What you can do in a river depends significantly on what the current is doing. In a slow-moving river, the danger is limited and one can focus on playing, swimming, fishing, or relaxing. Even novice canoeists, kayakers, and rafters can learn to control and direct their boats around obstacles.
Oh, every once in a while, it is important to check where one is relative to the shoreline, because even the calmest of rivers slowly, but surely, carry their cargo to the sea. Still, returning to where one began is possible if a person has a little persistence and makes small adjustments at regular intervals to move back upstream.
A river with just a slightly stronger current changes the game, though. Only the strongest of swimmers has any hope of even matching the speed of the current, much less moving upstream against it. If the current is flowing a bit faster, only kayaks can be paddled upstream against it. With the kind of whitewater we saw on a recent vacation in Yellowstone National Park, there is ultimately no means of moving upstream against the current in many places. The only option left then, is to navigate with the current.
I love rivers and enjoy the opportunity to raft, canoe, or kayak on them. I also have tremendous respect for their strength and for the danger that strength brings. If you stay within a river under conditions that are at or below your skill level, there can be great fun ahead. Maneuvering around boulders and “strainers” (fallen trees or low-hanging branches) is half the fun. The joy of meeting a challenge is found as you seek out the best parts of the rapids and the places where the current is swiftest.
We often talk about “cultural currents,” drawing from the imagery of rivers. How often, though, do we explore what that metaphor really means? For example, our culture has a broad and gentle current to it, just like the Illinois River near Tahlequah. There are many ways in which the culture sends us in a certain direction, but gently enough that we have the freedom to choose to go against it when that is important to us. The culture is not like a lake, though. It is a body of water with a purpose, a direction, a flow, and when we fail to recognize that, we can also fail to recognize how far it is taking us from where we really wanted to be.
The influence of television is a good example of this. What once reflected values that were often consistent with those of the gospel—though support of racism, chauvinism, and domestic abuse (think of the Honeymooners on the last one)—were certainly exceptions, has changed dramatically over the last several decades. However, because we had already concluded that the “river” of television is not dangerous, we’ve found ourselves lulled into its influence. That influence certainly includes moral decay that is alarming. More subtly, though, is its persistent effort to make us into consumers. From the programming that presents people with better stuff than we have to the advertising that tells us what we “deserve” and “need,” much of what is on television seeks to quietly transform its viewers into people focused on themselves—their wants, their needs, their preferences.
Another example is in sports leagues for kids. These organized activities began as fun opportunities for kids to learn and grow through the teamwork, self-discipline and perseverance that sports teach so well. They reinforced what parents were doing in the home and what was being taught at church and in school. Driven by competition (of the parents, mostly), they have now become a huge industry that threatens to consume the time, energy, and financial resources of any families who dare to register their child in a “competitive” league. We have found that even having three kids in “recreation” leagues for soccer and basketball is quite a challenge. The current of our culture urges us to teach our kids about commitment through sports, ignoring the reality that other—and more important—commitments are often neglected along the way. Going against that current, in the least, challenges us to help our kids learn to choose between competing commitments and determine which ones are the most important.
Our desire to be “successful” in our work can become another current that can have perilous ends. When we put our advancement at work as the main priority, it can lead us to attend too little to our families, to ignore our health, or to agree to do things on the job that are opposed to what Christ would have us to do. Likewise, when we focus on trying to be “successful” in our work of parenting or “grandparenting” the children in our families, we can overindulge our kids or pressure them to become what we wish we had been.
With these examples and many others, what begins as a gentle current can grow in strength, becoming difficult to resist or even navigate in.
Perhaps it’s time to ask probing questions about the cultural currents of our day. What are their sources (and yes, there are many more: political, economic, pop culture, etc.)? Where do they seek to lead us? What are their dangers? What are their benefits?
Also, who can advise or guide me in navigating the stretch of “river” that’s before me? Am I humble enough to recognize that I need guidance at times? These will be the subject of the entry in two weeks.
Grace & Peace,
Dan
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Monday, August 11, 2008
On Proverbs and Presbyterians
The Saints & Ain’ts Sunday School Class has been looking at the Seven Deadly Sins this summer through a curriculum that draws on Gilligan’s Island. That curriculum draws heavily from Proverbs in providing teaching on each of the areas of sin. It raised the question, “Why do some denominations use Proverbs so much more in their teaching and preaching than we do in the Presbyterian Church?” The more I thought about it, the more I realized it was a great insight and an important question.
In scripture (in both Testaments) there are multiple “voices.” In the Old Testament for example, one points to God's covenant with Israel as being unconditionally given by a God who will fulfill his promise to Israel despite its lack of merit whereas the other points a conditional covenant between God and Israel where the obedience of God's people is the necessary condition for God's promises being fulfilled for them. Similarly, Wisdom literature (of which Proverbs is a prime example) points toward our right living leading to wellness for us whereas our disobedience leads to suffering for us. Job and some other Old Testament texts, though, demand to know why the world is not so morally coherent as Wisdom literature suggests. After all, sometimes the righteous suffer and the wicked prosper. What are we to make of that?
We see a similar variety of voices in the New Testament regarding God's grace versus our call to obediently follow Christ. Matthew and James almost make it sound like grace doesn't enter the equation--our obedience is what is necessary. Either we bear fruit, or we are cut off. Either we respond correctly to Christ or we end up in the place where there is "weeping and gnashing of teeth." We're to be not just hearers of the word, but doers.
Paul, having been through a radical conversion to Christ for which he could take no credit at all, credits everything to God's grace. John seems to agree, with Jesus reminding the disciples, “You did not choose me, I chose you.” Luke does, too, with parables about the lost coin, the lost sheep and the lost son and with the story of Zacchaeus.
For Paul, Luke and John, it is almost inconceivable that someone would not respond to such grace with sacrificial obedience. If they don't respond, they must not realize either how unmeriting they are (like the rich young ruler, the Pharisees, and the "Judaizers"--Jewish Christians who demanded the circumcision of Gentile converts) or how good and unconditional God's grace is. Certainly anyone who understood would respond. (I'm over-simplifying here admittedly, but the point—in general—is valid, I believe.)
It seems like the early communities of faith--Jewish and Christian--realized that both of these voices needed to remain in the texts. Similarly, modern physicists will refer to light both as matter (particles) and energy (wavelengths) while still believing that nothing can be both at the same time. They also recognize that Einstein's Theory of General Relativity and Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle both appear to be totally correct until you try to put them together--at which point they become mutually exclusive.
Perhaps our ancestors in the faith were like physicists who long for a "grand unified theory" but who ultimately have to settle for describing two independent realities that come as close to the truth as we can comprehend while also contradicting each other at some level. Perhaps our ancestors of the faith knew enough about human nature to know that if we're to have any hope of staying out of the ditches on either side of the road that leads to life, we need to hear both threat of punishment and unconditional love and grace.
Our Christian brethren who are more drawn to Wisdom literature (like Proverbs) are probably also more drawn to an understanding of God's grace that requires our response to become efficacious for us (and perhaps toward secular politics that emphasize responsibility for one's own actions and well-being?) whereas Presbyterian theology tilts more towards Job, Paul, and unconditional grace (and secular politics that emphasize the responsibility of the community to provide justice for the most vulnerable?) Again, a lot of oversimplifying here, but perhaps an insight as to why we use Proverbs much less than other Christian communities.
Clearly, though, an emphasis on personal responsibility to an extreme can lead to works righteousness for those who think they've made it and despair for those who think they can't. Equally dangerous, an emphasis on unconditional grace can be misconstrued and lead to laziness and presumptiveness (that we're the "pampered darlings of Providence"). It can also fail to recognize and teach that there are many important lessons in the Bible that, if we'll just learn, can save us from a lot of the hardship that comes when we repeatedly shoot ourselves in the foot.
Finally, a similar difference between faith communities can be found in what we name our kids. Think of people you know or have heard of who are over 30 years old and carry names like Amos, Isaiah, Moses, Jeremiah, or just about any other OT prophet. Chances are that they're all black, right? My guess is that the black churches read from those books a lot more than we do in white churches. If you read Amos or think about what Moses was called to do, you’ll quickly see why African-Americans might be particularly drawn to Israel’s prophetic tradition while it might make those of us who are more comfortable with the status quo uneasy.
In seminary, we talked about our "canon within the canon"--a recognition that all of us as Christians tend to focus heavily on some books while quietly avoiding others. The challenge to read them all is a good one. I admit to Proverbs being one of my least favorite books. In part, I like narrative more than lists of advice or rules. Might be a good reason for me to spend more time in Proverbs, though!
Grace & Peace,
Dan
In scripture (in both Testaments) there are multiple “voices.” In the Old Testament for example, one points to God's covenant with Israel as being unconditionally given by a God who will fulfill his promise to Israel despite its lack of merit whereas the other points a conditional covenant between God and Israel where the obedience of God's people is the necessary condition for God's promises being fulfilled for them. Similarly, Wisdom literature (of which Proverbs is a prime example) points toward our right living leading to wellness for us whereas our disobedience leads to suffering for us. Job and some other Old Testament texts, though, demand to know why the world is not so morally coherent as Wisdom literature suggests. After all, sometimes the righteous suffer and the wicked prosper. What are we to make of that?
We see a similar variety of voices in the New Testament regarding God's grace versus our call to obediently follow Christ. Matthew and James almost make it sound like grace doesn't enter the equation--our obedience is what is necessary. Either we bear fruit, or we are cut off. Either we respond correctly to Christ or we end up in the place where there is "weeping and gnashing of teeth." We're to be not just hearers of the word, but doers.
Paul, having been through a radical conversion to Christ for which he could take no credit at all, credits everything to God's grace. John seems to agree, with Jesus reminding the disciples, “You did not choose me, I chose you.” Luke does, too, with parables about the lost coin, the lost sheep and the lost son and with the story of Zacchaeus.
For Paul, Luke and John, it is almost inconceivable that someone would not respond to such grace with sacrificial obedience. If they don't respond, they must not realize either how unmeriting they are (like the rich young ruler, the Pharisees, and the "Judaizers"--Jewish Christians who demanded the circumcision of Gentile converts) or how good and unconditional God's grace is. Certainly anyone who understood would respond. (I'm over-simplifying here admittedly, but the point—in general—is valid, I believe.)
It seems like the early communities of faith--Jewish and Christian--realized that both of these voices needed to remain in the texts. Similarly, modern physicists will refer to light both as matter (particles) and energy (wavelengths) while still believing that nothing can be both at the same time. They also recognize that Einstein's Theory of General Relativity and Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle both appear to be totally correct until you try to put them together--at which point they become mutually exclusive.
Perhaps our ancestors in the faith were like physicists who long for a "grand unified theory" but who ultimately have to settle for describing two independent realities that come as close to the truth as we can comprehend while also contradicting each other at some level. Perhaps our ancestors of the faith knew enough about human nature to know that if we're to have any hope of staying out of the ditches on either side of the road that leads to life, we need to hear both threat of punishment and unconditional love and grace.
Our Christian brethren who are more drawn to Wisdom literature (like Proverbs) are probably also more drawn to an understanding of God's grace that requires our response to become efficacious for us (and perhaps toward secular politics that emphasize responsibility for one's own actions and well-being?) whereas Presbyterian theology tilts more towards Job, Paul, and unconditional grace (and secular politics that emphasize the responsibility of the community to provide justice for the most vulnerable?) Again, a lot of oversimplifying here, but perhaps an insight as to why we use Proverbs much less than other Christian communities.
Clearly, though, an emphasis on personal responsibility to an extreme can lead to works righteousness for those who think they've made it and despair for those who think they can't. Equally dangerous, an emphasis on unconditional grace can be misconstrued and lead to laziness and presumptiveness (that we're the "pampered darlings of Providence"). It can also fail to recognize and teach that there are many important lessons in the Bible that, if we'll just learn, can save us from a lot of the hardship that comes when we repeatedly shoot ourselves in the foot.
Finally, a similar difference between faith communities can be found in what we name our kids. Think of people you know or have heard of who are over 30 years old and carry names like Amos, Isaiah, Moses, Jeremiah, or just about any other OT prophet. Chances are that they're all black, right? My guess is that the black churches read from those books a lot more than we do in white churches. If you read Amos or think about what Moses was called to do, you’ll quickly see why African-Americans might be particularly drawn to Israel’s prophetic tradition while it might make those of us who are more comfortable with the status quo uneasy.
In seminary, we talked about our "canon within the canon"--a recognition that all of us as Christians tend to focus heavily on some books while quietly avoiding others. The challenge to read them all is a good one. I admit to Proverbs being one of my least favorite books. In part, I like narrative more than lists of advice or rules. Might be a good reason for me to spend more time in Proverbs, though!
Grace & Peace,
Dan
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