Emerging Women

Miroslav Volf writes in Free of Charge that when the Spirit of Christ indwells us, God occupies the space, of “I,” so that Christ lives in and through us; the cooperation and intimacy between our spirit and God’s spirit becomes so intimate that there is in some ways no distinction.When we love, it is truly God loving through us. When we will God’s will, it is also God willing through us.

What does this have to do with self-love? Simply that when we love ourselves, it is God loving us through us.

It isn’t even controversial to talk about showing someone else the love of God, or letting God love someone through our presence, our actions, our listening, our acceptance. But somehow when we apply this exact same theology to self-love we feel a little worried. Is it self-indulgent? Selfish? Shouldn’t we make ourselves feel guilty for our failures so we can improve? Is God loving us through loving ourselves too close to saying that we are God?

Or sin of all sins, Is self-love New-Agey?

If it’s wrong to allow God to love us through our own spirit-filled self-love, then let’s be consistent: It’s plain wrong to let God love others through our love. Trying to let Christ shine through us to others is too close to self-worship.

Or does loving self in God’s Spirit actually lead to the death of ego and the birth of a renewed life?

I hope people don’t mind me posting here again so soon, but I came across something that really moved me, and that taught me a huge amount in the space of a couple of minutes. I included it on my blog already, but I’ve extended the post a little for Emerging Women.

This video is obviously a church ad, but the poem is incredible. “To be known is to be loved, and to be loved is to be known”. Isn’t that all we really want? Isn’t it what moves and drives all of humanity? The need for love is built in to everybody, and it follows us from the time we’re born until the time we pass away.

The video is based on the feelings the that Samaritan woman who Jesus met at the well may have had. It has made me want to look a lot closer at the Samaritan woman to find out what more I can glean from her and her encounter with Jesus. I’ve never looked at it in this way before, and I probably never will again.

It’s certainly given me lots to think about.

Heather.

I subscribe to Internet Q & A’s by John Shelby Spong. I know to some, he is a controversial figure, but I liked the question and his answer in this weeks topic. I just thought I would share. I know we have discussed this before, but was curious if anyone’s postion has evolved even more than before?

Donna Percy from the Internet, writes:

“The idea of calling God “He” bothers me. Although I had a loving father, in my 28 years of teaching I have come in contact with many who were abusive. One year, a grandmother came in for a parent conference and revealed that her granddaughter’s father, under the guise of saying goodnight prayers with his daughter, sexually abused her for years. I wonder how this girl will be able to receive God’s message when she continually hears God referred to as “He”? Even the hymns are filled with references to “Him.” Fortunately, our current pastors use “God” — not the pronoun — and few in the church have noticed. I write on behalf of all the girls of this world who, like my beloved student, have been hurt deeply by their fathers.”

Dear Donna,
I share your concern but we have to overcome perhaps 10,000 years of training in the maleness of God. An enormous start on this consciousness raising activity has been achieved, but to erase the influence of the ages will literally take ages. Liturgies change, but ever so slowly, and most of them even now are rooted in the 13th century. The gospels reflect the patriarchal prejudice of the first century Jewish world in which they were created. Even the Ten Commandments assume that women are the property of men (thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife, nor his ox).
Polygamy is present in the Bible because women were defined as property hence the richer the man was, the more wives he could possess, as well as more sheep and cattle. My guess is that it will take another 100-200 years to remove the prejudice and stain of patriarchy from our patterns of worship. That is not said to be discouraging since that is very rapid in terms of how long sexism has been around. The fact remains that for those who are victimized by this prejudice, every day is one day too long.
This concern only dawned on me well into my adult life. I recall that when I wrote in 1973 and published in 1974 my second book, “This Hebrew Lord,” I was unknowingly still completely insensitive to male-oriented, non-inclusive language. That was also no problem for my publisher, Harper Collins. Even their style sheet was not sensitive to the need for inclusive language. When HarperCollins asked me to revise this book for a new edition in 1986, both of us were in a new place. I made approximately 3500 changes in the text of this 180 page book, 90% of which were to remove sexist language, like the references to God that referred to God as “father, he, him or his.” A wonderful early feminist woman in my congregation in Richmond, Virginia, named Holt Carlton, had begun very lovingly, but very persistently to raise my awareness to my closed-minded, unconscious, sexist prejudices. I was amazed that in the space of 12 years things about which I had no sensitivity at all had actually become offensive to me. All of us are caught up in this change whether we recognize it or not. The rate of change accelerates every year as the flow of information becomes almost instantaneous, but for sexism to be completely removed will still take three or four more generations. One reason for the slow pace is that both fundamentalist Protestant churches and Roman Catholic churches spend enormous energy opposing these changes. Those efforts will fail, but they do keep us from moving as rapidly as we might otherwise move. It is also one more sign of both the irrelevance and even the death of institutional religion, which always seems to be on the wrong side of history.
I do not urge you to be patient. I urge you, rather, to be loud in your complaints until the consciousness of all people becomes aware of the power of language.
God is not a father or a mother. Patriarchy has defined God for thousands of years, but patriarchy is now dying.
Thanks are due to people like you for being part of its death.
– John Shelby Spong

I recently got an email from an EW reader who wrote -

I am a graduate student in English and the wife of a campus minister … We have a baby boy who is 5 months old. We’ve been thinking about how to teach him about Jesus (of course) and I’ve been looking for children’s books. I am having a difficult time finding good books for children, and I’m wondering if you might have any recommendations. Perhaps this could be a good post on the blog. Many of the books I find portray Jesus as a white man or assign stereotypical roles to women and men. I would also love to teach him to pray for children in poverty, and I can’t seem to find any books on this!

So I contributed my $.02 -

I’m with you on the children’s books thing. So many that I find (or have been given to me) are just awful. I’ve yet to find any good Jesus books for kids, but there are a number of decent spirituality books out there. Some of my favorites include -

The Lord’s Prayer and The Twenty-third Psalm – by Tim Ladwig (uses the familiar words with fantastic artwork that portrays inner-city life)

and books from the Early Childhood Spirituality series like – Where is God?, What is God’s Name?, and How Does God Make Things Happen? (most by Laurence Kushner or Sandy Eisenburg Sasso). These books are very multicultural and focus on love and grace. They have full picture books and board book varieties (a necessity with my toddler).

and (although they are not “Christian” – by label, not intent) I like the values taught in the Todd Parr line of books like The Peace Book and The Feelings Book. (Emma especially like the idea of peace being enough pizza in the world for everyone, she’s two)

and I think they are out of print, but the allegorical stories in The Tales of the Kingdom series by David and Karen Mains have been a favorite of mine since I was a kid.

But I would love to find “bible” stories that aren’t warped in some way. That don’t change the story drastically to be suitable for kids, that don’t reduce scripture to a plithy fable, or that don’t teach individualistic “me” centered theology.

So I present the question here to the diverse community that meanders to this blog. What do you recommend?

I’ve been thinking quite a bit lately about the irony of the Promise Land story: in it we find a tale about liberation from slavery into a land of freedom, governed by laws designed to nurture community and respect for the alien and the poor, yet the very haven promised by God is acquired via a divinely sanctioned genocide based on religious intolerance. In the Emerging Conversation with its stress on narrative, I have not seen this dilemma thoroughly explored. How can we find ourselves in the story of the Israelites, to whom this tale is so pivotal while cherishing human rights and working to rid the world of genocide in the name of the Prince of Peace?

From Reuters:

VATICAN CITY (Reuters) – The Roman Catholic Church has effectively buried the concept of limbo, the place where tradition and teaching held that babies went if they died without baptism.

In a long-awaited document, the Church’s International Theological Commission said limbo reflected an “unduly restrictive view of salvation”.

The 41-page document was published on Friday by Origins, the documentary service of the U.S.-based Catholic News Service, which is part of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops.

Pope Benedict, himself a top theologian who before his election in 2005 expressed doubts about limbo, authorised the publication of the document, called “The Hope of Salvation for Infants Who Die Without Being Baptised”.

The verdict that limbo could now rest in peace had been expected for years. The document was seen as most likely the final word since limbo was never part of Church doctrine, even though it was taught to Catholics well into the 20th century.

“The conclusion of this study is that there are theological and liturgical reasons to hope that infants who die without baptism may be saved and brought into eternal happiness even if there is not an explicit teaching on this question found in revelation,” it said.

“There are reasons to hope that God will save these infants precisely because it was not possible (to baptise them).”

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I’m sorry. Did I miss something here? “There are reasons to hope God will save these infants…” “Reasons to hope”? I don’t need “reasons to hope” for those precious children and those parents, some of whom are my friends. I know. God is love – every baby is His most precious creation, and should one die when she has barely touched this Earth, who could believe that He would do *anything* other than sweep that soul back up into His arms?

Only people who had never loved anyone deeply could possibly assume otherwise and even consider coming up with a place like limbo.

You may ask, and rightly so, “*Why* did they feel the need to come up with limbo?” Well, if the Church allowed unbaptised babies to go straight to heaven, the next question would be about good people who hadn’t been baptised…and if the babies could go to heaven, then the door to heaven would be open for *them*, and what would be the point of baptism into the Church? Or, indeed, the Church at all?

Hmmm. Does that sound like a clarification of God’s will? Or does it sound like a way of putting God in a box, of justifying the Church’s existence? After all, if there are as many paths to God as people, with only “Remain in God, who is love, and operate from there” as the key principle…there’s no need for organised religion or laws to keep the faithful ‘good’ and separate from their wholeness – whether it’s their anger, sexuality, passion, or pain. There is just a community of people, interconnected through their humanity and divinity, helping eachother on their way home.

No way of controlling anyone, of being more worthy than anyone, of having all the answers. That must be a frightening thought for those who are addicted to a priesthood of any denomination. Maybe even for all of us, much as we’d hate to admit it.

So, goodbye to limbo, which, like the Church that gave it birth, has an “unduly restrictive view of salvation.” (The “If you’re not in the club, you can’t come into the treehouse” view of salvation, I call it. It’s difficult to hate the Church if you think of the Vatican as a bunch of adolescent boys dressing up in red robes, making up ever more complex rules for their club. And actually believing that those rules determine how God, reality and the world work.) Good riddance. Aristotle, go on up!

And hello to the little ones looking down from heaven over the centuries who’ve been having a good giggle about this whole concept:

“You mean I nearly spent 75 years there? Blimey. Mind you, the harp playing IS getting a bit tedious…”

By Peter Rollins

How (Not) to Speak of God conveys a third alternative to fundamentalist certainty or lethargic ambiguity, pointing toward a new way of being authentic, humble and passionately committed to becoming Christian. Dogma is out; paradox is in; yet the mysteries of God are held in a sacred way, understood in the context of loving Someone whom we can never pin down with definitions, yet for whom we give ourselves entirely, without regard for personal gain or loss, but simply for Love.

Drawing heavily upon the classic Christian mystics, Rollins is not concerned with changing Christian tradition, but rather with adopting a new way of holding and encompassing that tradition that actively acknowledges that our religion is at best a response to an encounter with God, rather than a pure representation of God as God truly IS. Rollins writes, “This is no then a revolution that seeks to change what we believe, but rather one that sets about transforming the entire manner in which we hold our beliefs” (p7.) A/theism in this context is not a rejection of God, but a rejection of absolute certainty of what exactly God is; heresy, interpreted by Rollins is simply acknowledging that as Christians, we understand that our theologies are not adequate for God. In revelation, concealment is there too, because God is hyperpresent, hypernonymous…and who knows? Maybe God’s just plain hyper!

Two central themes of the book that stand out to me are, “God, rid me of God,” (a quote from Meister Eckhart,) and loving/giving all for Jesus for the sake of love, rather than benefit, either earthly or heavenly. Rollin’s reflections are profoundly philosophical, and at the same time extremely incarnational, challenging those on a journey of becoming Christian to walk as Jesus did, loving and offering ourselves to God and other sacrificially, simply for love’s sake alone. Clearly, Peter is a romantic — but not of the cheesy Hallmark variety.

Pete opens up a great discussion of biblical truth. First he works to tear down the bible as a conceptual idol, noting that “The only significant difference between the aesthetic idol and the conceptual idol lies in the fact that the former reduces God to a physical object while the latter reduces God to an intellectual object” (P 12.) Later Rolllins writes, “Truth is God and having knowledge of the Truth is evidenced, not in a doctrinal system, but in allowing that Truth to be incarnated in one’s life” (p 56.) Rollin’s argument for Truth as Relationship is carried over into his excellent discussion of Christian ethics, pointing out that “we can never rest easy, believing we have discovered the foundations that act as a key for working out what we must do in different situations: for the only clear foundation laid down by Jesus was the foundation of love” (p 64.)

Peter also addresses some topics we’ve been struggling with recently in terms of how to frame our own perceptions and experience in connection with brothers and sisters whose views and convictions seem to fight with our own deep values, leaving us wondering how to stand for our convictions without letting our egos, wounded places and insecurities get the better of us. There’s a great discussion on “Being evangelized,” including a fascinating piece dealing with the scenario where two different people experience the same situation (even a church) in starkly different ways, because of what they bring as unique individuals to the experience. Pete uses a cool camel analogy to explain how both people’s experience can be correct given their individual burdens. You can find the camel on page 67.

In part two, Pete invites the reader to witness (second hand) some of Ikon’s services, which represent some practical worship outworkings of the ideas discussed in part one of the book. I highly recommend reading through these services; even if you don’t resonate with Rollin’s approach; the services are quite provocative, creative, and I would go so far as to say even sacramental (in the liberal sense,) with plenty of fertile depth to plumb.

I could quote this book for days, but really you should read it yourself, if you haven’t already.

Please feel free to take this discussion anywhere you like; I’ve posted below some discussion points/questions for a place to begin.

1. Describe your initial response to the book and what went into your reaction. How then did your thoughts/feelings evolve throughout the reading and reflecting time you spent with How (Not) to Speak of God?

2. Was there any time where this book served as an icon, as in a place where you encountered God? How so?

3. What most confused, irritated or challenged you? What happened next?

4. On pages 33-35 Peter describes the beauty of faith expressed in a time of profound doubt. He writes about the Saturday between Good Friday and Resurrection Sunday. “A love that requires contracts and absolute assurance in order to act is no love at all…it is precisely in the midst of a Holy Saturday experience that the decision to follow Christ becomes truly authentic” (p 34.) What are your thoughts and experiences with this way of embracing doubt as faith/love?

5. On page 53 (Being evangelized) Rollins explores the nature of loving dialogue. He states of healthy of emerging conversations: “This dialogue replaces the standard monologue of those would wish to either clone the other, making them into a reflection of themselves, or exclude the other, making them into a scapegoat who embodies all our fears and insecurities.” In what do you feel you personally and Emerging Women collectively have succeeded and struggled with this way of being in conversation with different viewpoints? Where do you sense God leading you/us?

5. There is an incredibly beautiful story on page 63 about a priest living during the holocaust who feels his Christian faith compels him to lay down his life for his Jewish friends by becoming a Jew. Rollins comments, “The most powerful way for this priest to affirm his Christianity is to lay it down…and so this priest gives up his Christianity precisely in order to retain his Christianity.” What thoughts does this bring to mind?

6. In his final chapter (service 10 on page 131,) in the context of talking about making Ikon a safe and accepting place for people of all religious/non-religious/liberal/conservative persuasions to come together in spiritual community, Rollins writes this: “One way to think of Ikon relates to the idea of a doughnut. Just as a doughnut has no interior, but is made of entirely of an exterior, so Ikon has no substantial doctrinal center.” What do you make of this idea?

7. What’s your favorite quote from the book?