Becoming a Christian

At a meeting, Kathleen Norris says she was humbled by hearing so esteemed a theologian as Karl Rahner cry out, "I have still to become a Christian."

Our bi-monthly denominational news journal always includes a simple outline of “How to Become a Christian.” At the denominational university where I teach, regularly we hear chapel speakers tell us how to become a Christian. We have many students who are committed to asking people whether they are a Christian; if they answer in the negative, they tell them how to become a Christian. After reflecting on this particular evangelistic use of language that I’ve heard all my life, I ‘ve come to believe they are really concerned to tell, not, how to become a Christian, but, how to come to be a Christian. Once the appropriate steps are taken one is a Christian. It is a done deal. Eternally irreversible.

I’ve been around Christians ever since my father left the farm and began preaching when I was less than two years old. I spent ten yeas in theological seminaries, and have been teaching Christian Studies in a denominational university for the past thirty years. Christians come in all shapes, sizes, attitudes, political and economic leanings. But they all come in shadings; they are all Christian “to a degree.” “If any man be in Christ,” the New Testament says, “he is a new creature. Old things are passed away, behold, all things are become new.” Among the thousands of Christians I have known and observed, I have never seen one for whom all old things have passed away, and it takes little exposure to reveal that not all aspects of their thought, mood, attitude and action have become new.

They may be in the process of becoming a Christian. Old things may be in the process of being shed or tossed aside. Their life increasingly take on new and more Christlike dimensions, but they still have a ways to go before they are truly Christ-ian. The apostle Paul write that he continued to “press on,” toward the goal; he realized he had “not yet attained it.” Repeatedly he wrote to those he called “brothers in Christ,” commending them for their Christian character and deeds, but urging them to become yet more Christian, to mature in Christ, to more completely become what they already are.

So, like Rahner, we would do well to realize that, although we may come to accept the salvation offered by the gracious God who accepts us just as we are, we are disciples–followers, learners, apprentices–of Jesus. Christianity is a process. We all must “press on” toward that higher ground beyond, a place more enjoyable than we’ve yet known, with a deeper, richer peace than we can now imagine.

Unsaid

A life-changing experience when, several years ago, I read that when we die there is "so much left unsaid." I felt struck in the pit of the stomach. I had so much in me, so much I thought of importance, that had never been said to any of the appropriate people.

Starting with my wife at the head of the list, I made a commitment to leave nothing unsaid. And since I knew not the span of my life, I began immediately finding occasion to say it all. To her, the rest of the family, colleagues, friends, and enemies (yes, I had some things to say to them). As a university professor, I made it a point to include as much as possible of what I wanted to say (within the parameters of my discipline) in the classroom.

There was so much, however, that went beyond family, friends, enemies. I've done a good job of getting most of that said. In that sense I am ready to die, But....

So much still in me that needed to be said (at least that is what I think and smartingly feel). So, upon retirement, I began writing a couple of books and thinking of another or two. Then I began blogging and recently started three different Twitter accounts. I intend to continue writing, for public consumption, the rest of my life, God willing. I want to get it said, as much as in me is possible.

And you? If you were to die soon, how much that you want to say, ought to say, would be left unsaid?

Secrets, What to Do with Them

"...a secret is something that is revealed to one person at a time." --John LeCarre

I have a secret. What do I do with it/ If I keep it to myself, it is a true secret? It is private part of who I am. It is not public. No one else knows about this part of me. It is a part of me that no one can own. It is part of what makes me a distinctive person.

If I tell someone else, anyone else, it is no longer a secret. "Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead." It is a rare person who can keep a secret. It is risky and potentially dangerous to share it with anyone. If they tell someone else, it is likely to spread, and that which was unique to me is now part of the public perception of me, and may become a subject of gossip.

On the other hand, if I tell my closest friend, a friend who I know can keep secrets, then my friend and I have something that we alone can share. It gives our friendship a deeper and richer element. It enhances intimacy.

If I tell several close friends, and if they are people who can be trusted to keep confidences, we become a close-knit group sharing something that distinguishes us from the rest of the world. We appreciate the trust and support.

On still another hand it is common for us to, as LeCarre says, to tell one person at a time, telling each of them to tell no one else. We ask them not to, but we continue telling several. At some point secrecy is likely to break down.

Telling secrets, our own or one entrusted to us by someone else, is risky and often dangerous. On one hand it is a way to enhance intimacy and bind people more closely together, on the other hand it is one of the most common ways of damaging the relationship we had with someone whose trust we have now betrayed.

So, what are we to do with our secrets? Be mighty careful about them.
On the other hand,

The Cost of Morality

In Susan Howatch’s novel, Sins of the Fathers, Teresa says to the banker, “I don’t believe in capitalism. I think it’s immoral.” He replies, “Morality is like mink, it’s great if you can afford it.”
In Twenty-first-Century society in the United states, morality is not on the “in” list of concepts. It definitely is “out.” The bottom line is in. The self is in. Success is in. The moral perspective on things is considered a nice but outdated concept. Nietzsche’s philosophy that morality is a sign of weakness, is for the loser, and needs to be revised in an upside-down manner is, perhaps unconsciously, the ruling philosophy.

“Morality is great if you can afford it”? That is true. If we are moral,that is, if we insist on doing the “right” thing, we are apt to lose out to those who insist on making a profit, winning first place, get promoted. Morality is okay to speak of if you already have all your bases covered, all your ducks in a row. Otherwise, morality is expendable.

Those of us who insist on being moral, acting ethically, doing the right thing, need to be aware that it often will cost us. True morality is aware of the price that must be paid, but knows that it will cost more in a different kind of coin if we choose to act unethically. If nothing else, our conscience will powerfully and painfully remind us of the cost of immorality.

Can we afford to do the right thing whatever the cost, or must we count the cost before we decide to live morally?

Censoring the Bible

“In recent years, some Benedictine houses, particularly women’s communities, have begun censoring the harshest of the psalms, often called the ‘cursing psalms,’ from their public worship.” --Kathleen Norris, Cloister, p. 97.

The church, across most of the centuries of its history, has acquired quite a reputation for censoring literature. Most unchurched people would be quite surprised to learn that the church, in its actual practice, censors the Christian Bible rather thoroughly. Thomas Jefferson is reputed to have taken his pen knife and cut out of his Bible every reference to anything miraculous, anything supernatural. It is still possible to buy copies of The Jefferson Bible. Christians decry Jefferson’s truncation, but themselves routinely do much the same.

If the Bible were made into a Hollywood movie, and if the movie were faithful to the text, much of it could not receive a “G” rating. Rather much of it would have to be rated either “PG-13,” or “R,” both for sex and violence. See in particular much of Joshua and Judges or the entire story of the rape of Dinah in Genesis 34 or the story of Judah--from whom the Jews get their name--and his visit with a “prostitute.” Read the entire story of David. When we tell these stories in Sunday School classes, we edit out those parts that would not be “in good taste” to read in polite company.

In our Bible study groups and in Sunday sermons, we get uneasy with parts of the Bible not only for sex and violence, but also because it is also comfortable with bathroom language, and with strong language of rebuke, bitterness and hatred. We don’t talk that language, or about those things in church, although we do everywhere else.

Darkness and ugliness are part of human reality and therefore a part of biblical reality. But because we see ourselves as clean, respectable, and nice people, we find that there is much in the Bible that it just would not be right to read publicly in church.

The World's Tears

"All you who sleep tonight
Far from the ones you love,
No hand to left or right,
And emptiness above--

Know that you aren't alone.
The whole world shares your tears,
Some for two nights or one,
And some for all their years."
--Vikram Seth

Whatever you think of Jesus of Nazareth, if you read his story in the four gospels, you know that he shares the world's tears. He understands, and cares, and some of us think he has done and is doing something redemptive about those tears.

Secret Life of Germs

“The number of these animalcules in the scurf of a man’s teeth are so many, that I believe they exceed the number of men in a kingdom.”
–Antoni van Leeuwenhoek, 1684
Quoted in Philip Tierno, The Secret Life of Germs

Anyone in their right mind would know Leeuwenhoek had to have been wrong. How could he know? He was probably guessing.

Whereas Tierno, highly acclaimed and respected microbiologists, will update us with modern science, the humorous poet, Ogden Nash, has his own take on germs.

A mighty creature is the germ,
Though smaller than a pachyderm.
His customary dwelling place
Is deep inside the human race.
His childish pride he often pleases
By giving people strange diseases.
Do you, my poppet, feel infirm?
You probably contain a germ.

Tierno tells us:

There are more germs in our intestines than there are stars in the sky, some thousand billion germs per gram of matter. The number of germ cells in the human body actually exceeds the number of body cells by a factor of ten. And the combined weight of microscopic germs exceeds the combined weight of all living animals and plants.

He continues, saying: “Germs are so important in the ecology of the world that alien observers might conclude that they are the dominant life form on our planet.” And again, “In fact, there are more germs in the intestinal tract of a human being than the number of people who have ever lived.”

And yet, we are able to coexist with this unimaginable mass of microbes. You would think they would do us in, and, worldwide, they are the number-one killer ( In the U.S. they are number three). But, as most of us already know, there are good germs and bad germs and we could not survive without the good ones. But the bad ones are always at the gate, attempting to get in.

Ordinarily germs, good and bad, coexist in a system of checks and balances, with only a fine line between, and the bad guys cross that line every chance they get.

So what? Two suggestions, and maybe more. First, Mother was right. Wash your hands often, especially after using the bathroom. This may sound so commonplace that you dismiss me as if I were kind of kindergarten teacher speaking to mature adults in kindergarten platitudes. Maybe so, but research indicates that more than 60 percent of people fail to wash their hands after using public restrooms, and less than 10 percent wash them very well. At the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota, they have a slogan: “The ten worst sources of contagion are our fingers.”

I suggest, in the second place, that you either obtain a copy of the book, or check it out from your public library (if they don’t have it, they can get it for you on interlibrary loan). It is a very well-written, easy and enjoyable reading.

[I’ll come back and write a little more after lunch. I’ve just been told I have five minutes. I’ve got to wash my hands.]
______________

The eighth chapter of the biblical book of Psalms raises a question that goes something like this:

O Lord, when I look at the night sky and the work of your fingers–
the moon and stars you put in place–
what are people that you should think about them,
mere mortals that you should care for them?

The great philosopher, Immanuel Kant said there were two things that filled him with awe: the starry heavens above and the moral law within.

The old cowboy, at “home on the range,” sang his wonder:

How often at night, ‘neath the heavens so bright,
by the light of the glittering stars
have I stood there amazed, and asked as I gazed
if their glory exceeds that of ours.

The great philosopher and mathematician, Blaise Pascal, felt “engulfed in the infinite immensity of spaces whereof I know nothing, and which know nothing of me. I am terrified. The eternal silence of these infinite spaces alarms me.”

I live “deep in the heart of Texas” where “the stars at night are big and bright.” On dark nights, away from city lights, I’ve looked at the stars with wonder; I am a kinsman to the psalm writer, the cowboys, and the philosophers.

But when I learn from Tierno about the world of microorganisms, a world those in prior centuries did not know, I can be terrified, alarmed, filled with awe, and wonder about the place of us humans in this world of incredible biodiversity. I am certain that God loves diversity, that in his creation he has been extravagant, and that our appropriate response to it all is wonder, awe, humility, modesty, and grateful for having a place amid these riches. These risky, dangerous, adventurous, challenging, and exciting riches.

It is with great risk that we ever tamper with it. We put ourselves in peril every time we modify God’s creations for our real or supposed benefit. The good germs and the bad germs live within us always in tension, always facing the possibility that the bad will cross that fine line. Sometimes the good germs are unprepared for an attack. Sometimes the bad germs win and we go down in hopeless defeat.

The “balance” of nature is a dynamic, ever-changing balance. As the 21st Century begins, the balance of cultures, societies, and nations is tilting dangerously. To use Tierno’s term, the threat is pandemic. Some us, perhaps many of us will go down before the tensions can be balanced. We’ve known dark ages before. Sometimes centuries have to pass.

Wash your hands, be aware, and try to be good to a stranger.