No, this isn’t some long-lost gnostic gospel promulgating the Jesus Dynasty; rather it’s a whimsically imaginative song by one of my new favorite bands, Cloud Cult. Reflect…and enjoy:
Today is a good day to flex the muscles of the weary
a miracle’s a miracle even when it’s ordinary
we walk on the water even though it seems scary
if someone will show us the way
I shook hands with the man who honestly thinks he’s
the grandson of Jesus with the penchant for pinchies
he served us communion of cola and twinkies
guess everyone has their own view
He stood on his soap box and told us a parable
of a man with eyeglasses so small they’re unwearable
and the moral of the story is it all looks terrible
depending on what you look through, on what you look through
He said “Do unto yourself as you do unto your neighbor
it’s not an eye for an eye, it’s a favor for a favor
and it’s okay if this world had a billion saviors
’cause there’s so many things to be saved
“Take my words with a boulder of salt
or blame it on your devil
always the scapegoats fault
we all point fingers when it comes to a halt
can somebody show us the way, show us the way…
Hello all you lovers in the blogosphere! Augustine (or was it John Caputo?) once famously probed: “What do I love when I love my God?” And Tom Oord in his Nature of Love: A Theology begins to take seriously, perhaps for the first time in contemporary theology, ‘God IS Love’ as a starting point for theology, spirituality, and practice. I think his project is exciting (you should really check out the book if you haven’t already), and if it resonates, it begs the question: Who do I love? What is love? And how can we explore/express these questions together trans-rationally, devotionally, ecstatically, in song?
Well, if these are questions that matter to you, I’ve got your mystical poetry for absorption into the One this morning. This is Love is Love, coming from post-hardcore band Lungfish‘s visionary, wheel-within-a-wheel frontman, Daniel Higgs. The version that so resonates with me – and with Trinity’s Place, my faith community in Raleigh – is actually a cover by Tortoise, when they collaborated with Bonnie “Prince” Billy.
I use this song frequently – working out on the ROM, and as a prelude to prayer or contemplation. Here it is:
The lyrics are anybody’s guess. Here’s mine:
Love is love in the shape things take
Love is love in the womb of wombs (wound of wounds)
Love is love at the highest height
Love is love at the deepest depth all right
Love is love as the risen rise (as the risen Christ)
Love is love in the sight of creation
Love is love in patterns of light
Love is love at the root of the grave
Love is love in the life of all life
Love is love in echoes through space
Love is love a vigil for this world (a vision for this world)
Love is love in the marrow of new bones
Love is love as above so below
Love is love in the record of events
Love must be love to let time begin
Love is love always reconciled
Love is love in the wind and shade
Love is love – alien and strange
Love is love in truth and falsehood
And, for your added enjoyment, here’s the original Lungfish version. Enjoy!
Just over a year ago, I raised the question – Walter Brueggemann‘s question, actually – “Is God ‘A Recovering Practitioner of Violence’?” It was a provocative question he raised in Atlanta during one of the original Emergent Village theological conversations. The esteemed Old Testament scholar was raising questions about our neat & tidy ways of trying to sweep God’s messy history under the rug; his concern was that many who profess the loudest to be “Bible-believers” are least familiar with its contents. He was not calling the faithful to abandon the witness of Scripture, contra an Ehrman or Spong; rather, he was suggesting we embrace Holy Writ with all its pain. (And if you read the text, there is pain.)
This original post stirred a lot of thoughtful commentary, as well as some rabid denunciation among some Christian fiction writers (of all folks) – earning me my own TAG at Rebecca Miller’s blog, where as far as I know they’re still praying for my wayward soul. 🙂
Today a thoughtful blog reader named Mark chimed in with a question of his own:
Hey everybody, I know I’m reading this a year after the fact so maybe nobody will see this. But if so, I’ve just got a question or two.
I listened to the Brueggemann talks a couple of years ago. He’s one of my favorite authors/speakers. However, the more I’ve thought about his ‘God as a recovering practitioner of violence’, the more I’ve been disturbed (I guess that was his purpose, so that’s fine). I’m o.k. with being disturbed.
The main thing I’m wanting to ask everybody who was posting here toward the end is do you pray? If so, what do you say to a God who may be capricious, violent, arbitrary, etc.? What do you say, good and bad?
The other comment I have is that I just finished reading N.T. Wright’sNTPG, JVG, and RSG books. Actually, as he says, ‘as a matter of history’ it does seem to be highly likely that Jesus of Nazareth was bodily raised from the dead. For me, this means atheism is not a viable option. How does everyone feel about this? Have you read these books?
Also, I ask many of these tough questions that you are asking very regularly but also wonder what moral high ground I can stand on to put God on trial. Is this reasonable?
Thanks for the discussion!
Mark’s is an excellent question that really brings things home: How, and to whom, do we pray (if we pray)? I think that all of us, regardless of what we’ve argued about in the original post, want to say we’re praying to an unambiguously good God. Even Walter B. would probably affirm this. Now, I think that questioning God’s goodness is one of the deepest struggles of faith for many of us, especially in contemporary times – I mean, theodicy is a b!tc#, right?
What many of us simply cannot go back to is what I call the Juggling Trapeze Artist version of God; this is where we juggle all of these conflicting biblical and experiential portraits of God, swinging from one pendulum to the other, desperately trying to make them form one coherent portrait. No – if we’re to be people of the book, we need more honesty and integrity than this – rightly dividing the word of truth, or what have you.
In my experience, most people who have a mature, stable, first-hand relationship with God know instinctively that God is good. This often comes in spite of, not because of, the theology they’re taught in church, on television, or the radio. But if we’ve settled God’s goodness in our hearts, it seems to me that there are several options out there to settle this in our heads:
1.) What Brueggemann and others (notably Jack Miles) seem to be advocating for, at least here: An evolutionary understanding of God. God develops, God grows, God changes. This idea is at the heart of the debate between Greco-Roman Theism and Open (or Process) theology – too much to hash through here. Suffice it to say for these considerations, just because God may have ordered genocide at one point in time (as the text says he did) and prohibits even ethnic judgement at a future time (as Jesus seems to in the later text), one can say that God grows without implying that earlier stages of development were sinful – for God or humanity. To put it another way: Sin, like Covenant, is not a static absolute, but rather a moving target based on increasing spheres of empathy and maturity.
2.) Another angle to come at this would be to posit a changeless God who nonetheless accommodated himself to immature-but-developing cultural mores. This is difficult to apply in actual practice – when in the text God insists that people wipe out women and children, or (perhaps more disturbing) to save virgins for mating…really? But one can do some comparative analysis with nearby cultures and conclude that God is gradually pushing his chosen people out of the nest of violent ethnocentrism by fully entering into & communicating from that world. Hence John Calvin wrote that ‘crude’ images of God are “often ascribed to him in Scripture, are easily refuted. For who is so devoid of intellect as not to understand that God, in so speaking, lisps with us as nurses are wont to do with little children? Such modes of expression, therefore, do not so much express what kind of a being God is, as accommodate the knowledge of him to our feebleness. In doing so, he must, of course, stoop far below his proper height.”
3.) A variation on this theme would be to apply the apostle Paul’s “we see in part, we prophesy in part” to the writings of Scripture itself. When looking for traces of God’s presence and speaking in our lives, “we see through a glass darkly” – a glass colored by our history, culture, and indeed prejudices. So the children of Israel and various biblical redactors ‘heard’ God say some atrocious things that God could not have said if we is the Father of Jesus Christ who loves indiscrimately and forgives enemies. One can in this way read Scripture as a conversation – yea, an argument – with itself over which interpretation of God will prevail: a vision of God-as-power that serves the interests of the already-powerful, or God-as-Love who empties himself and serves the lowly? (Brian McLaren develops this Scripture-as-conversation perspective in his A New Kind of Christianity. This view is appealing in that it posits an all-good, changeless God and let’s God off the hook for any of the unsavory stuff we see in the Old Testament – and presumably, the New as well. But then, critics will assert, Where does this stop? Do we simply edit out everything that makes us uncomfortable? Does this make us better than 21st century Marcionites? But proponents of this perspective would be quick to suggest a New Covenant hermenutic, starting with Jesus’ own “Moses said to you _____, but I say to you…”
So there we have it. Either 1.) God changes for God’s sake, 2.) God changes for humanity’s sake, or 3.) God is changeless but humanity is increasingly adept at apprehending a fuller revelation of God’s character. To me any of these visions can be held with integrity, and would result in a good God worthy of trust and worship.
What strikes me, further, is that all of these are valid options, and that all of these are problematic. I think as the Church we ought not micro-manage people’s opinions about these different ways of processing the goodness and character of God; rather, we should be places that can hold all of these images of God in abeyance, as we worship and pray together.
Recommended Reading (covering the gamut of these perspectives):
I met Ken Howard at a party at my house last month – a Big Tent Christianity kegger wherein we raised funds to put a Raleigh homeless couple into a home. There were like 100 people here (at least it felt that way!) but we hit it off despite the din. Ken’s a priest in Maryland; he wrote a book that I’d already begun to hear good things about. He asked me to participate in a blog tour & I said “sure!” I haven’t been disappointed.
Ken Howard’s Paradoxy: Creating Christian Community Beyond Us and Them opens up with a premise strikingly similar to Jim Belcher’s Deep Church: A Third Way Beyond Emerging and Traditional (see? Even the titles sound similar): The Church is being torn apart by dissonant voices; we need to move forward in a creative ‘third way’ direction that honors our deepest values while laying aside our addiction to our niche. Beyond this starting point, however, the two books diverge pretty significantly. While Belcher (to some people’s acclaim, and others’ disdain) desired to create a ‘mere Christianity’ essentialist orthodoxy that nods toward emergence while drawing out the best of his PCA Presbyterian tradition, Howard attempts to craft three ideologically-neutral terms to re-frame old verities and serve as self-identifiers of where you are as an individual and congregation:
The conservative way we will call Doctrinal-Propositional Orthodoxy or Orthoproxy
The liberal way we will call Ethical-Practical Orthodoxy or Orthopraxy
The emerging middle way we will call Incarnational-Relational Orthodoxy or Paradoxy
In chapter 8, my stop along the tour, we’re looking at where particular faith commuities fall along this spectrum. It’s here that Ken offers a 14-question congregational self-inventory. Here are two samples:
Which statement best describes your church’s view of religion?
a. Ultimate truth is found in one religion (Christianity is the only way).
b. Deepest truth is shared by all religions (Christianity is the only way for me).
c. Religion is irrelevant for following Christ (Christ is the way, the truth, and the life).
Which statement best describes your church’s understanding of the process of including newcomers?
a. First conversion, then fellowship.
b. First full fellowship, then fellowship catalyzes transformation.
c. Community offered with few conditions, then the inner faith experience leads to the person’s change of heart.
Curious how your responses to these questions place you along the Orthoproxy-Orthopraxy-Paradoxy continuum? I was – and the answers surprised me. Paradoxy is a book that conservatives and progressives can read together with mind and heart, grappling with issues of pluralism and inclusion on the one hand and the integrity of our faith and conviction on the other hand. It’s an excellent meditation on our quest for a generous orthodoxy that is, indeed, both generous and orthodox. I recommend it.
Spencer Burke and Brian McLaren wrap up their ground-breaking interview series on A New Kind of Christianity – Where do new kinds of Christians go to manifest their inspiration into action? How do we treat those who don’t see the same things we see? Get the show notes and see the interview series in its entirety here.
So this one is sure to raise some ambivalence – but no one processing religion, faith, and spirituality in a post* world can afford to ignore Matthew Fox – tempestuous, flamboyant, inventive; priest, artist, liturgist and theologian. The defrocked Catholic-turned-Episcopal priest was (with the unlikely influence-pairing of Vineyard revitalizer John Wimber) responsible for inspiring what was arguably the first ever emerging/postmodern congregation in the mid-1980s – the brilliant, controversial, combustible Nine O’ Clock Service. Inspired by a Wimber prophecy at St. Thom‘s in Sheffield and nurtured by Fox’s Creation Spirituality amongst working-class rave culture, the NOS was a potpourri of influences and expression.
I’m no musician, but I think a lot about worship-in-song. As I’vecommentedsomebefore, I want to see worship become increasingly wise and transformative, with everything from lyrics to tone aiding in the development and formation of the worshiper. (More about this in a post soon – probably something about ‘integral worship.’) This doesn’t always mean aping the past (as Kevin Beck so succinctly argues), but I am a ‘conservative’ in that I think the past offers us many rich treasures, treasures that can provide a welcome relief, at times, from the cacophony of the present. It is with this in mind that I approached The Odes Project, a double-album of contemporary worship arrangements based on “the oldest Christian hymnal,” the second-century Odes of Solomon.
The Odes Project bills itself as an adaptation of
…the Odes of Solomon for use in worship today, bringing the past to the present. It is hoped that by doing so, a greater understanding of the nature and function of Christian hymns will be understood by Christian artists who are learning the principles and practices of Christian worship.
Two Christian Music pioneers, Dr. Chuck Fromm and John Andrew Schreiner joined together to create this project, sharing a calling to serve Christian worship communities with “new song.” Both are lifelong students of worship and music, and as they joined their talents together, they resolved to make these ancient songs of faith accessible in the present tense. Fromm is a visionary and publisher in the service of worship. He connected with the Odes of Solomon while studying the worship of the early 1970’s worship music and preparing to write his dissertation. The worship history scholar Hughes Oliphant Old, a regular columnist in Worship Leader magazine, pointed out the connection between the Odes and the wisdom doxology of praise. Fromm related the singing and teaching to his own experience of the Jesus Movement of the early 70s. John Schreiner is a noted musician, composer and worship leader/pastor and has dedicated his life to the service of the Word through music.
The album is very easy to listen to – it’s a tasteful arrangement of 32 of the 42 Odes. I could see singing many of these in a congregation; the lyrics are great – as you can imagine, they’re very theocentric. Take this song, adapted from Ode 12, for instance:
He filled me with his truth
So I sing of His beauty
He came to dwell with me
So that I reflect His light
He poured out his love on me
So I can show mercy
He gave me the truth of his Word
So I share his love
Come and Flow living waters
Flow through me
That I might serve You
Flow living waters
Flow through me
That I might serve you
Overflowing, overflowing to those who thirst.
Inexpressible
Before the dawning of His light
His eternal Word
His mind and his thought
Unsearchable
Yet your Word dwells with me
And Your truth is love, One to another
I will sing of Your beauty, Your glory, Your purpose, Your ways
Blessed are they who know him
Blessed are they who love
Blessed are they who know him
Blessed are they who love
One to another, One to another, One to another
The only thing I’d change, musically, for congregational singing is that I might arrange the music to sound a little more ancient, ambient, and/or a capella. As they stand now, they’re rather ‘Maranatha‘ in style, which isn’t exactly my bag – but it makes sense, seeing as that is the background of the composer.
One last word: I’ve corresponded some with the creators and really appreciate their vision to bring the Odes of Solomon to life. But it’s ironic to me that this very evangelical crew is helping popularize a work that many scholars consider Gnostic in origin. As its Wikipedia entry notes, the Odes
perhaps originated from a heretical or gnostic group. This can be seen in the extensive use of the word ‘knowledge’ (Syr. ܝܕܥܬܐ īḏa‘tâ; Gk. γνωσις gnōsis), the slight suggestion that the Saviour needed saving in Ode 8:21c (ܘܦ̈ܖܝܩܐ ܒܗܘ ܕܐܬܦܪܩ wafrîqê ḇ-haw d’eṯpreq — ‘and the saved (are) in him who was saved’) and the image of the Father having breasts that are milked by the Holy Spirit to bring about the incarnation of Christ.
It’s quick to note, however, that
In the case of ‘knowledge’, it is always a reference to God’s gift of his self-revelation, and, as the Odes are replete with enjoyment in God’s good creation, they seem at odds with the gnostic concept of knowledge providing the means of release from the imperfect world. A number of scholars, considering the links with gnosticism have been overworked, now see the Odes as gnosistic at most.
You know, like the Gospel of John. At most, this might be the reason why some Odes were rendered for this project and some were not.
There are other things that are intriguing to me about the Odes, including its prototypical Trinitarian doxology in Ode 23, which the composers render explicit throughout the album; I wish they would have done the same with the rich feminine and nursing imagery of God – but perhaps this is something Isaac Everett or the liturgists at St Gregory’s in San Francisco can take on?
All in all, I’d recommend The Odes Project. It’s an excellent model of what good ancient-future worship can look like.
This week I’m going to review a couple of recent offerings – one an album and one a book – that could be seen as a continuation of the ancient-future faith revival sparked by Robert Webber a decade or so ago that is stillgoingstrong. But before I do that, I’m going to call the whole ancient-future enterprise in question! Actually, I’m going to let my friend Kevin Beck do that for me, as a.) I’m a wimp, b.) I’m lazy, and c.) I’m more of a softie for ancient-future expressions than Kev-O. Even so, I find that I need to listen to his gracious but incisive critique – you probably should too. Here’s a taste:
While appreciating centuries of tradition is important, the attempt to reinstitute them is misguided and can result in unintentional authoritarianism. We’re not medievals. Pulling forward medieval tradions is nt a sacred way into the heart of God. Trying to recapture the thirteenth century is certainly not an emergence.
Seth: You have such vivid Christian imagery in many of your songs, and much of it is contrasted with the selfishness of the “modern” individual. I was wondering what’s your take on the state of Christianity today?
Leonard Cohen: Dear Seth, I don’t really have a ‘take on the state of Christianity.’ But when I read your question, this answer came to mind: As I understand it, into the heart of every Christian, Christ comes, and Christ goes. When, by his Grace, the landscape of the heart becomes vast and deep and limitless, then Christ makes His abode in that graceful heart, and His Will prevails. The experience is recognized as Peace. In the absence of this experience much activity arises, divisions of every sort. Outside of the organizational enterprise, which some applaud and some mistrust, stands the figure of Jesus, nailed to a human predicament, summoning the heart to comprehend its own suffering by dissolving itself in a radical confession of hospitality.
zoecarnate 
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