tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-106997918446729932024-02-01T21:00:07.507-08:00Linards' blog cabin Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14037503455553018979noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699791844672993.post-85756215868775924482016-11-04T06:11:00.000-07:002016-11-04T20:33:38.731-07:00Faith Journey (part 10 and final)<div class="MsoNormal">
This will be the final post recounting my journey from
believing pastor to where I am now (secular, humanist, agnostic-yet-mindful of
the mystery of life and existence, etc.). So here goes…<o:p></o:p></div>
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During the early months of 2015 I started pulling together a
number of posts and reflections I had written, either for myself, my ALC colleagues,
or for The Clergy Project forum. These would eventually constitute a pack of materials,
addressed to the LCA leadership, outlining how my beliefs and worldview had
changed over the last few years – summarized in a few pages but running in
total length to over 60 pages. Having done this, I securely filed it and got on
with the duties of seminary lecturer, dean of chapel, church theologian, etc.
But all the time I knew my little pack of surprises was sitting there for a
purpose, ticking away like a time bomb. After all, this is what I wrote to those
who would eventually read it: <o:p></o:p></div>
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“<i>Over the last few years, I have tried to visualize various ways that I
could authentically hold my views while continuing in my current, or similar,
employment. These are some of the options that offer themselves, and they all
present difficulties of one kind or another.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i style="text-indent: -0.25in;">- Grin and
bear it – just suppress my personal opinions and play the game</i></div>
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<i style="text-indent: -0.25in;">- Continue
to hold the public line, but have a regular outlet to share with like-minded
people</i></div>
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<i style="text-indent: -0.25in;">- Nudge the
church in a progressive direction which, while coming nowhere close to my own
views, would at least initiate some conversations</i></div>
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<i style="text-indent: -0.25in;">- Be open
about my personal views, but promise to teach and work within the doctrinal
parameters of the church</i></div>
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<i style="text-indent: -0.25in;">- Seek some
other work within the institution of the church </i></div>
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<i style="text-indent: -0.25in;">- Seek
employment in a more liberal church</i></div>
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<i style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></i></div>
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<i>I’ve considered all of these options, and for a while I really did
imagine I could function as a closet heretic within the LCA. However, I’ve recently
come to feel that I should probably bow out from ordained ministry altogether.</i>”<o:p></o:p></div>
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By May of 2015 I came to the realization that for all my efforts, I was no more reconciled to my calling than before, and knew that nothing was going to change now. The prospect of
a double existence was as unpalatable as it had ever been. And so it was, that in
one of the more reckless decisions of my life, I threw caution to the wind and posted
the pack to the national and local bishop. <o:p></o:p></div>
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When we eventually met on June 2, things moved very quickly.
While I had personally (and probably naively) hoped for a lengthier period to transition
out of ministry, this was not considered feasible. The upshot was that I had no
choice but to resign from the ordained ministry within the next two days, which
I did the very next day. After that I had till the end of the month to wrap up
my seminary duties…and that would be that. Needless to say, the next days and
weeks were traumatic, both for myself and my family, and I’m not going to
rehash that here. I don’t even like thinking about it. However, I can say that
the ALC leadership and community offered wonderful support during this difficult
time, and for that I remain deeply grateful. <o:p></o:p></div>
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But despite the grief (self-imposed, but real all the same),
what would occupy me over the coming months would be the practicalities of
surviving now that unemployment loomed ahead. Since this blog is really about
charting my changing beliefs and worldviews, I won’t give a tedious narrative
of all that happened next. The following sums up some of the main challenges,
decisions, achievements and milestones since leaving the ministry, some of
which continue up to the present:</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> * Communicate and try and explain my decision to unsuspecting
(and bewildered) family members</span></div>
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<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> * Begin this blog, which I did on July 30, 2015, as
a way of communicating with interested church members, and anyone else for that
matter.</span></div>
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<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> * Start looking for alternative accommodation, as
we were currently in an ALC owned house. As it turned out, we kept renting there
till the end of the year, after which we moved into another unoccupied manse
very nearby. Most fortunate!</span></div>
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<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> * Decide whether to continue my doctoral studies
or not. The decision was to place the PhD on hold for a year. This gave me an
opportunity to reshape the thesis direction. But as new employment and
professional prospects emerged in late 2016 it became apparent that this was no
longer viable. I am now in the process of withdrawing from the program. A
little sad, but that’s life. (But don’t worry, Ricoeur and I, we’re still
friends you know.)</span></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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But the most urgent task was to find new employment. Without
income, nothing much else was going to happen. Except for bad things, of
course.</div>
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<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Thankfully, I was in time to (successfully) apply
for a research contract through ALITE (Australian Lutheran Institute of
Theology and Ethics), an arm of my previous employer, Australian Lutheran College.
Some LCA readers will know about this, and may even have participated in it. In
short, it involved completing a research project (surveys, focus groups,
literature reviews) providing a current snapshot of the LCA clergy – their
wellbeing, the nature of their work and ministry, their training and
professional needs. This entailed extensive consultation across the church and
resulted in a series of reports with recommendations for LCA leadership. Most
unusual given my recent exit – but all in all a fulfilling and valuable
experience, providing part time employment for a good part of a year. </span><a href="http://www.alc.edu.au/alite/research-activities/" style="text-indent: -0.25in;">http://www.alc.edu.au/alite/research-activities/</a></div>
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<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">During this time, I was also offered a small
amount work with Adelaide College of Divinity, writing a VET unit (Cert IV in
Christian Life and Ministry) and marking papers for a Biblical Hermeneutics
course. The latter was a satisfying academic experience.</span></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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But when these income streams eventually dried up the time
came to seriously engage with the job market out there in the ‘world’. This was
something I had never needed to do, being employed by the church since my early
20s. Things were not helped by South Australia having the highest
unemployment and underemployment levels in the nation. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Nor were things helped by suffering a heart attack, which not
only meant several weeks’ recovery, but quite reduced energy levels due to the
medication I was now popping every morning and evening. This is a factor I’m
only just getting on top of 6 months on. Thankfully, I didn’t go down the
bypass surgery route, with 3 stents sufficing to keep my coronary arteries open
instead. <o:p></o:p></div>
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After putting in scores of job applications, I felt I had no
choice but accept an agency cleaning job to earn some extra cash. These were an
exhausting 10 weeks, and further drained me of energy that might be better put
into job hunting. Still, it was the closest thing to a free gym membership you
can get (those lost kilos are now creeping back, as they do!)<o:p></o:p></div>
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During this time, I also enrolled in a Diploma of
Counselling to improve my job prospects. This was not something I would have
anticipated doing some months earlier, but the process of job hunting and
writing applications very much served to sort out the kind of things I could
see myself doing – and not doing. As it turns out, I’m glad I made this investment
– the whole field of counselling can be envisaged as a secular version of
pastoral ministry. So far, I’m enjoying the study, as well attending the Australian
Counselling Association National Conference in Adelaide recently.<o:p></o:p></div>
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BUT…the best news of all was to finally receive full-time work
with the recently renamed Department for Child Protection. So I have now entered
the public service, engaging on yet another significant learning journey. Furthermore,
I feel there is a good deal of cross-fertilization between this employment and the
counselling studies, not to mention the induction I’m currently undergoing. <o:p></o:p></div>
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So to sum it up, and to bring this personal journey to a
close, I do feel I’m in the best place I’ve been for quite some years, at least
since my doubts began gathering momentum around 2011. Of course, we never know
what challenges life will throw at us next, but at least for now I can say that
I’m no longer caught between an inauthentic religious role or financial impoverishment.
Whether I continue to engage in theology or religious reflection remains to be
seen. Perhaps it can be a hobby of sorts. It’s certainly not irrelevant to the
field of counselling. In any case, I hope to blog some more about how I see the
nature and role of religious/Christian faith, as time permits. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I hope you’ve found this an interesting read. And if perchance
your situation resembles mine in any way, that you’ve found it helpful.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14037503455553018979noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699791844672993.post-49061136863898376932016-10-15T21:05:00.000-07:002016-10-15T21:05:47.340-07:00Faith Journey (part 9)<div class="MsoNormal">
The following section is probably unnecessary if you have
read, meditated upon, and inwardly digested my previous posts. However, there
are a number of conclusions believers may prematurely arrive at when first
encountering my heretical and apostate views. I try to answer them here. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Are you angry at the
church? Have you been hurt in some way?</b> I can honestly say that my critique
of Christian faith has not been fueled by anger at the institution, or
particular Christians, or by some personal hurt or misfortune. Personally, I
have been treated very well by the church; I will always owe a debt of gratitude
for the support of the LCA and all the wonderful people within it. Some aspects
of what happened <i>after</i> I shared my
views with church leadership were disappointing, but at the same time I also
received unexpected support from within the church. But the main point is this:
my critique of Christian belief did not stem from personal injury or offense. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Are you more
generally offended by the church’s moral track record?</b> I don't deny that
the churches have been culpable in many ways over the centuries and the cause
of considerable evil; but I also recognize that churches and Christians have
been the source of immense good. Once again, this has not been the primary
reason for arriving at my conclusions. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Are you trying to
intellectualize what is basically a spiritual problem?</b> Is my unbelief the
result of hardness of heart, of proud insubordination and unwillingness to
submit to God and his word? Obviously, the word 'unbelief' has for many
Christians this tone of 'refusal', 'rejection' or 'hostility', and so is naturally
regarded as a moral or spiritual failure. But such a conclusion only makes
sense within the thought-world of faith, so if one thinks that of me, so be it.
But I don’t see it that way. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Do you want to break
free from the constraints of Christian morality?</b> Once again, this is not
the case. There are many motivations and rewards for resisting selfishness and
striving to look to the interests of others. Not only is there the continuing
influence of the ethical framework that has formed me, there are also simple
human reasons for wishing to live with personal integrity and mutual goodwill.
And when it comes to the inner struggle, which is not just the preserve of
Christian experience, I suspect that our evolutionary heritage and cultural/linguistic
formation provides a better foundation for understanding it than the myth of
original perfection, original sin, or the temptations of Satan. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Are you having
trouble accepting grace and forgiveness?</b> That is, in being unable to accept
Christ's free and undeserved mercy, have I shut my heart to God altogether?
Even if this was the case, it's entirely irrelevant to the reasons I've been
discussing. Even if I do have a 'spiritual problem', it in no way changes what
I regard as the implausibility of traditional claims about Jesus, the bible,
history, and so on. It's interesting to note that of the various de-conversion
accounts I've read, you get the full range of human experience – those whose
loss of faith was tied up with moral failure and personal animus, and the very
opposite, those whose integrity and dignity remained steadfast even as their
faith slowly unravelled. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Were you converted by
New Atheists, which you wrote about in <i>The Lutheran</i>?</b> Simple answer
again is no. Most of my ideas were coming together by the time I got to writing
that series. Furthermore, many New Atheist arguments were of quite poor
quality. The truth is, most of my conclusions were arrived at by reading books
on biblical scholarship and contemporary Christian theology in our own ALC
library. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Do you think that you
are smarter than everyone else? Are you accusing Christians of stupidity?</b>
Not at all. For a start, the willingness to subject our beliefs to scrutiny,
and the forces claiming our loyalty, are often quite independent of our
intellectual abilities (this is a prime example of where the New Atheists are
mistaken, imagining believers to be bereft of intelligence). But while I don’t
claim to be cleverer than others, I can say that I have informed myself to a
degree that many believers would not be willing to do. I have read, researched,
and wrestled with these issues, alone and with others, as much as is humanly
possible. And it also seems to be the case that some believers will resist,
misrepresent or caricature anything they fear may threaten their faith – a
defensive action that speaks volumes, it seems. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Is it now your
mission to convert others to unbelief?</b> Once again, the answer is no. I
respect the faith and worldviews of believers, and do not wish to belittle
anyone for their views and practices. As I discussed above, I believe that
(even as a human phenomenon) faith and church have formed the people I know,
and usually for the better. Besides, having been an insider to faith for many
years (most of my life, actually) I recognize the sense it makes when you are
inside that world of faith. At the same time, I will welcome honest and frank
discussion with anyone who wants to understand my position. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Are your current views
due to burnout?</b> I would not say that
my views and conclusions were due to burnout. For most of my time at ALC, I was
motivated and energetic. However, it’s probably true that I definitely was <i>heading</i> for burnout, due to the extra
pressure of having to live with, or somehow trying to resolve, all these
things. In effect, I had to juggle three balls: one was my ALC and LCA work,
another was my doctorate, and the third was my conflict of beliefs. The first two
were manageable – but the third ball was really doing me in.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>In conclusion<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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No doubt there are many other ways my change of thinking and
commitments could be construed and interpreted, and that’s OK. Everyone has to
interpret the world around them in terms of their own sense of reality, and
that means you might interpret what I’m saying in terms of Christian faith and
Lutheran spiritual dynamics – how could you do otherwise? On the other hand,
what I’ve described might make perfect sense to you, given the ‘world’ you live
in.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Anyway, I can honestly say that I am comfortable with
letting go of confessions and dogmas that I can no longer make myself believe,
including the realization that I don’t have anything quite so comprehensive or
venerable to replace it with. That in itself is amazing, because I remember a
time when I regarded ‘losing the faith’ as the worst possible thing that could
happen to a Christian – which is a fear the faith itself inculcates. But in
truth, there is immense freedom in finally owning up to what you do and don’t
believe, and knowing that although you might be quite mistaken about some
things, at least you are being real. <o:p></o:p></div>
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All the same, the practical implications of all this were not
at all easy. In fact, the next 15 months or so were some of the more
challenging I’ve ever faced, and I’ll wrap my faith journey up in my last post
by briefly recounting them.<o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14037503455553018979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699791844672993.post-2991717407981495522016-10-15T20:25:00.000-07:002016-10-16T00:18:23.553-07:00Faith Journey (Part 8)<div class="MsoNormal">
As this personal journey draws near to the present, or at
least to where it started with <a href="http://ljblogcabin.blogspot.com.au/2015_10_04_archive.html">A Short Statement of ‘Belief’(Blog post 4/10/15)</a>, I provide a snapshot of where I was in early 2015
and what I ended up sharing with the leadership of the LCA. Since it’s not
unlike where I’m at now in my worldview, I’ve let some sections remain in present
tense…<o:p></o:p></div>
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What <i>do </i>I believe?
<o:p></o:p></div>
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So what have I turned into, if my worldview is no longer
informed and sustained by Christian beliefs? Although I agree with atheism on
many points, I’m not comfortable with the definitive label ‘atheist’ – it seems a
little too doctrinaire in its own way, it reduces the element of cosmic mystery
to materialist naturalism, and on a personal level, many people I know and love
react quite adversely to the ‘A’ word. In any case, I think that ‘agnostic’
approximates my current position, and ‘free thinker’ comes close to describing
my ideal – although I recognize that none of us are ‘free’ in any absolute
sense, but products of our time, place and circumstance. The point is that I
have not submitted to another ‘system’ of belief, nor have I embraced another
‘gospel’. For it’s not just my beliefs that have changed, but my very <i>approach to believing</i>. My manner of
engaging with reality has a far greater degree of hesitancy, contingency, and
willingness to revise (including what I write here). Obviously there is a broad
worldview and consensus of opinions that I find persuasive, but one thing I do
not wish to be or become is unbendingly dogmatic. <o:p></o:p></div>
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In fact, I am learning that it is absolutely OK not to know,
and that the deepest mysteries of life will most likely always elude us. I’m
not saying we should give up trying to understand – just that we continually
reassess what we believe, no matter how sacred that inherited wisdom is. And
because there are many sources of knowledge and guidance to help us assess what
is real and good, I for one cannot commit myself to scriptures and saviours
claiming to be (or considered to be) definitive, universal and eternal. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Hopefully you can see that this is not some knee jerk
reaction to our overly dogmatic past (like when the fundamentalist Christian overnight
becomes a fundamentalist atheist). For my journey has included periods of
engagement with catholic and ecumenical kinds of orthodoxy, and more recently,
post-critical and progressive/liberal constructions of Christian faith. But as
I have also discovered, it takes a particular kind of personality to commit
your life to a set of symbols when you know full well that’s all they are (See <a href="http://ljblogcabin.blogspot.com.au/2016/07/faith-journey-part-7.html">blog post 10/7/16</a>). Some can live and move and
have their being in such a Christian world, although I suspect that family
ties, traditional loyalties, and economic realities probably play a larger role
than admitted. But my temperament doesn’t seem to work that way, and I feel
unable to fully enter into the ‘as if’ mode of hypothetical belief for the sake
of belonging to a community.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But even if I don’t engage with the faith personally, might
not Christianity continue to play an important role in the broader local and
global community? I believe this is the case. As I see it, Christianity will
continue to be immensely successful and self-validating, at least in the
foreseeable future. This is especially as it opens up to the global south,
where intellectual culture has not passed through same travails as in the west.
Christian faith, I imagine, will continue to meet personal needs, give meaning,
and provide a stable pattern for negotiating what can be a scary and chaotic
world. Prayer and spirituality will continue to anchor personal lives, and
public worship will continue to be the backbone of believing communities.
Against Christopher Hitchens, I agree with Tony Blair that religion will be, or
at least can be, a force for good, despite its role in various conflicts around
the world. I for one know that the Christian matrix of beliefs and practices
can provide a powerful motivator to strive against our ingrained selfishness –
although I no longer believe that <i>only</i>
Christianity can effectively do this. Sadly, many who don’t belong to a religious
tradition may well live aimless and self-destructive lives, and yes, much
contemporary life is extremely shallow, based as it is on consumerism and
entertainment (i.e., bread and circus). By contrast, many will discover that
Christianity can supply an exceedingly comprehensive, holistic and road tested
framework for life – one that works at many levels. <o:p></o:p></div>
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[By the way, if reports
are true that many Muslims in Europe are converting to Christianity – and I’m
not sure if this is anything more than anecdotal – then I think that this too
can be understood as a purely human phenomenon, and not some special work of
providence. After all, individuals and communities do change, sometimes
gradually, sometimes dramatically. It’s what happens.] <o:p></o:p></div>
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Who knows, Christianity might even continue to be a vibrant
intellectual tradition, but if so, I suspect this will be to the degree that it
appropriates contemporary scientific, psychological and philosophical insights.
That is, while Christianity will absorb or adapt to new forms of secular
knowledge, will these branches of knowledge in turn be enriched by specifically
Christian beliefs? Somehow, I doubt it. But coming back to the local scene, whether
or not LCA membership will catch up with even commonly accepted mainstream
biblical scholarship remains to be seen. For the present, it seems that our
clergy are doing a fine job in protecting them from uncomfortable truths the
academic community has known for decades.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Anyway, the point of sharing all this was (and still is) to show
that the path I was taking (and the pastures I was leaving) did not stem from simplistic
idealism. I knew then, as I do now, that the existential grass is not greener
on the other side. I also recognize that in practical terms, Christianity has
resources for social and individual wellbeing that secularism often cannot
match. Many thoughtful non-believers recognize this to be the case, without
thereby subscribing to such religious beliefs. <o:p></o:p></div>
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And yet, strangely enough, it felt that the decisions I was
then making were more ‘religious’ (that is, existentially significant) than if
I opted for a life of ecclesial and academic routine. It was in leaving, rather
than submitting and staying, that I came to experience such biblical images of
leaving one’s tribal and familial loyalties, of taking up one’s cross, and of
risking the loss of all that had made me who I am.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the next post I’ll answer some possible misunderstandings
that might have arisen in people’s minds as to why I left the ministry; and
then a final post will rapidly bring the stages of my journey up to the
present. <o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14037503455553018979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699791844672993.post-79577187961306812662016-08-07T06:51:00.000-07:002016-08-07T18:45:50.657-07:00Faith Journey (theological and philosophical companions)<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Here’s a snapshot
of some reading that I’ve resonated with over the past few years, part of my
winding path of faith and thought. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<u><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Radical,
progressive or disaffected Christian scholars and authors, many of whom have
abandoned traditional dogma altogether:<o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Richard Holloway</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Doubts and Loves: what is left of
Christianity</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Godless Morality: keeping religion out of ethics<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Don Cupitt</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Taking Leave of God</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Emptiness & Brightness</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> The
Way to Happiness: a theory of religion<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Lloyd Geering</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Re-imagining God: the faith journey of a modern
heretic</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Christianity without God</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Tomorrow’s God: how we create our worlds<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Thom Stark</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> The Human Faces of God: what Scripture reveals when
it gets God wrong, and why inerrancy tries to hide it<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">John Spong</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Rescuing the Bible from Fundamentalism<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Harvey Cox</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> The Future of Faith<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">John McQuiston</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Christianity without Superstition<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<u><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Critical
biblical scholars, some who have remained in the church while others have left:<o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Dale Allison Jr</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> The Historical Christ and the Theological Jesus </span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Jesus
of Nazareth: millenarian prophet</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Constructing Jesus: meaning, imagination, and
history</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Resurrecting Jesus: the earliest Christian tradition and its
interpreters<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Marcus Borg</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Putting Away Childish Things: a tale of modern
faith</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> The First Christmas; The Meaning of Jesus: two visions (together with N.T.Wright)</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> The Heart of
Christianity: rediscovering a life of faith</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Jesus: uncovering the life,
teachings, and relevance of a religious revolutionary<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Bart Ehrman</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> How Jesus Became God: the exaltation of a Jewish
preacher from Galilee</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Jesus: apocalyptic prophet of the new millennium</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Did
Jesus Exist? The historical argument for Jesus of Nazareth</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Forged: writing in
the name of God-why the bible’s authors are not who we think they are<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Peter Enns</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> The Evolution of Adam: what the bible does and doesn’t
say about human origins</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> The Bible Tells Me So: why defending Scripture has
made us unable to read it<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<u><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Contemporary
20<sup>th</sup> century theologians:<o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Paul Tillich</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Systematic Theology, Vols. 1-3</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Dynamics of Faith<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">John Macquarrie </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Principles of Christian Theology<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Maurice Wiles</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Faith and the Mystery of God</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> A Shared Search: doing theology with one’s friends</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Garrett Green</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Theology, Hermeneutics and Imagination</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Imagining
God: theology and the religious imagination<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Roger Haight</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Dynamics of Theology</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> The Future of Christology</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Jesus: symbol of God)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Ted Peters</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> God: the world’s future<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<u><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Scholars
and philosophers of religion:<o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Wilfred Cantwell Smith</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> What is Scripture? A comparative
approach</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Towards a World Theology; Faith and Belief<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">John Hick</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> The Fifth Dimension: an exploration of the spiritual
realm</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> The Metaphor of God incarnate: Christology in a pluralistic age<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Karen Armstrong</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> The Case for God</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> A History of God<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Loyal Rue</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Religion is Not about God: how spiritual traditions nurture biological nature and what to expect when they fail</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"> Nature is
Enough: religious naturalism and the meaning of life</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"> Everybody’s Story: wising
up to the story of evolution</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Robert Bellah</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Religion in Human Evolution: from the Paleolithic to
the axial age<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Daphne Hampson</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> After Christianity<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"><b>Terry Eagleton</b></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Culture and the Death of God</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Hope without Optimism</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<u><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Ex-clergy:<o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">John Loftus</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Why I Became an Atheist: a former preacher rejects
Christianity</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> The Christian Delusion: why faith fails<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Kenneth W. Daniels</span></b><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Why I Believed: reflections of a former
missionary<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Daniel Dennett and Linda LaScola</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Caught in the Pulpit: leaving belief
behind<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<u><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Atheists
– some popular or notorious, others thoughtful and generous:<o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Friedrich Nietzsche</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Human, All Too Human<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Robert Price</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> The Incredible Shrinking Son of Man</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> The Reason
Driven Life<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Walter Kaufmann</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> The Faith of a Heretic</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Critique of Religion and
Philosophy<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Andre Comte-Sponville</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> The Book of Atheist Spirituality</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> A
Little Treatise on the Great Virtues<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Thomas Nagel</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Mind & Cosmos: why the materialist neo-Darwinian
conception of nature is almost certainly false<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Eric Maisel</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> The Atheist’s Way: living well without gods<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<u><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">And of
course, many works by Ricoeur and about Ricoeur, of which I’ll only mention a
few:<o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Paul Ricoeur</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> The Symbolism of Evil</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> The Conflict of
Interpretations</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Freud & Philosophy: an essay on interpretation</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> From Text
to Action</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Time and Narrative, Vol.1-3</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Oneself as Another</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Interpretation
Theory: discourse and the surplus of meaning</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Figuring the Sacred: religion,
narrative and the imagination)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Dan Stivers</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Theology after Ricoeur: new directions in
hermeneutical theology</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Ricoeur and Theology<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Richard Kearney</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"> Anatheism: returning to God after God</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Kevin J. Vanhoozer</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"> Biblical Narrative in the Philosophy of
Paul Ricoeur: a study in hermeneutics and theology</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14037503455553018979noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699791844672993.post-77722864867176076882016-07-10T05:53:00.000-07:002016-07-10T05:53:06.019-07:00Faith journey (part 7)<div class="MsoNormal">
Having taken the step of sharing something of my own
faith-orientation, the question I now had to ask myself was this: while maintaining
the respect and acceptance of my colleagues (despite my heretical views) did I
really believe what I wrote and presented? Did I really intend to make that
wager, to entrust myself to the universe of Christian symbols, <i>even while I understood that that’s all they
are?</i> Was I capable of embracing a ‘second naiveté,’ that is, a deliberately
willed innocence, which says ‘yes’ and ‘no’ in the same breath (or with
different brain hemispheres)? Or had I simply found another creative way of tailoring
my views to the audience? I came to realize that was probably what happened,
and so I found myself in a position not too different from where I was some 12
months before. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On the one hand, my carefully controlled coming out did reduce
cognitive dissonance (a bit like spiritual trepanning), even though it was
still something I could only talk about in hushed tones in the stairwell. But on the other hand, it meant that I ended
up arguing for the <i>least disagreeable</i>
position available to me, rather than a position I actually <i>agreed</i> with. For on reflection, I really
doubted that what I wrote about Christianity as a non-dogmatic pattern of life,
rather than a belief system, would hold water, at least in my case. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Let me explain, and I’ll switch to present tense here. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t deny that some individuals can use Christian
symbols, narratives and rituals as a scaffold to engage in a personally
meaningful and socially generous pattern of life, while also knowing that none
of its metaphysical claims are literally true; and furthermore, recognizing
that the very tradition that claims to be universal and absolute is in fact
contingent and relative. Good for them! But despite advocating for this very
position, I find it very hard to engage in Christian practices when I know they
are ‘only’ symbolic (I put ‘only’ in quote marks because more generally I think
symbols are very important). In the final analysis, it seems to me, that
Christianity is incurably dogmatic. Here I find Walter Kaufmann’s critique of
Christianity quite to the point (<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Faith-Heretic-Walter-Kaufmann/dp/0691165483">The Faith of a Heretic</a>): <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">
“Christianity defined itself less
as a way of life than as a faith, which right from the beginning, involved
assent to various propositions” (142). “In the end, a Christian may choose to
reject theology...But in that case he gives up Christianity...” (143)
“Christianity is inescapably a theological religion, and those who give up the
ancient formulations of alleged knowledge about ‘God, his nature and
attributes, and his relations with man and the universe’ break with
Christianity” (144). <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(I would have also quoted Daphne Hampson’s <a href="https://www.amazon.com/After-Christianity-Daphne-Hampson/dp/1563381966">After Christianity</a><i> </i>here, except that I’ve
returned it to the library.) <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So the practices arise out of the beliefs, and for the vast
majority of people, precisely <i>because</i>
these beliefs are taken to be true in some objective sense. In terms of
numbers, I don’t know how many believers actually do <i>happily and freely</i> practice the faith without also believing it.
Quite likely, those who advocate the ‘willed naiveté’ approach are those who
have already invested a lot of themselves in the Christian tradition, and feel
bound to it for traditional, family, community or economic reasons. Only
someone trying to justify their continued existence in a faith tradition they
no longer believe in would develop such an approach. That’s why it seems that
conservative, orthodox and fundamentalist churches make the converts, and
liberal and progressive churches appeal to those who have lost their beliefs.
Of course, there may be exceptions, but they might often be authors, poets, or
intellectuals, drawn to the tradition for various aesthetic reasons. <o:p></o:p></div>
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But the real test of whether or not I believed my own words
about a non-dogmatic, praxis oriented Christianity, is how I myself freely and
willingly practice it. How do I measure up to (in my own words) “reading and
interpreting Scripture, cultivating an inner life, participating in communal
worship, practicing reconciliation, listening to others, receiving strangers,
engaging in charity, re-imagining a world, accepting discipline, cultivating
virtue, avoiding vices, and so on”?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Many I still hold to, or at least seek to enact, feeble as
my attempts are. Practices like “cultivating an inner life, practicing
reconciliation, listening to others, receiving strangers, engaging in charity,
re-imagining a world, accepting discipline, cultivating virtue, avoiding vice”…
these are, without a doubt, things to strive for as best we humanly can. But <i>not because they are Christian</i>, but
because they’re <i>worthwhile in themselves</i>,
having their own intrinsic reward or the well-being of others. And it seems to
me that such qualities can all be pursued (if not fully realized) by the light
of reason or common decency, or through the resources of other philosophical or
religious traditions. Or Christianity, of course. <o:p></o:p></div>
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But there are particular Christian practices that I had long
abandoned, dependent as they are on specific underlying beliefs. For example,
for some time I had been reading the bible only when I had to, for teaching, preaching
or research purposes. Quite apart from dismissing the church’s claim to the
bible’s inerrancy (its factual, historical or literal truth), I didn’t find
myself hungering to read it, even in a symbolic, imaginative or non-realist
way. If it was a matter of personal guidance and meaning, practical help or
wisdom, insight into human nature or a realistic accounting of the human story,
or just a good story, I was going elsewhere. When I did resolve to meditate on
the scripture, it was often out of a kind of loyalty to my vocation, but not
because I believe God was speaking to me through it. At best, I found myself approaching
the biblical passage as a pretext for bringing out what we <i>already</i> value – much like you can do with a passage from
Shakespeare or any other rich and multilayered text. To be honest, I think that’s
what most Christians and preachers do anyway… <o:p></o:p></div>
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What about participating in communal worship? With all honestly,
this was the worst. Not only because I, the liturgy lecturer, should of all
people be actively engaged and involved in this central act of the church, but
because in communal worship the disjunction between personal faith and the public
confession is intensified. Personal beliefs/faith (or lack thereof) must give
way before the assembly reciting with one voice “We believe…” Furthermore, I
was finding it almost impossible to sing the hymns of the church which in
effect asked you to climb into someone else’s love affair with Jesus. No
thanks. Teaching worship, however, was
not so bad, as I focused a lot on the historical development of the liturgy,
which is a fascinating subject – and should remind us that all the things
theologians and liturgists wrangle over are historically and culturally
contingent. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Prayer, I’d agree with one of my former teachers, is the
litmus test of belief. If you believe there is a heavenly Father who hears our
prayers, or a Jesus who is present where two or three are gathered, then yes,
you will pray, or try to. But it becomes a different proposition if you don’t
hold these beliefs: prayer than becomes a kind of meditation, which of course may
have its own benefit. Here is something I wrote about prayer in a post elsewhere:<o:p></o:p></div>
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Prayer is possibly one of the
basic litmus tests for the presence of faith or not. So the fact that personal
prayer has become almost non-existent for me is significant, although my job
frequently requires me too pray in group or liturgical settings. In fact, I
ceased believing a long time ago that prayer has any objective effect on the
wider world of nature or humans. Prayer seems largely something we do for
ourselves, or more likely, to ourselves. By prayer we reinforce the beliefs we
hold, especially if we feel anxious about losing them (“Lord, I believe, help
my unbelief”). It is a form of self-indoctrination, which explains why Lutheran
spirituality is always going on about the connection between the word of God
and prayer (as in Luther’s classic statement on <i>oratio</i>, <i>meditatio</i>, <i>tentatio</i>). Psychologically, I suppose
prayer can be seen as a form of processing our thoughts, perhaps by positing
God as a silent conversation partner. Prayer in group settings is an
interesting case. I think it’s an effective way of binding a community
together, precisely by its indirection. That is, by praying to God, rather than
addressing each other directly, we can say things via a third party (God) more
easily than saying it face to face. Prayer is an effective, yet safe, verbal
community binding agent! <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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More examples could be given. But the point is that having shared
and argued for a ‘progressive’ understanding of Christianity with my ALC
colleagues, in the following months I would end up critiquing and revising my
own position, effectively calling into question the very thing I argued for. At
that time, it led me to the conclusion that rather than describe myself as a
‘post-critical’ or ‘non-realist’ Christian, it would be better to not call
myself a Christian believer at all. <o:p></o:p></div>
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In my next post I’ll give a snapshot then of where I was in
early-mid 2015, and the events that then culminated in my exit (Lexit?) from
the ordained ministry. <o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14037503455553018979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699791844672993.post-3095717218661431432016-07-10T04:21:00.000-07:002016-07-10T04:21:53.489-07:00Faith journey (part 6)<div class="MsoNormal">
OK, so it’s been over 4 months since I last entered a post.
Being unemployed has actually been far busier than expected, and once you throw
in the odd heart attack, time gets away on you. So let’s see if I can finish off
this personal faith journey that led me out of ordained ministry to where I am
now. Since I’m not going to recap, you may need to re-read the last post to
pick up the thread…<o:p></o:p></div>
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Later in 2014, after I had spent time exploring some
so-called ‘progressive’ approaches to faith, I shared a confidential 20-page
faith statement with four ALC colleagues. It was, in effect, an effort to
re-cast my departure from belief as a non-realist faith: I no longer believed,
but I could still live by ‘faith’ in and through Christian symbolism, to embed
my literal ‘no’ within a symbolic ‘yes’. Drinking deeply from post-critical theology
and progressive Christian authors, I decided that this is how I could be honest
about my unbelief while at the same time justify my continued employment within
the institution. <o:p></o:p></div>
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So, for example, I didn’t hang back in stating what I no
longer believed. Expressing my ‘no’ to literal belief, I wrote:<o:p></o:p></div>
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For it seems to me that the <i>Jesus of history</i>, who lived and died in
1<sup>st</sup> century Palestine, was only human, like the rest of us. I do not
believe in any literal sense that he was (or is) divine, born of a virgin, or
physically raised from the dead. Nor do I believe that this same Jesus now
reigns in glory, is interceding for us sinners, or that he will return at the
end of time to judge the living and the dead. While I’m persuaded that he was a
gifted and charismatic religious teacher of his time, it was within the
movement that followed him that he progressively became the fully divine Son of
God. In short, already for the first Christians, Jesus was the <i>symbol</i> of God, but a symbol that would
soon become completely identified and indistinguishable from God’s own self. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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But on the other hand, I also made the case for a symbolic and
practical ‘yes’ to Christianity: <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Christianity is <i>not</i> about intellectually holding a set of beliefs or signing up to
certain propositions. But it <i>is</i> about
a particular way of being human and engaging in a particular set of practices
which order one’s life: reading and interpreting Scripture, cultivating an
inner life, participating in communal worship, practicing reconciliation and
forgiveness, listening to and receiving others hospitably, engaging in charity,
re-imagining a world, being reflective about life, truth and meaning, accepting
a form of discipline, striving to cultivate certain virtues and avoid certain
vices, and so on. Taken together, this is what it means to 'live by faith' —
faith that this is a better way to live, that this is a way that one can live
meaningfully, productively and honestly before God, in the world, and for
others. And the medium for generating and sustaining this kind of faith are the
Scriptural, doctrinal, and liturgical symbols of the Christian tradition.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Well, after much fear and trembling, I submitted this
statement to four trusted colleagues, ranging in theology from more traditional
to more liberal. Without necessarily
agreeing with me, none of them condemned me or threatened to ‘out’ me. All this
was immensely gratifying, even though I felt I had just formed a kind of secret
society. But furthermore, none of this could have a flow-on effect to my
teaching (and life in general) unless I enjoyed the freedom to voice these
opinions more widely. So the next step was to share some of these views at a
regular forum where teaching faculty are given a chance to present their latest
work or research. My four confidants became a little more uneasy here, and in
the end counselled me to present it, not as my own personal view, but as a view
‘out there’, as something current in the world of thought and theology. So I
presented my topic: <i>What is the Second
Naiveté? Engaging with Paul Ricoeur, Post-Critical Theology, and Progressive
Christianity</i>. As suggested, it was more academic, and less personally
committed. I ended with the words by Lutheran theologian, Ted Peters: <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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A wager is a risk, a bet. In this
case…we are betting that a hermeneutic of belief in the Christian gospel will
be more fruitful for living in the world than the sceptical conclusions
produced by a hermeneutic of suspicion. We will not forget our doubts. But we
will press on, trying to understand ourselves and the world around us in light
of the symbols of divine revelation. The wager is a form of hypothetical
belief, a self-entrustment to the world of meaning created by Christian
language (for full paper see my <a href="https://independent.academia.edu/LinardsJansons">Academia</a> site).<o:p></o:p></div>
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Of course, this wider audience was not fooled, and I think
they got a fair idea that to some degree I identified (note the past tense)
with this stuff. Most of the feedback was from retired professors, and most
asked questions which betrayed the categories in which they’ve thought and
taught for decades. One emeritus (probably more) in particular was definitely
not happy, but interestingly, has not pursued things further with me. But in
the end, I was thanked for taking people into ‘uncomfortable places’, and then
life went back to normal. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
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Good place to stop. Next post won’t be so long in coming. <o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14037503455553018979noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699791844672993.post-917894823199599282016-03-05T19:23:00.002-08:002016-03-08T13:21:54.957-08:00Faith Journey (part 5)<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As
I said in my last post (quite a while ago now) from 2011 onward I became aware
of a growing body of literature recounting the stories and struggles of theologians
and ordinary pastors who had left the faith and church altogether, or felt
increasingly torn between their own intellectual integrity and the doctrinal position
of their church (often their employer). A few examples are Richard Holloway’s <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Doubts-Loves-Richard-Holloway/dp/1841956414/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1457219672&sr=1-1&keywords=doubts+and+loves"><i>Doubts and Loves</i></a>, John Loftus’s <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Why-Became-Atheist-Preacher-Christianity/dp/1591025923"><i>Why I Became an Atheist</i></a>, Kenneth Daniel W. Daniels’ <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Why-Believed-Reflections-Former-Missionary/dp/0578003880"><i>Why I Believed: reflections of a former
missionary</i></a><i> , </i>and the
fascinating<i> </i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Caught-Pulpit-Leaving-Belief-Behind/dp/1634310209"><i>Caught in the Pulpit: leaving belief behind</i></a><i>, </i>edited by Daniel Dennett and Linda
LaScola (Lutheran pastors might be interested in this one). Reading these I
immediately felt that there was a community of people around the world whose
experiences were often similar to mine.</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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But despite resonating with the accounts of clergy who had
abandoned their Christian beliefs, I was hardly ready to envisage myself as a
non-Christian. Obviously there was the small matter of being a seminary
lecturer, but besides this, I also wanted to learn from those Christian
thinkers who fully recognized the challenges to orthodox belief, but chose to wrestle
with them inside the believing community. And so I immersed myself in the works
of ‘progressive’ and post-critical Christian theology, as well as the works of
pluralist theologians. The idea that one could still have <i>faith</i> without subscribing to specific dogmatic <i>beliefs</i> was one that I found quite appealing, as was the notion
that Christianity could have some unique practical and human value. In my next
post I’ll share a list of some of the books I was or am continuing to read. </div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Another stream feeding into my thinking at this time was
provided by my doctoral studies. For a start, my choice of PhD topic was a kind
of compromise between a traditional focus of our church (Luther’s commentary on
Genesis 3) and a field of contemporary thought (Paul Ricoeur’s theory of symbol
and narrative) which I felt would give me room to further explore some of these
issues both within and beyond our ecclesial boundaries. For a nice video introduction
to Paul Ricoeur see <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SAyjToJQDVY">here</a>.
Indeed, it was very heartening to discover a whole field of literature and thought
that I found intellectually critical on the one hand, but open to faith and the
transcendent on the other. It was through Ricoeur and others that a ‘post-critical’
faith, often termed a ‘second naiveté,’ began to present itself as a real
option.<o:p></o:p></div>
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2012 was entirely given over to advancing my PhD, and since
I would be returning to full time work the following year, I worked as I hard
as possible to make good progress. My proposal was accepted, and I began to develop
the shape and content of my thesis. The weeks and months oscillated between Ricoeur’s
world of contemporary hermeneutics and Luther’s 16<sup>th</sup> century Reformation
world, the common element being the human experience and understanding of evil.
But I also worked hard for another reason. During this time I continued to draw
a full salary, and so benefited from the church’s belief that I was a
long-term investment. With all honesty, I wanted to honour that trust placed in
me. So as well as straddling the worlds of Luther and Ricoeur, I also resolved to
find a way of negotiating my own two parallel universes of confessional
subscription and personal integrity. At the very least, I had to find a way of bracketing
or managing my personal convictions so they would not fundamentally interfere
with my calling and profession. <o:p></o:p></div>
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In 2013 I returned to full time ALC service (and part time
study) reinvigorated and ready to go. But it was not long before I realized how
hard it was to live in two worlds. While personally I found it liberating to think
and believe authentically, what daunted me was the inability to share these
views with anyone in the church – and that included a lot of people: colleagues,
students, friends and family. Of course, I could share my PhD journey with
anyone who cared to listen, or allude more indirectly to the issues this raised
for theology. But as a lecturer in pastoral theology entrusted with the task of
forming and educating candidates for the ministry, I could hardly say to my students,
“Well this is what the church teaches, but as for myself, I find it completely
untenable”. Even sharing too much with my colleagues was risky, not due to any
intolerance on their part, but because everyone knew that in this particular
vocation, <i>personal</i> faith is one of the
first job requirements! <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To give a sense of how I felt, here is how I described my
feelings of the time on a private forum I would join some time later (I’ll get
to that):<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">
The question is, should I just try
and focus on my list of responsibilities, and refuse to look the bigger
picture, year after year after year? I would, except there is a sense in which
this is almost impossible. For, by definition, the work of theology (like
philosophy) centres on those bigger picture issues: the meaning of life, our
origins and ends, the nature of humans, right and wrong, truth and falsehood.
It’s not at all that ‘I hate my job’ in the way most people understand it – far
from it. While a common complaint is ‘my work is meaningless’, in my case, it’s
the actual reverse: my work is <i>saturated</i>
with meaning, but a meaning I no longer own. This congestion of meaning is
particularly intense in my position of training pastors. It’s not good enough
simply to ‘respect the ethos’ of the Lutheran tradition in this place, as is
the case for administrative staff, for example. Nor is it good enough to know,
understand, and teach the faith, as might be the case with a religious studies
lecturer. No, I have to show, before others, that I <i>personally</i> own and live this faith, when I don’t. I have to pray,
lead liturgy, and say ‘This is the word of the Lord’, not just competently or
even proficiently, but <i>genuinely</i> and <i>authentically</i>. The best I can do at
times is to conceal my reticence. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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</div>
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On the family front this lack of authenticity was
also taking its toll on me personally. I’m not going to share much about this,
except to say that my predicament led me to become increasingly withdrawn and
non-communicative about my work and faith (even though by this stage I had
begun to admit to Jeanette where I was at). But as my children grew into
inquiring teenagers, I felt it was pretty poor going to either avoid
discussions about faith and life, or tow a line I myself didn’t hold. It was
especially difficult when asked questions like “Why did you become a pastor,
Dad?” or “Do you like being a pastor?”! <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So while 2013 had started out positively, by the end of the
year I felt more constrained by these pressures than ever before. And being the
kind of introvert that I am, the more burdened I <i>felt</i>, the less willing and able I was to <i>talk</i> about it. Depression and anxiety were setting in. I knew,
however, that I could not continue like this indefinitely. At the beginning of
2014, therefore, I resolved to do several things: first, to start writing down
what had, up to now, simply been swirling around in my mind; second, to find a
support network; and third, to start exploring other career options. As it
turned out, I did all of these things, and even more, which would be a first (and
probably the last) as far as New Year’s resolutions go!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<ul>
<li>In a private and confidential way, I began to open up to two
of my ALC colleagues, both of whom listened without judgment and offered their
support.</li>
<li>I began sharing more of my internal changes with my wife,
Jeanette, something she was well aware of by this stage. But now she would begin to realize that my ministry probably had a use-by date on it.</li>
<li>I developed friendships with two non-Lutheran clergy, one
who was very progressive, the other more rationalist. These guys were a great
help, and we stay in regular contact.</li>
<li>Probably the most radical move took place in January 2014, when
I applied to and joined <i><a href="http://clergyproject.org/">The Clergy Project</a></i>, an anonymous
online forum for clergy who no longer hold to supernatural beliefs, and are
trying to move out of ministry. This meant I was now in contact with hundreds
of clergy (or ex-clergy) in a similar situation to me.</li>
</ul>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
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</div>
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In mid-2014 I had several appointments with a career
counselor, as by now I felt I had no options but to leave my current calling.
My meeting with her confirmed that I enjoyed the kind of work I do – it’s just
that my beliefs were completely out of sync with the church! <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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So in the end, I <i>once
again</i> decided I wasn’t ready or able to seek other employment, but would
somehow try to ameliorate and manage the cognitive dissonance I had now lived with for several years. My main strategy here was to share my
journey with a few trusted colleagues, and hope that this would make things
more tolerable. More on that soon! <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14037503455553018979noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699791844672993.post-3696682520641166252016-02-22T21:30:00.000-08:002016-02-22T21:30:37.589-08:00I'm still hereFor those rare creatures who look at this blog or even read my posts, just letting you know that I haven't given up on recounting my spiritual/intellectual/whatever journey. We moved house a month ago, so together with the start of the school year (3 kids in high school now!) and keeping up with work and life in general, my blog cabin has been a bit neglected. But I hope to fix that soon...<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14037503455553018979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699791844672993.post-36148754812021518592015-12-27T23:07:00.000-08:002016-03-08T13:21:43.155-08:00Faith Journey (part 4)<div class="MsoNormal">
As I wrote in my last post, it was perhaps in 2006 that I
first became open to critiquing my beliefs, and at that time only in limited
areas. But it was when I began teaching at Australian Lutheran College that
these initial cracks began to form into chasms.
<o:p></o:p></div>
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As far as my first year was concerned (2010), most of my
energy was consumed learning the ropes and getting used to my new calling. As
is often the case with beginning lecturers teaching courses for the first time,
I was often only a couple of lectures ahead of schedule. It was also a rapidly
changing work environment, and before too long I was no longer the new kid on
the block. Professionally and socially, however, it was a great place to be,
despite the various stresses and pressures. But even though I can’t remember in
too much detail what I was thinking that year, I must have begun reading in a
number of areas that would prove to have life changing consequences. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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First and foremost was contemporary historical Jesus
scholarship (something I only did to a limited extent at Notre Dame). This
reading had no immediate connection with my current teaching areas (liturgy,
spirituality), nor would it become a focus on my doctoral studies. But it was
something I did to find answers for a number of questions which had been bothering
me for some time now. <o:p></o:p></div>
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A key issue related to the doctrine of Christ’s ‘second
coming’ (something I discuss at much greater length in my post “An Advent
Analysis: refiguring the return of Christ”). I became aware that many biblical
scholars now recognize that (a) Jesus believed the ‘end’ would come within his
or his disciples’ generation, (b) much – but not all – of the New Testament
operates with this presupposition, and (c) since this obviously didn’t
eventuate, the church has had to reinterpret these early expectations in a way
that protected Jesus from error. Obviously, this observation strikes directly at
orthodox belief, but despite that fact, I became increasingly convinced that
critical, and not orthodox, scholarship was more direct in dealing with these
matters. And because this critique called into question both the reliability of
the New Testament and its central figure, these were not views I could voice
with approval in front of students or even staff. As a teacher of theology in
the LCA I was now in dangerous waters.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I remember the disquiet caused by these new avenues of
thought. In the early months of 2011, as we spent many hours working in the back
yard of our seminary owned residence, I began to wonder how long we would
remain to enjoy it. Four years before my resignation I already had a sense of
where things might be heading. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Later in the year a further step was taken. I took my part in teaching a series of evening classes for members of the church,
a regular fixture of ALC’s program, and was asked to propose a topic. I chose
several that fell within the orbit of my competency, but also added a third
option – the ‘New Atheists’. I was urged to go with this choice as it was
considered to have more interest value. This proved to be a bit of a tightrope
experience, as it was assumed my task would be to defend the faith and
offer a robust response to the criticisms levelled at religion by Dawkins,
Hitchens and company. But in quite a few instances, I was in agreement with
their basic critique, directed as it was against realist conceptions of the
bible and Christianity, even if I was put off by their frequent
misrepresentations of ‘ordinary’ Christianity, or the belligerent tone of their
assault. So the approach I took for the evening classes was first and foremost to
<i>understand</i> the phenomenon of the New
Atheism. As I wrote in a series of articles published in <i>The Lutheran</i> the following year:<o:p></o:p></div>
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We did not undertake to present a
sure-fire way to refute and demolish the atheist platform. Our task was more
difficult: to listen carefully and understand their arguments and reasoning as
best we could. We didn't simply want to strike at their Achilles heel; rather,
we wanted to face up to the very best the new atheism has to offer. <a href="http://www.lca.org.au/an-unholy-trinity.html">http://www.lca.org.au/an-unholy-trinity.html</a>
<o:p></o:p></div>
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As it turned out, most of the participants appreciated this <i>modus operandi, </i>and since the others
already knew in their own minds why the New Atheists were wrong, my job was
made that little bit easier. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Another issue occupying my thoughts at this time concerned
the biblical accounts of the birth of Jesus, and the doctrine of the
incarnation which has traditionally been dependent on it. The view held by
many scholars that Matthew and Luke’s infancy narratives (Mt 1:18-2:23 and Lk
2:1-52) were at the least heavily embellished, and at the most pious fiction, persuaded me more than the orthodox attempts
to defend them. A host of reasons mounted concerning the fictive flavour
of these two passages (which popular piety usually rolls together as one): the
infancy narratives contradict each other on too many basic facts; they are
historically implausible and historically unsupported; they lack attestation by
the rest of the New Testament; they invoke naïve cosmology; they turn Old Testament
passages into prophecies in order to ‘fulfil’ them; they are deliberately modelled
on Old Testament narratives; they give Jesus divine ‘cred’ for a Greco-Roman
audience; and finally, you can find out all of this by reading reputable
biblical scholarship, and not only ‘radical’ theologians or unbelieving critics
(who themselves often draw on standard works of biblical scholarship!). <o:p></o:p></div>
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The claims just noted here one after the other are something
I’ll flesh out more in later posts. In terms of my faith journey, however, I
now had serious doubts about two key aspects of traditional belief about
Christ: his earthly beginnings and his final coming. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Then in October of 2011 I attended a ‘Hermeneutics
Symposium’ (a conference on biblical interpretation) which gathered many
Lutheran pastors and a number of overseas guest speakers. This was of deep
interest to me, as I was well aware that the conclusions one arrives at about
this or that biblical text or theological position is often determined by one’s
methodological approach. <i>How</i> you read
the bible will influence <i>what</i> you
think it is saying. What you <i>bring to</i>
a text has a lot to do with what you <i>take
out</i> of it. The conference was also stimulating because by this time I knew
I’d be taking a year off for study in 2012, with some kind of focus on
hermeneutical issues. However, it was also apparent that even though the
speakers were personally well versed in 20<sup>th</sup> century interpretation
theory, the range of ‘permissible’ views remained very narrow. It’s as if the
LCA wanted to show that it was abreast of hermeneutical developments while at
the same time hanging on to the safety of biblical inerrancy. One small incident sticks with me. During a
question time, I raised the matter of the contradiction between the two infancy
narratives, just to gauge if there was a willingness to take such questions on
board. I can’t remember what answer I received on the floor, but later on a
fellow LCA pastor/theologian in effect told me that such questions were
basically out of order. That’s right – in the LCA there are questions that you
simply should not raise in public. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Anyway, it seems that from 2011 onward, issue followed
issue, like an avalanche. It was a big step when I started to read and reflect
on the very human dynamics of belief itself (something to explore more fully
down the track). I came to realize that both the <i>intense need</i> as well as the <i>amazing
capacity</i> for human beings to believe is a plausible explanation of how
faith in any doctrine came about - the resurrection included. Once that
happened I started seeing far more clearly how ‘faith’ of any kind helps us connect
the dots of experience meaningfully and conquer chance and contingency with causes
and reasons. Faith simplifies the bewildering complexity of earthly existence, maintains
a ‘meaning framework’ for interpreting the joys and vicissitudes of life, and
sets our lives within a much grander narrative. And this is no bad thing at all
– it’s just very human. And once we believe, our perception and experience of
the world is then tailored to fit our belief system, and in turn becomes
increasingly immune and resistant to contrary information. Like a spiritual
immune system beliefs are remarkable resilient and can normally maintain themselves
in the face of any challenge or contrary viewpoint. But as I said, I want to
unpack this in a future post. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />
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Next time I want to recount how I began taking refuge in the
works of liberal and progressive theologians, to see if there was a way, as
they appeared to do, of maintaining a life of commitment to the church in the
face of serious doubt. In a similar vein, I’ll briefly touch on my year of doctoral
studies (without boring anyone’s pants). But I’ll also share how I became aware
of a growing collection of books written by ex-pastors, and my discovery that I
was not alone in this journey. <o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14037503455553018979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699791844672993.post-53305688686247389472015-12-15T06:00:00.000-08:002016-03-08T13:21:31.166-08:00Faith Journey (part 3)<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s hard to be precise when and why my beliefs started to
change. There were no sudden revelations, no blinding lights on the road. At
the time I wasn’t even aware that it <i>had</i>
begun to change. I do vaguely remember that one day, in my late 30’s, I woke up
with the feeling that my Christian faith and preaching needed to integrate the
‘real world’ a little bit more. For example, at this time (serving in Pasadena,
Adelaide) I had become interested in the basics of evolutionary theory, and was
encouraged in this direction by one of my vicars (in the LCA vicarage = an extended
practicum for seminary students) who had a previous career as a scientist. I decided
to read some books written by credible practitioners, rather than apologists
for creationism. Some of these were by secular scientists, others were by theologians
well qualified in the sciences, such as Alister McGrath who, while opposing
Richard Dawkins on the religion front, nevertheless accepted the basics of the
evolutionary model. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Looking back at a notebook I recently dug up I can see that
I engaged with Alister McGrath, <i>Dawkins’
God: Genes, Memes, and the Meaning of Life</i> and also Ted Peters and Martinez
Hewlett, <i>Evolution from Creation to New
Creation: Conflict, Conversation & Convergence.</i> Also at that time I was
perusing two volumes on evolutionary science and a lovely read on Gregor
Mendel, the unwitting father of modern genetics: Eugenie C. Scott, <i>Evolution vs Creationism</i>; Jonathon
Miller & Berin Van Loon, <i>Introducing
Darwin and Evolution</i>; Robin Marantz Henig, <i>A Monk and Two Peas.</i> Interestingly enough, this notebook also reminds
me of the Catholic philosophy I was reading and trying to understand in my
spare time: Fergus Kerr, <i>After Aquinas:
version of Thomism </i>and Ralph McInerny, <i>Aquinas.</i>
(Sorry, no bibliographic details for you librarians.)<o:p></o:p></div>
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I particularly remember leafing through the book by Eugenie
Scott one evening, and being struck with a sense of awe at the relatedness we
share with our fellow creatures. Of course, such an epiphany at our common
ancestry is quite congruent with Christian teaching on creation. As some of the
above volumes make quite clear, Christian thought has by and large integrated
this frontier of science into its theistic worldview, as I hope most students
in Lutheran colleges will have discovered. Anyway, all this enabled me to start dropping some of the lingering
creationist ideas I still held to, even though I never subscribed to
‘scientific creationism’ as a whole – due mainly to my theological education
which had taught me to appreciate biblical genres (like we find in Genesis) on
their own terms, rather than importing later questions into them. </div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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But apart from this, there was no effect on the rest of my
thinking, which would remain solidly ‘orthodox’ for some years yet. Two
incidents which come to mind confirm this. In mid-2005, while taking an extended holiday with my
family around the east coast, I dropped in on a public lecture being given by
some local Catholic theologian. I can’t remember exactly what the topic was,
but in broad terms it was about whether the traditional idea of the atonement
was a satisfactory explanation of the death of Christ. He presented a view that
explained the cause of Jesus’ death in political terms, but I can’t remember
much else, except that I was quite horrified that he seemed to deny that it was
for the sake of forgiveness and justification, which of course is a big thing
in traditional Christian teaching. I even remember correcting his views to the
lady sitting next to me! Apart from the fact that these are not things you
should be doing on your long service leave, I was obviously quite green about
what I have since taken more notice of – that all dogmas and doctrines are
human constructions, after the fact, for historical events which call out for
some kind of satisfactory resolution.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The other incident took place later that year at a Christmas
family gathering. I was given a book written by Bishop John Shelby Spong (<i>Rescuing the Bible from Fundamentalism</i>).
Unfortunately, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut and had to state my views that
even though I looked forward to reading it, he was a heretic all the same. That
didn’t go down so well. But at the same time, I wonder if there wasn’t a small
part of me that feared some of his conclusions more than I disagreed with them.
So, to the best of my memory, at the end of 2005 I was still firmly entrenched
in orthodox belief.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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However, over the next year I think there might have been more
mental processing going on than I realized. Because in 2006, when I was
scouting around for a university to pursue further study, I was becoming less
and less keen to attend any of the conservative US Lutheran seminaries that
many of our pastors have traditionally attended. There had also been for some
time a deep interest and attraction to the Roman Catholic tradition (made more
attractive by the steady stream of high profile Lutherans and Protestants swimming
the Tiber). As it turned out, because my interest at that time was in
liturgical studies, I applied for and was accepted into the Masters programme at
the University of Notre Dame, Indiana, USA. <o:p></o:p></div>
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This experience (mid 2007 – mid 2009) proved to be very
significant. I’ll just mention two factors. The first was that I really appreciated
the opportunity to get up to speed with recent biblical, philosophical, and theological
scholarship. Very soon it dawned on me that I had an awful lot of catching up
to do, but that Notre Dame was a very good place to do it, with the theology
and philosophy departments situated cheek by jowl in the same building. Now it
would be way too simplistic to think that university level theology <i>caused</i> my faith stance to change, or
corrupted it somehow. After all, most if not all of my professors there (some
Lutheran) were faithful and committed to their church traditions. Even more
telling, ND over the years has graduated many a conservative Lutheran graduate
student – after all, Fort Wayne is only a couple of hours down the highway. The
reality is that by this stage I had begun to think far more critically and
relished the opportunity to think outside of the boundaries set by our church
and tradition. And the more I did so, the more the huge disconnect between the
academy and the congregation began to dawn on me, and that (in my experience)
those in the pulpit were doing little to bridge that gap.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The other factor was being suddenly thrown into a different
culture, and a different church culture. At first we worshipped at one of the
local LC-MS (Missouri synod) congregations, where the people and especially the
pastor were quite hospitable and happy to have us there. We discovered first-hand
the well-established tradition of adult Sunday School, but above all, were
struck by the conservative (by our standards) view of the world which was of a
piece with the faith being taught. The simple, experiential insight this gave
me was how closely religion is tied up with culture, and how our view of
reality and even God is biased by the traditions we inherit. Hardly theological
rocket science, of course, but this was something that living there drove home
at an experiential level. In the end we settled for a more moderate LC-MS congregation.
But by this stage, probably compounded by study pressures, I started to
experience difficulties with prayer and worship more generally. I think this
was largely because for me these practices were too deeply linked to a
pre-critical faith stance, which was now making less and less sense to me. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Towards the end of our time at Notre Dame I applied for a
position that had come up at Australian Lutheran College. One American Friday in
March 2009, I flew out from South Bend, attended several interviews in Adelaide
on an Australian Saturday, and was back in time for my Monday lectures in the
USA. A month or two later I received news that beginning in 2010 I would start
work at ALC as lecturer in pastoral theology, specializing in the teaching of
worship and spirituality. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Obviously, with such good news, it was in everyone’s best interest
that whatever intellectual or spiritual journey I had begun, that it did not
venture too far from the straight and narrow. And when we returned to Australia
for a short 6 month interim placement for the second half of 2009, I was genuinely
committed to the calling I had received. </div>
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But as I was soon to discover, this was not to last...</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14037503455553018979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699791844672993.post-14652391675976087902015-12-02T16:33:00.000-08:002015-12-02T16:33:28.811-08:00An Advent AnalysisI have a new (unpublished) paper on Academia (see link at top right of this blog). It's called "An Advent Analysis: refiguring the return of Christ". The little introduction to it reads as follows:<br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Those familiar with the Christian liturgical
calendar will recall that the first Sunday of Advent continues the theme from
the previous week, the end of the age and the coming of Christ. Since we’re at that
time of year again, I thought it worth sharing some extended reflections on
this theme, provoked by an Advent sermon I listened to almost exactly two years
ago. It draws together a line of thought that biblical academics are quite
familiar with, even if this line rarely makes it into the pulpit. It follows
three sections: Recasting disappointment, Redeeming the text, and Refiguring
the return.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></i>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14037503455553018979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699791844672993.post-77759961373562318642015-11-29T02:03:00.000-08:002015-11-29T02:03:23.009-08:00Faith Journey (part 2)<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>In my last post I
briefly sketched out my years of uncritical faith, up to about 2006, after
which I think I can detect the first glimmer of change. But before I turn to
that, I want to reflect briefly on what prevented those changes taking place
much earlier. What kept me in a state of uncritical, realist faith for so many
years?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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After all, it’s not as if I lived a theological bubble,
completely sealed off from the world. Of course I was aware that alternative ways of understanding life, the
universe and everything existed. And not just in the world outside the church,
but also held by many members of the church itself. And so naturally, my faith also
was populated with lots of little question marks. But here’s the thing to
understand: <b>any doubts I did have were kept
safely on the margins of thought, on the back benches of my mind, where they
could have no real say</b>. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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This state of mental quarantine was reinforced by a number
of factors. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The most important of these, as obvious as it sounds, was simply
the influence of other Christians and the believing community as a whole. Most
of my family and friends, mentors and teachers were Christian, and so it’s no
surprise that my own beliefs were shaped by the common faith. This was all the
more with those whose approval I sought or friendship I valued. I don’t think
this is terribly unusual: we are social creatures, after all, and it’s commonly
recognized that long before we assent to our beliefs or opinions consciously,
the tradition we belong to has already determined our basic outlook. The effect
of this was that even when alternatives or objections to Christian belief
possessed real merit, they could easily be kept at a safe difference. There was
simply no need, or desire, to engage with opinions that others were not
bothering with. In short, our need to <i>belong</i>
more often than not shapes the way we will <i>believe</i>. <o:p></o:p></div>
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And this leads to a second factor. If you had invested a
good part of your life in a religious vocation, as I had done, it didn’t make
practical sense to think too seriously about intellectual challenges to the
faith. Why challenge the very way of life that gives your life meaning, purpose
and a salary? Not that I thought of it in those terms. But if you have a sermon
to prepare, a bible study to lead, a confirmation class to teach, a pastoral
visit to conduct, and a persona to maintain, it makes no sense to be thinking
against the grain. Nothing would ever get done that way. In fact, it would
paralyze you. Even when my views did begin to change, I just had to shut the
door on such thoughts in the acts of leading worship or teaching or pastoral care.
For much of the time, the state of my soul was determined by the demands of my
role. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The third factor was the regular – almost daily – practice
of bible reading and prayer. For many years the habit of scripture meditation achieved
precisely what such spiritual exercises are designed to achieve – to keep you
believing, reading and praying, and generally enmeshing you more deeply in the
Christian thought world. For we know that without language, (human) thought is
not possible. From our earliest years onward, language heard and spoken shapes
both our conscious and unconscious mental world. The biblical passages I read
and meditated on likewise shaped the pattern of my thinking. By praying my
beliefs I confirmed them and incrementally sharpened my take on reality. At the
time, of course, I understood this as the work of the Holy Spirit, who works
through the word of God to create and sustain faith, and who reveals truths
that reason could never arrive at. Formed in Lutheran piety, I prayed that the Holy Spirit would always
guide me into the truth and keep me from error, shape my emotions, heal my
desires, direct my will, and generally bring about in my life whatever the text
was on about. <o:p></o:p></div>
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What’s more, the worldview gained from such spiritual
reinforcement served to <i>frame and
interpret</i> any doubts, struggles, or temptations I did experience. Any number of biblical passages (and centuries
of Christian reflection) interpret doubt in such a way to reinforce faith. The
human person is dead in sin (Ephesians 2:1-5), hard of heart (Psalm 95:8), spiritually
blind and deaf (Mark 8:17-18), and naturally incapable of grasping the things
of God (1 Corinthians 2:12-14). We naturally prefer the darkness of sin to the
light of truth (John 3:19-20). And that’s not even mentioning the presence of the
evil one who works day and night to undermine our faith (Matthew 13:19; 1 Peter
5:8). The net result of this is that any objection to Christian belief is
framed within the very categories provided by the belief system itself. The
believer then comes to believe that this is <i>precisely</i>
what they can expect. Place your trust in the word, and without a doubt (!) the
evil one will sow his thorns and weeds. <o:p></o:p></div>
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As a theological student this inoculation against heresy was
carried even further. For one of the curious facts is that practically every
argument against the factual and historical truth claims of Christian dogma has
been raised by biblical scholarship. (If you want to seriously question the virgin
birth, the resurrection, biblical miracles, or the last times, get into some
contemporary biblical scholarship, much of which has kept apace, and even
broken new ground, in the field of hermeneutics). However, I remember being
urged by mentors and teachers not to take this stuff on board! For these so-called
biblical scholars were infected by liberalism, they had ‘axes to grind’, they
were captive to the spirit of the age, they were products of outdated
‘Enlightenment thinking’, they were casualties of twentieth century apostasy.
Once again, I was being taught to negatively interpret anything that challenged
the faith - even it came from reputable biblical scholarship. <o:p></o:p></div>
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All three factors – the believing community, the demands of
vocation, the practice of prayer and meditation – served to marginalize (but
not eradicate) any alternative to Christian belief. <o:p></o:p></div>
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All the same, I think it’s worth pointing out that my
portrayal makes it seem more clear cut than it probably was. (That’s the nature
of narrative, it tends to tidy up the irregularities and inconsistencies of
lived experience.) So I’ll conclude this longer than anticipated post with
several small spanners that always seemed to obstruct the effective working of
my faith.<o:p></o:p></div>
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First, there was no time that I ever felt comfortable with
witnessing or sharing my faith with non-believers, unless I knew them really
well. Public manifestations of thankfulness ‘to my Lord and Saviour Jesus
Christ’ made me cringe. Obviously this
was a liability as a pastor, and made me feel somewhat guilty and cowardly.
Once again, I could interpret this ‘weakness’ in categories provided by the
faith itself (e.g., Matthew 10:32-33). Even so, I put a lot of this down to
personality. I was comfortable enough defending, explaining and promoting the
faith to those who wanted to listen – but figured that evangelism just wasn’t
my gift. But furthermore, no matter what the faith taught, I just couldn’t get
gripped by the urgency of saving people from eternal damnation, simply on
account of their not believing the way we did. It just seemed to stretch
reality too far. I did occasionally preach on judgment or hell, if the text
suggested it. And I was deeply concerned that my <i>own</i> children should grow up in the faith. But it seemed harder to
generalize this concern beyond the circle of my immediate family.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Another faith spanner was my sneaking suspicion that prayer
and intercession did not really have much (or any) effect on the state of the
world, apart from the effect it had on the person praying, or on the person who
was told that others were praying for them. As a pastor I repeatedly prayed my
way through the membership list of my congregation, asking God to keep them in
faith , to bring them to faith, to let the word of Christ produce fruit in their
lives, and so on. As I grew in maturity and hopefully humility, I not only
prayed <i>for</i> them, but <i>with</i> them, recognizing that we are all
cut from the same cloth. But despite all the biblical promises about prayer,
and despite the assurances that prayer is a secret and hidden work whose
outcome in known to God alone, I found
myself wondering. In most cases it just seemed that a person’s commitment to
church and faith came down to fairly observable sociological reasons, such as
the need for community, the solace of religion in times of need, their upbringing,
personality, and so on. Prayer by itself seemed to have very little to do with
it, unless ‘converted’ into tangible action. In this sense praying was not much
different to the way thinking about others can lead (ideally) to helping and
engaging with others. Hence the saying: ‘Prayer does not change things, but it
changes people who change things’. Fair enough. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But as I’ve said, such ‘doubts’, if that’s what they were,
stayed on the edges of my thought – they did not get the stage, nor did they
hold the microphone. My beliefs continued to form my view of reality, and largely
because it ‘worked’ so well. Christian faith gave me a highly effective framework
to interpret almost any experience, in particular the experience of failure and
fallibility, and did so in a way that only validated its narratives, doctrines,
practices, and values all the more. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Next time I'll start writing about how the challenges to orthodoxy began to take center stage and how my belief system began to change. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14037503455553018979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699791844672993.post-86460687817380207442015-11-15T02:42:00.001-08:002018-09-11T06:13:49.516-07:00Faith Journey (part 1 of about 10)<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>In the next 10 or so posts I want to
recount my faith journey, especially focusing on the changes that have taken
place over the last 5 or so years. Obviously it involves other people, but as
much as possible I’ll keep names out of it, except for published authors. It’s
not a comprehensive autobiography – just a bare bones account to help you understand
how I’ve arrived at where I’m at now. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I grew up in a Christian household which included regular
church-going and occasional involvement in other church activities. I was
exposed to a devotional piety which included bible reading and personal prayer—my
father in particular had been influenced by a deeply spiritual and evangelical
lay leader in our Latvian congregation, and also by one of Billy Graham’s
crusades. We joined the Lutheran Church
of Australia (LCA) when I was 10 years old, and this meant I could at last understand
what was going on in church. I attended Sunday School and eventually
confirmation lessons, where I did quite well. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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As a child and young teenager, Christianity, in its Adelaide
hills Lutheran manifestation, was simply part of my background. In these early
years and right through (public) high school, I don’t recall making any
conscious or deliberate effort to ‘follow Christ’ or grow in my faith. However,
it left its mark in a few ways. The first was a basic moral framework, which I
didn’t always follow, and a fairly sensitive conscience, to remind me of the fact.
The second was a belief in a hidden spiritual world and the danger of occult
powers (witchcraft, Satanism, etc.) which ‘spooked’ quite a bit. A third
was the conviction that God could be called on to provide help in trouble,
which I considered validated in a few experiences.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I underwent a kind of spiritual awakening around age 19-20
and became involved with youth and study groups, both Lutheran and Baptist. The
latter was quite significant, as there, for the first time, I
encountered a vibrant youth spirituality, and made some friendships which
remain current to this day. I also developed a piety based on bible reading and
prayer, and began thinking about a future vocation. An aimless liberal arts
course became a teaching degree, which then led on to a year at Lutheran
Teachers' College. It was at this time (1988) that I became completely ‘taken’
with theological study, something that would consume me for years to come, and
in some sense is still with me. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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However, I had no idea at the time how deeply conservative and
untouched by modern thought was the theology I was imbibing. Premised on notions of biblical
inerrancy, my education gave me no real opportunity to engage with contemporary
theological trends. And if it did, I wasn’t interested. In those rare moments
when I did encounter modern theology, I didn’t understand it, and still less
accepted it. Whether by upbringing or temperament or education, the theological
worldview I was passively adopting and actively constructing could be described
as an ‘uncritical naive realism’. At an age when people often question their
faith for the first time, I was busily building defenses against such questions.
I was becoming quite dogmatic, and loved it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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So when I received a teaching placement in a Lutheran
Primary school on the Gold Coast, it soon became apparent to myself and those
around me that I’d rather be ensconced in theological studies than starting a classroom
career. To my delight, I was accepted into Luther Seminary, and after seeing
out two long years of teaching, I began my training for the ordained ministry. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The next five years were very formative. I was
impressionable, eager, and competitive. As well gaining a basic theological
education I also became aware of the supposed battle lines drawn across the
church. Labels such as ‘confessional’, ‘liberal’,
‘pietistic’, ‘church growth’, ‘orthodox’, ‘charismatic’, and ‘liturgical’ would
start taking on significance for me. (We even invented a few, like ‘caftan
theology’.) At the end of 1995, when I was ordained, my theology and practice
was still conservative, but I should stress, not fundamentalist or biblicist –
at least by our church’s standards. For unlike my earlier entree into
theological education, this time it was impossible not to engage with a range
of theological opinions, and to some extent, my teachers did represent a broad-ish
range of views on the theological spectrum. Nevertheless I prided myself (in a
humble way, <i>of course</i>) on being
‘orthodox’, ‘confessional’ and ‘liturgical’. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Half way through my degree I married Jeanette, who comes
from a committed and conservative Lutheran family. As a semi-outsider, this was
possibly more educational than I realized at the time, for while I was strong
on theology, the realities of rural Australian Lutheranism was
something I had little exposure to. <o:p></o:p></div>
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As it turned out, my first parish was in Hamilton, Victoria,
where for the next five years my existing theological inclinations would be encouraged
and confirmed by conservative mentors and members both locally and
throughout the district. Responding to what I perceived as both liberal and ‘church-growth’
threats to orthodoxy, I would become increasingly aligned with the
‘confessional’ wing in the church. During this time I also become interested
in, perhaps even enamoured of, the more catholic expressions of the Lutheran
tradition. This was exacerbated when some friends and colleagues themselves joined the Roman Catholic Church. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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In late 2000 I accepted the call to serve the congregation
in Pasadena, Adelaide. Here I encountered a more ecumenical (but still
conservatively Protestant) congregational culture, which meant that my confessional
and liturgical commitments met with occasional resistance, or at least
disagreement. It’s hard to say whether some of these differences were a matter
of theology, piety, or personality. But on the whole, my ministry was accepted
and supported, even if a few were relieved when I finally left. I worked with
many fine people, and was guided and assisted by colleagues whose advice and
friendship I genuinely valued. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Even though I was starting to contribute to the life of the wider church (e.g., through its liturgical commission) and pondering the possibility of further study, it was also in my later years at Pasadena (2006-2007) that my
thinking and beliefs first began to change. But before I start
describing that, I want to reflect on what <i>prevented</i>
those changes from taking place much earlier. That will be my next post. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14037503455553018979noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699791844672993.post-75482722239610642152015-10-14T15:47:00.000-07:002015-10-14T15:47:47.423-07:00Why blog?<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m not a natural born blogger. I also take a long time
before I press the ‘publish’ button. And since I also keep my own diary of
thoughts and ideas, why blog? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m aware that my decision to leave the ministry, and especially
the reasons for doing so, have caused some consternation, sadness, and perhaps
also a sense of betrayal. Even anger in a few cases. This could well be the
case if you are one of my former pastoral ministry students, or if I was once
your pastor in the congregation. If I taught you, prayed with you, and led you
in the service of word and sacrament, how can I now seem to turn my back on
that? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s for this reason that I’d like to keep blogging. I do
care about the effects of my decision, and I don’t want you to think that all
we shared was meaningless. You are important! Hopefully you’ll gain a glimpse
of my reasons, and while not necessarily agreeing with them, you’ll know they don’t come from ill feeling or lack of
regard. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There’s another reason I’d like to blog. I believe there’s a
need for more exposure to the ideas which have been part of academic discussion
for decades and centuries, but have barely begun to trickle down to the pews. I
can understand that you might be saddened by my defection, but I don’t think
you should be shocked. For my journey is not at all uncommon, and the
conditions and ideas that made it possible are all around us. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So here’s my plan for future blogs.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>First, </b>I’d like
to share my own journey: how I got from the pastor you once knew to the person
I am now. The change which you became aware of suddenly, did not for me come
out of the blue. There is a story to be told, and I want to tell it as
helpfully as I can. There’ll be nothing dramatic or scandalous in it, but
nevertheless, in reading it you might find experiences and perspectives that
you can relate to. That might take a few posts.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Second</b> – and this
will be more ongoing – I want to take up specific aspects of Christian faith
and belief and examine them with the kind of openness I could not when I was
under ordination vows. If I’ve received questions from you, hopefully I can also
weave them in. To some this might sound like I’m ‘attacking’ the faith, and I
don’t deny that there will be a critical side to what I write. But it won’t be
criticism out of hostility. Rather, I will simply and honestly state how I see
things – but without the need to censor my statements or make them acceptable to
a confession I no longer hold. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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However, this critical aspect will also serve a positive purpose.
From critique, I’d like to move to restoration, that is, to recover how the <i>beliefs</i> of the Christian worldview might
look if taken as <i>symbols</i>, as
expressions (or constructs) of the religious imagination. In short, how might
beliefs that are no longer regarded as divinely inspired still have human value?
If no longer received as <i>revelation</i>,
how might core convictions still be <i>revealing</i>
of who we are as religiously oriented beings?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m not envisioning that I can actually do this for every
doctrine or belief. And so there will be
a <b>third</b> kind of blog entry in which
I mull over the value of Christianity and religion in a far more general way. Here
I’m guided by a number of (post)Christian authors who, while arriving at
conclusions similar to many agnostics, atheists and sceptics, choose nevertheless
to spin it differently. Such authors agree that many beliefs in literal or
realistic sense are no longer
sustainable, since they are products of another time and culture. But they also
recognize that we in the 21<sup>st</sup> century are not so different from the
people in whom those beliefs first arose. Even if dogmatic orthodoxy is losing
its grip on us, we are not less religiously susceptible. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So that’s what I think I’ll have a go at. These may not be
your kind of questions or concerns, but they are mine. I don’t for a moment
claim to have arrived at ‘the truth’, nor is anything I write beyond criticism.
So feel free to respond as you will.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For now, here’s a signature quote by the philosopher Paul
Ricoeur, whose long career traversed the tensions between faith and philosophy.
<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;">Does that mean that we could go back to a primitive naïveté?
Not at all. In every way, something has been lost, irremediably lost; immediacy
of belief. But if we can no longer live the great symbolisms of the sacred in
accordance with the original belief in them, we can…aim at a second naïveté in
and through criticism. In short, it is through <i>interpreting </i>that we can <i>hear
</i>again (<i>The Symbolism of Evil</i>,
351).</span><o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14037503455553018979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699791844672993.post-18765499295768610152015-10-04T00:04:00.000-07:002015-10-04T00:04:25.385-07:00A short statement of 'belief'<div class="MsoNormal">
In my opening post I mentioned that I could no longer
reconcile my personal worldview and beliefs with the confession of the church.
In this post I’ll try and summarize my position as best I can, leaving the
details for future entries.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In essence, I’ve come to the view that Christianity is an
entirely natural and human phenomenon<i>.</i>
Like any other religion or worldview, it is a product of human culture, and
like culture, it continues to grow and change. It is just one way that one
group of humans came to understand their place in the world and live in it.
Along with an increasing number of Christians, I hold to a ‘non-supernatural’
view of the Christian faith. In other words, I don’t take the miraculous and
mythical elements in the bible and creeds as literal facts or historical
events, but rather, as a product of <i>human
</i>faith and belief.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Just to be clear on this score: all the things Christians
are traditionally assumed or expected to believe, I now regard as entirely human
constructs, and no more: the bible as
divinely inspired, Jesus as divine, the virgin birth, the literal resurrection,
interventionist miracles, angels and demons, heaven and hell – all these I see
as products of <i>human</i> religious communities.
Of course, that is not to dismiss them as irrelevant or stupid. On the
contrary, there is much to be gained in reflecting upon these beliefs as powerful
<i>symbols</i> of the Christian worldview,
and indeed, the Christian world is the soil from which our modern western
culture has emerged. But that’s for other posts to discuss in detail. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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So to return to the main thread...what am I then? Rather
than trying to find a neat religious label to wear, I am content to simply
state the following: as one of 7.37 billion poor mortals on this fragile planet,
I am amazed by the miracle of existence, of life, of consciousness, and of the
human spirit. There is such a profound mystery to this natural universe that I
don’t need to believe in any further supernatural realities. Everything in life
is already the most profound miracle you could ask for. Many people (and
theologians too) give the name ‘God’ to this mystery, and that is something
that I can live with. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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For me, the best response to this mystery is to be as honest
as I can about what I do and don’t believe, to try and understand other
viewpoints as fairly and as charitably as I can, and to always be willing to
revise my opinions, no matter how sacred or securely held they are. In my
opinion, it is far better to remain agnostic about life’s greatest mysteries, rather
than accept beliefs that you secretly doubt simply out of loyalty to one’s
church or tradition. I just don’t think you can ‘wear’ someone else’s belief
unless that belief has its own inherent power to convince you. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I am content to regard myself as a <b><i>listener</i></b><i> </i>to the Christian tradition. And as we
know, the purpose of good listening is not to rush to conclusions about who is
right and wrong, but to better understand. Even by traditional standards,
listening is the greater half of faith. But at the same time, I am also a
listener to other traditions, in particular the secular and philosophical
tradition of Western culture. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Another way I like to think of myself now is a <b><i>friend</i></b><i> </i>of the Christian tradition. A friend
cares, a friend takes an interest, a friend chooses to see the best in another.
But a friend does not have to agree with everything you say. It is the mark of
friendship that you might view the world in completely different ways – any
many fine novels and movies are based on this observation. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One more term that could describe my position is that of <b><i>secular
Christian</i></b>. On the one hand, I am secular because my worldview and
understanding of reality is shaped by modern science, history and philosophy –
not the supernatural assumptions people held in biblical times or previous
centuries. On the other hand, I have been irreversibly shaped by the Christian
tradition, and I resonate with many of its key symbols and values. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I believe that <b><i>how you live</i></b> is much more important
than what you happen to believe. Beliefs are inherited from our specific respective
traditions. But kindness, generosity, respect, and friendship – are understood
by people everywhere, and celebrated by all the great traditions. I’m not
saying I excel in any of these – I wish I did! – but they are the things worth
aiming for.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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If we are to talk about ‘beliefs’ or ‘believing’, I would
understand it in terms of <b><i>what one cares about</i></b><i>,<b> </b></i>or
what one thinks is important. So on this basis I ‘believe’ the following:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<ul>
<li>life <span style="text-indent: -18pt;">is an irreplaceable gift and a precious
endowment;</span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">we humans are flawed, our own worst enemy,
curved in on ourselves (as Luther said), forever creating and being enslaved by
idols of our own making;</span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">we often resort to ‘the law’ to bring our
unstable and selfish natures into line, but far better is when we experience
true, inner transformation, which we</span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">
</span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">(along with many other traditions) describe as ‘grace’;</span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">often we are brought to a point where we must
‘die’ to ourselves if we are going to experience newness of life;</span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">life can be understood as a pilgrimage that
leads one in a three-steps-forward two-steps-back progression from bondage to
freedom;</span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;"> </span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">at the end of our lives we realize that love and
the quality of our relationships matter far more than our achievements and
material possessions;</span></li>
</ul>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All these ‘beliefs’ are emphasized by Christian faith, and
one can value them (as I do) regardless of what we believe about stories and
doctrines that serve to express them. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Another way of putting this, one that I have come across
countless times in my reading, is the <b><i>distinction between belief and faith</i></b>.
Beliefs are certain views you hold about what is actual or real, about what
‘really happened’. Because beliefs grow out of a certain time and culture, they
will inevitably change. But faith is a particular approach to life which is marked
by how you live and what you care about, as I’ve just described above. The
person of faith I have in mind could live within their religious tradition
without accepting its beliefs as statements of fact. As many Christians are
increasingly doing, inherited beliefs which can no longer be held literally can
instead be taken as <b><i>symbols</i></b> which provide a means for reflecting upon and deepening
one’s life of faith.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
More on these things to follow...please feel free to
comment.<o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14037503455553018979noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699791844672993.post-37912875806333469872015-08-05T16:17:00.001-07:002015-08-05T16:17:46.720-07:00What is the Second Naivete?Check out my newly uploaded paper on Academia: What is the Second Naivete? Engaging with Paul Ricoeur, Post-Critical Theology, and Progressive Christianity. Click on the Academia link to get there.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14037503455553018979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699791844672993.post-34493109883984627852015-07-30T01:29:00.002-07:002015-08-02T23:53:54.620-07:00Statement for LCA members, pastors, church workers<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-US"><b>Hi, and welcome to this blog. If you are reading this, it probably means you’ve received a link to it via an LCA notification. For now, this no-frills site simply serves to share some information, and receive any comments you care to make. Hopefully it will grow into a more active blog as time goes on. We’ll see.</b><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">By now you have probably heard that I have resigned from the pastorate of the LCA, and hence from my teaching position at ALC. Naturally, this may have raised questions in your minds as to why this has happened, so I’d like to give a brief explanation of my decision.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">In short, I have left the ordained ministry of the LCA because I can no longer reconcile my personal worldview and beliefs with the confession of the church. On the one hand, I continue to share many of the church’s values and aspirations, and consider myself a friend of the Christian tradition. But on the other hand, I no longer hold many of the specific doctrinal claims and assertions of the Christian faith (at least in the way they are traditionally understood). Arriving at this position has not happened overnight, but has been a journey spanning at least half a decade, and possibly longer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">For some time I managed to keep my private intellectual position separate from my public responsibilities, and despite where my own thinking was, continued to support and promote the objectives of the church. In particular, I was mindful not to compromise the pastoral and educational formation of students at ALC. In my professional capacity it was as much my desire as my colleagues’ to ensure that students progressed to the fullest possible understanding and appreciation of the Lutheran tradition. Even now, I value this objective. Nevertheless, you can also appreciate that maintaining a ‘double act’ between private views and public calling could only last for so long, and for the sake of maintaining both my own and the church’s integrity the time eventually came to step aside.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">In order to put to rest any other speculations that may be circulating about my decision, there are a few other things worth mentioning. First, my decision to resign is not a result of any marriage or family difficulties, but is solely the result of my own intellectual journey. My family continues to worship in the LCA, and I myself am not planning on joining any other denomination, group or faith. Furthermore, I am not hurt by or angry with the church, or its leaders, or with any of my colleagues. On the whole, I feel well treated by the institution of the church, and in particular will always remember my time at ALC with fondness and gratitude. In fact, it is with some grief that I end my time there, as I am leaving a wonderful team of people, and I sincerely wish the best for this institution.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">While many of you will be content with the
information I’ve supplied here, others may be interested in the details of my
personal and intellectual path. As I said at the start, I hope to post some more in-depth accounts of my journey before too long, </span>as the world of philosophy, faith and worldviews is an abiding interest of mine. But <span lang="EN-US">in the meantime, if you ask or email me directly, I would usually </span>be happy to share some of my reflections with you, keeping in mind that it's not my intent to foist my views on or proselytize anyone. </div>
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<span lang="EN-US">I wish you all the very best in your work of service and ministry, and look forward to maintaining friendships with you, albeit under different circumstances.</span></div>
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