Multiple Religions, Part 2

I think part of the solution for me with other religions that don't match my framework is fitting them into that framework anyway. For example, the covenant between God and Noah after the flood (it's in Genesis) was that God would never flood the world again. It was a promise made to Noah and his descendants. But for the writers of the Bible, those descendants included even people who were not to later become God-worshippers.

My understanding of how we can relate to other religions also depends on the religion. Islam and Judaism, for example, are similar to Christianity: we are all trying to worship the same God. (Allah just means God in Arabic). We have varying Scriptures, but share a common ancestor, Abraham (in some cases this is taken more literally than in others.)

Buddhism, on the other hand, isn't really about worshipping God at all, and has some entirely different theories about what the world really is. I might disagree with this overall concept, but still accept that they've figured out something about how people operate in developing a long and venerable meditative tradition. Who is to say that God did not create us for silent meditation?

Still, this is a difficult line to walk. I want to maintain humility when it comes to plumbing the mysteries of the divine. But at the same time it's easy to fall into a kind of mush where any set of beliefs is as good as any other. And I don't want to merely continue looking inward to my religion as if the others don't exist. And I really do believe what I believe very strongly--I try to build my life around God, which wouldn't make any sense if I didn't believe anything particular about God. This is a very perplexing problem, and I don't feel like Christianity has good answers developed for it.

Multiple Religions: Part 1

Here is an interesting question: What to make of different religions?

A couple of years ago, at a conference I was at, the theologian in residence pointed out that there is no such thing as a "winning" religion. According to her, the point of a religion is to explain the world, not to "win."

Still, if you're christian, the tendency generally is to want to believe the right thing. Protestants especially have a focus on belief as the way to salvation. This isn't true for all religions--for some what you do is more important than what you think about what you're doing. But if you believe that what you believe is what saves you, then you want to be sure you believe the right thing.

And when everybody agrees with you, it's easier to feel like you do believe the right thing after all.

So I think that sums up some of the motivations behind the hard-core converters who think everybody except a particular slice of christians is going to hell. Right belief saves, wrong belief leads to death.

I haven't decided yet where I am on this--to me salvation is a relationship with God, and is an ongoing process, like any relationship. God is good to me now, and I trust God to be good to me after I die. But the point is, while it helps to believe certain things in order to establish this relationship, believing the right things is not what ultimately saves me; it's God who saves.

So where does that leave christians in terms of thinking about other religions, which describe the world in different ways and value different things?

New Translation

The other night, I read about half of the gospel of Matthew in a new translation of the new testament, The Message, and I was beginning to understand why the Bible is favorite reading for some folks--if you can understand them (thanks, in my case, to the translation, rather than long and careful study) the stories are really pretty good.

Anyway, reading a big chunk like that also brought out a particular conflict or tension I see in the gospel. On the one hand, Jesus talks about how easy this new life is, and on the other hand he talks about difficult it is.

Actually, though, now that I think about it, what's difficult is actually how much you have to give up for it--selling everything you own for one beautiful pearl, or selling all your land for one field with treasure in it. I guess what he's saying is: this is a good life--living in the kingdom of God--but you have to put everything into it. The putting everything into it part is what makes it so difficult, to my mind. Is it worth it?

Which brings us to another story I've been thinking about lately. Jesus says, (paraphrase here): "If someone were going to build a tower, first he would decide whether or not he had the money and materials to do it. Otherwise, he could get halfway through and run out of financing and have to just leave the empty foundation there in the ground. At that point, everybody's going to laugh at him. So make sure you tally up the cost before you jump in.

Re: Switchfoot post

The lyrics to the song mentioned below

Thanks, Heather!

Switchfoot

While I'm thinking about the regular workday (and occasionally noticing that it gets more and more like Office Space around here every day), has anybody else paid attention to the lyrics of the Switchfoot song that has been on the Top 40 radio stations lately? I keep hearing the chorus:

"We were meant to live for so much more, but we lost ourselves."

The rest of the lyrics, I admit, are a little hard to understand.

But I do think it's interesting that the song is as popular as it is. Is this a common obsession for people? Or am I one of those strange people who likes songs because of lyrics?

I wonder if this might be a big question for a lot of people, because it interests me: What is that more we're supposed to live for? But I generally feel awkward talking about these kinds of things with people I know in person, etc. So maybe there are lots of people who are interested in that something more, but don't feel comfortable talking about it. Or, like I suggested before, most people don't put that much thought into lyrics.

Or, it's a right-brained thing, and not something meant to be analyzed like it's logical.

Beauty.

Today is such a beautiful day outside. I was outside on my lunch break, looking up at the trees, and enjoying it so much that for a moment I thought: God created the whole world just for the sake of beauty--a beautiful creation full of creatures to enjoy it.

Urban/Suburban Theology
Or: Is Heaven a Planned Community?

I moved to the suburbs several months ago after 4 years of living in big cities with good subways and lots of action, movement, etc.

After visiting Boston last weekend, I've been thinking again about how different it is to live in suburbs. Transportation is so different. There are very few buses here, and no subway. If people walk, it's to exercise or walk the dog, not to get somewhere. Transportation is limited mostly to the car. Which means you're not going to run into a friend on the bus or train, and chat until your stop or theirs. Similarly with seeing people as you walk places. It's more private. There are more trees and landscaping, fewer bricks and less cement. Some days, it feels like I'm in the middle of a consumption machine, because I see the most people when I go somewhere to buy something. That's probably not entirely accurate, but I do feel that way from time to time. But everything does seem planned for stability and predictability (I also feel like I'm living in a cocoon built for raising children).

It's a different way of living. A different geography.

I've also been noticing a difference in church service content, especially when I think about the suburb churches I was raised in.

Sermons at my suburb churches tend/ed to emphasize God's love, with a certain push toward making good ethical decisions and putting up with irritating people. God is dependable and loving, and we need to behave well and show love to others.

Sermons at my city churches tend/ed to work toward intellectual honesty--facing hard questions and hard texts dead-on, and sometimes coming up with unsettling answers. God is interested in upsetting the apple cart just as often as keeping it upright.

I'm not saying that neither group ever entered into the others' territory, or that suburban churches aren't intellectually honest, or that city churches don't preach God's love. But I think the emphasis is different, and I am just fascinated by the possibility that the environment has an impact on what our image of God is: unsettling and exciting like a city; reliable and comforting like a suburb.

Work

I have been considering again lately that little cliche about how some people live to work, and some people work to live.

It is important to me that I have my own personal time, apart from work, to relax and stay healthy, spend time in prayer, time with loved ones. But I feel very counter-culture in this effort--that there's an expectation that people should be skipping lunch breaks and staying late and commuting long hours to work. And that being too busy to take vacation means that you've got the right amount of work.

I very much like the idea of a Sabbath, in the face of all this. Time that is dedicated, for God's sake and our own, to something other than work. (Or even running errands and cleaning the house.) Time spent, as some Jewish traditions suggest, in enjoying the promised joyful future ahead of time. It seems so beautiful to me, but why is it so hard to actually do?

Oh well. Back to work.

Warning: Getting Political Here

I know some of my readers don't love Bill Clinton, but I feel like this sermon just gets right to why I believe that Democratic values are Christian values.

Clinton's Sermon to Riverside Church in New York