Is There Purpose in Biology?  The Cost of Existence and the God of Love. By Denis Alexander, Chapter 5- The Christian Matrix Within Which Biology Flourishes

Is There Purpose in Biology?: The Cost of Existence and the God of Love. By Denis Alexander,

Chapter 5- The Christian Matrix Within Which Biology Flourishes

We are reviewing the book: Is There Purpose in Biology?  The Cost of Existence and the God of Love. By Denis Alexander.  Chapter 5- The Christian Matrix Within Which Biology Flourishes.

Alexander returns to the point he made in the beginning discussions in this book. That is that Purpose (with a capital P) is consistent with the evolutionary story, even though it cannot be directly derived from it; it must be imposed upon it by human reflection and interpretation.  He notes that Darwin’s own worldview was Christianity as he puzzled over the vast amount of observation and data that came from his famous voyages on the Beagle (even if Darwin later came to a more agnostic view).  He goes even further and says that evolution has a particular affinity with Christianity via its nurturing within natural theology.  He cites as evidence for that assertion that many of Darwin’s Christian contemporaries were quick to incorporate evolution into the Christian faith.  He quotes Scottish evangelist Henry Drummond (1851-97) who maintained that natural selection was “a real and beautiful acquisition to natural theology” and that the Origin was “perhaps the most important contribution to the literature of apologetics”.  Aubrey Moore, another Victorian cleric, maintained that Darwin’s theory had done the church a great service in helping to get rid of the more extreme forms of natural theology and claimed that there was a special affinity based on the intimate involvement of God in his creation as revealed in Christian theology.  Moore said:

“There are not, and cannot be, any Divine interpositions in nature, for God cannot interfere with Himself.  His creative activity is present everywhere.  There is no division of labor between God and nature, or God and law… For the Christian theologian, the facts of nature are the acts of God.”

A Fundamentalist cartoon portraying Modernism as the descent from Christianity to atheism, first published in 1922 and then used in Seven Questions in Dispute by William Jennings Bryan.

The American historian George Marsden reports, “… with the exception of Louis Agassiz, virtually every American Protestant zoologist and botanist accepted some form of evolution by the early 1870s” (Marsden, 1984, Understanding Fundamentalist Views of Science. In Science and Creationism, ed. A. Montagu, Oxford: Oxford University Press, p. 101).

That trend held fast among scientists in Protestant congregations until the rise of the Fundamentalist–Modernist controversy in the 1920s.

Alexander’s next point is that the Bible contains no concept of “nature” as referring to the natural world apart from God’s creation.  Robert Boyle, one of the founders of modern chemistry, wrote a book entitled, “Free Inquiry into the Vulgarly Received Notion of Nature” (1685) where he attacked the notion that nature had any autonomous existence, or that it acted as a mediator between God and his works.  God has not appointed a “vicegerent called nature” wrote Boyle, and if there were such a “Lieutenant she must be said to act too blindly and impotently to discharge well the part she is said to be trusted with.”  Alexander says that in the hands of Boyle, and indeed of the biblical text, the idea of nature as a quasi-independent entity has been demythologized, as Aubrey Moore said above, “…the facts of nature are the acts of God.”

Alexander says this is why the arguments for God based on biological “designs” so loved by the natural theologians of previous centuries, and those of today who portray God as an engineer who occasionally designs bits of living things, represented such hostages to fortune – once the idea of adaptation by natural selection came along, what need was there for God as an explanation?  He again quotes Aubrey Moore:

The one absolutely impossible conception of God, in the present day, is that which represents him as an occasional visitor.  Science has pushed the deist’s God further and further away, and at the moment when it seemed as if He would be thrust out all together, Darwinism appeared, and, under the guise of a foe, did the work of a friend… Either God is everywhere present in nature, or He is nowhere. (Moore, A. 1891, The Christian Doctrine of God, p.73.)

So how does God act in the world, in Alexander’s view?  Denis has tried to avoid the scenario where God ends up like the divine tinkerer with the world, rather than the author and sustainer of the whole created order.  Once again he quotes Aubrey Moore, who hits the nail on the head:

The scientific evidence in favour of evolution as a theory is infinitely more Christian than the theory of “special creation”.  For it implies the immanence of God in nature, and the omnipresence of His creative power.  Those who oppose the doctrine of evolution in defense of a “continued intervention” of God, seem to have failed to notice that a theory of occasional intervention implies as its correlative a theory of ordinary absence. (Moore, A. 1891, The Christian Doctrine of God, p.184.)

Instead, Denis likes to highlight the language of top-down causation used by the Bible when it refers to the activity of God in creation, which is the theological language of God speaking.  There is the language of Genesis 1 where God speaks on every one of the six days to bring order and beauty into the world that is formless and void.  Once you start looking for it the idea of God speaking to create is all over the place in the Bible, especially in the Psalms.  Psalm 33:6, “By the word of the Lord the heavens were made, their starry host by the breath of his mouth.”  Psalm 29:3, “The voice of the Lord is over the waters; the God of glory thunders, the Lord thunders over the mighty waters.”  But even in the Gospels, Luke 8:25, “In fear and amazement they asked one another, “Who is this? He commands even the winds and the water, and they obey him.”  And the epistles, Hebrews 11:3, “By faith we understand that the universe was formed at God’s command, so that what is seen was not made out of what was visible.”

Denis says: “Speaking expresses power, mind, intelligence, and will.  Through top-down causation, even we ourselves exert dramatic influence through our language over the behavior of those around us.  “Please pass the salt” we say to someone at the dinner table and our invisible words are causally effective in bringing about the desired result, with no breaking of scientific laws in the process.”

Denis is also clear that such reflections do not somehow “explain” divine action.  He points out the metaphor of “God as designer” is actually not found in the Bible.  Of course, all who believe in God as creator see the intelligibility of the created order in some overall sense as being “designed” to be that way by God, so that we can speak sensibly of the intentions and purposes of God being fulfilled in creation, but that is a very different concept from the idea that God is actively designing some particular aspect of a living organism, for example.

Denis’ understanding is that evolutionary biology is consistent with a God who has intentions and Purposes for the world, so he now lists what those Purposes might be.  The first Purpose of biology that we note as we start reading the Bible is the intrinsic value of the great riot of biological diversity that we see all over the planet. A careful reading of the biblical text reveals God as creator reveling in the living diversity of his own created order, not because it has some utilitarian purpose for human use, but simply because it was there.  “The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it” says Psalm 24:1. “God saw everything that he had made, and it was very good” Genesis 1:31.  Denis says:

Such a reflection becomes all the more relevant when we come to the second main Purpose of biology, which is equally clearly written all over the Bible, namely, that God’s intentions and Purposes for biology are that creatures like ourselves should emerge that have the capacity for free will, and so moral choice, creatures with complex minds that enable the use of language, the appreciation and investigations of the properties of the created order, reflection on the meaning of life, and engagement in loving relationships.

The third Purpose of God for biology that is expressed in different ways in many parts of the Bible is that the end of our own planet does not entail the end of life as we presently know it.  Denis admits this is the aspect of Purpose that those not within the Christian community find most difficult to accept.  Yet it is central to the preaching of Jesus in the New Testament.  Christ came to die for the whole cosmos; the coming of the Kingdom that starts right now as his reign begins in the hearts and lives of all those who follow him.  Yes, individuals enter the kingdom as they put their trust in Christ, but his redemption extends to the whole created order, that is “groaning” in its anticipation. Denis says this is no ethereal existence, but rather far more real than our present existence, with people with resurrected bodies, and biological organisms with resurrected bodies, in intimate continuity with the present created order, yet now transformed in to a totally new kind of created order.

Now this is all good, and I appreciate what Denis is trying to do. He wants to make a Theology that is consistent with reality.  Which is a hell of lot better than trying to twist reality to comport with one’s theology.  That’s never going to work.  If your interpretation of inerrant scripture doesn’t line up with what are clearly the facts of life (bios), then despite your protestations that scripture is inerrant, your interpretation is… has to be… errant.  As Aubrey Moore said earlier, “Either God is everywhere present in nature, or He is nowhere… and, “…the facts of nature are the acts of God.”

But there is a fly in Denis’ ointment; how can such a Christian narrative of Purpose possibly fit with the observation that the evolutionary process is marked by such a huge amount of pain, suffering, and death?  After all, there were 5 major extinctions in the biology of this planet; one in which at least 90% of all life was extinguished. Was that “very good”?  Were those facts of nature indeed also the acts of God?

Wednesday with Michael Spencer: Why People Get Upset that I’ve Changed (and Am Changing)

Wednesday with Michael Spencer
From 2008

I can now officially say I’ve written my most controversial sentence. It’s various versions of “I am rethinking what I believe about God.”

I know. I know. Somehow this has been translated into “I’m no longer a Christian,” “I’m abandoning Christianity,” and “I’m ordering anchovies on that pizza.”

Why has this idea been so upsetting to some of my readers? I’ve tried a few explanatory thoughts out. If you are interested, you can test drive them as well. (If you have to translate this post into my conversion to Buddhism, I’d recommend moving to a blog with more pictures.)

1) Ministers are supposed to have all the answers.

If you are Southern Baptist minister, you had an ordination council. I had mine 8 years after I became a Christian, seven years after I declared my intention to be a pastor, two years after college graduation and one year into seminary.

I was asked a few things about a few things, but to tell you the truth, there wasn’t enough theological content in my ordination questioning to fill up a good 4 X 6 card. And that’s fairly typical.

I have no idea where anyone in Southern Baptist life anyone gets the idea that it would be a bad idea to rethink what you knew when you were 15 or 23. Nothing about being called into ministry stops you from being ignorant. If you don’t know that, you aren’t listening very closely.

Of course, in my case, it was life, not theology, that challenged me to start over and reacquaint myself with the God and Father of my Lord Jesus Christ. And I can’t apologize for Life. It seems to have a syllabus that I don’t have access to. If you are one of those people who can say “Life has nothing left to teach me,” then God help you. I don’t want to sit next to you during a thunderstorm.

Read Job for more details.

A minister is set aside to proclaim the Gospel, but no one promises to not have a personal spiritual journey along the way.

2) They are misunderstanding what I mean. (Accidentally or on purpose.)

And that’s pretty likely in some cases, I’m sure.

I never meant that I was abandoning the Christian faith and only the most hostile selective reading could come up with that.

I’m not abandoning the confessional framework that I affirmed as a Christian and an ordained minister. I’m not renouncing the faith. I’ve clearly said so in every post.

Michael Bauman taught me years ago that theology is the wind in the sails, but the creeds are the anchors. I may have pulled up anchor and let down the sails for a journey, but I never abandoned the anchors. I need them and always will.

Imagine that you are a parent. You’ve been confident you know how to raise your child. You do everything “they” told you to do. You followed the book, you followed the seminars, you followed the advice of the experts.

Then, one day, your child comes home and says “I’m a gay atheist who plans to spend his life as an urban terrorist.”

Is it possible that you might say, “I’m going to rethink everything I believe about parenting?” Of course.

If you said that, would you be saying “I am renouncing my role as a parent and will never claim that child is mine”? No, of course not.

Second example. You are a baseball coach. You have a system. You believe in your basics, your methods and your experience. You are certain that if your team follows your system, they will win.

Your team does everything you ask. To a “T.” Week after week; game after game.

You lose every game.

Is it possible you might say “I am going to rethink everything I believe about baseball”? Of course.

Would you be resigning as coach? Renouncing baseball? No.

3) “When you say that, you make the rest of us feel wrong and condemned.”

If that has been the case, I sincerely apologize. I probably was thoughtless on this score at times, and I regret it.

There are several ways to approach the process of rethinking a faith journey.

One IS to blame everyone for misleading you.

I do believe I was misled early on in my life about what God is like, but I was misled by good people who took what they were saying very seriously as truth. They weren’t messing with my head or playing games. They were following what they’d heard preached and taught. They were trying to get it all right.

But I was the one who came back again and again to beliefs that were increasingly distant from Jesus as I would meet him in the Gospels. When I defended my theology, my agenda and my version of religion using those beliefs, it was entirely MY fault.

I hold myself responsible for what I’ve persisted in believing and what I’ve taught others. Like Luther, I think the only way to have integrity is to say, from time to time, that people can be (will be) wrong and our consciences have to be captive to the Word of God. I’m #1 on the list of people who can be wrong. Like Luther, it may not be comfortable to go back to the Word and start over, but “reformed, always reforming,” should mean exactly that.

The reason we have hundreds of false teachers misrepresenting Jesus with trash from the church’s theological trash can is we didn’t realize you have to return to the sources regularly or you lose credibility.

What we all believe about God personally exists on several levels at once. Sometimes those levels co-exist peacefully, even in the face of information and experiences that indicate something is very wrong somewhere. But at other times, we realize we can no longer hold all those levels together and still really believe.

At that point, our faith has to “go into the shop,” so to speak, for a re-calibration. Some things have to change for that faith to be healthy and continue. The faith we had as children or teenagers or in a particular stage of life has to grow to fit new realities. I’ve taught that for years as healthy faith development. Apparently living it is a bit more controversial.

The absolute wrong response is to take that experience of growth as an excuse to blame others, even if there is some degree of blame to be assessed. This is MY faith journey. It’s who I am. The only thing that needs to change is how I think of and experience God. It’s not a blame game, but a growth process.

4) People aren’t comfortable with change and new beliefs in those who are supposed to be mature, dependable Christians. It frightens people to think those who are supposed to really know Christ are asking serious and fundamental questions.

I’ll refer back to the “Jonah 4″ post and the absolutely unavoidable certainty that the Bible presents all kinds of people at all sorts of places in life doing fundamental reassessments of God, with good fruit resulting.

But let me use some non-Biblical illustrations.

What if white ministers in the south had’t questioned the God they’d been told approved of slavery and segregation?

Would anyone suggest to Jeremiah Wright that his ideas about a Black Liberation God could stand some re-examination?

Would anyone suggest that health and wealth preachers like Joel Osteen could benefit from comparing their God to the God of Jesus, especially as he’s seen and worshiped among the poor?

Does anyone thing that the nationalistic, flag-waving God of many culture war Christians could stand to be compared to the God of Jesus?

What ideas about God do I have that allow me to spend more on coffee than I do on relieving hunger or digging wells?

Most of us would be happy if someone would rethink God and come out where we think God actually is. Well…..how can you deny that, in the face of obvious personal pain and crisis, some persons who were formally quite sure they had God pinned down in the box have decided to look at God again, and to go to school with Jesus as their teacher?

5) If we rethink God, that could mean we’d also have to rethink…..other stuff!

The fact is that beliefs and rhetoric about God are usually propping up other things that we believe or really want to be true.

We want to believe that following the principles, steps and theology of our leaders will ensure great marriages, great kids, great lives. (If they are, then good for you.)

We want to believe that we are really experiencing the presence of God in church. Many of you are and many of you are not. No one is saying it’s the same for everyone, but those who are experiencing God in their church have no reason at all to be judgmental or angry that someone else isn’t having the same journey. But those who aren’t….aren’t bad people ignoring Jesus. They are hungry and thirsty, but right now they aren’t satisfied.

We want to believe there’s an answer to give to suffering people that makes perfect sense of the worst situation. (Of course, Dobson wrote “When God Doesn’t Make Sense,” so perhaps some people don’t have that answer yet.)

We want to believe that if people would just listen to our pastor or our denomination or read this book or listen to that DVD…..they’d see the truth right there in front of them.

We’d like to believe that everyone who believes what we believe is right, that what we’re doing is God’s will and that everyone who disagrees with us is wrong.

It’s all very comforting. And for some people and their journey, it all works.

But not for everyone. Some of those who know it’s not working go to bed and say “If I would just try a little harder and be more sincere and prayerful, it would work. I just don’t believe enough.” That’s sad, because it may not be their fault at all.

And if you find this blog by this strange guy who hangs out his personal spiritual laundry on a clothesline right there where everyone can see it, and he — a married Baptist minister who tells other people what the Bible says and what God is like- HE says that he’s going back to Jesus and he’s going to rethink what it means to believe in the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ…then what? Is everything suddenly unsure? Is it a bad thing that he reported his journey and let others talk about theirs?

Sometimes in the journey, it feels very scary and alone. But God still has hold of us. He’s just bringing us along a different road. His covenant love hasn’t failed. We just have a further to go to see the light on the trail.

Could it be that people sometimes realize that they need to get up in the night, go get on their face and say:

“God….I’m not sure I really know what you’ve been saying to me. I’ve been talking a lot, but I haven’t been a very good listener. I’ve been good at repeating what I was supposed to say, but not very good at taking Jesus honestly and completely. So would you please help me to start over; to read the Bible and open my eyes to Jesus in a fresh, life-changing way.”

Yes, it is scary. But would it be better to just turn over and say “I already know what I need to know?” And go back to sleep?

Well folks, I’m awake. And I’m going to read my Bible, look and listen. Maybe God will meet me and answer that prayer.

Rachel, we — the uncool — will miss you

Note from CM: It has been hard for me in the past couple of weeks to summon up the emotional energy to pay tribute to several folks who have died recently. Jean Vanier is one thing — I only know him through his books, and it feels more like I’m honoring a hero than a friend when I include posts about him.

But someone like Rachel Held Evans holds a different place in my heart. It’s not as though we were close friends or anything. We’ve talked a couple of times on the phone, especially when I was first writing on this blog, and I’ve corresponded with her occasionally. But I’ve followed her career and life with interest, and she was of the age and sensibilities of my own children. She gave me great hope of a better evangelicalism, a better church, a better spiritual/religious experience where doubts, questions, earthiness, and a more incarnational perspective on life and the Christian pilgrimage would lead the way.

Rachel allowed me to use this piece from her blog back in 2011, and I still love it. I still love her. We will all miss her. May she rest in peace and rise in glory with all the saints.

• • •

BLESSED ARE THE UN-COOL
By Rachel Held Evans

People sometimes assume that because I’m a progressive 30-year-old who enjoys Mumford and Sons and has no children, I must want a super-hip church — you know, the kind that’s called “Thrive” or “Be” and which boasts “an awesome worship experience,” a fair-trade coffee bar, its own iPhone app, and a pastor who looks like a Jonas Brother.

While none of these features are inherently wrong, (and can of course be used by good people to do good things), these days I find myself longing for a church with a cool factor of about 0.

That’s right.

I want a church that includes fussy kids, old liturgy, bad sound, weird congregants, and — brace yourself — painfully amateur “special music” now and then.

Why?

Well, for one thing, when the gospel story is accompanied by a fog machine and light show, I always get this creeped-out feeling like someone’s trying to sell me something. It’s as though we’re all compensating for the fact that Christianity’s not good enough to stand on its own so we’re adding snacks.

But more importantly, I want to be part of an un-cool church because I want to be part of a community that shares the reputation of Jesus, and like it or not, Jesus’ favorite people in the world were not cool.

They were mostly sinners, misfits, outcasts, weirdos, poor people, sick people, and crazy people.

Cool congregations can get so wrapped up in the “performance” of church that they forget to actually be the church, a phenomenon painfully illustrated by the story of the child with cerebral palsy who was escorted from the Easter service at Elevation Church for being a “distraction.”

Really?

It seems to me that this congregation was distracted long before this little boy showed up! In their self-proclaimed quest for “an explosive, phenomenal movement of God — something you have to see to believe,” they missed Jesus when he was right under their nose.

Was the paralytic man lowered from the rooftop in the middle of a sermon a distraction?

Was the Canaanite woman who harassed Jesus and his disciples about healing her daughter a distraction?

Were the blind men from Jericho who annoyed the crowd with their relentless cries a distraction?

Jesus didn’t think so. In fact, he seemed to think that they were the point.

Jesus taught us that when we throw a banquet or a party, our invitation list should include “the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind.” So why do our church marketing teams target the young, the hip, the healthy, and the resourced?

In Bossypants (a book you should really go out and buy this very instant), Tina Fey describes working for the YMCA in Chicago soon after graduating from college. This particular YMCA included, “a great mix of high-end yuppie fitness facility, a wonderful community resource for families, and an old-school residence for disenfranchised men,” so Fey shares a host of funny stories about working the front desk. One such story involves one of the residents forgetting to take his meds, bumping into a young mom on her way to a workout session, and saying something wildly inappropriate (and very funny — you should definitely go out and get this book). Fey writes, “The young mother was beside herself. That’s the kind of trouble you get when diverse groups of people actually cross paths with one another. That’s why many of the worst things in the world happen in and around Starbucks bathrooms.”

Church can be a lot like the Y…or a Starbucks bathroom.

We have one place for the un-cool people (our ministries) and another place for the cool people (our church services). When we actually bump into one another, things can get awkward, so we try to avoid it.

It’s easy to pick on Elevation Church in this case, but the truth is we’re all guilty of thinking we’re too cool for the least of these. Our elitism shows up when we forbid others from contributing art and music because we deem it unworthy of glorifying God, or when we scoot our family an extra foot or two down the pew when the guy with Aspergers sits down. Having helped start a church, I remember hoping that our hip guests wouldn’t be turned off by our less-than-hip guests. For a second I forgot that in church, of all places, those distinctions should disappear.

Some of us wear our brokenness on the inside, others on the outside.

But we’re all broken.

We’re all un-cool.

We’re all in need of a Savior.

So let’s cut the crap, pull the plug, and have us some distracting church services — the kind where Jesus would fit right in.

Richard Beck on Weakness and the Spirit

Self-Portrait – Disintegration. Photo by Cyril Rana at Flickr

Note from CM: Thanks to Richard Beck for his series on Paul and the Law at his blog, Experimental Theology. Here is a tremendously insightful post on Paul’s concept of “the flesh” that opens the door, in my view, for a much richer, deeper, and broader understanding of salvation.

• • •

Richard Beck on Weakness and the Spirit

In my post yesterday regarding Paul’s observations concerning Law and Sin a critical piece was missing: the flesh.

Specifically, according to Paul Sin seizes opportunity through the Law because of the weakness of the flesh. As Paul writes in Romans 8.6-7:

For to set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace. For the mind that is set on the flesh is hostile to God, for it does not submit to God’s law; indeed, it cannot.

In Chapter 7 Paul gives a vivid description about how the flesh is unable, under the power of Sin, to obey God’s Law:

Romans 7.14-15, 18
For we know that the law is spiritual, but I am of the flesh, sold under sin. For I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate. For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh. For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out.

Notice the key theme: Incapacity.  The flesh does not submit to God’s law; indeed it cannot. I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out.

The deep issue for Paul is human incapacity and weakness, our congenital inability to carry out God’s good, righteous and holy commands.

To be clear, Paul isn’t preaching “total depravity.” In the picture Paul is painting we both know and desire to do the right things. Deep down, we are good people. The problem is that we’re too weak to be the good people we desire to be. The issue isn’t wickedness, but weakness.

Overcoming this incapacity, then, is the main point of salvation. And according to Paul, our fleshly incapacity is overcome by the power of the Spirit: “For if you live according to the flesh you will die, but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live.” (Romans 8.13)

What’s interesting here is how this reading of Paul isn’t new or modern. This is the primary way the church fathers understood salvation. Specifically, salvation is less about the forgiveness of sin than the Spirit healing human weakness.

For example, Athanasius describes in On the Incarnation how Adam’s sin returned humanity to a mortal, animal existence. In the Garden, when we had communion with God, we had been protected from death and corruption: “Because of the Word present in them, even natural corruption did not come near them.” But after the Fall, we fell into a weakened mortal state: “When this happened, human beings died and corruption thenceforth prevailed against them.” Under the sway of death, sin began to dominate human existence the whole affair tipping toward madness, violence, and darkness. The Image of God began slipping away from us: “For these reasons, then, with death holding greater sway and corruption remaining fast against human beings, the race of humans was perishing, and the human being, made rational and in the image, was disappearing, and the work made by God was being obliterated.”

The human being was disappearing. That was the problem. The Image of God in us was being slowly obliterated.

So as we see in Athanasius, the issue isn’t really about our need for God to forgive our sins. The problem was that, separated from God’s life, the entire human project was falling into darkness and chaos. The human being was disappearing, leaving only beasts upon the earth. Sure, God needs to forgive us. But God needs to do something more drastic and dramatic to keep the cosmos from tipping over into death and dissolution, to save and secure the Image of God that was fading from the world.

And God does this more dramatic and drastic thing by reuniting God’s divine nature with human flesh through the Incarnation. In the Incarnation God permanently marks human flesh with His Image. More, through the resurrection of Incarnated flesh, humans were given power over death and corruption.

The key idea here for Athanasius, and for Paul in Romans, is that salvation is fundamentally about power, a power human flesh lacks when separated from God’s divine life. And for Paul, it’s the gift of the Spirit that gives us this power. The Spirit is our tether, our umbilical cord, to God’s life.

So for Paul, the gospel message isn’t primarily about “the forgiveness of sins.” The Good News is fundamentally about reunion and participation in the Divine Life, the power of the Spirit to overcome our weakness and incapacity in the face of Sin and Death:

If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Spirit who dwells in you.

The Coming Roman Catholic Collapse?

Art by Julie Lonneman

If the structure of clericalism is not dismantled, the Roman Catholic Church will not survive, and will not deserve to.

James Carroll

• • •

James Carroll, former priest from the Vatican II era, Boston Globe columnist and author, has written a devastating and poignant call for a complete reformation of the Roman Catholic clerical system in Vanity Fair.

He begins with a retrospective of the coming to light of the Catholic priest sex abuse scandals and the cover ups that “will produce an avalanche of scandal for years to come.” Carroll worked in tandem with the “Spotlight” team at the Boston Globe, producing more than a dozen articles about the scandal on the op-ed page. And yet Carroll remained a practicing Catholic until the summer of 2018, placing almost a “desperate hope” in Pope Francis to lead a real reform in the church.

Then he made a personal choice.

For the first time in my life, and without making a conscious decision, I simply stopped going to Mass. I embarked on an unwilled version of the Catholic tradition of “fast and abstinence”—in this case, fasting from the Eucharist and abstaining from the overt practice of my faith. I am not deluding myself that this response of mine has significance for anyone else—Who cares? It’s about time!—but for me the moment is a life marker. I have not been to Mass in months. I carry an ocean of grief in my heart.

James Carroll continues his article with a heartfelt appreciation of the virtues of the Catholic faith and the sacrificial love and service by which legions of “selfless women and men care for the poor, teach the unlettered, heal the sick, and work to preserve minimal standards of the common good.”

Like many idealistic and dedicated Catholics of his era, he had hoped that the changes brought about through Vatican II would put the church on a new path of revival and reformation. Carroll became a Paulist priest, a devoted advocate of Pope John’s vision, codified in the Council, that the church was from now on to be defined as “the People of God,” with liturgical reforms and a redefining of the clerical role as “servants” among God’s people rather than as rulers over them.

However, as Carroll notes, the church was only able to deal symbolically with a core issue of the institution. It led to his leaving the priesthood.

What Vatican II did not do, or was unable to do, except symbolically, was take up the issue of clericalism—the vesting of power in an all-male and celibate clergy. My five years in the priesthood, even in its most liberal wing, gave me a fetid taste of this caste system. Clericalism, with its cult of secrecy, its theological misogyny, its sexual repressiveness, and its hierarchical power based on threats of a doom-laden afterlife, is at the root of Roman Catholic dysfunction. The clerical system’s obsession with status thwarts even the merits of otherwise good priests and distorts the Gospels’ message of selfless love, which the Church was established to proclaim. Clericalism is both the underlying cause and the ongoing enabler of the present Catholic catastrophe. I left the priesthood 45 years ago, before knowing fully what had soured me, but clericalism was the reason.

In arguing against the clerical system of the Roman Catholic Church, he marshals a historical argument against it, stating that, in the days of the Emperor Constantine, the organizational structure of the church was transformed from a more egalitarian community into an institution modeled after the patterns of the Roman Empire.

But under Emperor Constantine, in the fourth century, Christianity effectively became the imperial religion and took on the trappings of the empire itself. A diocese was originally a Roman administrative unit. A basilica, a monumental hall where the emperor sat in majesty, became a place of worship. A diverse and decentralized group of churches was transformed into a quasi-imperial institution—centralized and hierarchical, with the bishop of Rome reigning as a monarch. Church councils defined a single set of beliefs as orthodox, and everything else as heresy.

At about the same time, the influence of Augustine’s theology, which posited sex as a root of all evil, led to a tightening of the reins within the church. Celibacy, which had emerged in ascetic forms of the faith as a means of engaging God more intimately, developed an almost cult-like status, devaluing the body and the earthiness of faith, separating into classes those who practiced it and those ordinary folks who didn’t. James Carroll notes that there were pragmatic considerations as well.

In the Middle Ages, as vast land holdings and treasure came under Church control, priestly celibacy was made mandatory in order to thwart inheritance claims by the offspring of prelates. Seen this way, celibacy was less a matter of spirituality than of power.

As a result,

The Church’s maleness and misogyny became inseparable from its structure. The conceptual underpinnings of clericalism can be laid out simply: Women were subservient to men. Laypeople were subservient to priests, who were defined as having been made “ontologically” superior by the sacrament of holy orders. Removed by celibacy from competing bonds of family and obligation, priests were slotted into a clerical hierarchy that replicated the medieval feudal order.

Today, Carroll observes, the strongest opposition to Pope Francis has come from those most devoted to the structure of clericalism. This is so bound up with sexuality, that any attempt to loosen the church’s teachings, such as readmitting the divorced and remarried to the sacrament of Communion has been fiercely opposed. Simply put, the very power structure of the church — rule by clerics — depends upon keeping a very strict code in place regarding sexuality, which includes a male-only priesthood and the requirement of celibacy. This code is enforced by the hierarchy, which has historically had little accountability to anyone save themselves.

But perhaps we are seeing evidence that this strict code, this law, as it were, is doing exactly what the Apostle Paul said it would do when he wrote that the law serves to arouse and stimulate one’s sinful passions rather than keep them in check (Romans 7:5). And when that law is embedded in a system that provides cover, secrecy, and the incentive to hide breaches of the law, James Carroll’s conclusion is all but certain: “A power structure that is accountable only to itself will always end up abusing the powerless.”

He is certainly not saying that all priests are sexual abusers. But he also thinks that one of the reasons so many other priests and church officials have looked away and resisted investigation may be because they too have violated their vows of celibacy in other significant ways.

Furthermore, there is a pervasive theological culture, James Carroll suggests, which is continually reminding priests of their unworthiness — “a guilt-ridden clerical subculture of moral deficiency [that] has made all priests party to a quiet dissembling about the deep disorder of their own condition.” This does not lend itself to a healthy view of self and others and it eviscerates the possibility of accountability. It led James Carroll to believe that “the very priesthood is toxic.”

Nor are the laity immune from criticism. The same theological culture has led multitudes of Catholics to simply ignore the church’s teachings on contraception, divorce and remarriage, and other matters related to human sexuality. In Carroll’s words, “Catholics in general have perfected the art of looking the other way.”

In response, James Carroll call for nothing less than a new Reformation, marked by taking seriously Vatican II’s definition of the church as the People of God.

What if multitudes of the faithful, appalled by what the sex-abuse crisis has shown the Church leadership to have become, were to detach themselves from—and renounce—the cassock-ridden power structure of the Church and reclaim Vatican II’s insistence that that power structure is not the Church? The Church is the people of God. The Church is a community that transcends space and time. Catholics should not yield to clerical despots the final authority over our personal relationship to the Church. I refuse to let a predator priest or a complicit bishop rip my faith from me.

The Reformation, which erupted 500 years ago, boiled down to a conflict over the power of the priest. To translate scripture into the vernacular, as Martin Luther and others did, was to remove the clergy’s monopoly on the sacred heart of the faith. Likewise, to introduce democratic structures into religious governance, elevating the role of the laity, was to overturn the hierarchy according to which every ordained person occupied a place of superiority.

…Replacing the diseased model of the Church with something healthy may involve, for a time, intentional absence from services or life on the margins—less in the pews than in the rearmost shadows. But it will always involve deliberate performance of the works of mercy: feeding the hungry, caring for the poor, visiting the sick, striving for justice. These can be today’s chosen forms of the faith. It will involve, for many, unauthorized expressions of prayer and worship—egalitarian, authentic, ecumenical; having nothing to do with diocesan borders, parish boundaries, or the sacrament of holy orders. That may be especially true in so-called intentional communities that lift up the leadership of women. These already exist, everywhere. No matter who presides at whatever form the altar takes, such adaptations of Eucharistic observance return to the theological essence of the sacrament. Christ is experienced not through the officiant but through the faith of the whole community. “For where two or three are gathered in my name,” Jesus said, “there am I in the midst of them.”

Simply summarized, according to James Carroll: “If the structure of clericalism is not dismantled, the Roman Catholic Church will not survive, and will not deserve to.”

Some questions that came up this week…

Some questions that came up this week

Is it really “the mother of all rebellions” for a woman to preach on Mother’s Day?

or

Is this sharp objection really all about “protecting systems”?

and, while we’re on the subject,

Is there really some silly pietist saying that a mom who enjoys being the center of attention on Mother’s Day may be revealing “a root of idolatry”? (Who thinks this stuff up?)

Is Pat Robertson right when he says the Alabama abortion law has gone too far?

or

Is Senator Kirsten Gillibrand right when she says abortion laws like Georgia and Alabama passed are “against our Christian faith”?

or

Do these abortion laws, indeed, represent “a progressive step forward”?

Finally…

What is at “the heart of the evangelical crisis”?

Mark Galli begins a new series on American evangelicalism at CT. In the first installment, he writes about how he has come to agree more with what Michael Spencer said in his “Evangelical Collapse” articles.

I encourage you to read this piece carefully and to follow the series. We’ll be doing so here as well.

Is There Purpose in Biology?  The Cost of Existence and the God of Love. By Denis Alexander, Chapter 4: Biology, Randomness, Chance and Purpose (Part 2)

Is There Purpose in Biology?: The Cost of Existence and the God of Love. By Denis Alexander,

Chapter 4: Biology, Randomness, Chance and Purpose (Part 2)

We are reviewing the book: Is There Purpose in Biology?  The Cost of Existence and the God of Love. By Denis Alexander.  Chapter 4: Biology, Randomness, Chance and Purpose, Part 2 is the continuation from last week.  In the first part of Chapter 4, Denis defines the terms “random”, “chance”, and “chaos” as they are used in the scientific community as opposed to the common parlance.  Denis begins this part of the chapter by recounting the story of a medical student coming up to him after a lecture on evolution and religion.  This student wanted to know, given evolution, how the first anatomically modern human could be born out of an ape.  This is a common misconception – evolution means, at some point, an ape couple gives birth to a human baby because of genetic mutations. However, he states the basic idea of evolution can be stated as:

·         GENETIC VARIATION HAPPENS

·         INDIVIDUALS ARE SELECTED

·         POPULATIONS EVOLVE

It’s this third aspect that trips up so many, like Denis’ medical student.  Most people do not understand how evolution purports to work.  They think it involves substantial changes in multiple organisms in the same generation for a change to pass down over time.  Such changes are wildly improbable and so they conclude evolution is wildly improbable.  If evolution worked that way, they’d be right.  But evolution involves the shifting of average characteristics of populations over long periods of time.  Individuals DO NOT evolve, populations do. 

Despite all appearances to the contrary, these are NOT examples of evolution

The answer to the question, “So how did we go from zero (humans) to thousands” is that we didn’t.  There was always a population of thousands.  As the average characteristics of the ancestral population to humans and chimpanzees changed, the group of thousands that eventually became human became more human-like generation after generation. The change from one generation to the next would not be immediately recognizable as it would be a subtle shift in the AVERAGE characteristics of the population as a whole.   It is a continuum over millions of years, and most people cannot imagine the time frame.  There was NO one point where daddy and mommy were apes and the little baby was a human.  Dennis Venema, in the book Adam and the Genome, gives a very useful analogy in the evolution of the Anglo-Saxon language to Modern English.  You can find a description of that analogy in my review of the book here .

That being said, in the present context, it is the first and second aspects of the process that are the most relevant if we are to address satisfactorily the claim that “evolution is not a theory of chance”.  Genetic variation provides the “raw material” of evolution.  It generates much of the innovation involved in the process.  Most people do not realize how much genetic variation there is in different living organisms, much less within our own human species.  Denis notes that we all vary from each other in around 0.5% of our total 3.2 billion genetic letters – that’s around 16 million letters.  New mutations come into the human population at every new birth.  This has been demonstrated most clearly in large family studies in which whole genomes from individuals within families – father, mother, and child – were sequenced and compared.  He cites a Dutch study (Francioli et al., 2015) where 250 families had their DNA sequenced.  For each offspring in this study, there was an average of 38 mutations.  That’s a lot, even if many of the mutations were neutral – neither deleterious nor beneficial.  Denis says it is worth considering how many ways there are for a genome to vary, because only then can we begin to address the question as to whether any given change that occurs is random or happens by chance.  He notes:

  1. Point mutations. Changes in a single nucleotide (SNPs)
  2. Indels. Insertion or deletion of a short section of DNA.
  3. Transposons. The so-called “jumping genes”. A transposable element is a DNA sequence that can change its position within a genome, sometimes creating or reversing mutations and altering the cell’s genetic identity and genome size.
  4. Gene duplication. It can be defined as any duplication of a region of DNA that contains a gene. Gene duplications can arise as products of several types of errors in DNA replication and repair machinery as well as through fortuitous capture by selfish genetic elements.
  5. Structural mutations. This kind of chromosomal mutation usually occurs during larger errors in cell division than indels.

Gene flow is the second mechanism for introducing genetic variation into an interbreeding population.  This refers to the flow of new genetic variants that comes into a population when exposed to another population of the same species from which they have been separated for some time by barriers such as mountains or rivers.  Lateral or horizontal gene transfer is the movement of genetic material between unicellular and/or multicellular organisms other than by the (“vertical”) transmission of DNA from parent to offspring. 

Retroviral insertion: a retrovirus is a type of RNA virus that inserts a copy of its genome into the DNA of a host cell that it invades, thus changing the genome of that cell. Once inside the host cell’s cytoplasm, the virus uses its own reverse transcriptase enzyme to produce DNA from its RNA genome, the reverse of the usual pattern, thus retro (backwards).  Viruses are everywhere – 6,000 feet below the surface of the earth, in the sands of the Sahara desert, and in icy lakes.  An estimated 1031 viral particles live on the planet (there are roughly 1022 stars estimated in the universe).  A kilogram of marine muck was found to contain up to a million genetically variant viruses.  Our own guts may contain as many as 1,200 different viruses.

Import of organelles (the term organelle is derived from the word ‘organ’ and refers to compartments within the cell that perform a specific function) containing their own DNA represents a fifth and indeed rather dramatic way in which genetic variation has come into the genome at various critical moments in evolutionary history.  This occurred when bacteria that had probably started living symbiotically inside cells then became permanent residents and developed into the mitochondria and chloroplasts that we see in cells today.

Denis says that given this extensive and rather bewildering array of different mechanism for generating variant genomes, it might seem surprising that genetic variation between individual of the same species is no more different than it is.  However, with background information in place, we are now in a better position to ask whether the generation of genetic variation is truly random or not.

It will be remembered that there are two distinct meanings of the word “random” in the context of biology.  The most commonly used meaning simply refers to the fact that genetic variation comes into the genome without the good or ill the organism in view.  This is a banal and obvious definition, how could it be otherwise?  It is trivially true.

The second and more interesting meaning involves the mathematical question as to whether each nucleotide in the genome, or each section of the genome, is equally likely to be mutated.  This is what would need to be the case if mutations were truly random in the second sense.  Denis says the short answer to this question is: NO. He then proceeds to give the long answer – and cites numerous studies that show mutation clustering occurs and that there are sequences of DNA, “mutational hot spots” is how he puts it, that are more likely than others to be the site of changes. It is a complex and detailed discussion beyond the scope of this post and likely for most of you to be eyes-glazing-over in detail.  I will spare you the detail, as well as spare myself the task of recounting it, which would involve pretty much typing it out word for word. 

With all that as background, Denis can now assess the processes involved in generating genetic variation according to the 3 understandings of “chance” outlined in the previous post.  To recap:

1.       The first is sometimes called epistemological chance because it refers to all those events that are perfectly lawlike in how they happen, but about which we have insufficient knowledge of their antecedents to make predictions.

2.       The second main type of chance we can call ontological chance, because there are no antecedents that could possibly be known that could enable a prediction, even in principle.

3.       The third type of chance we might call metaphysical chance.  This is the idea that chance somehow rules over everything, almost as if it were an agency or metaphysical principle.

Clearly there is plenty of epistemological chance going on here.  The systems are too complex to make any specific predictions as individual mutations are concerned.  However, once we start averaging large numbers, well-justified generalization can be made about such items such as mutation rates, where mutations are more likely to occur, and which chromosomes are more likely to undergo structural changes.

What about ontological chance?  The emission of radioactive particles, as previously noted, displays quantum uncertainty and is not predictable even in principle.  But ionizing radiation causes mutations in DNA and, by the law of averaging large numbers, their average outputs and consequent average effects on DNA can likewise be predicted.  But it is impossible, even in principle, to predict the timing of individual mutation events. Could this then contribute to the idea that evolution is a theory of chance?  Denis says not really, because natural selection acts as the stringent sieve that selects which mutations will be maintained in a population and which will be discarded. 

What about Jacques Monod and the “Lady Luck” personification of metaphysical chance?  We now know that many types of mutation are not really random in the mathematical sense in terms of their clustered distribution through the genome.  The lack of randomness in the origins of genetic variation highlights the risk of hitching one’s philosophy to scientific theories or understandings.  Science moves on very fast and so the philosophy in question can be quickly widowed.

Which brings us to the second main phase of the evolutionary process – natural selection.  Natural selection is the process by which heritable traits increase an organism’s chances of survival and reproduction. These traits are favored than less beneficial traits. Originally proposed by Charles Darwin, natural selection is the process that results in the evolution of organism.  When genetic variation does make a difference for good in the organism, the organism will, over many generations, have greater numbers of offspring – reproductive success, which is what “survival of the fittest” actually is.  The key point about natural selection is the successful reproduction which ensures that an individual’s genes are passed on to the next generation. 

Natural selection is a rigorous filter that reduces the amount of genetic variation in a population.  It is a very conservative mechanism.  The reason for this is that the great majority of genetic changes, if not neutral, are likely to be deleterious and will be removed from the populations after some generations.  The few beneficial changes will readily pass through the filters of natural selection and quickly spread throughout an interbreeding population as they bestow reproductive benefits on their recipients.

An example of this conservative nature is cytochrome c.  Cytochrome c is a highly conserved protein across the spectrum of species, found in plants, animals, and many unicellular organisms. Humans share 97% sequence identity of cytochrome c with rhesus monkeys, 87% with the dog, 82% with the bat, 67% with the fruit fly, 64% with the moth, 44% with yeast, with which we last shared a common ancestor about a billion years ago.  44%!!! Natural selection is a really conservative process. Denis says:

“The conservative nature of natural selection may also be seen in the types of convergent evolution that were surveyed in the previous two chapters.  The same or similar adaptations keep popping up in evolutionary history in independent lineages for the simple reason that these happen to be the best that you can get under a given set of circumstances.  When similar ecological niches occur again with similar environmental properties, natural selection ensures that similar adaptive solutions will found to life’s challenges.

“It should by now be clear why it doesn’t really matter whether variation comes into the genome via the pathway of epistemological chance (most of it) or ontological chance (as in radiation effects), as in both cases the winnowing effects of natural selection are what have the upper hand in bringing about certain constrained outcomes.”

It is a common assumption that a chance process cannot at the same time be one with a purpose.  This chapter highlights the implausibility of that suggestion.  Two out of the three kinds of chance discussed above have clearly been critical in the evolutionary process.  Yet individual animals and plants exist for the purpose of being alive, of feeding, of procreation.  Their existence is teleological albeit purpose with a small “p”.  The giraffe has a long neck for the purpose of reaching food on high branches; the whale rises to the surface for the purpose of breathing; the polar bear has white fur for the purpose of camouflage; and so on.  You cannot avoid telos in biology.

Still, Purpose with a big “P” is not something that can be derived from biology.  We’ve critiqued Monod for his attempt to imbue lack-of-purpose by metaphysical extrapolation.  By the same token, we cannot infer Purpose simply from the fact that the evolutionary process is highly organized, constrained and, to a limited extend, predictable.  Biology is simply not up to the task of providing some overall Purpose and meaning in life that everybody can agree on.  It is above evolution’s pay-grade to play that kind of role.

On the other hand, Denis says the evolutionary process is perfectly compatible with having some overall Purpose (which he considers in the next chapter) despite having chance mechanisms involved.  Consider, for example, the lottery.  All those little balls with numbers bouncing around in the machine are fulfilling their Purpose.  The Purpose, designed by the government, to take money from poor people, make a few people rich, and generate a healthy tax for said government.  A chance process is used to generate outcomes that are absolutely certain.  If someone doesn’t win this week, then they’ll win the next, or whenever, someone will win.  Chance processes are by no means incompatible with determined outcomes.  Denis says:

“What should be equally clear from this and the previous two chapters is that the claim that evolution is necessarily Purposeless is now looking simply irrational.”

A Confusion of Place and Time

The essential mistake in most Christian eschatology, as it is presented and understood, especially in popular, grassroots Christianity, involves a confusion of place and time.

To most Christians, the most vital issue is what happens to us after we die. And the most crucial question about the afterlife is where will we go? Common answers include heaven, hell, and purgatory. These are imagined as real places and a lot of biblical imagery is assigned to them, as well as many centuries of church history and teaching, art and literature.

Exactly how (in what form) we exist in these places is a matter of much discussion and debate. Most posit some kind of immaterial existence — our “soul” or our “spirit” is taken into God’s care. As N.T. Wright puts it, it’s as though the “hardware” goes to the grave, while the “software” goes to God, awaiting the day when the “software” will be reinstalled into brand new “hardware.”

But it is hard for us to grasp what un-embodied life would be like. So, when I attend the deaths of my patients, I commonly hear people talking about their deceased loved ones now dancing with joy and interacting in common ways with other family members who have gone before. They even talk about their loved one having a new body, as though death leads directly to resurrection so that people can literally walk on the streets of gold and play cards again with Uncle Billy.

Indeed, some theologians have posited that we receive some kind of body for the intermediate state that then becomes transformed at the resurrection into the permanent eternal body.

Though not as widely proposed, some take the biblical metaphor of “sleep” literally and say that we have no conscious existence between death and the day of resurrection when our bodies are raised and made new.

Regardless of one’s position on the human state after death, however, all agree that the ultimate goal is for us to go to a new place — to heaven, our “eternal home.”

This, however, misreads the Bible. The essence of the Christian hope is that there is an age to come that will play out in this world, not an alternative place where we are going. We confuse time with geography.

We are not looking to relocate. Where we are right now will do fine, as far as God is concerned. According to Ephesians 1:10, …this is the plan: At the right time he will bring everything together under the authority of Christ—everything in heaven and on earth” (NLT).

The point is that God will dwell among us — we will not go away somewhere to God’s “house.” Heaven will come to earth, as the metaphorical description in Revelation 21 indicates. Christ will reign here. God will transform this world and raise us up to live in it — we will not leave it to go to a better place somewhere else. The creation God made will become a new creation, the One who created “the heavens and the earth” will make “a new heavens and a new earth.”

That is why this life and this world should mean so much to us now. This is our home. And somehow, in some ways, there will be radical continuity (as well as discontinuity) between our life now and our life to come.

I know why people want to focus on a place, especially when a loved one dies. They want to know their loved one is somewhere safe, where he or she is cared for. I believe this to be the case, even when trying to envision what an intermediate state actually looks like is hard. So I usually just try to reassure people by saying their loved one is now in God’s care.

As for the ultimate hope, I think we lack imagination that a world like ours, with all that humans have done to corrupt it, can ever be fully transformed. However, this is the Christian hope — a new me, a new you in new bodies living a transformed terrestrial existence, a new humanity experiencing shalom in God’s presence in this very world, made new.

Bits of Wisdom from Jean Vanier

Bits of Wisdom from Jean Vanier

The spirituality of L’Arche implies that we act like rabbits and not like giraffes. Giraffes see from afar where they should go. Rabbits sniff their way. We are sniffing our way along, and we will go in the right direction if we keep eating with the poor, living with them, listening to them. (p. 104)

Fundamentally, when people start lamenting because there are people with handicaps in our world, the question is whether it is more sad that there are people with handicaps or that there are people who reject them. Which is the greater handicap? (p. 54)

The mystery is that Jesus is hidden in the poorest and in the weakest but also in the poverty of our own being. (p. 124)

Our modern world has fantastic power and knowledge. Man has conquered the moon, delved into the secret of matter, and discovered immense energies. Yes, we have amazing knowledge. But the only real knowledge necessary for the survival of the human race is lacking: the knowledge of how to transform violence and hatred into tenderness and forgiveness; how to stop the chain of aggression against the weak; how to see differences as a value rather than as a threat; how to stop people from envying those who have more and incite them to share with those who have less. (p. 63)

Aren’t we all Lazarus?
Are there not parts in each one of us that are dead,
caught up in a culture of death?
All that is dead in us,
more or less hidden in our unconscious self,
in the shadow areas or the “tomb” of our being,
provokes a kind of death around us.
We judge and condemn and push people down,
wanting to show that we are better than they.
We refuse to listen to those who are different,
and so we hurt them.
All these destructive acts have their origin
in all that is dead within us,
all that creates a stench in the hidden parts of our being,
which we do not want to look at or admit.

Jesus wants us to rise up and to become fully alive.
He calls us out of the tomb we carry within us,
just as God called Ezekiel to raise up from the dead
all those people of Israel
who were lying in the tomb of despair.

Thus says the Lord God,
“I am going to open your tombs
and raise you up from your tombs, O my people….
I will put my spirit in you and you shall live.” (Ezek. 37: 12,14)

This is what Jesus wants for each one of us today. (p. 91f)

I can really understand people who are atheists. I can really understand people who proclaim that they do not believe in God because what they are saying is that they do not believe in false gods. They do not believe in a romantic God that just blesses human beings by making them rich. They do not believe in a God who is going to punish them. Some atheists, who refuse to believe in these false gods, have a deep sense of the human heart and a deep sense of the human reality. (p. 135f)

Let us simply stop and start listening to our own hearts. There we will touch a lot of pain. We will possibly touch a lot of anger. We will possibly touch a lot of loneliness and anguish. Then we will hear something deeper. We will hear the voice of Jesus; we will hear the voice of God. We will discover that the heart of Christ, in some mysterious way, is hidden in my heart and there, we will hear, “I love you. You are precious to my eyes and I love you.” (p. 40)

As we learn to wait, we begin to discover the whole mystery of creation. On the one side God is so great, so beautiful and we are so small and so poor. We discover that God is at the beginning and at the end of all things. He is the alpha and the omega. He is the seed and he is the cedar tree. He is the beauty of all our world, and as I disappear into the earth, the sun will continue to rise and to set. I am part of something much bigger, much wider, much more beautiful than I can ever imagine. Our God is making this world move in love. God, independent of our world but totally united in some mysterious way to our hearts and to the hearts of this world, is present and is the eternal “now”…

As I discover the vastness of the project of history and the littleness of my being, I discover that it is all right simply to wait. It is all right just to be as I am, for there is something much larger than my vision and my program, no matter how large it may appear in this world. God is there at the source and the end of all things. And as I wait, somewhere I am saying, “I trust you.” (p. 146)

• • •

Today’s quotes are from Jean Vanier: Essential Writings (Modern Spiritual Masters)
Modern Spiritual Masters Series
Orbis Books (October 30, 2008)