Essentially, Borg urges us to “demote sin”. This is not to suggest that we minimize it. Rather, Borg is telling us to employ other, additional biblical images for the human condition we often reference as fallen. Borg offers a few options in an attempt to solidify his argument. One is the story of Israel’s bondage in Egypt. In this integral OT story, Israel does not need forgiveness. In fact, it is hard to decipher exactly what it is that they have done wrong. Rather, what this nation needs is liberation. Later, when Israel is in Babylon and exiled from their homes, what they need is not just forgiveness (that is certainly an element in the story) but also restoration, a path or a way back home (this is revisted by Jesus in the story of the Prodigal Son). In the NT we discover that Jesus’ interactions with physically broken people are often analagous for sin. While the assumption of the ancient world might have been that these people were lepers and paraplegics because of sin, the reality is these people might have done nothing to bring about these physical issues. Still, what these people need (and by illustration what is often required where sin occurs) is healing and wholeness, not just forgiveness.

Borg goes on to cover other aspects of sin. For instance, the sin of pride, which is perhaps the most common sin we commit, requires an influx of humility and a greater awareness of one’s place–a re-centering in God, if you will. Borg actually suggests that as macro-metaphors go this is the most accurate one. If we are to believe the somewhat limited and mysterious story of Satan that appears in scripture, than we come to the conclusion that pride was Satan’s sin and thus pride entered the picture before there ever was a “devil”. Yeah…I know…trying to wrap one’s brain around that concept is not easy. One could even posit that Adam and Eve’s sin is tied directly to the desire to be God-like, a form of pride and an error that requires a “re-centering” or a “re-ordering” of the universe. This re-centering is best captured by Jesus when he combines 600+ laws into one: Love God with all of your being. By rolling all of the commandments into this one, it is possible that the best remedy for sin is complete devotion to God. This is an act we do, not one God does for us. Hmm, almost sounds Catholic rather than Protestant, doesn’t it?

Some might think Borg is slicing things a bit too fine with this term and his treatment of it. What do you think?

Believe: Today the word “believe” is usually tied to our acceptance of something as being true or real. Often, we use the word in a discussion about something we cannot validate with absolute certainty, so we say: “I believe that it is going to be cold this weekend” or “I believe that you are telling me the truth about your computer crashing and your homework being lost.” In these moments we are claiming that we trust that a statement is true, hence the use of this word in the church’s creeds. However, this is not exactly how the word was originally used. Borg shows how the Old English word for “believe” is be loef, which means “to hold dear”. Ostensibly, the intended modern expression, then, would sound like “belove”. Borg’s point of emphasis is stated this way: believing THAT something is true is different from believing IN someone. To believe can mean a number of things, but to ignore that one of its essential connotations is to “hold dear to one’s heart” is to miss the strength of the word in the Christian context. For instance, which is more likely to transform a person: believing that a set of statements about God are true, or beloving God with all of one’s heart? This idea meshes nicely with the word “faith”, a first cousin of the word “believe” if ever there was one. In the Greek, to have faith in someone is to swear allegiance to him. This makes one’s belief in God so much more relational, and it explains in much greater detail how it is that those end-of-the-sermon appeals so many preachers make to “just believe” should be so much more than mere lip service on the part of the listeners. If by believing in Jesus we are beloving him and declaring allegiance to him, well…now we have something, don’t we?

Mercy: Modern usage of the word “mercy” implies a situation where one party is in a position of power over another; it also implies that someone has done something wrong and is in need of forgiveness. While this is true of the relationship between God and mankind, we would do well to realize that “mercy” in its original context is not tied just to this definition. Instead, “mercy” is synonymous with the word compassion. So, when the blind beggar asks Jesus to have mercy on him, he is not asking for forgiveness (it is not his fault his legs do not work) he is asking for compassion. When Jesus tells the story about the Good Samaritan and asks which of the travelers did the right thing for the victim, his listeners respond with “the one who showed him mercy”. This was not to suggest that the people who were walking along the road were in any way superior to the victim; rather, the Good Samaritan is the only one who shows compassion for the other. Please don’t misunderstand; mercy and forgiveness are important traits to develop, but they are largely reactive virtues. By this I mean they appear only when someone has wronged us or when we are in a position of superiority. Meanwhile, compassion is a proactive virtue, one that we are continually given opportunity to exercise regardless of the situation. In this way, I think it is the better application of the word “mercy” in many (granted, not all) of its appearances in scripture.

Righteousness: I have been tempted in the past to write a book on this topic, but I would not know where to start. My thesis, though, would be that we have misunderstood the word “righteous” in scripture and have misapplied it in our theology. Too often we think of it in terms of being holy. Now, the word walks hand in hand with attitudes of hypocrisy, legalism, arrogance and the judgmental practices of the pious, hence the ugly term “self-righteous”. To define righteousness as doing what’s right is to limit the word far too much. A perfect example of what I mean can be found in Abraham Heschel’s book on the OT prophets, where he dissects many of the appeals from these men of God who constantly remind the people that they are failing miserably in carrying out God’s intention for the world. The prophets often list a bunch of activities that the people are doing that on the surface would appear to be righteous, because on the surface they are advisable things to do. For instance, the people are having festivals in honor of God, they are gathering in sacred assemblies, they are offering burnt sacrifices and singing songs of worship. But the prophets write that none of this pleases God because the people have failed to bring about justice in the world. In other words, the purest form of righteousness, or the best action that we can do in the world—more so than all that sacred church activity—is that of justice. Borg addresses how justice in modern terms is most often associated with criminal activity and assessing the appropriate punishment. But this is not what righteousness is concerned with in the Bible. Where God is concerned, justice/righteousness is connected directly to the social order that we create in our communities and our world. It is concerned with equality; it is concerned for the abandoned and abused and with balancing the scales for those who find themselves on the outside looking in. Justice reminds us that the earth and everything in it is the Lord’s; therefore, the monopolization of resources and goods is both corrupt and anti-biblical—we are stewards of all that we see, not the owners and titleholders of it. Borg offers a helpful verse that I had not considered to bring this into a clearer view—Matthew 5:10. This verse in Jesus’ sermon claims that we are blessed when we are persecuted for righteousness. Borg points out that even in a world with many different ideals it is rare that one is persecuted for doing the right thing or for behaving in accordance with a moral code. Just about every religion, regardless of its differences, endorses good behavior. Even atheists and agnostics would not persecute someone for being a good citizen or for allowing honorable principles to guide one’s choices. If, however, we were to read that word “righteousness” as it is likely intended, then it would say: Blessed are those who are persecuted for justice. Suddenly, we can relate to the notion of people pushing back. Justice demands that we rethink the order of things. It challenges against the status quo. It calls for change and breaks down barriers that people have built up over long periods of time. It defies greed and entitlement. It calls out and exposes human tendencies that have been evident throughout history, where those who have a lot think that they have somehow “earned” their place/position and that those who do not have anything are also positioned exactly where they deserve to be—as if hard work and a little elbow grease is all that “those people” need.

Right.

Tell that to the child soldiers in Africa, who, after watching their parents’ bodies get chopped into pieces, are given the choice to die the same way or to join the militants who attacked them in the first place. Tell that to the preteen girls being sold like cattle in the sex slave trade. Tell it to the countless millions who live without clean water and medical supplies in 3rd world countries around the world. Tell that to the man who lost his job when the market went south, to the woman who was awoken in the middle of the night by police officers to be informed that her husband and child were killed by a drunk driver. Tell these people who are so far underwater that this is just how things are, that pulling themselves up by their bootstraps and making their way in the world is what you or your grandpappy did, and that’s how the world works. See, when we begin to challenge these notions, believe me, persecution is on the horizon. In fact, I know a lot of Christians who would quickly rail at me for making such “liberal and socialistic” claims. I know many Christians who would say that I am more concerned with social justice than I am with the spreading of the gospel. They would tell me that these people need Jesus, not cleaner water. What good will food and shelter do these people if their souls are destined for hell?! I find these accusations and questions to be ironic. I find that our general stinginess and our unwillingness to part with our luxurious lifestyles are far more indicative of people who are more concerned with worldly things than with spiritual things. Our understanding of the word “righteousness” needs to be revisited, and quickly. We are not righteous if we are apathetic to or ignorant of injustice.

We are, as the prophets argued, merely perpetuating a system that God hates, and often for our own benefit or comfort.

Borg condenses all of the conversation regarding God’s character and personality into three schools of thought. The first group sees God as being indifferent and uninvolved. The theists we studied in high school are the most visible members of this group. The underlying thesis here is that God started this whole “thing” called life or the universe in motion and then he left it to run its course. The image that sticks in my head is that of a guy getting ready to mow his lawn. He pulls the cord on the mower to get the engine running, then gets distracted by something else that needs his attention and steps away, leaving the engine purring until the inevitable happens…it runs out of gas. This is, admittedly, a somewhat depressing view of God’s personality (forgetful and absent-minded) as well as a strike against our perceived value to him. In my analogy, we are a yard tool.
The second school of thought, according to Borg, sees God as involved in the affairs of the universe, but it also determines that God is a punitive and threatening force in the world. Even though there are many verses of scripture that suggest God is a loving being, there are countless Christians who think of God as a vindictive being. They point to the stories where he seems to play the role of the angry king, the jilted lover, the jealous husband, the frustrated parent, etc… God is given credit (or perhaps blame is a better term here) for flooding the earth to kill all of its inhabitants, save one family. He rains fire down upon the heathens, opens up the earth to swallow his own children when they disappoint him, and sends bears to eat children who mock his prophet. This is a God we serve mostly out of fear. We agree that he gives fair warning, but woe be to those who do not respond in time. When he brings the wrath, “few there be” who survive.

The third segment of people Borg isolates is those who see God as compassionate and loving. This group serves God out of a desire to relate to him as opposed to out of a desire to appease him. This relationship is formed largely on trust.

What these last two schools of thought share in common is that God is a passionate being. The great Abraham Heschel writes so well on this topic—the pathos of God. Our temptation, as Christians, is to combine the last two schools of thought, saying that God is capable of each of these characteristics. Since we see evidence of each we want to argue for the complexity of God, and when it does not tie up into a nice logical bow, we fall back on “Well, he is God, he can do what he wants; on some days he can slaughter the infidel and on others he can welcome everyone home.” Borg suggests this never works. I quote him here: “Attempts to combine the gracious God with the punitive God invariably lead to conditional grace. There is an IF, a condition. God loves us and will save us IF… whenever God’s grace and love are made conditional, the punitive God triumphs.”

I WONDER, BLOG READERS, DO YOU AGREE WITH BORG’S ASSESSMENT OF WHAT HAPPENS WHEN WE COMBINE THESE TWO SCHOOLS OF THOUGHT?

Borg follows up this chapter by returning to this “image” of God: Jesus. He suggests that if we want to know God’s character, we need to watch God in action as a person. In other words, why anthropomorphize him when he already seems to have done it to himself?

For what it’s worth, this is something I have been arguing for years, but I seem to have a hard time finding people who will agree with me. The other day I engaged someone in an argument/discussion about God. I suggested that perhaps the descriptions of God in the OT are imperfect. What if the flood did not happen that way? What if that horrible tragedy was the ancient explanation (a.k.a. oral tradition) for what today’s insurance companies still call “an act of God”? What if the people who put children to death did it because they “thought” God would want them to, since it was a normal cultural practice of the ancient world? Would this be the first time someone has stated with authority that God told him to do something that no one else sees as probable? A month ago Randall Cobb said that God told him to return a kickoff from his own end zone; do we believe him? Radical religious groups still claim that God tells them to kill the infidel in order to cleanse the world. Most Christians find these people to be wacky, yet most Christians still endorse the Israelites’ slaughtering of other nations as God’s will and desire. Such a double standard leaps off the pages for me, where for others it seems just fine. So, when I began to argue about this with someone recently, I told him this was evidence of people making God in their own image. He told me that to deny that God told the Israelites to do these things was my own attempt to make God in MY image. “The opposite is true,” I said, “as a broken man I am perfectly capable of doing something reprehensible and then finding a way to justify it using scripture. I am not trying to make God like me; I am trying to make God like Jesus.”

Ostensibly, some are not comfortable with the apparent selectivity that I propose regarding scripture. They suggest that I arbitrarily pick out the scriptures that are true and in the meantime become my own authority. In fact, I believe they are all “true” just not all factual. But, that is a philosophy that not everyone understands, and it is one I have already covered in previous posts. Anyway, my response to this is two-fold (for now anyway, as this post is getting long). First, my point of view is no more selective than that from those who say the writers of the Bible established that God’s movement from punitive to gracious was tied to a different period of time or a different dispensation. These people have selectively ignored other verses that suggest God does not change; furthermore, they fail to explain how it is that if God has changed, why is more punitive action is on the horizon? Secondly, I do not think it is arbitrary to align my position on the character of God with those verses that inform us of his brilliant teaching and his redemptive action(s) through the person of Jesus.

Basically, regarding God, Borg states what so many of us inherently know to be true but regularly attempt to circumvent: We really do not and cannot know with any sense of certainty anything that we claim to know or understand about God. If you are a keen and intuitive reader, than you are probably saying to yourself: “If this is true, then why is Borg writing about God? That seems a bit paradoxical and hypocritical.” Right you are. In defense of Borg, the chapter mostly addresses that curious perception we have about God which is that we tend to view Him as a force that is superior to and outside of our own universe or reality. Borg suggests that this is the result of how the word “God” has been defined in our modern language. He offers that a better way to define this word is to think of God as the ancients did, as a divine presence both in and a part of this world/universe/reality. Ultimately, though, he ends his thoughts on God with a humble and, in my opinion, correct admission that when God introduces himself to Moses with the tautology of “I am”, he is saying nothing at all about himself other than that HE is beyond our language. If this is true, then, much like C.S. Lewis famously suggested, being without words means we are also without a concept, a definition, or any complete understanding.

Most people can accept such an argument about God, but Borg’s treatment of the Bible is a tad more controversial. He argues (convincingly, I might add) for a more historical and metaphorical reading of scripture. His reasoning is tied to the original purpose for these “books” and to the canonization process through which they have become, for us, a sacred, single book. Borg contends that the way we think of books today has confused our understanding of these various writings from an ancient world. For instance, nowadays an author writes a book and is relatively uncertain of who will be reading it. Even if a book is intended for a specific audience, it is pretty rare when the author actually knows the people who will read it. In the case of the Bible, all these “books” were written by their authors for people that they knew; there was a specific and intended audience. Oh, and guess what? We were not it. In many cases, these were not even narratives; some were letters directly to the author’s contemporaries. In these cases we get one half of the conversation. Furthermore, it was never assumed by these numerous authors that their compositions (some of which are incredibly brief and personal) would be included in a single volume covering a vast amount of time or dispensations; they would be shocked to know what has happened with their work. In some cases they might even regret writing some of the things that they wrote. Additionally, I think that there are some who would be distraught to discover that we took descriptions and turned them into prescriptions. A work of literature can be mimetic without having to be didactic.

I could go on about authorial intention, multiple and uncertain authorship, the history behind a somewhat muddy canonization process, genre theory, translation issues, etc… But this has been covered ad nausea by people much smarter than me. Instead, I will leave you with some lengthy quotes from Borg that I think tie this post off quite nicely:
“[The Bible has been called] ‘the Word’ of God, not the ‘words’ of God…For Christians ‘the Word of God’ as known, revealed and embodied in Jesus is the decisive ‘Word of God’. It outranks the Bible. Jesus is the norm of the Bible. When the Bible and what we see in Jesus conflict, as they sometimes do, Jesus trumps the Bible. This is what it means to say that Jesus is the Word become flesh. In him, Christians see more clearly than anywhere else the character and passion of God.”
“…the Bible tells Christians how our spiritual ancestors…saw things—and not how God sees things. The Bible includes their experiences of God, their stories about God, their understandings of life with God, and how we should live. But it is their story—not God’s infallible, inerrant, and absolute story. It includes their wisdom, insight and convictions. It also includes their limitations, blind spots and misapprehensions. Reading the Bible attentively, carefully, and historically makes this clear.”

Consider what Borg is implying by writing this. It allows us to understand how it is God is said to have endorsed the annihilation of women and children, the slaughter of the infidel at the end of the sword, the silencing of women in public worship, the practice of slavery, the death penalty for children who disobey parents, the stoning of adulterers, etc… These stories and more have been damaging to the mission of the church for centuries. But a historical and metaphorical treatment of this book as explained in the passage above reopens the conversation about these highly volatile scriptures that make little sense, especially in light of the prolific teachings and the cherished example of Jesus. We would no longer have to answer for some of those parts we would like to skip in our Bible studies by saying something as lame as “well that was then and this is now” while conveniently passing over yet another verse that says God is “the same yesterday, today and forever”.

I realize this is not a popular opinion regarding the Bible; in some circles it would be thought of as heretical. Regardless, Borg’s point of view does not create any dilemma for me. Such an approach to scripture does not change the Bible’s authority. It is still the document through which we gain life, wisdom and understanding; it is still the text by which I, personally, will judge my own life, choices and actions. It still remains, for me, as it was for the psalmist, the light by which I navigate through the shadow lands of this world.

When I was a kid I could relate to this qualifier. I can remember going to bed worried about my standing with God. I had a couple of those days when everyone seemed to disappear, so I would consider calling my grandparents to ensure that my imagination had indeed gotten out of control and that the rapture had not actually taken place. I never even heard the sound of trumpets!

To equate the word ‘salvation’ with anxiety, or with smugness as one of Borg’s students suggests, is deeply unsatisfying—at best, it seems incredibly backwards. Borg affirms my premonitions.

First, the contemporary meaning of the word ‘salvation’ is not necessarily in line with the biblical meanings of the word. I’ll not present the minutiae of Borg’s etymological study here, but suffice it to say that a vast portion of the biblical conversation concerning salvation is focused not on who gets the crown on his head and who gets the smoldering pitchfork elsewhere; rather, it is centered on the transformation that takes place on THIS side of eternity. Moreover, the most vivid applications of the word are tied directly to very tangible events in Israel’s history, most notably deliverance from slavery, return from exile, and rescue from peril.

This might be a good time for wrest away Borg’s microphone and step onto my own soapbox for a moment. A significant theme that I have witnessed throughout the story of the bible is the ache of God’s heart for those who are broken, abused, left out and left behind. To that end, the most passionate expressions that we read in the OT come from the prophets who are unswervingly focused on one subject: bringing justice to their world. In fact, the most commonly used reference point in Israel’s history is their delivery from the bondage of Egypt. This is a story that the modern preacher loves to use as an analogy for people and the world. In this somewhat overused parallel Pharaoh is Satan, Egypt is “the world”, the slaves are unbelievers who need to be liberated from the chains that sin sets upon them, the Red Sea is a baptism, the wilderness is our walk with God where we learn to trust him, the pillars of cloud and fire are the Spirit, and the promised land is heaven. Granted, this symbolism works on a very basic level, and even Paul occasionally used it as such when he attempted to blend his Judaic history with a Christian worldview that invited Gentiles to join the tribe of God. But, in my humble opinion, the analogy has a few holes. For instance, the Satan/Pharaoh connection is quite a stretch, given what we know of Satan, which is very little. Ironically, the Egyptians were the ones thoroughly baptized in the water while the Israelites walked across on dry ground. When Israel got to the Promised Land, they screwed things up horribly and were eventually enslaved again (hardly seems like the heaven I was taught about as a kid). So, the parallel is not as strong as we might assume.

I would propose that the story of Egypt is also about what actually happened there (I know…crazy right?). A people group was horribly mistreated. A powerful government imposed its will upon a minority group by using violence and intimidation. Furthermore, that government, alarmed when that minority group began to grow, responded in an extremist way by exterminating their children. This people group was exploited, manipulated, and coerced. Their rights were forcibly removed from them. Their voice was squelched. They lost freedoms that every man should have by virtue of his own humanity. They were viewed as something less than human; they were dogs to be beaten and shamed into submission. When we see the story of Egypt for exactly what it was, then we understand that salvation was liberation from gross injustice.

Not surprisingly, then, after this people group is delivered, with their immediate history in the rearview mirror and God as their guide, they compose a governing manifesto. This document includes ordinances like leaving behind extra crops for others who do not have enough to eat, not charging interest on loans, releasing people from their debt every fifty years, and not having a king or ruling entity who would naturally be tempted to take control of the economic resources to build a military and tax his subjects. We need merely to look over human history to know that the governance of kings often creates a society of class differences, educational discrepancies, and social discord. When a partisan group controls the political arena we witness economies suffering, greed and selfishness taking root, and on every level of society, community and general civility are horribly compromised. It makes me wonder why today’s preachers do not use the story of Egypt and its salvation message to talk about these specific ideas. As Borg suggests, it’s not like we don’t still have our own Pharaohs, Herods and Caesars today. Oh, right, it must be because we have such a good handle on fiscal responsibility, such solid and fair financial practices and overall economic stability. Yeah, it’s a waste of time to worry about easing and addressing the social and pecuniary injustices of the world—that was just a way of life and a meaning of the word salvation for those people back then. What we need to talk about more is going to heaven while people all around us are living in hell.

I like how the theologian Verna Dozier puts it, a world of justice and peace is the “dream of God’. Salvation is not solely about where we go when we die. It is not solely about Christ dying so we can live with God in eternal bliss. If this is what salvation is about, then Jesus would have spent much more time on those subjects and much less time on discussing the arrival of the kingdom here and now. His focus would not have been transforming the world he lived in at that moment, if all he cared about was the world to come. If ‘salvation’ is really about the afterlife, Jesus should have instructed his followers to hold people underwater during their baptism to ensure they’d really be saved.

The Christmas story informs us that Jesus brings peace on EARTH. As Borg writes, “Salvation [is] the twofold transformation of us and the world.” That is not the definition of the word in today’s Christianese, but I like to think about how much better things might be, here and now, if it was.

Borg starts off claiming, rightly, I think, that we have a language barrier in Christianity. Some of my closest friends and I have always believed that church-going folk speak a different language than non-church going folk and that this divide is as much responsible for the exclusionary tendencies of churches as anything else, but Borg takes this notion even further. He suggests that even Christians do not truly grasp the language of Christianity.

His opening salvo is dedicated to explaining that this happens for two reasons.
1. Modern Christians tend to place everything in what Borg calls a “heaven-hell” framework.
2. There has been a “literalization” of the biblical text over the centuries, which has affected meaning. (I know I have posted some of this in the past, but I expect Borg will be much more thorough than I have been).
To understand item #1 Borg reminds us that frameworks matter. He wisely points out that the word elephant means something different in the framework when someone is talking about a game park in Africa than it does within the framework of a political cartoon.

Thus, we often dive into the language of Christianity within the framework of one central idea, and that is that the ultimate purpose of Christianity is to get people to heaven. Therefore, Borg writes that there exist four central elements to what I will coin Christianese (Borg does not use this term, but I think it simplifies things for my posts): the afterlife, sin and forgiveness, Jesus’ death for our sins, and believing. Moreover, all language surrounding Christianity gets viewed from behind these particular lenses. There are some problems with this, however. For instance, today the Christian faith is rooted largely in the confirmation of “truth” statements. It is essential that one believes certain truths and affirms these truths with familiar, often memorized creeds or statements. Look at any church website in America and you will find their Statement of Faith all of which are composed in the jargon of Christianese and are set within the framework of “getting people to heaven”. Yet, in the Bible and in pre-modern Christianity belief or faith was not about affirming truth statements. Faith in the bible is largely about commitment and loyalty to God. Ostensibly, the words that we use in our truth statements have, over time, become stumbling blocks for others. And, I might add, not just for people who deny the Christian faith, but for people who have been part of it for a long time. Consider the communion service, for instance, where we talk about eating Christ’s body and drinking his blood (which is not only a great example of how language creates barriers, but also a great segue into why we should not read the bible as literalists).

As for literalism, well, not much needs to be written to explain this. I think most people know how this game is played. “A perfect God would not inspire an imperfect book, therefore, everything in the Bible is true, and by true we mean everything in the Bible happened as it is written in the Bible. Because if comes from God it is factual and absolute in every way.” This means the earth is relatively young, that Adam and Eve were the first two people, and that a talking snake tricked them into eating a piece of fruit, which set all of this mess in motion. In fact, no matter how fantastical the story in the bible might be, it is crucial that we believe that it happened that way because to suggest differently is to suggest that the bible itself is erroneous.

Let me step into Borg’s way here for a moment and say that as a literature teacher I have had a much easier time with this than most. I have always understood that something can be true without it being a fact. I do not believe that a lady made a house out of candy and used it to toss children into her oven, but I know for a fact that candy has been used many times over to trick children into a bad situation. I do not need to believe for a fact that this woman was eventually thrown into her own oven by two children, but I do know for a fact that many people who spring traps for others are caught in their own devices. So, it is not a problem for me to say that something can be true without it being factual. But for some bible readers, this is very, very difficult. The kicker in all of this is that Borg reminds these more conservative and traditional types that, from a historical perspective, orthodoxy and literalism have never shared the same bed. He informs us that Luther, Calvin and other important reformers did NOT affirm literalism.
Finally, Borg closes down his introduction by suggesting an historical-metaphorical approach to reading the bible. He states that our treatment of history is often tied to affirming whether or not an event happened. We often think about the bible this way. Was Lot’s wife really turned into a pillar of salt? Did the axe head really float on the water? Did Jonah really live in the belly of a big fish for three days and nights? Borg suggests we ask not if something happened, but rather what the words or the story would have meant for the communities that were using or telling the stories. So, according to Borg we should ask: “Given what their words meant for their then, what might their meaning be for our now?”

I know…it is a sentence I had to read over a few times, too. But Borg’s strongest argument is that we need to relativize language rather than read it as absolute. Granted, anyone still reading this post is reading that sentence again and feels their stomach knotting up slightly, but give it a moment to sink in. Essentially, Christians have already done this with regards to scripture language on the topic of slavery. At one point in history Christians refused to read the bible is this way, and as a result they embarrassingly supported slavery into the modern era. A re-reading of those verses through the historical-metaphorical lens placed slavery into the correct context for us today. We—are you sitting for this—relativized and adjusted biblical teaching about slavery to fit our current culture by concerning ourselves more with meaning than factuality when it came to the text.

As for the “metaphorical” side of the historical-metaphorical approach, well that is already practiced by most. Few people believe that God is actually a rock, or that he had a sword for a tongue. The greater challenge is being willing to acknowledge that perhaps other stories in scripture are also metaphorical. Could the story of Eden be such a tale? I think so, but maybe that is too much right now for others to accept.

Ultimately, what Borg is asking is this: do we really know what words like, salvation, righteousness, justice, eternal life, and redemption mean? Or have these words morphed over time so they could be understood and publicly declared within a modern truth statement? I am looking forward to reading further on the subject.

• A relationship with God “does not just happen overnight”
• God wants (expects) you to “give 110%”
• When it comes to your relationship with God, you need to “go all out” “give it your best shot”; and “want it more than the other guy”.

I know, it sounds a bit ridiculous doesn’t it? But it is not nearly as off base as you might think. Consider that most (perhaps all) of today’s popular religions have their origins in the ancient world, where people were expected to ardently adhere to tomes of rules or laws as well as explicitly detailed practices that could put them in a favorable position with God/the gods. In some religions, this ancient-world influence has diminished slightly, as in the case of Christianity where the lists of codes and regulations has been significantly reduced over time due to a stark change in philosophy that moved from a strictly Jewish platform to one based on grace. Still, though, it is tough to find a Christian community that is not focused on following rules, setting standards, or establishing a list of behaviors that will either get you past the bouncers at heaven’s gate, or get you tossed out into the back alley. Whether it is the human element (i.e. our compulsion to believe that we need to earn what we get… or our desire to appease a higher power with all of our meritorious behavior) or whether it be the ever-present specter of ancestral rituals that continues to course through our bloodstream and inform our perception of God, religious people at the very least appear to work quite hard at making God/the gods happy, and this just doesn’t make sense to me in light of the radical concepts from other philosophers and theologians who have dared to suggest that man’s relationship to God should be just that–relational.

More to come on this subject in future posts…it’s Saturday, and I need to locate a goat, pigeon or chicken by tomorrow

An example:
Me: “Theresa, do you want to order in tonight, or go out for dinner?”
Theresa: “Yes.”

Essentially, my wife’s loving (and somewhat frustrating) attempt to curb me of this bad habit leaves me without an answer at all, other than that she is apparently ok with either/all of my suggestions. Now, keep this analogy in mind as I move ahead with my post.

In a different blog post this summer, I suggested that a literal reading of the Bible is difficult to accept in light of how many interpretations of scripture exist. Rob Bell actually exposes this problem when he begins to challenge those who believe that they can determine with any sense of certainty who will be in heaven (saved) and who will not (lost) based upon some formulaic criteria. Theologians call this Soteriology. Whether he intended it or not, Bell confirms the problems that Christianity has with all of its sects, groups, and denominations and the language and specific scriptures they employ.

First, in terms of language we have terms like lost, found, saved, redeemed, damned, born again, Spirit-filled, etc… Are these terms interchangeable? Sometimes I am not sure. But that’s probably another post. Let’s continue with this one…

Where I live (Atlanta) one can easily drive past five churches on the way to the corner store. Each of the churches has its own idea about what people need to “do” in order to “get to heaven” (again, I use quotes because of all the potential terms that seem to imply this idea). Most of these church goers think (although, not all would express it) that the people in the other churches are not only theologically wrong about something, but also that they are wrong about some of the essential aspects of soteriology. I guess it goes without saying that if one is wrong about that, then one could be in big trouble. Bell seems to be addressing a question that, admittedly, I have asked myself a few times: Why is something so essential to mankind’s eternal placement so complicated, or even remotely convoluted? How is it that so many brilliant, well-meaning, godly people, who study hard and have the same right to claim to have received revelation from God, have come up with differing views on this vital topic?

If you read Love Wins, you’ll find a decent—although, not exhaustive—survey of the challenges of soteriology.
• Nowhere in scripture does the phrase “personal relationship with Jesus Christ” exist. Yet, that is what most people are told they need to be saved. We use this term a lot in Christianity.
• Nowhere in scripture is the term “free will” used, yet most people believe that humans exercise this choice in order to be saved. Should such an essential doctrine exist without even being mentioned one time in the Bible?
• Protestant theology states that salvation is a free gift. This means that it cannot be earned or achieved. To clarify, we cannot DO anything in order to be saved. Yet, most if not all denominations tell us that we must (at least) accept, confess and believe, which are all actions that we must DO. Some take it even further, demanding baptism, speaking in tongues, etc…
• The thief on the cross simply asks to be remembered, and Jesus says they will be in paradise together.
• Nicodemus is told to be “born again.”
• The disciples are told that in order to be accepted by Jesus they must forgive others.
• Later, the disciples are told they must do the will of the Father if they want to see Him.
• Later, the disciples are told to “stand firm” if they want to be saved.
• In one story, Jesus forgives the sins of a man based on his faith, in another he forgives the sins of a man based on the faith of his friends, and in still another story, a woman is “saved” because she has washed Christ’s feet with her tears.
• Paul is saved when a bright light and a voice knocks him off a horse and sends him to Damascus. As far as I know, he is the only one who has had that experience.
• Finally, Bell challenges his own denominational upbringing which suggests that all that is necessary is that people “believe”. Bell points out the numerous verses that inform us demons believe Jesus is the one and only Son of God.

The point of this quick overview is not to start a long and drawn out debate on soteriology. To be honest I have almost no interest in the potential arguments for or against this brief overview, and I doubt there is a position out there that will bring absolute clarity to the conversation or will be new. This post does not even begin to scratch the surface of all of the post crucifixion/church-age theology that could enter the conversation. The point of this post is to acknowledge that there is plenty of fodder here for well-meaning, highly trained, intellectual people to stake their claims about what is “truth” and what is necessary for salvation.

In closing this part of my review of Bell’s book, I am left to assume that Bell’s crime (in the view of his detractors) is in hinting at the possibility that the best approach here is to employ Theresa’s strategy and simply say “Yes” to all the postulates (btw…if you have completely forgotten the opening analogy already, you might need to employ some active reading strategies).:)

If this is true of Bell, there’s probably some people who take issue with him over it.

Ok, let’s move on to the accusation that Bell is a Universalist. Christian universalism denies that a hell exists (Bell says hell is currently in operation, so that’s damaging to his Universalist credentials), but more importantly, Universalists argue that all people who have ever lived will be restored by God at the end of time. Bell has addressed this issue by denying that he is a Universalist, claiming instead that God gives people choice, which means that people have a right to reject God. If people choose to ignore God’s loving appeals, then God will not “force” them into a relationship with him. This means that there can/will be people who will not be restored to their heavenly Father. This statement by Bell not only disqualifies him from being a Universalist, but it also makes Bell VERY unpopular in reformed/Calvinistic circles. In fact, one might be able to make a case that Bell’s doctrine of “free will” is at the root of most of the criticism he faces. Ironically, some of the people jumping on the “Bash Bell Bandwagon” share his overarching theology of human free will.

Now, clearly the Universalist and the Calvinist are on opposite ends of the spectrum when discussing how the chips will fall at the end, but they are aligned in perfect symmetry on the notion that God has determined who will be saved and who will be damned at the end of time. Bell makes enemies in both camps by arguing for the theology of free will, which is a whole new issue I don’t have the energy or wherewithal to cover. My interest and expertise in all things theological has severe limits, as I am sure is painfully obvious by now.

One of the points that Bell attempts to stress throughout his book (that undoubtedly makes him a target as a potential Universalist) is that the Gospel is the “good news”. Without going into the historical background behind this term and Jesus’ use of it within cultural context, let me just say that other than the prophets—a unique calling and office— we rarely see fear tactics or drastic warnings as a way of sharing the story of redemption in the Bible. People who criticize a “soft hell” or a highly inclusive heaven often do so because they believe that there is little motivation for people to “behave” without a valid reason to do so. Inherent in this idea is that people are more likely to serve God out of duty rather than out of love. Church leaders do not often publically verbalize what they are thinking, which is that the brooding threat of eternal punishment keeps people in line, focused, and dedicated; it motivates people to reach standards and pushes them towards deeper commitment. In the meantime, getting people to repent and believe/accept, etc…has become like closing a sales deal. There are conferences around the country where strategies for “soul winning” are conducted, some of which include what is essentially cajoling or frightening people into heaven by focusing on the alternative. Bell thinks that the message of Christ actually was GOOD NEWS, and he dares to suggest that inviting people into the wonderful story/idea that Christ promoted and lived out is a far more compelling way to engage in these meaningful discussions. We do not find Jesus scaring people into following him. Quite to the contrary, the people are attracted to him because of the love and care he constantly shows them. He is inclusive, accepting, generous, etc… Ironically, the only people Jesus ever threatens are the people who think they know everything scripture has ever revealed, and in all of their brilliance and knowledge about the mysteries that surround eternity and the origin, characteristics and manifestations of God, etc…they end up denying that Jesus is his Son.

Turns out the idea of taking an authoritative stance in order to threaten, frighten, accuse and intimidate people, while possessing an attitude of spiritual superiority, is ONE possible approach to sharing one’s faith. It was practiced by the Pharisees, though, not by Jesus. So, we have Jesus’ style of ministry and the preferred methods of the Pharisees. I’ll let you decide for yourself which role Bell’s internet attackers most closely resemble.

Superstitions arise as the result of the spurious identification of patterns. Even pigeons are superstitious. In an experiment where food is delivered randomly, pigeons will note what they were doing when the pellet arrived, such as twirling to the left and then pecking a button, and perform the maneuver over and over until the next pellet arrives. A pigeon rain dance. The behavior is not much different than in the case of a baseball player who forgets to shave one morning, hits a home run a few hours later and then makes it a policy never to shave on game days.

Beliefs come first; reasons second. That’s the insightful message of “The Believing Brain,” by Michael Shermer, the founder of Skeptic magazine. In the book, he brilliantly lays out what modern cognitive research has to tell us about his subject—namely, that our brains are “belief engines” that naturally “look for and find patterns” and then infuse them with meaning. These meaningful patterns form beliefs that shape our understanding of reality. Our brains tend to seek out information that confirms our beliefs, ignoring information that contradicts them. Mr. Shermer calls this “belief-dependent reality.” The well-worn phrase “seeing is believing” has it backward: Our believing dictates what we’re seeing.

Here is the question I have then: What effect, if any, would this theory have on one’s belief in the supernatural?

Oh, and by the way…for what it’s worth–I think it is ironic that a strong argument for atheism essentially still confirms Paul’s statements about faith…right??? (…the evidence of things NOT seen). I think Paul would have been difficult to debate with. I think he would have agreed with most (not all) of what atheists say about the irrationality of belief in God. Thoughts?