What is Man, that Thou art Mindful of Him?

 There shall be . . . tomatoes

"The problems for humankind begin when myths are taken literally. In fact, one might go so far as to say that if myths and legends were not taken so literally, there would be far less trouble in the world." - Robert Buckman

               We’ve long known that there are areas of the brain that arouse us to action, and there are areas that moderate our actions, that say, “Hold on, mister. This is neither the time nor the place to submit to that urge!” We know the names of these parts of the brain and because our research tools are becoming more and more sophisticated, we are getting better and better at observing the anatomy of various human actions. We now know which areas of the brain are active during sex, during anger, during periods of peaceful well-being. We can observe the effects of hormones and pheromones on behaviour with a precision that is still relatively new. For instance—as Buckman points out—we have found through measurement of brain activity that the right temporal lobe is active in both ecstatic religious experience and in aggression. As Buckner points out, this proves nothing by itself, but does demonstrate our ability to view human behaviour in a much more specific manner than heretofore.
               My interest in this area of research arises partly from observing the mess Christianity has made of its dialogue on sexuality. Determined to describe this significant human behaviour using terms like sin, lust, fornication, adultery, and a whole host of pejoratives, Abrahamic religions have tried to cope with the reality of sexual lust and its potential danger to family, culture and community without one important piece of information, namely a precise and observable description of the biological functions inherent in human sexuality and the differences from person to person. Spiritual and cultural models of sexuality on their own just haven’t been able to reach a satisfying understanding of what it means to be sexual human beings, remarkably similar in this wise to monkeys, donkeys, lions and rattlesnakes. We’re shocked by the news of priests molesting children, evangelical pastors addicted to pornography, incest in conservative Mennonite communities, as we should be. But until we broaden our discussion and our views to include the current research on the biology of sexuality, expect the mess to get worse and worse.

               We’ve got to stop enforcing ignorance as a defense against doubt and apostasy. So let’s think of ourselves in broader ways for a change. For instance:

1)      Varying thresholds are observable in the human limbic system. Simplified, it means that Jake is more quickly aroused to anger and aggression--and also to fanatic highs--than Ben.

2)      The control system varies from person to person. Simplified, it means that Ben’s frontal lobes are bigger and more active than Jake’s and insert a stronger influence on his limbic system in times when “busting out” is a danger.

3)      Jake grows up a handful in school and later, is abusive as a husband. He is repeatedly repenting in tears and ashes, but falls into the old trap again and again. Ben is a gentle, amiable man, a valued church member.

4)      Describing their differences in spiritual terms without reference to their biological makeups opens the door to injustice and silly solutions.

I certainly don’t want to leave an impression that we are what we are because we can’t help it--end of story. Jake has got to stop abusing his wife, period. For him, a combination of sensitive counselling with a therapy that recognizes his biological weaknesses and builds his coping strategies might be the ticket. Altering the thresholds that trigger aggression with drugs may be standard therapy in the future, but for now, anger management classes might also be an answer for Jake. In any case, rejecting the biological side of our natures for some fantasy of what we would rather believe we are can’t be good in the long run.

               If God made us, he made all of us: biological included.  If nothing else, Buckman can help us take another step in understanding what that might mean.

A Cosmic Sunday Morning

Home

It’s Sunday morning; my town is still asleep. The yellow leaves that blew into the front yard yesterday are wet with overnight rain; I briefly considered—then rejected—the option of starting up the furnace. Too much like admitting that summer is over.

I’ve got a book on my desk that I chanced upon in the library yesterday. It’s Satan: Christianity’s Other God by James R. Brayshaw. It purports to show that “scholars have imposed their belief in a cosmic Satan onto passages that have nothing to say about such an entity” and that “A journey through the Scriptures and history reveals that God did not create the Satan of Christianity and that Satan didn’t exist in the theology of the people of God until they spent time among cultures steeped in mythology.” (This latter refers—I take it—to the sojourn in Egypt and more importantly, to the exile and the subsequent influence of Babylonian and Persian culture and religion.) So much I’ve gleaned from the Preface, Introduction and the book jacket. I’d better read it before I say more about its contents.

I expect that even the most adamant evangelical preachers must have had some intuition that the image of a powerful, supernatural “Satan” with his evil angels/demons is antithetical to that other important Judeo/Christian imperative, namely that there is but one God, not two, not ten. Just one.

This is heavy stuff for a Sunday morning. In Eigenheim Mennonite Church, a group of us will gather at 10:00 to discuss the motives and methods behind Nehemiah’s determination to rebuild the walls of Jerusalem. (I don’t expect the possibility that Ezra and Nehemiah had been influenced by the Persians to see good and evil as the work of two opposing gods will come up.) More important is the observation that we are all beholden to courageous people with the energy and the foresight to lead us in REBUILDING that which is crumbling and broken down, burnt like the gates of Jerusalem in 500 BC. Courageous leadership is not easy to find, especially leadership with the fortitude to tackle rebuilding, whether it be of physical structures, lives, or religious concepts that may have led us astray. Rebuilding takes guts.

But in questions of understandings that reach back into antiquity—like the Satan imagery—it’s a bit like refusing to turn on the furnace because it would be admitting that one has given up on summer.

May the light of the one, single God shine on you this day.

Some Good Friday Musing

Good Friday – March 21, 2008

Last night, the “Rosenort” group of Mennonite churches held the second of their joint Passion Week services. It was hosted by Tiefengrund Mennonite Church, whose pastor moderated the service; Eigenheim’s pastor delivered the sermon; Laird’s pastor officiated at the Eucharist celebration and Horse Lake’s pastor assisted in the distribution of the elements.

The theme of Allan’s sermon was the “unless a seed falls into the earth and dies, it cannot bear fruit,” lesson of Christ for his disciples, a very appropriate Good Friday text.

Tonight, I will portray high priest Caiphas in a series of Good Friday monologues called “Were you there?” It seems that my acting career has repeatedly funneled me into the role of the high-priesthood: some twenty-five years ago, I played Annas in Jesus Christ, Superstar in Thompson. I approached that with trepidations as I do this, and here’s why:

Historically, various branches of the Christian community have made much of the gospel reports that “the Jews” were the antagonists in Jesus’ trial and death, and have carried that forward as a banner contributing to the phenomenon of anti-Semitism. Judas’ betrayal of Christ for a few coins is echoed in the stereotype of the avaricious Jew, portrayed even by Shakespeare in his Shylock. In any case, I don’t like to be a portrayer of stereotypes, particularly those that are as hateful and false as those that generally fall into the category of anti-Semitism.

Here’s what I have to say:

Caiphas: Of course, I was there. It was my duty to take action against this man who defied our traditions and the authority of the temple. It was I who said to the people, ‘it is better that one man die for the people.’ Although language is double-edged, and you may understand that differently from what I did at the time.

In my opinion, the end sometimes justifies the means, and sometimes you have to use the mob to get done what has to be done. When we interrogated Jesus, he was uncooperative, and in my opinion, inexcusably blasphemous. Such behaviour simply can’t be tolerated.

I tried to find credible witnesses whose stories would serve to indict him, but that wasn’t easy. So I appealed to the crowds adherence to their traditions. I played them like a violin, and soon they were shouting—as I had hoped they would—‘crucify him!’

I am portraying a man whose principles have been left behind in pursuit of power. That’s evident in his speech. Was Caiphas really a man without principles, or did Jesus’ actions in the Passover atmosphere of Jerusalem represent such a grave risk to the temple-worshipping citizens that the priesthood was at its wit’s end? Was Caiphas an ogre trying to stamp out dissent as ruthlessly as necessary? Or was he a man who felt the burden of office weighing so heavily upon him that he felt it necessary to take stern action, wrong-headed as it may have been? Did the mob that formed around the event reach such a level of hysteria that once begun, the result of the episode became inevitable?

So here’s a Good Friday question for you. If you had to portray Caiphas, what would you have him say? If you were the Roman soldier, how would you have him describe the chain of events that characterized Jesus’ last hours? If you were Jesus’ mother, Mary, how would you have her describe her experience at the foot of the cross?

I wish you all a happy Easter.

On faith, doubt and evidence

Suppose an anthropologist found some DNA evidence in a garment that had indisputably belonged to Christ. Suppose further that analysis of the sample showed beyond a shadow of a doubt that Christ was the offspring of only one parent, a clone of his mother, if you will. What would change in your world as a result of hearing this? How would an evangelical atheist like Richard Dawkins live the rest of his life?

Would atheists seek to discredit the evidence? Would they propose that cloning was a procedure that had accidentally been discovered 2000 years ago, and was subsequently lost? Would they accept that Jesus Christ was what he and his followers said he was, the son of a virgin and, simultaneously, the Son of God? I wonder.

Would Christians jubilantly proclaim that they had been vindicated, and that their faith was now rewarded with the undeniable assurance that their gospel is the true Word of God? Would they finally have the confidence to proclaim the good news with the fervor of the early church? Would there be a new spring in their steps, new energy in their worship? I wonder.

Would young people, strangers, agnostics, Buddhists, Muslims, Hindus suddenly flock to churches? Would that result in such harmony worldwide that we would very soon forget that animosity had characterized the world before? Would peace break out? I wonder.

You’ll no doubt recall the story of the rich man and the leper, Lazarus, told by Jesus to the Pharisees. Both die and the leper ascends to Abraham’s bosom, but the rich man goes to hell. The rich man begs Abraham to let Lazarus rise from the dead and go to his relatives to warn them of the horror they’re facing if they don’t repent. “If someone from the dead visits them, they will repent,” says the rich man in his torment. But Father Abraham is skeptical: “If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets they will pay no heed even if someone should rise from the dead.” The whole story can be found in Luke 16:19-31.

Jesus said that his miracles—actually surprisingly few given his power to turn water into wine, heal leprosy, even raise the other Lazarus from the dead—were done so that his faint-hearted followers would have their faith bolstered. He said to his disciples before raising Lazarus: “Lazarus is dead. I am glad not to have been there; it will be for your good and for the good of your faith.” Yet, having witnessed this miracle, the same disciples remained doubters, especially after it appeared that Jesus had been defeated through his own death and burial.

People will deny, deny (or, conversely, maintain, maintain) in the face of apparently irrefutable evidence, if denial or maintenance appear to be in their interest. There are plenty of indicators in the earth’s crust, for instance, that our planet was millions of years in the making (Carlsbad Caverns, Grand Canyon, Great Plains, Appalachian Mountains, etc.). Yet Christians of some fundamentalist stripes continue to declare that the Genesis account of creation is a history and that the Great Deluge had characteristics that reliably explain everything from the fossil records to the formation of the continents as we find them.

On the other side, it would probably take more than a rising from the dead to convince people like Richard Dawkins that the spirit of God is the Alpha and Omega of the universe. It appears faith is a choice, supported by evidence possibly, but not resting on it.

I wonder.