Conventional Christianity -- Sort of

This entry was initially inspired by the discussions over at Point & Counterpoint, where Jodi  hosts an opportunity for folks of opposing viewpoints (sometimes, anyway) to express themselves.  Her religion/spirituality topic generated some heat and, combined with comments others have left me about my obvious interest in religion, got me thinking about trying to articulate my own beliefs.  So, a first try at decipering who I am:

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            A wholly conventional Christian. 

            A flexible and progressive Christian.

            A Christian who is not capable of believing that there is only one way.

 

            Conventional?  Oh, yeah.  I believe that we are called by God to a way of life faithful to God’s ways, but we are called to be who we are where we are.  I have spent my life in the midst of mainline American Protestantism, with a spicy sprinkling of Catholicism and thunderous 19th century evangelicalism, and I make no apologies for being who I am.  My Puritan forebears planted their feet on the rocky shores of New England and left behind traces of DNA  which have emerged in my soul as a willingness to align myself with the combined forces of convention and rebellion that have formed the Christian church for 2,000 years.  I follow the church year; I know that right now we are in “Ordinary Time.”  I like a service that moves along “decently and in order,” which makes me a Presbyterian.  I like a literate and challenging sermon, and I’m not much moved by liturgical ceremony, which makes me a Protestant.   I’m happy in huge cathedrals with elaborate sculpture and stained-glass windows, and I’m happy in small white clapboard churches with simple altars and clear glass windows and  I’m quite certain that God moves in and out of both places.  I like to sing (off-key) traditional hymns accompanied by a fine organ, because I am a little bit acquainted with the Bible and a little bit with music and the two have been combined by composers whose skills reach far beyond what is called “Contemporary Praise Music” (which itself is fine, on occasion ~ rare occasion). And I have no illusions that any of the above is necessary to worship or hear God ~ but because of who I am, they all collude to make God’s presence accessible to me.

 

            Flexible and progressive?  I would like to think so, anyway.  The spiritual path along which I trek is often lit by the giants of the Catholic church:  Julian of Norwich, Ignatius, Francis, Benedict.  And even more so by the great scholars of the Bible.  I tend to come to faith through the mind  ~  others come by the heart, or by service, or by contemplation, or by proclamation of the kingdom ~ but again, we are who we are, and we tend to find God as we are.  I’m a Bible nerd ~ fascinated by its complexities; drawn to its history, literature, and ambiguity; always seeing it as enhanced and enlarged by a critical textual approach and always dismayed by attempts to shrink it with claims of inerrancy.  Its message is a simple one, but not an easy or comforting one:  Love God, and love everyone else.  There’s nothing sentimental or simple about following a life path faithful to the Christian message.  But as I give it time to settle in my guts, I see it with increasing clarity.  The call is to approach everything ~ everything ~ in a manner exactly opposite to that which seems intuitive to us.  War is out; provision is in.  To expand: we make war on everyone and everything:  our siblings, our spouses, our friends and colleagues, our environment, our neighbors ~ at home and abroad.  We’re supposed to be providing for them instead.  It’s that simple ~ and that complicated. 

 

            “I am the way, and the truth, and the light.”  From the Gospel of John.  Always a challenging bit for those of us constitutionally incapable of  believing that there is only one way to God.  It doesn’t help to know that Jesus probably didn’t actually say that ~ that those are words attributed to him by a community writing decades after his death, a community increasingly isolated from its Jewish roots and therefore increasingly in need of  making a radical statement of its certitude and righteousness.  The fact remains that those words ARE attributed to him in a canon that we accept as ours, so they mean something significant.  I’ve come to believe that the word “Love” can be substituted for the word “I.”  “Love is the way, the truth and the light.”  For those of us who find great meaning in God’s incarnation as one of us, who are moved and deeply affected by what we perceive as the knowledge that God came here to spend time and space and energy as we do, to perceive dimension as we do, the words are fine as they are reported.  For those who are skeptical or simply incredulous with respect to the whole Christian enterprise, the  words can be read differently without diluting their import.  Again, I believe that we are called to be who we are called to be. 

 

            “I believe in the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.” So begins the Apostles’ Creed, repeated every week by Christians in the western world.  It was a stroke of early church genius to clarify God in three persons ~ a God who can speak to each of us, regardless of our idiosyncratic approaches to life.  I tend to say “I believe in God the Father and Mother,” or “I believe in God the Creator” ~ which is what I think the early church fathers meant, despite their inability to think outside the limits of a patriarchal imperial world.  I believe in God as a Creator who liked to play ~ can you imagine what a time God must have had inventing sunsets, and grasshoppers, and eagles, and tulips, and the Grand Tetons, and bananas?  Not to mention people of different  colors and sizes whose experiences of their world and, therefore, of God, would differ?  I believe in  God as a Christ who came here, seeking to build friendships and alleviate suffering. And I believe in God as a Spirit who infuses everything  with the potential that we might provide for each other.

           

            And WHY do I believe all that?  I have no idea.  It’s a gift.