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Sitting in apocalyptic literature class tonight, topic = the Book of Revelation. Tired of hearing the twins behind me mutter "amen" or "preach it," nice and bright though they are. This text makes total sense in the larger apocalyptic genre, but wow, do I find it a hard sell in the context of the New Testament. The author is writing about a beleaguered community (the new Christian sect) within a beleaguered community (the Jews of post-Temple diaspora) in reaction against the violent and oppressive Roman Empire. The metaphors are pretty plain in that context. Piecing this together eases my mind about the text, but not about the fruit and nuts that write things like the Left Behind series (no, I will not link to it). I do not have an apocalyptic or eschatological bone in my body. Thus, a big gaping hole sits in my theology and symbol set because of that. I've just never cared about what comes next. I am more concerned about what now.
I zone out during class, thinking about my own need for community and my own understanding of what religion means. It's about community and our lived experience of the Divine; it's about the ways and whys we interact with creation and one another; it's about our struggle against "sin and death" as individuals, though only conquering as a people.
I cannot abide the military/warfare obsession in the bible. It only replaces one tyranny with another. Yahweh was a war god, a tribal god, an angry god. How can this god be my god, too? It is completely contrary to my experience and developing theology. Every time I read the bible I want to leave Christianity behind. What does this say about my belief? And yet, I am incapable of doing so. I cannot throw away the symbolism and good parts I do find there, but the bible alone is not enough.
I am obsessed with God. This obsession has shadowed me (lovingly much of the time, but like a stalker at other times) since I was at least 12, maybe even younger. How am I to write theology in such a constant state of turmoil and ambiguity? How do I raise children in a similar state? I need symbol, community, liturgy, a vision of God to link earth, community, life. Paganism lacks a history, a narrative to join. (Neo-paganism as a whole attempts to create this, which in the long run won't be a problem, but for me, now, it is.) Christianity, from which I crib my symbol set, my myth, my vision of Jesus, has a tradition, a theology, a narrative, a past, present, and future.
At breakfast today a fellow student asked me if I felt lucky to have been born in Alaska. I said yes, but that I felt luckier to have been raised there. In some of the more evangelical circles, language such as "god-shaped hole" is used to described some assumed longing in the soul, a longing that only Jesus can solve; he is the key to our rusty lock. I crave a community, with rhythms, seasons, cycles, and boundaries. I think my hole is Alaska sized, and not even god or Jesus or church can fill it, though I am desperately trying.
I zone out during class, thinking about my own need for community and my own understanding of what religion means. It's about community and our lived experience of the Divine; it's about the ways and whys we interact with creation and one another; it's about our struggle against "sin and death" as individuals, though only conquering as a people.
I cannot abide the military/warfare obsession in the bible. It only replaces one tyranny with another. Yahweh was a war god, a tribal god, an angry god. How can this god be my god, too? It is completely contrary to my experience and developing theology. Every time I read the bible I want to leave Christianity behind. What does this say about my belief? And yet, I am incapable of doing so. I cannot throw away the symbolism and good parts I do find there, but the bible alone is not enough.
I am obsessed with God. This obsession has shadowed me (lovingly much of the time, but like a stalker at other times) since I was at least 12, maybe even younger. How am I to write theology in such a constant state of turmoil and ambiguity? How do I raise children in a similar state? I need symbol, community, liturgy, a vision of God to link earth, community, life. Paganism lacks a history, a narrative to join. (Neo-paganism as a whole attempts to create this, which in the long run won't be a problem, but for me, now, it is.) Christianity, from which I crib my symbol set, my myth, my vision of Jesus, has a tradition, a theology, a narrative, a past, present, and future.
At breakfast today a fellow student asked me if I felt lucky to have been born in Alaska. I said yes, but that I felt luckier to have been raised there. In some of the more evangelical circles, language such as "god-shaped hole" is used to described some assumed longing in the soul, a longing that only Jesus can solve; he is the key to our rusty lock. I crave a community, with rhythms, seasons, cycles, and boundaries. I think my hole is Alaska sized, and not even god or Jesus or church can fill it, though I am desperately trying.