"Jerome’s [late 4th century] own character was notoriously difficult. . . . . It amuses me greatly to envision Jerome, of all people, shining like a star, and hating every minute of it. As we’re leaving the church, I mention this to one of the monks. ‘Ah, poor Jerome,’ he said, ‘forced to smile and sing for all of eternity. Maybe that’s his punishment’.’‘
--Kathleen Norris
Would heaven be hell if John Piper and Clark Pinnock found they were together for all eternity, or Paige Patterson and Art Allen? How many Christians are there who have no real interest in developing the whole range of Christian virtues or reaping the fruit of the Spirit? We want the forgiveness of sin and the acceptance of God; more to the point, we want to avoid hell, and perhaps, get to go to heaven.
We may even want to become a serious Christian to a degree, on certain points, but might genuinely cringe at even the thought of actually allowing the Spirit to rule and reshape every dimension of our thoughts, feelings, decisions, and actions.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Monday, January 29, 2007
Raw Sewage
[Speaking on why she doesn’t let "the one-eyed monster in her house"] "Having a sieve up on the roof collecting wild beams from everywhere does seem poetic, but the image that strikes me as more realistic is that of a faucet into the house that runs about 5 percent clear water and 95 percent raw sewage."
--Barbara Kingsolver
Except for the weather channel, I stopped watching television near about twenty years ago. It didn’t matter what you view–and hear–it numbs the mind and agitates the nerves. I found that I could not go to sleep for a few hours after tv. It took that long for my nerves to calm. Also, it was almost all pointless.
But my main reason for eliminating the "boob" tube from my life was that it was robbing my life. We have a limited amount of time in which to live, why give time to watching the imaginary life of others rather than spending that time living my own life? I quit because I didn’t have time/life to waste. I certainly would never watch it, or do anything just "to kill time."
"If you can fill the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds of distance run. . ."
From what I read about the developments on tv over this past twenty years (confirmed by what I have seen in passing on the omnipresent and unavoidable screens) I can’t help but wonder why intelligent and responsible people not only allow raw sewage, much less pipe it into their homes, but also what kind of soap they use to wash the stuff off.
I’m with Kingsolver when she says, "To me, that ubiquitous cable looks an awful lot like the snake that batted its eyes at Eve." There are better things to do than be deceived and taken in my those eyes.
--Barbara Kingsolver
Except for the weather channel, I stopped watching television near about twenty years ago. It didn’t matter what you view–and hear–it numbs the mind and agitates the nerves. I found that I could not go to sleep for a few hours after tv. It took that long for my nerves to calm. Also, it was almost all pointless.
But my main reason for eliminating the "boob" tube from my life was that it was robbing my life. We have a limited amount of time in which to live, why give time to watching the imaginary life of others rather than spending that time living my own life? I quit because I didn’t have time/life to waste. I certainly would never watch it, or do anything just "to kill time."
"If you can fill the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds of distance run. . ."
From what I read about the developments on tv over this past twenty years (confirmed by what I have seen in passing on the omnipresent and unavoidable screens) I can’t help but wonder why intelligent and responsible people not only allow raw sewage, much less pipe it into their homes, but also what kind of soap they use to wash the stuff off.
I’m with Kingsolver when she says, "To me, that ubiquitous cable looks an awful lot like the snake that batted its eyes at Eve." There are better things to do than be deceived and taken in my those eyes.
Tuesday, January 9, 2007
Ostensibly Christian
[In a California radio interview with Kathleen Norris, on Pacifica radio] "‘Do you consider yourself a Christian?’ my host asked. I sighed and said, ‘My problem with that is that so many people who publicly identify themselves as Christians are such jerks about it.’"
--Kathleen Norris
I have yet to see a t-shirt sporting the Jesus’ words according to Matthew 6:1, "Beware of practicing your righteousness before men to be noticed by them; otherwise you have no reward with your Father who is in heaven."
--Kathleen Norris
I cringe when I see these jerks with simplistically "Christian" messages on their t-shirts and bumper stickers or when I see them praying over their food in restaurants. I don’t label as jerks everyone who follows these practices; many are not. Many are sincere and unthinking Christians.
I have yet to see a t-shirt sporting the Jesus’ words according to Matthew 6:1, "Beware of practicing your righteousness before men to be noticed by them; otherwise you have no reward with your Father who is in heaven."
One reason ostensible Christian testimony bothers me is that often I know these people. I know that much of their daily practice--speech, attitude, action--is contrary to clear biblical guidelines. If I were not a Christian, if I were not already "born again", neither they nor their message would attract the least of my interest. Like everyone else I would find myself paying more to the person than to what they were advertizing.
The same holds for so many of the cute "Christian" messages that show up on the marquis in front of churches. They make some of the insiders feel good, but to the outside passerby they may look either innocuous or offensive. Nearly always they see them as childish.
I've lost my source, but somewhere Doris Betts wrote, "Christian spoils into a rancid adjective."
Monday, January 8, 2007
U. S. President Starts a War
"'...the blood of this war, like the blood of Abel, is crying to Heaven against him [the President]."
. . . .
". . . must have begun the war motivated by a desire for "military glory"--that attractive rainbow, that rises in showers of blood--that serpent's eye, that charms to destroy.' When that aim failed, his mind, "taxed beyond its power," began "running hither and thither, like an ant on a hot stove," and this "bewildered, confounded, and miserable man " could only speak in "the half insane mumbling of a fever-dream."
[Abraham Lincoln, speaking of President James K. Polk]
--David Herbert Donald
The mind moves easily, almost naturally, to think this speaks to another president, long after Polk. It might seem to refer, not to the U. S. invasion that initiated the Mexican war, but a later U. S. invasion that started another ill-begotten war.
Lincoln still speaks, even in the 21st Century.
Although he was labeled "unpatriotic," and a "traitor," and was accused of treason and speaking from political motivation, he nonetheless supported sending supplies and support to the troops, who were in this through no fault of their own.
. . . .
". . . must have begun the war motivated by a desire for "military glory"--that attractive rainbow, that rises in showers of blood--that serpent's eye, that charms to destroy.' When that aim failed, his mind, "taxed beyond its power," began "running hither and thither, like an ant on a hot stove," and this "bewildered, confounded, and miserable man " could only speak in "the half insane mumbling of a fever-dream."
[Abraham Lincoln, speaking of President James K. Polk]
--David Herbert Donald
The mind moves easily, almost naturally, to think this speaks to another president, long after Polk. It might seem to refer, not to the U. S. invasion that initiated the Mexican war, but a later U. S. invasion that started another ill-begotten war.
Lincoln still speaks, even in the 21st Century.
Although he was labeled "unpatriotic," and a "traitor," and was accused of treason and speaking from political motivation, he nonetheless supported sending supplies and support to the troops, who were in this through no fault of their own.
Thursday, December 28, 2006
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
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 visit 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.
–Kathleen Norris
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 visit 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.
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Not What But How
"A movie is not what it is about. It is about how it is about." --Roger Ebert
We walked into the church house--building complex--in Seoul, South Korea and were ushered to a balcony pew. A membership of several hundred thousand made this the largest church in the world. I estimated ten thousand worshipers filling the sanctuary in this one service.
We were early. On a raised platform in the main auditorium, I saw a large orchestra: in the strings section I counted six cellos. After the service, we were taken to the church cafeteria, the largest I’ve ever seen. We didn’t go to the bookstore.
When we had first been ushered in for the main service, I noticed a set of headphones hanging on the back of the pew in front of me. On the control knob, by a turn of the dial, we could choose among five or six languages. The service was conducted, of course, in the Korean language, but translators provided audio access to Chinese, Japanese, English, German, Spanish, or French. They sang the same hymns we had sung in Oklahoma churches in the 1930s and 1940s.
So far, so good. It felt good to worship with this many fellow Christians. Then, however, the preacher began. In a meanspirited tone of voice, he ranted a harsh fundamentalist sermon. As Roger Ebert noted about movies, he sermon was not what it was about, it was about how it was about. Somewhere, I had once read: "When the truth is told in a hateful manner, it is no longer the truth." As I left, I was confident the church had not grown to such enormous size based on this man’s preaching.
A few days later, we flew to Taipei, Taiwan. As our bus neared the Fortuna Hotel, where we would stay for a week or two, I noticed a small Baptist church, just three blocks from the hotel. Saturday I walked to the church house, found the door open, and walked in. I’ve been in church since I was a one-year-old, so I was quite comfortable walking in. Two secretaries were at work in the office.
Before we came to Taiwan I had been told that many Taiwanese were conversant in English, so I asked the ladies what time the Sunday morning service would take place. It quickly became apparent that these church workers were not among the "conversant in English" numbers.
On the wall I saw a clock, and on the desk, a calendar. An idea came do me. I walked over and pointed to the date of Sunday, the next day, then stepped to the desk and pointed at the clock. It took about three repetitions of my gestural question before one of them caught on. She smiled, wrote a note, and graciously handed it to me. I looked at the note. It read: 10:00.
The previous Sunday in the largest church in the world, I had heard it all in my own language; for me, the sermon had killed the service. The little Baptist church in Taipei had about sixty in attendance. As I came in, and then as others came in, everyone greeted me with a warm smile. Several extended their hand for me to take.
The service was entirely in Mandarin. I understood not a word, but I knew the music, so I joined their singing from a Baptist Hymnal, published in Nashville and translated into Mandarin Chinese. I knew I was at home. We were part of the same family, at worship. The white-headed pastor began his sermon with a warm smile and a loving tone of voice. I don’t know a thing he said, but his smile and loving tone and expression was mirrored in the people’s faces.
I left, knowing I had been in the presence of God and God’s people.
A sermon is not what it is about. It is about how it is about.
We walked into the church house--building complex--in Seoul, South Korea and were ushered to a balcony pew. A membership of several hundred thousand made this the largest church in the world. I estimated ten thousand worshipers filling the sanctuary in this one service.
We were early. On a raised platform in the main auditorium, I saw a large orchestra: in the strings section I counted six cellos. After the service, we were taken to the church cafeteria, the largest I’ve ever seen. We didn’t go to the bookstore.
When we had first been ushered in for the main service, I noticed a set of headphones hanging on the back of the pew in front of me. On the control knob, by a turn of the dial, we could choose among five or six languages. The service was conducted, of course, in the Korean language, but translators provided audio access to Chinese, Japanese, English, German, Spanish, or French. They sang the same hymns we had sung in Oklahoma churches in the 1930s and 1940s.
So far, so good. It felt good to worship with this many fellow Christians. Then, however, the preacher began. In a meanspirited tone of voice, he ranted a harsh fundamentalist sermon. As Roger Ebert noted about movies, he sermon was not what it was about, it was about how it was about. Somewhere, I had once read: "When the truth is told in a hateful manner, it is no longer the truth." As I left, I was confident the church had not grown to such enormous size based on this man’s preaching.
A few days later, we flew to Taipei, Taiwan. As our bus neared the Fortuna Hotel, where we would stay for a week or two, I noticed a small Baptist church, just three blocks from the hotel. Saturday I walked to the church house, found the door open, and walked in. I’ve been in church since I was a one-year-old, so I was quite comfortable walking in. Two secretaries were at work in the office.
Before we came to Taiwan I had been told that many Taiwanese were conversant in English, so I asked the ladies what time the Sunday morning service would take place. It quickly became apparent that these church workers were not among the "conversant in English" numbers.
On the wall I saw a clock, and on the desk, a calendar. An idea came do me. I walked over and pointed to the date of Sunday, the next day, then stepped to the desk and pointed at the clock. It took about three repetitions of my gestural question before one of them caught on. She smiled, wrote a note, and graciously handed it to me. I looked at the note. It read: 10:00.
The previous Sunday in the largest church in the world, I had heard it all in my own language; for me, the sermon had killed the service. The little Baptist church in Taipei had about sixty in attendance. As I came in, and then as others came in, everyone greeted me with a warm smile. Several extended their hand for me to take.
The service was entirely in Mandarin. I understood not a word, but I knew the music, so I joined their singing from a Baptist Hymnal, published in Nashville and translated into Mandarin Chinese. I knew I was at home. We were part of the same family, at worship. The white-headed pastor began his sermon with a warm smile and a loving tone of voice. I don’t know a thing he said, but his smile and loving tone and expression was mirrored in the people’s faces.
I left, knowing I had been in the presence of God and God’s people.
A sermon is not what it is about. It is about how it is about.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Does the Mirror Lie?
"A very beautiful woman who looks at her reflection in the mirror can very well believe that she is that. An ugly woman knows she is not that.”
--Simone Weil
For more than forty years I have been observing what, for long, I considered an oddity: good-looking and intelligent married to a spouse who, if not ugly, certainly was near the border of that territory. But for the last thirty years, I have begun observing these relationships, but also the ugly-ugly and the beautiful-handsome marriages and also the individual spouses.
I remember only one or two instances when the handsome and intelligent man divorced the wife because they found they couldn't live with that ugly exterior around them and associated with them by society.
On the other hand, I've spent enough time in enough homes that were good-looking/ugly, to come to appreciate what Simone Weil says about the ugly woman before the mirror. She knows that the exterior surface does not show who she really is. I, with a very happy marriage of fifty-some years, have fallen in love--almost--with several "ugly" women who had almost everything except looks.
So for the last twenty years I have recommended to young people that they consider who their intended is, rather than what they look like. I don't know whether any of those of tender years and narrow interests have paid much attention to my suggestion.
I have become leary of beautiful women in general. Their beauty too often becomes cold and hard, their eyes and mouth contradicting their conventional wisdom beauty.
Exceptions to all of this? Yes. I know some of them well. But they are exceptions.
--Simone Weil
For more than forty years I have been observing what, for long, I considered an oddity: good-looking and intelligent married to a spouse who, if not ugly, certainly was near the border of that territory. But for the last thirty years, I have begun observing these relationships, but also the ugly-ugly and the beautiful-handsome marriages and also the individual spouses.
I remember only one or two instances when the handsome and intelligent man divorced the wife because they found they couldn't live with that ugly exterior around them and associated with them by society.
On the other hand, I've spent enough time in enough homes that were good-looking/ugly, to come to appreciate what Simone Weil says about the ugly woman before the mirror. She knows that the exterior surface does not show who she really is. I, with a very happy marriage of fifty-some years, have fallen in love--almost--with several "ugly" women who had almost everything except looks.
So for the last twenty years I have recommended to young people that they consider who their intended is, rather than what they look like. I don't know whether any of those of tender years and narrow interests have paid much attention to my suggestion.
I have become leary of beautiful women in general. Their beauty too often becomes cold and hard, their eyes and mouth contradicting their conventional wisdom beauty.
Exceptions to all of this? Yes. I know some of them well. But they are exceptions.
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