Defining Ourselves and Our Past

Today, my church started a new series called "defined." Naturally, the goal of the series is to discuss what defines us as Christians. I am intrigued to see where this sermon series will end up. It is my hope that we will eventually discuss the doctrinal issues that define us as Christians. Nevertheless, today the topic of discussion dealt with how, or if, our past defines us. More specifically, it discussed the role of guilt that follows any type of error or shortcoming. Guilt can be suffocating and crippling, locking us in a cycle devoid of hope. On the other hand, God can use guilt to motivate one to repentance and in time salvation. All of this is true.

As I sat there listening, I could not help but ponder the relationship between our guilt, our past, and what defines us. Does salvation from guilt translate to severing our present and future from our past? Are we, or should we, be "defined by our past?"

Ultimately, I came to the conclusion that we are, on one level, "defined by our past." I don't think our salvation from guilt and sin should be totally severed from our present and future. Our overcoming of guilt, our dealing with our past sins and shortcomings should not equal the rejection of our past. I believe that even a redeemed past "defines us." If our past is a part of "our story," and if "our story" largely defines us, then our past--no matter how egregious and scary is was--defines us, at least partially. Is this not the rationale behind giving a testimony?

The beauty of redemption is that it ensures that our past defines us in a controlled, qualified manner. On this side of redemption, our past never cripples us, and it certainly does not have the last word. However, if we are honest with ourselves, there is an irony in all of this. Every time we tell "our story," give our testimony, we relive the guilt and shortcomings of our past, and there is always the chance that it will cause more pain.

Now this is one of the reasons why I am a proponent of Wesleyan theology, with its emphasis upon the victory over sin and the effects of sin. You see, the redemptive and nourishing power of the Holy Spirit is so great, so powerful, that we do not have to live in fear that the guilt and errors of our past will once again consume us. Daily we allow the grace and power of the Holy Spirit to drive us onward, allowing our past to be a powerful testimony for the victorious power of the Spirit.

Noah, Context, and Why Evangelicals Should Not Get Upset

I will say up front that I have not seen the recent film adaptation of Noah by Darren Aronofsky, but I plan to...at some point. I will wait for it to come out on the Redbox probably. I mean, who can beat a 1 dollar movie rental? That has to be one of the greatest inventions of modern America.

I will also say up front I realize that there is a cacophony of voices weighing in on this topic. Therefore, my voice will probably be lost in the mix. Nevertheless, when my colleague John Barnts registered some thoughts on the subject of "context" for evaluating this film I decided to register my own opinion, knowing full well that it will be lost. In the spirit of John's words of advice (...and yes he is very perceptive when it comes to analyzing and evaluating films), I want to come at this from the context of hearing the director's own statements, for such a posture is critical when evaluating anyone's work.

The Washington Post put out an interview with Aronofsky, and you can read it here. In that interview I found a few things that were interesting.

•  Aronofsky believes that the Noah narrative revolves largely around the tension between wickedness and forgiveness. So much so, Aronofsky wanted to "dramatize the decision God must have made when he decided to destroy all of humanity." An interesting component of this dramatization was a decision to embody this decision in the character of Noah. "We wanted to get that grief, that struggle, and stick it into Noah, so we can understand as people what it must have felt like." Honestly, I have no problems with this decision. The reality is that the Noah narrative gains its impact and appeal in the silence of Noah (count how many times Noah actually talks during the flood event...). Much like Genesis 22, the text wants us to ponder the dynamics of this event.
• Aronofsky admits that the Ham/Noah relationship was a driving factor in the development of his screenplay. Speaking to the Ham/Noah/drunkenness episode that takes place after the flood, "To us that was a huge clue to their relationship. So we started to build a whole story out of that relationship between Noah and Ham and how they got there." I find this decision and method very interesting...and I am not sure what to make of it right now. One of my professors said that he thought Ham was "creepy" (or something like that). Regardless, the events at the conclusion of Gen 9 are....interesting. I think that Aronofsky has a legitimate leg to stand on here.
• First and foremost Aronofsky sees himself as an entertainer, who seeks to entertain through exciting and emotional movies. 

In my mind, these points (as well as others, such Aronofsky's tendency to make dark and deeply symbolic movies) give one important insights into Aronofsky's intentions associated with making this movie. However, there is another variable that bears upon any Evangelical's evaluation of this movie--the text of the Bible. I have already mentioned the "silence of Noah" throughout the flood episode, a silence that breeds questions. In addition, there is a peculiar bracket that appears around the flood narrative. In Gen 6:5, the text says that God realized that "every inclination of the thoughts of their hearts was only evil continually" (NRSV). In Gen 8:21, the Lord proclaims that he will never curse the ground again, "for the inclination of the human heart is evil from youth" (NRSV). So, we have this recurrence that brackets the flood event under the realization that the inclination of the human heart is evil.

But wait...what?! There is a recognition that humanity is depraved, then the flood (which is supposed to somehow rectify the situation), and then a re-acknowledgement of the same reality of human depravity...what does this mean? It means that the biblical text is recognizing that humanity's depravity continues, and it continues to exist alongside a gracious God. Perhaps these are the things that Aronofsky noticed when he grew up with the Noah story (...he grew up in a Jewish home...), the things that drove him to emphasize the themes of justice vs. mercy, good vs. evil, and what it means to be human.

I realize that as an Evangelical there is a innate reaction to put up a fight against anyone who appears to be challenging the biblical text. I get it. However, in this instance, this is a man who has used the contours of the text for his purposes, and those purposes are creative and for entertainment. In other words, based on what I have heard him say and my understanding of the demands of the text, I do not think that he is "challenging  or rewriting the Bible." [...and yes, perhaps my opinion will change when I watch the movie. However, I doubt it based upon some reviews by people that are more intelligent, perceptive, and theologically aware than me.]. So, lets not get too upset...

The Generational Issue

About two weeks ago, I attended the annual SECSOR (Southeastern Conference for the Study of Religion) conference in Atlanta, GA. As I waited to present my paper, I listened to an individual present on the difficulties for LGBT (Lesbian, Gay, Bi-sexual, and Transgender) advocates in reading Lev. 18:22 and 20:13. To sum up the argument presented, these passages are descriptive of a specific action and prohibition, and because these passages are restricted by their socio-historical context and fail to resonate with a contemporary understanding of homosexuality, these prohibitions are not immediately applicable to contemporary culture. Subsequent to this paper, I overheard a group of young aspiring scholars discussing the ascending prominence of LGBT churches. Their positions were clear. They understood this ascendance to be a good thing and they were excited about the developments of the future.

It has been said before, but it is worth repeating—the issue of LGBT inclusion (whatever this means…consequently it is a discussion for another place and another time) is the theological issue for my generation (at least as things currently stand). Indeed, it has already influenced mainline denominations, and so what I say here is nothing new or groundbreaking. [For example, see my colleague MattO’Reilly’s conversations with the United Methodist Church. The reality is that there are many people who are more intelligent and more theologically astute than me that have already weighed in on this topic.] However, stemming from that weekend I am more convinced than ever that this issue will transcend mainline denominations. The issue is at the forefront of the media, and it will only gain further ground as the topic fits within the framework of the cultural movements of political correctness and anti-discrimination. For any denomination not to address it will essentially indict it of theological "duck and cover."

Fundamental to this discussion is a determination of Scriptural dynamics. In the case of the paper that I heard, the prohibitions of Leviticus are 1) restricted and 2) fail to consider a contemporary understanding of homosexuality. Thus, while not explicitly stated by the presenter, Scripture’s relevance on this topic ostensibly can only be discerned after a historical meaning is run through the ringer of a host of considerations. More importantly, in cases where a historical meaning confronts modern sensibilities, the paper suggested that its statements may be pacified or jettisoned all together. I have serious problems with this line of thinking, particularly the notion that a historical meaning may be disregarded in places where it directly confronts modern sensibilities.

As I see it, the crux of this entire debate is a hermeneutical one, specifically the role of a text’s historical meaning. The Bible is clear that homosexual behavior is an abomination and the lifestyle violates the divinely ordained expectations of marriage. However, is this perception merely a product of an ancient worldview, which incidentally was largely “anti-Canaanite” in posture, and thus incapable of properly speaking to the nuances of a contemporary issue? Indeed, I recognize that the dynamics of a contemporary context present obstacles for theological discourse and the application of Scriptural principles. Application is rarely “nice and neat.” Furthermore, I also recognize that good theological discourse and application must move beyond a historical meaning. However, it is my conviction that a historical meaning cannot be jettisoned…it must play a role in the formation of our theological paradigms and discourse.

For arguments regarding LGBT  inclusion to even register with a large portion of Evangelicals, advocates must wrestle with the texts of Scripture that clearly speak against its lifestyle and do so in a way that does not merely explain such passages away as socio-historically restricted and unenlightened to contemporary issues. Indeed, this is not to say that all Evangelicals will agree with every aspect of their interpretations.What it will ensure, however, is that a beneficial debate will ensue within the Evangelical community, which in turn will put Evangelical denominations on the path of trying to understand the specific dynamics of LGBT inclusion moving forward. 

Archaeology and the Bible

Recently, I was asked to contribute a post on the relationship of archaeology and the Bible as a guest blogger for my alma mater's Seedbed site. You can read it here.

Seedbed is a unique online ministry of Asbury Theological Seminary that brings together topics of conversation for theological discourse. 

Camels and Inerrancy

Recently two professors from Tel-Aviv University issued a press release in response to their Carbon-14 analysis of some old camel bones. In that release, Erez Ben-Yosef and Lidar Sapir-Hen declare a couple things. First, the domestication of the camel in ancient Israel did not happen until the first millennium BCE. Therefore, the details of Genesis 24 (and a few other passages), which describe domesticated camels, miss the mark. Second, this anachronism is proof that the text (presumably of Genesis) was compiled late and its historicity questionable. To make things more interesting are the headlines referencing Ben-Yosef’s and Sapir-Hen’s release. For example, “Camel bones suggest error in Bible, archaeologists say.” Such headlines set the table for some passionate responses.

First, the issue of camels in Genesis is nothing new. The apparent domestication of camels in Gen 24 is a detail that has solicited commentary for generations. However, for the purposes of this post, I want to move beyond “camels in Genesis” in order to discuss something more fundamental. And no...I do not want to come at this from the evangelical stance of "the absence of evidence is not evidence of absence." Such stance is common amongst evangelicals, and it has already been taken by Darrell Bock. Read it here. 

As I just stated, the researchers are flaunting their data as proof that 1) the text’s historicity is flawed and 2) the text is late. Are these claims warranted? Is this an isolated instance, or grounds for a sweeping generalization against the credibility of the Bible (which appears to be an unstated implication)?

Let us first tackle the idea of the text’s “late composition.” What one must first understand is that literacy and literary composition assumed a different set of rules in antiquity. So much so, that if you or I were transported to that context, we would be perplexed. Furthermore, a “textual revolution” did not occur in ancient Israel until Iron Age II (~ the end of the eleventh century or early tenth century). This means that the earliest traditions of the Old Testament, and the Patriarchal narratives are one of them, were likely not written (at least with any fervency) until Iron Age II. So, the researchers claim that the texts were written late does not bother me. In fact, they are probably correct. The Patriarchal narratives were probably not textually preserved until a few hundred years after the fact.

Granted this position, other questions naturally follow. If a tradition was not immediately preserved textually, does it undermine the credibility of its testimony? Is its historicity brought into question, and does an apparent anachronism constitute an “error” that compromises the Bible’s credibility? These are loaded questions. To answer them one must begin by remembering the human dimension of Scripture. Indeed, I believe that Scripture is God’s revelation to humanity, but it is God’s revelation to humanity through humanity. God chose to divulge his revelation through conscious, ancient writers. Consequently, these people not only utilized the literary conventions of their day, but they also may have succumbed in places to the finitude of humanity. The occasional anachronism is one such example. Yet more to the point, an anachronism referring to a secondary detail of the narrative, which is what this camel thing is, does not warrant the posture that Genesis’ credibility has been compromised.

Kenton Spark a few years ago published God’s Words in Human Words. In my opinion, this is a must-read for all evangelical graduate students, or anyone else who wants mental exercise. While I do not espouse everything that Sparks says, I fully appreciate his emphasis that because God’s revelation came through humanity there are a set of dynamics that have to be weighed when evaluating the witness of Scripture, which include ancient contexts, ancient literary conventions, and the principle of accommodation. Moreover, it is my conviction that an assessment of Scripture’s credibility, historical veracity, or anything similar cannot come from the assessment of secondary details in isolated episodes. It must arise from something more nuanced, which includes the intention of the text/author in accord with ancient literary canons.

I do not believe that the Bible errs. It communicates what it intends, and it makes no mistake. This is why I freely use the term inerrant when describing Scripture. However, the trick is figuring out what is the intention of communication. Indeed, at times this is hard, for it requires navigating the literary-historical chasm that separates the modern reader from the ancient writer.