Selfishness 2

We're in the midst of examining a criticism that "good" people don't focus on their own wants and needs, but focus on the needs and wants of others. Previously, we acknowledged that shame can cause us to think that we are not worthy of having our needs and wants met, and we asserted that if we want to be fully alive human beings, it's important for us to recognize the worthiness of our own vision for our lives and the world around us.

There are a couple of other points we need to consider from critics, however, including the belief that we harm other people by focusing on what we want -- essentially, that everyone cannot simultaneously have their wants and needs met. We should also address the argument that Jesus or some other legendary spiritual leader offers a model of self-sacrificial living. In fact, let's tend to that last point first and then move on to the idea that it costs someone else when we focus on what we most deeply want.

Throughout the history of some religious traditions, suffering has been equated with righteousness or worthiness. This began because the people who engaged in those religious practices were marginalized in their particular society, and they had to do something to explain their suffering in the face of a belief that they were set apart -- "chosen" by their god. Either their god was malicious or powerless, or there was some greater reason for their suffering as marginalized people. Even though some such religious traditions have become more powerful -- even oppressive -- practitioners often still cling to the idea that they are persecuted. Their persecution makes them like a beloved spiritual leader of mythology, and thus their suffering marks them as more holy -- chosen or set apart by their loving god who values their suffering for some reason.

The fact of the matter is that this coping mechanism creates tons more harm than well-being. Liberal and feminist theologians especially have written quite a bit on the damage done by the belief that suffering makes one more acceptable, lovable, or worthy in the eyes of a deity. Self-sacrifice can be a powerful gesture, but only when it is an intentional choice that one makes to nurture a system toward wholeness. Giving up one's personal safety, in and of itself, does not nurture anything. Choosing between what feels safe and what one actually wants for the world -- a personal creative life dream -- can be worth the risk. There is a big difference.

Even when one looks at the example of Jesus, for instance, the model of behavior is not self-sacrificial. There is an abundance of examples in the gospel narrative of Jesus going off by himself for solitude. He chooses to fast on occasion, but he never goes hungry when he actually needs to eat. He reprimands people who don't behave the way he wants them to, and he thinks highly enough of his own ideas that he challenges the rationale of religious authorities. He even chastises his disciples when they don't meet his needs or wants. There are moments in which the Jesus of the gospel narratives is downright arrogant, and there is no reason for us to criticize the self-assurance of someone who has conviction about what will bring wholeness to the world. The lessons of the teachings attributed to Jesus have little to do with self-sacrifice and lots to do with being aware of one's own power to transform one's own life and the lives of others.

Too often, believers seem to focus on one episode at the end of the story, in which religious and political leaders abuse their power with violent retribution toward a person who upsets the status quo. They invent in their heads a Jesus who could have resisted such power, making him a willing sacrifice rather than a victim of oppressive and fear-filled authorities. Yet this behavior is in contrast to the rest of the stories told about the life and actions of a bold and self-confident Jesus who is consistently willing to express what he wants people to do and how he wants people to think.

Anyone who includes self-sacrifice into their religious values is choosing to imagine that their own wants and needs are inconsequential, which is the same thing as denying their inherent worth and dignity. Some religious traditions thrive on telling people lies about being unworthy, unacceptable, and unlovable -- perhaps making their invented deity look all the more magnanimous for deigning to love such wretches. Do you know how people create wholeness when they think of themselves as inherently unworthy, unacceptable, and unlovable? They don't. Why would they? Their self-image is dominated by weakness and powerlessness. This image of humanity is flawed, fear-driven, and useless, except to those that like having an easy time manipulating the masses. That's the one thing to be said for teaching people that they are weak and worthless -- it makes them a lot easier to control.

Contrast that with people who believe in their own inherent worth and dignity -- who believe in their own capability and beauty and creativity. People who recognize personal responsibility in their lives ought also recognize that they have the power to wield that responsibility thoughtfully. This means taking the consequences of one's action into consideration. Powerless people don't have choices, but people who are willing to recognize their own power also recognize the ability to choose actions that nurture wholeness in their lives and the lives of those around them. Really, it's the people who live into an identity of being weak, unlovable, powerless, and unworthy who are harmfully self-indulgent.

There is something that gets in the way of creating wholeness, though, even for those people who recognize their own worth and power and responsibility. Fear. Just as shame convinces us of lies about ourselves, our fear gets in the way of living life as fully as we could. Our fear convinces us that we need certain things in order to be safe, or to prove how lovable or acceptable we are. And we wind up doing the things that placate our fear rather than doing the things we actually want most deeply. Most people don't ever think about what they want for their lives and the lives of those around them because they never get past thinking about what they have to do to be safe, or heard, or respected, or loved, or successful. We don't really know what we want more deeply because we never get past wanting to be free of our anxiety.

From this perspective, the criticism is absolutely true: Everyone cannot go about alleviating their fears without hurting anyone else. Focusing on our anxiety and trying to make it go away as quickly as possible almost always means we hurt someone else in the process. We also hurt ourselves. Letting fear control us is not the same as tending to what we most deeply want. We don't actually get what we most deeply want by indulging our fear. We need a way to get past our fear and anxiety, and get to the heart of what we really want for our own lives and for the world. And we need a way to know when it is our fear talking and when it is something deeper within us that longs for wholeness.

The criticism of selfishness really doesn't hold up when we consider the full implication of intentional people living with integrity to their deepest values. Certainly, when we think of the typical fearful behavior of human beings on reactive autopilot, self-indulgence is harmful. That isn't what we're talking about when we encourage living into a best possible version of oneself, or developing a meaningful creative life dream. If our passion is nurturing the world toward wholeness, we have to be competent at nurturing wholeness in our own lives. Respecting our own needs, valuing our own vision, caring for ourselves -- these are behaviors of personally responsible human beings, and it takes personally responsible human beings to create wholeness.

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.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

"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."

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

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 1: Being Comfortable with Ourselves and Pointing to Others

The next section of the gospel of John sets up the relationship between John the Baptist and Jesus. In John 1:19-34, we see a brief character sketch of John the Baptist before we are officially introduced to the character Jesus. Some scholars see evidence (in biblical and extrabiblical sources) that John the Baptist and Jesus had competing cults, and that eventually the Jesus cult received many of John's followers after John was executed. It is possible that John was the leader of a Mandaean sect. There are still some Mandaeans today in southern Mesopotamia, and they generally revere John the Baptist (among others) and reject Jesus of Nazareth. A significant Mandaic population in Iraq and Iran (tens of thousands of people) has dwindled in recent years due to war and religious persecution. If the Mandaic community and the new sect of Christianity were at odds with one another in the first century, it would provide some incentive for gospel writers to attempt to bridge that conflict in a way that placed their group in a superior position. Such a conflict, however, is largely conjecture at this point; the scant evidence that exists is only suggestive.

From just reading the story, we get an impression of the John the Baptist character, though. Here is a man of conviction, unafraid to stand up to the religious authorities of the predominant culture, and even impish enough to be a bit cryptic while he does it. John the Baptist reflects a person who knows himself, and isn't afraid of pointing the way to another leader or teacher. His rejection of the Pharisees is not simply a manifestation of authority issues or narcissism; he is willing to recognize true capability and wisdom when he sees it. This character sketch may have some value for us.

There are some other bits that make for a compelling story, but it would be rather fruitless to get too mired in details from a historical or factual perspective. There is simply too much time that passed between any actual events and the writing of this narrative, and there is no way to accurately guess what was going on in John the Baptist's mind. Did John refer to Jesus in such obsequious tones? Nobody can know, and it ultimately doesn't matter. Did John actually see a dove-like supernatural manifestation? Probably not, but he may have seen something that he interpreted as a supernatural event. Or he may have been having a heat stroke. Or he may have had other hallucinations that aren't recorded anywhere. Or he may have made things up to bolster his own identity as a mystic and to convince others of the veracity of his words. Other religious leaders have been known to do so. There's really no telling if any of this "actually" happened. It's a story. Let's take what we can from it and leave it at that.

So, this fellow John is the focus of these few paragraphs. He knows who he is, and he is presumably a capable leader of his sect (otherwise the Pharisees wouldn't care what he was doing). He is also able to see competence in others, and he is not intimidated by another capable leader. Quite the contrary--he recommends another capable leader to some of his own followers. He apparently does not base his own sense of personal value or identity on the behavior of other people. He doesn't base his self worth on people's reactions to him. He acts out of his own guiding principles and lets that be enough.

Some roles in our society require pointing to others. When a concert pianist performs a virtuosic solo, she shows up very differently from when she is accompanying a vocalist. In one instance, she is the star feature, and in the other she has a supporting role. It takes a slightly different set of musical skills to be an excellent accompanist. One has to be tuned into what the other performer is doing if one is to really collaborate in creating a musical experience. The same performer can be an excellent soloist and an excellent accompanist, but it requires a shift in attitude -- it requires showing up a little bit differently. I'm sure you can think of other roles that similarly require directing attention to others rather than to oneself.

We sometimes find ourselves in a roomful of people who want to be seen as capable, who want to be recognized as competent leaders. Often such people talk about themselves. A lot. They have an experience that relates to (and possibly trumps) whatever anyone else says. Or perhaps they have been down that road before and they have expert advice to share. We have all probably been in those conversations. Unfortunately, at some point in time, we have all probably been the person who wanted to share advice or who had a "better-than-you" story to tell.

Gaining a feeling of superiority and giving advice are reactions to the anxiety we feel when we want people to see us a certain way. This anxiety becomes particularly acute when we think that we might not actually be that competent, capable person we want people to see. When we are telling stories that trump other people's experiences or giving unsolicited expert advice (or doing anything else in an effort to seem better than somebody else), we are often trying to show up as somebody different than who we really think we are. We are trying to convince people of something about us, and perhaps we are not so convinced ourselves.

When we show up authentically, when we are honest about who we are and what we are capable of doing, people will notice. Part of this requires managing the anxiety that we feel when we want to be seen a certain way. For some people, it requires being visible -- showing up and being fully present rather than shrinking away from attention. Showing up authentically does not mean playing small any more than it means pretending to be more than we actually are. It means being honest about who we are and how we want to engage in the world.

John the Baptist (as he is portrayed here, at least) is an example of that sort of person. He is clear about how he wants to show up, and he seems to be relatively low-anxiety about that. He does his thing, and when another capable leader comes along, he acknowledges it. Now, John the Baptist may go a bit overboard in humiliating himself and propping up Jesus. No one needs the sort of boot-licking compliments that John the Baptist heaps on Jesus in this story. Compliments are nice, but people can be personally responsible for showing up authentically without us going off the deep end in our attempts to "sell" them to other folks. John saw something that impressed him about Jesus, though, and he wasn't threatened by it. He told other people that he saw something impressive without it needing to mean anything about John's capability.

Now, as we continue along in the story, we'll see that showing up authentically does not mean that everyone else is going to love you. Other people are still potentially wrapped up in their own anxiety, and their reactivity is out of our control. John the Baptist's authenticity gets him killed. Or maybe it is his lack of tact. We'll see. The point is that showing up authentically is not risk-free. The advantage is that we aren't pretending to be something different from who we really are. Knowing how we want to show up as a reflection of our deep values -- our guiding principles -- means that we give people an opportunity to see us more clearly. Some people will be attracted to that. Some people will be threatened by it. The real advantage is that we are at peace with ourselves -- that we have integrity. Who we are on the outside can reflect who we are on the inside.

Of course, the first trick to this is knowing ourselves better, and that requires managing our anxiety better. We all carry around fears and lies about who we are deep down inside, and how we think we have to show up so that no one sees the "truth" about us. We have to dismantle those fears and lies in order to be the people we most want to be. This story into which we're delving will point the way for some of this work.

For now, we can recognize that we don't need to be threatened by other competent, capable people. We can point to what impresses us about others without demeaning ourselves. (Are you listening, John the Baptist?) We don't need to trump other people's stories or give unsolicited advice in order to impress other people. When we show up reflecting the things that matter most to us, people will either be impressed or they won't. Our role is to live out of our deepest values.

A Little Experiment: The next time you are in a public setting, notice whether you are trying to be impressive or trying to compete with the people around you for attention or acknowledgment. If you're willing, try to relax into yourself and let go of that anxiety. Consider the possibility that you may not need to pretend to be something other than yourself in order to be seen the way you want to be seen.

Another Little Experiment: Be on the lookout for authentic people -- people who seem comfortable with themselves, who aren't giving unsolicited advice or trying to gain superiority through story-telling. Allow yourself to be impressed by other people's authenticity.

Mark 6:1-29: How Our Opinions of Other People Inform Our Actions (maybe more than they should)

In the beginning of Mark 6, Jesus returns to his hometown (which interestingly remains unnamed in the gospel of Mark) and people are not altogether enthusiastic about what he has to say. This is where we find the well-known quote, "A prophet is not without honor except in his own town." After that disappointing episode, Jesus sends his disciples out and tells them not to waste their time with people who won't listen. They are to shake the dust off their shoes and move on. This was a bit of an insult in the time, as if to say, "There is nothing here worth taking with me, not even the dirt." Next, we read a bit of a flashback regarding the circumstances under which Herod had John the Baptist beheaded. Essentially, he was seduced by his daughter (or step-daughter) into doing something he didn't particularly want to do. In these three stories, we find some interesting lessons about how we see other people, and how we choose whether to give other people power over us.

It's rather obvious why a prophet would have trouble in his hometown, among people who saw the individual grow up, get into trouble as a teenager, work a trade, and eventually abandon being a productive member of society to be an itinerant preacher, and a preacher unaffiliated with the state church at that. We make rather quick judgments about people, and the impressions we have of the people we know stick over time. It is as if we have taken a snapshot of an individual at a particular point in time, and whenever we interact with that individual, we rely on our snapshot rather than the current reality of who that person is. We don't always notice when people grow and change, because we have a rigid impression that becomes ingrained very quickly. It takes a bit of effort to see a person as they are and recognize every step of growth and progress they make in their lives. We don't necessarily want to understand people very deeply; we think we already do understand what a person is about based on the snapshot we keep in our mind.

Thus, when a person tries to kick an old habit or develop a new discipline, it's often the people who have known that person for a long time that present the greatest challenges. Maybe we don't actually want people to change all that much. When people change, it suggests that our reality is unstable--that we can't rely on things to remain as we expect them to be. Whatever the reason, we often have a difficult time hearing unexpected things from people who are most familiar to us. The reverse is also true: The people who have known us the longest are likely to have the hardest time hearing unexpected things from us. This does not mean that we should never change. Responsible, aware people will always be growing in some way, and growth necessarily translates as change at some level. Part of growth involves not basing our self-worth on other people's opinions, but rather on deeper, honest self-assessment based on an intentional set of guiding principles.

This is why the disciples were told to shake the dust off of their shoes and move on. There is often nothing to be gained by arguing one's point of view with someone who simply cannot hear what you have to say. An individual's inability to listen, however, reflects more about them than about you. The disciples would have done well to listen respectfully in addition to hearably presenting the truth as they saw it, but at the end of the day, if someone wasn't interested in the disciples' perspective, there was little value in sticking around.

It would be a mistake to extrapolate too much from that story, however. Some relationships are worth a bit of extra effort. Sometimes a person needs to see reliable, dependable behavior that reflects deeper convictions over time before becoming open enough to hear truth spoken clearly. Most of us can afford to give people multiple chances, otherwise we are relying on a snapshot of a person that may be inaccurate and obsolete as soon as we have filed it away. The important part is not that we write people off or dismiss those who disagree with us. The important part is that we do not base our deep guiding principles on whether other people agree with or accept us. People can ask some incredible questions that help us to sharpen and refine the principles on which we most want to base our actions, and they can challenge us in positive ways even if they don't agree with us. So, the goal is to be very clear with oneself so that one can connect with other people without placing demands on them or making assumptions about them.

Herod is an example of what happens when we do otherwise. By the biblical account, Herod was not a very secure individual. In fact, he was quite emotionally immature, often making decisions based on fear rather than on a grounded set of principles. When Herodias' daughter (named Salome in some other accounts) dances for Herod and his guests, he promises to grant her anything she desires. Even though he is intrigued by John the Baptist, he has the prophet executed because he was unwilling to tell the girl, "No." It is easy to imagine that Herod was experiencing a significant amount of anxiety in that moment, and in the many moments that followed. There are probably many things he feared would happen if he did not honor his promise. He sacrificed his own self-governance and abdicated personal responsibility instead of standing by a set of intentional principles.

We are capable of doing better than Herod, and in some ways, we may be in a position to do better than Jesus and the disciples. Jesus and his disciples did not keep visiting places over and over again and giving people second, third, or eleventh chances, and it is possible for a person with well-defined guiding principles to model a different way of being over and over again with the same individual or group. The goal, after all, is not to convince other people how they ought to live, but rather to fully inhabit our own lives -- to be the best versions of ourselves that we can be. This does not require anyone else's approval; it just requires our own willingness to grow. As we become more clear about who we want to be in the world, we will likely conflict with the snapshots that other people have of us. As we create the lives we most want, we are also likely to find that some of our own snapshots are outdated and inaccurate. We don't need to be afraid of seeing reality as it is. In fact, being honest about current reality is the only way to move forward into a vision of something better.

So, from this first portion of Mark 6 we learn not to base our self-image on the opinions of others, but to develop a set of deep guiding principles that will lead us toward the lives we most want to create. We learn that giving power to other people can lead us to make decisions that go against what we actually want to create in the world. And we learn that we cannot control other people's reactions to us; we can only control our own beliefs and actions. People have inherent value, but people's opinions are sometimes based on fears and falsehood rather than a deep sense of truth, beauty, and creativity. So, are your actions lining up with your guiding principles? How are you allowing other people to determine your sense of value? In what ways are you playing small because you fear what other people will say or think? What would it look like if you pushed past that fear and inhabited yourself more authentically?

Joshua 9-21: The Truth about Your Superiority Complex and the Fear that Fuels It

As we've mentioned, the book of Joshua was probably written by a collection of different authors at a much later time in Israel's history than the events described in the book.  As a part of the "Deuteronomistic history," this book (and the books that follow in the biblical structure) were most likely created to justify a shift toward monotheism and more prominent leadership role of the priesthood under King Josiah late in the 7th century BCE, with the book possibly being completed as much as a century later.  It's evident that the story being told in Joshua is that the Israelites, empowered by their faith, conquered a large swath of the area around the Jordan River, taking livestock, property, and riches from the cities and killing every man, woman, and child of nearly every kingdom they conquered.  In the parlance of our time, we call this genocide, but in the minds of the Israelites, this was simply claiming what God had promised them.  God was in fact instigator and accomplice in their violence, according to the book of Joshua.

Many of the stories that pepper the chapters on the distribution of land, as well as the tales of conquest, end with statements like, "And there they remain to this day."  This suggests that many of the stories were intended to explain a situation, like why a particular group of Israelites were granted access to a particular well, or why a certain group of foreigners/infidels/heathens became slave labor for the Israelites instead of being slaughtered outright.  The stories are not intended to question the status quo, but rather to justify it in a way that put any questions or objections to rest, much like a parental, "because I said so."  Since we are looking back from a different vantage point, we have the opportunity to see some things about the Israelites' self-identity that they may have been unable to see, on account of their immersion in the culture.  Perhaps we can even use such observations to gain a little perspective about our own worldviews.

There's no question that the Israelites thought of themselves as better than everyone else.  On the surface at least.  Their god was better than anyone else's god.  Their entitlement to property and buildings and livestock was more legitimate than anyone else's.  Even their lives were worth more than other people's lives.  Perhaps there was some kind of collective narcissism at work, much like what happens in today's world when extreme nationalism shoves aside any thought of treating other people humanely.  If we accept the narrative of the Bible as how the Israelites saw themselves, perhaps the vehement superiority was actually a defense mechanism for what they feared about themselves, that they were, at their core, slaves.

When we fear something about ourselves, we can go to great lengths to disprove that fear.  If we fear that we are worthless, we might do everything in our power to demonstrate to everyone how valuable we are.  If we fear that we are unlovable, we might do all manner of self-destructive things just to devour illusions of love from other people.  And if we believe that we are no better than slaves, powerless, worth less than "real" people?  We might go to great length just to show everyone just how powerful we can be.  And how worthless they are.  "It doesn't matter if we were slaves in Egypt.  We're so powerful we can take your cities and all of your stuff and kill every last one of you!  We're not weak and powerless.  You're the weak and powerless ones!"

Either way, the lie wins.  If we roll over and accept the lie, we live like we are worthless or unlovable or powerless or selfish or whatever our own personal lies may be, and we never work up the courage to look at the truth about who we are.  And if we defend ourselves against the lie, we go one step further and create a different lie about who we are.  We live like we are more than everyone else.  We miss the truth about who we are and the truth about the other people around us.  All because of fear.  People don't lay waste to a city and slaughter everyone inside unless they are afraid of something.  And in our lives, we don't dehumanize other people or ignore our own value and capability unless we have given in to fear.

Maybe it doesn't manifest as a superiority complex in your life, but for the Israelites, fear told them that they had to prove how powerful and right they were, and they overlooked the atrocities they committed because they marched under the banner of a righteous and perfect god who approved of their actions.  There was no group of people that the Israelites could accept as equals -- at least not in the book of Joshua.  Those they didn't slaughter, they made into slaves.  That's right.  The people whose cultural identity revolved around escaping slavery in Egypt accepted other people only under terms of forced labor.  The irony seems to have been lost on the writers of Joshua, but hopefully our ability to recognize it will alert us to similar ironies in our own lives.

So, the Israelites failed to see their own authentic value as human beings, failed to see other people's authentic value as human beings, committed genocide, stole property, and engaged in slavery, and they thought of all of this as being righteous because of a myopic religion, all the while failing to recognize that their behavior was fueled by fear.  They bolstered their cultural identity with some admirable traits as well.  When they made a promise, even if that promise was made because of a deception, they kept their word.  The Israelites placed great value on the vows they made.  (Just hang on to this little tidbit, since it will become much more important in the book of Judges.)  The writers of Joshua go to great lengths to detail how fairly the land was distributed.  And whether it was because of a fear that God (or someone representing God) would punish them or whether it was out of respect for one another, the Israelites seemed to treat each other like people of equal value, even if they were from different tribes.  We cannot stomach being "all bad" even when we justify a great amount of ugly behavior.  Somewhere inside of us there is a glimmer of our true selves that insists on being expressed.

The fear tells us that if we examine ourselves and really look deep into the core of who we are, that we will see something less than human.  That the lie will turn out to be true.  That we will really turn out to be vacuous, weak, unlovable, selfish, ugly.  But the lie only has power as long as we are afraid of it.  Confront the lie for what it is, and the fear can no longer govern our behavior.  The Israelites didn't have to be conquerors, murderers, looters, destroyers, or slavers, just as they didn't have to be weak, worthless, or enslaved.  But they believed that their only choices were very clear extremes.  That's what fear will do.


What fear are you ignoring?  What lies are you avoiding about your true nature?  Are you afraid that you are weak?  Stupid?  Worthless?  Unlovable?  What are you doing with those lies?  Giving in and living like you're something less than human?  Or fighting against it to prove the lie wrong?  Are you hurting other people just to show how powerful you are?  Are you hurting yourself just to show how lovable you are?  What is it that keeps you from embracing your identity as a beautiful, creative, capable, valuable, worthy human being?  Whatever it is, it's a lie. 

Here's a little secret: When you want to, you can look at any other person, no matter how much or how little you know about them, regardless of how they're behaving, and you can see the divine within them -- you can see a deep and undeniable value, beauty, and creativity that no amount of lies can destroy.  You can also just see the lies about who they think they are.  Or who you think they are.  What you see is your choice.  The same goes for yourself.  If you look for the truth within you, you will find a deep and undeniable worthiness, beauty, and creativity.  Or you can stop short and just see the lies.  What you see is your choice.  And what you do with what you see is your choice too.   

Deuteronomy 6: Love for the Divine (Expanding on the concept of valuing yourself)

Locating the character of the divine within oneself is not really a new concept.  The idea has been incorporated into the belief systems of other religions and philosophies, some of which are older than Christianity and evolved parallel to Judaism.  Still, some people have concerns about looking within because they are afraid they will be disappointed by what they find.  One writer stated that when he looked within himself, he found only selfishness -- that all of his relationships and activities revolved around what others could do for him.  He determined that there needed to be more to his life than this selfishness, and so he turned to the Christian church to find that something more.  My question would be: What informed the belief that there needed to be more than selfishness?  If one is only relying on what is within oneself, and one arrives at the conclusion that selfish behavior leads to a certain emptiness in life, mustn't one conclude that something within oneself contributed to that conclusion?  Something deeper than the surface level selfishness?

Different people will have different answers to that question, but what makes sense to me is that human beings are complex creatures and that one cannot merely glance within and gain a complete picture.  We have layers of thoughts and beliefs, and it requires a bit of work to truly be connected with oneself.  This is not all that different from what the writers of Deuteronomy wanted the Jewish people to understand.  It is a simple thing to say, "Love the Lord your God," but most people require a bit of guidance to put that command into practice.  Similarly, it is an easy thing to say, "Seek the divine within," but most people would actually appreciate a little more direction on that journey.  Deuteronomy 6 elucidates that command for the Israelites, so what follows is how I would update that chapter in light of a new understanding of the divine.  As the biblical chapter refers to the Ten Commandments in its opening line, I refer to the agreements from last week's discussion.


If you are willing to make these agreements with yourself, you stand a much greater chance of living a happy and satisfying life.  Cultivate respect for yourself and you will find it easier to respect others.  Love yourself and you will be better able to love others.  This requires constant awareness, and it can mean working through many false ideas that you've learned through the years.  Because there are many other voices and ideas in the world, you may find that you are reminding yourself of the truth about your value repeatedly.  This is not in any way a weakness; it's simply the process of recognizing a deep truth and beauty and creativity on which you haven't been very focused. 

This is what it takes to have confidence in honoring and valuing human beings (yourself included): Talk about the truth of human value whenever you have the chance, whether in the privacy of your own home or walking about in public.  Put up visual reminders of this truth in your home, your car, your office, and wherever else you spend time, so that you will constantly be drawn back to the reality of your worth and the worth of the people around you.  And if you teach your children to value, honor, and respect themselves and other people, they will have a much easier time living meaningful lives as adults.

Be grateful for what you have.  Recognize the benefits in your life that came about because of the generosity of others, and acknowledge the things you have created yourself.  When you are grateful, it is much more difficult to be distracted by petty disappointments, by superficial comparisons, or by pangs of entitlement that tempt you to place your value above that of other people.  When you are grateful, it is much easier to see the value of other people, to be generous with what you have, and to be connected to yourself, other people, and the world.  In short, gratitude makes life more satisfying. 


Trust yourself.  Even when you make a misstep, trust yourself to be able to improve upon it.  Test the beliefs that other people try to instill in you, and weigh cultural concepts against the truth of human value.  Our creativity can be a double-edged sword, because we can create all manner of distractions away from the reality of our own intrinsic value.  It's tempting to focus on acquiring money or things, to concentrate on what makes some people "better" than other people, or to shift personal responsibility for our lives away from ourselves.  These lines of thinking will never help us to realize our full potential.  Trust yourself to be able to see your own worth and the value of the people around you.  If you see something less than that in the behavior and beliefs you've adopted, look deeper.  At the core of your being is undeniable and connecting truth, a deep sense of beauty, and inspiring creativity.  It's at the core of all of us, even if we have covered it up with other things.  Trust yourself to find it within you.

Deuteronomy 4-5: Rewriting the Ten Commandments and Making a Covenant with Ourselves

Deuteronomy, the "second law" (or the second telling of the agreement between the Israelites and God), imagines Moses speaking to the Israelites as they are about to enter the Promised Land, recounting their decades-long journey and reminding them of their spiritual identity as a community.  As such, it contains some passages that read like pep-talks, and it is repetitious of information that was conveyed in previous books.  Deuteronomy 4 is one passage in which Moses tells the Israelites why their god is the best god ever, and in many ways, he's right.  Their concept of spiritual identity was indeed different from many cultures of their time.  The writers of Deuteronomy also knew that by referring back to people who had supposedly been eye-witnesses to certain impressive events, later generations would be more likely to take that spiritual identity seriously.  It's why some people believe in ghosts or alien abductions.  Eyewitness accounts build credibility.

Out of this chapter, the passage on idolatry is of particular interest.  When we read about the golden calf episode before, I wrote about our desire to worship things outside of ourselves.  If you missed it, here's a link.  Even once we get more comfortable with ascribing worth to ourselves, there will be moments of self-doubt.  Moses reassures the Israelites that even if they are driven away and wind up carving little wooden idols for themselves, when they determine to earnestly look for God, they will find him.  Spiritually speaking, this is a truth that bears repeating, or rephrasing at least.

If you should find that spark of divinity within yourself -- if you should recognize that deep truth, undeniable beauty, and intentional creativity -- and then later be overcome with doubt and look for something outside of yourself to place above you, it's alright.  You haven't really lost anything, and the divine character within you will be there when you determine to recognize it again.  It may get easier for you to see the more you connect with it, but it isn't something you can lose.  You can't make yourself worthless.

Which brings us to the Ten Commandments.  Jesus is recorded as rephrasing these commandments in a more positive light: Essentially, love God and love one another.  The apostle Paul reiterates in his letters that to love others is to fulfill the law.  It's hard to disagree with that.  The Ten Commandments were likely influenced by Hittite and Mesopotamian treaties between lords and vassals, and they contain some of the moral absolutes that human cultures of every faith and creed have accepted to a certain degree, concepts regarding the value of human life and the sanctity of personal property.  The Ten Commandments were in theory a pact between God and the Israelites, but in practical terms they were a pact between the Israelites and themselves.  They were saying, in essence, "We agree to abide by these laws in order to have a unified and sustainable culture."  I'm not saying that they didn't believe in God.  I'm just clarifying the practical reality of their agreement.

We have many laws in our culture, too.  Some of them are based on the same concepts about the value of human life and property.  Acknowledging the Ten Commandments as the model of the American legal code is hotly debated from time to time when someone becomes offended that they are displayed at a courthouse somewhere.  Instead of getting into the practical matters of legal code, though, it seems most appropriate for this venue to approach the Ten Commandments from a perspective of what can be spiritually reclaimed.

Slightly out of order, some of the commandments are covered by the idea that we will be generally happier people if we respect others, or love others if you prefer.  We cannot honor others and still lie about them, steal from them, or otherwise betray their trust.  When we are willing to recognize the universality of human value, we also recognize that we do damage to our own identities when we devalue others.  We are not above anyone else, so we are not entitled to dehumanize anyone else.  Honor and respect other people, and murder, adultery, theft, and false testimony become non-issues.

Coveting other people's possessions, relationships, or circumstances is not so much about devaluing another person as it is about devaluing ourselves.  Be aware of what you have in your life.  Acknowledge your ability to create a life focused on what matters most to you.  Cultivate gratitude, and it won't be as tempting to compare what you have with what other people have.  When you are grateful for your own life, it becomes easier to celebrate with other people rather than resent them.

Honoring one's mother and father is also good advice, if a bit vague.  One must eventually think for oneself, and it can be debilitating to base every thought on what Mommy and Daddy think.  That being said, parental wisdom is going to be an inevitable guiding force as a person develops.  The relationship perhaps bears a bit more emphasis than other human relationships because of the sacrifice inherent in raising a child.  It can be humbling to consider the choices parents make on our behalf.  Having an even softer and more gracious heart toward the people that chose to make sacrifices for our benefit is powerfully connecting.

Not all parents are willing to make sacrifices, though.  Not all parents make choices for the benefit of their children.  Although they may be few and far between, some parents are dangerous to their children in one way or another.  There is no obligation for us to bring ourselves into harm's way.  Exercise wisdom and be as understanding as you can be.  Be grateful for the gift of life if nothing else, and honor their humanity even if a close relationship seems harmful.  The relationship is not more important than your well-being.

The first four commandments are the ones that are focused on spiritual things rather than our relationships with other people.  In my post-Christian thinking, I place these philosophically closer to the bit about coveting because they are more about how we view ourselves than they are about how we treat other people.  To begin with, recognize your worth and your capability.  We've already revisited our tendency to find something outside of ourselves to worship.  The truth is that we can find that worthiness within ourselves if we are willing to look there.  Remember that there is nothing that you can do to make yourself worthless.  Instead of placing other people or things or concepts above yourself and ascribing more value to them than you ascribe to yourself, become aware of how people and things and concepts work in cooperation with one another.  Nothing is more worthy than you, and you are not more worthy than anyone else.  Some people may have certain abilities that you lack, and you have some abilities that other people lack.  That offers us opportunities to connect and co-create.

This concept of self-worth is at the heart of this endeavor, so it will come up again.  It isn't a switch to be flipped.  It's a journey, a process.  It takes time and intention.  For this reason, the concept of a Sabbath is a powerful tool.  If we do not know ourselves and understand ourselves, we cannot hope to create truly fulfilling lives.  It is important for us to set aside time -- sacred time that we prioritize -- to tap into that center of truth and beauty and creativity within us.  It doesn't have to be a whole day every week, but consistent time set aside to engage with ourselves is how we learn to see the depth of our own value, and consequently recognize that quality in everybody else.  It's tempting to find ways to numb ourselves to the things we don't like about our lives or to remain so busy bouncing from one thing to another that we never have to take a look within ourselves.  You don't have to be afraid of what you'll find there.  There may be layers of lies or negative beliefs about yourself to sort through, but if you go looking for connection, for beauty, for creativity, you will find it.

So, a suggested "covenant" we can make with ourselves, understanding that if we fall short or make a mistake that we can forgive ourselves and try again:


1. Recognize the deep truth, genuine beauty, and intentional creativity within you.

2. Value yourself as much as every other human being, and more than external things and concepts.

3. Prioritize time for self-examination to become more adept at seeing the truth, beauty, and creativity within yourself (and in other people).

4. Acknowledge the close relationships in your life and the sacrifices that other people have made on your behalf.

5. Honor and respect other people -- all people regardless of their culture or beliefs.

6. Be grateful for your life and celebrate what you have.

Exodus 32-33: Golden Calves and Undeniable Access to the Divine

Those who assume that the Bible tells things chronologically with infallible accuracy must draw some strange conclusions about the events of Exodus 32-33.  The Israelites are either outright liars, fickle with their word, or they have the brains of carrots.  A few chapters back, Moses told them all what God wanted them to do, and all the Israelites agreed to it.  Aaron was there, along with all the other Israelite leaders.  Then, Moses went off to get the stone tablets God was carving for him, which took about 5 weeks.  In that span of time, the Israelites, with cooperation from Aaron, forgot what they had promised and made a golden calf to worship.

As Aaron tells the story, the Israelites were evil-hearted from the start.  They didn't know what had happened to Moses, and they wanted Aaron to make some gods to go before them, so Aaron told them to take off all their jewelry, which he threw into the fire and -- Voila! -- out came a statue of a calf.  That was apparently a god the Israelites could relate to and worship for a few weeks before they got distracted by something else.

Well, Moses was so angry that he broke the stone tablets he had spent so much time carving, melted down the golden idol, ground the gold into powder, scattered it in the water supply and made the Israelites drink it.  Then he ordered the Levites to kill 3,000 of their fellow Jews.  That's less than 1% of the total Israelite population as the Bible records it, but it's still a hell of a violent streak. Back in Genesis, Jacob had this to say about Levi and his descendants:

"their swords are weapons of violence.
 Let me not enter their council, let me not join their assembly,
for they have killed men in their anger and hamstrung oxen as they pleased.
Cursed be their anger, so fierce, and their fury, so cruel!
I will scatter them in Jacob and disperse them in Israel."

Moses was apparently more comfortable with their genetic propensity for violence.


The story is illustrative of a big issue, obviously.  We want something concrete to believe in.  Even when we believe we know the divine on some level, we still want something tangible.  People (both in and out of the church) worship all sorts of things: money or the accumulation of personal possessions, fame or acknowledgment, physical pleasure, power over other people, political favor -- the list could go on and on.  Very few people sincerely worship an intangible, invisible force that epitomizes unconditional love for all, which is how the Christian god is often portrayed.  Even the Israelite god in Exodus was closer to a Greek deity with human emotions and weaknesses, as we'll see in just a moment.

First, though, let's consider what worshiping external things really says about us psychologically.  The idea of worship literally means that one is attributing worth to something.  To worship a thing is to proclaim its worthiness.  And when we truly worship something, a part of us is committed to the belief that whatever we're worshiping is worthy of our total effort, adoration, gratitude -- the fullness of who we are.  It's why some people who worship success become workaholics and why some people who worship fame do incredibly stupid things just for the attention it will garner.  Our perception isn't always healthy.  It can't be completely healthy when we are looking outside of ourselves for a target to which we can attribute value.

We are terribly uncomfortable with the idea that we ourselves are worthy of anything, that we have value.  It's a bit of a burden for some people.  If you are worth something, then you have to live up to that somehow.  If you have value, then you have to maintain that value.  As if you have to keep proving your worthiness to yourself, and potentially to everybody else.  So we look to something outside of ourselves so we don't have to look inward and potentially face the fear that we are, at the end of the day, valueless.  That we do not even approach worthiness.  Much better to find something tangible that we can target.  Money.  Titles.  Golden calf.
 
What's very interesting about the Exodus story is that God tells Moses that he needs to take those people away.  They need to get on the road, and God will send an angel ahead of them to clear their enemies away.  If the Israelites wait around, God may not be able to control his anger at this whole idolatry business, and he just may destroy them all.  And God can't travel with them, because he is so angry that he'd just kill them en route.  But when Moses pleads with him, God changes his tune rather quickly.  Actually, Moses' pleading comes across as a bit manipulative and demanding, but the point is that it doesn't ultimately matter what Moses or the Israelites do, the divine presence won't abandon them. 

This suggests a deep truth about the character of the divine: It cannot be separated from us.  Even when we have acted in ways that betray that divine nature within us, when we have pursued things that do not lead us to satisfaction or happiness or peace, there is no chance that we will be abandoned by our divine nature.  We cannot ultimately blot it out or eradicate it.  The divine is a part of who we are, even if we decide to use some external imagery to relate to it. 

People who recognize that there is nothing earthly that is truly worth that level of devotion sometimes find solace in the concept that there is something bigger, something beyond our complete perception, watching over us and guiding us.  That there is someone who has taken care of all our mistakes -- covered over our unworthiness.  Certainly that figure is worthy.  That person is valuable enough to be worshiped.  That person surpasses all that any human being could hope to be, especially us.  And thus the stories and the beliefs and the mythology is born.  Because we crave some source of meaning, and we are too afraid to look within to find it. 

We build golden calves and mythologies because we crave some source of meaning, and we are too afraid to look within to find it.

Stop being afraid to look within yourself.  There is nothing you need to do to have value.  You simply are valuable.  You are worthy of your highest level of commitment because you are you.  The divine is a part of who you are, inseparable and yet deep enough to run the risk of being overlooked.  There is no amount of money or fame or drugs or charity or sermons or political action or Communion that can truly overshadow the profound value and worthiness of being you.  You are worth your best effort.  You do not need to use any adornments to shield yourself from any ugly truth about who you are.  That fear is a lie.  You are worthy.  Period.