Public Sanctuary

For most of my life, I’ve been taught that Christ’s death was necessary because of God’s wrath for humankind. A perfect, holy God simply cannot tolerate sinful human beings. So the story goes.

The theological term is propitiation. It refers to the appeasement of a wrathful deity who requires sacrifice in order to achieve right relationship. And to be sure, there is a place for taking concrete action to reconcile a damaged relationship. But I wonder if we’ve got something dreadfully wrong about God’s character when we start talking about God’s need for a perfect sacrifice to satisfy his bloodlust.

A month or two ago, Justin Taylor wrote about propitiation and its centrality in a particular version of the Gospel. Quoting J.I. Packer:

A gospel without propitiation at is heart is another gospel than that which Paul preached.

But is it possible that Paul’s audience, steeped in the traditions of paganism and the tragic misconceptions of Hellenistic Judaism, simply needed to hear Paul talk about it that way? What if we have completely misconstrued God’s character? What if, as John’s Gospel teaches, God is love? Taylor goes on to quote John Murray:

The doctrine of propitiation is precisely this: that God loved the objects of His wrath (the world) so much that He gave His own Son to the end that He by His blood should make provision for the removal of His wrath.

Many of my non-Christian or post-Christian friends find divine bloodlust one of the most troubling aspects of the Christian faith. Is the God of the universe really so petty that He finds it necessary to cosmically zap the human beings He created in His own image? Is God so vindictive as to require this?

It seems to me that we’ve misplaced our emphasis, particularly in the American Evangelical subculture. The institutions of sacrifice and law (e.g., keeping the Sabbath), while divinely instituted, were given as a temporary teacher until the perfection of Christ arrived (Galatians 3:23-25).

Before the coming of this faith, we were held in custody under the law, locked up until the faith that was to come would be revealed. So the law was our guardian until Christ came that we might be justified by faith. Now that this faith has come, we are no longer under a guardian.

Paul’s gospel is clear. Not only is Christ the perfect fulfillment of the divine law, but Christ is also the one through whom we receive justification by faith. Before his death and resurrection, Jesus was already proclaiming the forgiveness of sins.

So why did Jesus have to die?

Perhaps it has more to do with us than with God.

Maybe Jesus’ death has more to do with our own human need for visible action steps. Jesus’ death was significant. The crucifixion reminds us of the call to lay down our lives for our friends. The willingness of God, in Christ, to suffer death on a cross should remind us all that God didn’t hold us at an arm’s length. God became one of us and suffered for our sakes, so that we could become more like Him.

Maybe Jesus’ death is a reflection of the failings of human law to match up with divine will. Jesus was accused of being a blasphemer, a rabble rouser, and a seditious threat to Rome’s imperial power. Because Jesus exploded the categories of the legal and political authorities of his day, he was made to suffer a horrible death. By the legal standards of the Sanhedrin (the Jewish religious court), Jesus was a blasphemer who threatened the Temple, claimed to be able to forgive sins (without sacrifice!), and claimed to be the Messiah. By the standards of the Roman authorities, Pilate said he could find no specific wrongdoing, but still allowed Jesus to be handed over to the mob.

The doctrine of propitiatory atonement is certainly part of the biblical narrative. But the analogies to Jewish atonement laws serve more as illustrations and not as a central theological tenet. God is “rich in mercy,” longsuffering and good (Romans 2:4), and it is the law that leads to wrath (Romans 4:15). It is a grave mistake to see legalism and wrath at the heart of God’s character. And when we put our focus on our own good works, instead of God’s goodness and mercy, we remain under a curse (Galatians 3:1-10).

When, instead of law, wrath, and works, we focus on being filled with the Spirit of God’s love, miracles happen (cf. Galatians 3:5). Those who focus on the external works of the law, like the Judaizers in Galatia, continue to divide and deny our spiritual unity in Christ (Galatians 3:28-29). This is the core message of the Gospel: that Christ died for the ungodly while we were still dead in our transgressions, and that we are saved by grace and not through the works-righteousness of the law.

So, what do you choose? Do you choose to continue believing in a wrathful, punitive, petty deity who demands propitiatory sacrifice to appease his hurt feelings? Or do you believe in a God who is Love personified and who showed us a better righteousness apart from the law? Do you believe Jesus had to die because of God? Or was it because of our human inability to comprehend the divine love that is fully revealed in Jesus Christ?

Wrath is reserved for those who live by the law, and who hold others to the rigid standards of sinless perfection. The measure we use to judge others will be used to judge us (Romans 2:1-3). There is a better way, exemplified in God’s generous, gracious, merciful character and embodied in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus.

Even if you believe that the Bible is the inerrant inspired Word of God, you must still contend with the reality that proper understanding of God’s Word requires interpretation. Each of us brings his own filters, blinders, and categories. Rather than arrogantly trying to assert one viewpoint as better than another, it’s helpful for us to allow our interpretations to inform one another, to build each other up.

Thanks to David Dark for this gem:

It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.

— C.S. Lewis, from The Weight of Glory and Other Addresses

Brandon Davison writes:

If someone denies the true meaning of Scripture, denies the true identity of Christ, and denies the true gospel, that is not a tolerable person. We do not get together with those kind of people to find out what we hold in common. We do not elevate them because even though they disagree with us, they are religious and they’re spiritual, and they’re good people and they’re conscious of God and they believe in one God.

I’ve always been interested in the fact that Jesus’ command in the Great Commission is, “Go and make disciples of all nations.” The risen Christ speaks victoriously to the faithful, saying, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me.” It all sounds fairly dominionist, right? Onward Christian soldiers, and all that?

But the word translated “disciple” in Greek (mathetes) derives from the word mathano which is translated as “I hear” or “I learn.” Mathetes might also be translated “learner” or “listener”. So, one way of looking at the command of Christ is to make sure everyone hears the news. Evangelists bring the good news of the Gospel to a world that needs to hear it. But there’s another way of understanding the verse.

To make someone listen is not merely a matter of proclaiming your truth. There are all kinds of noise that we learn to tune out. Becoming a learner or a listener requires a certain attitude of the mind. It requires an openness and a willingness to follow. We must allow ourselves to enter into the truth of what the Other has to say to us. This openness to new experience, new insight, and new ways of being is exactly the opposite of what Davison is exemplifying in his polemic against tolerance.

How do we make other people open-minded? How do we open the minds and hearts of those who are closed off? In my experience working with addicts and their families, I’ve seen that the more you try to convince and persuade, the more resistance you get in response. I know I’m certainly wired that way. If you want to make me defensive, try to persuade me that I’m wrong.

The process of “making disciples” is not about screaming louder or even sharpening your message. Making disciples of others requires that we become disciples. We must listen and respond to Christ’s authority, keeping in tune with the Holy Spirit (love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control), if we want others to hear the good news.

I’m left with a challenge. If my brother in Christ, Brandon, has an honest disagreement with me about the meaning of Scripture, his teaching encourages me to dissociate from him and not to tolerate him. But Scripture clearly says that I should love my enemies, bear with one another and forgive whatever grievances I have against my neighbor. I am called by Scripture to accept the other as Christ accepted me. I am commanded to love, not to neglect or cut-off.

So, what now?

I just received this from Rabbi Rami Shapiro, and wanted to share.

Hello,

I write books, but it is wisdom rather than book sales that motivates me. While I love to share what I know through my books, I also want to share what I have learned and the people from whom I have learned it.

That is why I helped create Holy Rascals, a growing library of short videos sharing the many voices of human wisdom. Right now Holy Rascals primarily features interviews I conducted with a variety of wonderful teachers. Our hope is to move beyond these to include your own short videos introducing us to the teachers you know and love as well.

To get things started, I am asking you to visit www.holyrascals.com,
sample our videos, and let us know what you think. We’re always looking for volunteer help with the project and funding. If this is something that interests you, please get in touch with Cathy Zheutlin at rest@spiritone.com and she will involve you in the project in a way that is fun and interesting for you.

The faster we can grow an audience for the videos we have, the faster we can move on to edit more of what we’ve shot with Reverend Matthew Fox, Joan Borysenko, Kabir and Camille Helminski, plus shoot with Andrew Harvey, and get discussion groups off the ground.

Thanks for your help with Holy Rascals!

Rabbi Rami

“You’re an interesting species. An interesting mix. You’re capable of such beautiful dreams, and such horrible nightmares. You feel so lost, so cut off, so alone, only you’re not. See, in all our searching, the only thing we’ve found that makes the emptiness bearable, is each other.” – from Contact, by Carl Sagan

“Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will spend its whole life believing that it is stupid.” – Albert Einstein

I often tell people that, when I was a college junior, I wrote the definitive philosophical treatise on humility.

It was a pretty good paper, by the way. The basic idea is that we’re all dirt. But we’re inspired dirt. So, learning to live authentically gives us a source of spiritual power that brings life to others.

But in spite of my philosophical and psychological study of moral and spiritual matters, I’m still a mess. I’m a bit neurotic, overanalyze everything, and tend to rationalize and defend myself from my worst flaws and character defects. Like Paul said to the Corinthians: “Knowledge puffs up. Love builds up.” I tend to know too much and love too little.

As a therapist, I find that I’ve learned a ton of spiritual “tricks of the trade” to help myself and others overcome obstacles. I know spiritual disciplines and psychotherapeutic techniques.

What I’m not very good at, though, is letting go.

You know that “Trust Fall” exercise? I can’t do it. I find myself breaking my fall, bending my knees, looking back … anything but letting go. And it’s not that I’m not willing to trust – mentally and emotionally. I just seem to be physically unable to stop the automatic reflex to catch myself and avoid the potential of getting hurt.

It’s a little like the story of the rich young ruler, where Jesus meets a guy who has kept all the commandments and become very successful. Jesus tells him, “You lack one thing. Go, sell all your possessions, and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven.” The young man walks away dejected, because he can’t let go of the trappings of his success. His security is found in the prudent, cautious, diligent work that he has done, and not in God.

And God doesn’t just want 10% on Sunday mornings. God owns everything we have, every day of the week. And we know what we’re supposed to do with our stuff, but it’s hard to let go of things that provide comfort, joy, and security.

I’m still learning to let go.

Ben sent me the link to Shea Hembrey’s TED talk, How I became 100 artists, more than a week ago and I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind. I stare at my ceiling wondering, if I got a chance to speak to this guy, what would we talk about? What would I ask him about why or how or…

….or questions I cannot creatively fathom now because I’m too busy being simultaneously so struck with awe and utterly tickled by the novelty of it all.

What I cannot seem to get over is that, apart from the sheer brilliance and will that it takes to pull off a project of that magnitude (creating entirely original installments of art in 100 different styles AND making up back stories for all 100 fictional artists), is that in the end, to me, the ultimate piece of art to the whole thing is that it’s all a lie….a fabrication, a false reality.

I love this kind of shit.

Call our collective sense of reality into question and dupe society via art? This kind of boundary-pushing work is something I live for.

In expressing this attraction via a conversation with Ben, he paraphrases Pablo Picasso:

“Art is a lie that leads us into truth.”

Maybe we need to explore this statement and what it means in English a little further but I just can’t quiet get behind that statement. Hey, we might love Picasso but that doesn’t necessarily make him right. Right? In this case it’s more like Life is the Lie and Art is the Truth. I’m a fan of the cyclical argument that life imitates art imitates life….

In essence, it’s all a lie.

No, I know, it’s impossible that I’m that cynical. That is true.

I learned from Ben that the original quote reads:

“El arte es una mentira que nos acerca a la verdad.”

It went over my head at the time because alas, I only speak English, but I got a note from Ben a while later that said: “I was just looking up the origin of the word “mentir” (to lie) and it means “to conjure up, to invent.”

Now THAT is something I can work with AND by that token it IS all a lie but instead of being all icky and cynical it takes on a generally more spiritual context that I take to mean, Art exists to hold the illusion of reality up to your eyes that you may confront your own false realities.

Perception of reality in the human experience is something that I search for in every new person I meet whether they know it or not. If a person’s reality appears to be flexible this is a quality that I admire (and I hope I share). If their reality appears to be rigid, I take it as my cue to step in and start questioning that reality. I can hardly help myself.

Shiva, Ben has affectionately dubbed me at times (isn’t he sweet?).

Pablo Picasso has another quote of which I am fond:

“Every act of creation is first an act of destruction.”

How are your realities feeling today?

Anything you’d like a little help destroying/creating?

Let’s get started shall we….?

Ben kindly notified me tonight that it’s time I started making my voice heard more often in this space we have created for ourselves. He’s right of course. Ben is among the smartest men I’ve ever known since we met 20 years ago.

All the same it is easier said than done.

I seem to be experiencing what can only be described as creative constipation. That is to say I’ve had my creative switch flipped to the off position for the past 10 years, and since reconnecting with my dear friend Ben a little more than a month ago, I have not just been turned back on but have found myself plugged directly into the main grid. The down side is that after being almost entirely empty for the past 10 years, being filled to max cap I don’t always know how to let is out and be expressed.

Basically I need to take the advice I’m always giving to artists, writers and musicians who are not putting out.

“Stop being so fucking precious and just make the art!”

Pretty good right? Yeah.

If your body is constipated, you take a laxative. I guess it’s time to take a lesson from my past as a musician where I made myself play a little ever day. In my present as a writer I need to be more vigilant, more diciplined and do the same. So get ready, ’cause it’s gonna get messy and it’s gonna get everywhere.

(Incidentally, at the time of this draft I am writing you from my new Samsung Epic Galaxy phone…ain’t technology grand?)