Tara asks:
hey Amy, here's the usual seminary trick question, inspired by the Maundy Thursday service today: Why is foot-washing not a sacrament like communion or baptism?
A very good question--I was wondering that myself. It seems that footwashing is not a sacrament at least partly because of the obvious issues--it's very personal, is logistically complicated, and is not always aesthetically pleasing. However, it used to be that the Mennonites, Amish, and other Anabaptists did practice footwashing as part of the communion service.
There were some retired Church of the Brethren pastors at my footwashing service (a friend refers to them as "left-wing Amish") and they told about how when they were young everyone would gather from around the countryside on Easter weekend for the Love Feast, which was communion and wine and lots of other food, and also included footwashing. Communion took place, however, only once or twice a year--Maundy Thursday and World Communion Sunday. The change to just bread and wine was gradual, but some people still refer to it as "Bread and Cup Communion" as opposed to the full service.
Aside from the aesthetic and logistical problems with footwashing, I'd say there are at least four other reasons that it did not become a Christian sacrament:
First, the situation in which it is originally used is fairly specific to people who wear sandals all the time and who expected to have their feet washed as part of a formal banquet. This doesn't translate well to cultures where people don't customarily wash feet.
Second, while the custom of drinking blessed wine and bread was a longstanding religious ritual in ancient Israel, footwashing did not carry with it a similar symbolic weight of connection to Passover or any other Israelite tradition.
Third, footwashing was not as widespread as communion among the early Christians--it is only described in John, and so the communities from which the gospels of Mark, Matthew and Luke came were not practicing this ritual from the very beginning, making it all the more unlikely that it would later become a sacrament.
Finally, John uses Jesus' act of footwashing as a prefiguring of and symbol for his death on the cross. It's not clear from the story whether when Jesus says "also wash each other's feet" that he means it literally or symbolically.
I will say, though, that footwashing is an excellent ceremony for occasional use--it is a good way to experience in powerful ritual the call to service that Jesus makes on Maundy Thursday.
Friday, March 25, 2005
Terri Schiavo's soul
Tara asks:
"Moreover, her parents say, depriving Schiavo of nutrition and water is something that she as a Catholic would object to. 'We are now in a position where a court has ordered her to disobey her church and even to jeopardize her immortal soul,' said the parents' attorney Gibbs." I know you're no Catholic scholar, but please explain to me how this last sentence has any theological truth to it. The idea that God would punish her is.....appalling, to say the least.
From what I understand, the basic premise of the lawyer's statement is that if Terri were to voluntarily end her own life by choosing to have her feeding tube removed, that would be an act of suicide. Because suicide means killing a living being--yourself--it is considered in Catholic theology mortal sin, and because you can't repent of it before you die, you will have that sin on your soul when you come before God for judgement. I'm not sure if they still believe in Purgatory, but the idea there was that your leftover sins would be purged from you through painful torture until you're purified of them. The trick, really, is to confess and repent all your sins right before you die so you won't have to burn them off in purgatory. :-) And, the bigger the sins, the longer it takes to get rid of them. Once they're gone, though, you get to go to heaven. Mortal sins, however, cause immediate damnation if they're not repented of, and suicide is one of them. (Incidentally, so is missing Mass on Sunday)
Some things that don't make sense about the lawyer's assessment of Catholic doctrine:
1. Terri won't actually be the one making the decision to end her life, so she wouldn't be guilty of suicide.
2. She's had communion several times according to one article I was reading. (It was about someone complaining that he couldn't put food in her mouth because it's a choking hazard, but who had been giving her "spiritual" communion for many years) This suggests that she is in a state of grace.
I think where I ultimately disagree with the official Catholic view of this situation is in its assertion that committing suicide is a sin that causes damnation. God can choose to forgive anything, and while suicide suggests a deeply damaged relationship with God, it doesn't mean that God has stopped loving a person, or that the person has completely forsaken God. To my mind, suicide is more tragedy than sin. Similarly, the death of Terri Schiavo's body is more the final tragedy in a series of tragedies than it is a sin of any type.
"Moreover, her parents say, depriving Schiavo of nutrition and water is something that she as a Catholic would object to. 'We are now in a position where a court has ordered her to disobey her church and even to jeopardize her immortal soul,' said the parents' attorney Gibbs." I know you're no Catholic scholar, but please explain to me how this last sentence has any theological truth to it. The idea that God would punish her is.....appalling, to say the least.
From what I understand, the basic premise of the lawyer's statement is that if Terri were to voluntarily end her own life by choosing to have her feeding tube removed, that would be an act of suicide. Because suicide means killing a living being--yourself--it is considered in Catholic theology mortal sin, and because you can't repent of it before you die, you will have that sin on your soul when you come before God for judgement. I'm not sure if they still believe in Purgatory, but the idea there was that your leftover sins would be purged from you through painful torture until you're purified of them. The trick, really, is to confess and repent all your sins right before you die so you won't have to burn them off in purgatory. :-) And, the bigger the sins, the longer it takes to get rid of them. Once they're gone, though, you get to go to heaven. Mortal sins, however, cause immediate damnation if they're not repented of, and suicide is one of them. (Incidentally, so is missing Mass on Sunday)
Some things that don't make sense about the lawyer's assessment of Catholic doctrine:
1. Terri won't actually be the one making the decision to end her life, so she wouldn't be guilty of suicide.
2. She's had communion several times according to one article I was reading. (It was about someone complaining that he couldn't put food in her mouth because it's a choking hazard, but who had been giving her "spiritual" communion for many years) This suggests that she is in a state of grace.
I think where I ultimately disagree with the official Catholic view of this situation is in its assertion that committing suicide is a sin that causes damnation. God can choose to forgive anything, and while suicide suggests a deeply damaged relationship with God, it doesn't mean that God has stopped loving a person, or that the person has completely forsaken God. To my mind, suicide is more tragedy than sin. Similarly, the death of Terri Schiavo's body is more the final tragedy in a series of tragedies than it is a sin of any type.
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
Grieving
Shannon asks:
"a friend and i were talking the other night about how both of us had very christian grandfathers die and grieving was really frowned upon during the service. it was all, they're in heaven now, etc. and so it made me think is this is evangelical protestant thing to frown on grief and other emotions in general (esp. negative emotions like depression, anger, etc) or is this a thing of church history through the ages? if so, where did that come from? i know the verse that says "we do not mourn like those who have no hope," but there needs to be an adequate place for grief. so just wondering your thoughts on that matter."
Shannon, I might go more along the lines of the "evangelical protestant thing to frown on grief and other emotions in general" in explaining this one. I don't have a lot of background information on other cultures, but I read an interesting book a few years ago about western attitudes toward death in the middle ages, etc. You might be interested to know, for example, that before our modern medicine started taking over the deathbed, when people died they were usually surrounded by their family. They would feel death coming, and would make a speech--their final testament--and then lie there and wait until they died. This isn't always how people died, of course, but if you were fortunate enough to die peacefully, this would usually be the way. Now there is more a distance and mystery around death, I think, as we move away from the land, from nature, and people die more often in hospitals or nursing homes rather than at home.
I know people who say things like "I don't want anybody to mourn for me after I'm gone," and I understand the sentiment--they don't like to be the cause of someone's pain. But on the other hand, that's a little like asking people not to love you or miss you when you're gone. If I had a great friend who moved to the other side of the country for her dream job, I'd be happy for her, but I'd still miss her. The funeral, in other words, and the time of grieving afterwards are for the people left behind, not for the person who has died, so they should be places where people can experience and work through the pain of the loss.
In addition to the impulse to cover up or hide pain, though, I think there's also an attitude that children can't handle loss. I don't know how old you or your friend were when your grandfathers died, but there may have been some of that attempt to shield children which is, in my opinion, usually an attempt by adults to shield themselves from their own emotions.
"a friend and i were talking the other night about how both of us had very christian grandfathers die and grieving was really frowned upon during the service. it was all, they're in heaven now, etc. and so it made me think is this is evangelical protestant thing to frown on grief and other emotions in general (esp. negative emotions like depression, anger, etc) or is this a thing of church history through the ages? if so, where did that come from? i know the verse that says "we do not mourn like those who have no hope," but there needs to be an adequate place for grief. so just wondering your thoughts on that matter."
Shannon, I might go more along the lines of the "evangelical protestant thing to frown on grief and other emotions in general" in explaining this one. I don't have a lot of background information on other cultures, but I read an interesting book a few years ago about western attitudes toward death in the middle ages, etc. You might be interested to know, for example, that before our modern medicine started taking over the deathbed, when people died they were usually surrounded by their family. They would feel death coming, and would make a speech--their final testament--and then lie there and wait until they died. This isn't always how people died, of course, but if you were fortunate enough to die peacefully, this would usually be the way. Now there is more a distance and mystery around death, I think, as we move away from the land, from nature, and people die more often in hospitals or nursing homes rather than at home.
I know people who say things like "I don't want anybody to mourn for me after I'm gone," and I understand the sentiment--they don't like to be the cause of someone's pain. But on the other hand, that's a little like asking people not to love you or miss you when you're gone. If I had a great friend who moved to the other side of the country for her dream job, I'd be happy for her, but I'd still miss her. The funeral, in other words, and the time of grieving afterwards are for the people left behind, not for the person who has died, so they should be places where people can experience and work through the pain of the loss.
In addition to the impulse to cover up or hide pain, though, I think there's also an attitude that children can't handle loss. I don't know how old you or your friend were when your grandfathers died, but there may have been some of that attempt to shield children which is, in my opinion, usually an attempt by adults to shield themselves from their own emotions.
Monday, March 14, 2005
Cheap grace
Duckie reminds me of a question from my other blog:
Isn't that a philosophical failing of the "grace of god," though? If one believes in divine forgiveness, that a god will give a person grace for any action, no matter how repugnant, where is the moral/ethical door that bangs shut before one sins boldly? Christianity sometimes appears to let people off the hook for the consequences of their action (unless you're only reading Old Testament, that is, then there's a whole lotta smiting going on).
Thank you for a very thought-provoking question. I'll start by making a quick distinction: there is a difference between experiencing/accepting the consequences of doing something wrong, and the experience of forgiveness and reconnection with God. For example, just because I've asked for and received forgiveness from God doesn't mean I shouldn't go to jail for stealing a car. Part of the tradition (albeit sometimes under-emphasized) is making right what you have done wrong in some way. Not that that somehow earns the forgiveness, but it is part of the process.
And there is a different limit on forgiveness that I personally find very challenging--that if we expect forgiveness from God, we also need to forgive other people for what they do to us.
But your larger question about the grace of God ultimately reminds me of a story from the Old Testament--the book of Jonah. It starts when God calls Jonah to go and warn the people of Ninevah about the impending divine smackdown. But Jonah doesn't want to go because Ninevah is the conquering oppressor and is a mortal enemy of Israel. The best analogy I can come up with at the moment is if one of Sadaam Hussein's Baathist followers were to start praying for mercy and blessings for Washington, DC.
Jonah gets the call, leaves his house, and starts moving...in the opposite direction from Ninevah. The part of the story you're probably familiar with happens now. Jonah catches a boat to the western end of the world, but God kicks up a huge storm. Jonah admits he's the cause of it, and tells the sailors to throw him overboard, which they do. The storm clears immediately, and Jonah is swallowed by a giant fish of some kind that takes him back east. There he is vomited up on shore in a most dignified manner.
So Jonah goes to Ninevah, walks for a whole day to get into the center of the city, and says one sentence: "God's coming after you for all your sins!" and walks out again to sit on a hill and watch the destruction. The people of Ninevah hear what he says, and they take it to heart. Everyone dresses in repentance clothing: sackcloth and ashes (even the animals) and the lowliest to the highest lie around weeping and fasting and begging God for mercy.
God hears this and takes pity on the city of Ninevah, and decides not to smite them after all. Which pisses Jonah off, no end, since A. he hates the Ninevites, and B. this means his prophecy is now not true, and his prophetic reputation is shredded.
So God has a little volunteer tree/weed thing grow up overnight to shade Jonah from the hot sun while he's sitting on the hill. Which Jonah likes very much. And then the next day, God sends a little worm to eat at the root of the plant to kill it. Which again pisses Jonah off. He yells at God "Why don't you just kill me now?" To which God replies: "Look at you! You're getting all worked up over a little plant that grew up in a single day. Don't I have a right to be gracious to the hundred thousand people in Ninevah, not to mention all the plants and animals there?"
Isn't that a philosophical failing of the "grace of god," though? If one believes in divine forgiveness, that a god will give a person grace for any action, no matter how repugnant, where is the moral/ethical door that bangs shut before one sins boldly? Christianity sometimes appears to let people off the hook for the consequences of their action (unless you're only reading Old Testament, that is, then there's a whole lotta smiting going on).
Thank you for a very thought-provoking question. I'll start by making a quick distinction: there is a difference between experiencing/accepting the consequences of doing something wrong, and the experience of forgiveness and reconnection with God. For example, just because I've asked for and received forgiveness from God doesn't mean I shouldn't go to jail for stealing a car. Part of the tradition (albeit sometimes under-emphasized) is making right what you have done wrong in some way. Not that that somehow earns the forgiveness, but it is part of the process.
And there is a different limit on forgiveness that I personally find very challenging--that if we expect forgiveness from God, we also need to forgive other people for what they do to us.
But your larger question about the grace of God ultimately reminds me of a story from the Old Testament--the book of Jonah. It starts when God calls Jonah to go and warn the people of Ninevah about the impending divine smackdown. But Jonah doesn't want to go because Ninevah is the conquering oppressor and is a mortal enemy of Israel. The best analogy I can come up with at the moment is if one of Sadaam Hussein's Baathist followers were to start praying for mercy and blessings for Washington, DC.
Jonah gets the call, leaves his house, and starts moving...in the opposite direction from Ninevah. The part of the story you're probably familiar with happens now. Jonah catches a boat to the western end of the world, but God kicks up a huge storm. Jonah admits he's the cause of it, and tells the sailors to throw him overboard, which they do. The storm clears immediately, and Jonah is swallowed by a giant fish of some kind that takes him back east. There he is vomited up on shore in a most dignified manner.
So Jonah goes to Ninevah, walks for a whole day to get into the center of the city, and says one sentence: "God's coming after you for all your sins!" and walks out again to sit on a hill and watch the destruction. The people of Ninevah hear what he says, and they take it to heart. Everyone dresses in repentance clothing: sackcloth and ashes (even the animals) and the lowliest to the highest lie around weeping and fasting and begging God for mercy.
God hears this and takes pity on the city of Ninevah, and decides not to smite them after all. Which pisses Jonah off, no end, since A. he hates the Ninevites, and B. this means his prophecy is now not true, and his prophetic reputation is shredded.
So God has a little volunteer tree/weed thing grow up overnight to shade Jonah from the hot sun while he's sitting on the hill. Which Jonah likes very much. And then the next day, God sends a little worm to eat at the root of the plant to kill it. Which again pisses Jonah off. He yells at God "Why don't you just kill me now?" To which God replies: "Look at you! You're getting all worked up over a little plant that grew up in a single day. Don't I have a right to be gracious to the hundred thousand people in Ninevah, not to mention all the plants and animals there?"
Friday, March 11, 2005
Christian Unity
Tara asks:
Given the differences in theology,etc. between the numerous Christian denominations, where do you think the Christian Church (as a whole) should put its emphasis? I mean, is there a space for Christian unity and if so, what would it look like?
Tara, I very much like an image from 1 Corinthians, where Paul describes the church as being like a body. Some people are the eyes, some are the feet, and so on. I think that denominations are similar in that way--they serve different purposes in the larger body, and make it possible for more people to fit in right somewhere.
It's an interesting question, though, where the entire church should be bending its energies. Whether it should be or not, the church today is wrestling with the many changes in culture and society that have come about as the result of modern science, sociology, psychology, and history, and the challenge to hierarchy presented by modern thinking. The big gay question is the most recent outgrowth of this: the gay rights movement is an extension of feminism, which was made possible by the industrial revolution. Life and culture are shifting very rapidly compared to, oh, say, Western Europe from 800-1200AD. (Please correct me if I'm wrong, medieval scholars). And you'll notice that homosexuality is an issue, if not a ridiculous preoccupation, with most denominational bodies in the US, just as ordaining women was about 20-30 years ago.
What this means is that the church is working hard to stay relevant. This is necessary work--a kind of developmental task that can't be avoided--but unfortunately it pulls us away from our core tasks: teaching, worshipping, serving, sharing the gospel, building community. And it's a distraction from our work serving the vast numbers of the poor, globally, as well as the spiritually hungry right here in the US. The Christian Church as a whole is called to love God and neighbor. I realize this is a very general statement, but hey, I'm quoting Jesus so I should be able to get away with it.
Given the differences in theology,etc. between the numerous Christian denominations, where do you think the Christian Church (as a whole) should put its emphasis? I mean, is there a space for Christian unity and if so, what would it look like?
Tara, I very much like an image from 1 Corinthians, where Paul describes the church as being like a body. Some people are the eyes, some are the feet, and so on. I think that denominations are similar in that way--they serve different purposes in the larger body, and make it possible for more people to fit in right somewhere.
It's an interesting question, though, where the entire church should be bending its energies. Whether it should be or not, the church today is wrestling with the many changes in culture and society that have come about as the result of modern science, sociology, psychology, and history, and the challenge to hierarchy presented by modern thinking. The big gay question is the most recent outgrowth of this: the gay rights movement is an extension of feminism, which was made possible by the industrial revolution. Life and culture are shifting very rapidly compared to, oh, say, Western Europe from 800-1200AD. (Please correct me if I'm wrong, medieval scholars). And you'll notice that homosexuality is an issue, if not a ridiculous preoccupation, with most denominational bodies in the US, just as ordaining women was about 20-30 years ago.
What this means is that the church is working hard to stay relevant. This is necessary work--a kind of developmental task that can't be avoided--but unfortunately it pulls us away from our core tasks: teaching, worshipping, serving, sharing the gospel, building community. And it's a distraction from our work serving the vast numbers of the poor, globally, as well as the spiritually hungry right here in the US. The Christian Church as a whole is called to love God and neighbor. I realize this is a very general statement, but hey, I'm quoting Jesus so I should be able to get away with it.
Thursday, March 03, 2005
Ask another question!
Hey folks,
Along with your run-of-the-mill theological debates, this blog is also open to answering questions using outside "slave labor" experts. Feel free to submit questions on:
Law
Ornithology
Meterology
Film
Music
Basics on Investing
Of course none of it will be "professional" advice, but you're not paying for it either! Put it in the comments box and let's keep talking!
Along with your run-of-the-mill theological debates, this blog is also open to answering questions using outside "slave labor" experts. Feel free to submit questions on:
Law
Ornithology
Meterology
Film
Music
Basics on Investing
Of course none of it will be "professional" advice, but you're not paying for it either! Put it in the comments box and let's keep talking!
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
Christ and the Bible
Angela also asks:
"How do you have faith in Christ if you don't believe that all scripture is true?"
Well, it is possible--here is what my approach is:
1. Scripture--The Bible is a collection of stories about Jesus and how he affected the people around him. It was written by humans and is not a perfect document, but God can use it as a tool to teach us. That doesn't mean God always does this, or that the Bible is universally and totally reliable (as I discuss below), but it does mean that the Bible has been and continues to be an important way God speaks to us.
2. Tradition--Looking to how our forbears in faith have followed Christ is another way that God can speak to us. There is a tendency, with too strong an emphasis on the Bible, to priviledge some sections of our tradition over others.
3. Reason--For me, this is what pulls the disparate parts together--we use reason to balance scripture, tradition, and experience, and to critique them. These different witnesses won't always be in harmony, and reason helps judge which ones are more persuasive at any given time.
4. Experience--This is the source of authority that I find most persuasive. And I have met Christ in my personal experience--in the actions of church members and other caring Christians, and in times of reflection, prayer, and worship. I can read about Christ in the Bible, but what makes a real difference to me is encountering Christ personally, whether through the Bible or other sources.
"How do you have faith in Christ if you don't believe that all scripture is true?"
Well, it is possible--here is what my approach is:
1. Scripture--The Bible is a collection of stories about Jesus and how he affected the people around him. It was written by humans and is not a perfect document, but God can use it as a tool to teach us. That doesn't mean God always does this, or that the Bible is universally and totally reliable (as I discuss below), but it does mean that the Bible has been and continues to be an important way God speaks to us.
2. Tradition--Looking to how our forbears in faith have followed Christ is another way that God can speak to us. There is a tendency, with too strong an emphasis on the Bible, to priviledge some sections of our tradition over others.
3. Reason--For me, this is what pulls the disparate parts together--we use reason to balance scripture, tradition, and experience, and to critique them. These different witnesses won't always be in harmony, and reason helps judge which ones are more persuasive at any given time.
4. Experience--This is the source of authority that I find most persuasive. And I have met Christ in my personal experience--in the actions of church members and other caring Christians, and in times of reflection, prayer, and worship. I can read about Christ in the Bible, but what makes a real difference to me is encountering Christ personally, whether through the Bible or other sources.
Scripture and Truth
Angela asks:
Question, you state "Just because it's in scripture doesn't mean it's true," can you elaborate on this a bit more?
Angela, thanks for the chance to explain this more in depth. It has a lot to do with how I view Scripture, its interpretation, and the kind of truths that it has to offer.
First, let me talk about truth a little bit. There are facts, and there are deeper truths about how the world works and what people are really like. And while the Bible gives us a lot of information about the history of our faith, it is not, and is not intended to be, factually correct in the modern sense. This is where we run into conflicts between the modern interest in facts, and attempts to squeeze the Bible into a genre it was never intended for--as science and history textbook.
So, for example, the story of Jesus' birth in Matthew and Luke:
Both writers have a problem to solve, which is that Jesus was from Nazareth, but according to prophecy the Messiah would be born in Bethlehem. Matthew solves this problem by having Mary and Joseph start out in Bethlehem, but then having them flee to Egypt for a couple of years, after which they returned to Israel but settled in Nazareth. Luke, on the other hand, creates a census that would force Joseph to bring his pregnant wife to Bethlehem. They return to Nazareth after the birth.
Luke's version
Matthew's version
Which version is factually true? Probably neither one--Jesus was from Nazareth, and travel in those times was extremely hazardous and expensive, so it's not very likely that a pregnant woman (Luke's version) would travel miles over desert land for a census, or that a family of little means (Matthew's version) would be able to afford a trip to Egypt.
But both of these stories have a different kind of truth to them--Jesus brought hope and a new kind of kingdom to the people of Israel, symbolized by his birth in Bethlehem. Jesus was persecuted for this, and had the stature and authority of Moses, as Matthew's story suggests. And Jesus was born under humble circumstances, as in Luke's story. These stories are not strictly factual, but they give us insight into the meaning of Jesus' life, ministry, death, and resurrection.
Question, you state "Just because it's in scripture doesn't mean it's true," can you elaborate on this a bit more?
Angela, thanks for the chance to explain this more in depth. It has a lot to do with how I view Scripture, its interpretation, and the kind of truths that it has to offer.
First, let me talk about truth a little bit. There are facts, and there are deeper truths about how the world works and what people are really like. And while the Bible gives us a lot of information about the history of our faith, it is not, and is not intended to be, factually correct in the modern sense. This is where we run into conflicts between the modern interest in facts, and attempts to squeeze the Bible into a genre it was never intended for--as science and history textbook.
So, for example, the story of Jesus' birth in Matthew and Luke:
Both writers have a problem to solve, which is that Jesus was from Nazareth, but according to prophecy the Messiah would be born in Bethlehem. Matthew solves this problem by having Mary and Joseph start out in Bethlehem, but then having them flee to Egypt for a couple of years, after which they returned to Israel but settled in Nazareth. Luke, on the other hand, creates a census that would force Joseph to bring his pregnant wife to Bethlehem. They return to Nazareth after the birth.
Luke's version
Matthew's version
Which version is factually true? Probably neither one--Jesus was from Nazareth, and travel in those times was extremely hazardous and expensive, so it's not very likely that a pregnant woman (Luke's version) would travel miles over desert land for a census, or that a family of little means (Matthew's version) would be able to afford a trip to Egypt.
But both of these stories have a different kind of truth to them--Jesus brought hope and a new kind of kingdom to the people of Israel, symbolized by his birth in Bethlehem. Jesus was persecuted for this, and had the stature and authority of Moses, as Matthew's story suggests. And Jesus was born under humble circumstances, as in Luke's story. These stories are not strictly factual, but they give us insight into the meaning of Jesus' life, ministry, death, and resurrection.
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