed, this identification is one of the central characteristics of modern Western culture.

…but parable, independently of historical factuality can be profoundly true. Indeed, it may be that the most important truths can be expressed only in parable (p. 194).

These statements come in the description of Jesus’ resurrection as a parable. They hesitate to say whether or not the event of Jesus’ resurrection is historically factual, but from other statements I would highly doubt they would hold to this.

Now, I understand a relational account of epistemology and truth. As a former scientist of sorts, I can appreciate the idea that knowledge and truth are more than cold hard facts isolated in a test tube. In fact, I even feel that I operate in a fairly postmodern paradigm in this regard.

However, I still have enough modern rationalist left inside to hold the questions I asked in an earlier post on truth. So again I ask, would you go to a physician who held the same view of truth as Borg and Crossan? “I’m sorry ma’am, but frankly, truth is more than connection with factuality, and I don’t ‘feel’ like you have cancer in spite of what the tests show. You’re free to go home!” Am I saying you can verify the resurrection scientifically? No, but I really don’t believe you can dismiss its historical reality and still believe it’s “true.”

Addendum: OK, I think I know one of the things that bothers me about Borg and Crossan.  It seems that they have been influenced by the notion that certain things outside the realm of our modern rational understanding cannot occur in a literal sense (i.e. resurrection).  So they start out of modernity, then shift into a postmodern conception of truth in order to somehow cling to the Christian doctrine of resurrection.  Modern skepticism leading to postmodern acceptance on other grounds.  It seems that if they were operating more consistently out of a postmodern paradigm, they would not deny the resurrection in the first place.  They want to speak relevantly, it seems, to a modern world that cannot accept things like miracles, resurrection, etc., yet use a postmodern paradigm to speak to that world about the “reality” of resurrection.  It seems like they want to have their epistemological cake and eat it too.