Eschatos (for now)

Having concluded the gospel of John, I spent some time considering what to tackle next. The decision was difficult. Continuing with the second third of Isaiah would make a lot of sense, considering that so many believers mistakenly conclude that the book is about Jesus. (The "servant" in the book is more likely an idealized, emotionally mature person in the midst of an anxious society.) The letters of Paul, taken in any sequence, would be useful perhaps, since many of the Christianities that exist today are based more on Paul's flawed thinking than on any of the Christ narratives. Especially with regard to judging people who seem different, Christians frequently rely on the words of Paul to condemn others and spread fear.

However, even these compelling possibilities seem uninspiring, at least for now. Thus, the title "Eschatos" -- last things, endings. I have accomplished several things that I set out to demonstrate when I began this exercise. First, I have shown that meaning can be derived from a text without assuming the historical accuracy of the story in the text. Second, I have shown how one might discard harmful assertions from "sacred" texts in order to bring one's beliefs into alignment with one's deepest values. Third, and perhaps most importantly, I have consistently reflected an atheist/Humanist philosophy that holds human beings in high regard and forms a credible foundation for ethical and moral behavior. I have freely interpreted the text through a lens of my own choosing, as every interpreter does, such that the Bible was brought into alignment with the guiding principle that every person has inherent worth and dignity.

It should be noted that some of the text had to be dismissed or refuted in order to do this. This is because the Bible is a flawed document written by imperfect human beings who often didn't know what to do with their anxiety and fear. Yet, I don't really think anything I have written here will convince someone to read things with an open mind if they're prone to believe in a literal translation of the text. And those who are willing to read things with an open mind don't need my encouragement to do so. In any case, I don't need to continue with this particular project in order to demonstrate how you might first clarify your own guiding principles, and then read whatever text you choose to read with an eye toward deepening your integrity and aligning more intentionally with your deepest, most noble self.

I originally chose the Bible because it's such a strong influence in Western culture, much more so than Buddhist writings, for instance, which might more easily line up with my Humanist assertions. Recently, though, I've been saddened by how flippantly some believers use biblical texts as weapons to harm others. The ideas of bigotry and fear, practices of injustice and hatred, even acts of profound dishonesty and abuse are sanctified by words from this collection of texts that ought have no more importance than any other ancient document.

It is clear that a significant portion of the population interprets the words of the Bible as license to not learn how to think critically, as permission not to develop into fully human vessels of love and light that create wholeness. I find that I am repulsed by words that attribute human worth to the benevolence of a supernatural, not least of all because that imagined supernatural is also used to disguise hate as virtue and fear as righteous indignation. Where I may once have easily interpreted Humanist ideals out of a theistic text, I now find it abhorrent to in any way legitimize words that so many believers use to justify lazy, narrow-minded thinking that keeps people from wholeness rather than fueling a journey toward wholeness.

The idea that there is a supernatural who guards and guides human life is simply wrong. Abdicating one's personal responsibility to the will of an imaginary god is simply irresponsible. Human beings do not derive worth from anything outside of themselves, and they do not need to be cleansed or redeemed by a mystical sacrifice. Human beings have inherent worth and dignity. This means that there is nothing a person needs to do to earn the status of being enough. And there is nothing that can take human worth away from anybody.

Human beings are still flawed. We still give in to our anxiety, and we let our fear make decisions for us. An even more flawed mythology isn't going to help us deal with these issues. What we need is to take responsibility for our own part in the greater system of humanity. Human beings are capable of growing in their emotional maturity. Human beings are capable of developing integrity. Human beings are capable of doing the work of creating wholeness in their lives and in the lives of others. And we don't need a god to do these things. And we don't need a sacred book.

Sacred books and gods are convenient, it's true. But they are also easily abused without dispute. Legitimizing belief in a god for the sake of empowering people to do good things in the world unfortunately opens the door for belief in a god to empower people to feel justified in hatred, fear, and violence. As a species, for the last two thousand years, we have failed to teach people to use their myths properly. Thus, it is better to work to discard the myths and replace them with something more useful and better suited to the task of human development.

There are some tools that are necessary to do a certain job, even though they could be dangerous. We keep those tools around because they are useful, and we take precautions that they are used and kept in a way that maintains a level of safety. It would be irresponsible to do otherwise. Belief in a god is not a necessary tool. For the creation of wholeness, for developing greater integrity, for recognizing the inherent worth and dignity of every person, for growing in emotional maturity, belief in a god is unnecessary. More importantly, belief in a god frequently keeps people from creating wholeness, developing integrity, recognizing human worth, and growing in emotional maturity. When a tool is unnecessary and dangerous, the responsible thing to do is to throw it out.

You can say, "Those people don't believe in the god I believe in. The god I believe in is wonderful." That's nice. You don't need it. If you want the luxury of keeping a tool around because you find it convenient, despite the harmful things so many people do with that tool, I believe it is your responsibility to teach people how to use that tool properly. If you want to hang on to your supernatural, it is not alright that you stand by and watch people do abusive, hateful, fear-driven things in the name of your supernatural. You are responsible for how you allow others to use your tools. If you want belief in a god to remain in public usage, you are responsible for speaking out boldly for what kind of god you're willing for that to be. The people I hear speaking out boldly for their god are only saying things that reflect their fears and anxieties veiled in religiosity.

For me, belief in a god is unnecessary, and sacred texts are unnecessary. These things are too dangerous for me to continue accepting and legitimizing them. Accepting the premise of the importance of the Bible has become a distraction from delighting in life and creating wholeness. I'm grateful for your attention as a reader, and I hope that my words have been meaningful to you thus far. My hope for you is that you find ways to deepen your own connection to your deepest most noble self in everything that you read, and that you continually recognize the truth, beauty, and creativity within you. Live into a best possible version of yourself, and the result will be a better world.

John 18-19: External Challenges to Internal Integrity

Once again, we might find ourselves relating to various characters in the next portion of the passion narrative in the gospel of John, in which the characters of Jesus and Pontius Pilate interact. This passage is very dramatic and weaves a compelling tale, and although we have noted this time and again, it bears repeating once more that there are no transcripts of a conversation between Jesus and Pilate. The dialogue here is creative license on the part of the author.

We do have a bit of evidence that Pontius Pilate was an actual historical figure (more evidence than we have that Jesus was an actual historical figure, to be frank), but at this time there is no authentic artifact reflecting what the historical Pontius Pilate thought of a historical Jesus, or even that the two interacted at all. What we know of Pilate, however, is that he became increasingly unwilling to bend to the will of Jewish mobs, preferring to have soldiers kill unruly crowds of locals who disagreed with his decisions. The pleading, reluctant procurator depicted in the gospel of John might therefore be a bit of wishful thinking on the part of the author, or this depiction may have been an effort to avoid persecution from Rome, or it may have been to heap the full weight of blame on the Jewish religious leaders in the story. No one can say with certainty what the author was thinking, but we can at least be sure that the image of Pontius Pilate here is not a full picture of the man's behavior in historical reality.

Since we cannot know the full intention of the author, we might as well see what we can draw from the story for ourselves. Can the figure of Jesus still serve as the depiction of an idealized us? Is there something else for us in this passage? As we have observed, the passion story is a central element to most Christianities, but the themes and metaphors of the narrative are present in the tales of many religions and mythologies. Here, strength takes on a distinct quality when anxiety and fear are not the driving forces behind a person's decisions and behavior. The Jesus character might represent to us a self-awareness that goes beyond self-preservation -- a commitment to one's identity and principles that matters more than personal safety.

We plan much of what we do based on the risks involved. Do I say this difficult thing, if it might provoke a reaction I don't like? Is my authenticity worth facing rejection? Are my principles worth dealing with hostility? Are my needs important enough for me to be vulnerable and say them out loud to another human being? Often, our answers are No. We decide that our deepest values are not worth the risks we might face -- that we are not worth the risks we might face -- if we live with authenticity. Our integrity winds up being less important than our sense of personal safety and acceptance.

The passion story may not serve as much encouragement for us to do otherwise. After all, the character who represents us in the story winds up suffering more than we ever want to. The lesson is not that our authenticity will get us crucified, however. The complete perspective of the lesson, as we will acknowledge in the weeks ahead, is that our authenticity leads to being fully alive -- more alive than we can be when we play it safe and act based on a fear for our own safety. Fear and anxiety limit us from being fully alive in our relationships and in our actions.

Impulsive, "honest" words and behavior are not really much better. Just saying or doing the next impulsive thing that crosses our mind doesn't lead to a fully alive life. In fact, most of our impulses are still going to be driven by fear. That's just the way our minds work. The goal is to be intentional and to have integrity between our actions and what we care about most deeply. In the story, then, we see an example of a person who knows themselves so fully that there is no place for fear to drive their behavior.

You might also notice that the Jesus character doesn't insult or provoke Pilate in the dialogue. He states clearly that his purpose as a leader has nothing to do with political power (contrary to what those who claim to follow him have done with his legacy). He clarifies that he is interested in truth, unadulterated and untainted by fear. He suffers torture and abuses at the hands of those who are less emotionally mature, and even in the midst of that profound pain, he doesn't give himself over to anxiety and fear. His integrity is not just about his internal state of being, it has ramifications for how he relates to the people around him.

The author does have Jesus say something interesting, to pursue a theological rabbit trail for just a moment. The last words the Jesus character speaks to Pilate here are, "You would have no power over me unless it had been given to you from above; therefore the one who handed me over to you is guilty of a greater sin." The gist of the argument here seems to be: (1) God authorizes people in their positions of power, therefore (2) people are not culpable for exercising that authorized power, and yet (3) those who interpret their power based on biblical principles from the Hebrew scriptures are more guilty than political leaders who use their positions of power to do harm. There is no way around the conclusion that God authorizes people to do harm to others (which is really nothing new from the Old Testament), nor is there any way around the idea that those who do not use their power ethically are guilty of "sin." If the same rules apply to God, then, the only logical conclusion from this theological statement is that God is guilty of the greatest sin, authorizing harm and failing to use power ethically. Of course, none of that really matters if God is a fictional supernatural, but these theological diversions are sometimes intriguing.

What can we say about the Jewish leaders and Pilate in this story? Do we find ourselves in these characters as well? Certainly, the Jewish leaders continue to be caught up in their fear. When a more rational voice tries again and again to offer a more reasonable course of action, they dig in their heels. There are all sorts of fears that could have been fueling their drivenness. At the same time, they are anxious to be technically clean even though there is nothing life-affirming about their behavior. They want to maintain an appearance of being beyond reproach by abdicating the harmful action to someone else. They do not want ownership of their decision, but they are committed to getting what they think they want.

In many cases, we still attempt to use the government in this way. We don't want to be responsible for making the changes we think are necessary, but we want someone to be responsible on our behalf. We don't want to be culpable for the harm that is done to others, but we are strangely comfortable with other people being harmed so that we feel safer. All the while, our own anxiety continues to soar, and our integrity is practically nonexistent. The two operate at inverse proportions. When we are committed to greater integrity and intentionality, our anxiety necessarily shifts to lower priority -- we cannot serve our fear and our deepest values at the same time. The question is whether we will be intentional about which we are serving or whether we will let our fear drive us as the Jewish leaders of this story are unequivocally driven.

Pilate, as he is characterized by the author, seems to be aware of what his values dictate and yet is still unwilling to take responsibility for living with integrity to those values. Where the Jewish leaders have completely lost touch with their deepest, most noble selves, Pilate seems to engage in sincere wrestling between his authentic, life-affirming values and the safety of pleasing other anxious people. (Again, this is a literary fictional character we're talking about and not the actual historical Pontius Pilate.) If his integrity were simply a matter of being internally aligned with deep guiding principles, he would seem to be on track. When his integrity requires managing himself in relationship to other people, however, he faces difficulty. The bizarre picture here is of a person with the greatest amount of authority and legitimate power bows to the most anxious voices in the room, because life-affirming values were given less priority than fear of the consequences of disappointing the least emotionally mature people involved.

This is clearly a picture to which we can relate. We like it when we are the most anxious voices in the room because it feels powerful to get our way. Screaming at someone until we get what we want can feel very vindicating, as long as we get what we think we want. Outrage and indignation seem to be preferred methods for people to force others to bend to their will. These are all fear-driven behaviors, however, and thus they cannot be reflective of our deepest, most noble selves. Whatever life-affirming values you think you have, these go out the window when you choose outrage and hostility as weapons of coercion.

When we fail to exercise our authority in the midst of hostility and coercion, however, we fail everyone in the scenario. Just as the Pilate character in this story, we can become so focused on making angry people go away and stop threatening us that we forget ourselves. We forget that what we care about most is not that every outraged person is mollified. We lose sight of our deepest principles because it seems risky to live with integrity to them when people are screaming at us. We become more interested in defending ourselves and being safe than we are interested in integrity.

We could spend eons peeling back the layers of Pilate's deceptively simply musing, "What is truth?" He is in the midst of an internal conflict, as we all most likely are. The Jesus character seems to know truth, however, and he is apparently calm in the midst of the chaos around him. We might assume that he experienced some internal conflict, especially as he was experiencing the pain inflicted on him. Perhaps he called himself names, as we so often do. Stubborn Fool. Idiot. Masochist. The end result, though, is that the truth he knows is more powerful than the suffering he experiences. The truth he knows is worth his integrity, and while some people assume that this truth has something to do with a supernatural, we will see next week that there is another, more useful possibility for us.

Today's passage shows us three possible points on a spectrum. The Jewish leaders are so driven by fear that they are completely unaware of their deepest life-affirming values. Pontius Pilate is aware of his deepest life-affirming values, and he tries to make them important; he foregoes integrity in the face of anxious aggression, however, and loses himself in order to appease other people. Jesus is not only aware of his deepest life-affirming values, he is unwavering in his integrity, making the moment-by-moment intentional decision to live according to the guidance of his deepest, most noble self rather than living according to other people's anxiety, even though he experiences some pain as a result.

Where are you on that spectrum? Are you aware of your deepest values? Do you place them as a higher priority than your anxiety? Do you find artificial power in using outrage and coercion to alleviate your fear in the moment? Are you prone to give in to other people's anxious demands rather than exercising your personal authority to live with integrity? Or do you live by a standard of authentic power and intention that reflects a vision of a best possible version of yourself?

Wherever you place yourself on that spectrum today, where do you want to be? When you consider what leads to long-term well-being for yourself and the people around you, in what direction would you like to move? If you want a more deeply satisfying experience of life, what will you need to do to move toward that? And what little step are you willing to take today to move in that direction?

John 18: The People Fear Makes

We arrive now at the story that all four biblical gospels hold in common, the arrest and execution of Jesus. The version of the story in the gospel of John has some distinctions from the other texts, which is perhaps striking, since it was apparently written after the other three texts were in circulation. (It could also be said that we have no idea what the original versions of any of these texts contained or omitted because the earliest complete copy we have of any of the gospels is from the third or fourth century.) For whatever reason, the author of John told a slightly different "passion story," so we can take a look and see if there is anything of value in those distinctions as we seek value in the story as it is.

The scene shifts to an unnamed garden across the Kidron Valley. The author of Mark indicates that this garden was named Gethsemane, and the author of Matthew copies him. The author of Luke places the scene at the Mount of Olives. The author of John leaves the place unnamed. He also leaves out the embarrassing story about the disciples falling asleep while Jesus was in distress. In the gospel of John, there is no scene of pleading with God. It just seems to be the meeting place where Judas will bring guards. We also don't see any betrayal with a kiss, as the other gospel stories include, Judas is simply a guide for the guards and police. The author of John does include the bit where Peter slices off the ear of one of the guards -- a detail that is in every biblical version of the story, although Peter and the guard are only identified by name in the gospel of John. In this version, however, Jesus does not heal the injured man.

Once Jesus is arrested, two events are described as occurring simultaneously by all four gospel authors, although the events are not described consistently among them. Jesus is put on trial by the Jewish high priest -- a sort of religious court martial that seems to operate under different rules than one would expect from a legal proceeding. Obvious and contradictory false charges are leveled, and Jesus' words are interpreted to be evidence that he is guilty of blasphemy, an offense punishable by death according to Jewish law. (We have previously observed that a great many offenses carried a death penalty in the Hebrew Scriptures.) Interestingly, blasphemy seems not to have been a crime according to the Roman government, but the Jewish authorities didn't have the power to carry out a legal execution under Roman rule, so the religious leaders twist the story further in order to prompt Pontius Pilate, the local governing Roman authority, to pay attention to the case.

As all of this is going on, Peter, one of the disciples closest to Jesus, is questioned three times about his connection to Jesus, and he lies about their relationship all three times. Dramatically, the rooster announces dawn as Peter utters his third denial. In all four of the gospel narratives, Jesus predicts that Peter will deny their relationship three times and then the rooster will crow. Although the wording is slightly different in all four gospels, of course Jesus' prediction comes to pass in an appropriately dramatic fashion. As we will see later on, only the gospel of John takes steps to "redeem" Peter with a similarly dramatic epilogue.

Although we've acknowledged it many times, it bears repeating that any dialogue in the gospel narratives is creative license on the part of the authors. Even if the events described actually took place at some point, there were no recording devices and no transcriptions of conversations. Especially with the number of years that would have passed between historical events and the authoring of the gospel stories, there is no point in getting hung up on the actual words spoken by anyone in the story except to consider what the author was trying to get across. The author is creating a drama and chooses words that heighten that drama and convey certain qualities of the characters in that drama.

Where are we in this drama? This is a particularly low point for many characters in the story, and we might identify with various groups when we are at our most anxious and reactive.

There is Judas, who plays little role dramatically except for impotently following through with a course of action because he's started down that road. He could have thought things through at any point and decided that the eventual outcome of his actions would lead to another person's unjust execution. There would likely still have been consequences to his actions, but he could have altered his course at any point. That he didn't change direction suggests that he was in the thrall of his own fear and anxiety. He could have been driven by anger at Jesus or his cult. He could have been driven by fear that powerful people would eventually catch up to them, and he wanted to end up on the surviving side of that conflict. It doesn't really matter what the fear was that propelled him forward. The bottom line is that he never stopped to connect his actions with his deepest, life-affirming values as a human being. He allowed his fear to run him, and he went into autopilot mode.

Then we have the police and guards loyal to the religious authorities. They are, of course, just following orders. This can be a convenient excuse, or it can reflect a level of trust for the existing power structure. These people probably had little opportunity to evaluate the situation and think things through for themselves. They knew only what they were told.

The disciples, on the other hand, supposedly had plenty of reason to trust the example they had seen lived out in the life of their teacher. The author frames the flight of the disciples as all part of the plan, but wouldn't emotionally mature, principled individuals remain calm and accept the consequences of their choices rather than running off into the night? Or drawing steel and attacking? They are the very epitome of fight or flight reaction in this scene. As things progress, Peter even resists multiple opportunities to authentically express his convictions, presumably due to fear of hostile reactions from the people around him. The disciples literally figuratively hide themselves away.

Whether we choose to see them as the villains of the story or just human beings who felt threatened, the religious leaders demonstrate another anxious reaction. They are unwilling to consider a challenging perspective because they are already convinced that they know all they need to know. They are comfortable enough with things the way they are that they don't have a compelling reason to consider a different way of being. They respond with lies and violence to a perceived threat to their comfort, compromising their principles (and their religious laws) in order to preserve a sense of security and familiarity. They misuse their authority and power because they are insecure in their authority and power.

And why shouldn't they be insecure? The Roman government was already making exceptions and bending its own policies in order to appease the Jewish people, and still there was one uprising after the next. "Messiahs" came along pretty regularly and raised militias to fight futile battles against the Romans. The ease with which Jewish rabbles were roused to violence eventually provoked Roman officials to order the destruction of the Jerusalem temple and scatter the Jewish people throughout the empire so they couldn't wreak more havoc. The religious authorities, comfortable in their relationship with the Roman officials, must have seen this possibility on the horizon. Anyone in their position would feel anxious. Their response to anxiety, however, was to forget themselves and their values in order to make a problem go away.

Finally, there is the Jesus character. While there are some aspects of the Jesus legend that kick in with the passion narrative, up until this point we have taken the gospel of John's portrayal of Jesus as an example for what it is to be a fully alive human being. Continuing in that perspective, Jesus maintains his own sense of personal authority and self-differentiation throughout the scene. The author of John likes to play with the language of having Jesus say "I am," since that is the translation of the name of the god of the Hebrew scriptures. The Jesus character speaks and embodies this sense of self so fully that the people who come to arrest him are taken aback. He speaks openly and directly to his accusers, perhaps with a bit of an edge to his tone as the author of John depicts it. We don't see any sign of a flight or flight or freeze instinct driving Jesus' behavior. He maintains his sense of self in the midst of the rampant anxiety around him, even though that leads toward devastating consequences.

We can probably recall points in our lives in which our anxious responses looked like several members of the cast in this drama. We have continued to follow courses of action despite realizing that they were in conflict with our deepest values. We have remained ignorant of situations in order to limit our responsibility. We have run away from challenging situations, literally or figuratively, and hidden our true selves safely out of sight. We have become so driven about a goal that we stopped caring whether our means of reaching that goal had integrity. Hopefully, we also can find moments when we have calmly and confidently stood in the midst of chaos and maintained our sense of self. If not, it is certainly a target we can move toward.

It may not seem like it when we are driven or fear-filled, but we always have choices. We might be headed down a path that is completely contrary to what we really want to stand for, but we don't have to continue down a road just because we took a step in a particular direction. How often do people change careers or employers, change relationships, change diets and exercise patterns? We are wonderfully capable of change. The moment we realize that we are headed off course from where we really want our lives to lead, we have the opportunity to change direction. There may be consequences, and it may not be the easiest thing to do, but change is possible.

Likewise, we have choices about how we take responsibility for our role in things. It's easy to exonerate the guards in this story perhaps. They really had no way of knowing anything different than what they were told. In our lives, we are told a lot of things. We know enough to recognize that everything we are told is filtered through someone's biases. At least some of what we are told is patently not true. We can find some comfort in remembering that we can only act on what we know, even though what we know is sometimes inaccurate. However, it's also our responsibility to test what we think we know -- to verify the information we receive as much as possible -- so that we can continue to act with integrity to our deepest values as much as possible.

There are times, though, when that feels like more trouble than it's worth. Maintaining integrity to our guiding principles in the face of hostility may be the hardest thing we have ever considered doing. We may feel content just to sit back and stay comfortable, avoiding any external conflict. At some point, though, we will have to deal with the internal conflict of living in ways that are not congruent with our deepest life-affirming values. Our greatest hope of being fully alive human beings is to fully inhabit ourselves -- to be incarnations of our deepest, most noble selves in the world -- to live into a vision of a best possible version of ourselves. This takes consistent and disciplined effort over time, but it is possible for us to stand in the midst of chaos and remain calm and centered, clearly expressing who we are and what matters most to us.

It may be easy to live a complacent life, to keep coasting on autopilot and let things be just as they are. It's even easy to live life under the illusion that you are helpless victim of the way things are. It's unpleasant, but it doesn't require much effort. What you may not expect, though, is that being fully alive is also easy. Once you have habits and practices in place that keep you grounded in your principles and focused on a vision of a best possible version of yourself, engaging fully in life is not constant hard work. The hard work is in shifting from one to the other, moving from one set of complacent, autopilot habits to a new set of intentional, fully alive habits.

The real decision, then, might actually be whether you are content to be the person fear makes you, or whether you are willing to be the person you most want to be.

John 16: Birthing

As we've observed many times, no one was transcribing the conversations of a historical Jesus. The author of John often writes about the issues and experiences of his community and places predictive or instructive words in Jesus' mouth as a way of establishing authority. If Jesus said it, after all, it has to be right. The obvious problem, of course, is that nobody can even verify that there was a historical Jesus who matched the mythical character in the gospel narratives, much less verify what such a person actually said. Thus, the author of John uses the characters of the disciples in the story to provide additional validation. Toward the end of John 16, for example, the disciples are made to say, "We know that you know all things, and no one needs to question you," and so the reader is expected to believe what the characters in the story believe, through a sort of vicarious trust. It is not all that different from the readers of a Stephen King novel believing in vampires or ghosts because the characters in a fictional story encountered them.

We will set aside this sort of vicarious trust based on fictionalized accounts, even though there may be some historical basis for the account as the author of John recorded. Instead, we'll look at what the author of John wrote, keeping in mind that he and his community faced a great deal of hardship and persecution from the Roman Empire. (We won't get into the myriad causes of that persecution.)

As John 16 continues from the promise of an internal guidance system, the author of John has Jesus speak cryptically about the disciples not seeing him and then seeing him, and pain that will turn to joy. Then, the author has Jesus promise the disciples that anything they request in Jesus' name will be granted to them. Finally, as the chapter closes, the author asserts that Jesus has conquered the world. Let's take a look at these three aspects of this passage in more detail.

How Not to Be Seen

The bits about seeing Jesus and not seeing him and then seeing him again are even written as confusing enough that the disciples in the story don't understand it. Some would read this passage as foreshadowing for the resurrection story, and it certainly makes dramatic sense to view it that way. In this case, it is a literary device that is more or less useless to us in terms of practical application. There is something else here, however, that may point in a different direction. The author compares the experience of the disciples to that of a mother giving birth. Some commentators read this bit as a reference to the earth giving birth to the resurrected Jesus, or some other reference to a rebirth of the Christ figure. Just reading the passages indicates that this cannot be what is intended. The disciples are the ones in pain, and they are the ones who will metaphorically give birth to something that will bring them joy.

Perhaps the author is writing about the birth of the Christian sect, that the disciples will give birth to a new movement within Judaism and away from Judaism that will bring joy. The author of John didn't have the advantage of seeing what monstrosities religious organizations can become when they have power, but rather saw the command of Jesus to love radically as a game changer from previous religious traditions. This idea to love one another first and foremost is what conquered the world for the author of John. So, if the disciples are giving birth to a new religious movement, the author is writing from an optimistic perspective that hasn't been entirely borne out in the history (and current reality) of the Christian church. Certainly, a global political powerhouse designed to control a population through shame and fear does not seem like something that would bring its creators joy. Maybe I just don't find joy in the same things as some other folks. 

What if the author is not thinking in terms of a global political powerhouse designed to control a population through shame and fear, though? What if the author was thinking in terms of how people and communities grow and mature? We considered in the first portion of John 16 that the Jesus character had to disappear in order for the disciples to take the responsibility of living into his example of radical love. When the Exemplar is around, doing all the work, taking all the risks and responsibility, life is pretty easy for the followers. When they are suddenly faced with doing the work of radical love themselves, becoming personally responsible for living into the principles they have embraced, life can become a little more challenging. Painful even. But that sort of commitment to integrity pays big dividends in terms of personal satisfaction and joy. And that joy originates from an individual's own innermost being, so it cannot be taken away by anything external. And that intentional life of integrity has influence that reaches beyond the individual.

The author of John may be envisioning what he hopes for his community -- that they take seriously the example of radical love exemplified in their image of Jesus and that they take personal responsibility for living by that example, even when it seems difficult and painful. Then, his community would see Jesus again, not because of any sort of miraculous return, but because they had each become a living embodiment of radical love -- each one of them an Exemplar for others to learn from and imitate. Maybe conveying these ideas directly seemed less effective than contextualizing everything in the Jesus myth, but somehow many people have glossed right over any suggestion of personal responsibility in the author's words.

In Jesus' Name

The apparent guarantee about receiving from God anything asked for in Jesus' name hasn't done anything to bolster a sense of personal responsibility. People read these promises from the author of John, placed in the mouth of the Jesus character, and they draw all sorts of conclusions about the magical formula of prayer. (For the sake of ease, let's define prayer here as petitionary -- asking a supernatural for something. All prayer may not fit into this category, but petitionary prayer is really what we're talking about.)

Some people even today believe that their financial, physical, emotional, and social well-being are ultimately dependent on their faith and their prayers. Some people even today believe that when something undesirable happens in their lives, God is punishing them or testing them. It would be a lot easier if passing the test involved taking more personal responsibility and trusting the advice of competent professionals, but usually passing such a "test of faith" seems to involve trusting or waiting on God to act on one's behalf. It's rather like being passive aggressive toward an imaginary supernatural, but doing it with an attitude of abject dependence.

I grew up in this sort of culture, in which prayers were believed to be answered directly by the supernatural, and I have the benefit of experiencing life on both sides of this belief. Now, with over a decade of prayerlessness under my belt, I can attest that life is better without prayer. What I may have expected God to do for me before, I now recognize as my own responsibility. Some things are beyond my control, of course, and for those things I can seek the advice of competent experts. Some things are even beyond the control of competent experts, and in those instances I can hope for a desirable outcome, realizing that it doesn't mean anything one way or the other about me or how acceptable or worthy I am. I know that things will go the way I want them to just as often whether I pray to God (in Jesus' name or otherwise) or I pray to my toaster -- I will get the experience of a Yes, No, or Wait answer regardless of the object of my prayer. In which case, why pray at all? 

I'm not sure how many believers read this commentary, but if there are prayerful people reading along, here is an experiment that you can conduct in your own life: Stop praying for two months. See how things go. Continue to be mindful, meditate, and be introspective if you like.) Also be aware of your own temptation to self-sabotage your life. Not relying on God to solve your problems for you means that you have to take responsibility for your own life. Try it for two months straight and keep track of your good days and bad days, your tragedies and celebrations. Then go back to petitioning God for two months. Keep track of your good days and your bad days, your tragedies and celebrations. Is there a difference? If so, maybe your experience of prayer has something to it that I never experienced. If the practical reality of your life is essentially the same whether you pray or not, maybe you would want to reevaluate your expectations of prayer.

In any case, we should also consider what it means to ask for something in Jesus' name. We have no idea what this may have meant to the author of John. Maybe he believed, as some people still do today, that one's prayers must include the words, "in Jesus' name," in order for them to be effective. As we have observed before, this is the very epitome of magic. If I do the right things, say the right magic words, make the right symbolic gestures -- Poof! I get the results I want. Such prayers are just a Christian version of magical incantations. Maybe that fits with the cultural beliefs of the late first century. 

Maybe the author of John had something else in mind, though. Maybe asking for something in Jesus' name is another way of saying, "If you are following the example of Jesus, if you have his heart and his mind, if you are walking in the way of compassion and radical love, the things you wind up desiring will flow naturally from that way of being." Maybe the author of John is even suggesting, "If you have the attitude of the Exemplar, and you recognize your own power in your life, you can accomplish things you never dreamed possible."

Conquering the World

Whatever he meant, though, the author follows up by directly admitting that much of the words he attributes to Jesus are figures of speech, in other words, not to be taken literally. He legitimizes the scattering of the disciples with predictive statements of Jesus (written over fifty years after any scattering might have occurred), and then he has Jesus proclaim that he has conquered the world. Indeed, some segments of the church do seem in many ways to still be on a crusade to conquer the world and make everyone behave the way certain religious leaders want them to behave, but the author of John had no clue how imperialistic and politically powerful Christianity would become. What could he have meant by asserting that Jesus had conquered the world?

Most likely, the world is a metaphor here for the widely accepted cultural and societal assumptions about what matters most and what gives life value. Today, we might interpret the world as the glorification of capitalism, the perceived importance of having an expensive home in an exclusive neighborhood and all the toys and entertainment devices one can possibly grab. The world may be the perceived separation of people based on skin color, ethnicity, gender identity, or sexuality. The world is certainly the idea that wealth and power make life more worthwhile, that the promise of wealth and power are worth any sacrifices necessary. 

Jesus in the gospel of John is also a metaphor. The Jesus character is an exemplar of radical love that places people and community as more important than possessions, an exemplar of fully inhabiting one's identity and deriving satisfaction from living authentically rather than from living according to an externally derived set of criteria, an exemplar of engaging in building relationships and focusing on human connection rather than engaging in building empires and focusing on stockpiles of useless distractions from the messiness of human connection. 

Perhaps the author of John believed that people would recognize the futility of the socially perpetuated myth of wealth and power if they experienced the fullness of human connection and authenticity available to people. Perhaps he believed that people would be wise enough to choose what is deeply meaningful and satisfying in life over what is ephemeral and fatuous. Millions of people seem not to be wise enough even to understand that this is the choice before them. 

Here is an opportunity for clarity in your life. No supernatural is going to do the things for you that are your responsibility to do. All of the wealth and power in the world will not make your life more satisfying; these things just bring different kinds of anxieties. Your willingness to prioritize building connection within yourself and with the human beings around you is the key that unlocks meaningfulness and satisfaction in life. Your willingness to grow into greater authenticity with confidence is what allows you to transcend the pettiness of living from distraction to distraction until you're put in a box. Connection and authenticity can be painful, more painful than the numbness of being disconnected and irresponsible. But along with that pain comes the opportunity to give birth to something amazing -- You.

John 16: No Messiah Needed

When reading words attributed to Jesus, it is important to keep in mind that we have no record of Jesus from the time during which he was supposed to have lived. We know that some other individuals mentioned in the gospel narratives were historical figures, but we have nothing written by or about Jesus during the first half of the first century. In the case of the gospel of John, it's likely that more than 50 years passed between the supposed time of Jesus' crucifixion and the recording of the gospel text. If someone gave a substantial speech in your presence half a century ago, would you remember it word for word? The long term memories of the gospel writers weren't any better than yours. In John, we even see what appear to be attempts to correct (or at least play upon) earlier gospels.

It is for this reason that we ask, "What might the author have meant by this?" rather than, "What might Jesus have meant by this?" when we read the gospel narratives. Jesus is a character in a story, and we have imagined for our examination of John that Jesus is an exemplar, a representative of an idealized version of ourselves. There are some instances, however, in which it is obvious that the author is writing about something specific to his own community of persecuted believers. John 16 is one such instance.

We have just read the bit about the world hating the disciples. The author follows this by indicating that the followers of Jesus will be ostracized from Jewish places of worship and community, and that they will be killed by people who think they are being righteous. These things had already happened to the author's community by the time the gospel was written. Placing these predictions in Jesus' mouth helped to legitimize the experience of the author's community as part of a divine plan. "If Jesus knew about all of this terror ahead of time, then we can trust that he knew we would survive."

These words, then, are not really to Jesus' disciples on the eve of his crucifixion. They are to a community of people struggling to survive in a world that seemed highly committed to harming them. 

There have always been these people, and the descendants of the gospel writer's community have sometimes been on the side doing the persecuting. Africans were brought to the United States as slaves and treated as less than human, and some of the people in power justified it by their Christian scriptures. Even today, the educational and justice systems in place in the U.S. seem orchestrated to persecute people with darker skin tones. And many people think they are being righteous in perpetuating injustice. Some of those people are Christian. The author of John might suggest that such people have never known God or Jesus.

The LGBT community is another group facing constant persecution in many parts of the world, including the United States. Progress has been made, but there are still places of worship and community where LGBT folks are ostracized. There are still people who inflict harm on LGBT people and think they are doing God's work. The author of John might suggest that such people have never really known God or Jesus, else they would never be able to hate so intensely.

The author of John also provides an answer, and surprisingly the answer is that people do not need Jesus. In fact, in this passage, Jesus tells the disciples that he must be out of the picture so that they will learn to trust an "Advocate" or "Helper" within themselves. The author of John suggests that this internal guidance system cannot function if Jesus remains, perhaps because the disciples would never learn to trust their own sense of what it is to love radically, to live with purpose and integrity to their own principles, to be agents of transformation. 

Whether there was ever an actual Jesus or not, the example set by the gospel narrative is not that far off from the guidance of our deepest, most noble selves. We know what fear looks like, and we know what love looks like. We know what it is to be guided by our anxiety, and we know what it looks like to be guided by solid values. We lift up people who live with purpose and intention because we think of them as extraordinary, but the truth is that it could be very ordinary human behavior to live with a sense of purpose, in impeccable alignment with a clear set of guiding principles. 

Integrity need not seem so extraordinary. 

Our human fears do not have to carry more influence than our human connection. 

Our anxiety need not be more powerful than our ability to love and thrive together. 

We do not need a messiah. 

We need to pay attention to our own selves, our internal sense of what is ultimately true about ourselves and others, once we have cleared away all of the irrational fear and anxiety. 

We are so accustomed to listening to our anxiety that many of us have forgotten what the voice of actual truth sounds like. 

We don't need a savior. 

We just need to learn to listen to ourselves better. 

And that takes courage. 

Integrity seems so extraordinary now because living by clear principles is counter-cultural. In many ways we are addicted to anxious reactivity. 

It takes courage to stand for something besides fear. 

It takes courage to establish values in our lives that acknowledge the inherent worth and dignity of every person. 

It takes courage to recognize that violence and entitlement always come from a place of fear. 

It takes courage to stand calmly in the midst of reactive people and not be swayed by their anxiety.

And no one else can be courageous for you. 

No one else can dismantle your fear for you. 

No one else can have integrity for you. 

This is the human work of human beings, not work to entrust to a supernatural. 

Others can support and encourage and empower you, but the work is yours to do. 

It's what human beings do when they are ready to be fully human.

So, are you ready?

John 15: Criticism Is Not a Righteousness Indicator

Immediately after having Jesus telling the disciples to base all that they do on love, the author of John observes a dichotomy between the way the disciples are supposed to live and the rest of the world. The author of John asserts in John 15:18-27 that the world will persecute the followers of Jesus because they do not know (or willingly remain ignorant of) the truth of Jesus' message.

Some people wear persecution as a badge of honor. Some people even read in the Bible that they should expect persecution if they follow the example of Jesus, and then they go out of their way to make sure others will criticize them. The problem is that some people believe that if other people criticize what they are doing, they must be doing something right. They use persecution as confirmation that they are being righteous. This is horribly misguided.

When we decide that other people's derision is a sign that we are headed in the right direction, we walk a very dangerous path. We need other people's insights and observations, because we cannot see everything ourselves. We have blind spots. When we refuse to consider the feedback other people offer to us, we miss opportunities to adjust our behavior when we are misaligned with our deepest values.

The author of John is suggesting that if people take seriously the call to radical love, then there will be others who attack that position out of fear and ignorance. The point is not that if people criticize you, you're doing something right. The point is that if you're doing what is right, some people will criticize you. There is a huge difference. Criticism is to be expected, and we should prepare for it so we don't get knocked off course. Criticism is not a measurement tool, though. We can't assume that all criticism is an indication that we are effectively basing all that we do on sound principles in alignment with our deepest values. 

Anxiety causes people to base their decisions on all manner of things that are worthy of criticism. People crave more wealth, more exclusive neighborhoods, more toys, more isolation from people who seem different, more access to high quality healthcare and education and food and entertainment. We see suffering and we often run the other way, trying to escape it in our own lives because we can't stand seeing it in other people's lives. We build walls of protection around ourselves so that we don't have to face a reality that might cost us something. We fail to love because we are too busy being right, we just don't always know what we're trying to be right about. We lose our sense of our principles and our values because we are too focused on making our anxiety go away.

We have to know what we value first and foremost, and we have to live with integrity to those values. If we envision ourselves as loving people, for instance, that value is the guide by which we evaluate our behavior, not people's criticism. If we want to be loving, and other people give us feedback that we aren't being very loving, we need to pay attention to that feedback. Using criticism as an indicator that we must be on the right path can lead us far astray from the principles upon which we most want our lives to be built.

As the author of John suggests, we have within us an internal guidance system. Some of us may not pay a lot of attention to it, especially if we are accustomed to writing off criticism as validation. Yet, we know when there is something off about our behavior, or when there is something off in our relationships. The author of John probably experienced some persecution as he and his community strove to build their behavior on the foundation of radical love. The radical love was the goal, though, not the persecution.

There are those today who believe that their religious liberties are threatened when other people gain equal freedoms under the law. When they speak out in hatred and fear, they are sometimes criticized, and sometimes they turn to passages like this one and claim that the people doing the criticizing are misguided and ignorant. Such fearful and hateful people often miss the context of the passage, that love is intended to be the foundation of every action. 

Hatred and violence are worthy of criticism, and any belief system that promotes fear and violence is worthy of all the admonishment we can muster. We can speak words of admonition without becoming hateful and fearful ourselves. We can be loving and still provide strong corrective feedback when others allow their fear to run away with them. We absolutely must offer boldly loving admonition if we want our world and our relationships to be just and equitable.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

"If people hate you for being loving and for living with integrity, be aware that people have always done so. If you had their level of unchecked anxiety, you would fit right in and people would accept you more easily. Because you have taken on a more intentional way of being, some people are going to hate you. You are not alone. Many other people before you have been persecuted by fearful people. But there have also always been people who sought a better way of living.

"If people had no resources to manage their anxiety and live more intentionally, it would be easier to forgive their ignorant hatred. By now, though, there have been plenty of examples in every religious tradition that could equip and empower people to live with integrity to the deepest value of love. When they hate you for being loving, they wind up hating the very thing they say they most value, even their own gods. They have no justifiable reason to be anxious, but they refuse to realize it.

"You have a connection with your deepest, most noble self. Nurture that connection and let it guide you into integrity with what you value most. Your very life will be a testimony to those who are willing to listen, and a model for those who are willing to follow your example."

John 15: Vines and Branches

The narrative at the end of John 14 has Jesus suggesting that his disciples were going to get up and go somewhere. John 15 starts with more teaching in the voice of Jesus. Did they go somewhere? Are they packing up and getting ready to go somewhere while Jesus keeps talking? It doesn't matter. This section of John is not about the plot of the narrative, but about the spiritual paradigm the authors want to promote. Remember that this is not direct quotation. No one was transcribing what an actual historical Jesus said. This is a theological idea created by someone decades after a historical Jesus might have lived, and the likely purpose of putting these words in Jesus' mouth was to clarify the identity of a particular religious community.

With that in mind, is there anything we can glean from John 15 without accepting the premises of the ancient community for which it was written? We'll tackle the first half of the chapter this week, and we'll look at the second half of John 15 next. We can't just translate the idea of the Father deity in this passage as a deepest, most noble self, because it's obvious that the authors conceptualize a supernatural who intervenes in the lives of people, taking action to "prune" some people and to gather others up and throw them into the fire. There is little of value in such a fear-based motivation to cling to a certain teaching or belief.

However, there may be some truth underlying the mythology. Perhaps one could observe that people who respond to their circumstances with integrity learn how to maintain integrity such that it becomes easier and easier to live intentionally by a clear set of guiding principles. This would be the pruning that enables one to bear more fruit. The pruning is simply the result of experience and practice rather than the active will of a supernatural.

What of those who are gathered and burned? For some readers, this is a clear threat of Hell, which they imagine is an eternity of torment. The authors actually don't suggest anything of the sort. The authors suggest destruction, and they don't even clarify whether they mean physical or spiritual destruction. Readers bring their own mythologies to the words of the text and assume that they know the mind of the authors. One of my professors used to say, "Let the text be specific where it is specific and vague where it is vague," and then he would proceed to fill in any vagueness with his own theological convictions. Human beings use their own creativity to fill gaps in knowledge. Perhaps the responsible thing to do is to be aware of the line between one's creativity and actual information.

So, if experience is what results in "pruning" such that a person becomes more and more comfortable and confident with responding to life with integrity, the opposite might also be true. When we become convinced of our own false beliefs about ourselves, other people, and the way the world works, we can head down a spiral of destruction. Letting our fears run us can destroy our relationships, our opportunities for meaningful work, and even our sense of connection with ourselves. If we consistently doubt the viability of our deepest values, there is no way for us to live into them. We could become predictably reactionary to every circumstance, leaving a trail of anxiety-fueled chaos behind us until we self-destruct.

The authors seem to have Jesus say that he is the vine and his disciples are branches of that vine. Then, they have him claim that they are not servants, but are friends. Friends are more or less equal, which the authors demonstrate by asserting that Jesus disclosed everything to his friends. They had equivalent knowledge. The authors still had Jesus issuing commandments to his "friends," though, and appointing them to "go and bear fruit." Maybe the word friend means different things to different people.

If we interpret this business about Jesus being the vine a little differently, it might be more useful to us. If Jesus is intended as the Exemplar of the narrative, then Jesus as an individual isn't the vine so much as the example he sets is the vine. The way of being that connects with one's deep values and acts with integrity to those values -- that is the vine. People who adopt that way of being are branches off of that vine. That practical ideology is built on something deeper than irrational fear, so people who branch off of that way of being must commit to dismantling their fears. Actually, you can't act with integrity to your guiding principles and simultaneously be controlled by your anxiety. Living intentionally cannot coexist with living reactively. 

People who can't or won't let go of their irrational fear, then, can't be connected to that way of being that prioritizes deep values and lives in alignment with those values. Those people are cut off from the vine, not by a supernatural, but by their own choices. Maybe they are cut off because they don't yet have the ability to live with integrity. They have to become more skillful if they want to be a branch of that practical ideology. Which means that they can be "grafted on" whenever they choose to (or learn to) live more intentionally, based on their clear guiding principles. If they never learn or choose to connect with their deepest values and live according to those values, then we see people who only know how to react out of their anxiety -- a habit that eventually consumes them like a fire.

Or maybe the business about the vine is slightly different. If the vine is the practical ideology of living with intention based on a clear set of guiding principles, maybe the branches could also be seen as the various choices that a person might make. Those choices that do not align with that way of being are cut off, or avoided, because integrity prompts a different decision. Those choices made in integrity lead to more satisfying options, yielding a life that is even more fulfilling. Even if we choose to interpret the vine and branches in this way, the bottom line is that integrity yields more satisfying lives than anxiety does.

It may also occur to you that one cannot be consumed with anxiety and also love other people well. The guiding principle the authors of John commend, to love one another, necessitates learning to manage one's anxiety -- learning to dismantle irrational fears. Love is not a haphazard, coincidental occurrence. Love is an intentional act, or an intentional way of being in relationship with another person. Love and fear don't play well together. If love is our priority, then we have to deal with our fear healthily.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

"The way of being that I've demonstrated to you is like a vine, and your deepest, most noble self nourishes that vine. If there is something my anxiety prompts me to do that doesn't line up with my guiding principles, my connection with my deepest, most noble self helps me clarify how to make decisions that have integrity. I cut off the options that don't align with my deepest values, and the principled decisions I make lead to more opportunities to live into my guiding principles. 

"You have already learned how to dismantle your irrational fears and clarify your guiding principles, because I've taught you how. You aren't a slave to your anxiety. Keep living with integrity, as the way of being I've modeled continues to take root in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you create the life you most want unless you live with intention. The way of being I've demonstrated to you is like a vine, and your lives are like branches off that vine. Those who live intentionally, aligned with their deepest values, have transformational lives. Whoever does not live intentionally, aligned with their deepest values, lives a life consumed with anxiety until they burn out. 

"If you live intentionally, and if you are clear about what actually matters most to you, you can accomplish things that other people only dream about. Your guiding principles run deeper than your fear. Your deepest, most noble self isn't represented in your irrational fears. Your deepest, most noble self understands that fulfillment in life is sourced by genuine love. As I understand the principle of love -- demonstrative concern for another's well-being -- so I have loved you; live with that model of love in mind. If you do what I've modeled for you, you will live with that kind of love as a guiding principle. I have said these things to you so that you will experience the same exuberance in life that I have experienced.

"If you still don't know your guiding principles, begin with this: love one another as I have loved you. When you feel obligated to give up something of yourself for another person, that is your anxiety and fear speaking. When you freely choose to let go of your own wants in order to meet the needs of someone else, that is love. Love is not an obligation, but a free choice -- saying 'Yes' when it would be equally safe to say 'No.' In the same way, don't try to live with integrity because you think you are obligated to me. The point is not for you to prove something to me. The point is for you to have the most satisfying life possible. I've told you and modeled for you everything that I have -- vulnerably and authentically -- because I believe in your ability to live intentionally into a best possible version of yourselves. If you connect with yourselves and align with your own deep values, you can create a life that is truly fulfilling. And part of that fulfilling life is in choosing to love one another, and to hold demonstrative concern for one another's well-being as a priority." 

John 14: Within You

The second half of John 14 continues the message of comfort, encouragement, and empowerment. In the story, Jesus is aware of his imminent arrest and death sentence. The disciples seem not to have caught on in the narrative, so some of the words of this passage seem intended to prepare them for the events that are about to unfold. Of course, these words were written at least 60 years after the events they describe would have taken place, so the authors must have had a different reason for writing them down. Maybe it was just to tell the story in a way that had a clear dramatic arc.

We see evidence in this passage of the superstitions of the time, but underneath much of the language here, there is a message of personal empowerment. This is primarily in the bits about the Advocate or Holy Spirit. There are also a few turns of phrase here that we might consider coercive. "If you love me, you will...," is a hallmark of an anxious communicator trying not to sound anxious. We might graciously reinterpret those sentences into a clearer definition of what the authors mean by "love." Although it is a wonderfully concise way of saying a great many things, love is also a rather vague word that is subject to interpretation (or misinterpretation). Thus, we might replace it in this context with something more precise, such as, "If you trust the merits of what I have taught you and how you have seen me engage in life, you will follow my example."

The audience in the narrative have traveled with the Exemplar, they have seen him engaging authentically in living with integrity to his deep guiding principles (which were in alignment with the stated guiding principles of at least some expressions of first-century Judaism), and they have heard him explain to them how they might do the same. Still, they consider him to be uniquely qualified to live as he lives, and they are content to be less than he -- less capable, less aware, less human. The narrative is about to take a nasty turn, and the Exemplar is going to be killed for living with integrity to his principles, because this is a scary thing to people who value quiet compliance over bold authenticity. He takes these final moments with his friends to prompt them to see their own ability to live intentionally and with integrity.

The reader already knows the story, presumably. The Jesus character dies, reminding everyone reading that it can be dangerous to live according to clearly defined, deep guiding principles, even though it is the most rewarding way to engage in the fragile art of living. Then, the authors bring the hero back to life, which undercuts the very core of their message. With this supernatural act as part of the narrative, the Jesus character is turned into something beyond what any person can hope to be. Instead of feeling empowered to engage in this life fully, many readers believe themselves to be weak and incapable of doing anything good on their own. Instead of following an example of how to live with integrity, many readers spend their time waiting for a next life that they think has been promised to them. I guess it's a good thing the dead can't be disappointed.

Abundant examples among twenty-first century believers demonstrate the tendency of the overall narrative to convince people that they are weak, broken, incapable, and even worthless. Every day, people express their conviction that they need a supernatural's help to make basic moral and ethical decisions. How can such a person even consider being fully alive with authenticity and integrity? This depiction of humanity as weak, worthless, and incapable is not only a useless and lazy image, it isn't even an accurate impression of what passages like John 14 are intended to express.

The point of this part of the narrative is for the Jesus character to express the capability and power of human individuals to live fully. The promise given, to the disciples in the story and presumably to the reader as well, is that whatever you think of as divinity is within you. There is no reason for anxiety, because you already know how to be intentional. You already know how to be honest, even when it is challenging. You already know how to live with integrity to your deep values. The promised Advocate "abides in you, and will be in you." This is different language for what we might call a deepest, most noble self -- the very human qualities of truth, beauty, and creativity that help us define our principles and allow them to guide our decisions. Human beings are not weak and incapable; they have within them all that they need to live morally, ethically, and purposefully. You have within you all that you need to live morally, ethically, and purposefully.

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"If you really believe that the way of being I've demonstrated to you is the best way to live, take this business about loving one another seriously. You have access to your deepest, most noble self just as I have access to my deepest, most noble self. Pay attention to your deepest values and let them guide you, and you won't be disappointed. Other people are going to think that this is all wrong. They don't understand things that you now know to be true about how to live fully. You aren't responsible for their understanding. You're responsible for your own integrity.

"I'm not going to be here much longer, and yet you will keep seeing things that remind you of me in the world. When you see love and kindness and compassion, you'll be reminded of me. When you see justice and equity being carried out, you'll be reminded of me. When you see people paying attention to their deepest values and living with authenticity and integrity, you'll be reminded of me. I'm not really going anywhere when you look at it like that. And if you live in a way that reflects your deepest, most noble self, other people are going to see my hopes alive in you -- they will see what I care about most, made manifest in your life.

"I say this now, while I'm with you, but you don't really need me to tell you this. You know what your deep values are. Trust them. Trust yourselves. Don't be worried about what other people think you ought to do. Don't be afraid of what will happen. Just live with integrity, and place love as the cornerstone of your life. If you live into a best possible version of yourself, you can be at peace with whatever the outcome is. If you don't yet know the principles that you want to guide your decisions, you can discover them. You are responsible for your lives. You are capable. You are powerful. You are insightful. You don't need someone else to tell you what to do. You just needed someone to show you that it's possible."

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If you want to live fully, you have to connect with yourself. Whatever else you choose to believe in, you have to believe in yourself. This is not to say that you form a set of unrealistic expectations about what you can do. Belief in and of itself will not change reality. Every person has limitations. But if you want to fully inhabit yourself, you have to recognize that you are a capable, whole, powerful, insightful, beautiful, creative human being with inherent worth and dignity. You may have a few things to learn or figure out, and you will definitely make mistakes along the way. The bottom line, though, is that your vision of a best possible version of yourself is worth living into -- that you are worth believing in.

John 14: The Road to Shambala

Any interpretation of the seemingly mystical words of John 14 depends largely on the reader. Those who are less inclined to read thoughtfully may accept a traditional interpretation impressed upon them by a religious leader, but this would still be a human interpretation of an ambiguous text. Interpretation begins with some assumptions on the part of the reader. Some assumptions might be that there exists an eternal soul which persists after death, that there is an actual effective process of petitioning a supernatural for aid, and/or that Jesus was a uniquely divine individual. John 14 says none of that, but some readers believe that it does because they bring those assumptions to the text.

We will begin from a different set of assumptions. Based on the current evidence we have from scientific inquiry, there is no eternal soul; when people die, they are done perceiving and experiencing, even though they may "live on" in the memories of others. There is no supernatural considering requests from natural beings; sincere prayers made to a stapler will result in the same experiential answers as sincere prayers to a deity. Whatever the stories may say about Jesus, every person is capable of living with integrity to a set of meaningful principles that emulate those demonstrated by the gospel narratives. If Jesus exemplifies behavior that other people cannot hope to achieve, then the New Testament and Christianity have little value.

Jesus' behavior as the gospel narratives tell it does strike a chord with us, however. There is something admirable and inspiring about the basic principle to love authentically. When we look at this text through a Humanist lens, assuming that every person has inherent worth and dignity, we can still find meaning and a compelling invitation regarding how we might live.

Yes, it's still true that the authors lived in a particular culture with a particular religious identity, and so Jesus refers to a cosmology that is representative of that culture. To translate the use of "Father" in this passage directly into a sense of "deepest, most noble self" doesn't quite work. That sense is still largely useful, however, and places where it seems less than effective to translate things this way can be attributed to the authors aligning with cultural assumptions about reality.

Incidentally, before taking any seminary courses, I would have felt a little sketchy suggesting that we can interpret things one way in one instance and another way in another instance, based on a pre-selected set of assumptions. After reading numerous theologians, it has become clear that this is common practice, however, and there is no reason to hold to an arbitrary restriction that believing "professional interpreters" dismiss.

Thus, we have something of a commissioning here, issued in the narrative by Jesus to the disciples, but presumably intended by the authors to be appropriate to all readers. There are several phrases here that require definition. "Believe in," for instance, has often been misconstrued as passive trust that never entertains doubt. More useful to us would be interpreting the phrase as "trust in the values and example of." In other words, "Trust in the underlying values of your deepest most noble self, and trust also in the example that I have set for you in living out those values."

Then there is this business about Jesus going somewhere, and preparing the way for others. For readers who assume that there is a heavenly afterlife, this can be a comforting excuse not to worry about too much in this life, because the next life is all set up, comfy and cozy. While there is an element of reassurance here, the point doesn't seem to be to tell the disciples to just relax. If we begin with the assumption that there is no afterlife, and that this life is all we have, then there is some element of metaphor at work here. (Imagine, metaphor in a work of literature.)

Preparing the way for someone often means that a precedent has been set, that an example has been provided to emulate. This would seem to be the most useful interpretation here as well. The Exemplar has modeled a way of being that maintains integrity even at apparently great personal cost, because we give life meaning by establishing clear values and living like we mean it. That is how the way has been prepared. Readers know what that might look like by observing the (mythological and sometimes metaphorical) examples of the gospel narratives.

Of course, the real elephant on the page is that proclamation, "I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me." Whether the authors intended it or not, these two short sentences have led to an insane degree of exclusivity and harm perpetrated by believers on those who practice other traditions, or no tradition at all. The "Father" of this passage is what we have equated with our deepest, most noble self, not an external supernatural. We might get distracted into fruitless debate about whether Jesus (or the authors of John) knew this, but even in this very passage, the writers have Jesus spell it out. "I am in the Father and the Father is in me." "The Father who dwells in me does his work." This is not an external supernatural. This is something within the person -- within every person.

So, the example set by Jesus demonstrates an understanding of deep guiding principles, which are perceived to be aligned with the core values underlying Jewish identity, but are humanist enough to resonate with all people. By acting consistently with integrity to these deep guiding principles, Jesus models a startling degree of authenticity and personal power. The example is one of a person fully alive.

You cannot connect with your deepest, most noble self if you are not willing to be honest. You cannot connect with your deepest, most noble self if you are living on autopilot or even passively acquiescing to someone else's values. You cannot connect with your deepest, most noble self if you are unwilling to take personal responsibility for your decisions and own your authentic power. That is what these words could mean to us. 

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The Exemplar said to his closest friends, "Don't be defined by fear. Seriously, don't let your fear and anxiety guide your identity or your actions. Trust your deep values; trust the guidance of your deepest, most noble self. You've seen me live with integrity. Now it's your turn. There's not one right way to live on purpose. There is more room for diversity than you can imagine. I haven't prescribed a specific way of doing everything because it isn't necessary. If it was, I care enough about you that I would have mentioned that. You get to decide how you will be, in alignment with your deep values.

"I want you to experience life as I do -- fully alive, fully aware of a best possible version of myself, and fully aware of how what I do connects with what I really care about. You know how to do this." Thomas said to him, "We don't even know where you are going. How can we know the way?"

The Exemplar said to him, "I am where I am going. I've shown you the way in every moment we've spent together. Have you been paying attention? You have to be honest with yourself. You have to be willing to confront your fears and claim your identity from deep within yourself. You have to be willing to take responsibility for living into that identity. If you've seen the way I live, you know what I'm talking about. From now on, you know how to connect with your deepest, most noble self and you know how to live with integrity."

Philip said to him, "Tell us the secret of your deepest, most noble self. Show us what to do specifically, and we'll do it."

The Exemplar said to him, "Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and you still don't know me? If you know me, you know what I value. If you've seen the way I live, you've seen my guiding principles. How can you say, 'Show us your secret self'? Do you not believe that I live with integrity to my deepest, most noble self? I don't come up with clever things to tell you, but I speak from my deepest values -- from the love and compassion that my deepest most noble self prompts from within me.

"Believe me that I'm behaving with integrity to my deepest most noble self; but if that seems too far-fetched, believe me because of what you've seen of my life. I've been completely authentic with you. It's time for you to take all of this seriously for yourselves, because if you commit to living with integrity to your deep guiding principles, you're going to be the same kind of example to others that I have been to you. In fact, you're going to do even more than I have done, because I'm not going to be around much longer.

"If you can reach a point of fearless integrity that authentically recognizes the inherent value of every person, if you are willing to strike a balance between unconditional love and absolute honesty, and if you are able to embrace a definition of success in life based on how well you align your actions with your deepest values, you're going to be satisfied. There is nothing more valuable that a person without fear could desire."

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Sure, there is still plenty of terminology in there that leaves room for interpretation, and some intentions take a lot of work, even though they may be simple to express. Still, this captures the gist of what this passage seems to be saying, with full awareness that I'm choosing to read it through a Humanist lens. Actually, it seems clear through any lens that these words are intended to inspire and challenge both the disciples and the reader. I'm also not sure how the principles demonstrated by Jesus in the gospel narrative are different from the Humanist assertions that all people have inherent worth and dignity, and that human life is lived fully when people accept responsibility for honoring their intrinsic connection with other human beings.

The bottom line seems to be that we need to know ourselves as fully as we can in order to live the most meaningful lives possible. I don't see a lot of people doing that, but that doesn't mean that we shouldn't try.

John 12: Loving and Hating Life (and considering the donkey)

After the story about foot-anointing as an unabashed act of appreciation, the chapter continues with several short scenes interspersed with passages from Hebrew scripture. The synoptic Gospels (Matthew, Mark, and Luke) more frequently suggest that Old Testament words predicted things about Jesus, but here even the authors of John suggest that Jesus did certain things as a "fulfillment" of prophecies. Especially when we remember that the gospel of John was composed more than 50 years after a historical Jesus would have lived, this raises a few questions. We'll take the remainder of the chapter in two large chunks over the next couple of weeks. First, John 12:9-26.

To begin with, we find the Jewish priests having more murderous thoughts, now focused on Lazarus because his resurrection had understandably impressed some people. Why it didn't impress the Pharisees is unexplained. I suppose it is the plot of a number of horror movies that when a person comes back from the dead it isn't necessarily a good thing, but we have nothing in the biblical text to suggest that Lazarus was doing anything untoward after he returned. Actually, the biblical text doesn't suggest that Lazarus did anything, period. Was this passage just to paint the Jewish leaders in a poor light?

Obviously, every saga needs a villain, and the Jewish leaders are the villains of the gospel of John. In our lives, we also face people who can't see the good that people do because they are focused on undermining some sworn enemy. The Pharisees in the biblical myth have a hard time honoring the good things that Jesus does because they are afraid of something about him. The same thing happens in workplaces, families, and perhaps most blatantly in American politics. As human beings, we are bound to eventually face someone who can't appreciate our accomplishments because they are too busy trying to tear us down. Hopefully, we attend to our principles well enough that we don't fall into that pattern of behavior. There's really nothing of value to be gained from tearing other people down.

When we try to tear other people down, it is a testament to our own fear. We may be afraid that other people are going to be fooled by someone, which is to say that we believe that other people are less intelligent and more gullible that we are. We may be afraid that people will ignore us and pay attention to a more impressive person -- that we will not have our emotional needs met. We may be afraid that someone is going to get more money than us, that we will suffer financially if we don't tear someone else down. All of these fears are understandable, and still these fears sabotage our own happiness more than anyone else's.

A more emotionally mature response is to live with integrity despite the attention or apparent benefit someone else receives. From the flip side, when people's fears and hostility is focused on us, the emotionally mature response is to recognize it as a symptom of their own fear. We can remain connected with people who attack us if we want, but we should be aware of our own tendencies to be provoked. We don't want our attempts to remain engaged with hostile people to wind up knocking us off our intentional, principled path. In every situation, the important place to begin is with clarity about our own deep values and clear guiding principles. From there, we can act with integrity. There are times when the best response for us may be to ignore the reactive hostility of others.

The exemplar of the story in John certainly seems to ignore any perceived threat from the Jewish leaders. He leaves Lazarus unguarded and makes a grand entrance into Jerusalem. Now, this "triumphal entry" scene happens in every gospel narrative, but it does make a lot of sense to be celebrated by the crowds once news spread that someone had been raised from the dead. We have mentioned that the authors of John probably at least knew about the other gospel narratives, since the gospel of John was the last among the biblical gospels to be written. So, perhaps the reference to Zechariah 9:9 in verse 15 is intended to correct a somewhat ridiculous assertion by the authors of Matthew.

See, the authors of Matthew were so insistent on demonstrating how Jesus was the fulfillment of scriptural prophecy that they wind up suggesting some odd things. In the version of this scene in Matthew, the authors interpret their "prophetic" text to mean that the messiah will ride two animals, and so they insist that Jesus rode two donkeys into the city. This ridiculous assertion isn't repeated in the other gospel narratives, and it's just possible that the authors of John included an uncharacteristic indication of prophecy fulfilled to correct the silliness of the triumphal entry scene of Matthew.

The discrepancy is telling, however. It becomes obvious at the very least that the authors of Matthew didn't bear witness to the triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem. This event isn't recorded anywhere else outside of the biblical gospel narratives, which are not independent of one another. Gospel writers often copied previously written passages without any change of detail, which means that they offer no additional support or credibility. The ludicrous scene painted in Matthew of Jesus riding two animals suggests that the authors were willing to invent details in order to match with their interpretation of prophetic scripture, and this in and of itself damages the credibility of the gospel narrative overall.

Perhaps the authors of John realized something along these lines when they included Zechariah 9:9, quoted a little more sensibly. Even if there was a historical Jesus who made a blatantly messianic entrance into Jerusalem, this kind of behavior might be a bit suspect. If the symbolism of a display is going to be interpreted as a fulfillment of prophecy, the prophecy would have to be pretty familiar to people. And if a prophecy is familiar, anyone with the ego to do so could "fulfill" at least some prophecy if they wanted to, especially if the prophecy involved something as simple as riding a donkey into the city. Was the Jesus of the gospel of John trying to demonstrate a fulfillment of prophetic predictions? Or was his action coincidentally supported by scriptural words that seemed prophetic after the fact?

Well, the process taken in Matthew demonstrates that at least some prophecy mining was taking place. The authors looked for texts that seemed to contain a messianic prediction, and they invented stories about Jesus that fulfilled those texts. If this were not the case, the gospel of Matthew wouldn't have suggested that Jesus rode into town on two animals. Even if we assume that the other gospel writers took a different approach, what is the point behind mentioning Jesus riding a donkey? If it is to show that he fulfills a messianic prophecy, one must ignore the hundreds of thousands of people who rode into town on donkeys before and after this event. If the point is that Jesus was humble, riding on a donkey instead of a more majestic mount, one must ask how well the character of Jesus was supposed to know Hebrew scripture. If he knew that riding into town on a donkey would be construed as an indicator of the messiah, how humble could he have been?

The gospel of John even subtly acknowledges that these sorts of messianic claims are problematic, and the authors suggest that the followers of Jesus didn't put all this together until after the fact. What is the difference between "remembering that these things had been written of him" and hunting down scriptural texts that seem to fit? If Jesus was an actual person, and if people had actual (fallible, inaccurate) memories of him, how much easier would it have been to find scriptural references that aligned with him than with anyone else? My guess is that once you've decided that someone was a messiah, it's not difficult to track down some supporting texts that match that person's identity and life, especially given that human beings can be very flawed in their perceptions and very creative in their memories of events.

This is one problem with "authoritative" texts. When a document is lifted up as authoritative, it becomes unquestioned. And if you can twist the words to mean what you want them to mean, you can hide behind an unquestionable text rather than having to be personally responsible for what you say and do. The only thing that can give a text authority is alignment with reality. A text doesn't become true just because we agree with it. While we can play match up between people and prophecies as much as we like, the truth is that we could find correlations between anyone's life and the ancient prophecies of some culture. As entertaining as that may be, it's a distraction from living our lives with intention and purpose.

The story actually moves on quickly to the Jesus character speaking about death and purpose. We may not agree with his metaphors, but the authors of John seem to have Jesus say essentially that a person's life is worth more after it's over. When a grain of wheat dies and is buried, it brings forth abundant fruit that would have been impossible if that grain of wheat had remained whole. Likewise, people who cling to their own life and well-being will suffer loss, while people who release their grip on life and well-being find something eternal and wonderful. Then, it is asserted once more that those who follow the example of Jesus will be rewarded.

Alright, so perhaps there is something to the whole "riding a donkey means you're humble" imagery. If the messiah of this story knows how great he is and still chooses to ride a symbolically humble animal, maybe following the example would mean that we recognize our own human frailty and weakness even as we acknowledge our own personal strengths and greatness. Sure, people were making a spectacle and calling him royalty (and he didn't tell them to stop), but he didn't take advantage of their adoration either. He received it humbly and gracefully, by the account in John. We can endeavor to do the same perhaps, balancing honest and authentic self-awareness of our strengths and power with honest and authentic self-awareness of our weaknesses and dependence on others.

What does it mean then that if we love our life we will lose it and if we hate our life we will gain it? This phrase also appears in all four gospels, although in different contexts. The authors of John seem to support the concept of eternal life, which we must take as a metaphor. The phrase, "abundant life" seems clearer and more useful. If someone "loves" life in this sense, it would seem to be equivalent with a fear for one's safety, an unhealthy longing for security and safety that becomes the priority over and above one's principles. "Hating" life would then indicate not being worried or fearful about one's safety and security, which would free one up to live with authenticity and integrity to deep guiding principles regardless of other people's reactions. When you stop being afraid of the consequences, it's easier to embody justice, equity, and compassion in your life, despite the resistance others may express. And if more people honored their principles over their own safety, perhaps it would become clear how much our deepest values coincide with one another.

This is what is must mean to emulate the Jesus of the gospel of John, to be committed to one's principles so deeply that integrity is more important than safety, which brings us to one additional possibility for the mention of riding a donkey. The donkey may be symbolic of peace. Certainly, the reference to Zechariah 9:9 makes sense with this interpretation as much as the interpretation of humility. If the presence of the donkey in the story is intended to suggest valuing peace over conflict, then we have another suggestion at what it might mean to emulate an idealized self-differentiated person of integrity. Even when we are more committed to our principles than we are to our own safety and security, this doesn't mean we should be brash and hostile to others about our beliefs and values. The value of peace might help temper our interactions, and is obviously a better frame for our relationships than fear. Our lack of fear about other people's reactions need not mean that we are unnecessarily provocative. Our part is to live intentional lives of integrity and to model gentle fearlessness.


As a postscript, I should be clear in this that there are still people in some places in the world who face very real fear for their safety on a daily basis. I'm writing from the context of United States society, in which a lot of our fear is misguided and irrational. For some, it is a much more challenging prospect to allow one's authenticity to take priority over one's safety. I'm not promoting rash, irresponsible public action. Unlike the apparent glorification of martyrdom in this passage from John, I think we have greater potential to make a difference in the world while we are living in the world. We just need to be honest about how realistic or unrealistic our fears are. If we are afraid that someone is going to put a bullet in our heads if we quietly act for justice, equity, and compassion, we should be thoughtful about how we live out our values. If we are afraid that someone is going to embarrass us or that we are going to lose a bit of popularity or even wealth if we live with integrity to our principles, it's important to put those fears in perspective.