Not the Christianity I knew: The Bible

Fred Clark over at Slacktivist has put his finger on something that I've tried to explore before, without much success.

I've talked (at considerable length) about how strange the more fundamentalist, Biblical inerrancy forms of Christianity seem to me. That's not what I grew up in; that's not the Christianity I remember at all. It seems to get so wrapped up in trying to get all the little details correct that it misses the larger point: God's love for us, and the love we need to show our neighbors. Too busy looking at the trees - or the individual leaves - to see the forest.

Bruce Gerencser, who spent most of his life as an Evangelical pastor, doesn't entirely agree. He points out, rightly, that the Bible is the basis of Christianity. He also points out that without the Bible, you essentially don't have Christianity.[1] At some point, you have to either say that the Bible is (in some sense) authoritative, or else you have to ask why you use it at all.

And this was where I ran aground. Because I felt like there was a fundamental difference between the way Bruce treated the Bible as authoritative (back when he was a Christian), and the way I was taught to treat the Bible as authoritative (back when I was a Christian). But I couldn't really put my finger on what that difference was.

And then, some months later, Fred Clark started discussing different approaches to reading the Bible. The two approaches he describes are, roughly, reading the Bible as a story - the way I was taught - versus reading the Bible as an Authority, the way Bruce was taught.

As a story, the lessons of the Bible are more about the character of God, mainly as revealed through the story of Jesus. The specific points of moral instruction are contextual, and sometimes ambiguous. Matthew 22:37-40 becomes paramount: "On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets." All the other rules and guidelines in the Bible are special cases of the two primary laws (love God, and love your neighbor as yourself); if a specific instruction seems to violate these laws, then you're either reading the instruction wrong, or applying it incorrectly. And, theologically, what you find is this: God loves us; while He does not expect perfection, he wants us to have faith and do our best; God is not an asshole.

When read as an authority, every detail in the Bible is important. If Leviticus says that a man lying with another man is an abomination, then that is an unchanging and incontrovertible truth. If the Matthew speaks of the unrighteous being sent into the eternal fire prepared for the Devil and his angels, then that is what will happen - no question about it. The fact that Matthew appears to be talking about the mandate to help the poor, imprisoned, and powerless is irrelevant. That the Bible is largely concerned with social justice and virtually ignores the "evils of homosexuality" is equally irrelevant; Leviticus says it's an abomination. The fact that these readings and others like them make God look like an asshole is beyond irrelevant - to most people who read the Bible this way, it seems to be invisible.

I don't have a religious stake in this. I'm not a Christian, so it isn't my theology or exegesis under discussion, not in any meaningful sense. By the same token, I don't have any real, well, authority to say that the folks who insist on using the Bible as an authority (a "paper pope", to borrow a term) are reading it wrongly, or at least poorly. I think they're missing the point, but they have no reason at all to take my word for it.

I do, however, have a personal stake in this. For one thing, I firmly believe that reading the Bible as a story promotes better religion: a faith with a stronger sense of social justice, a belief that doesn't feel the need to be in opposition to science, a Christianity more concerned with being good neighbors than getting everything exactly right. For another thing... well, let me put it this way: when your idea of "Good News" starts with, "You're a sinner and you're going to burn in Hell for eternity," you have a problem. Even if you're technically correct[2], you're missing the point. As an unbeliever, naturally I don't agree with you, but here's the thing: I would have disagreed with you back when I was a Christian, too. So really, the less of this sort of thing I have to hear, the better. And the same applies to quite a number of other, similarly nit-picky arguments that I hear from would-be evangelists and apologists.

Reading the Bible as a story is difficult. It requires the reader to be comfortable - or to get comfortable - with uncertainty, ambiguity, doubt... what Keats referred to as "Negative Capability". It means considering that the Bible might be less God's instructions for human beings, and more a record of Humanity's attempt to understand God. It means admitting that "I don't know" is a valid answer. It leaves a very great deal up to the conscience of the individual believer - a lot more than the Bible-as-Authority approach does, anyway. Small wonder that "this is How It Is" is so much more appealing as a message.

But it also allows you focus on the important parts - loving God, loving your neighbor - rather than getting distracted by trivia. It lets you relax, and - I hope - really enjoy the comfort and peace that faith is supposed to bring, but so often doesn't. Perhaps most importantly, it dramatically lowers the chance that you'll end up making God look like an asshole.

That was the Christianity I knew.

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[1] I don't entirely agree with this; as with a lot of these issues, I find myself thinking that it's a bit more complicated than that, or in this case that that isn't the only way to do it. I think you could have a Christianity based on oral tradition. As it happens, Christianity is based on a written tradition instead... but I think if you look closely, you'll find that a lot of oral tradition gets incorporated as well. How much, and what, depends upon the denomination and the individual church.

[2] Biblical references to Hell are startlingly sparse and ambiguous, especially if you compare them to how much space Hell occupies in Christian oral tradition - and how absolutely certain many Christians seem about its literal existence. For the record, Dante's Inferno is not a book of the Bible. Neither is Paradise Lost.

Not The Christianity I Remember: Christmas

"Keep the Christ in Christmas."

I remember that admonition from my youth. We heard it in our church, preached from the pulpit. Don't let the world distract you. Don't get so caught up in buying presents and celebrating the end of the year that you forget that we're also celebrating the Birth of Christ. For us, as Christians, that is the Reason For The Season.

I'm not a Christian anymore. And after decades of silence, I'm hearing the admonition again. "It's okay to say 'Merry Christmas'." "Keep the Christ in Christmas." "Jesus is the reason for the season."

But somehow, here in America, the meaning has changed. What I remember is an admonition from Christians, to Christians. "Don't forget why this season is important to us, as Christians." It was the remembrance of the Savior's coming, and the hope for His coming again.

When I hear it now, it is neither of those. It's not just okay to say "merry Christmas". To a certain mindset, it's mandatory. Anything else is not Politically Correct. If I say, "Happy Holidays," it's not because I hope you'll have an enjoyable New Year, too. It's because I'm part of a vast and vicious conspiracy to rob Christmas of its true meaning.

"Keep the Christ in Christmas" has become, not a reminder from Christians, to Christians; but rather a way to bludgeon non-Christians, or not-sufficiently-Christians, with the idea that this is a Christian Holiday.

It isn't. It never was. Look at the Bible. Jesus wasn't born in December. He wasn't born in the winter at all. Look at all the other imagery associated with the midwinter celebration: evergreens, mistletoe, the holly and the ivy, exchanging gifts... these are fundamentally (and originally) pagan things. And these things have been part of the celebration for centuries.

Yes, Christmas is the Holy Day when Christians celebrate the birth of Christ. No, it isn't purely that. It never has been. Relax. The term "Xmas" has been in use since at least 1700, probably longer. It goes hand-in-hand with the use of "Xtian" (or "Xpian") for Christian. There's no modern conspiracy to remove Christ's name* from Christmas by substituting an X. And if it's an ancient conspiracy, it's been failing for hundreds of years. Why worry about it now?

If you're a Christian, then I hope you have a merry Christmas. If you're Jewish, happy Chanukah. If you're something else - and there are a great many people with very ancient traditions who are "something else" - then I hope you have a happy holiday. If you're celebrating new traditions, then my ardent desire is that they work for you, that they bring you together with Kith and Kin, and that all things work out well. And if you're a nonbeliever, as I am, then I hope you have a good time regardless, as I plan to do.

For the love of all things holy, these times are meant to unite us. Using them to sow division, or demonize the folks who do things different from you, is a particularly vicious sort of sacrilege**. So whoever you are, whatever you believe, I hope the coming year is better than the past one, and I hope you can celebrate without the need to make others feel less.

* Or title, really.

** This line originally said "as close to purely evil as you can get", but upon re-reading I decided that that was seriously overstating the case.

Not the Christianity I Knew, Part IV

Okay, so... I've talked a little about the enormous varieties of disbelief and deconversion, and where I fit into all that; I've said that my own exit from Christianity was a relatively gentle departure. I've talked a little about the fact that people tend to judge things based on their own experiences, and I've talked a lot about my experiences in and around the Episcopalian Church. In particular, I've talked about how strange and limiting Biblical Literalism seems to me, and how I was taught that the Bible, while still the word of God, should be considered in light of tradition, reason, and experience. Now, let's see if I can tie all that together.

There are people who object to this sort of moderate, balanced approach to Christianity. They say that if the Bible really is the Word of God, then it must mean everything it says, exactly the way it says it. Otherwise, you end up picking and choosing the things you like, the parts of the message you agree with - "cafeteria Christianity". If you're going to do that, why bother using the Bible in the first place?

Interestingly enough, I've heard this from both fundamentalist / evangelical Christians... and from outspoken atheists. And in both cases, I think it says more about the speaker than it does about either the Bible or Christianity. I suppose that's just another way of saying "I'm normal, it's the rest of the world that's odd" - but I stand by it nonetheless.

First of all, there's an element of all-or-nothing thinking, there. Considering what the Bible has to say in terms of reason, tradition, and experience could become a matter of just choosing the parts you like... but it certainly doesn't have to. There's some middle ground there which frequently gets overlooked, either accidentally or deliberately.

Secondly, I'd argue that everybody interprets the Bible in light of reason, tradition, and experience - it's just that some denominations don't like to admit it. ("Oh, we're not really part of a denomination. We just read the Bible." I was sitting in on a youth group meeting in one of those churches, and the youth leader started talking about prophecy, the Rapture, and future history. What did he pull out to support the lesson? It wasn't a direct reading of the Bible. It was one of those bizarrely convoluted Scofield reference charts.)

Thirdly, the Bible itself supports a more moderate approach. Consider Matthew 22: 37-40: "On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets." Which two commands? Love God, and love your neighbor as yourself. If some specific law seems to violate either of both of these commandments, then you're either reading it wrong, or applying it incorrectly... and, to crib from Fred Clark again, you're probably trying to turn the Bible into a rulebook.

So, obviously, I think it's a mistake for believers to dismiss the more moderate and/or liberal sorts of Christianity as insufficiently Christian, insufficiently devout, or insufficiently correct. And, insofar as the reasoning is the same, I think it's a mistake for nonbelievers, too.

But for nonbelievers, I think it's doubly problematic. Not only is the logic suspect, but the practical considerations... Well, look at it this way:

I don't think we're ever going to get rid of religion, at least not in the broad sense of the word. One or more specific religions might fall into decline and eventual extinction; or, more likely, society-at-large might rein in their less acceptable behaviors. (Consider the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, and their early embrace - pardon the term - of polygamy.) But religion in some form - some belief in the Unseen Forces That Govern Our Lives - seems to be a universal in human societies. Anywhere you find people, you find religion. Maybe the race will outgrow that, but frankly I doubt it.

And, to be honest, I'm not at all sure that the end of religion is a desirable goal. I'd like to see an end to the more pointless forms of tribalism; I'd love to see the more authoritarian personalities robbed of the ability to claim divine sanction. But religion overall? I'm not sure about that at all. How much would that change people? Or, to ask that question another way, how much would people have to change to be rid of religion? What underlying qualities would we have to lose, or transform, or re-channel? Would people without religion even be recognizable as people? I don't know, and I suspect the question is even more complicated than I'm suggesting here.

So, basically, I don't think we're ever going to get rid of religion. Even if I'm wrong, and religion really is a source of great evil, I think we're stuck with it. So, that being the case... Well, there are plenty of atheists who would like to promote less religion; there are even some who hope someday to see no religion. I'd like to see better religion: religions with more tolerance, religions which respect the conscience of the individual believer, religions which accept - even revel in! - the contributions of science to human knowledge.

For that reason, I think that atheists (and other nonbelievers) do themselves a disservice when (and if) we insist that if someone is going to self-identify as a Christian, they have to take the entire Bible at face value; or they have to accept everything that (some value of) Christianity has historically taught; or even that they must know everything there is to know about scripture (or near enough) in light of their particular denomination.

In a lot of ways, lukewarm Christianity - comfortable, familiar, not-too-well-examined Christianity, Cafeteria Christianity - is a good thing. It leaves room for advances in science. It leaves room for evolving (hopefully improving) morality. It doesn't insist that it has - and more to the point, that it understands - the whole of the Truth. It doesn't threaten anyone who disagrees with an eternity of fiery punishment. And to insist otherwise, to insist that this sort of approach isn't legitimate... I think that plays directly into the hands of those who would conscript the religious impulse for their own benefit.

That may not be Christianity as you know it. But it is Christianity as I knew it.

Not the Christianity I Knew, Part III

Stephen Hawking, in a recent interview, had this to say about science and religion: "There is a fundamental difference between religion, which is based on authority, [and] science, which is based on observation and reason. Science will win because it works." (h/t to Bruce)

While there is some truth to this, at least in the context that Hawking was probably thinking about it, in a larger context I disagree. Partly that's because when I hear “religion” I think of some of the strange little hunting rituals of the Mbuti pygmies; or the idiosyncratic, individual interpretations of Wicca; as well as the strongly hierarchical religions such as Christianity. So it depends a lot on how you’re defining “religion”.

But, basically, I think it’s possible for religion and science to be complementary, rather than contradictory, views of the world. In this case, science tells us how and why things work, and religion tells us (or, and this is important, lets us tell others) what’s important to us as people. That requires a fairly radical reinvisioning of what religion is and what it does; it also requires a firmer understanding than most people have of what science is and what it does.

Except... that view of religion doesn't seem that radical to me. Episcopalians, as a rule, don't have the same issues with science that more fundamentalist denominations do. The Earth was created in seven days? Well, okay, but what exactly does "day" mean if the sun wasn't created until a couple of "days" in?

I don't remember whether I was ever explicitly told about the "four legged stool", in which scripture, tradition, reason and experience each make up one leg of the stool. It seems to be a fairly common concept among Episcopalians (though most of the references I can find involve people objecting to the metaphor). In any case, whether or not it was ever an explicit teaching, it's a good reflection of the way that I was taught to think about faith.

Fred Clark, over at Slacktivist, has done a series of posts about the dangers of mistaking the map for the terrain. He talks about the difficulties involved in trying to use the Bible as a rulebook. He also tells the touching (I'd say heartwrenching) story of a classmate of his, a Young Earth Creationist, who found himself looking at a building that had existed for two thousand years long than the Earth itself, at least as he'd been taught.

I mention this because that reflects the way I was taught about Christianity. The Bible doesn't have to be a rulebook. Even if you believe that it's the Word of God, that doesn't make it a rulebook. The former does not require the latter. It can be a history, a love poem, a story of struggle and encouragement... and it probably is all of those things. But some people will make a rulebook out of anything.

I tend to think of it as the other way around. I don't see the Bible as a message from God to humanity, but rather as a chronicle - one among many - of humanity's attempt to understand God. But then, I am not a Christian.

There's more of this to come. I warned you it would be long and meandering...

Not the Christianity I knew, Part II

Continuing to explore... I do have a point that I'm working towards, but we'll get there a bit at a time. So, again, if this seems incoherent and/or directionless, please bear with me.

On Sunday, I dropped Firstborn off at my parents' church. Now, Beautiful Wife and I have recently had our second (and probably last) child. And, as I was handing Firstborn off to my father, one of the parishioners saw me and said, "Hey, pretty soon you'll be dropping two off! Congratulations." Now, I suppose you could find something offensive in that if you dug deep enough, but as a message - "Congrats on your second child, and we're happy to have them here" - I thought it was a pretty nice thing to say. Also, notice what he didn't say (or even imply): there's no hint of a "you should stay for the service" anywhere in there.

That's the church I grew up in. (Well, it's not the only one, but it's the main one.) It's changed somewhat in the... Hell below, has it really been two decades? ...since I last attended; but the environment is very much as I remember it.

People tend to judge things based on their own experience. There's no helping it, and it isn't necessarily a bad thing - but it's something to keep in mind. A large part of the reason that I don't view religion, or even Christianity, as inherently harmful is because that's not my experience of it. The Christianity I grew up with was essentially harmless, and occasionally even did some good (by way of charitable giving, for example). At worst, you could say that it was a waste of resources that could have been better used elsewhere; but that's true of a lot of things.

It's probably worth noting that my point about people judging things based on their own experience cuts both ways. It's possible that religion really is fundamentally harmful and oppressive, and I just don't see it because I happened to grow up in a church that wasn't - a rare exception to the rule. I don't actually believe that, but maybe my bias is leading me astray.

Not the Christianity I Knew, Part I

This is going to be more of an essay than most of my posts: I'm not trying to make a particular argument, so much as exploring a particular line of thought. So if it's a meandering and/or a little incoherent, bear with me.

I've mentioned before that I hang out on a fair number of blogs belonging to unbelievers. They're not the only places where I read and respond online, but they're a significant fraction. Now, unbelievers are not exactly a monolithic group. The simplest division is between "atheist" and "agnostic", but even that isn't really clear cut. There's a lot of arguing about just how to define those terms, and how they relate to each other. In addition, a lot of people don't find either one entirely satisfactory, so there are a host of less common designations: free-thinker, rationalist, humanist, apatheist, etc. There are people who were raised without religion (not many, but some); there are people who became devoutly religious and later deconverted; there are people who were never that devout to begin with. So, yeah: a lot of variety.

There are also varying degrees of what I'm going to call antitheism - the belief that religion is harmful. Think of how much further along we'd be if religion hadn't been suppressing scientific discoveries for all those centuries. Do you know how many wars and inquisitions and genocides religion is responsible for? Or, in a milder form: good men can be good on their own, and bad men bad, but for a good man to do bad requires religion. With the population pressure and technology increasing the way they are, we just can't afford to keep accepting irrationality.

Unsurprisingly, a lot of the people who are strongly antitheist have come out the more oppressive, abusive, and authoritarian strains of religion. Here in the U.S., that's usually Fundamentalist and/or Evangelical Christianity. And, perhaps equally unsurprising, some of them fairly strongly disapprove of my own attitude toward religion, which might be described as "gentle tolerance".

But, of course, we're coming at this from very different directions. For most people, losing their faith and/or leaving their religion is a hugely traumatic experience, akin to divorce or a death in the family. (Dr. Ken Pulliam has a post on the subject here.) For me, it was a much gentler experience, more like I went to take a look outside and just never went back in. But then, I was a strange child (who knew, right?). I wasn't so much antisocial as asocial, and Church was just one of a long list of things that seemed very important to everyone else and didn't make much sense to me. I remember, in the course of looking back at my religious upbringing, being angry at times, and sad at other times; but I didn't go through the wrenching grief that so many former believers do. Christianity just wasn't that big a piece of my identity or my emotional life.

And, of course, I didn't experience the social consequences that other people do: lost friendships, exile from the community, having the people you rely on for support turn on you. When I show back up at my parents' church (which I do, because my son spends his Sundays with them), people are friendly and happy to see me. Nobody stops to ask me why I drop my son off and leave; nobody feels compelled to warn me that my immortal soul might be in danger. It's not that sort of church.

Keep that last thought in mind; I'll be coming back to it.