Reconciling Faith and Science: The “Humanness” of Science, Part 3

More examples of the “humanness” of scientific inquiry…

When Albert Einstein created the General Theory of Relativity, he didn’t like what he discovered. His theory predicted that the universe was slowly expanding or contracting – the universe was moving, one way or the other. At the time, that was a completely unconventional idea. So much so, that Einstein did something very human: the thought that the universe may not be uniform or constant was so repulsive to him that he inserted a “fudge factor”  – a variable constant, retrofitted to keep the universe in a state of eternal equilibrium. Einstein’s theory told him what he didn’t want to accept…so he changed the formula to adapt to his beliefs.

In the 1920s, Edwin Hubble (Hubble telescope) further confirmed that the universe was in fact expanding. So, Einstein actually took a trip to see Hubble’s data with his own eyes. Both men believed in a static universe – but eventually conceded the point. The universe came into existence sometime in the past. Into the thirties and forties, scientists continued to rail against the implications of Hubble’s discovery. In 1938, when asked about the issue, chemist Walter Nerst angrily stated: “We cannot form a scientific hypothesis which contradicts the very foundations of science.”

The dissention continued through the forties, fifties, and sixties. Astrophysicist Arthur Eddington stated: “Philosophically, the notion of a beginning to the present order of nature is repugnant.” Rather than accepting the expanding universe and the beginning of existence, scientists spent their time coming up with alternate theories to contradict it. In 1948, Scientists Gold, Bondi, and Hoyle came up with the Steady State model while other scientists adhered to the “oscillating-universe” model. Both models stated that the universe had no starting point and remained in a state of equilibrium – Newtonian physics was safe. But eventually in 1965, two scientists in the Bell Telephone Lab provided data to support the “big bang”: cosmic microwave background radiation – a left over relic from the origins of the universe. 

 By the 1990s, based on mathematical computation and computer-generated models, most astrophysicists confidently stated that all solar systems in the universe behave in the same way as ours. In 1995, Michel Mayor and Didier Queloz discovered a planet with similar characteristics to Jupiter orbiting a star in the constellation Pegasus. Everyone assumed this planet with similar physical properties would behave just like Jupiter does in relation to our Sun. They were very surprised to learn that the planet behaved nothing like Jupiter. It hurries around its host star every 4.2 days. It takes the earth 365 days. The planet only measured 1/8 the distance from its star that Mercury is from our Sun. So, it was closer and faster. About these differences, Mayor said, “It was very strange to consider the attitude of people facing something completely in disagreement with theory…some astronomers said things like ‘Oh, this is not a planet because you cannot form Jupiter-like planets close to their stars.’” But obviously, you can. 

Once again, like last week – am I making a case against science? No. I like science. I’m making a case for the very real “humanness” of any academic discipline. Every discipline has stories like these in its history. Yet, though religious ones are paraded for a wide audience, you have probably never heard about these. Next post, I’ll explain why we feel that “humanness” in science is unacceptable.

Reconciling Faith and Science: The “Humanness” of Science, Part 1

Here are some historical examples of the “humanness” of science: where human beliefs and paradigms directly affected scientific inquiry:

Copernicus, in support of his proof for the heliocentric theory, cited Hermes Trismegistus (an occultist from ancient times whose writings found popular appeal in the Rennaisance occult revival) who worshipped the Sun as the essence of God. Copernicus derived his initial understanding of the Sun as the center of the universe from occult writings of his time. He then moved forward to test that hypothesis on the assumption that his occult/religious beliefs were correct.

Johannes Kepler, one of the heroes of the scientific revolution, believed the universe was modeled on the Trinity: “For in the act of making, God…arranged the adorable image of the Trinity. The Sun represents the Father. The outer ring of the cosmos represents Christ. The space between planetary bodies is the Holy Spirit.” Though it’s no longer portrayed that way, Kepler’s scientific reasoning was founded on his theology. He also made horoscopes to predict the future and believed that all the planets made musical harmonies.

Isaac Newton was a devout alchemist – he wrote over a million words on alchemy (most only exist in manuscript form). Part of this writing involved corresponding with John Locke (the political philosopher and British empiricist) and Robert Boyle (the father of modern Chemistry). Newton adapted his alchemical beliefs in an all-pervasive force connecting the universe to his scientific work. This “universal fluid” acted upon all things on earth as well. He named the spiritual force “gravity.” He was also a chronic date setter for the return of Christ, using the Book of Revelation. Before gravity became a scientific mainstay, it was a religious belief.

The English term “electricity” was introduced by an alchemist, Jean-Baptiste von Helmont, in 1650. Helmont believed that electricity was the fluid of the universe that connected his alchemical studies to theology and science. “Electrical theologians” began to appear on the scene. Pietist Friedrich Oetinger believed electricity was the “world spirit” that energized life.

Even the beginning of evolutionary theory was not immune from religious foundations. G.F. Meier proposed that animals ascend the scale of evolutionary progress over several lives: “It is possible that animals representing the lowest class should be promoted through death into a second, from there into a third…” Charles Fourier adopted a similar “scientific” view of life: he believed that the evolution of species occurred through the Pythagorean doctrine of the transmigration of souls. In other words, the religious belief of reincarnation informed Fourier’s pre-Darwinian views of evolution.

Franz Anton Mesmer in the 1800s described an occult fluid he called “animal magnetism” that flowed through everything we see and connected our bodies, the earth, and the planets together. Obstruction of the flow of animal magnetism is the cause of human disease. From this concept, the secular disciplines of hypnotism, reflexology, massage, and chiropractic medicine are derived.

Modern medicine is not immune to religious foundations either. A Renaissance occultist and alchemist named Paracelsus played a vital role in the development of modern medicine and anatomy. He developed the first modern theory of metabolism and provided medicine with its first functional conception of physiology. Paracelsus believed that we are spiritually connected the cosmos. Our bodies are merely a smaller version of the universe. So, by studying the zodiac, we can learn about human anatomy. Paracelsus also taught (similar to those before him) that a spiritual fluid resided in each human and that it was transferable to others. He also believed that “there are two kinds of disease, one material affecting the body, the other immaterial in the spirit…When the spirit suffers so does the body, for it manifests itself in the body.” Here, Paracelsus is accurately describing the medical profession’s dealings with psychosomatic or psychophysiological disorders. Psychotropic drugs to combat anxiety, depression, and stress-related illness are top sellers in the U.S. today. Paracelsus was describing it in the 1500s…using a religious perspective.

If you feel that I am attacking science, you have misunderstood my point. I’m not. I like science. I am merely conveying the very real subjectivity that exists in the midst of all human activity. Some people see the “humanness” of science as a point of weakness. But science is a human endeavor and all humans bring their personal beliefs to bear on their work. Until we see that religion and science are both human enterprises, then we are incapable of determining if they fit together or not. Obviously these examples are not modern ones – I wanted to show that our separation of faith and science is a post-Enlightenment phenomenon. I’ll share some modern stories and quotes with you next post.

Spiritual Gifts and Reformed Theology: Can They Co-exist?, Part 2

3) Confining spiritual gifts to conversion: By the time of the Reformation, Christian mysticism had developed into several different strands. The mystical treatises previous to Luther’s time always emphasized the availability of God’s presence in a post-conversion state, similar to the doctrines of sanctification and the baptism in the Holy Spirit of the Holiness and Pentecostal traditions. But Luther consciously rejected these mystics and chose to draw from the work of John Tauler and the anonymous Theologia Germanica instead. Both of these works (and subsequently Luther) taught that all the gifts you need you receive at conversion alone. There is no post-conversion experience and the gifts these works cite are the Isaiah list passed down through Scholasticism. This is really the first place that the idea of “one baptism, many fillings” shows up in Christian history. Any experience a believer can have originates strictly at the salvation moment. There is no baptism in the Holy Spirit other than what the Holy Spirit does to enforce the saving work of Christ.

Because of all of this, Luther’s commentaries pass over most passages that describe Jesus’ healings in the gospels. Miracles have passed away and “no new and special revelation or miracle is necessary” since an “immeasurably greater and more glorious work and miracle” is found in salvation. Tongues is no longer given since the church speaks all languages and only “fanatical spirits and sectarians” would seek such a gift. Luther, like Gregory before him,  attaches merit to not seeking spiritual gifts since “nobody should presume to exercise it if it is not necessary or required.” The inference here is that since God determines all detailed events in life by his sovereignty, the need for signs and wonders should never arise. A miracle would contradict the natural order and ultimately contradict God’s predetermined will.

Calvin towed the line, stating that healing “had its beginning from the Apostles, which afterwards, however, was turned into superstition, as the world almost always degenerates into corruptions.” His cessation sentiments are similar to those before him: “[The possibility of spiritual gifts] either does not exist today or is less commonly seen.” Counterfeit miracles are determined by their association with wrong doctrine rather than their supernatural nature. For Calvin, the more charismatic gifts of 1 Corinthians have mutated into more permanent gifts of the intellect – tongues is seen as the ability to preach in a foreign language and the gift of discernment is the ability to rationally determine false doctrine. That sounds alot like the Reformed tendencies of today to me.

4) Modern expressions of these issues: Charismatics maintained a distinct post-conversion experience until the rise of the the Third Wave movement in Pentecostalism. Beginning in the 1980s with its influence continuing well into the 1990s, the basic premise of Third Wave groups is to embrace the move of the Holy Spirit, particularly the aspects of healing, deliverance, intimacy of worship, and spiritual warfare without disrupting the general church structures or denominations of which they are apart. The phrase was coined by C. Peter Wagner, who spearheaded the doctrinal emphasis of the movement. On a practical level, however, John Wimber and the Vineyard Movement were the driving force behind the Third Wave phenomenon. Wimber, once an associate of Chuck Smith, would eventually separate from Calvary Chapel due to his emphasis on spiritual gifts while choosing to retain a Reformed approach to doctrinal issues. Similarly, Wagner cites a Reformed-based approach to spiritual gifts in describing Third Wave doctrine. This is particularly evident in the Third Wave belief that the baptism in the Holy Spirit only occurs at conversion with multiple fillings that may resemble what Pentecostals would normally consider a second experience. Once again, “one baptism, many fillings” is directly imported from the Reformed tradition. Also, common the Third Wavers is the absence of the gift of tongues. Though the Third Wave movement made some charismatic manifestations acceptable in mainline denominations, it aggressively minimized the distinctive phenomena that had characterized the Pentecostal movement since its inception. Following its Reformed roots, the Third Wave essentially made Pentecostalism non-Pentecostal.

Many theologians, although accepting limited roles of experience, reject a secondary post conversion event. James Dunn, Max Turner, and Veli-Matti Kärkkäinen restrict forms of Spirit baptism to the conversion experience. Unfortunately, even some Pentecostal theologians have gone along with the crowd. Assemblies of God theologian Gordon Fee followed the Reformed tendency to see sanctification as merely a “metaphor for conversion.” So even though charismatic manifestations are now acceptable, all historical attempts to integrate spiritual gifts into Reformed theology have consistently resulted in the diluting of spiritual gifts. Reformed attempts to integrate spiritual gifts have generally left charismatic Christianity a mile wide and an inch deep. History proves this to be true. And though it’s not the popular opinion, I just can’t accept that. I can’t help but feel that Christian spirituality is meant to be deep and event-laden. To minimize the charismata is remove one of the main points of intimacy between us and God. Though others see the gifts as expendable, I’ll take them every time. Can spiritual gifts and Reformed theology co-exist? If historical precedent is any indication, the answer is no.

Spiritual Gifts and Reformed Theology: Can They Co-exist?, Part 1

A little while back, I told some fellow bloggers here that I didn’ t think charismatic gifts (the traditional 1 Corinthians list) and traditional Reformed theology were compatible. Though you could write a book on this topic, I do want to address some the issues I believe make them difficult to reconcile. As always, you’re free to disagree and comment. Please know that I am writing this assuming a basic understanding of both topics at hand. I won’t be stopping for definitions and the like. I’ll handle the issues in this order: 1) allegorization of miracles, 2) the Isaiah gift list, 3) confining spiritual gifts to conversion, and 4) modern expressions of these issues.

1) Allegorization of miracles: Even though the gifts of the Spirit were still common during the postbiblical period (even by “scaffolding model” timelines), clergy began to substitute allegorical interpretations for actual miraculous events and charismata. The need for miracles and spiritual gifts began to be seen as an elementary approach to Christianity, similar to the way the Alexandrian school taught that literal interpretation of scripture was beneath a mature believer. Rather, God’s acts of creation and the ”healing” of the soul (conversion) became the true miracles of the church. Augustine, in his Homilies on the Gospel of John, stated, “The Samaritans had waited for no sign, they believed simply His word.” Emphasizing faith that does not require miracles, he stated that mature Christians have “believed on Christ through the gospel; we have seen no signs, none do we demand.” Earlier, disgusted with commoners’ use of amulets to cure disease, Augustine stated that we should “rejoice” when someone is sick “tossed about with fever and pains” in hopes that the gospel “placed at the heart” will “heal it from sin.” Sin was the most urgent “disease” facing humanity. The Reformers picked this line of reasoning up.

2) Substitution of the Christological gifts of Isaiah 11 for the 1 Corinthians 12 list: Around the same time, clergy began to teach regularly on the gifts in Isaiah 11:2-3. The Isaiah list (wisdom, understanding, counsel, might, knowledge, piety, and the fear of the Lord) became the standard gift “list” associated with the Christian walk. Though it is difficult to speculate exactly why these gifts were chosen over the 1 Corinthians list, some reasons do come to mind. For one, the Isaiah list prophetically describes the giftings of Christ. The church at this time was highly involved in defining Christology against heretical movements and the Isaiah gifts reflected that concern. Secondly, the gifts in Isaiah had less of a supernatural element to them. Wisdom, for example, has a more natural element to it than say, tongues. Counsel could be gained through interaction with creation – the Augustinian vehicle for God’s self-revelation – as opposed to prophecy which required direct revelation and inner experience. Third, the 1 Corinthians gifts appealed to the direct experience of the individual believer – something most ecclesiastical authorities believed was dangerous, particularly after the Montanism “scare.”

The Isaiah list didn’t replace the 1 Corinthians list overnight. Beginning with the Alexandrian school, spiritual gifts were adapted to accommodate theological beliefs. Origen cited language, wisdom, and knowledge as gifts only available to “worthy receivers.” Ambrose, describing the sacrament of confirmation, emphasized the reception of the “sevenfold gift” – listing the traits of Christ in Isaiah 11. Augustine followed suit. Gregory the Great made this substitution permanent. In his famous Pastoral Rule, Gregory wrote a tremendous amount about love and self-control but steered away from any recognition of the power gifts listed in 1 Corinthians. In his commentary on Job, Gregory explained that the seven gifts act as armor against spiritual attack and other evils. In a homily on Pentecost, Gregory specifically addressed the gifts in 1 Corinthians, but in the postbiblical age, he stated they are considered the gift of the clergy alone. Parishioners would do better to focus on the seven gifts that promote fruitful Christian living rather than power gifts that could possibly lead to pride.

We find the consummation of the allegorical and sevenfold gift traditions in the Reformed tradition. Luther’s German translation of the hymn, Veni Creator Spiritus, while referencing the seven gifts, allegorically interprets the gift of tongues as preaching: “You are with sevenfold gifts/The finger of God’s right hand/You deliver the Father’s Word speedily/With tongues into all the lands.”  These ideas are still reflected in Reformed theology today.

I’ll discuss issues 3 and 4 tomorrow…

“Healing the Desperate”, Part 1

I preached this sermon on March 29th to mixed reviews. There’s nothing like the topic of physical healing to polarize a congregation. I’ll split it up into several posts on the blog but if you are interested in hearing or reading it in its entirety before then, visit www.tfumc.com and go to the sermon section. Unfortunately, the emotional reserve needed to absorb this sermon was immediately swept away afterwards due to a single announcement. Our conference has requested that my senior minister take an appointment in Albany, GA. As part of the “Methodist way” (as I like to call it), she has agreed. Needless to say, people were completely shocked. Who’s coming in? That hasn’t been finalized yet…and that’s part of the adventure I suppose. But I certainly will miss Leigh Ann. I have a learned a tremendous amount from her. Anyway, on the the sermon…

 

Healing the Desperate

Text: Mark 10:46-52 

Today we are continuing our series on the healings of Jesus. Specifically today, we are going to talk about Jesus healing people who were desperate.

I love to read church history. Not for the councils and creeds and such (though that’s certainly important), but for the people you meet along the way. One of my favorite stories from medieval history is the story of Tanchelm. In 1112, local clergy begged for help from Frederick, the archbishop of Cologne, concerning a wandering preacher they called “our Antichrist.” Tanchelm, who was probably a monk, started his ministry calling for stronger Gregorian reform – he then forbade his followers to take the sacraments and urged them not to tithe to the local church. As his popularity grew, he proclaimed his own divinity and thousands flocked to his side. And thisis the pertinent part for today’s message. According to the local clergy, Tanchelm’s followers began to distribute his bath water in small doses and drink it as a sacrament to heal their bodies of disease. Finally, the local clergy had endured all they could stand and devised a plan. They selected a priest who took Tanchelm on a boat ride. At just the right moment, the priest took the oar, smacked Tanchelm upside the head, and pushed him into the water. And that was the end of that. Slightly horrifying…but still a great story from church history. You can’t make that stuff up, people! Personally, stories like this one make me cringe with embarrassment and wonder exactly how Christians can make such “undignified” decisions. It’s like watching a theological train wreck! I think God is up in heaven shaking his head in disbelief. Then, I begin to look beyond their “legacy” to the people behind the actions. That’s when drinking the bathwater of a medieval “David Koresh” begins to make sense. I like how Paul Tillich explains it. He said that fringe groups like Tanchelm’s are “the criticism of the church for the gap between its claim and its reality.”

 Tanchelm’s followers were desperate. “Desperation” is a word that makes us uneasy, specifically when you associate it with something mysterious like our present topic – healing. We like things to be ordered, calm, reserved, dignified, and predictable. We don’t really like “desperate.” It conjures up images of recklessness and threatens our respectability with the possibility that someone might make a scene. What’s worse, they may even make a scene for Jesus! But the gospels are full of examples of people being undignified. Two weeks ago, Leigh Ann talked about a hemorrhaging woman who was willing to risk the ritual impurity of everyone around her to touch Jesus’s clothing. And that story is couched within the frame of Jairus – the biblical version of a modern day city council member or mayor – falling down in the dirt and crying for Jesus to heal his little girl. And the story of Bartimaeus is also great example.

 Talking about healing is really difficult. It makes ministers shake in their boots. And that’s mostly because of the theology involved. When it comes down to it, we must admit that we don’t have a good “theology” of healing. Questions like “Can God heal?” or “Will God heal?” have complex answers. Oftentimes, it’s beyond our grasp. And when we discuss them, we go around and around in circles like a dryer full of clothes at the local Laundromat. That reminds me a lot of my youngest daughter, Annagale. Annagale is a free spirit. We use words like “expressive,” “energetic” and “inspired” to describe her, if you catch my drift. She is always entertaining to be sure. We’ve been working on understanding the Trinity at our house lately, though I don’t think it’s going as well as I hoped. At preschool the other day, the teachers informed me that they were also discussing the Trinity with Annagale’s class. The teacher said, “So, the Trinity is the Father, the Son, and the Holy….” Annagale jumped up and said, “Holy Cow!” So, I suppose everyone’s theology could use a little “tweaking” now and then.

Theology’s Curse, Part 1

I just got back from the Catalyst: One Day conference in Atlanta with Andy Stanley and Craig Groeschel. It was excellent – much more focused on church leadership than the regular Catalyst conference. I even sat three seats away from Perry Noble. Of course, I had to put up with a lot of latte drinking, Abercrombie wearing, faux hawk sporting, twittering “change agents.” It’s funny how every generation thinks they are more “cutting edge” than the last…

I thought I’d post on two issues I struggle with in the theology/ministerial profession – one this post and one the next. The first issue I run into constantly is what I call democratized Christianity/spirituality. Let me explain what that means.

I grew up in a evangelical tradition that emphasized the ability of any lay person to read, digest, and interpret biblical doctrine for themselves. I still completely agree with that concept.  God made sure the Bible (though particular to Eastern culture) could be generally understood by those outside of its original historical context. My upbringing was completely devoid of the “history” of the Bible – to me, it merely spoke in broad generalized themes. I remember sitting in the library my freshman year of college searching the book of Isaiah for verses that specifically meant something to me. I had no idea what Isaiah was really about, but it didn’t matter – God could give me an answer through the revelation of the Holy Spirit. Though that idea was liberating, it lead to some really wrong conclusions. And no one was around challenging me about my “inner revelations.” If they had been around, I wouldn’t have listened. The democratization of Christianity simply means that everyone gets a “vote” as to what a particular passage means, whether they have the expertise to do so or not.

After a lot of study, though I don’t have all the answers by far, I have a fairly good catalogue of information that guides my understanding of a biblical text. But now, as a pastor and somewhat of a theologian, I am on the other side of the democratization of spirituality. People now come to me, not ask for advice about a passage, but to share what God told them about a particular scripture. The interpretation may be completely divorced from the author’s original intent. But that makes little difference. People honestly don’t care to hear my opinion about a particular Bible passage. They already know what it means. And though that hurts my pride a little, unless dangerous for the individual, I do my best to affirm their interpretations. Why? Because outside of a few essential beliefs, most people’s interpretation of a Bible passage isn’t going to hurt anything.

Doctrine police will hate that idea, but their church lineage gave us that predicament. Part of the birth of Protestantism included a theological version of the Renaissance cry: “Back to the Sources!” We would no longer take the word of clergy – we would read the Bible for ourselves and determine what it means! My favorite story about this involves Martin Luther, one of the greatest champions of this idea. Luther was fine with it all until his friend Andreas Karlstadt decided he didn’t agree with Luther’s interpretation anymore. Using the same Bible, Karlstadt interpreted things very differently than his friend – he denounced his academic degrees and went to live on a farm as a peasant! This drove Luther nuts who had declared that Karlstadt should only preach the doctrine Luther had instructed. Luther blasted others with similar inclinations and called them “Schwärmer”: bothersome enthusiasts who don’t listen to reason. In effect, Luther became the clergyman he had been fighting years before, restricting the authority of interpretation he previously taught had belonged to everyone. I love it when ministers squabble…

We do the same thing now: we determine through personal study what we believe the Bible teaches and then begin to systematically govern the right of others to do the same thing. In this way, the “clergy/laity gap” is introduced by lay members as much if not more than ministers.

There’s only one group who struggles with this democratization of information as much as clergy: doctors. WebMD has effectively taken the place of an examination so that many patients come in confidently diagnosing themselves. Of course, the doctors and physician’s assistants I’ve talked to about this want patients to be informed about illnesses. But they also want them to listen to the experts. At least doctors can threaten with physical death and pain or other immediate consequences. Ministers don’t even have that leverage…

Critical People Are Not Credible People

I am so sick of critics.

Between political opinions and religious self-appointed doctrine police, I’ve heard more negativity in the last few months than I can remember. Though I like WordPress, I can’t get over the amount of negative blogs they feature on their front page – as if denigrating and slandering others is meritorious. Our society has conjoined the concepts of criticism and credibility at the hip. We’re not legitimate until we disagree with a Palin or an Obama or a Bentley or a Boltz. To find nothing wrong with someone or something has become a sign of ignorance or presumption. And because of that, we just may be the most opinionated society in the history of humankind. And we’re under the delusion that our opinions are worth something. But really we’re just taking the Western cultural paradigm to the extreme. Being critical does not make you credible. Before you write this post off as someone being critical of critics, let me explain where our “culture of suspicion” originated…

Everyone knows about the Enlightenment and the rise of rationalism as the guiding hermeneutic (to use a theological term) for secularism. Descartes introduced a new paradigm for Western society – one where evidence must be presented for a hypothesis to stand. Leibniz and Spinoza followed behind applying Descartes’ ideas to social and political theory. Empiricists like Hume, though disagreeing with the rationalists on many points, carried their negativity to the extreme in areas of anthropology and religion. Now, Cartesian methodology is fine as a foundation for the scientific method (though some may feel that’s gone too far as well – go read Appleyard’s Understanding the Present to balance what you find in most conventional histories of science), but this Enlightenment ”method of suspicion” guides our approach to everything from politics to religion to media to relationships. After all, where there’s smoke there’s always fire, right? This Enlightenment based approach has also affected our understanding of scripture, specifically in the area of demythologizing the gospels to make them more “accessible” to the modern mind.

As Americans, we are constantly steered toward this critical paradigm. I like what social historian Keith Thomas said about it in regards to our understanding of the supernatural: “Most of those millions of persons who would laugh at the idea of magic and miracles would have trouble explaining why.  They are victims of society’s constant pressure towards intellectual conformity” (emphasis mine). And it’s a more widespread epidemic than just the belief in miracles. At the core of this issue is our inability to trust. Cartesian method quickly moved out of the laboratory and now influences dinner table conversations, news and political opinion, and has decimated our ability to treat people with honor and respect. We feel we need “evidence” to trust anyone. And that’s a very sad thing. That approach to life also eradicates faith – the belief in something beyond our explanation or full understanding. Rather than believing the best about another until proven wrong, we chose to expect the worst, while waiting for the slight chance that someone might actually do the right thing. We value the 10% bad and discard the 90% good about each other.

Here’s the funny thing about all of this: people who adopt this critical approach to life assume that they stand on the bedrock of human understanding. Most humanists I know feel this way. And who knows, maybe they have arrived at the pinnacle of intelligence. But really, the Western Enlightenment paradigm is only about three hundred years old. Rationalist thought didn’t fully permeate Western thought until about 250 years ago. And there were hundreds of paradigms that came before us. Presently. most other world cultures see our modernist suspicion as faddish and a sign of immaturity. After all, people saw things differently before the 1700s. And we now have the corner market on comprehension after 250 years? Is it possible we think too much of ourselves?

The Bible says we should believe the best about each other. That’s hard to do as we attempt to control others by labelling and distorting information to confirm our suspicion of others. I believe that’s called making a mountain out of a molehill. That type of criticism is only a reflection of deeper negativity inside the critic. Critics are unhappy people. Chances are good that a critic spends as much time in personal negative self-talk as they do talking about someone else. The truth is: we’re all okay. Not perfect. But most people have good intentions when not backed into a corner. We can choose not to believe that and let the “hermeneutics of suspicion” guide us. But if we do, we’ll be so busy criticizing the mistakes of others that we’ll miss thousands of chances to witness the good intentions of those around us. And that’s something I personally don’t want to miss.

The Dark Night of the Soul

I have all kinds of search engine hits that lead to various posts on this blog. Some are what you would expect. But probably some of the most common have to do with “the Bible and purging” as in eating disorders and such. Another group of angst-ridden internet searchers are looking for a way to “purge their soul” from sin or something like that. Common searches read something like “spiritual purging” or  ”purge my spirit.” Of course my blog title is meant to be slightly humorous. But these folks are serious. So, I thought that I might give some constructive thought about these searches between times when I have something specific to say.

First off, for all you bulimia nervosa folks, I’m really not qualified to speak to your condition. But I don’t believe that the Bible condones that behavior. Searches like that remind me of my nephew (and some counseling sessions I’ve done). He asks if something is okay usually when he’s already determined that it’s suspicious behavior at best. He already knows the answer – he just wants to hear you say it. And here’s your answer: God wants you to be healthy in every way, including physically. I know God can heal those who have struggled with those issues and been unable to overcome them through conventional therapy. Remember, God loves you and wants you to have the same image of yourself that he has about you: one of complete acceptance and unconditional love. Okay, I’ve said enough about that – certainly more than I’m qualified to say.

When I read the search terms for all the “soul purgers” out there, I’m reminded of a misinterpretation I commonly hear about the “dark night of the soul.” Ever heard of it? It’s part of the mystical process that found it’s full development in the High Middle Ages. And, no, the “dark night” has nothing to do with the movie.

Contemporary pastors commonly describe his stage to help individuals cope with loss or tragedy, usually insinuating that God is allowing this “dark night” to teach lessons of character and patience. I read a devotional email by Chuck Colson that said this exact thing a few years back – I think he used St. John of the Cross. So, it’s a common assumption, even among the best of contemporary Bible teachers. Although this can help people cope with loss by attempting find spiritual meaning in suffering, it really has nothing to with the original mystical use.

The mystic “way” is generally composed of five steps: 1) awakening, 2) purgation, 3) Illumination, 4) “the Dark Night of the Soul”, and 5) union with God. The “dark night” stage follows a stage of illumination where the mystic has experienced the presence of God in an intense, up-close, and life altering way – through vision or ecstatic trance or the like. They often describe some beautiful experience that makes them feel like God was just breathing on the back of their neck. The “dark night” is the time that occurs after that experience has ceased and the mystic must push on in faith towards union without the experience to accompany him or her.

When mystics have written about the grief associated with the “dark night of the soul,” it has nothing to do with external circumstances of loss or tragedy but rather the fact that God’s presence was so close they could feel it. For mystical seekers, nothing could be worse than tasting the presence of God and having it removed for a period of time. Their are distraught over God’s closeness, not his distance.

Now that is way different than having a pastor tell you that unfortunate circumstances in life have some spiritual meaning while God stands off in the distance as you learn life’s lessons. Don’t buy it. The mystics thought the opposite. They wrote from the perspective of one who had felt the closeness of God’s presence in a significant way. Their distress came from the prospect of not being able to saturate themselves in that presence on a daily basis. The “dark night” stage of mysticism echoes the cry of David in Psalm 51, “Do not take your Holy Spirit from me.” After being so close to God, mystics feel they might die without him.

I feel that way sometimes. When I’m in the presence of God worshipping him, I think, “This is home.” But sometimes I go several days before I return to that place of intimate fellowship. How do I know I’m overdue for some serious worship? My heart aches for it. To me, on a much smaller scale, that’s every Christians’ “dark night.” The beautiful thing is, I can jump right back in God’s presence – Jesus made sure of that. Though the mystical understanding of the “dark night of the soul” exists, it doesn’t have to last.

The Prosperity Gospel of the Ages

I grew up on a steady diet of T.V. evangelists. And as a young Christian I adopted much of the “prosperity gospel” or “Word of Faith” message I heard. Now, there’s much within “Word of Faith” that needs correction. A pastor friend of mine wrote about that here. But there’s some good things about it as well. That may be strange for you to hear, since normally people either love the “Word of Faith” message or they think it’s heresy. Sorry, I wish it were that simple. Sure, prosperity preachers say some wacked out things. But they also believe God actually cares about the day-to-day issues of life, like finances and health. And that’s something a lot of their detractors have no answer for. People that say God does a greater work by “healing the soul,” not the body, are completely out of touch with real life. Of course there’s balance – God’s not gonna give you a Mercedes because you confessed it into existence. But neither am I the least bit afraid to say that God does bless people materially and financially.

Most people see the “prosperity gospel” as a new phenomenon – something created in the last 40 years or so. An “Americanized” form of Christianity that hinges upon Western consumerism and greed. And if you merely study contemporary reflections of Christiantiy, you may convince yourself that you are correct. But there are countless examples throughout church history that say otherwise (you can start with historians Keith Thomas, Valerie Flint, and Stephen Wilson for this information). For example, Keith Thomas in Religion and the Decline of Magic, tells the story of a local parishioner who believed his excommunication was ineffective since he had his best crop production the following year. In other words, this guy thought that if God had been angry at him, he would not have received such blessing. Yet his material prosperity stated otherwise. Most Christians throughout history have followed this line of thinking.

Equating material and relational “prosperity” to Christianity is as old as the church itself. This most commonly involved alternative uses of consecrated items found within the church. Parishioners drank holy water as a cure for illness, sprinkled it on their homes, their fields, and on their cattle for protection. Clergy performed exorcisms to make fields fruitful, lit holy candles to protect animals, and spoke curses to drive away vermin, weeds, and crop destroying insects. During communion, parishioners would not swallow the host but hold it in their mouth until they returned to their seat. They then carried the host as an amulet for protection, to cure disease, or sometimes ground it into powder to sprinkle over crops as a charm against caterpillars. Christians also took the blessed palms from Palm Sunday back to their farms where they placed them above their beds, on religious pictures, over doors, or planted them in the fields to ensure good crops. They were also placed in the cradles of babies, used to ward off storms, or weaved into small crosses that the people used as talismans. The practice of making palm crosses was banned in the 1540s, yet people continued these practices to the end of the 1800s. At calendar festivals, animals were blessed by the priest, sprinkled with holy water, and ritually washed or dipped as part of ceremony for health and protection. There are reports of parishioners withholding their tithes from ministers who refused to perform such remedies.

Despite clergy’s efforts to state otherwise, Christians have always believed in a properity gospel. The examples above explain this thinking: though Jesus helped in the afterlife, a cross worn around the neck protected from peril now. Though the Eucharist represented a life of spiritual communion with God, the host could be sprinkled over crops now. Though the blood of Jesus atoned sin, communion wine could heal a sick child now. It shouldn’t surprise anyone to learn that the rise of such practices roughly coincided with the marginalization of spiritual gifts by clergy.

Belief in ”prosperity” did not stop with the Reformation or with the Enlightenment. With Catholic and Protestant clergy condemning their use, people continued to employ alternate methods for physical and financial well-being. In 1594, Lutheran inspectors in Germany reported that “the use of spells is so widespread among the people here that not a man or woman begins…or refrains from doing anything…without employing some particular blessing, incantation, spell, or other such heathenish means…” They did this because clergy gave them no Christian alternative. So, they found substitutes. Documented examples like this exist into the twentieth century.

So, Sam, what are you trying to say? I’m saying that most Christians (until they are taught otherwise) honestly believe that God should be willing to intervene in their daily lives bringing “prosperity” in the forms of material blessing, protection, deliverance, healing, and wealth. Telling them they shouldn’t expect such things has never deterred anyone from seeking God’s blessing. The “Word of Faith” movement is merely a modern manifestation of this. And though some may see such requests for “blessing” beneath them, the majority of Christians throughout history have thought differently. The “prosperity gospel” isn’t new. In fact, wherever you find well-meaning Christians seeking the kindness and generousity of God, you’ll find it. If God cares at all, then he must care about all aspects of our lives.