Hitler in Heaven: A Game.

Let’s play a game. This isn’t about truth. This is about us. This is about what kind of God we want. Now, immediately, I expect this reaction: “I don’t want any God but the God that exists. What I want doesn’t matter.”

To use the technical theological word here: bullshit. But don’t miss the point.

When we talk about God, we are talking about something that can’t be proved. (That’s why it’s called faith.) We have deep beliefs about who God is and we have very strong convictions about who that God is. And it is surrounded by ideas about what we believe is good and right and true. And if someone else starts describing God and their idea of God is different, we reject those ideas. We don’t want to believe those things because we believe God is different. Whether it is actually true or just speculation, it is what we want to believe.

So the game. Heaven. The afterlife. I have created four scenarios in a thought experiment that hopefully pulls us out of our comfort zone and pushes our ideas of justice, mercy, and God’s love to the limit. And more than asking what kind of God we want, it asks us what kind of person we are. And want to be. Enjoy!

So here are the scenarios:

1. You get to heaven and you see Osama bin Laden and Hitler. You rejoice that God's grace has no bounds and that nobody is beyond redemption. God's love can save even the most evil and cruel individuals.

2. You get to heaven and you search and search, but there is no Osama bin Laden and no Hitler. You rejoice for justice. They did horrible, terrible things on earth and they pay for their crimes with eternal punishment and separation from their creator.

3. You get to heaven and you see Osama bin Laden and Hitler. You become very angry. How could God forgive them so easily of the horrible things they did on earth and their lack of faith? Where is justice for the innocent people they killed? Where is the God that promises to have vengeance for us (Romans 12:19)? Like the other brother in the Parable of the Prodigal Son, you become angry that God would welcome such horrible souls into heaven with the same people who served God day and night on earth (Luke 15:25-32).

4. You get to heaven and you search and search, but there is no Osama bin Laden and no Hitler. Yet you believe in a mercy so profound that even God's forgiveness certainly can penetrate even the most evil and cruel human souls. You have faith that God's love and mercy can restore all humans, even ones so vile as those two, back to him. Like Abraham did when God planned to destroy Sodom, you beg God to reconcile them back to him and be able to join eternal happiness and communion in heaven (Genesis18:16-33). You know that none are without sin and all deserve death, but the sacrifice of Jesus has reconciled us all to God. If God can overlook my sin, why not theirs?

This is the basic sketch. It becomes even more complex when you don't think about Osama bin Laden and Hitler but think about Gandhi. He was a Hindu. But he was by no means evil. He was good! Is that justice?

Or think about just regular people who try very hard to figure out these very very very complex issues and simply make a decision that might send them to an eternity of punishment. Does that seem just? Do they deserve God's wrath more than Christians who have faith in God but do horrible, terrible things in his name?

Hope you enjoyed.

Tolerance and Intolerance

I recently read a blog by the incorrigible, yet inconveniently popular, Mark Driscoll about tolerance and intolerance. I loathe to give him more publicity but the ideas he writes about are not novel; they are ideas that have made the rounds among conservative church-folk for years. So his iteration is a pretty good springboard.

Let’s just skip right over his semi-male chauvinist introduction. He begins the discussion of tolerance and intolerance with this narrative between himself and Piers Morgan which he uses to identify the problem: Piers Morgan (and the rest of the world) finds Driscoll intolerant because they hold a newer and inferior definition of tolerance than him with his more traditional, prestigious version.

The main difference between the old (good) version of tolerance and the new (bad) version is the foundation of absolute truth. The old version, as he puts it, has an underlying foundation of the belief in an absolute truth that many people dialogue in meaningful ways in order to hopefully arrive together at this truth. The new version, in comparison, denies the existence of some universal truth and therefore finds discussion and dialogue unnecessary and the precursor to prejudices.

He then goes on to posit the extremely tired assertion that the “new” tolerance is actually very intolerant. His example:

“The new tolerance is dreadfully intolerant. Ask average people arguing that every moral view is equally valid and respectable whether they think it’s right for big corporations to destroy the planet, that women at one time could not vote or that people once smoked on airplanes, and see if they are willing to truly welcome, embrace, celebrate and tolerate everyone and everything.
I’m pretty sure if an old guy smoking a cigarette while buying stocks in oil companies and gun makers and bemoaning it was a big mistake to let women learn to read was sitting on a plane next to a feminist on staff with Greenpeace, she would not defend his equally wise and welcomed alternative lifestyle to the flight attendant who was being intolerant for asking him to put out his cigarette.”

So here is how I understand his argument: 1. The new (bad) tolerance doesn’t believe in moral absolutes and finds discussion and dialogue counterproductive; 2. The new tolerance is intolerant by stopping discussion and dialogue; 3. The new version actually DOES believe in moral absolutes, but holds a prejudice against those with whom they disagree.

Well, Mr. Driscoll, which one is it? Is the problem that people don’t believe in moral absolutes anymore or that they believe in universal moral truths but simply won’t tolerate the other side’s viewpoint?

Premise #1 above belies premise #3 but the point he is making isn’t terrible. And my experience has shown similar results. Most people who claim there are no moral absolutes or no universal truths would very quickly backtrack on that assertion when asked about slavery or genocide or rape. Most modern Westerners, liberal or conservative – atheist or Christian – whatever, would assert that it is absolutely (universally) morally wrong to commit genocide or enslave another human being. (However, it is not absolutely wrong to disagree with those assertions.)

The problem, often misconceived by my conservative religious friends is that the modern world has given up on moral absolutes and universal truths. This isn’t true. But something has changed, that is for sure. If you were to ask Martin Luther, or St. Thomas Moore, or Jonathan Edwards to create a list of universal moral truths, that list would be much larger than any modern rendering of the same thing. Perhaps we would find archaic ideas like dancing, drinking alcohol, donating organs, reading non-church approved literature, disagreeing with the Church’s official doctrine, democracy, educating women, etc.

So let’s be honest here. The problem is not that the modern world has given up on moral absolutes. Not at all. In fact, many modern problems are focused on the security of human rights, a cause most modern Americans hold dear (at least in theory). The idea of universal, inherent human rights is, by definition, a moral absolute! No. The problem, here, is that when Mark Driscoll and his ilk roll out their list of moral absolutes and compare it to the list of modern society, their list is much longer. And we reject many things on that list, not only culturally, but in law.

Let’s be more honest. This is really about the fact that conservative Christianity doesn’t like homosexuals. And Muslims. And feminists. And that dislike is veneered with the notion that their god mandates it. Their god not only requires that they, as individuals, not become one of those things, but that they make sure society isn’t a welcoming place for those ideas and those people. They can’t “condone” that behavior. They can’t accept it. They can’t tolerate it because it ought not exist.

And liberals who find virtue in tolerance should be honest. We feel the same way about bigotry. Racism ought not exist. Nor misogyny. Homophobia too. And a myriad other things.

But another main problem with Driscoll’s characterization of tolerance/intolerance is his naivety and complete lack of insight into his own imperfection and frailty. I agree, one of the benefits of lively discussion and dialogue with people who believe differently than we do is a mutual respect for the journey to find moral truth. But that isn’t the only benefit. The other, and perhaps, most important goal is to find ourselves in that other person. To hear the reasons, and understand that different people do exactly what we are doing, trying to find meaning and truth and good even as they arrive at a different answer.

But, we will never know in this life whether what we believe is absolutely true and universally good. The problem today is not that the modern person doesn’t believe in absolute truths, it’s that we don’t believe we can absolutely know if our beliefs are absolutely true. As Paul puts it, it’s like looking in a dim mirror; we only know in part even if one day we will know fully. We want to give as much room for everyone to wrestle with the ideas of morality and goodness as possible without giving them license to injure or hinder another. This requires humility and some modicum of restraint.

So the problem with the conservative Christian moral agenda is not that modern sensibilities disagree with it. By all means, continue believing those things. Let’s talk about them. Let’s talk through them. Help me understand why you believe them and I will do my best to explain why I believe what I believe. But when that speech becomes hurtful, and more importantly, attempts to quarter out a group of our free population to be treated differently – less free, well that just won’t work.

How many times, as kids did we try and use this line: “Hey Dave! You’re ugly and you smell.” “Shut up, Thomas.” “No. It’s a free country.”

That line never worked. Yes. It is free. We are free to say and think what we want. But that doesn’t mean we are free to be jerks. And it doesn’t mean we get to ruin other people’s life with our freedom. That just won’t do.

The Not-So-Great Commission

(This is an old post I wrote when I was an undergraduate. Since then, plenty of my beliefs have changed and evolved, but I still like this piece. Enjoy.)

The Not-So-Great Commission

I have a tiny 4 X 6 Bible. It is black in color.

When you flip through it and look, you will find large numbers signifying "chapters" and smaller numbers signifying "verses." You will also find that apart from these divisions, specific pieces of the text are grouped together under a subtitle in italics. All of these things were not original to the author. They are inventions of whatever company printed my particular Bible.

If you look at Matthew 28:16, most likely, your Bible's subtitle, as well as mine, will read The Great Commission. Now, I don't know who called his words in verses 18-20 the "Great Commission" first, but it wasn't Jesus. In fact, in this specific piece of the text, neither the word "great" nor "commission" are even mentioned. Not by Jesus. Not by the author.
Yet we call it the "Great Commission."

This might not mean much to some people. This might mean the world to others. "So what? We call it that. Big deal." "Of course we call it the 'Great Commission!' This is our holy purpose given by Jesus, for us to go out and make disciples!"

There are several reasons why I think we cling so tightly to Jesus' last recorded words by Matthew and place them on a "Great" pedestal.

1. These words do seem to be a "commission" from Jesus. They are filled with actions words (go, make, baptizing, teaching). By all means, if one was to read Matthew alone, it would appear that these are Jesus' last words, and perhaps even the words he wanted to leave last on the minds of the disciples as they began to build the church on earth.

2. The action asked from Jesus is relatively easy. Meaning, it doesn't ask us for much sacrifice. I know some people would split wide open if they read this, so let me explain. Essentially, this verse has been interpreted as a call to convert. Ever since around the 4th century, doctrine has trumped all other issues determining the definition of a "Christian" and the righteousness of personal piety. As human beings, we tend to congregate and socialize with people that we agree with. This is a widely known and uncontested truth. Basically, we hang out with people like ourselves (Jesus acknowledges this truth in Luke 14:12). The idea of our modern idea of "discipleship" is that we envision converting people to our particular interpretation of the gospel. We teach them our doctrine, essentially creating people that are like us. This, to a bigger scale, creates a church or community that is filled with people like ourselves. The reason why this commission is easy is because it asks us to do something we tend to do normally, that is, congregate around people like ourselves, and change the ones that are not like us to be like us. We do it normally, therefore, it is not really all that sacrificial.

3. We have been seeped in tradition and teaching that tells us that those words are the "Great Commission" and we have had no reason to think of them otherwise.

With all that said, I want to issue a challenge to the greatness of this commission. Let me re-phrase that. I think it is great. I just don't think it is any more great that any of the other great things he said.

Except for the "Great Commandment."

You see, we have dubbed Matthew's commission as great, but both Matthew and Jesus didn't. In fact, if we look at the other gospels, we don't even really see another commission. Mark ends his gospel without even showing Jesus. In fact, the last words of the gospel are about how afraid the women at the tomb are. The gospel of John ends with Jesus rebuking Peter for questioning his decision to not have John martyred. Luke ends his gospel with Jesus telling the disciples to stay in the city. Not exactly a "great commission," huh?

The closest thing we find to the great commission of Matthew is found in Acts, written by Luke. But in Acts, the language is much different. Instead of the commission to go and make disciples, he tells them that the Holy Spirit will come to them and give them power. And they will be witnesses. See, the funny thing here is, the Greek word for witnesses is "martus," which just so happens to be the same word for "martyr." So, essentially, what he tells them is they will be given great power by the Holy Spirit to travel all over the world and die. I don't know, but if I were one of his disciples, I don't think that would sound so great. (Rereading this, I realize I was being a bit dramatic for persuasiveness' sake. I think the word "martus" has more to do with how we live then how we die. This does not, however, negate my point. Jesus commissioning his followers to live in a way that results in either their physical death or putting their personal agendas, lifestyle, comforts, etc. to a metaphorical death isn't exactly the feel good message that people want to label "great". Also, I think Jesus is telling them to put their agenda's to rest. This exchange is loaded with political undercurrents.)

Yet, in the three Synoptic Gospels (Matthew, Mark, Luke), we have this one story that centers around a question posed to Jesus about importance or greatness. According to Mark (12:28-34), a Pharisee or Scribe came to Jesus and asked him what the most important commandment was. Jesus replies with the familiar "shema", Love the LORD your God will all you heart/soul/mind/strength (Dt. 6), and to love your neighbor as yourself (Lev. 19:18). What is so cool is that after Jesus says the two, he says, "There is no commandment greater than these" (v.31b).

Wow. It is as if to say, "No matter what you read, see, think, or hear beyond this point, these are the most important or greatest commandments ever recorded in history."(Again, perhaps a bit hyperbolic for persuasiveness' sake. Jesus' words speak well enough on their own, I think, and really don't need another interpretation from me.)

See, John didn't include this conversation in his gospel though. But what is cool is that he includes something else that Jesus said that is like this that the other gospels didn't include (this seems to be a trend John has - writing about the things the Synoptic authors left out). In John's account (13:34-35), Jesus says, "A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another."

The context is cool for this part in John. Jesus is talking to his followers, specifically the twelve he called, and he is telling them that he is leaving. He is going to go away from them. Then he lays that new command down on them. It is like he is saying, "You have followed me, but now I am going away. When I leave, this is what I want you to do: Love each other like I love you." This is a commission. I will repeat that because you probably read it and missed its importance. This is a commission. He is saying, "I am going away, and the job I leave for you is to love."

So in three gospels, we have Jesus saying the greatest thing is for us to love God and love people. Then, in the last gospel, we have Jesus saying that he wants us to love people the same way God loves us. (This is of course assuming Trinitarian dogma. If you don't, then “love people the same way Jesus loves us.”)

So, how did we get so mixed up? See, all three of these commandments are united under a common theme. Love. Love. He doesn't say anything about doctrine or believing a certain thing or who's right and who's wrong. He doesn't even say anything about teaching anything to anyone else. He just simply says to love. And in doing so, he defines discipleship for us. He says that if we love the way he loves, then we are his disciples and everyone will know it. Not if we graduate from a class, or go through a four-step plan of discipleship. Not if we believe all the correct doctrine and condemn all the heresies. Not even if we know how to defend all our beliefs with hard evidence. But if we love like he did.

Without that definition, we can't even understand the "Great Commission." When he says, "Go and make disciples," he is saying to go and love people like I have loved you until they learn to love other people the way I love them. "Return the favor." In a pop culture language, "Pay it forward."

So again, I say, how did we get so mixed up? According to Jesus' definition of discipleship, I know some Buddhists that are better disciples of Jesus than Christians. I know some people that don't even believe Jesus existed that are better disciples of Jesus than Christians. How did we get so mixed up?

With that, may we stop converting and creating people like ourselves. May we stop cultivating a religion based on doctrine and correct beliefs. May we stop shrinking the gospel message to a pamphlet of orthodox faith created by a small group of modern thinkers. Instead, may we allow Jesus to tell us what is "Great" and then follow that commission without a second glance back. May we understand that love wins and is the greatest and most important thing for us to do. May we turn the hearts of nations back to God by the way we love our neighbors just as God loved us. May we simply love first. May we love like it is the greatest thing for us to do. May we love like Jesus commanded us to. May we become authentic disciples of Jesus, and in turn learn to make disciples in every corner of the earth because we loved them.