Sunday, May 27, 2012
Sunday Reflection: A Question About Paul
[Click on the photo to enlarge it-- I took this picture this morning at 7 on the little bridge over Minnehaha Creek by my house]
In response to my article on gay marriage (and congratulations, Randy Roberts Potts, on your wedding yesterday!), I received this very sensible inquiry:
Hi there.
I was intrigued by your article and in fact read it several times. While I was raised extremely conservatively I have always been struck by the hypocrisy of the church when interacting with homosexuality. If a person believes homosexuality is sin, its seems s/he would be equally disturbed by all others violating biblical sexual ethics, which I rarely find to be the case. Many church pews are occupied by adulterers, pornographers, divorcees, and fornicators while the judgment seems aimed at the gay/lesbian lifestyle.
I thought many points in your article were worth consideration, and do believe Peter would have advocated that God loves the homosexual the same as any other. I have never thought of Peter as the rock the church was built on, but rather his confession that Jesus was the Christ, but that is tangential. My question to you is not regarding the Old Testament, as there are so many laws and precepts we disregard. What do you think about the passage in the end of Romans 1? I mean you no disrespect and do not seek to argue, and sincerely hope you will answer, as I would like the opportunity to have your thoughts.
Regards,
Cheryl.
Here was my response:
I think the Bible makes clear what the difference is, in terms of context, between the message of Jesus and the message of Paul. What Jesus teaches is of his Father—it is God’s word to us about what is important. Jesus keeps it simple and general; for example, when asked which of the 600+ commandments of the Torah is most important, he gives the Two Great Commandments. That is the guide for my life, though I am often failing.
Paul is a historical figure who is important but is neither divine nor a prophet (and claims neither status). He is important in building the early church, and had to do so in the context of what existed at that time. His statements on women in the church, for example, don’t make sense anymore in our society, but they did in the context where he was trying to build a church, perhaps.
I try to defer to every teaching of Christ, even the ones that don’t make sense to me or are hard to follow (ie, obeying the Sabbath is very difficult). Paul does not have the same authority. If everyone who writes in the Bible had the same authority, what does that make Jesus? One among many and something less than the son of God, and that isn't right.
In other words, once we start making every bit of the Bible equally normative-- when a story in Genesis or a line in Ephesians becomes as important as Christ's Two Great Commandments-- it stops being Christian. This view of the Bible may allow us to argue for nearly anything with Biblical support, but it denies the specialness of Christ, and that is what is at the heart of my faith, and that is why I choose love over judgment.
Comments:
<< Home
The best answer to the question posed that I have ever read or heard:
Where the Bible Leads Me
By Barbara Brown Taylor
When I am presented with the issue of homosexuality, I experience temporary blindness. Something like scales fall over my eyes, because I cannot visualize an issue. Instead, I visualize the homeroom teacher who seemed actually to care whether I showed up at school or not. I see the priest who taught me everything I know about priesthood, and the professor who roasted whole chickens for me when my food money ran out before the end of the month. I see the faces of dozens of young men who died of AIDS, but not before they had shown me how brightly they could burn with nothing left but the love of God to live on. I see the face of my 16-year-old friend, still waiting for his first true love, who says that if he found out he was gay, he would kill himself. Other people have other stories, I know, but these are the stories that have given me my sight. To reduce them to a position seems irreverent somehow, like operating on someone’s body without looking him in the face.
I used to believe that swapping stories was one way to get closer to people who see things differently than I do, so that both of our truths get stretched, but I have almost given up on that. Where I live, at least, there is little sense that life stories can be “true.” Only scripture is true, so that the debate about the place of homosexual Christians in the church today hangs on what various biblical writers did or did not mean by one of five passages that were written at least 1,950 years ago.
I love the Bible. I have spent more than half of my life reading it, studying it, teaching and preaching it. While I do not find every word of it as inspiring (or inspired) as some of my fellow Christians do, I encounter God in it reliably enough to commit myself on a daily basis to practicing the core teachings of both testaments. When I do this, however, a peculiar thing happens. As I practice what I learn in the Bible, the Bible turns its back on me. Like some parent intent on my getting my own place, the Bible won’t let me set up house in its pages. It gives me a kiss and boots me into the world, promising me that I have everything I need to find God not only on the page but also in the flesh. Whether I am reading Torah or the Gospels, the written word keeps evicting me, to go embody the word by living in peace and justice with my neighbors on this earth, whatever amount of confrontation, struggle, recognition and surrender that may involve.
In this way, I have arrived at a different understanding of what it means to follow the Word of God. The phrase has become a double entendre for me, meaning not only the Word on the page but also (and more crucially) the Word made flesh. If Jesus’ own example is to be trusted, then following the Word of God may not always mean doing what is in the book. Instead, it may mean deviating from what is in the book in order to risk bringing the Word to life, and then facing the dreadful consequences of loving the wrong people even after you have been warned time and again to stop.
These days I guess everything sounds like a position, even a confession like this one. I do not know what is right. All I know is whom I love, and how far I have to go before there is no one left whom I do not love. If I am wrong, then I figure that the Word of God will know what to do with me. I am betting my life on that.
Where the Bible Leads Me
By Barbara Brown Taylor
When I am presented with the issue of homosexuality, I experience temporary blindness. Something like scales fall over my eyes, because I cannot visualize an issue. Instead, I visualize the homeroom teacher who seemed actually to care whether I showed up at school or not. I see the priest who taught me everything I know about priesthood, and the professor who roasted whole chickens for me when my food money ran out before the end of the month. I see the faces of dozens of young men who died of AIDS, but not before they had shown me how brightly they could burn with nothing left but the love of God to live on. I see the face of my 16-year-old friend, still waiting for his first true love, who says that if he found out he was gay, he would kill himself. Other people have other stories, I know, but these are the stories that have given me my sight. To reduce them to a position seems irreverent somehow, like operating on someone’s body without looking him in the face.
I used to believe that swapping stories was one way to get closer to people who see things differently than I do, so that both of our truths get stretched, but I have almost given up on that. Where I live, at least, there is little sense that life stories can be “true.” Only scripture is true, so that the debate about the place of homosexual Christians in the church today hangs on what various biblical writers did or did not mean by one of five passages that were written at least 1,950 years ago.
I love the Bible. I have spent more than half of my life reading it, studying it, teaching and preaching it. While I do not find every word of it as inspiring (or inspired) as some of my fellow Christians do, I encounter God in it reliably enough to commit myself on a daily basis to practicing the core teachings of both testaments. When I do this, however, a peculiar thing happens. As I practice what I learn in the Bible, the Bible turns its back on me. Like some parent intent on my getting my own place, the Bible won’t let me set up house in its pages. It gives me a kiss and boots me into the world, promising me that I have everything I need to find God not only on the page but also in the flesh. Whether I am reading Torah or the Gospels, the written word keeps evicting me, to go embody the word by living in peace and justice with my neighbors on this earth, whatever amount of confrontation, struggle, recognition and surrender that may involve.
In this way, I have arrived at a different understanding of what it means to follow the Word of God. The phrase has become a double entendre for me, meaning not only the Word on the page but also (and more crucially) the Word made flesh. If Jesus’ own example is to be trusted, then following the Word of God may not always mean doing what is in the book. Instead, it may mean deviating from what is in the book in order to risk bringing the Word to life, and then facing the dreadful consequences of loving the wrong people even after you have been warned time and again to stop.
These days I guess everything sounds like a position, even a confession like this one. I do not know what is right. All I know is whom I love, and how far I have to go before there is no one left whom I do not love. If I am wrong, then I figure that the Word of God will know what to do with me. I am betting my life on that.
I think it’s interesting to note, as Archbishop Williams has, that at the close of his diatribe against the unrighteous and ungodly, Paul, who did not assign chapters and verses to his letters, takes a rhetorical turn in Romans 2:1 and echoes Matthew 7: “Therefore thou art inexcusable, O man, whosoever thou art that judgest: for wherein thou judgest another, thou condemnest thyself; for thou that judgest doest the same things.” (KJV)
Professor,
It seems to me that a simple and relatable theme emerging from the discussions you are leading on this topic is that perhaps the inquiry Christians should pose to themselves when looking for answers to such difficult questions is not, "What Would Jesus Do?", but rather, "What Would Jesus Teach Us To Do?" Meaning, whereas Jesus may have the right or choose to condemn our homosexual neighbors who intend to marry, our directive -- as their neighbors -- is not to condemn them but to love them. Clearly, this theme is ripe for get-rich-quick monetization in the form of colorful "WWJTUTD?" bracelets!!!
Mike L.
It seems to me that a simple and relatable theme emerging from the discussions you are leading on this topic is that perhaps the inquiry Christians should pose to themselves when looking for answers to such difficult questions is not, "What Would Jesus Do?", but rather, "What Would Jesus Teach Us To Do?" Meaning, whereas Jesus may have the right or choose to condemn our homosexual neighbors who intend to marry, our directive -- as their neighbors -- is not to condemn them but to love them. Clearly, this theme is ripe for get-rich-quick monetization in the form of colorful "WWJTUTD?" bracelets!!!
Mike L.
# posted by 
: 12:45 PM
: 12:45 PM
Prof. Osler,
I'm afraid I don't really understand your Jesus v. Paul position. You write as if the gospels are Jesus's autobiography.
I guess I just don't understand how giving Paul the same authority as what Luke recorded Jesus as saying makes Jesus something less than the Son of God. That same reasoning would make John's gospel more authoritative than John's other letters merely because they contain specific Jesus quotes. Why should I even believe they quoted him properly?
I also don't understand how giving equal importance to Genesis, Ephesians, etc. and the Two Great Commandments is something less than Christian. For example, I would argue that 1 Corinthians 15 is at least equally as important as the Two Great Commandments. If I can't rely on those words, why should I care about the Two Great Commandments. Without the truth of 1 Corinthians 15, the Two Great Commandments are reduced to moralism. There's more to the Two Great Commandments than the fact that Jesus gave them to us.
I guess that's closer to the root of my problem with your position. I have to accept Paul as authoritative, whether I like it or not. Peter did, so why shouldn't I? You see, when I think Paul, I don't think "old guy who didn't like women, etc." Instead, I think about myself: the chief of sinners who was and is utterly undeserving of God's love and Christ's sacrifice. How does that minimize the specialness of Christ? If anything, it compels me to want to follow the Two Great Commandments.
Post a Comment
I'm afraid I don't really understand your Jesus v. Paul position. You write as if the gospels are Jesus's autobiography.
I guess I just don't understand how giving Paul the same authority as what Luke recorded Jesus as saying makes Jesus something less than the Son of God. That same reasoning would make John's gospel more authoritative than John's other letters merely because they contain specific Jesus quotes. Why should I even believe they quoted him properly?
I also don't understand how giving equal importance to Genesis, Ephesians, etc. and the Two Great Commandments is something less than Christian. For example, I would argue that 1 Corinthians 15 is at least equally as important as the Two Great Commandments. If I can't rely on those words, why should I care about the Two Great Commandments. Without the truth of 1 Corinthians 15, the Two Great Commandments are reduced to moralism. There's more to the Two Great Commandments than the fact that Jesus gave them to us.
I guess that's closer to the root of my problem with your position. I have to accept Paul as authoritative, whether I like it or not. Peter did, so why shouldn't I? You see, when I think Paul, I don't think "old guy who didn't like women, etc." Instead, I think about myself: the chief of sinners who was and is utterly undeserving of God's love and Christ's sacrifice. How does that minimize the specialness of Christ? If anything, it compels me to want to follow the Two Great Commandments.
<< Home
