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.

2 Kings 1-4: Being Vessels of Judgment or Vessels of Grace

The stories of Elijah and Elisha are delightful bits of folklore. These two characters have much in common with magicians or sorcerers from the legends of other cultures. Even though Israelite religion forbade witchcraft and the like, simple recontextualization places the actual power in the hands of Yahweh while the men themselves are mere subservient vessels. In 2 Kings 1-4, Elijah predicts the death of an Israelite king, kills 102 soldiers, and passes on his mantle of authentic power to Elisha before catching a ride up to Heaven in a flaming chariot. Elisha sets to work purifying water, summoning bears to eat unruly children, and performing miracles large and small. He increases apparent amounts of olive oil and bread, makes stew safe to eat, and brings a boy back from the dead -- a fairly impressive resume. One significant event is the battle between the king of Moab and the united forces of Israel, Judah, and Edom, in which Elisha proclaims that Yahweh will fill in the gaps in the planning of these three kings in order to give them victory over Moab.

These stories fall into two larger categories: stories of judgment and stories of grace. The judgment stories are obvious, but the origin of the judgment isn't always clear. Ahaziah is obviously being punished by Yahweh, but in the folktale, he doesn't die until Elijah is standing there in front of him. In the meantime, Elijah is justified in calling down fire to consume dozens of soldiers, presumably because they were in the service of a wicked king. Elisha's judgment of the jeering boys is even more clearly the prophet's own decision. The boys say something he doesn't like, so the prophet curses them (in the name of Yahweh), and bears come out of the woods and eat the boys!

Life does not work like this. Even though there are people who commit what we might consider wicked acts, we cannot expect that they will be judged and removed from the world as a result. People die. Sometimes death is a result of personal decisions, but sometimes people die for reasons completely unrelated to how they lived their lives. No matter what a person does in life, death is an eventuality, not divine punishment. Even when we choose to kill someone as a society through capital punishment or military action, these are human decisions carried out by people. While we might like to curse certain people from time to time, our curses do not actually have any power over reality, even if we curse people in the name of our favorite deity.

And let's consider that for just a moment. Elisha curses these boys in the name of his god, and as a result, bears come out of the woods and eat the boys. This is slightly different from the folktale about Elijah taming the wolf, but it still suggests that these folk heroes had influence over nature. More accurately, it suggests that the prophets had influence over Yahweh, who had power over nature. What kind of deity is this, though? When I say, "Those boys are making fun of me, God! Send some bears to eat them!" I would not expect a wise and loving deity to respond, "You got it. Two hungry bears, coming up." I would expect a wise and loving deity to respond with something more like, "They're kids. It's what they do. They'll grow into responsible members of society if you teach them to be wise instead of enforcing a brutal 'one-strike' policy. And you are getting a bit thin on top, baldy."

Obviously the ancient Israelites thought about things differently, but just because they wrote their beliefs down over two millenia ago doesn't mean that their version of divinity was in any way accurate or useful. God does not punish the wicked. The wicked punish themselves. God does not respond to curses, even if the curses are pronounced "in his name," as ridiculous as that seems. This is once again witchcraft by a different name. Even if you believe in a supreme being who watches over human beings and actively responds to prayers, there has to be some limit to your god's willingness to harm people in order for you to have meaningful participation in the world. If there existed a god who was responsive and willing to go along with our momentary emotional reactivity, humanity would no longer exist; we would have cursed one another into early graves a long time ago.

No, even if there is an external divine being trying to guide human activity, the message of our reality is that we must learn the hard lesson of seeing one another more clearly as human beings worthy of respect. Our acts of greed, violence, and oppression (and fear in all its forms) only lead to more problems. We enact our own curses on one another and ourselves by failing to manage our own fearfulness and irrational beliefs. We can lift those curses, too. It just takes commitment to doing things better. Calling down a curse is a quick solution that doesn't require any real investment of our own time and energy. Dismantling our false beliefs about ourselves and other people takes a bit more work, but the end result could be far more impressive than getting a couple of hungry bears to show up and eat our problems.

Every story in these chapters wasn't about divine retribution, though. Some of them were about divine grace. A town has bad water, and the prophet makes it potable (through magic). A widow is in danger of losing her home, and the prophet works a bit of magic and makes her olive oil jar incredibly prodigious for a short time. The prophet makes a woman conceive (we won't ask how), and when the boy dies prematurely, the prophet brings him back to life. The prophet makes poisoned food safe to eat and feeds a hundred people with a little bit of bread. He also brings prediction of God's impressive provenance for a trio of armies that rode out to battle so ill prepared that they ran out of water on the way. This was a little more tricky, and it was obviously done on God's initiative in the story, even though most of the predictions were carried out by people.

We like the idea of grace. If one cannot pay one's bills, unexpected money seems like a miracle from on high. When we think we have a scarcity and reality shows us our abundance, grace makes a lot of sense. In fact, whenever we are expecting bad things to happen and our expectations are shown to be overly pessimistic, it can seem that something outside of ourselves has intervened on our behalf. Grace is the opposite of a curse. But things we don't like still happen. Tragic and devastating things even. We are sometimes woefully unprepared for the challenges we face. Sometimes it's our own irresponsibility that does us it, and sometimes events are so unexpected that we are simply caught off guard. Children (and other people we love) die, often before we are really ready to let them go. This is sad, and it is reality. Medical professionals can sometimes pull off what seems like a miracle (although it's actually human skill), but sooner or later we have to face the death of  someone we care about. It's comforting perhaps to think that there is a god who has the power to intervene and restore a dead person to life, like the Shunammite woman's son or Lazarus coming out of the grave. Yet, can we accept those stories without wondering why no one in our lives has ever been the recipient of such grace?

Despite the rabbit trails of "miraculous" stories that people may tell, the facts are clear on the matter, and my purpose here is not to refute miracles. In fact, judgment and grace are very real. They just aren't in the hands of a supreme being outside of ourselves. Judgment and grace are human endeavors, and we carry them out every day. We know how to punish people, sometimes subtly and sometimes very directly. It may not be fire from the sky or hungry bears, but we all have our ways of letting people know that they've done something wrong and we aren't going to let them get away with it. Curses. Divine retribution. Our international conflicts are no different; they are just symptoms of the same kind of thinking on a larger scale. We can be vessels for our own violent gods of vengeance, and we often are.

We also know about grace. We know how to forgive. We know the benefits of letting go of grudges. We know how to forget about a debt owed to us. We know how to show empathy and compassion, even when we aren't getting what we want from somebody. We know how to show grace. The question is: Do we? We cannot bring back anyone from the dead, but we can have compassion for people who grieve. We cannot stop conflict in the world or decide who will "win" any given battle, but we can put a stop to conflict in our own lives. Grace. Divine blessing. We can do these things just as easily as we curse. Spewing curses just may be more our habit. We can be vessels for our own gods of peace and compassion.

The thing is, whatever you happen to believe, our true beliefs show up in our actions. Whatever we may claim to think about the real nature of humanity and divinity, our behavior tells the truth about our beliefs -- especially when we aren't being particularly intentional. If one were to suggest that every moment is an act of worship, then one would have to admit that people are often idolatrous. We want to claim belief in one thing, but our lives reflect a completely different view of reality. Whether we assert the existence of any sort of god, life makes more sense when our actions line up with what we believe about ourselves, other people, and the world we share. We choose whether we want to be vessels of retribution and punishment or vessels of peace and compassion. I would like to suggest that grace is the preferable option.

1 Samuel 4-7: Adventures of the Magical Ark (and distinguishing between the spiritual and the physical)

After the character of Samuel is introduced, the Israelites misuse the ark of the covenant, assuming that they could manipulate their god into serving them in battle if they were carrying his throne with them.  Eli's sons, who abused their positions of power, died.  The ark was captured by Israel's enemies.  When he heard the news, Eli himself fell and perished.  In foreign lands, the ark went on merry adventures, creating chaos among Israel's enemies until it was returned with gifts.  The ark still put people to death if they looked at it, so this relic's power didn't really favor the Israelites even when it was back on home turf.  Finally, Samuel directs the Israelites to put aside the foreign idols they had begun to revere, and he conducts a religious ceremony involving a ritual sacrifice.  After this, the Israelite god beats back the Philistine threat and Israel has peace for a time.

It is a rather primitive mindset that assumes that a god can be carried around and persuaded because his "throne" can be transported wherever the people want him to be.  And yet, we still enjoy stories about magical artifacts and items that hold great power, whether its the lost ark of the covenant or the trappings of a school for wizards.  Magic is cool.  Magic is intriguing.  Somewhere inside us, we like the idea of things that will give us access to power or abilities that we don't possess all on our own.

The story of the ark's adventures reminds any who believe in God that believers cannot manipulate God into doing what they want him to do.  God doesn't choose sides in a battle based on the geographic location of his throne.  He doesn't pop out like a jack-in-the-box whenever the right magical formula is recited.  Unfortunately, the biblical narrative goes on to suggest that the god of the Israelites can be manipulated if people demonstrate a bit of loyalty and give him blood.  The Israelites eventually got their god to defeat their enemies, they just had to get the magical recipe right.

The divine doesn't inhabit fancy boxes or thrones any more than it inhabits magic wands or cauldrons.  We don't need to recite the proper words or kill the right animals in order to convince the divine to help us and hinder others.  One of the most disappointing things about the biblical narrative that so many have come to accept as truth is that God is portrayed as choosing sides, often arbitrarily.  Some people walk away with the impression that the Christian God can be "for" them and "against" other people, like the fickle Greek gods of Homer.  It is as if some people's prayers are more worthy of God's attention than other people's prayers.  And if this is the case, then we arrive back at the assumption that God can be manipulated into doing what people want, as long as they do the right things to convince him.

There is certainly meaning in ritual.  Ritual can help remind us of our place in history, our values, our identities within the larger pool of humanity.  And when we focus our energy toward a specific intentional purpose in ritual, we can tap into our inherent creativity and capability quite powerfully.  We can also use ritual to cement our fears and beliefs about our own weakness in place, reinforcing the idea that we are incapable of living without some supernatural intelligence working on our behalf.  Ritual simply reinforces what we believe, and as such it can be a powerful tool.  It's important to recognize what beliefs we are reinforcing when we engage in ritual, though.

Magical arks, magic lamps, magic wands, magic mirrors, and magic altars are fictions.  The concept of reciting the proper words and performing the right physical actions to work magic spells, or prayers as it were, reflects a primitive desire to call upon something more powerful than ourselves to do something for us.  Most often this also involves working against someone else in order to get what we want.  It's the spiritual version of carrying a gun around.  Except that if we are able to manipulate God into doing something, then we think our hands and consciences are clean because whatever happens is God's will.

And yet, it is very honest to say that we often feel weak and incapable of confronting the challenges we face in life all on our own.  It can be a great comfort to think that something bigger and more powerful than us is on our side, standing against any people or circumstances that seem threatening to us.  We have bought into an identity of powerlessness, convinced of our smallness in a world of big dangers.  This is nothing more than fear gaining control of our thoughts, creating a perception of the world in which we need something superhuman to help us survive. 

The truth is that we do not need to be more powerful than other people.  We do not need any magical trinkets or magical formulas in order to manipulate an external power to work on our behalf.  What we need is within us and in the connections we have with other people.  We already have access to all the real power we could ever need.  It isn't a power that will grant our every superficial wish, but we have the power to be personally responsible for our lives.  The more we build our connection with our deepest, most noble selves and our connections with other people, the more we see the real spiritual power available to us.  We have the power to create, to nurture, to inspire, to heal -- the power to set aside self-centered fears and be present in the world.

This personal capability can be difficult to see through the belief that we are small and powerless.  When we believe that we need some sort of magical accoutrements to call upon some power outside of ourselves, we are essentially believing in our own weakness -- and that weakness is inherent in humanity.  Believing that we are weak gives us an excuse to be less than our most noble selves, and to expect the same from others.  But we are not weak.  We are not powerless.  Sure, we need one another.  We benefit from relationship.  This is a source of strength, not a sign of incapability.  We are capable of forging meaningful connection with ourselves and other people, but in order to do so, we must set aside the self-deprecating fears and beliefs that convince us of our own weakness.