The IM Saturday Monks Brunch: June 22, 2019 (Church Edition)

Hope (Indiana) United Methodist Church (2016)

The IM Saturday Monks Brunch: June 22, 2019
Church Edition

Church and the Autistic…

“As a Christian, I believe that worship is primarily intended to glorify God,” he wrote, “and may have misinterpreted your Evensong as an actual worship service, at which my son’s expressions must surely be pleasing to God, the experience of other worshipers being secondary.”

That was the letter angry father Paul Rimmer sent to the Rev. Stephen Cherry, dean of King’s College Chapel at Cambridge University. Rimmer had taken his two sons to a choral evensong service on June 16. One of them, Tristan, has autism, and loves music. However, his condition leads him to call out at times, and an usher at the Chapel asked Mr. Rimmer to remove his son from the service, telling them that the dean wanted them to leave.

Catherine Pepinster at RNS describes what happened later.

The dean replied with an apology, also on Facebook, in which he clarified that he had not himself asked for the Rimmers to leave but took responsibility for what had happened. “Sometimes we fail,” he wrote, “and I realize that we especially failed you and Tristan on Sunday afternoon.” The dean and Rimmer met last week to discuss how King’s College Chapel can do better.

Rimmer’s post has led to broader soul-searching about how houses of worship treat people with autism and others with special needs. He has been inundated with messages recalling similar incidents elsewhere and promising him and Tristan a proper welcome at their services. He has connected several organizations with expertise in autism with Cherry so that the chapel can get informed advice.

…Rimmer said that he thought it could be appropriate for special services to be sometimes held for people with special needs but that it is also important for people like his son to be welcome at all services unless there are exceptional circumstances — such as a recording or broadcast.

According to the National Autistic Society in the U.K., more than a quarter of people with autism and their families have been asked to leave a public place because of behavior linked to their autism.

The article goes on to talk about some of the good things churches and denominations are doing to make welcome those who have disabilities, and indeed, to learn from them and appreciate their gifts.

“The members of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable.” (1 Corinthians 12:22)

Church and racial justice…

Pastor Benjamin D. Wayman is pastor of a mostly white congregation in a small, rural town in Illinois that is likewise mostly white. However, after the events in Ferguson, Missouri in 2014, they began to study and talk about what the gospel has to say about racism. They started to take action in a small, simple way. They put up a “Black Lives Matter” sign on the church lawn.

In an article at Christian Century, he tells what happened next:

Our sign was stolen the first week it was displayed. We replaced it. All Lives Matter signs began appearing on lawns all over town, along with “We support our officers” bumper stickers and shop decals…

…Our church has lost count of how many times our BLM sign has been stolen. We have received angry letters from local citizens (including parishioners from a sister church) and anonymous phone calls, and had an ALM sign put up after someone stole our BLM sign. Obviously we struck a nerve. Our church became known in our community as the “Black Lives Matter church.” But congregants at St. Paul’s often joke that we should accompany our sign with one that says #whitepeopletrying.

However, the pastor has been learning a deeper lesson through this experience. A lesson about himself and his own discipleship in this area.

Even though I’m a pastor at St. Paul’s, I have not placed a BLM sign on my own lawn. When I had to call the local heating and cooling company to fix the air conditioner at St. Paul’s and then again a day later at my home, I wondered whether they would connect the dots between my church’s witness and my own, and I was nervous.

It has been said that for the privileged, equality feels like oppression. I would add that for white people like me, pushback feels like persecution. The prospect that I would, on behalf of my neighbor, place myself or family at risk makes me nervous. Herein lies my deeper sin.

Not yours alone, my friend.

Church and the LGBTQ community…

Here in Indianapolis this week, the Indianapolis Archdiocese of the Roman Catholic Church notified Brebeuf Jesuit Preparatory School of a canonical decree, stating that the Archbishop will no longer formally recognize Brebeuf as a Catholic school in the archdiocese. Why? Because administrators refused to fire a teacher who is married to a same-sex partner.

According to Brian G. Paulson, provincial for the Midwest Jesuits, the school and the Archdiocese have been fighting for two years about the teacher in question. The split will have a limited impact on the school, but it may isolate the school from the larger Catholic community. Brebeuf is an independent Catholic school, not governed by the archdiocese, and administrative decisions are usually left to the school. The school has a nondiscrimination policy that protects school employees and others in the school community from discrimination based on factors such as race, religion, sex, gender identity, sexual orientation and marital status. Only the president, principal, religious studies teacher and campus minister are required to be staffed by practicing Catholics.

This is the second public situation in the Indy Catholic community. Roncalli High School has been under fire since it suspended a gay school counselor last year. Shelly Fitzgerald was placed on administrative leave over her marriage to a woman. Her dismissal has led to an intense public discussion throughout the city.

This new situation has further stirred up the debate.

Read coverage from the Indianapolis Star

Church and the community…

Caroline Cunningham tells the story of St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church in Philadelphia:

St. Stephen’s, an Episcopal church in Center City Philadelphia, isn’t open on Easter. There are no sermons on Sundays. It doesn’t have any members. And yet this castlelike Gothic Revival building on 10th Street is still a functioning, active church — just not in the ways you might expect.

Rather than opening on Sundays, the church operates on a four-day schedule, with midday services Monday through Thursday. And rather than focusing on growing the congregation, St. Stephen’s is fully invested in being present for the community, practicing a true open-door policy that makes it a place of support for anyone in need.

I encourage you to go to RNS and read the story of this amazing congregation and its creative, community-centered approach to being God’s people in the world.

Talk about Jesus-shaped!

Church and camp…

An article in The Lutheran tells the stories of several young adults who are serving God but who may or may not attend local congregations. Instead, they consider camp their “church home.”

For Eli Neitzel, worship happens under the stars, in the flickering glow of a campfire, surrounded by trees. At his church, you won’t find hymnals, pews or Sunday best. Instead, it’s muddy shoes, sweaty bodies and an intergenerational chorus of voices accompanied by guitar. 

Neitzel’s home church is Carol Joy Holling Camp in Ashland, Neb., where he’s spent every summer since he was a high school freshman. Now, Neitzel, 26, is a teacher who serves on the camp’s staff during his summer break. “The reason why I love to call camp my church home is [it’s] the strongest place where I can see Christ through others,” he said. “It’s more of a family.”

Don Johnson, executive director of Lutheran Outdoor Ministries, said Neitzel’s feelings are typical—several young adults connected with LOM call these camps, rather than ELCA congregations, their primary church home.

Some of the young adults interviewed came from small ELCA congregations where they had few peers. At camp they found the community for which they were longing. Others like the group-building that happens in the camp setting, which doesn’t always take place in church. Camp provides meaningful leadership opportunities. It also tends to be more inclusive and provides a relaxed atmosphere where many feel more free to be themselves.

When some people think of a “church home,” they find it in God’s great outdoors. At camp.

Church and parking…

• • •

Sometimes I just need some CHURCH!

Another Look: This is about the second turning

Outskirts of Paris. Van Gogh

Hi, my name is Mike, and I am a recovering separatist.

[Hi, Mike!]

It all started when I trusted Christ at the end of my senior year in high school. Conversion (which I now more thoughtfully consider a “spiritual re-awakening”) to me was like rounding a bend in the highway and driving straight into a blinding sun so bright that it washed out everything else in sight.

Turn your eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in his wonderful face,
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of his glory and grace.

Before that experience my life consisted of three major interests: (1) Girls, (2) Baseball, and (3) Music (and the accompanying lifestyle). When I met Jesus, I found I didn’t have to give up girls, because there were lots of pretty, nice Christian girls. I also discovered I could keep enjoying music. Back in those days before the commercialization of CCM, “Jesus Music” was emerging, and it was as important to the vitality of our Christian lives as the Bible. Of course, my old “worldly” LPs had to go, so I threw them in the dumpster (how often have I regretted that!). My heart was filled with fresh new sounds and for awhile, that was enough. I did, however, give up baseball (how often have I regretted that!). I had no conception of how sports fit with following Jesus, so out it went.

The world behind me, the cross before me,
No turning back, no turning back.

I had all Christian friends all the time. The oft-quoted statistic — that most new believers have no non-Christian friends within two years of their conversion — proved true of me in a much shorter period of time (how often have I regretted that!). Within a year I had decided to attend Bible College and pursue ministry. My dad wisely tried to convince me to get a broader education and work toward a career in something I could fall back on if church work didn’t pan out, but I was too infatuated and immature to listen to him (how often have I regretted that!).

Three years of total immersion in Bible college — the cut your hair, wear a tie, no holding hands, no dancing, no movies, no rock music, room inspection every morning, mandatory daily chapel kind of Bible school — separated me from every facet of life in the world at large. I might as well have been stranded on a desert island. At the time, I didn’t mind. Looking back, I can see all kinds of ways it may have stunted my growth.

On to my first pastorate. Back into the world? Well…uh…sorta. It was still pretty much all Christians all the time that formed my world. We lived in the mountains. No TV. Listened to a ballgame every now and then. Tentatively dipped my toes in the water and started to attend an occasional movie. A little bit of folk music found its way into the house through the radio. I occasionally had a conversation with neighbors, but still felt like a newborn foal every time I did, stumbling around trying to find something we had in common to talk about.

Then we moved back to Chicago for seminary. After a year of school, we experienced a great disappointment. My funding source dried up. I had to go to work and drop out of school for awhile. An electronics factory became my daily world. Nary a Christian in sight (at least that I knew about). I made a few friends and was surprised at how much I enjoyed their company.

Soon I found my way back to school and, providentially, into pastoral work once more. This wasn’t the mountains where a person could hide out. Serving in the city began to drag me, kicking and screaming, out of my naive isolation from the world. I took my first course in Clinical Pastoral Education and was introduced to life and death in the hospital wards. My professors at seminary, to a person, said repeatedly that being in an academic atmosphere was fine, but if you really want to serve on the front lines of ministry, get out into the church and serve a community. It resonated. I was starting to see a difference between church work and the work of the church.

So we moved to Indianapolis and I served on the staff of a non-denominational church. All in all, it was a pretty good experience, but I struggled with many aspects of it. For one thing, our family was growing, and our children were starting to get involved in school and sports in the community. I had a conviction about sending our kids to public school, and I started coaching Little League. Through my sons, I got baseball back!

However, we were swimming upstream in the local conservative Christian culture. Where we live is a highly “churched” area, and I watched as Christians changed churches like yesterday’s clothes because of conflicting “convictions.” Many home-schooled their children (despite living in one of the most conservative states in the U.S.) because of the “ungodliness” of public education. Parents forbade their kids from participating in youth group because of an emphasis on reaching the lost and including them in activities. I saw people whose time and energy was totally taken up by church programs and activities. Churches began building mega-centers to provide full service, family-friendly activities for people of all ages, creating a world folks need never leave, allowing them to avoid worldly contamination. I started to feel out of place.

Following our kids’ activities, coaching baseball and working with young people and their families in the community was a constant joy. We had a “neighborhood.” We spent a lot of time together. For the first time in my adult life, I started to feel like I had a life outside of “churchianity.”

We moved down the road, and I took a senior pastor position in a sister church. It was a hard experience for a lot of reasons, but my own inward struggles made it even more difficult. As I look back, I must be honest and admit that, in a lot of ways, I was just not getting the “church thing” anymore and how it was supposed to work simultaneously with a life in the world.

Just before the ministry ended, I got involved with a family we knew from baseball whose son was terminally ill. Along with other members of the community, we spent hours at the hospital and walked with them through their difficult journey. The bonds formed then remain to this day. In the process, I received a taste of ministry outside the church walls that transformed my life. It was only a couple of months later that I was hired to work with hospice, and now my parish is as wide as central Indiana.

I never have been what one might call a wild-eyed, hard-edged fundamentalist separatist. I was just a kid who was found by Jesus and thought that meant the rest of my life should be different somehow — lived in a separate category from the ordinary course of human life. Now I know that becoming a Christian doesn’t put a person one step above the rest of the human race, or mean that one should separate from sharing common life experiences with one’s neighbors.

I’m still blown away by the grace and mercy of Jesus.

I still think the church is special, the amazing family of God in all times and places.

I just don’t want this whole “Christian thing” to keep me from being human.

By the way, I married a beautiful girl. I’m all about the music. And I got baseball back.

No longer does “the world grow strangely dim” when I look at Jesus. For some reason, when I’m most focused on him, the world takes on a strange, inviting beauty. And I’m ready every day to move more deeply into it with his kindness and love.

• • •

Two Poplars on a Road through the Hills. Van Gogh

This is…about the second turning.

In the first turning, a Christian experiences the transformation from a natural person to a spiritual person. Instead of the “self” being the center of life — exploring, cultivating, adoring it — God becomes the center. This miracle is brought forth by the Holy Spirit giving us new life in Christ. It is a necessary, indispensable, basic step.

But it is only a first step. The work of the Holy Spirit should not stop here but lead to a second turning in which the spiritual person again becomes natural.

• Walter Trobisch
Foreword to Out of the Saltshaker & into the World
by Rebecca Manley Pippert

God’s Good Earth: The Case for an Unfallen Creation, by Jon Garvey, Chapter 3 – Other Red Herrings

God’s Good Earth: The Case for an Unfallen Creation, by Jon Garvey
Chapter 3 – Other Red Herrings

We will continue our review of God’s Good Earth: The Case for an Unfallen Creation, by Jon Garvey.  Today is Chapter 3 – Other Red Herrings.  In this chapter, Jon looks at the main Scriptures outside the creation and garden narratives that are used to argue for a fallen creation.  First up, Genesis 6:11-13:

11.  Now the earth was corrupt in God’s sight and was full of violence. 12.  God saw how corrupt the earth had become, for all the people on earth had corrupted their ways. 13.  So God said to Noah, “I am going to put an end to all people, for the earth is filled with violence because of them. I am surely going to destroy both them and the earth.

The traditional interpretation is that because of humans even the animals are now wickedly violent and have to be destroyed too, along with the whole earth.  Jon makes two points; the first is that the blame for the corruption is laid on “all flesh” not the inanimate world including the thorns and thistles said to be altered by the fall. In the second place, if the “corruption” and “violence” referred to predation, parasitism, etc., then it is apparent that bringing a breeding colony into the ark would have no remedial effect at all.  Of course, as the NIV translation above shows “all flesh” is “all the people” and it is human sin that leads to human violence. Another major point of the flood story is that Noah remains tainted with sin vis-à-vis his later drunkenness.  Finally, why is creation purified from predation through the rescuing of carnivores?  In any case it is not only carnivores, but gentle herbivores too, who are destroyed in the flood.  

Next up is 1 John 5:19, “We know that we are children of God, and that the whole world is under the control of the evil one.”  I’ve seen a number of interpreters, especially Word-Faith charismatics, use this passage to imply all bad weather, hurricanes, tornadoes, floods, earthquakes, etc. are under the control of the devil and his “prince of Persia” type (Daniel 10:13) principalities and powers and wicked spirits in the heavenlies (Ephesians 6:12). To interpret it thus would, of course, be to deny the whole theology of nature we have seen so far in the Old Testament.  The simple explanation is that John means by “the world” the world of idolatrous desires i.e. the human world apart from God, not created nature.

A major passage that seems on its face to overturn the idea that creation is still “as created” is Romans 8:18-22:

18. I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. 19.  For the creation waits in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed. 20.  For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope 21.  that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God.

22.  We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time.

The whole context of the passage leads up to the assurance that our sufferings cannot separate us from the love of Christ; they are therefore particularly Christian sufferings. Secondly, Jon looks at some of the key words:

Creation:  It is an assumption that Paul means nature here.  He is drawing attention to death and life, angels and demons, present and future, all powers, height, and depth, but not a single one of them is subject to biological decay.  Jon says, “Conversely, Paul omits any reference to the ordinary animal world, or to the inanimate elements we consider most disordered and chaotic, such as earth, water, and atmosphere.”

Frustration: The word occurs 3 times in the NT where it means “sinful ignorance” or empty boasting”.  It corresponds to the Hebrew word hebel, which based on the Septuagint use, mainly in Ecclesiastes, refers to the futility of all human affairs, not the natural world.

Hope: The usual Greek word is used here, but the question is who is exercising hope?  Hope or dread for the future is entirely a human attribute.  The object of this hope is redemption and salvation from sin and death, which is the predominant meaning throughout the Bible.

Liberated: The NT use of this word is always either of liberation from human slavery, or from sin, or from the law.  It is never used of the non-human realm, so if nature is referenced it is in some figurative personification, rather than literally.

Bondage: The word in the NT covers human slavery or bondage to the law, and through it to sin.  It is never used of death per se, nor of course to decay.

Decay: Paul’s use of the word is always to do with mortality, not immorality.

Jon then reviews the church fathers through Augustine’s interpretation of the passage.  He says:

In summary, then, the early interpretations of Romans 8 is pretty varied, but refers in most cases (a) to some aspect of the rational creation, rather than to nature and (b) to the corruptibility inherent in our material condition rather than to the effects of the fall, Chrysostom being the only exception.

He concludes:

And so, Paul is suggesting in Romans 8, the natural creation (which he has personified for literary purposes) has been, from its original foundation, tied to mortality but longing for immortality, to corruption but awaiting incorruption, to the naturally empowered (psuchikos) but destined for the spiritually empowered (pneumatikos).

As it is, the salvation that God has now achieved by his own arm, through the incarnation of Christ, is in the wisdom of God far more glorious, and perhaps even the final state more wonderful.  But since what is to come is still unknown and indescribable, it is foolish to make the attempt.  But what is certain is that it was not how Creation was in the first chapter of Genesis, and therefore the pre-fall state is not what is being described in Romans 8, but the result of new creation in Christ.

Jon then deals with the Messianic prophecies in Isaiah, such as Isaiah 11:6-9 and 65:25:

6. The wolf will live with the lamb, the leopard will lie down with the goat, the calf and the lion and the yearling together; and a little child will lead them.  7. The cow will feed with the bear, their young will lie down together, and the lion will eat straw like the ox.  8. The infant will play near the cobra’s den, and the young child will put its hand into the viper’s nest.  9. They will neither harm nor destroy on all my holy mountain, for the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.

65:25 the wolf and the lamb will feed together, and the lion will eat straw like the ox, and dust will be the serpent’s food.  They will neither harm nor destroy on all my holy mountain,” says the Lord.

The argument is that these passages predict a return to the original state of Eden.  But Jon argues:

There is indeed a contrast, whatever the metaphorical context, between this present age and the age to come.  But is there any implication that this is a contrast between a damaged creation and a repaired one?  I would argue, rather, that it’s a contrast between the first, good creation and new, better creation.  This is a progression that actually goes back to Genesis 1, and helps us understand not why the present creation is “naturally evil”, because Scripture does not state that it is, but why it could be better than we find it.

The real problem with the so-called “traditional interpretation” is that is that it never appreciates the scriptures as literary works.  Scripture always has to be diced up into verses that then must be taken “literally”.  The grand literary sweep of a passage tends to be missed as “interpreters” bog down in minutiae. Prophetic symbolism is consistently missed.  That this is obvious can be seen by looking at Isaiah 65:20:

Never again will there be in it an infant who lives but a few days, or an old man who does not live out his years; the one who dies at a hundred will be thought a mere child; the one who fails to reach a hundred will be considered accursed.

Wait… what…?  What’s this about dying at one hundred years?  I thought when Jesus returns, the dead will be resurrected and NOBODY DIES ANYMORE?  What happened to: “For the perishable must clothe itself with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality. When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: “Death has been swallowed up in victory.” (1 Corinthians 15:53-54)  See the problem with literalism?  Either Isaiah or Paul is wrong, they both can’t be right, can they? 

Or maybe, as Jon points out, Isaiah is engaging in the prophetic symbolism of the ideal Israelite farmer who is dwelling in harmony on the slopes of Mount Zion, close to the king and to God’s temple, “everyone under his own vine and his own fig tree” (Micah 4:4).  Jon says: “Then the animal references are understood in this context, rather than as a description of nature in the raw.  In each case a wild animal is paired with the livestock to which, in this present age, the latter might fall prey, to the loss of the farmer.  No wild herbivores are mentioned.  It is more to do with the Israelite landholder dwelling in God’s promised safety than the correction of a cruel natural order.” 

Damaris’s New Blog and Her Invitation: Come Join Me!

Come Join Me!
by Damaris Zehner

When Chaplain Mike first took over Internet Monk from Michael Spencer, I wrote something every week. I enjoyed sharing ideas and being pushed to write regularly. In fact, I enjoyed it so much that I began working on books. As you know, I published one a few years ago, The Between Time: Savoring the Moments of Everyday Life, which showcased some of my iMonk posts. I’ve stopped contributing to the site, but I haven’t stopped writing. My current project has a different focus.

I’ve been convinced for some years now that our institutions, habits, and even aspirations don’t seem to fit us well. Schools, businesses, governments, towns, food, technology, communities – all fail to work toward our health and happiness. The proof is the anxiety, depression, suicide, eating disorders, and hoarding that affect people, and the pollution, erosion, extinction, and climate change that affect the environment. I’m convinced that one cause of the mismatch between our society and us is that we don’t understand what we truly are and what we truly need.

I’ve started a blog to address these issues, called Integrity of Life: Human-Shaped Society for a Post-Industrial World.

In my posts I anticipate a difficult future for our culture and for our species and consider what we need to do to prepare. Little life hacks won’t be sufficient to meet a world of depleted resources and erratic climate; we have to make fundamental changes in our worldview and behavior. However, I’m not a prophet of doom. The apocalyptic thinking that’s so popular these days is really just another way of avoiding hard choices. I have hope that our post-industrial future in many ways will be a good one. The transition will be hard as people scramble for increasingly scarce resources and struggle with the impacts of climate change, but the result may be a lifestyle that is better suited to our human nature and our environment and is no longer an exercise in hubris. None of us will see it, but we can still imagine a better society and live now in a way that mitigates the hardships and advances the benefits of the post-industrial world.

I would love for my blog to become a place of challenging conversations and varied ideas, the way Internet Monk has been. I’m aiming to create a new book out of the blog posts, and your feedback – and pushback – will be invaluable to me. But more importantly, I’d like the encouragement and camaraderie of like-minded people. I’ll be posting new essays once a week, which will give me time to respond to everyone who comments. So please, come join me!

• • •

INTEGRITY OF LIFE
Damaris Zehner’s blog

Another Look: Drawn to the Religionless

Nashville Cowboy (2017)

Another Look: Drawn to the Religionless

I often ask myself why a “Christian instinct” often draws me more to the religionless people than to the religious, by which I don’t in the least mean with any evangelizing intention, but, I might almost say, “in brotherhood.” While I’m often reluctant to mention God by name to religious people — because that name somehow seems to me here not to ring true, and I feel myself to be slightly dishonest (it’s particularly bad when others start to talk in religious jargon; I then dry up almost completely and feel awkward and uncomfortable) — to people with no religion I can on occasion mention him by name quite calmly and as a matter of course. Religious people speak of God when human knowledge (perhaps simply because they are too lazy to think) has come to an end, or when human resources fail — in fact it is always the deus ex machina that they bring on to the scene, either for the apparent solution of insoluble problems, or as strength in human failure — always, that is to say, exploiting human weakness or human boundaries. Of necessity, that can go on only till people can by their own strength push these boundaries somewhat further out, so that God becomes superfluous as a deus ex machina. I’ve come to be doubtful of talking about any human boundaries (is even death, which people now hardly fear, and is sin, which they now hardly understand, still a genuine boundary today?). It always seems to me that we are trying anxiously in this way to reserve some space for God; I should like to speak of God not on the boundaries but at the center, not in weaknesses but in strength; and therefore not in death and guilt but in man’s life and goodness.

• Dietrich Bonhoeffer
Letter to Eberhard Bethge, 21 July 1944

• • •

More from Bonhoeffer and one of his last letters today. I’ll admit that I was rather startled to read the words above. Not that I object to his sentiment, but given that my favorite Bonhoeffer book is Life Together, with its sublime consideration of Christian fellowship and intentional community, it is striking to hear him speak like this.

But I love this passage. I can relate.

Bonhoeffer complains here that religious people often speak of God when they can’t think of another answer for the unexplainable or when they express a need for God to provide some lack they perceive. However, as answers become available or solutions apparent, God no longer fits in the equation. Christians then have two choices: they can stubbornly cling to their old interpretation or forget it, chalk it up to limited knowledge in the past and find another insoluble matter of today for which God is the only answer. In this way we (for I am one of these religious folks too) constantly find ourselves “trying anxiously…to reserve some space for God.” Talk of God at times seems forced, born of fear that we might somehow steal glory from him if we embrace human capacity, knowledge, or achievement.

On the other hand, at times there can be a sense of ease when speaking of God to non-religious folks as God comes up naturally in conversation about matters of life.

I have found this to be true in my work as a hospice chaplain. When I enter a home, I often find myself among non-observant people. They don’t speak religious language or have religious habits. Most are just ordinary Midwestern folks who have lived in nominally Christian, common sense realistic environments and who have spent their years working, raising families, and dealing with the ordinary stuff of life.

And these are the things I talk with them about. I notice the pictures and knickknacks in their homes. I learn about their family backgrounds, significant events in their lives, their work, their hobbies. I try to take interest in what interests them, even if it’s something about which I don’t care much.

Sometimes we talk specifically about God, usually when they bring it up. In the context of a friendly talk about life I discover that people are often keen to consider spiritual or religious matters. As we converse, I stay away from jargon and try to keep it simple, but it’s amazing to me how these discussions can plumb the depths, even if the language remains basic.

I guess the point is that most of these folks haven’t learned the unwritten rules of religious discourse that pious Christians develop. They don’t feel pressured to insert God into a sentence or into their view of a situation just because it is expected. They are not worried about being seen as team players. Nor are they anxious to defend God. Unlike the Sunday School child, they don’t think every answer has to be “Jesus.” But they almost always welcome someone who will listen to them, pray for them, and speak kindly to them, and in that context spiritual language finds its natural place in our conversations.

Bonhoeffer notes that religious people tend to focus on matters of sin, guilt, and death — the “boundary” matters which only God can take care of. I wouldn’t deny that such things must be addressed, nor can I imagine that he as a Lutheran pastor would omit doing so. But I hear him saying that perhaps we Christians spend so much time at the boundaries that we are missing God’s presence in “man’s life and goodness.”

As a result, the “God” we are speaking of in our God-language may not be truly representative of the Creator and Incarnate One who redeemed us that we might be fully human and not less.

Monday with Michael Spencer: How We Sound to Those Who Don’t Believe

Note from CM: This is a really old Michael Spencer reflection, but one with which I identify more and more each day. It talks about the kind of craziness that is simply taken for granted in religious subcultures (in this case, the world of Christian evangelicalism/fundamentalism). Many have lived in this bubble for so long and have been formed to think and talk in certain ways that we simply can’t imagine anyone would question our jargon and persuasive techniques. I think it’s one reason why Bonhoeffer eventually said he felt more comfortable with the religionless than with the saints.

Even if you are not from this subculture, Michael’s words stand as a warning to us all. Don’t just assume that your little world is the be all and end all, and don’t expect others to understand if you don’t work at listening first, then speaking.

• • •

Monday with Michael Spencer

Today I listened to the preacher in chapel. Really, really closely for a change.

It probably wasn’t a good idea. See, God is giving me a gift. I’m starting to hear sermons like non-Christians hear them. I’m starting to feel what they feel, and it’s disconcerting.

It’s scary. Some of my Christian friends won’t like this, but that may be a good sign.

The first thing I noticed was the insulting approach tactics. The speaker had an object lesson, and took quite a while to work through the object lesson. In someone’s universe, people being forced to listen to a talk will have their minds pried open by these kinds of illustrations. You supposedly totally put aside that you are in church, that you are going to be evangelized, and you just think about the box of donuts or the picture of the puppy, or whatever. Then, while your mind is relaxed….bang! The real point comes flying out of the blue and jumps into your open mind.

This is cool. No…this is stupid. Anyone who is taken in by this sort of thing shouldn’t be subjected to religious appeals anyway. It’s unethical. But this is the way we approach unbelievers that we want to listen to us. We goof with them, and treat them like they have no idea what’s up.

Then it’s assumed we need Jesus. If you don’t know who Jesus is, you are lost right now. But assuming you know what Mel Gibson’s movie was about, you get at least something of what’s going to be the main issue of the evening. The speaker say that you need Jesus more than he says anything else. Over and over. We need Jesus. If you are awake to what’s going on, you know that it’s likely to prove true that anything and everything will be said until you finally admit you need Jesus. Does this seem like trying to get you to “break?” Yes.

There is, behind this appeal, a kind of crass sales pitch that really can make you angry. It’s like being told by the guy in your living room that you need a vacuum cleaner or Tupperware. You can’t help but feel that your “need” is really about this guy’s need to be right, or to make the sale. What you “need” is hardly his business, especially standing up there without really knowing you at all.

It must be insulting to constantly be told you need Jesus by someone who doesn’t know you. Even if you DO need Jesus, how about getting to know me at least as well as a telemarketer? You may even hear this guy say Jesus loves you and Christians love you….because they are telling you you need Jesus.

Gee thanks. I feel warm all over.

Of course, we have the Bible. The Bible is read, and quoted, with authority. It’s the bottom line, the final word on everything. It is the proof that this guy is right and everyone else is wrong. The fact that he isn’t explaining why the magic book is right, and your experiences and thoughts are wrong doesn’t seem to be on the agenda. You need to do more than accept Jesus. You need to accept the way this guy reads the Bible.

A preacher earlier in the week said he believed the Bible was true because it was controversial. Other people say it is just obviously from God. (Explain that please.) Or it’s full of proof by way of prophecies. Or the change in lives proves it. Or the sheer number of Bible-toting Christians proves it.

Is anyone else bored? This preacher was no better or worse than thousands of others: the appeal to authority was everywhere, and you are simply SUPPOSED TO ACCEPT IT. If you don’t, that’s proof you are on your way to hell. If you are going to heaven, you buy this without serious questions.

The content of the message? I have to admit, listening to it as an unbeliever might, it was so irrelevant I can’t imagine why anyone would listen. It would make sense to Christians, but to anyone else? Would anyone else ever start to find it interesting or worth believing? It was just a way to spend time yacking. Logic, reality, honesty. Not on the radar screen. We’re talking about filler for the weakened mind, and nothing for the serious thinker or seeker.

The real point is always the same: You need to accept Jesus. You need to accept Jesus. Whatever the heck that means. Best I can tell, you tell the preacher that you accept Jesus, and they say you accept Jesus, and from then on you get to tell people that you accepted Jesus. Say some religious things, do some religious things and join the Jesus team. Be one of the bunch that is sitting there nodding.

Perhaps nothing stands out as much as the total submersion of every word and action in the sticky-sweet, sappy overtones of being RIGHT and “You better listen to the guy who is right.” Christians live in this so much they can’t see it. They make absurd, ridiculous, bizarre, almost insane, fairy-tale statements as if they are run of the mill.

“Now when Jesus spoke to the Apostle John…”

What!! WHAT!!!!

Well, we’re not even stopping. That’s baby stuff. Have a miracle. Or some answered prayer. Or an incredible story. Or a Biblical example. Or a “can’t fail principle.” Or a talking snake, fallen angel or vision of heaven. These people have the book, they read it right, and they have the answers. They know what you need, and what everyone around the world needs. They will do the talking, and if you are smart, you’ll accept Jesus.

Is this the way it sounds most of the time? Are we really so insulated from real communication that we don’t realize how we come off?

Things I’ve Learned about Psalm 23

Things I’ve Learned about Psalm 23

A psalm of David.

The Lord is my shepherd;
I lack nothing.
He makes me lie down in green pastures;
He leads me to water in places of repose;
He renews my life;
He guides me in right paths
as befits His name.
Though I walk through a valley of deepest darkness,
I fear no harm, for You are with me;
Your rod and Your staff—they comfort me.
You spread a table for me in full view of my enemies;
You anoint my head with oil;
my drink is abundant.
Only goodness and steadfast love shall pursue me
all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord
for many long years. (NJPS)

• • •

For the last 14 1/2 years in my work as a hospice chaplain, rarely has a day gone by when I have not quoted, thought about, or prayed Psalm 23. In my work, and also in my life now, I find it to be like the “Swiss Army Knife” of scriptures. And even though I’ve always loved this psalm, and gone to it throughout my adult life and ministry, I have some regret that there were long stretches of time before I began to serve in hospice when it was a text that I kind of ignored.

Familiar scriptures can be like that, you know? Familiarity doesn’t exactly breed contempt, but it can breed a kind of taking for granted. Sure — Psalm 23 — the Lord is my shepherd — who doesn’t know that? It gets filed away and we pull it out when we think we might need it.

Let me tell you another secret: a lot of pastors, preachers, and teachers, frankly, think it is important to move on from simple and basic texts like this. In their view, they have become worn from use and have lost a bit of their punch. We are so enamored with finding something new that will get people’s attention, something that is fresh and novel, that we have a tendency to look down on texts like Psalm 23. What can we find new in an old text like this?

Friends, I’m here to tell you: I’m over all that. Maybe I’m just old and tired, but the longer I’m on this journey, the more I see how important it is to stay in vital touch with the basic truths of scripture, the fundamentals of our faith, the texts and traditions that keep us grounded and give us a clear path on which to walk.

Many people I meet, young and old, who are either in the final season of life, or who are caring for loved ones in that season — I find that they want “Amazing Grace” and “How Great Thou Art” sung to them. They want me to quote Psalm 23. They want to hear words like: “Your sins are forgiven,” and “I will never leave you or forsake you.” They want to receive reassurance that “nothing in all creation can ever separate [them] from God’s love in Christ.” They want me to pray the Lord’s Prayer with them. They want me to hand them bread and wine and say: “Christ’s body, given for you; Christ’s blood, shed for you.” They couldn’t care less about an innovative worship service — they want to be with their family, they want friends to visit, they want to relive the story of their life, they want a pastor to sit with them and pray for them. They want assurance about “the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting.” They want to hear “Grace to you, and peace.”

So, almost every day for me, I find myself returning to texts like Psalm 23.

There’s another reason the familiarity of a text like this can be a problem: We’ve heard it for so long that we think we’ve mastered it. However, I am finding all the time that there’s more to a text like this than meets the eye. I thought I would share a few of those things that I have learned as I have made this psalm a part of my daily life over the past 15 years or so. Perhaps this well-known and well-loved scripture can come to us today in new and fresh ways as well.

The first thing I’ve learned about Psalm 23 is that it is a psalm about life, not about death.

I don’t think it’s wrong to say that most of us associate Psalm 23 pretty strongly with funerals and with life-threatening situations. I’ve already told you that my work has led me to go to this psalm on an almost daily basis. I use it at every funeral I officiate as well.

There are a couple of reasons for this. First, it is a wonderful psalm for the troubled times of life. It emphasizes God’s comprehensive care for us, and mentions specifically some of the most disturbing troubles we face. One of its most famous lines is, “Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for thou art with me, thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.” Another of its lines says, “I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever,” which makes most of us think of heaven.

Actually, the first line is probably better translated, “Even though I walk through a valley of deepest darkness.” The picture is of a shepherd leading his flock to pasture and having to take them through shadowy, rugged ravines that were frightening because they were dark, the footing was difficult, and there were natural hiding places for predators.

As for the last verse, when it says, “I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever,” it is a reference to the Jewish Temple in Jerusalem, and should be understood as, “I will find a home in God’s temple for years and years to come.”

Nowhere in this psalm is the psalmist talking about death. He is talking about various seasons and circumstances of his life. He talks about his need for nourishment and refreshment. His need to be set right when he falls down. His need for guidance along good paths. His need for comfort and reassurance in the dark and scary times of life. His need for God’s blessing and help when he is surrounded by his enemies. And so on. No matter what the circumstances, no matter what season of life he finds himself in, he knows that his Shepherd is with him, providing for him, helping him, directing him, strengthening him. God’s goodness and steadfast love pursue him each and every day of his life.

I think it is entirely appropriate to use this psalm at the time of death and at funerals, but I want to encourage you primarily to see it as a psalm about life, about every day of life, about every situation in life, about every need in life. You and I are not alone, and we do not lack resources as we go through different seasons and circumstances in our lives. No matter what we encounter, we can benefit from the life-giving, life-affirming, life-sustaining gift of this psalm!

A second thing I’ve learned about Psalm 23 is that I have tended to view this psalm as serene and comforting, but I missed the rugged nature of its imagery.

Maybe it’s the green pastures and still waters, but I think most people hear Psalm 23 and they get a sense of peace, comfort, quiet, serenity. It’s pastoral. It’s soothing. In some cases, we might even think of it as soft and sentimental.

Let me ask you a question: Have you ever met a shepherd? A rancher? A cowboy? A farmer? Someone who works with animals, tends them, builds fences for them, clears land for them, fights away predators, leads them up mountains and down through valleys to safe pasture? Even if you haven’t, can you imagine what such a person is like? I doubt the words “soft and sentimental” come immediately to mind.

From my earliest days as a pastor, I have had assignments in rural congregations full of people like this. And I’ll tell you what: I dreaded shaking hands after Sunday morning worship! One guy I used to know regularly teased me about my soft “pastor’s hands,” as his huge, calloused paws swallowed mine when he left church.

If Psalm 23 gives us peace, it’s only because its main character is a strong, rugged, wind and sun-weathered, hard-working Shepherd who doesn’t take vacations and rarely even takes a break because he has animals to care for, a flock that depends on him for every need. When I officiate a funeral now for one of these kinds of folks, I speak on Psalm 23 and express appreciation for people who work hard and lay down their lives to provide for their families, their property, and their flocks and herds. They’ve followed the example of the Shepherd.

So, as you think of Psalm 23, let it lead you to appreciate the strength and rugged love that keeps us fed, keeps us going, keeps us safe, and keeps us in the way of Christ.

A third thing I’ve learned about Psalm 23 is that I have often missed the Jewish and royal nature of this psalm.

The final product of what we call the Old Testament took place during and after the Babylonian Exile, when God’s people watched their own homeland devastated and then were taken forcibly to another land to live in captivity. I doubt that few of us can really understand the impact of that on the Jewish people for generations. That’s when synagogues were born, and that’s when they began collecting and working on putting together their sacred scriptures.

When this psalm was read during the Exile, I would imagine that its second part became even more important to those captives. Have you ever noticed how the imagery changes in verse 5?The psalm goes from being about a Shepherd guiding his flock to being about a Host providing a banquet. This matches the setting of captivity that the people were in. No longer were the people of Israel being led and provided for in their own land, in their own homes. Now they were living in the presence of their enemies.

But even there, Psalm 23 says, in the presence of my enemies, God spreads a table for me, God honors me as his guest by anointing my head with oil, God sees to it that my cup is kept filled to overflowing. Even in exile, even in captivity, the Jewish people who read these words were reassured of God’s presence and care.

The psalm also has unappreciated royal imagery. The term “shepherd” was what Israel called their king. When Psalm 23 says, “The Lord is my shepherd,” it is confessing that Yahweh, the God of Israel, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the God who led them out of Egypt, the God who raised up David and Solomon and the prophets, this God is my King. The nation of Judah had seen the downfall of their human kings in the Exile. But they still had a King.

Also, when it says “I will dwell in the house of the Lord for many days” at the end of the psalm, it’s talking about the Temple in Jerusalem, which had been destroyed and leveled in the Babylonian invasion. The word “temple” means “palace” in Hebrew — it was where the King lived and ruled. The final line of Psalm 23 was a confident statement of hope that God’s palace would be restored, that God would once again rule as King in Jerusalem, and that God’s people would be with him there.

Knowing these things gives me a background and life context for Psalm 23. It helps me understand how real people of faith in real circumstances gained comfort and strength from this psalm. It also helps me appreciate even more what Jesus meant when he came along in John 10 and said, “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.” When Jesus said those words, he was not just using a familiar metaphor, he was claiming to be the promised King of Israel, who would shepherd his people out of exile and restore their life through his own death and resurrection.

In that same passage, he says, “I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd.” That looks forward to the inclusion of the Gentiles, people like you and me. The Lord is our Shepherd-King as well, and he has brought us out of the captivity of our sins.

Let me share one final thing I’ve learned about Psalm 23 — I’ve learned to appreciate the shift from 3rd person to 2nd person in this psalm.

The psalm begins in the 3rd person: The Lord is my shepherd. He makes me lie down. He leads me. He restores my life. And so on.

But there is a point in the psalm where this changes. And I think it’s significant. Right where the psalmist begins to talk about going through the valley of deepest darkness, it’s as though it’s no longer sufficient for him to talk about the Lord in the 3rd person. Instead he begins to address the Lord in the 2nd person. “Though I walk through a valley of deepest darkness, I fear no harm, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff—they comfort me.” From that point on, the person who had been talking about his Shepherd, now talks to his Shepherd. At that moment, a statement of faith is transformed into a prayer of trust.

And that I think, my friends, is the greatest lesson of all that I have learned from Psalm 23.

Don’t just acknowledge the Shepherd who cares for your life.

Talk to him, look to him, trust him.

The IM Saturday Monks Brunch: June 15, 2019

Protesters shelter under umbrellas during a downpour as they occupy roads near the government headquarters in Hong Kong on June 12, 2019. Tens of thousands of protesters paralyzed parts of Hong Kong, blocking major roads in a defiant show of strength against government plans to allow extraditions to China. (ANTHONY WALLACE/AFP/Getty Images)

The IM Saturday Monks Brunch: June 15, 2019

Sports can be life-giving…

My eyes teared up the other evening as I was driving home and listening to All Things Considered on NPR. They told the story of 11-year-old Laila Anderson, a little girl from St. Louis with a life-threatening auto-immune disease. Little Laila also happens to be one of the most devoted St. Louis Blues hockey fans around.

Here’s a bit from the transcript of the show:

KELLY: Her beloved Blues were vying for the Stanley Cup versus the Boston Bruins in Beantown last night. The day before the game, her mother, Heather, posed a question to Laila captured on video.

(SOUNDBITE OF ARCHIVED RECORDING) —

HEATHER ANDERSON: If you could watch the game anywhere in the world tomorrow – anywhere in the world – where would you watch your boys play Game 7?

H ANDERSON: Boston.

KELLY: Which seemed highly improbable because Laila Anderson has not been able to travel.

(SOUNDBITE OF ARCHIVED RECORDING) —

H ANDERSON: What if I told you the Blues called and they want you at the game?

LAILA ANDERSON: What? How?

H ANDERSON: Doctor said it’s OK.

L ANDERSON: No, he didn’t. Mommy, no he didn’t. Oh, my God.

CORNISH: So Laila found herself at the Garden, watching as…

(SOUNDBITE OF ARCHIVED RECORDING) —

MIKE EMRICK: For the first time in their history, the St. Louis Blues are the Stanley Cup champions.

So Laila was there to see the Blues win it all. A few minutes later, she came down on the ice with her favorite player, Colton Parayko and held the Stanley Cup with him.

“This is just the ending of the best story that will ever be written in history,” Laila said.

As Dean Reynolds at CBS News commented, “Actually, we all hope it’s the beginning.”

• • •

The SBC practices lamentation and seeks solutions…

J. D. Greear, president of the Southern Baptist Convention, becomes emotional while talking about sexual abuse within the SBC on the second day of the SBC’s annual meeting on Wednesday, June 12, 2019, in Birmingham.

Back in February, The Houston Chronicle published a devastating exposé called Abuse of Faith — about the sexual abuse scandal in the Southern Baptist Convention. They found that 380 pastors, employees and volunteers at Southern Baptist churches in 20 states had been accused of sexual misconduct during the past two decades, leaving behind 700 victims.

This past week, the SBC held their annual meeting in Birmingham, AL, and this scandal was the main topic of the gathering.

In this article, that same newspaper reports on some of the sweeping changes recommended this week, including more vigorous screening process for pastors, the consideration of establishing a database of offenders, and a resolution condemning child sexual abuse and calling for civil authorities to review applicable laws, including those imposing statutes of limitation.

The proposals came one day after delegates to the SBC’s annual meeting in Birmingham empowered a committee to make “inquiries” into churches’ handling of sexual abuse. The SBC also advanced an amendment to its governing documents that explicitly states that any churches that mishandle abuses can be ousted from the convention, though the reform will need to pass a second time next year before going into effect.

SBC President J.D. Greear said that protecting little ones is part of the core biblical mission of all its churches.

“Why would survivors trust us to care for their souls if they’re not sure they can trust us to care for their wounds?” Greear asked.

NOTE: For another look at the subject of abuse, including spiritual abuse, our friend Paul Wilkinson has recommended Wade Mullen’s blog. The purpose of the blog, per Mullen, is as follows. “My writing and research seeks to bring understanding to the tactics abusive individuals and organizations use to control people and information.”

• • •

8 Questions of the Week…

Media Urged Not To Release Names Of Any More Presidential Candidates In Effort To Prevent Copycats (The Onion)

• • •

Theological observations from the Church Curmudgeon…

• • •

Finally, to all the dads out there — Happy Father’s Day

Apocalyptic = Resistance Literature

Apocalyptic Skies (2016)

I’ve just started reading Portier-Young, so this is very introductory.

Anathea E. Portier-Young has written a well-received book on apocalyptic literature in the time of Second Temple Judaism called Apocalypse against Empire: Theologies of Resistance in Early Judaism.

Her main thesis is to reinforce and emphasize a long understood aspect of the genre. Apocalyptic had a social purpose, originating as resistance literature in a time of imperial power, hegemony, and domination.

As John Collins says in his foreword:

Apocalyptic literature has often been stereotyped as otherworldly. Portier-Young makes a persuasive case that it is deeply immersed in political reality and cannot be properly understood without seeing it against the foil of Hellenistic imperial rule.

The author herself puts it this way:

The reign of Antiochus marked a turning point in the history of Judaism for another reason that, though rarely remarked upon, is no less momentous. For during this period emerged a new literary genre, the historical apocalypse, and with it an apocalyptic worldview and consciousness that would become enormously influential in the history of Judaism and Christianity alike. Why this genre at this moment? What is the relationship between apocalypse and empire?

I argue that the first Jewish apocalypses emerged as a literature of resistance to empire. Empire claimed the power to order the world. It exercised this power through force, but also through propaganda and ideology. Empire manipulated and co-opted hegemonic social institutions to express and reinforce its values and cosmology. Resisting imperial domination required challenging not only the physical means of coercion, but also empire’s claims about knowledge and the world. The first apocalypses did precisely this.

I’m looking forward to understanding more about this, but in light of our conversations this week, Portier-Young reinforces my suspicion that apocalyptic literature at least originated not as futuristic prophecy about “the end of the world,” but as a social-theological response to this-world realities, giving guidance about how to resist in both thought and action the powers that held sway over people of faith.

God’s Good Earth: The Case for an Unfallen Creation, by Jon Garvey: Chapter 2 – Scripture on the Fall

God’s Good Earth: The Case for an Unfallen Creation, by Jon Garvey
Chapter 2 – Scripture on the Fall

We will continue our review of God’s Good Earth: The Case for an Unfallen Creation, by Jon Garvey.  Today is Chapter 2 – Scripture on the Fall.  In Chapter 2 – Scripture on the Fall, Jon discusses those passages of scripture typically used to justify the idea of a fallen creation.  He begins with Genesis 2:15-17:

The Lord God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to work it and take care of it.  And the Lord God commanded the man, “You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat from it you will certainly die.”

Jon notes, after John Walton and others, that “the tree of the knowledge of good and evil” is a merism indicating “discerning and discriminating wisdom”, which is consistent with Eve’s observation that the fruit was “desirable for gaining wisdom”.  Since elsewhere in scripture wisdom is both desirable and offered as a gift of God (Proverbs 1-9), Jon supposes that God always intended for Adam to gain wisdom by a learning process and communion with him.

The Fall of Adam- the Cistine Chapel

 Jon specifically notes that the warning was given to Adam alone, and the penalty for disobedience – death was also given to Adam alone.  Even though Eve is the one deceived into eating, it is Adam whose punishment is linked to it and who alone is named as the one excluded from the garden, and from eternal life, and who is later said to be the one through whom sin and death entered the world.  So Adam obviously has some archetypal role for humankind, but no such representative role is indicated by scripture towards any other part of creation. 

The fact that “he must not be allowed to reach out his hand and take also from the tree of life and eat, and live forever” implies that humankind has no innate immortality, but only that granted by God.  When I first heard this through John Walton and The Lost World of Genesis One, it came as a shock to me, but he is clearly correct; eternal life is a gift of God gained through communion with Him, not something Adam and Eve had naturally before their disobedience.  Jon says:

This leads us to consider the case of the animals, which according to the “traditional view”, did not die before the fall.  If this were the case, then either Adam would have been alone in needing to eat from the tree of life to avoid death (a strange situation for the one made in God’s image and likeness), or all the animals in the world also must have had access to the tree of life.  This makes no sense whatsoever in material terms, if we are to imagine snow leopards, kiwis, jellyfish, and even earthworms migrating to Mesopotamia, on a regular basis, for their dose of life.  Remember, that there was just one tree of life, in one garden small enough to be cultivated by a single human couple, in one small corner of the Near East.  And for the animals to have incurred death after the fall, Adam’s exile would have had to apply to them too – something on which the text is as silent as it is about their implication in Adam’s sin.

There are no grounds whatsoever, then in Genesis 2-3, for suggesting that any other creature other than Adam and Eve ever had exemption from natural death, nor was threatened with death together with Adam, nor incurred the penalty along with him. Mortality was their natural state, as we shall see below. The New Testament goes along with this in speaking only of the resurrection of human beings to new life in the age to come. We therefore simply have no warrant from the Bible for suggesting that animal death came through the sin that condemned Adam to death.

Some try to say the curse on the snake – crawl on your belly, eat dust, lose your legs (which the passage never says the snake had legs) – is a “template” for widespread change in the entire animal kingdom.  Jon says that is “sheer fantasy”, at the least, it is a bad case of eisegesis.

Fossil Thorn from the Devonian, 359-419 million years ago

Next up for more eisegesis is Genesis 3:17-19:

17. To Adam he said, “Because you listened to your wife and ate fruit from the tree about which I commanded you, ‘You must not eat from it,’

“Cursed is the ground because of you; through painful toil you will eat food from it all the days of your life.  18. It will produce thorns and thistles for you, and you will eat the plants of the field.  19. By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food until you return to the ground, since from it you were taken; for dust you are and to dust you will return.”

But all it actually says is that, for Adam, the productiveness of the ground will be cursed, and that by the greater vigor of the living order in the form of thorns, not that prior to the curse thorns didn’t exist.  Also, the curse on the ground is said to be lifted, in Genesis 8:20-22, as part of the covenant with Noah:

20. Then Noah built an altar to the Lord and, taking some of all the clean animals and clean birds, he sacrificed burnt offerings on it. 21. The Lord smelled the pleasing aroma and said in his heart: “Never again will I curse the ground because of humans, even though every inclination of the human heart is evil from childhood. And never again will I destroy all living creatures, as I have done.

22. “As long as the earth endures, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night will never cease.”

The third passage used to say natural evil is the result of the fall is the creation ordinance of Genesis 1:29-30 in which humanity and animals are allocated vegetable food.

29. Then God said, “I give you every seed-bearing plant on the face of the whole earth and every tree that has fruit with seed in it. They will be yours for food. 30. And to all the beasts of the earth and all the birds in the sky and all the creatures that move along the ground—everything that has the breath of life in it—I give every green plant for food.” And it was so.

Jon points out that even if we took this as precluding non-vegetarian animals at the creation, it would have nothing to say about the absence of animal death.  Herbivores die from many causes other than being eaten by predators.  Also, even if taken literally, the passage simply prescribes green vegetables for all flesh, it does not proscribe meat at all – once again, eisegesis much? 

What about the post-flood permission to eat “everything that lives and moves”.  Jon says:

Whatever the implications of the post-flood permission in Genesis 9, and indeed of the verse about vegetation in Genesis 1, we should note that it adds nothing to the case for an animal kingdom taking to bloody pursuits, because the later concession applies only to humankind, not animals.  And even that happens not at the time of the fall but ten generations later.  No description of any transition in the diet of the creatures, whether actual, permissive, or evil, is given in the text at all. 

Finally, what about the argument that the repeated use of the phrase, “God saw that it was good” cannot be truthfully applied to things as they are now.  Therefore, that means that before the fall things were much better, if not perfect, then they are now, and this necessarily means there was no death, no decay, and no suffering.  Jon makes two points to this argument.

The first is that what God has created as good in his eyes may have no bearing whatsoever on what is good in our eyes. 

The second is that the Hebrew word translated as “good” (tob) has a wide semantic range that may or may not carry moral connotations.  As John Walton has pointed out in his Genesis books, “good” can mean “usefulness of function”, so that “God saw that it was good” can mean “God saw that all was functioning as he intended it should”.  If “good” has this functional sense, rather than ethical significance, then there is nothing the makes it necessary for creation to have been profoundly reworked to account for appearances today.  We cannot look around, fail to see perfection, and conclude that “goodness” has gone out of it.  As Jon says, “it is fairly self-evident that any such conclusion must be fatally subjective.”

In the comments on the last post on, Is there Purpose in Biology, frequent commentator, Burro (Mule), quoted a passage from C.S. Lewis’ Out of the Silent Planet, a book about a man’s journey to a planet where the inhabitants never experienced a “fall”:

‘All the same,’ said Ransom, unconsciously nettled on behalf of his own
world, ‘Maleldil has let in the hnakra.’

‘Oh, but that is so different. I long to kill this hnakra as he also longs to kill me. I hope that my ship will be the first and I first in my ship with my
straight spear when the black jaws snap. And if he kills me, my people will mourn and my brothers will desire still more to kill him. But they will not wish that there were no hneraki; nor do I. How can I make you understand, when you do not understand the poets? The hnakra is our enemy, but he is
also our beloved. We feel in our hearts his joy as he looks down from the mountain of water in the north where he was born; we leap with him when he jumps the falls; and when winter comes, and the lake smokes higher than our heads, it is with his eyes that we see it and know that his roaming time is come. We hang images of him in our houses, and the sign of all the hrossa is a hnakra. In him the spirit of the valley lives; and our young play
at being hneraki as soon as they can splash in the shallows.’

Interestingly, Jon refers to Lewis’ book and says:

“C.S. Lewis was quite justified biblically in having his fictional hrossa hunt and kill the fierce hnakra in the unfallen world of Malacandra…”  “No, only God can decide what constitutes the goodness of his world.  And since he has not told us in Scripture that he has altered his ideas and changed things (either deliberately or by force of changed circumstances), then once again we simply have no justification for inventing a new universe out of thin air, or out of over-interpreted Bible verses, which amounts to the same thing.”