(Re)Reading the Bible is a foundational study for biblical interpretation, showing how the bible finds its deepest voice by growing and maturing over the history of its multiple writing.

(Re)Reading #1. Lament at the Heart of the Psalms. (04/01/11)


Christians are in crisis – trying to understand their role in history. Unlike previous crises in church history, this is not primarily a doctrinal issue. Christians are turning to the Bible one more time, with modern scholarship providing a fresh approach, to help them situate themselves in the world. The Old Testament is interpreted, as a revelation of humanity that is at least as important as the revelation of God. We understand God in a new way as we begin to understand ourselves. The Bible is a description of who we are as human beings. We have been told that the Bible tells us we are sinners - indeed lists all of our individual sins. Christ took these sins upon himself and saved us. These concepts are formal and legalistic. If the Bible is seen instead as a means of disclosing the way we are misconstructed as human beings, then it begins to mean much more. It becomes transformative. Understanding is part of being made new. Jesus is both the lens and the path through which we gain this revelation. He brings a radically new way of being human which is at the same time a new knowledge of ourselves and a new knowledge of and relationship with God. “No one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him” (MT:11 27). Outside the nonviolence of Jesus (which is his forgiveness) it is impossible to know God.

The Bible moves forward, but is always in tension with itself. So where is the best place to begin? The Psalms are hard to date. They include some of the oldest material in the Scriptures (from the reign of Solomon) but extend perhaps through the second century BCE– an arc of 800 years. They have the honesty and authenticity of a diary or a journal. They provide a witness to the emotional, existential experience of the people of that time. The Psalms are not so much about history or doctrine but about feelings.

They are a personal human response. The Psalms can be divided into three general categories:

1. Psalms of thanksgiving and praise. In these the author thanks and praises God for nature or for God’s protection and care of his people. Psalm 8 is an example of one of the nature Psalms – human beings are the crown of creation. “You have made them a little lower than God, and crowned them with glory and honor”

2. Covenant or Torah psalms. These psalms are about the Law God gave and the relationship between the people and the Law. They have a strong ethical sense, of what God requires of us. Psalm 15 is an example: “O Lord who may abide in your tent? Who may dwell on your holy hill? Those who walk blamelessly, and do what is right, and speak the truth from their heart”.

3. The Psalms of Lament– the most typical of the psalms, and the most powerful. They are a personal or communal crying out in lament or complaint. The psalms of lament begin our biblical journey. Psalm 3, 7 10 and 12 demonstrate the dominant themes and tones of the psalms of lament. They cry out for justice against the strong, powerful and greedy who oppress and do violence and think that God does not see. The psalms are not a political statement. They are cries of help addressed to God, asking him to act against the enemies of the people. The Psalmist trusts that God will hear his complaint and will act. If your God first revealed himself by setting you free from Egypt, then there is an assumption that your God is involved and is concerned about your situation. The psalmist’s entreaty depends upon an established personal relationship, one of justice. This was a radical belief.

Alphabetic writing began to be widely used in the area of Tyre and Sidon around 1100BCE and was already established by the time the Hebrews began recording their history. It was more expressive than hieroglyphics and cuneiform which go back at least two thousand years before this. Writing was used by the scribes in ancient Egypt and Babylonia for discursive wisdom-style literature (how to behave), and also to record business transactions, and provide diplomatic and governmental reports for the ruling elite. A few wrote about the difficulties of life. The “Babylonian Theodicy” (around 1000 BCE) is similar to the book of Job. It is a reflection on injustice. It concludes by deciding that the gods have set things up this way and that nothing can be done. “The gods gave perverse speech to the human race. With lies, and not truth, they endowed them for ever” Everywhere the gods collude with the powerful. There is no active God of justice intervening in the world for the poor and the suffering. The wise sought to evade the notice of the gods and the powerful who have them on their side, to avoid their wrath by remaining under the radar. Or by placating and serving the gods through cult and sacrifice and so keeping evil at bay and earning favor.

The Hebrew God of justice is a cultural anomaly. Humans are no longer pawns of the gods. For the first time there is an emotional connection to the divine expressed in terms of relationship which expects justice. Deep human emotion is valued. The writers are not afraid to express fierce anger at injustice because they know their cry is heard. God is expected to act because that is his character. There is at last a recourse to counter the “divine right” of the kings. Psalm 58 is perhaps one of the worst psalms in terms of violence and vengeance. It rails against injustice and calls upon God for vengeance: “Do you indeed decree what is right, you gods? Do you judge people fairly?” This person is not even addressing God. It is a critique against the mighty, a release of hatred and anger.

Emotionally it makes sense, an expression of the emotion that is released once the possibility of a just world emerges for the first time. The psalms thus express this emotion as a necessary stage in the process of becoming human. It is the first human rebellion against resignation and fatalism. Even in the psalms that rail against God himself, the anger is evidence of a relationship.

Anger only exists when one cares, when greater expectations are unfulfilled. The psalms of lament are also therefore a way of channeling and discharging violent emotion. This can be directed towards God or just as likely be reflected back upon the psalmist in terms of remorse. These are the psalms of repentance. In these psalms there is a recognition that we are the same as those we cry out against. Psalms 6, 32, 38, 51, 102, 130 and 143 are examples. Psalm 51 is the greatest of these. The call here is not for vengeance but for mercy. The psalmist has experienced a world with God’s presence of justice and human wholeness and now cries out to return to that place. “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a new and right spirit within me. Do not cast me away from your presence, and do not take your holy spirit from me”. There is also an implied solidarity with the rest of the human condition. The psalmist seeks to bring others to repentance. Above all there is a dependence on grace. Sacrifices bring God no delight, rather a broken and contrite heart. The last verses (18-19) are widely recognized to be additions, an editorial comment. They strike a dissonant chord within the text – illustrating its human composition.

Psalm 22 is arguably the greatest of all of the Psalms. It is the psalm that Jesus cries out on the cross. He cries out the opening words and in so doing invokes the whole psalm. Here the emotional pathway reaches its fullest development. The sense of being surrounded by persecutors and under threat runs through many of the psalms. But here there is no call for vengeance or retaliation. The end of the psalm invokes the absolute power of God to save and that the whole of the earth will turn to God and worship him. There is a realization that the only way that non-violence can work and justice still be done is by in some way dealing with those who have died. “To him indeed, shall all who sleep in the earth bow down; before him shall bow all who go down to the dust” (v29). There is a belief in a God that will reach down to death itself. Even after death the relationship with God continues. The thing that makes us retaliate is ultimately the fear of death. If the relationship continues in death then God breaks through the barrier that keeps us locked in injustice and the endless violence that is its counterpart.



(Re) Reading #2. Job (04/08/11)

The forty-two chapter book of Job begins and ends with a "frame story" describing the basic circumstances of the loss and restoration of the fortunes of Job. Job, a devout and successful man, becomes the object of a wager between God and Satan in the heavenly court. Satan at this point is not the Satan of the Gospels (the symbolization of earthy evil and violence). Rather he is a kind of officer whose job is to prosecute (accuse) guilty humans. The Satan has been "patrolling up and down upon the earth." God boasts to him of his servant Job, “a blameless and upright man who fears God and turns away from evil”. The Satan replies that Job has no reason to turn from God, but “stretch out your hand now, and touch all that he has, and he will curse you to your face”. God accepts the Satan’s challenge, allowing Satan to take everything from him – his possessions, family and health --sparing only his life.


In Job 2:3 God is portrayed as the first to succumb to the Satan’s temptation. He says: “Although you incited me against him to destroy him for no reason ('for nothing').” The Bible is saying that God was tempted by the Satan/the accuser. He crushes Job “for nothing” (Job 9:17). In contrast, Jesus, during his third temptation, replies to Satan ,“Do not put the Lord your God to the test ” quoting from Dt 6:16. Thus in the book of Job God is shown to be less than ideal, in fact to be very "human".. Why is this? What lesson is being taught about the meaning of "God"?


It is hard to put a date on Job’s composition. The reference to a Satan patrolling the earth could come from the Persian practice of organizing regular patrols as a way of controlling their empire. If so it indicates a date of around 500-350 BCE. Job was not an Israelite. He came from the land of Uz and his name can be translated as “enemy”. This fact signals early on that the book is reasoning outside the accepted framework of the Law. It is Job, the enemy and foreigner, who is relentlessly shown to be righteous and blameless.


Job, covered in sores, sits silent among the ashes until three friends, hearing of his troubles, show up to comfort him. After seven days Job starts to speak. The central part of the book is made up of a series of speeches. Job speaks first, then each friend, with Job replying to each in turn. This cycle is repeated three times – so Job has 10 speeches, the friends three each (the final speech of the third friend is missing, presumed by most to have been lost). As the text progresses the friends become more irritated and their arguments and accusations more forceful and direct. Their arguments are basically the same: These misfortunes are not happening by accident. Job must have sinned to have lost God’s favor. They urge him to admit his guilt. Job remains steadfast in the declaration of his innocence.


After the three friends have exhausted themselves a new character is introduced – Elihu, a young man. He is angry that Job’s friends have been unsuccessful in their attempts to convince Job that he is guilty. He also makes two speeches that this time are not answered by Job. Who is Elihu? His name means “He is God”. It is almost as if everyone, including God, is ganging up on Job. When everyone is scapegoating a victim, the manufactured god of unanimous human violence emerges. Elihu sets the stage for Yahweh who finally appears on the scene and speaks to Job out of the whirlwind (40:6). He also gives two speeches but these do not actually answer Job’s complaint. Rather they are an account of the majesty and power of God evident in nature. He describes the Behemoth (hippopotamus) and the Leviathan (crocodile). He lists all of the stuff that he can do that Job cannot. The response doesn’t work. It rings hollow in the light of all that has gone before. It sounds majestic (even pompous) and believable, but remains inadequate.


In his speeches, Job constantly asserts his innocence. He stands alone, yet has the courage to continue. He addresses his complaints to God (not Yahweh here like in the frame story, but “El”). In 9:15 Job protests that God is beyond justice. “Though I am innocent, I cannot answer him; I must appeal for mercy to my accuser”. If Satan is the accuser, then God has become Satan. And God is on the side of the mob, the same as the mob: "He has torn me in his wrath, and hated me; he has gnashed his teeth at me; my adversary sharpens his eyes against me. They have gaped at me with their mouths; they have struck me insolently on the cheek; they mass themselves together against me. God gives me up to the ungodly, and casts me into the hands of the wicked...he has set me up as his target; his archers surround me." (16:9-12)


In 9:22 he says that God destroys both the blameless and the wicked. This is an ironic commentary on the psalms and the Deuteronomic God. Deuteronomy is the classic book of reward and punishment. “You must therefore be careful to do as the Lord your God has commanded you; you shall not turn to the right or to the left. You must follow exactly the path that the Lord your God has commanded you, so that you may live, and that it may go well with you, and that you may live long in the land that you are to possess” (Dt5:32-33) Later, Ezra and Nehemiah would appropriate the Deuteronomic view. They saw the Exile as God’s punishment for the people’s transgressions, and exhorted the people to get it right this time. The Pharisees, also adopted this concept of reward and punishment, creating a hedge around the Law to safeguard against any unintentional transgressions. The same thinking (reward and punishment) is evident in certain strands of Christianity today – for example in prosperity preaching.


Job, in contrast, is saying that God does bad things to bad and good people alike. It would be a return to the arbitrary fatalism that existed before the psalms, except that Job rails against God personally. Job has no confidence in the trustworthy character of God displayed in the psalms, who acts justly because his nature demands it. Job is struggling to make sense of the problem of innocent suffering together with blame-the-victim theology, while maintaining a belief in a personal God who intervenes on behalf of his people. Job protests to God about God. He is profoundly questioning the nature of God. In the same way Psalm 22 cries out “My God, my God why have you forsaken me?” It is almost like God has disappeared in these texts. Both Job and Jesus have put God to death – the God constructed by humans. Job implicates this humanly created God in the exclusion, blaming and scapegoating of the innocent. Job cries out for a different kind of God.


What then is the way through in Job?


Job begins to talk about a third party in his dialogue with God. Someone who will stand on his side against God. It occurs in three places in the text, gradually becoming more developed. At 9:32-33 “For he is not a mortal, as I am, that I might answer him, that we should come to trial together. There is no umpire between us, who might lay his hand on us both”. Here Job expresses his wish for an impartial umpire to act between him and God. Humans have no recourse against the divine: he needs someone else who can arbitrate. In 16:18-21 this wish becomes more concrete – a belief that he has a witness in heaven. A witness who is not God. “O earth do not cover my blood; let my outcry find no resting place. Even now, in fact, my witness is in heaven, and he that vouches for me is on high.” It is his innocent blood crying out from the ground that is the source of his belief. In 19:23-27 belief is transformed into knowledge. “For I know that my Redeemer lives, and that at the last he will stand upon the earth; and after my skin has been destroyed, then in my flesh I shall see God, whom I shall see on my side”.


The figure of the redeemer (“go’el”) or the avenger of blood appears elsewhere in the Old Testament (in Numbers and Deuteronomy). It was an institutionalized role in nomadic/tribal cultures before the establishment of civic law. If someone is killed then someone has to avenge the spilled blood. This was usually the duty of a close relative. The blood can then lie quiet. Ruth is also the go’el . She doesn’t kill, but marries the cousin of her dead husband and in so doing redeems the line of her dead husband. God is called go’el in 2nd Isaiah – Redeemer. In this text God comforts his people – he will not let their blood disappear. Job was probably written after 2nd Isaiah and there is the possibility that the idea of a redeemer may have been seeded in the mind of the author from that text. Here in Job, with his relentless defense of innocence against the mob, and with God siding with the mob - the Redeemer suddenly appears. Someone will stand upon the earth to defend the scapegoat.


The book of Job ends with Job’s response to God’s justification speeches. “See, I am of small account; what shall I answer you? I lay my hand on my mouth” 40:3-6. “I despise myself and repent in dust and ashes” (42:1-6). The irony and sarcasm of the earlier chapters appears to be closed down in the final frame of the story and it is usually interpreted as Job’s confession for doubting God. The Hebrew is actually better translated as “I reject and regret dust and ashes”. (See note in New Interpreters Study Bible). If read this way the preceding verses retain their irony and the sense of “But now my eyes see you” becomes instead “I see through you”.


Job’s wealth is restored and now it is his friends who are on the receiving end of God’s wrath. "For you have not spoken of me what is right, as my servant Job has" (42:7).Thus the frame story tells us, amazingly, Job is in the right! Moreover, Job now prays for his friends to God – adopting the role of the redeemer. The book of Job shows us that the truth lies with Job and his pathway.


It is a perfect example of the "(re)reading" the bible, of the bible re-reading itself, revealing the underlying flaws of the Deuteronomic understanding of God. Jesus later assumes the mantle of Job – both as innocent victim and as redeemer. He asserts that God is not a God of violence that sends punishment to the bad and good indiscriminately– rather God sends his rain to fall on the good and bad alike without reservation, without expectation – as pure grace.


(Re) Reading #3 Genesis Part I ( 04/15/11)

Genesis is a rich field for re-reading the bible. In fact the book of Genesis--if you look at it attentively--announces itself as a re-reading, and shows itself all the way through as re-reading.

Thinking about the construction of the Torah (the first five books of the bible) we should ask why the scribes put Genesis before Exodus. Of course, yes, it's about beginnings, what comes first. But what are the themes at work? In Exodus and following books there is no question that God uses violence and that the violence is righteous. But Genesis from the get-go sees violence as human and intensely problematic. The initial creation work of God is entirely without violence and when God resorts to violence (cursing the ground/sending the flood) he decides afterward never to do that stuff again! (8: 21) God re-reads Godself! And the reader is put on alert that the violence in subsequent books of the bible is seriously open to question (needing to be re-read, from "the beginning".)

"Genesis" means beginning, but also "generation". It is about the "generations" of the earth, the various ways in which the human space and human beings get put in place. The seven days are "generations" (2:4) just the same as Cain and Seth born of Adam and Eve, and their descendants, are "generations" (5:1, same word). The book is talking about generativity (the way things get put in place), as much as the fact of their beginning. In short there are two broad concepts or styles of generation: the one described by the "Priestly writer" (the text using the name God/El and picturing the divine as "other" to violence) and the one described by the "Yahwist writer" (text using Yahweh/Lord as name and picturing the divine in very human terms, prepared to use violence, and yet open to change).

If we fail to read these very evident concerns and tensions in the text--the way it is struggling hugely with the question of violence--then we are not really reading it intelligently, with its own intelligence. Instead we read it like a fairy tale, with no meaning except "weird stuff happens".

Genesis chapters 1-11 consists of the prologue (seven day creation) and five prehistories (Adam and Eve, Cain and Abel, Sons of God and the Daughters of Men, the Flood, Tower of Babel), along with genealogies, lists of generations). It all sets up the introduction of Abraham, the single individual who would trust God completely and in whom "all the families of the earth shall be blessed" (12:3), the one who promises a solution to the human situation. The question then is always "What is the nature of the human situation to which Abraham offers a solution?"

In church teaching from Ambrose and Augustine onward the problem has been strictly legal in nature. Our first parents disobeyed a rule given by God and now they and their descendants must suffer the consequent punishment. In time, however, Christ came and offered a way out, a legal satisfaction or compensation for sin for the sake of "salvation"... But this is a very narrow reading of the book of Genesis. Certainly the Lord makes rules in the Garden of Eden but the key issue is not the rule but the rivalry-with-God that underlies rule-breaking. And even more crucially this rivalry with God cannot be read in distinction from rivalry between human beings. The story of the Garden of Eden cannot be read in isolation from the other prehistories, especially the one immediately after, that of Cain and Abel. (The old legal reading sees these other stories as simply subsequent effects of a "fallen nature" and not first-hand descriptions of primordial human condition.)

Reading carefully the story of Cain and Abel we can see at once it is crafted as a doublet of the Garden story. In other words it is the selfsame story told over from a slightly different perspective, one that illuminates the first. The evidence of this is overwhelming and once it is accepted it throws a startling new light on the basic issue with which Genesis is dealing. Here are at least eight points in which the two stories repeat the same motifs and features, and in ways that are not duplicated elsewhere in Genesis

These are the only stories in the Bible where God speaks so familiarly with human characters (with exception perhaps of the book of Jonah). "Who told you you were naked?" "Where is your brother?" Both stories share a sensation that God is a protagonist only a little removed in life-setting and character from his human creatures who in some measure appear as his counterparts.

In both stories there is a sequence of individual crime and punishment (eating fruit/killing brother, expulsion from Eden/from ground and the face of God). As evident in both cases the core of the punishment is a double alienation: from blessings of the earth/from assured company of God.

In both stories there is mitigation: God softens the punishment and gets newly involved.. He clothes Adam and Eve at 3:21. Even more significantly he puts a protective mark on Cain 4:15. God in fact is seen as caught up in human culture, in ways that seek to soften and control the violence that has entered human life.

In both cases desire is a pivotal element, mentioned by name (3:6, 16; 4:7).

In both cases the desire is plainly mediated, i.e. it is provoked by a third party. The serpent (the most cunning of the beasts created by God) suggests to Eve the desirability of the fruit (the opening of her eyes, 3:5). In 4:4-5 it is God who is the agent of desire, arbitrarily preferring Abel's offering to Cain's, setting up the jealousy between them. Even God's words at 4:6-7 could be construed as provocative, challenging Cain rather than offering him a concrete way out.

In both cases the actual object of desire is possession of what might be called "divine rights". With Eve and Adam it is equality with God, through moral freedom. With Cain it is God's preferential favor (which in fact Cain then obtains for all practical purposes).

Rivalry with God for God is therefore the central motif of both stories. Rivalry between humans is shown to be an aspect of the former. Cain kills Abel in order to have exclusive rights to God!

Death is the result of the rivalry with God. God threatens it at 3:3, but in fact Adam and Eve do not die. (Rather Adam lives an extremely long time, almost a thousand years--5:5!) It is Cain who introduces the first death, uniting the two stories in an outcome that is systemic--desire, rivalry, violence--rather than legal.

Far from Genesis showing the legal consequence of "original sin" God reverses key aspects of the punishment. As we see he continues to accompany humanity, reaching toward the intimate relationship with Abraham, and he promises never again to curse the ground (8:21). The real picture of our human condition that emerges from Genesis is systemic than legal. And the picture of God is of a figure both provoking desire in his creatures and seeking to undo the violence this precipitates among them.




(Re)Reading #4 Genesis Part II (4/29/11)


We have seen how Genesis offers us a dramatically unfolding story not a legal docket. To take this intra-textual (the drama-in-the-text!) approach does not deny the inspired character of the text, rather it demonstrates it more powerfully. In contrast reading Genesis as a legal constitution in which an "original sin" implicates all humanity in its punishment does not change our human frame of reference. God becomes the most possessive and conflicted monarch ever, insanely reactive when his citizens exercise the freedom that he prompts in them in the first place! It means God is just humanity writ very large, and can only lead to atheism...

But if we see the story attempting to describe desire and its exercise which from the start sets itself up against God, but which God also creatively wills as the necessary process by which humans become humans, then everything becomes much more persuasive. In this case it is God who is at least as much at risk as humanity. And the prehistories hint at this, showing a very human sense of apprehension in God who takes a variety of defensive measures against his creatures. (In respect of the tree of life, 3:22-23, and the Tower of Babel "nothing will become impossible for them", 11:6-7.)

As already pointed out this kind of description of God belongs to the Yahwist writer and to grasp that there are at least two writers or voices running through the editorial composition of Genesis is at once a crucial event of "re-reading". It means the bible itself works on the assumption that one "angelic" voice cannot quite give us "revelation", because there is something at stake here which exceeds any single framework. And if someone might say this is just fancy highfalutin lit.crit. directed at sacred text which cannot be treated that way, what about the fact the bible as a whole clearly has multiple authors? Why are there two versions of the ten commandments? Why are there two histories of the kings (Kings and Chronicles)? Why are there four gospels? It's obvious the bible accepts in principle that the same story can be told from more than one perspective. In this light the two voices in Genesis simply show the same principle working in the creation of a "single" text. And to tease out those voices becomes critical part of understanding how revelation precisely exceeds one mono-linear meaning. Communicating a whole new dimension cannot be mono-linear because it takes at least three lines to create depth!

For example, there are two accounts of the flood, one from the Priestly writer, one from the Yahwist. At 7.2 God tells Noah to take seven pairs of clean animals and only one pair of unclean animals into the ark. But at 7:8-9 God commands only one pair of all animals, regardless of whether they are clean or unclean. Why? Because for theYahwist sacrifice and meat-eating already exist (so the clean animals need to be in small herds, for those purposes.) But for the Priestly writer meat-eating only begins after the flood (9:3) and sacrifice only with the covenant at Mt. Sinai. The presence of these two versions side by side--like a split-screen movie with two different pictures of what is going on--is blatantly obvious and it must mean something!

It means that shedding blood is a hugely significant issue, enough to confuse the plotline significantly, and to be left just like that, out in the open. The Yahwist (and therefore the final editor who includes this writer) recognizes that there really is no humanity without sacrifice and killing, and that is why it's got to be there from the get-go. (Abel, the very first generation after creation, offers blood sacrifice without being commanded, 4:4; and then of course Cain kills Abel.) But the Priestly author feels the deep anomaly of spilling the life God has given in creation, and so deliberately excludes it from beginnings. And the editor leaves this in because this "second opinion" is also a core part of revelation. There is a huge built-in tension around killing, and it's that which is being revealed. Meat-eating is then introduced after the flood as a concession, and only so long as the blood is not consumed--a clear attempt to deflect from the mind of the meat-eater the felt reality of killing. In addition the Priestly writer then establishes a law requiring exact reciprocal killing for murder (9:5-6)--a fundamental rule to narrow the response to violence to mechanical equality, and prevent the escalation as in the case of Cain (sevenfold vengeance) and the virtual genocide demanded by Lamech (4:24).

The concern of the Priestly writer to show God is "other from violence" is given its greatest platform in the very first chapter of Genesis, in the seven day creation account. Chapter 1.1 to 2.4 displays a unique sense of God creating without a battle against darkness or chaos or any other kind of violence. The result is a created space overflowing with goodness and life, the absence of all harm. The succession of days culminating in rest by God and blessing for the seventh day suggests that the earth is destined temporally for the enjoyment of perfect peace.

The placing of this prologue before the more "human" Yahwist account of God presented in the Garden of Eden and Cain and Abel stories gives a distinct priority to the nonviolence of God and sets the tone for the whole of Genesis, and indeed the whole of the bible. The priority of this account gains even more meaning when it is set against the background of alternative stories of creation available in the classic Hebrew culture. For example, Isaiah 51:9-11 and Job 26:12 both mention the tradition of a primordial battle by God against a sea serpent or beast, a mythic account shared with other cultures of the ancient near east. Second Isaiah and Job date from the time of the exile or later, proving that the text of Genesis 1 stood in contrast to violent stories of creation well accepted in the middle to late biblical period. In other words the Priestly version must be seen as a decisive re-reading that established itself progressively during this time, finally becoming the norm. There could hardly be a stronger case for the way the bible is a continual re-reading of itself, above all in relation to violence.

The more we read Genesis in this way the more we see it as a workshop of deep inquiry about the character and role of violence in relation to the meaning of both humanity and God. And the fact that this laboratory is present right at the beginning of the bible should tell us that these are absolutely key questions being posed by biblical revelation and faith.



(Re)Reading #5 Genesis Part III ( 5/6/11)

We continue to (re)read the first book of the bible, understanding it as a bedrock meditation on the human issue of violence. God is inevitably framed in and around that question. What do you do if you're a God of life and justice and your human creatures turn to killing? Well, you can punish them, but doesn't that just encourage them further, like the example of a violent parent? What is desperately needed is a set of different models, and that's exactly what Genesis strives to give us. (Re)reading Genesis takes us away from a mechanical account of "the fall", and God's successive covenants which will ultimately work out as "salvation". Its truth is much more radical, showing us an underlying generative anthropology opening up and transforming the question of humanity itself.

From chapter twelve onward Genesis is the story of Abraham and of Abraham's grandson, Jacob. These two patriarchs are the major protagonists of the book (Isaac is little more than a bridging figure); furthermore the greater proportion of these chapters (twenty five to fifty) is taken up with the saga of Jacob and his sons. It is true, of course, that the covenant with Abraham and his descendants is a major structural feature, the narrative and conceptual hinge of the book, but it is equally evident that the underlying drama of the story is rooted in the problem of violence. And this deep concern has a double generative aspect. First, the figure of Abraham struggles with the violence of God, and then Jacob is the epicenter of a constant tremblor of human violence which finally finds resolution in forgiveness.

Abraham in chapter 18 seeks to bargain God into not wiping out Sodom and Gomorrah. This is hugely significant. God concedes that he has to inform Abraham of his intentions, because he has chosen him so that "all the nations of the earth shall be blessed in him" (i.e. including necessarily the most evil; 18:18). Abraham fulfills his role to perfection, intruding into the story the principle of the innocent caught up in the fury of collective punishment ("Far be it from you to slay the righteous with the wicked..." 18:25). But then, in a crucial biblical moment, this principle is transformed in the text into something else, still more positive--the possibility the innocent will act as a protection for the guilty. Abraham gets God to agree to spare the wicked for the sake of a remnant of the righteous. God agrees; he will not destroy Sodom "for the sake of ten righteous" (18:32).

Justice needs to be done--the evil in the earth cannot be allowed simply to continue their evil. Who would not agree? However, in the process the innocent are inevitably swept up by the broad brush of justice. But then, like the bursting of a meteor in a dark night, it seems God will in fact simply spare the wicked from violent punishment for the sake of the just. (It should be emphasized this is not any sort of exchange, as in Christian thinking, the righteous punished for the wicked. It is simply the righteous deflect or neutralize "divine violence" itself.)

In the case of Sodom the Lord manages to get everything mathematically right, fulfilling retributive justice while letting the one righteous man, Lot, and his family, escape from the city, before raining down sulfur and fire. But Abraham's insistence on the possibility of forgiveness for the sake of a few individuals clearly suggests the general indiscriminate character of violence and the need to forestall it. Even more significantly it is Abraham, not God, who introduces the principle of discrimination and then the effective pardon of the wicked for the sake of the just. In other words, here in Genesis the path to human salvation lies through a human being effectively learning and promoting the practice of compassionate nonviolence, and, because of this, God is willing to do the same!

The story of Jacob and Esau returns us to the human scene with a vengeance... Esau has every reason (and right) to kill Jacob who has stolen his inheritance and very identity (27:36, 42). Jacob flees for his life, but then after twenty years the time comes for him to return and he fears intensely Esau's violence. He sets up an elaborate show of gifts and respect to appease his brother (32:13-20; 33:1-3). In the meantime he has an encounter with God in which he wrestles with the divine figure but God does not destroy him. Jacob says "I have seen God face to face, and yet my life is preserved" (32:30). The God that Jacob meets is precisely one who will not overcome him with superior force, who does not win violently. The message is directly confirmed in the following story when Esau comes to meet Jacob, embracing and kissing him and offering him none of the expected violence. In the dialogue Jacob then says "Truly to see you is like seeing the face of God--since you have received me with such favor" (33:10). Jacob should know: he has just discovered that God 's face or person is defined by non-conquest. Esau's "favor"--read nonviolence--is a precise mirror-image of this. The twining of God's gentleness and Esau's forgiveness is a triumph of biblical narrative.

In the encounter with God Jacob was given the name "Israel" meaning "the one who strives with God" or "God strives". The narrator interprets, saying Jacob has "striven with God and with humans and prevailed" (32:28), but hidden in Jacob's apparent victory is the deep nonviolence of the God of Israel revealed in this episode. It is that by which Jacob "wins" and is surely the wound which Jacob takes away from the encounter (32:25) and the whole of biblical revelation with him.

The story of Joseph is one of the best known in the bible, a tale of fraternal jealousy, attempted murder, slavery, lust, dreams and a great reversal. Joseph is the final and true hero of Genesis. His brothers intend to kill him out of jealousy because of preferential treatment from his father (basically the same scenario for which Cain killed Abel). Because of the intervention of Judah he is sold into slavery, the next best thing to killing him. As we know Joseph eventually rises to the pinnacle of power but that is only a stepping stone to the true reversal of the story.

In the time of famine his brothers come to Egypt seeking food and Joseph engages in an elaborate pantomime, stretching over a considerable space of time, to bring them progressively to a duplicate of the situation in which he was abandoned by them and thereby an intimate knowledge of their crime. This time it is Benjamin, his full brother, who is threatened with descent into the pit, but now in contrast Judah steps forward and volunteers to take his place in order to protect him. Joseph can bear it no longer and reveals his identity. The brothers are terrified but Joseph tells them not to be angry with themselves for what they had done, rather to see it as the working of God's purpose: "God sent me before you to preserve life..." (45:5)
In the story Joseph weeps four times when encountering his brothers in Egypt (42:24, 43:30, 45:2, 50:17). The first two times he does it in private, apart from them, the other times in their presence. The final time is after Jacob's death when the brothers, still wary of Joseph, try to get him to say he forgives them because Jacob had made a deathbed request that he should do so. Joseph weeps and on this occasion, for the first time, the brothers weep too. They have gone from murderous jealousy, to fear and remorse, to empathy, to something approaching sorrow. Joseph speaks to them kindly saying "Do not be afraid! Am I in the place of God?" (50:19). He again assures them that all this was intended by God for good.

The story demonstrates a genuine human process coming to a final point of bodily compassion for and with the victim (the brothers weep when they see Joseph weeping) and in a few ironic words suggests that human forgiveness is a much better way than divine revenge. The God that Joseph is talking about does not in fact look for revenge but rather finds a way to turn the harm to good.

The book of Genesis concludes, therefore, with a brilliant account of a new generative pathway in human life, the only one that can assure God's purpose of life. Surely the demonstration of this pathway is at least as much "Torah" (law and teaching) as any formal relationship of covenant.



(Re)reading #6 Exodus To Jonah (5/13/11)

This bible study is pretty easy to report: it consisted in some of the most horrific readings in the Scriptures! We looked at passages where punitive violence against Israel seems to be a part of the divine s.o.p. and character, or where God directly orders the most extreme violence against Israel's enemies.

Why do this study? Why put ourselves through the scandal and shock of these readings?

Well, first of all, they're there, in the bible. If you're honestly reading the bible you have to read these scriptures. Secondly, you have to ask, why in fact are they in the bible? If the bible is divine Revelation what is the meaning of these texts? (Re)reading the bible has to come to grips with these passages. Can bible (re)reading help us get a handle on them?

Deuteronomy 28 15-68 gives us the terrible sequence of curses invoked by the Lord should Israel fail to keep the law. They form the antithesis to the prior (shorter) list of blessings promised if Israel is faithful. The two alternatives, curse and blessing, make up the classic Deuteronomic viewpoint: do well and good things will come your way, do evil and bad things will happen. We think at once of the book of Job's subversion of this viewpoint (bad stuff happening to a man who is innocent...), but Deuteronomy's simple math provided the central architecture of the biblical thought world all the way to New Testament times, and beyond. So the question remains: what sort of a God would threaten this?

...You shall become an object of horror to all the kingdoms of the earth. Your corpses shall be food for every bird of the air and animal of the earth, and there shall be no one to frighten them away. The Lord will afflict you with the boils of Egypt, with ulcers, scurvy and itch, of which you cannot be healed. The Lord will afflict you with madness, blindness and confusions of mind...

One way to look at it is to consider that the standard human reaction for bad things happening in a group is to find someone to blame, an odd-one-out or a stranger or foreigner, someone to be identified as the culprit. If there was a plague in Thebes it was because someone had offended the gods and, sure enough, they found it was the king, Oedipus. Here in Deuteronomy, relentlessly, the blame rests with the people themselves, under the judgment of the Lord. They cannot scapegoat others for the bad things that are happening, because they are the ones responsible. Even though the message is harsh, and can easily lead to a religion of guilt and fear on the one hand, and a God of violence on the other, it does at least have the value of taking ownership and possibly repenting: I am not permitted to get rid of my responsibility by blaming others.

No such possible justification exists for the next couple of passages. Numbers 25:6-15 tells of a Midianite woman brought into the camp by an Israelite named Zimri. The context is a plague afflicting the Israelites and its cause identified as the ritual and sexual relations of the Israelites with the women of the region and thus a "yoking" to their god, Baal of Peor. One of the Israelites named Phineas spears Zimri and the woman, called Cozbi, through the belly in their tent, and the plague is stopped.. No one today would begin to believe that these two were personally responsible for the plague virus, unless it happened by the decision and causation of God. In other words the primitive sense that plague is brought on directly by some human crime is preserved in the framework of a God of judgment and primary causality who acts to discipline his people by "sending the plague".

It's possible that in such a framework we might think, well, it was right for "God" to do this, because Zimri and the woman were bringing idolatry into the camp and threatening the Israelite religion itself. In other words we could turn a blind eye to the violence. But in the next story it is absolutely impossible to do so.

At Numbers 31:1-20 Moses commands the genocide of the Midianites in retaliation for their corruption of the Israelites just described And he does so on a direct order from the Lord. Every male is to be killed and all females who have had sexual relations with the Midianite men. The only ones preserved are the young girls who have not slept with a man, and so can be integrated ethnically to the Israelites. It is impossible to conceive of this as the work of a God of justice, let alone the God of Jesus. In which case we are driven to the conclusion that this is not in fact the God of biblical revelation but a "god"of human construction: a god generated through violence, and in this case the intense violence of a religious revolution. Moses orders the killing in order to preserve and strengthen the Yahwist religion, but he does so using archaic violence as the generative mechanism.

This (re)reading takes revelation of theology out of the text, leaving the text as revelation of anthropology. We are justified in doing this by the canon of the bible itself, taken as a whole. The book of Jonah demonstrates with acid precision the mechanism of finding an individual who is the guilty one, responsible for a natural disaster. The pagan sailors "know" that someone has done some evil as the cause of the storm and yet they strive might and main not to have to kill Jonah. At the same time Jonah's ready offering of himself as the guilty one is motivated not by honesty, but by resentment and anger.

The point then of the story is that God, who is the one who sends the storm, does not remain on the level of this kind of appeasement or punishment. He acts from within the ocean to save Jonah from his own violence, and thereby the sailors too. Further, God's actions to save Jonah are one with his willingness to pardon the Ninevites who repent of their violence at the preaching of Jonah. In other words the story subverts the whole work of violence at every level--both its generative power to return the world to order by driving out the evil thing, and then its evident oppressive imperial character.

The turning point of the story is Jonah's prayer from the belly of the fish. This has the effect of redeeming the "guilty victim" supposedly underlying natural disaster, and thereby undoing the whole phoney construct of group violence on which the world order is founded. The book of Jonah doesn't say so explicitly but the repentance of the Ninevites flows from Jonah's prayer in which the guilty victim finds deliverance and life in the depths of death. They are set free from the work of violence because Jonah is set free. After Jonah's deliverance it makes complete sense the Ninevites would repent!

The book of Jonah is, therefore, an absolutely crucial (re)reading of the stories of divine violence we were reading. It shows God reversing God's role in collective human violence against the scapegoat. Rather than accepting this violence (to stop the plague, to purify the people) God works to undo it at its core, and so set everyone free from the endless mystifications of violence. Of course this (re)reading by the prophecy of Jonah could not become dominant unless Jesus had chosen the sign of Jonah as his own and followed its pathway in definitive terms. But our study has shown that it was already well underway in the Hebrew scriptures, and Jesus could not have taken his pathway unless it had been first prepared for him there.



(Re)reading the Bible #7 Temple (05/20/11)

The Book of Exodus, which tells of the liberation of the Hebrews from Egypt, the giving of the commandments and the establishment of the code of the covenant, also devotes eleven whole chapters to a description of the wilderness tabernacle. The architectural design of this tabernacle (another word for tent, later associated by implication with sanctuary and temple) is set out in some detail. The description is found in chapters 25-31, then repeated again in the account of its construction at Chapters 35-40.

Commentators say that it is highly unlikely that a people newly escaped from oppression and poverty would have had the means and ability to create and transport a tabernacle of such opulence and proportions. Therefore it is likely that what is described is an idealized desert sanctuary. It describes an outer tent and an inner tent with a holy of holies, a design that mirrors the later stone temple built under Solomon. It is a retrojection of the later temple onto the desert period.

33:7-11 describes another tent. The word for tent used here is different. This one is outside the camp (the Tabernacle was always placed in the center of the camp). This tent is called the tent of meeting. It is a tent of divination – a small sacred space, rather like a shamanistic cabin, where Moses communes with God. The passage also describes a different worship practice. The people worship in their own tents, not in this tent or in any other separate sanctuary. Only Moses and Joshua enter the tent of meeting. The likelihood is that this is a more authentic account for a nomadic people.

Amos, one of the earlier prophets, lived in the 8th century BCE. He wrote when the Temple tradition had been established for about 200 years. While the events the writes about are later than those of Exodus, it was actually written earlier than the book of Exodus. Exodus was compiled a couple of centuries later in the 6th century BCE). Amos is therefore closer to the actual events of the exodus. Amos 5:21-25 demonstrates his disdain and rejection of the Temple. God despises the festivals and takes no delight in solemn assemblies. God does not want burnt offerings – instead he seeks justice and righteousness. In v.25 God asks the rhetorical question “Did you bring to me sacrifices and offerings the forty years in the wilderness, O house of Israel?” Amos implies that during the Exodus period there was in fact no established ritualized sacrifice. This came later with the establishment of the temple by Solomon. (In fact it stands to reason that a refugee group needing to eat manna and quail did not have cattle from which to select the sacrifice.)

2 Sam 7:1-13 describes yet another tent – this one housing the arc of the covenant (v.2). David, the great warrior king who established the Κingdom is contemplating building God a temple. God, however, responds through the prophet Nathan: “Are you the one to build me a house to live in? I have not lived in a house since the day I brought up the people of Israel from Egypt to this day, but I have been moving about in a tent and a tabernacle”. Nathan tells David that God will make him a house (a dynasty) but David should hold off building God a temple. The temple will be built by his offspring. In this way the text tries to balance the tension that arises from two conflicting strands present in the Old Testament - the establishment of the temple cult and the historical and prophetic witness against it.

Chronicles, written from the priestly perspective, re-tells the story. Here the reason that David does not build the temple is because of his violent past. The Temple is not to be contaminated by unholy blood. The priestly perspective is concerned with ritual holiness.

In 1 Samuel 24:10-25 David, at the end of his reign, orders a census. The primary purpose of a census is for taxation, conscription and establishing an empire. This act so displeases God that he punishes David – but gives him the choice of punishment. He opts for three days of pestilence. At the end of the three days David erects an altar on the threshing floor of land he has just purchased. On this site he has seen a vision of the angel of death and he is hoping, through burnt offering, to avert further catastrophic plague. This plot of land is the same one on which Solomon later builds his temple. Although he does not actually build the temple, David establishes the holy ground.

The establishment of the Temple finds its roots in the establishment of empire. There is a need for temple sacrifice once imperial forces come into play. The reasons are many – for centralization of power; for display; for the displacement of the greatly increased forces of violence. Sacrifice and temple are integral to the heart of worldly power.

Sacrifice obviously existed before the Temple, but was not an established hierarchical event. Rather it was normally apotropeic and spontaneous – an act of warding off evil. The Passover sacrifice is an example of this. The blood on the door lintel acts as a protection against the angel of death. In contrast the heart of the prophetic tradition was that God communicated directly through the prophets. The people existed under the overarching care of God and called to practice justice and mercy under the covenant of the Lord.

Third Isaiah (who lived towards the end of the prophetic period, after the return from Exile) gives a thorough rejection of sacrifice. (Is 66:1-3). Cultic practices are equated with violent, impure, idolatrous acts. The whole world is God’s house, so how is it possible to build God a temple?

Jesus rejects all forms of sacrifice. He equates people to sheep – the primary sacrificial animal. As the good shepherd, he sets the sheep free. In Mk 11:15-19 Jesus clears the Temple. After he overturns the tables of the money changers and disrupts the purchasing of sacrificial animals “he would not allow anyone to carry anything through the temple” (v16). The word for “anything” is actually “vessel” (skeuos). In 1Κings 7:45, 47-48 and 51 this same word is used to describe the vessels used for carrying all sacrificial materials. Jesus comprehensively stops the flow of offerings and the paraphernalia of sacrifice.




(Re)reading the Bible #8 Jeremiah (05/27/11)

Jeremiah stands at a pivotal moment in the Bible. The prophecy demonstrates the absolute centrality of the events of the 6th century BCE. This was a time of global spiritual growth: the time of Confucius, the Buddha and the Jewish Exile - the central landmark of the Bible. Solomon had established the temple shortly after the formation of the kingdom. The priests and the Temple helped establish and validate the power of the monarch. This is how culture works – largely benefiting the powerful. God, however, is working to overcome culture. In Israel, the Temple and state were overthrown in the 6th century BCE.

Jeremiah 7: 1-4 presents Jeremiah’s first prophesy against the Temple. He says the Temple is an institution that will be destroyed. “Do not trust in these deceptive words ‘This is the temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord’”. Jeremiah mocks those who take pride in the temple.

In Jer 26:1-16 the story is retold. Here the account is placed specifically in the reign of Jehoiakim, son of Josiah of Judah. This dates the prophecy to 609BCE. Jeremiah predicts the destruction of the temple and of Jerusalem. The two are integrally connected. As long as the temple stands so does the city. “I will make this house like Shiloh, and I will make this city a curse for all the nations of the earth”. (Shiloh was a holy place 7-8 miles outside of Jerusalem destroyed by the Philistines. In Jeremiah’s time it would have been a heap of ruins).

The prophesy comes true. Jer 39:1-18 describes the fall of Jerusalem under the reign of Jehoiakim’s son, Zedekiah. The passage is not just recounting historical events. It is also prophesy and enactment. The fall of Jerusalem becomes a part of the sign system of loss that is being developed. The Babylonians (Chaldeons) entered the gate and slaughtered the sons of the king Zedekiah. They then blinded him and exiled him along with most of his court. Jeremiah was confined but not injured. His life is spared, in large part because he has advocated surrender. The fall of Jerusalem is repeated at the end of book of Κings, again as prophetic fulfillment (2 Κings 24: 18-19): “(Zedekiah) did what was evil in the sight of the Lord, just as Jehoiakim had done. Indeed Jerusalem and Judah so angered the Lord that he expelled them from his presence.”

Judges through 2 Κings are known as the historical books by Christians, The Hebrew Bible calls them the “Earlier Prophets.” They are prophetic because from the moment the monarchy is instituted these books record the downhill spiral towards exile. The "early prophets" therefore fulfill the prophesy of Moses in Deuteronomy – that if the people follow the Law then they will receive blessings, but if they disregard the Law then things will not go so well. The Lord demands fairness and justice. The early prophets tell of the the king's (the people's leaders) predilection for idolatry and injustice. Prophesy is not about prognostication or portents, it is about transforming human behavior. By reflecting on the past, lessons are learned that can translate into the present and predict the future based on present actions.

After the king, court and key administrative and military personnel have been taken away to Babylon, Jeremiah stays behind in the ruined city. He then joins a group who decamp to Egypt – and it is there, as the tradition goes, he is killed by them. In Jer 29:1-23 is Jeremiah’s letter from Jerusalem to the exiles in Babylon. He tells them to forget Jerusalem and to get used to Babylon. He exhorts the people to make a life there - build homes, plant gardens and build families. They are to ignore any one advocating rebellion and an early return. He prophesies that it will be 70 years (two full generations) before the Lord will bring them back – after the present generation has passed away.

Exile is when you lose what you love, what you would fight for. It is the loss of your culture, your temple and your way of life. Jerusalem had come to represent all of these things and had been idolized as such. Neitzsche talked of “depth” in people, a greater or deeper level of self associated with the will. The situation of the exile created depth in Judaism in the bible – but in this case one that came from suffering and loss. The richness of the Exile was that it created an empty space that allowed the people freedom to enter into a deeper relationship with the Lord. Deprived of the physical objects of their status as a people they could enter a place of absolute trust, hope and love. As the Janis Joplin lyric goes “Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose”.

Out of this space, this freedom comes Jeremiah’s most beautiful prophesy (Jeremiah 31:27-34). It is his prophesy of the new covenant, the law written not on stone but on the human heart. The law is no longer about punishment but instead becomes part of your heart, your inner meaning. This re-writing can only come when all the other stuff is taken away. Dispossession allows space for love. In fact it creates the heart, the place and possibility of relationship in the absence of physical possession. A relationship emerges of inestimable worth. This is God’s will – that the people begin to relate not to what they have but what they do not have – to a promise, to hope, to the other.



(Re)reading the Bible #9 Isaiah

(This is a summary of the last two Bible studies from June 17th and June 24th – both on Isaiah. Apologies for the delay and disruption. This has been a bit of a crazy summer so far – with wedding celebrations, naturalization, funerals, conferences and international trips all playing their part in interrupting the flow. Hopefully we will soon be back on track… Linda)


From chapter 40 Isaiah is the prophet of the return from exile – his message is one of comfort and hope. He is a counterpoint to Jeremiah who created new possibilities of spiritual relationship in the face of impending loss. Isaiah also finds God in the midst of social disorientation. The exiles return to a situation without king, army or temple – institutions that had been closely associated with God – stamped with divine validation and authority. The people are now in a situation of powerlessness and weakness. Isaiah’s message is of weakness, love and reconciliation within this context. He writes with a growing recognition of the compassion and gentleness of God.

Isaiah 54:4-8 describes God’s people as a shamed and forsaken wife now being brought back into relationship. “I hid my face from you, but with everlasting love I will have compassion on you, says the Lord, your Redeemer”. Here the figure of the redeemer (the “goel”) is introduced. The “goel” was a familiar role in Hebrew culture of that time -usually a family member who stepped in to restore life. If someone was unjustly killed, the goel would exact revenge or retribution. If a man died his brother might marry his widow to save his brother’s family from ruin. Ruth acts as goel when she follows Naomi to the land of her ancestors and agrees to marry her kinsman. In so doing she provides protection to Naomi and preserves her family line. Here in Isaiah, God becomes the goel, the redeemer, the restorer of life. Isaiah announces a new relationship that extends beyond the privileged relationship he shared with single key figures in the past like Moses and David. Here the relationship embraces all of the people. Isaiah uses the word “love” to describe the relationship between God and his people – a term that is now enriched by the new depth and sensitivity of the relationship where the conditions of power and violence have been removed.

In Is 40:1-11 a new biblical voice is introduced. It has a new tonality – of tenderness, gentleness and comfort. This is evident in both the words and the images used. An especially key figure emerges in 2nd Isaiah – that of the Servant. There are four Servant songs describing this individual. The study of this figure as the “Suffering Servant” grew prominent in the 19th century. Perhaps a more accurate, less passive term would be “the Non-violent Servant”. The second and third songs are written in the first person, the first and fourth in the third person.

The identity of the servant has been a matter for scholarly debate. He has been identified with the idealized nation of Israel--“you are my servant, Israel, in whom I will be glorified” (49:3). However, the passages where the song is written in the first person strongly imply a single individual with an identity separate from Israel. For example, “And now the Lord says, who formed me in the womb to be his servant, to bring Jacob back to him” (49:5). Moreover, in this instance, the servant is seen as distinct from the people (Jacob). This individual, formed in the womb to do God’s will, brings to mind Jeremiah, a prophet. The Servant could therefore also refer to the prophet (2nd Isaiah) who wrote these passages. This individual has gained insight through the suffering of the people and through personal suffering. He understands that the loss of power has created a new opportunity. That it is the way that the people, and in fact the whole world, can turn to God.

The four songs are linked, not only by the central figure of the Servant, but also by the theme of escalating violence. The first three songs anticipate the violence that climaxes in the 4th song. The songs not only have a shared protagonist and common content, they also directly refer to each other. The commentary of the second song is actually a response to the servant in the 4th song : “one deeply despised, abhorred by the nations” (49:7) - compare with 52:15 and 53:3. There is therefore a descriptive unity within the text. Another example is the start of the second song “Listen to me, O coastlands, pay attention, you peoples from far away” (49:1) which refers back to the first song where “the coastlands wait for his teaching” (42:4).

Following each of the first three songs there is a short commentary:
1st Song: 42:1-4 Commentary 42:5-7
2nd Song: 49:1-6 Commentary 49:7
3rd Song: 50:4-9 Commentary 50:10-11
4th Song: 52:13-53:12

In the first song this commentary is flagged by the words “Thus says the Lord”. It marks a shift from description to an oracle voice that addresses the Servant directly. The commentary of the third song shifts to a second voice exhorting the people, the audience of the song, to pay attention to what has been said.

The 4th Song 53:1-11 is written in the first person pleural. It is a “we” section representing another change of voice. The song refers to a third party – to the Servant. Here, the mob implied in the other songs, especially the third, finds its voice. The crowd has changed their perceptions of the Servant. He was ugly, despised and of no account – “we accounted him stricken, struck down by God, and afflicted” (53:4). They had thought he had offended God and that God had turned against him. Now they understand that he was wounded for them. This is not substitutionary atonement. He was not punished in our place, but punished "for" our sins. The “for” here is understood as “because of” or "in relation to" rather than “in place of”. He accepted the violence/punishment in order to bring us to a different place, to teach us and change us. The Servant is the Lord’s choice for this task “the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all” (v6). He is only able to do this because the Lord has chosen him precisely for this purpose, taking the burden of humanity in order to transform it. It is not an accident of suffering but something taken on and accepted by the Servant.

In the third song (50:4) the Servant is described as both disciple and teacher “The Lord God has given me the tongue of a teacher, that I may know how to sustain the weary with a word. Morning by morning he wakens – wakens my ear to listen as those who are taught”.
53:11 speaks of the Servant. “Out of his anguish he shall see light; he shall find satisfaction through his knowledge”. This is followed by: "The righteous one, my servant, shall make many righteous." The period does not exist in the original and is an editorial addition for sense. Without it the first sentence could end at "satisfaction" and then the text would continue “Through his knowledge the righteous one, my servant, shall make many righteous”. This changes the meaning from punishment and satisfaction to knowledge and revelation. I.e. this knowledge is non-violent non-retaliatory love, a breakthrough in human meaning. Indeed if righteousness is understood as non-violence, then this passage has a coherent transformative meaning: “The righteous one, my servant, shall make many righteous” (53:12) becomes “The non-violent one my servant, shall make many non-violent”.

Jesus was familiar with these texts – “I gave my back to those who struck me, and my cheeks to those who pulled out my beard” reminds us of his teaching about turning the other cheek. The Servant songs, probably more than any other Old Testament text, lie at the heart of Jesus’ self-identity and teaching.



Re-reading the Bible #10. Colossians


Capping off the Re-reading series we take a look at Paul to the Colossians. A high point in New Testament thought, parallel to John's gospel. It shows a final God-filled end to the whole biblical journey. With Colossians we have re-read the bible from God invisible and remote to God here and fully present.

Did Paul himself write it? Scholarship is divided. Whether or not Paul did, it is a vital piece of Christian teaching based in Pauline principles.

First thing to grasp is the situation to which Paul is responding. The towns he mentions, Colossae, Laodicea, Hierapolis, were important commercial and industrial centers located on the river Lycus and sitting on busy trade routes running toward Greece and Rome. They seemed to have acted as bubbling points of religious speculation derived from Judaism, Eastern religions, the new message of Christianity, and a general Greek philosophical mindset.

In these circumstances Paul is not arguing with people who want to return to the Law but against a free-floating "secular" speculation that would place Christ as just one of multiple agencies, spiritual practices and experiences that communicate with the divine (see 2:8 & 16-18). Sound familiar? Yes, in many ways the context of Colossians is similar to our own new-age, plural, cafeteria-style religiosity. (See 2:23, ethelothreskia, "self-chosen religion").

Paul's response is not to argue from the Hebrew scriptures, proving salvation through faith in Christ. Rather he asserts a new universal truth, the primacy of Christ in all things.

A key sentence is: "See to it that no one takes you captive through philosophy and empty deceit, according to human tradition, according to the elemental spirits of the universe, and not according to Christ." (2:8)

"Elemental spirits" in the Greek is stoicheia which literally means "rods" or "strokes" and specifically the division of hours on the sundial. The word implies the primary matter or order of the world and in Paul's world has a personified spiritual dimension as in "rulers and authorities" (2:15). In our time the word could be interpreted anthropologically as "the way humans put the world together", i.e. its structure out of elemental human violence. Everything has been structured along the "lines" of violence but Christ sets us free from this world into something dramatically new, non-oppositional and whole.

In the setting of the letter Jesus may not have seemed elevated or "other-worldly" enough to satisfy religious longings, and that may have been why "worship of angels" (2:18) was attractive. At the same time, in order to communicate with these elevated beings "self-abasement" and strict taboo regulations (2:21) were necessary. Instead Paul claims that in Christ "the whole fulness of God dwells bodily and you have come to fulness in him" (2:9-10).

It is a startling claim and it is the radicalism of Christianity: that all religion and authority are found in this man. It inverts the apparent natural order of truth from "up" to "down" and from spiritual lack to spiritual fulness.

The reason is that in the cross and resurrection Christ has caused to "die off" the past human order including every violent "legal demand" against us (literally the "written down orders" 2:14). 2:10-13 uses the image of circumcision to present this "die-off" of the flesh (i.e. of the whole human system).

What is natural about this "body of the flesh" is that it is a system of death. But then what is systemically dead becomes dead explicitly with Christ, in order to be co-raised with him into true life.

All of this plays out the core statement of the letter at 1:15-20, perhaps an original liturgical hymn used or expanded by the author. "He is the image of the invisible God, the first-born of all creation; for in him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or principalities or authorities--all things were created through him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. He is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning, the first-born from the dead, that in everything he might be preeminent. For in him all the fulness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross."

Taken in one spoonful this is far too much. But if we begin from the last two sentences as the real formative experience of the early Christian community then we can see how everything that comes before makes sense. In other words, because the direct communicated event of the Crucified and Risen One changed every aspect of violent human experience, both relationships and transcendence, then this man was immediately felt to contain the fulness (pleroma) of God. The experience was organic and neural before it was metaphysical. But, against the background of Hebrew Wisdom thinking, it did naturally expand to a cosmic stature, and so the first two sentences follow logically.

Because of the cross and resurrection Christ remakes the whole of the human cosmos as if for the first time, and so claims preeminence.

But those who have only half-received the message are willing to fit Jesus in a scheme below the angels. In which case they need to have the full significance of Christ restated as a matter of principle. Every power or principle is subordinate to Christ. Why? Because he redesigns the human reality which projected these powers and principles in the first place.

Paul says this in so many words. "...you have stripped off the old humanity (anthropos) with its practices and you have clothed yourself with the new humanity (anthropos) which is being renewed in knowledge according to the image (icon) of its creator.." (3:9-10). Clearly this is a cultural event--putting on clothes--and one dependent on imitation of the image of the creator which is Christ (1:15).

The results of this renewal is a humanity without boundaries, without exclusions, with only the fulness of Christ that remakes everything as endless love.

 

 



Virtually Christian
How Christ Changes Human Meaning
& Makes Creation New

By Tony Bartlett



Chapter One: No Name For A Non-Violent God

We started with signs: the human world is a world of signs. There is no human knowledge, no “things’ even, without signs to communicate them. Our meaning world is a sign world. Thinking about signs allows us to see that our meaning is produced, fluid, constructed for us.


Violence is a crucial element in the production of signs. The sign “God” has a huge amount of violence in it: all cultures have the support of their “god” when they go to war, including Christian cultures. The whole concept of “hell” associates great violence with “God”.

“God” is a sign—a dense one, a powerful one, a confusing one.

By discussing this together the thought of Jesus and his intervention began to come through more clearly and powerfully. The way in which he was changing the very character of our signs, and so of our human meaning. The gospel, the “good news” is a set of signs, of words, which changes human meaning, including “God”. He spins our world anew out of nonviolent love.

Understanding Jesus this way shows us that Christian faith is not about a ticket to another world, an insurance plan for when we die. It’s about a kind of human evolution, a kind of cultural evolution whose purpose, pressed forward by the Spirit, is new creation.

Because of Jesus humans are like lung fish crawling out of the slime, and learning to breathe on land a new meaning of nonviolence and love. Christians are those who see and believe this meaning, and choose it with their whole lives.

But the entire world is under pressure of the Jesus evolution. That is why everyone is “virtually Christian”, including also Christians. Because everyone is on the pathway of a change of human meaning.

The point, therefore, of this first chapter is change the orientation of theology from “upward” to earthward, which is the actual trajectory of the bible. It begins in a garden “in Eden, in the east” and ends with the New Jerusalem where God and the Lamb dwell with humanity on earth.

(P.S. “Hell” has to be understood as itself a sign, a metaphor, for the self-destruction of human existence when based in violence. Not a torture chamber personally supervised by “God”.)


 


Chapter Two
Chapter Two: The Sign That Means The World (Part One)

Last Friday's study kicked off with a brief account of the career of René Girard and the development of his key scientific proposal: original crises of violence among groups of early hominids gave birth to human culture, including language, rules and ritual. The bible’s story of Cain and Abel says essentially the same thing.

Because enormous stress has been put on the story before it—the disobedience of the first parents—the second Genesis story of human origins has not received the attention it deserves. It is in fact parallel to the Garden of Eden story and deals with the same core theme: rivalry as the source of alienation, violence and sin: in one case human rivalry with God, and the other human rivalry with humans. It is this second story in fact which first mentions the word “sin” and it goes on to bring a vital further reflection--the birth of culture from violence. Cain the killer becomes the founder of the first city, and then retaliatory violence escalates until Lamech boasts of “seventy sevenfold vengeance”. Lamech’s children, however, seven generations in a line beginning with Cain, are the founders of cattle herding, music and metallurgy.

This evolutionary anthropology is presented alongside what looks like the constant figure of God, but actually God is shown to change and his plans to go awry. God at first provokes the rivalry (because of a preference for animal sacrifice he never explains), then protests the rivalry, then protects its outcome, and then the system of protection he provided grows inside human history to a devastating level of mass murder. Read anthropologically we can see the hugely dangerous function of desire (Cain wants what Abel wants/gets), its result in the first murder, and then the actual outcome of the murder is the growth of human culture and, at the same time, redoubling violence. (The cultural emergence of blood sacrifice is first introduced as a “given” but then is framed in the overall story as murder: because the actual killing of Abel produces the same desired benefit of God’s favor/ protection as it did for Abel, this time for Cain.)

Girard simply presents this story in credible factual detail: on an evolutionary timescale, going back a million years or more, terrible crises of group rivalry and violence among our hominid ancestors—of all against all—were resolved by the function of the single victim, the scapegoat. With everyone fighting everyone because of desire and rivalry, suddenly the fall of one singles out the “guilty” one on whom all the violence then descends. With the peace resulting from the killing there is the beginning of the sacred, of the god, and then of ritual and myth, i.e. culture. Girard’s anthropological proposal can today claim the theological importance which Ambrose and Augustine’s legal insistence on Adam and Eve’s “original sin” had during the intervening centuries.

There is an extra reason why Girard must be taken so seriously. His thought of original violence is rooted in a prior analysis of human relations termed “mimetic desire” which itself explains human violence. Human desire is imitated or mimetic, and that is why it is so incredibly powerful and easily leads to violence: the more you want something, the more I want it!

There are plenty of examples of this type of imitation from family life, especially from children: one child wants what another child wants. But also adults: Jerry (who is retired!) goes to a restaurant and first checks out what everyone else is eating to see what he actually wants…

The recent discovery of mirror neurons has added further, hard-science evidence for this kind of behavior. We watched a valuable PBS short video that can be found at: http://video.pbs.org/video/1615173073/

The very neurons that control actions in humans act to mirror the same perceived actions in others. As the video demonstrates the neurons allow us to mimic the emotions of others, and that must include desire, the mainspring of so many emotions. In the images of faces in the video we could in fact see violence at work and directly imitated in the brain of the viewer.

X X X

All this material was by way of introducing the essential argument of Virtually Christian, laid out in the second chapter of the book, and in pages 105-110. If violence gives birth to culture it must give birth to the human sign system that carries culture. Girard in fact says this explicitly, and the bible implies it when it says language is a human activity and production: God brings all the animals to the man “to see what he would call them…” Girard argues that the original symbolic moment or (“center of signification”) is the death of the victim. But VC argues, in addition, that this moment carries in itself a binary, what it calls an on/off switch. The original victim contains in him/herself the “bad” for which s/he is blamed and then the “good” of the peace which his/her death then produces.

None of this is brought to conscious recognition but resides deep within the original “thought” produced by the victim, the first fixing of an abstract or transcendent human meaning which is not instinctual. Within that original meaning lives both the negation of the victim and the affirmation of the order she brings.

This double-sidedness or negative/positive in the origin of signs conforms with a standard result of the study of signs (semiotics), i.e. their binary nature. Our discussion described many of these binaries, up/down, east/west, male/female, in/out, etc., and we could see how vital this on/off switch is to the construction of the human universe. It is easy to conclude, therefore, that this critical function of language is derived from the original on/off switch of the primary victim. From where else, on this hypothesis, could such a powerful world-making function of signs be derived? For, of course, we remember that one of the first functions of on/off is to decide who is part of our group and who is not, who is embraced and who is excluded.

We then came to the central point. If we accept that human beings are a system of binary meanings, based in violence, and communicated along neural pathways in a whole range of ways--from facial expressions, through language, images, print media, T.V., consumer goods, internet, movies, etc.—then a nonviolent intervention at the very root of the sign system must give birth to a new sign system, i.e. the communication of a different way of being human.

Jesus is the figure who brings the negated victim to light but not as violence, rather infinite forgiveness. He therefore undoes negation itself and becomes the sign that subverts our sign system from within. He undoes all its divisions and exclusions, in order to affirm the other in love, overcoming violent difference with the revolutionary sign of cross and resurrection

The gospel record shows that he did this as a matter of program in his active ministry, inviting all the excluded to table with him and earning thereby the hostility of those who (like the rest of humanity) lived by exclusion. He then went on in the cross and resurrection to provide a sign that overcomes exclusion throughout all of history.

The body of the victim, previously hidden and negated, arises now as generative love and thereby enables a new absolute “yes” to creation rather than an endless series of “yes and no” (see 2 Cor.1:19-20).

But then the question arises, if this is the case, surely it would have left some evidence in our actual sign system. And this is in fact the conclusion of VC, moving it along the trajectory of its argument. The book discovers concrete evidence of an eruption within our sign system during the Middle Ages. It assembles signs from the13th century movement of Romantic thought and feeling, in poetry, art and devotion. It describes the ideal of “non-possessive” desire in courtly love and at least a hint of nonviolence in some of the Arthurian legends. In Christianity itself devotion to the Eucharist was a powerful experience of a nonviolent sign. The feast of Christmas is perhaps the single most evident case of a profound shift in our repertoire of signs derived from this period. The popular tableau of the crib begun by St. Francis manifests, despite all the exploitation, a perennial sense of absolute earthly peace.

The objection was raised that the Middle Ages were violent and bloody (viz. the Crusades) and anything but “gentle”, so how could these claims be made? The answer is that it’s the emergence of nonviolent set of signs which is being argued not a nonviolent Christianity as such. At the same time as these nonviolent signs there were in fact very violent signs produced in Christianity, i.e. the violent doctrine of atonement and the papal militarization of the church. It’s clear these other signs were the main mobilizing forces of religious and political Christianity and this is hugely important if we’re thinking about Christian meaning as in fact a system of signs. The very polarity or contradiction of Christian signs serves to reinforce the argument that signs are the issue, and it’s a question then of which are the deeper, more authentic ones.

But perhaps an even more telling response is that the nonviolent semiotics of the Middle Ages were a discovery more of poets and artists, plus one or two crazy saints like Francis, rather than a matter of church doctrine or practice. In other words, it is truly a matter of signs and signification, rather than formal systematic thought. Christ is changing our signs and meaning despite the best efforts of churches and theologians to make his meaning conform to the meaning of the world by effectively transposing it out of the world. Signs are to be understood as evidence of the deep work of Christ to transform our human condition, rather than the products of church authority negotiating our salvation for us.


Chapter Two
Chapter Two: The Sign That Means The World  (Part Two)

As Cathy said during the meeting, it’s a very hard thing to translate a piece of Spanish poetry into English. How much more challenging is it to start an entirely fresh language based in an entirely new principle of meaning, and carry the old language across to that!

This is what Jesus did. The gospels are littered with evidence of his word-spinning, his signal-giving, his soul-searing mind-bending significance-shifting. How could the Pharisees possibly ask him for a sign when they were surrounded by so many? They could not have been paying attention at all. Or, rather, because the source code for the language he was evolving was so utterly foreign to their own program, they were blind to all the signals he produced.

John’s gospel in particular is thick with signs, and awareness of their pivotal function.

“In the beginning was the word…” This has been read within an eternal framework, talking about the eternal Word of God made flesh in the person of Jesus. But to read it in purely a high doctrinal light takes away so much of its dynamism. We can also read it as: In the beginning was word, communication, sign, and this is with God and is God! And the beginning is absolute beginning, now, with this word/sign....

We remember where we came in on this last time. Human signs are manufactured items, all of them. The very first, original sign is the sound wrung from the awed lips of our distant ancestors when they became collective murderers of the first human victim. That noise signified the first abstract meaning— one not directly connected to a physical stimulus. Rather it signified the total complex of feelings (rage, violence, fear, peace) generated by terrible crisis of imitative desire and its wondrous resolution by the killing of the single victim. It was a sound of and for the sacred, the transcendent realm of meaning beyond direct satisfaction of needs. It also generated the name of a god representing the deceased victim, but who was not remembered as a victim, rather an all-powerful being responsible for both all the terror and all the peace. Then, from this first sound and its power of meaning all other words and significations got their start, like cells multiplying out from an original life form. Because once proto-humans “got” the trick of “sound + meaning” it would be almost automatic to imitate the same basic formula for every other experience in the actual world. (Remember how imitative the brain is: it can surely also imitate itself.)

And so again, if Jesus enters into the role of the primary victim but does so with infinite forgiveness and peace—which then becomes the meaning of the event rather than the anger and violence of the persecutors—then the words and signs spilling out from this event, the “good news”, is the beginning. It is an absolute beginning of human meaning, relationship, culture. And the beginning is even more primal than the ancestral beginning of human language and culture, because it undermines the “older” beginning with absolute life now, absolute giving now. Therefore, “In the beginning was the word….”

We also remember that the binary system of language came from the origins of culture (“all the terror / all the peace”), but in this astonishing new beginning there is only affirmation, only “yes”. We said, therefore, “Jesus took the ‘no’ out of life!” It was objected that “no” is still very important, e.g. “no to torture” or “no to slavery”. We then discussed how these vital “no’s” were part of a wider “yes”, and that a theology of no, protest or resistance against injustice, is still a necessary witness and ministry. The key thing is not to be infected by the violence against which we are protesting, to have the purity of heart to always affirm everyone, and the world too, even as we’re saying “no” to the systemic violence in it.

But back to signs. Here, for example, is a piece of bread. “This is my body for you…” Oh boy, the audacity and genius of this sign! We’re not talking about some strange ontological miracle whereby this “really, really” is Jesus’ body even though it still looks like bread (transubstantiation). Neither are we talking some peculiar “spiritual” reality coming from a different, spooky, non-material world. Nor are we talking about a depressing plain memorial, some empty theatre of the one atoning sacrifice of Christ. Rather, this is a sign, as sign, that subverts every other sign! It invokes Jesus’ intervention at the very root of our sign system and holds itself up as primordial, reconstituting sign. “Do this in memory (as a concrete sign) of me! Everything for us humans is sign and I want you to recall again and again that I have changed the very roots of our signs, out of violence into love: and this particular “sign” springs that truth up into our hearts and world, over and over.” The eucharist is the sign of the reinvention of signs by Jesus.

But, if this is the case, if Jesus is this radical intervention in our sign system, evidence surely has to show up also in the vast array of signs around us. There has to be a profound disturbance in our semiotic universe. Last week we looked at evidence from the Middle Ages. How about in our own time when we are surrounded by an ever expanding galaxy of signs? The argument of Virtually Christian is that, yes, indeed, there is evidence, and it shows up powerfully in contempoary movies and songs. There is the presence of what the book call “the photon of compassion”. This particular metaphor was chosen because a “photon” in physical terms is the elementary particle of light, but it is also a wave (like a wave in water). In other words it is a dual reality, both an observable “thing” and a relationship. The effect of Christ is both an identifiable reality at the heart of our sign world and yet a relationship that can only be properly appreciated in relationship.

Next week we will look at a number of examples of the photon of Christ but we ended this session with one highly telling example, the Disney cartoon, Wall E. This movie tells the story of a small, grubby robot left alone on earth to clean up the huge mess of a trash-covered planet. Meanwhile all the humans have taken off into space, literally cruising around the heavens and reduced to endlessly-entertained, obese parodies of human beings. The only one with any real humanity is the little robot, Wall E of the title. And we know in fact that Wall E is the new Adam because he falls in love with another robot called Eva and together they re-inspire humanity to return to earth and behave as real humans! Wall E is killed in the process and resurrected by Eva for good measure. In other words this is the story of the compassionate Christ but told without one mention of religion and more effective for that. Watching the movie the divine/human photon of compassion falls luminously from the screen into our hearts. And it does so because of the original refiguring of our sign system by Jesus.


Chapter Four
Chapter Four: Alpha To Omega

The question at the head of this chapter is: if Christ has radically changed human culture through a mobilizing compassion, then philosophy--the practice of thought in relation to the world--would surely show some impact? The chapter gives evidence this is in fact the case, demonstrating the powerful contemporary theme of movement as a product of Christ in the world.

Philosophy came from the Greeks. It was the Greeks who invented the analytic method, the method of negation and affirmation. Remember we're talking about a method not the simple fact of negation and affirmation; of course every human being can do these things. But the Greeks pushed negation and affirmation all the way because they were interested in the final "whatness" of everything, the nature of being as such. They were not interested in an ambiguous interpenetration of things as in the Chinese thought of "yin and yang", nor did they seek an Eastern-style religious attitude where all things are experienced as "one". They sought instead an intellectual knowledge of the final nature stuff, of "what is". For Thales the ultimate reality was water. For Anaximenes it was air.

Plato invented the idea itself as the ultimate nature of stuff. How critical was this as a shift in human culture! His term is "eidos" which is commonly translated form, but also as idea, meaning the appearance of something to the mind. His "theory of forms" said that everything in the universe had a form or idea (eidos) which was in fact a copy of a pure eternal form or idea. The pure eternal form held the ultimate nature of everything. Bingo! Thus was born the other-worldly truth of the world!

This way of thinking has had an enormous influence on Western history, especially Christianity. Plato's notion of the eternal--changeless, motionless, nonmaterial perfection--has profoundly shaped our understanding of biblical "heaven", the "immortal soul" and "what happens when we die". Because of Plato ultimate Christian reality became other-worldly and nonmaterial.

Aristotle is supposed to have reversed the thinking of his master, Plato, giving it a more realist, material bent, but the truth is he still retained the intellectual attitude, i.e. ultimate reality was always perceived in and by the intellect. Thus the intellectual or "ideas man" has had enormous prestige in the West. And in Christianity especially this always slipped back into the Platonic other-worldly attitude. As Nietzsche said it, "Christianity is Platonism for the people".

But a significant change began in the 19th century, breaking from the Platonic world view and emphasizing a sense of "movement" rather than static mental truth. And as an experiential fact our contemporary culture is much more shaped by movement, both physically and now imaginatively via the internet, than unchanging heavenly realities. We live in a post-modern world full of flux, relativity, open-ended movement... But it is Christianity itself which at root has provoked this other kind of world, so undoing the millennial hold of Greek thought! This can be shown in two important areas.

Evolution is one vital area in which movement is stressed in our world. The broadly accepted cultural viewpoint--that the earth arrived at its present form of life over millions of years-provides an intense overall theme of movement. But is it Christian?Teilhard de Chardin was a Jesuit paleontologist who took part in numerous scientific digs in China and elsewhere, and during his long career of writing and research embraced evolutionary thought from a Christian point of view.

Teilhard saw a natural compatibility between evolutionary science and Christian faith because faith taught a movement in time toward Christ, the Alpha and the Omega. This is a perspective made possible by a number of biblical texts, above all in a passage like Romans 8:19 where it says: "The creation waits with eager longing for the revelation of the children of God..."

Scientifically Teilhard believed that consciousness was a natural accompaniment of the development of biological nervous systems (i.e. not a divine element of the soul coming from beyond). As such all of life is a reaching up toward consciousness, and thence to its perfection as love, what Teilhard calls the "Omega point". The recent science of mirror neurons is strong evidence for the basic accuracy of Teilhard's insight--the neural pathways that allow us to move and respond to our world are also able to "mirror" the same actions in others, putting us at once in the self-other relationship, something which is at the heart of consciousness.

Generally therefore the cultural theme of evolutionary movement does not have to be seen as a threat to faith. On the contrary it can be seen to have inspired by it. The argument is not that Teilhard was right in every respect but that, as he himself testified, it was his Christian faith that gave him confidence to propose this way of thinking. Here therefore we have a powerful example of Christian faith making possible the radical sense of movement expressing itself in evolutionary thought.

The other framework in which we read about movement is the philosophy of Martin Heidegger. This 20th century German philosopher is seen by many to be one of the greatest in Western history. His thought is an effective and real break with the Platonism and idealism of the past: a rooting of philosophy in actual human existence.

For Heidegger the human individual is the place or site or of a disclosure of Being via various key moods or conditions of existence. By far the most important is time: time indeed as a human movement. Because human existence is always moving toward its own death then Being is revealed. It's as if you were gradually being pulled on a rope over a cliff so that ever contact with the ground beneath becomes essential and real! His view is of course a little more subtle than that but this is essentially his vital contribution --situating our awareness of "what is" in direct dramatic human involvement, rather than abstract intellect.

But then numerous commentators agree that what first inspired the determining role Heidegger gave to time was--amazingly!--the New Testament. Heidegger taught courses on the New Testament and it was the early Christian sense of living in urgent anticipation of the coming of Christ (and how that affected immediate experience) which underlay his thought about the role of death. He just shifted the key horizon from Christ to death, and voilá! an extremely powerful philosophy of existence was created.

But then if that is the case it has two significant consequences: one) the tradition of Christian faith has shaped at its core the most influential philosophy of the 20th century and beginning of the 21st; and two) the most dynamic underlying truth of Christian existence is not the concept of "heaven" but movement in time through relationship to Christ. Christ mobilizes the present world in all sorts of ways towards its authentic future.

Heidegger's thought effectively shows us that the true philosophy and force of Christian faith is not some supposed perfect other-world accessed after death (or through rapture!) but a movement in time toward Christ whose meaning is so powerful he changes the condition of existence in the present. Change in the present may also come in terms of crisis, because of the world's unwillingness to accept compassion rather than anger.But then this simply intensifies the pressing need for compassion!

The more compassion the more crisis, but then also the more crisis the more compassion!

Thus we can see that the overall thesis of the book--that the message of the gospel has radically affected human self-awareness and experience--is confirmed from the side of philosophy, in terms of the deep sense of movement released in the world by Christ. This means that the Christian message has actually broken its Platonic chains by its own natural power.


Chapter Five
Chapter Five : God Save Me From God!

Chapter Five is the book's "Dilithium crystals" of Startrek fame, the essential energy source at the core of all our crazy explorations through space and time. But we could never discover this precious ore unless we had first set out on the journey, the voyage through culture. Finding the source depends on the journey, but taking the journey also depends on the source.

This is a chapter on Christian doctrine, the classic Christian teaching on the two natures of Christ and the three persons of the Trinity. The ancient formulations run the risk of making the good news of Jesus an abstract scheme with little or no value to average humanity, except those initiated in seminary. The purpose here is to reveal their vibrant basis in human fact.

In so many words, there is a radical intervention made in our human situation by Jesus, the prophet from Nazareth. Jesus showed a complete absence of violence in his relationship to the Father and followed it through with a consistent practice of forgiveness and love, all the way to the absolute nonretaliation of crucifixion and its raising up in resurrection. Without this existential reality at thier root the development of the high doctrines is incomprehensible.

The absence of violence is the key. In all of our relationships there are elements of violence. Not in this one! Here there is full trust, peace, love, surrender...the core practice of Jesus which enables us have any concept of the Trinity at all.

The question is approached in three stages, under the title of "sign". "Sign" is the essential method of the book because sign is flexible and dynamic, allowing for human change. Beginning from fixed intellectual categories assumes we can get into this through our minds, but it will only get us hopelessly lost. We get to the truth in as much we are changed by it...by the signs associated with it which liberate us into a new reality.

The sign of Christ, the sign of the human, the sign of God.

The sign of Christ refers to the way Jesus changed the meaning of human existence, from inevitable violence, to one of absolute relationship in acceptance and love. As already said, it is Jesus' total relationship to the Father insisting on the endless forgiveness and nonviolence of God which is then raised up in resurrection. This total relationship becomes a real existential possibility for all human beings...communicated by signs. When Thomas finds it difficult to believe at the end of John's gospel Jesus shows him physical signs of crucifixion made into meaningful signs (of love) by being raised up. Thomas does not actually put his finger in the wounds--really a further act of violence if he were to do it--but he is invited imitatively into that space. His neurons are literally tuned in to the Risen Crucified. (On this also see below.) And the cry that is then wrung from him--"my lord and my god"--is not a metaphysical claim, rather it is pure exclamation at the total change that Jesus has brought in Thomas' awareness of everything, including God.

It is this experiential basis resonating through the centuries that produces the formulae of Nicaea and Chalcedon, claiming Jesus is of "one substance" with God and his "person and hypostasis" is the eternally begotten Son. In this latter case we have in fact the invention of a completely new concept, "person". It is twinned with the other word "hypostasis" to give it the strength and depth that it didn't have then (it meant "face", "mask" or "role"). Hypostasis meant "independent existence" but can today be translated better by "underlying identity" because of its association with person. And now of course person means a relational being deserving of absolute respect and value.

This then is the sign of the human. We can share the underlying identity of Christ because we are neurally imitative, able to pick up all the way to our depths the changed human value of Christ. The chapter describes this in terms of compassion, the "other" radical possibility of imitation, alternative to rivalry and violence. Because we are neurally imitative the response of Christ can be downloaded into any human being who pays attention to the system of signs associated with Jesus--the stories, the meals, the preaching, and all their repercussions in art, movies, songs etc.

It means that in and through Christ we can share the same "hypostasis" as Jesus, i.e. become "children of God" as the gospel of John asserts. The "sign of the human" becomes deeply Christian, the way human beings through the risen Christ can begin to take on the same divine nonviolence found in Jesus.

And finally it means a deep change in the "sign of God". God also imitates the hypostasis of Jesus, or the Son generates the Father as a human being! This has to be the case for two reasons.

One, the logic of the Trinity itself. To be equal in love they each have to give themselves completely and each following the other. As the books says, equality in love means that there is there is an undecidable priority in the Trinity: they all go first, and they all go last.

Two, Jesus demonstrates precisely this on the cross. "Abandoned" by the Father means that he entrusts himself without guarantee, without support, into an abyss. And the abyss becomes love for the other. This is indeed what it means to generate the other, letting the other be because of your absolute gift. And it means that the Father can do no less than imitate Jesus, abandoning himself/herself in love. Even so Jesus generates the Father on earth. But at the same time the Father generates the Son who is Jesus.

The earth itself becomes part of the eternal dance of God!


Chapter Six
Chapter Six: A Virtual Church

The church is anywhere there are Christlike relationships--which means a sharing in the personhood of love brought into the world by Jesus. As the Latin hymn has it, "Ubi caritas et amor deus ibi est": where there is self-giving and love, there is God. And if God is there so necessarily is church.

Throughout the study we have discovered that Christlike relationships are in time and space, scattered through time and space. They are part now of the historical and cultural continuum. They do not belong to a strange "other" spiritual world which only the priests or ritual or private salvation can access. They belong to the actual world of human relationships carried by neural mirroring.

Saying this does not mean these worldly Christlike relationships are perfect or unmixed with other selfish or even violent modes (witness the medieval church itself, or in fact any formal church!). Perhaps more often than not they exist simply on the level of signs and meanings--but those signs and meanings can then inspire people, without them knowing it consciously, to act in a Christlike fashion. And if people do act in this way that is church!

Grace is broadcast freely in the world, which is the character of grace. (If we say, as some theology does, that grace is given to some and withheld from others, that is not grace but whimsical violence.)

But what remains then of preaching and teaching? What about Paul's "How are they to hear without someone to proclaim him?" The Good News is news, surely, so it needs teaching and preaching, right? Right!

The argument of Virtually Christian is simply that after 2000 years the figure of Jesus has so entered the deep structure of our general human culture that it preaches and teaches itself! It does not of course teach "salvation by faith" or "salvation by sacraments", or the "divine nature" of Jesus, that is, any of the formal doctrines of Christian tradition of whatever stripe. You need a formal institution to do that. What it does teach, however, is something those formal institutions often avoid or even negate: that Jesus has changed the primal conditions of being human, raising up the victim, and compelling human beings toward compassion as the true character of human life.

It is this message that is broadcast in the world, with innumerable effects in our actual humanity. At the same time, however, two other things are relevant. First the world system of violence is not indifferent to this message but fights tooth and nail to resist it. And its best resistance today is to distort and co-opt the message itself. In this light it is culturally possible even to claim to be "Christian" while espousing the most violent social relationships and politics.

Secondly and in contrast--and here we are really getting to the heart of what it means to be church today!--there are those who are led to turn their hearts and minds to the truth of Christ in the world. They come to believe that the Father/Mother God of Jesus is present at the heart of humanity, engaged in a long travail of giving birth to the creation she always intended. People who feel this way come together continually to renew in themselves the transforming personhood of love shared between Jesus and his Father/Mother. They celebrate, worship and love this communal personhood which is God.

Because Christ is in the world this sense of church must necessarily take place in close contact with the actual world. VC describes the practice in terms of "informal structures" and "inclusive boundaries." The approach demands almost necessarily small groups which can have a fluidity and living contact with local human communities , something which sunday churches seem to draw a line against (or at least demonstrate in terms of activism rather than deep organic transformation).

One standard contemporary situation may be used to sum up the relationship of these groups to the world. It's the local shopping mall! The mall seems a strange place to frame the meaning of church. Is it not the very temple itself of consumerism, hedonism, greed, exploitation? Yes and but! It is just these things that make it totally non-churchy and yet show the powerful impact of Christ in the world.

The argument of VC is that at root it is the liberating message of Jesus which fuels the anthropological power of capitalism and consumerism. Jesus spent his time breaking down boundaries, freeing the earth from taboos and negations created by violence. He declared "the sabbath is made for humanity, not humanity for the sabbath...", in other words he released the sabbath blessing of creation to and for all.

He did this for love's sake, for the purpose of a new creation. But while creation yearns and groans toward this end it is perfectly possible for human beings to use and abuse the freed-up world for the continual growth of private wealth it makes possible. The Christianity VC is talking about will recognize the mobilizing presence of Christ even in something as materialist as the mall. The mall has a Christlike relationship at its core! But to see and say this is not in order to bless blandly all the selfish forces present there, rather to commit oneself even more deeply to the anthropological engine at its root.

It is possible for everyone freely to desire the goods of the world because Christ has released the force of desire in the world. For this reason desire for the goods of this world can and must be transformed into desire for the good of this world, because both come from the same deep matrix of Christ. The only difference is that in the former we take and seek to keep the good offered, and in the latter we want to give it away because we have come to understand that is its true nature! A big difference for sure, but one that requires the transformation of an existing mechanism, not the arrival of an entirely new "spiritual" otherworld.

To look at the mall in this way takes "mystical" eyes, a modern, historical, transforming mysticism which responds to the matrix of Christ in the world. Small groups which set out to be workshops of human transformation seek continually to reprogram meaning in this way. They are really weekday churches at the heart of the world, remembering that sunday for the Risen Jesus and the first believers was just the beginning of the working week...


Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven: What Signs Did He Give?

The last chapter returns to the theme of signs but played out in the historical figure from whom the whole effect originally stems.

It is very difficult to come to firm conclusions about the historical Jesus but if there is a real change in the core human structure, from violence to nonviolence, this cannot happen at the level of just a pretty story. It must come from a real human events with a real human being. We can only learn to be humanly different from someone who is a different kind of human!

Signs occur in the natural world...a bird in springtime sings its insistent song to attract a mate; geese talk endlessly, probably to ensure their collective co-operation. In all cases there is a neural response. Thus at some level "sounds plus meaning" exist in and frame the animal world.

Human beings have vastly expanded this ability via the mystery of purely symbolic language, to the point where you could say the human world is completely made of signs. The human world is completely an artificial world (a "humiverse"), which does not mean unreal or even unnatural. It is natural for human beings to produce or create their world through signs.. With Jesus there is the use of human signs to change our basic programming as human beings.

It is possible to track Jesus' ministry, life and death in terms of signs. His words and actions were all full of sign value, so much so that "sign" is the word that John's gospel chooses for Jesus' miracles. And are not his parables masterful stories each of which is a single sign of the kingdom? "What parable or sign shall I give for the kingdom of God?" A parable or mashal (in Hebrew) is a compelling form of words that runs alongside an experience (a byword, e.g. "like father like son") which can then offer the meaning of that experience. What was special about Jesus' form of words or bywords is that they upset established meaning and proposed a radically new one. His words did not run by you a meaning from the past, but a new meaning that came from himself. His bywords were "mywords"!

The Pharisees and the crowd asked for a sign, and Jesus refuse to give them one in response. This seems to contradict Jesus' communication through signs. But that refusal was itself a communication. It said that the semiotics or sign-system which shaped their demand came from the old world of meaning, rooted in violence. In the chapter this argument is grounded in Jesus' relationship with John the Baptist who in so many ways was Jesus' mentor but from whom he decisively broke. Even though Jesus was baptized by John (and even shared in his baptism ministry, John 3:22) he left him and at a certain point engaged in a long explanation of the difference between their ministries ( Luke &:18-35). VC demonstrates this difference to be explicitly in respect of violence: of the kingdom coming through violence for John, but not for Jesus.

John sends messengers from prison asking whether Jesus is "the one who is to come". In the context this does not mean the Messiah but the figure of Elijah who was to return before the direct intervention of God to establish God's kingdom. Elijah is the classic biblical figure of divine violence (viz. the slaughter of the prophets of Baal), and John and just about everybody else was hung up on the return of Elijah to sort things out before the final day of the Lord. Jesus refused this pathway, opting instead for a ministry of healing, welcome and forgiveness, and that's why John doubted him, having initially thought of Jesus in the role of Elijah! But rather than claiming to be Elijah Jesus identified with Wisdom, a figure of welcome and nonviolence. This is proven by Jesus' actual practice, many of his sayings, and his discourse on John and its ringing conclusion--"Wisdom is vindicated by her children...."

Thus Wisdom is the core sign by which to understand Jesus in the gospels and by which in all probability he understood himself.

Jesus did in fact offer a sign in response to the Pharisees--the sign of Jonah! (Matthew 16:4) The chapter lays out in detail how the whole story of Jonah has to be understood in the key of violence--Jonah's violent anger, the violent anger of God expressed in the storm and from which God relents, the violence of the Ninevites from which they repent, and again the remaining violent anger of Jonah. The great fish is both a monster of the deep--the realm of chaotic violence in Hebrew mythology--and then the transforming agency by which Jonah is saved and the Ninevites converted. The book of Jonah is in fact a Wisdom prophecy and a parable or mashal in its own right. Jesus' adoption of "the sign of Jonah" works on all the levels of the story, as well of course in the central image of Jonah's descent into the abyss of violence and its wondrous transformation through God's action. Jesus is the willing and forgiving Jonah.

In the light of sign of Jonah Jesus' death and resurrection become a profound and final disruption of the human order of meaning based in violence and violent death. In its place a new order of meaning is begun, after "the sign of Jonah." If this is the case it means that the change in the human order of meaning is ongoing; it is not yet complete. We are all virtually Christian!