Jesus for the Non-Religious
by John Shelby Spong
Last weekend Mrs. T invited over a couple of her Japanese girlfriends for lunch. One was married to an American and had a little boy, Bobcat, just a couple of months older than the Acolyte. The other had an American steady. They were all here. As the girls chatted away at the kitchen table and the kids wrestled in the play yard, I was left to entertain two guys who I didn't know very well. I felt compelled to conjure a conversation topic that would interest all three of us. Although all our partners were Japanese, I'm the only one that spent much time over there, so that was off the table. Only one of the guys was a dad, so issues of fatherhood wouldn't be of much interest to the third guy. But I was saved, in part, by a little knick-knack that sits proudly in my living room:
It's a prototype of an All Terrain Armored Transport (AT-AT) walker toy that I received last Christmas from my parents. One of their friends was an executive at Kenner back in the day and he gave this to them to give to me. I love Star Wars, as most American men between the ages of 25-40 do, but I'm not a rabid fan that feels the need to role-play or attend comic conventions. (Though I will admit, I'm anxious to see this summer's release of Fanboys.)
At any rate, my AT-AT caught their attention and they asked me if I was a big fan. I explained that I enjoyed the movies--have the original three episodes memorized like any normal American and have the Star Wars Trivial Pursuit, DVD version-- but otherwise I wouldn't rank myself at "Fan" status. "What about your posters?", one inquired.
"Well, the one that hangs in our den is from an exhibition held at the Smithsonian Air & Space Museum back in 1997-99. I know it reads 1997-1998, but it was extended a few months into 1999. Mrs. T and I went there when we were still engaged....
As for the seven that hang in my office, they're really more of a reflection of my irrational fixation on the defunct fast food franchise, Burger Chef. All seven were distributed by Burger Chef and they're part of my Burger Chef Reliquary."
Then the other guy asked, "Well what about Yoda and that case of vintage figures up in your library?"
"Yoda was a birthday gift from Mrs. T and the figures came with the AT-AT last Christmas."
I made it clear that I could see the threshold of Star Wars fandom, but I had not crossed it. Disappointment set in on the guys. Turns out, one of these guys does actually role-play and has his own homemade costumes. The other guy, while not a fan, thought the idea of costume parties was pretty cool. I can't express the relief I felt. Neither of these guys was going to draw a negative judgment on the fact I had eight Star Wars posters hanging in my house. In fact, it created a sense of camaraderie. I began to relax and we had quite an enjoyable conversation that meandered from one topic to the next. Somehow we ended up talking about the Mormons, we all agreed that most of the Mormons we've known live what they preach. I for one have a deep appreciation for the Mormon faith. I don't let their doctrine bother me much. In my opinion, Jesus appearing in the States is no more fanciful than Moses parting the Red Sea.
Our discussion on Mormons soon expanded to Christianity in general. Turns out, both guys were also committed Christians, and one was even a preacher's kid like myself. Just like yours truly, this guy struggled with maintaining his faith while not wanting to relinquish his faculties of reason and the knowledge humanity has acquired during the two millennia since Jesus strolled the streets of podunk Nazareth. It came as no surprise to me. Us preachers kids have a tendency to doubt and challenge. Tori Amos, whose dad was a Methodist preacher, is a perfect example. We're often raised in an intellectual environment, but then thrown completely irrational doctrine and told to "Trust and Obey." Some folks continue on a life-long struggle seeking a balance between faith and reason. Some conclude that religion and science are two different realms of the human experience and that faith and reason are appropriate in their own realm. Others assume they must choose between one or the other and become completely secular or a fundamentalist. But there is a third alternative. It's a concept that's still in gestation, but already has transformed my approach to the divine.
I should first make a quick disclaimer. This alternative requires that you do some homework. There are some facts that have been taught in Christian seminaries across the world, but don't always make it to the pulpit on Sunday mornings. In the past 200 years, biblical scholarship has generated a tremendous wealth of knowledge about the life, language and influences of the folks living during the formation of the Christian canon and the societies they lived in. A tiny fraction of this knowledge is shared with seminarians during their studies, and often it shakes them to their spiritual core. Why? Because the facts don't always mesh with what they were taught in Sunday School. Seminaries teach future pastors and theologians to question every Sunday School felt board presentation they ever sat through as a child, the very foundation upon which they built their faith. There is nothing new about applying modern scientific approaches to the study of the Bible. There's nothing heretical about it either, seminaries have been doing it for generations. The problem lies in the churches' inability to adapt to this new knowledge and present it to the laity in a way that won't cause a schism.
Thoughtful theologians have worked for years trying to understand the historical, multi-faceted man named Jesus. By that they mean Jesus, the guy, whose followers were so moved in his presence that within a generation they spread across the known world bearing witness. The most current embodiment of this study is conducted by The Jesus Seminar. The seminar is conducted by a host of theologians from various faith backgrounds. Its ecumenical spirit, open-mindedness and transparent process stand in stark contrast to the church councils of old.
I can't begin to address the numerous conclusions recent biblical scholarship has led to here. For one, this post is already too long. But more sincerely, the introduction of this material can be a sensitive matter and is best delivered in a patient and structured manner (two qualities I lack.) Thirdly, someone else has already done so.
In his book, Rescuing the Bible from Fundamentalism, Bishop Jack Spong introduces the layman to what many a seminarian had to face during their studies. This one book captures the essence of first year Old and New Testament classes. I read this years ago and still believe it's one of the best introductions to critical biblical scholarship. I strongly recommend it.
But like I said, it's just an introduction. As comforting and optimistic as his tone may be, when you're done you can't help but feel that he's run your faith through a meat-grinder. The book leaves you begging for direction. Spong admitted recently that at the time he wrote this book, he too struggled with how to proceed. In fact, like I stated above, the church itself is struggling with how to proceed.
Over the past fifteen years I've continued on my spiritual journey, and so has Spong. He's written other books since, but for the most part they were topical, investigating particular sections of the Bible more deeply (similar to advanced courses you'd find in a seminary.) They didn't offer much additional guidance though. Just last month he released a new book entitled Jesus for the Non-Religious. At last, in this book, he moves beyond deconstructing faith and begins to define a way in which Christianity can survive in the 21st century without offending or causing us to deny our post-modern sensibilities.
R.T & Donald Johanson, Houston Museum of Natural Science, 6 Nov 2007.
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