Roots Radical

This morning at the library, I turned in my white privilege theology of Eastman, Chardin, Hinlicky, etc. along with the privilege based works of Evans and Riley. Do these adjectives denote a negative opinion I have of these authors? No, but these writers and theologians speak to a demographic that wants me nowhere near their lawn, and will put up the necessary gates to get across the message that I and my people are not welcome. Forget about sitting at their table and having a conversation, we should be blessed to have their shadows pass over us and give glory to Jesus for the opportunity to be patronized with their noblise oblige.

The reason I even read these works was motivated by the example of Jesus to the Sadducees in Matthew 22:23-33. The Sadducees were a religious group on the opposite end of the theological spectrum to the Pharisees. They did not believe in an afterlife, there is no such thing as angels and demons, and they only used the Torah.

In this section of the Gospel, the Sadducees used an argument to counter the Pharisees’ teaching of  a literal resurrection of the dead. A woman marries a man, but he dies without having children. According to religious tradition the brother takes his brother’s widow, and the first son they have is to carry the name of the deceased brother. The scenario the Sadducees created involved seven brothers taking the same wife and dying without a son, and eventually the wife dies. Because of the seven marriages whose wife would she be at the resurrection? Jesus dismantles the Sadducees’ argument by quoting Exodus 3:6 when God tells Moses, “I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.”[1] Jesus then subverts the argument by telling the Sadducees that God “is not the God of the dead but of the living.”[2]

When I first read this passage, I was inspired. If I am to undo Christianity then I must use the religion’s books and its teachers. I also took that reasoning outside of Christianity and applied it to any inhumane system crossing my path. In theory this practice works and has made me a formidable opponent, but in application, I have either been kicked out of institutions or asked to leave—many of those instances were based on lies to give the leadership an excuse to remove me from their space.

Such as what happened yesterday except I was not kicked out but threatened to be kicked out if I wrote another disparaging word against groups or institutions who willfully destroy the things I hold sacred. I am well versed in laws concerning defamation and libel, and I chose my words carefully to avoid legal recourse from the people mentioned because they would rather throw someone under the bus than be held accountable for their actions and words. However, these present groups have the money, or backed by money, and they call the shots in my space so I am not mentioning names and groups. Also there are two friends in this space I have known ten to twenty years, and they betrayed me by taking what I have written to their higher ups for an attaboy and a pat on the head. I hope the adulation and the promise of illusory job security was worth losing my friendship and respect.

Yesterday, I was told I have no voice and treated as a liar when I addressed my concerns as I had been addressing them since March; but with no action taken. Because they have not seen such problems with the groups involved, the problem, therefore, did not exist. However, they believed the lies the outside group told about me, and I was threatened with removal.

So now I am done. For the sake of my degree, I will read and regurgitate the books we have, but outside, I will have nothing to do with the authors. I went to the writers who speak to me like Dr. Daniel White Hodge, Dr. Anthony Pinn, Michael Eric Dyson, James Cone, and Jacques Ellul to name a few. I have been drawn to Black theologians and writers as well as to the writings of anarchists like Tolstoy and Ellul because these people addressed issues I am facing and enduring. Then I came across James Cone and Black Liberation Theology in my undergrad, and I felt electricity rush through my body as I read his words. I grew up poor and working class, but my skin is white. I was marginalized and continue to be marginalized because of my current and past socio-economic status, but I have not experienced the level of marginalization my friends of color experience regardless of their socio-economic status. What I saw in Cone as well as Hodge, Pinn, and Dyson was empathy, understanding, but what is more is they gave me language to speak.

Using the books and teachers of the privileged is a work of futility unless I am willing to become their sycophant as well as give them permission to dictate what I can say and think so I can dress properly for their functions; but they will never miss the opportunity to politely tell me that I am just a visitor and my presence gives them relevance and social credibility. In simple words, I am a convenient sales pitch. So I will keep quiet and accomplish my present goal until such a time I can kick their dust off my feet.

[1] Holy Bible: New American Standard Bible. 1995. LaHabra, CA: The Lockman Foundation.

[2] Ibid.

Aristotle, Plato, and Jesus Walk into a Bar…

I enjoy discussing theology, and, depending on the company, I enjoy debating theology. My best memories are when my father and I would roar, bellow, and swear over the bible and tattoos. My arms are covered with tattoos, and my father considered tattoos an abomination according to Leviticus 19:28[i], “You shall not make any gashes in your flesh for the dead or tattoo any marks on you: I am the Lord.” His remarks were peripheral because he confessed to my mother there were places and people I could to go to where he could not; I would be listened to where he would be otherwise ignored. I also knew my father did not consider me an abomination, but took seriously how he read the bible.

His remarks opened up a fourteen year debate beginning with my counterargument, “You know the bible also says no pork, no shrimp, and no working on Saturdays, and you do those things.” There was some grunting, “Well that’s just how I read the bible.”

Over the years he would blatantly tell me I needed to return to school because I was wasting my mind on my own ends rather than being of service to others. Pop did not care where I found myself with a degree, but he told me he saw me behind a pulpit leading a church. As years passed he went the way of subtlety, and used our theological debates over tattoos.

These debates used such theological words as “fuck,” “goddamn,” and “bullshit,” but these debates were held when mom left to run errands while I visited. Mom hates such words, and has been knows to use a right cross or break fingers to get the point across that she will not tolerate such words in her presence—whether at home or at work. One such visit, Pop and I were sitting at the dinner table with our bibles open and notes at the ready. With his finger pressing against his bible he returned to Leviticus. I responded with my right hand upturned and open, my bright, blue Hebrew words shining in the light, “Pop, you need to understand the cultural context of Leviticus. Tattoos were what the idolatrous nations used to worship their gods, and God did not want the children of Israel to worship the same way.”
“I am so sick and tired of this goddamned relativistic bullshit nullifying the word of God because it’s inconvenient.”
“Pop, this is written for the Jewish people; we’re fucking Irish!” A week later he procured the recently published Archaeological Study NIV Bible, and he opened to the notes on Leviticus. “See, right here, it says the cultural context suggests that God didn’t want his people worshipping him in the same manner as the Gentiles.”
“What the fuck, Pop! I say it and its ‘goddamned relativistic bullshit,’ but some cat with a few letters behind his name says it and all of a sudden it’s gospel?!”
“You know, you could always go back to school and get letters behind your name.” The smirk on his face told me, “Checkmate, fucker.”

When my father died, I lost any passion for discussing and debating theology. Most discussions I found myself in had more to do with crafting the correct amount of charisma into the argument to win than getting to the core of a particular theological thought. Pop and I enjoyed taking peripheral doctrines and theology, choosing a side, and roaring our points with no hints of anger. To the outsider, though, our theological debates looked like they would come to blows. After he died, I could not find anyone who could argue with the same passion for the truth my father had. Theology was no fun. I lost my sparring partner.

So here I am, almost ten years after my father’s death, sitting on a seminary campus working on my Masters in Theology, or ThM. I know he is sitting in the great hall, pausing his discussion with St. James and St. Paul to look at me, cackling, “Told you so, boy! See? The old man does know a thing or two.”

Not only am I studying theology, I am also part of a newly created theology cohort for MTS students (Masters in Theological Studies), though, the group is not limited to MTS students on campus.

After years of wandering and finishing my undergraduate degree with a B.A. in British and American Literature and Religion, I came to the conclusion that theology is nothing more than applying the philosophy of Aristotle or Plato to interpret the soteriology of the life of Jesus, his death on the cross, and his supposed resurrection and ascension. This approach has been going on since Paul’s conversion when he used the influences of his Rabbinic and Classical education. The latter can be seen in Acts 17:28 when he quoted the Cretan Philosopher, Epimenides and the Cilician poet, Aratus.[ii] Also, Paul quotes Meander’s Greek Comedy, Thai[iii] and the Cretan philosopher, Epimenides.[iv] Jesus did not start Christianity, but it was Paul who began the religion by using the philosophy and culture of the Greeks to find counterparts to Jesus and his teaching.  Paul wanted to make a connection to the gospel he believed was for everyone. Much of what we understand in Christianity concerning Jesus as God, the resurrection, and the afterlife came out of Greek philosophy. There was something of an inkling of an afterlife in Jewish thought during the time of Jesus, but that came out of Jewish people interacting with Zoroastrians and Greeks during their exile. Prior to those encounters, there was no belief in the afterlife in the Hebrew Scriptures.

With that understanding why do I concern myself with theology? Simply put, theology is fun. What makes theology fun for me is taking the old, classically based arguments and applying them to modern issues while I peruse biblical scholarship. I do not believe Jesus as God, but as divinized, and I am still on the fence on the resurrection of Jesus based on the argument of John Dominic Crossan’s recent work, Resurrecting Easter. Theology, for me, is not so much about the smooth, charismatic argument, but the practical effect of theological conclusions engaging the world to repair brokenness. If a certain theology does not answer the poverty, hunger, drug dealing, and shootings in my neighborhood then what is the point? Nothing more than a deep cushion for the hard floor in the ivory tower. When I study and discuss theology, I am looking for something I can take from the ivory tower to the tavern exclaiming, “There is hope! Consider this!” I think that is the heart of theology, and I think that was Paul’s heart when he synthesized Greek philosophy into his understanding of Jesus when he spoke at the Areopagus on The Unknown God. For me that is simultaneously the joy and work of theology.

[i] The NIV Study Bible

[ii] The NIV Study Bible, Acts 17:28

[iii] The NIV Study Bible, 1 Corinthians 15:33

[iv] The NIV Study Bible, Titus 1:12

The Force of Faith

When it comes to Star Wars, I can be a bit of a purist. I watched the original trilogy, and I was mesmerized by the sights and sounds. One of my earliest memories is at the age of four watching Star Wars in a drive-in because my mom enjoys the occasional fix of science-fiction and science-fantasy, I watched Empire Strikes back on HBO at my aunt’s apartment as well as Return of the Jedi, and during a book fair at my elementary school, I bought the novelized Return of the Jedi. I enjoyed the latter more than the movie because the movie that started in my head as I read the book was way better than what George Lucas conceived in Episode VI. Close to twenty years later, Lucas put out the remastered trilogy, and that is when my faith dwindled.

Why?

Three words:

Han. Shot. First!

Why is that a big deal? In the remastered Episode IV, Han shoots Guido in self-defense, and that changes the original character. Han Solo was by no means corrupt. He had his own code, and the best that can be said of him in A New Hope is he is an ant-hero who eventually comes around to being a hero. To have him shoot in self-defense creates an inconsistency of character throughout the rest of the film.

And do not get me started on Hayden Christensen as Anakin Skywalker at the end of Episode VI.

Episodes I-III proved to be a bigger disappointment for me because of Jar Jar Binks. I do not need to say anymore. Then Episode VII: The Force Awakens came out, and I became excited because J.J. Abrams directed the movie. I saw what he did with the new Star Trek movies, and I could not wait to see what he would do with Star Wars.

The movie was a let down.

All eye candy with explosions and action, and the acting was wooden—two hours of my life that will never be returned. Rogue One, though a prequel to Episode IV, was slightly better than Episode VII—long winded like reading J.R.R. Tolkien, but, like reading Tolkien, the movie was enjoyable.

Then yesterday, I watched Episode VIII. I was blown away by the film, and the movie was strong in every facet. So much social, religious, and political commentary—dare I say a parable for those of us despairing under Trump’s America?

The scene that struck me the most was the dialogue between Luke Skywalker and Yoda after Yoda burns down the Jedi temple and all the religious texts. Because I was not raised in a religious tradition I am able to consistently apply a pyro-theology* on everything to take apart the sacred cows—conservative, progressive, and everything in between.

“For you to look past a pile of old books.”
“The sacred Jedi texts!”
“Oh. Read them have you?”
“Well, I…”
“Page-turners they were not. Yes, yes, yes. Wisdom they held but that library contained nothing that the girl, Rey does not already possess. Skywalker, still looking to the horizon. Never here, now, the need in front of your nose.”

Because my religious practice is a Buddhism that informs my Judeo-Christian path, this dialogue aptly defines the difference between religion and faith. Religion creates a box to mash and contort our ideas of life, the universe, and God to the point the act suffocates us whereas faith embraces all facets of existence in the present moment.

The problem with religion is it holds ancient texts as a restrictive rule book that should never be broken. As an example, there are some Christians today—some, not all—who will treat the Hebrew Scriptures and the words of Paul** as words we should live word for word today. The fact of the matter is we are not Bronze Age Near Eastern people nor are we Greeks and Jews under the rule of Rome. Because these texts are 2,000-3,000 years old does that mean they do not contain any wisdom? Absolutely not! However, when a reader does a proper exegesis to understand what was said and how the intended audience would have received these words then an attempt at a proper, modern parallel can be made. Of course this idea is not limited to the Christian Religion. Lao Tzu said if you see the Buddha on the street, kill him, and Meister Eckhart communicated a similar idea concerning God, “God, I pray that I would be quit of God that I may see God.”

The point Yoda made to Luke Skywalker is when he restricts his faith to temples and texts he is limiting himself and what the force is. Religion is a good stepping stone to faith, but eventually the religion has to be discarded so one can grow. That idea is found in Buddhism and Eastern Orthodox Christianity. Eventually, a person’s spiritual practice will lead them to a place where the categories of religion, doctrine, and liturgy will fall to the wayside. Enlightenment, God, even the force is not bound by dogma but the dynamic evolution of life.

*Peter Rollins’ word.

**Though, some epistles in the NT are not written by Paul but a century later according to modern scholarship. i.e., Raymond Brown, Marcus Borg, and the scholars who put together the Oxford Annotated Study Bible.