Mark 14: How to Build (and how not to build) Friendships

Every gospel that was approved for inclusion in the Bible has a version of Jesus' arrest in a garden. The gospel of Matthew copies Mark in specifying the garden as a place called Gethsemane. The gospel of Luke indicates the Mount of Olives, and it is believed that the garden Gethsemane was at the foot of the Mount of Olives. The legend of Jesus' arrest is varied in a few details from one telling to the next, but the event is obviously an important piece of the Passion narrative. The version in the gospel of Mark is the one we'll focus on here.

The second half of this passage is narrative. Judas, one of the inner circle of disciples and a member of a Jewish Zealot sect, betrays Jesus to Jewish authorities, who show up with a lynch mob. One of the disciples draws steel and cuts off the ear of a high priest's slave (a story that becomes elaborated as it is retold in other gospels), and Jesus is arrested. Jesus reprimands the authorities for their cowardice, but he does not resist them. His disciples scatter, one of them fleeing naked into the night. (This story, incidentally, does not make it into other gospel accounts.) One can draw personal meaning from this narrative, but frankly it is easier to find value in the elaborations of this story as it appears in Matthew and Luke. What value there is in the tale about accepting reality, experiencing abandonment (or being the one who abandons another), and personal integrity we can also draw from the first half of this passage, the time in the garden before Judas and the authorities arrive.

When Jesus takes three of his closest disciples and spends some moments in solitude at the olive press (this is what gethsemane means), he seems to realize that things are coming to a head. He has said and done too much to be ignored by the Jewish temple authorities, who are relatively comfortable with their arrangements in the Roman empire and are not keen on upstart messiahs (of which there were many in the first century). In the story, Jesus is agitated and restless, but his companions seem unconcerned. Jesus is having a hard time accepting reality at the moment; his disciples are just oblivious.

Asking for a cup to pass or to be removed is essentially asking to be spared from one's fate, or to be spared the consequences of one's actions. Although prayer is often thought of as a way of communicating with an external supernatural, prayer is actually a way of communicating with oneself. This understanding of prayer holds despite the fact that it isn't reflected in the way some people pray or the expectations some people have of their prayers. Jesus is thus connecting with a deep part of himself, and inquiring (with great emotion) whether there is any way out of the trajectory he has set in motion.

How often do we resist reality, either by rejecting our own circumstances or trying to control other people? We are (fortunately) only able to control our own actions, beliefs, and decisions. Yet, all of us experience situations that we dread or just don't like, and in those times, we often become anxious and upset. We make demands that reality shift to something we would prefer. We insist that other people change what they are doing, in order to alleviate our anxiety. We insist that someone change our circumstances, and when it seems humanly impossible, we plead with or yell at a supernatural. Despite all the energy and passion we pour into this anxiety, our forward motion can only resume when we accept reality for what it is and determine to work with our circumstances rather than against our circumstances. This doesn't mean we can't change our circumstances; it does mean that we have to be honest about where we are starting if we want to make meaningful changes.

Ultimately, Jesus determines that there is no way to reject reality, and that his deepest, most noble self requires him to maintain integrity to the same principles he has held throughout the story. He cannot escape into the darkness and become a fugitive, and still remain faithful to himself. Meanwhile, his best friends are falling asleep. In his time of greatest anxiety and agitation, his closest companions can't keep their eyes open. After waking them up a few times, the story suggests that Jesus gets fed up and acquiesces to his impending arrest. The disciples are not intentionally insensitive to their teacher and mentor; they just don't seem to understand the magnitude of the moment. And why should they? They are characters in a story that is unfolding. We don't know what major events will wind up being important turning points in our lives until after the fact. The disciples in the story are no different.

Still, it's hard to feel cared for when people seem unimpressed with your agitation, and it's frustrating for someone to be agitated when you can't quite understand the problem. Once the mob shows up, we see that the disciples haven't really learned all that much from following Jesus around. One of them cuts off a slave's ear, and all of them run from the scene instead of sticking with their leader. Self preservation is a powerful motivator in times of high anxiety.

For people who hold Jesus up as a superhuman, nearly omniscient savior, it would be difficult to ask what he could have done differently. As people who can accept that the Jesus myth is a story from which we might learn something about the way we relate to ourselves and others, we can potentially see room for improvement in Jesus' behavior. This is not to critique the story, but to see how we might correct some possible missteps in our relationships with others.

First of all, Jesus has never asked for care from his disciples, and now suddenly he wants them to care for him by staying up with him in his agitation. We also might expect people to read our minds and know what we want and how they can provide it, even though many of us are not really good at asking for what we need or want in our relationships. If we want to cultivate mutually meaningful relationships, we have to be vulnerable enough to let people know what we want and need, and we have to be willing to listen when other people express what they want and need. It's obvious that the disciples were unaccustomed to Jesus really needing or wanting anything personally, and when he finally needed them to come through as friends, they were completely unprepared.

So, secondly, we cannot exist as islands. Even if we are highly skilled and capable individuals, none of us can experience holistic well-being without meaningful relationships with other people. We need community. We need connection. Sometimes, it might be more important to let other people do things that we could do for ourselves, just to establish and reinforce the human connection we need.

Third, it never pays to keep things from people who are important to us. We might think that we are strong enough to carry the burden of our secret fears and anxieties, but we only set ourselves up for frustration when we keep to ourselves the things that most concern us. Based on the reactions that he was getting from certain powerful people, and given that he knew Judas' intentions, Jesus had quite a bit to be concerned about. That his closest friends didn't really get it suggests that they were either dumber than dirt, or that Jesus hadn't really allowed them to share his burden. When we are most fearful and anxious is when we most need other people -- not so that they can become anxious with us, but so they can help us gain perspective, so they can communicate that we are not alone. Sometimes all we really need is for someone to stay up with us and remind us that they care about us.

Which leads to a fourth lesson: We need equality in our relationships. If one person is always staying up late and comforting the other, there is an imbalance in the relationship that might not be able to withstand the test of time. Although the gospel narratives never depict Jesus staying up late to comfort the disciples when they are anxious, it's fair to say that there is a certain imbalance to the relationship dynamics as they are presented. When we ask other people to meet some of our needs, it's important that we are willing to hear what they need from the relationship as well. This means that we have to be committed to growing in our emotional maturity, becoming (as much as we are able) a non-anxious presence in the midst of stressful circumstances. The point of relying on other people is not that we give ourselves permission to be immature and anxious all the time, but that we recognize that, even as we grow and develop toward the best possible versions of ourselves, we can't do everything alone.

In this story, Jesus is an exemplar of making a difficult adjustment into alignment with reality and acting with integrity to one's deepest most noble self. He also provides an example of what not to do in terms of the friendships we cultivate. We have to trust others and foster mutual vulnerability if we want meaningful relationships. As we build meaningful, balanced relationships, we learn that it is in community with other people that we truly understand our values and guiding principles. It is in relationship with others that we come to envision the best possible version of ourselves.

Mark 7:24-37: When Prejudice Gets in the Way of Values

People often concoct a pleasingly dishonest image of those they admire. We often have a hard time thinking of our heroes or idols as flawed. So, when Jesus comes off as a bit of a bigot in Mark 7:24-30, it may be tempting to explain it away, but defending Jesus here might miss a bigger spiritual truth.

Here is the story, in a nutshell: The character of Jesus wants to have some time to himself, and instead he is accosted by a foreign woman -- a non-Jew who has heard of him. This woman begs Jesus to heal her daughter; the woman believes she is possessed by an evil spirit. Jesus dismisses her, calling her a dog, compared to the more valuable children of Israel. Then the woman does something rather impressive; she stands up to Jesus and challenges his prejudice. Jesus acquiesces, heals her daughter, and sends the woman home.

People wishing to protect an impression of Jesus as a sacred or holy figure have interpreted this exchange in a variety of ways. Maybe Jesus was just testing the woman, thus people must be persistent in begging God for what they want. It is as if to say that you have to want something badly enough to be nuisance in order for God to pay attention to you. There is actually another parable that supports this idea. The version of this story that is told in the gospel of Matthew, however paints Jesus in an even worse light. He ignores the woman at first, and then makes the interpretation of his metaphor about throwing children's food to dogs very clear. She doesn't deserve his help because she's not Jewish.

Recognizing that this exchange may never have happened, or that it may have transpired differently than gospel authors preserved it, the best means of extracting something useful from the story is to take it at face value. There is no way for any person to even confirm the existence of the Jesus depicted in the gospel narratives, so it would be rather presumptuous to assume to know the thoughts of a person from another culture and another time. While it may say something embarrassing about human nature, it is better to be honest than to protect a character who doesn't need protecting.

Try as we might, we are not color-blind or culture-blind. We make judgments about people, whether we want to or not. We assume things based on appearances, and we often act based on our assumptions. We have to. There is no way that we could ever have all of the information necessary to make a completely informed decision, much less know everything about another human being's character, beliefs, tendencies, desires, weaknesses, and strengths. We have to operate on assumptions to a certain extent. Being aware that we are making assumptions, however, can be helpful.

Like the character of Jesus in this story with the Phoenician woman, we are prone to taking one look at people and deciding whether we want to have anything to do with them. To be blunt, we often assess in a split second whether or not another person has any value to us. A lot of folks, we may write off as dogs not worthy of any meaningful attention. Some of us may write off people who are from different cultures, who look different from us, who have different income brackets or different lifestyles -- we may write people off for things we invent about them with no concrete information.

Sometimes people will challenge us, like the Phoenician woman challenged Jesus in the story. They may challenge us directly, or we may be challenged by something a person says or does that flies in the face of our assumptions. When that happens, we have an opportunity to rethink, to tap into our actual values and guiding principles, and to shift our behavior into alignment if necessary.

Sometimes, though, we have to challenge ourselves. People may not have the opportunity to challenge our assumptions, and even when we do give people that opportunity, we often make it difficult for them. Once we have made up our minds, we like to stay rooted. So, if we want to be really sharp about this, we have to learn to challenge ourselves. When we notice our assumptions and judgments and prejudices getting in the way of who we actually want to be in the world -- drowning out our actual values and deep guiding principles -- we have the option of changing. We can choose to allow deeper truths to inform our actions rather than allowing our assumptions, prejudices, and fears to hog to driver's seat.

We will sometimes be wrong. Sometimes, people will live up to our worst assumptions about them, even when we are trying to let go of those assumptions. The question is whether we want to be the kind of people who assume the worst about people or whether we believe in something more important than that. If we believe that all people have value, for instance, we have a choice about whether we look for that value in people or whether we look for reasons to dismiss them as mangy mutts that don't deserve our attention. We can actually have a greater positive impact in other people's lives and on the world we share when we choose to truly see people as human beings with undeniable worth and dignity -- and when we do that, we also become better embodiments of our own dignity and worth.

Mark 7:1-23: Giving Up Righteousness in Favor of Connection

Returning to the gospel narrative of Mark, we find the character of Jesus confronted by his caricaturish nemeses, "the Pharisees and teachers of the law." As one would expect, Jesus not only repels their accusation, but turns their words and behavior back on them and sends them away soundly rebuked. The Pharisees in first century Judaism were something of a political party, religious sect, and social movement. They were often in conflict with the Sadducees, who were more aristocratic, largely controlled activities at the temple, and were cooperative with the Roman government. Although neither sect represented a majority of Jewish people, the Pharisees were more connected to the interpretation of Jewish spirituality in everyday life, and were thus more connected to the people than the elite Sadducees. After the destruction of the temple in 70 CE, it was the thinking of the Pharisees that most contributed to Rabbinic Judaism, which was the basis for most modern iterations of Judaism.

In the particular episode reflected in Mark 7:1-23, the Pharisees are challenging Jesus based on their understanding of purity laws. Through highly ritualized daily practices, the Pharisees kept their spiritual identities at the forefront of their thought, infusing all that they did with spiritual meaning. That was the idea, at least. Unfortunately, as the author of Mark points out, living a highly stylized life can leave something to be desired in terms of human value and ethics. The Pharisees advocated allowing people to withhold wealth and possessions from needy family members if that wealth was dedicated to the temple. It was a loophole that allowed people to excuse themselves from taking care of their families, and also allowed the church to accumulate wealth when those people died. In the meantime, people kept enjoying the "dedicated" resources. It was a system that fed into people's greed, which is just a specific kind of fear.

When the Pharisees challenged Jesus based on the fact that he didn't engage in all of the ceremonial behaviors they advocated, he levied this matter of Corban against them to demonstrate their hypocrisy. This was just one facet of a larger picture, however. Ultimately, the author of Mark suggests that the entire worldview of the Pharisees was skewed. Living in accordance to a personal code of purity does nothing to connect one to other people or to oneself. There are no bonus points in life for being borderline obsessive-compulsive about hand-washing. What actually matters is what one does with one's time and energy.

Brought into focus for the twenty-first century, the author of Mark is saying that it doesn't matter if you go to church, contribute to charities, pray before your meals, put the right bumper stickers on your car, read a devotional every morning, or engage in any other "spiritual" behaviors that ultimately might just make you feel good about yourself. What matters is what we do in the world, how we treat the people around us, what kind of a difference we make in other people's lives -- our fruit. All of the spiritual disciplines or holy habits that people might engage in can be fertilizer, but what matters most is what we produce in the practical realities of our lives. If we don't bear any meaningful fruit, all we've really got is a ton of fertilizer.

So, rather than pride ourselves in how well-behaved we are or how well we have colored inside the lines of our lives, our focus could be on how we respond to the opportunities we have to connect with other people and make a difference in the world -- even if that difference only seems to directly impact one other person. Helping one person's day go more smoothly might actually have a greater ripple effect than we will ever realize. But if we go through our lives willing to help one person's day go more smoothly, we are going to wind up having a positive impact on more than one person.

Being connected to ourselves is important too; we need time for introspection and we operate best when we are aware of our deep guiding principles. Those things are empty, however, if they never feed into an outward expression of the kind of people we most want to be in the world. We have the potential to create a world that is characterized by justice, equity, and compassion. It just requires being intentional about what we do, and perhaps shifting our focus away from being righteous and toward being connected.

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?

Mark 4:35-5:43: If Someone Started Handing Out Miracles, Everybody Would Want To Be First in Line

The miracle stories in the gospels reflect many myths about healers and miracle workers in the ancient world. For instance, close parallels to the gospel accounts can be found in the legends of a Greek demigod of healing, Asclepius. The symbol associated with Asclepius is a serpent coiled around a staff, which is similar enough to the "caduceus" of Hermes (two serpents coiled around a winged staff), that many North American medical practitioners have mistakenly adopted the caduceus as a symbol of healing. Hermes, incidentally, was a protector of merchants, thieves, and liars, but we need not read too much into an honest mistake of the medical community. Asclepius, on the other hand, was a supernatural healer who traveled around performing the kinds of miracles we read of Jesus performing in chapter 5 of the gospel of Mark. In fact, various bits of mythology about Asclepius suggests that raising people from the dead got him killed at the hands of another god who was upset about the healer's intervention.

The comparison to Asclepius is particularly relevant because the gospel stories so closely resemble tales of this Greek figure, but every human culture has stories about miracles and magic. We have always been fascinated with stories that suggest the possibility that a loved one could be brought back from the dead, or be inexplicably healed when all seemed lost. Many stories even suggest the penalties or curses that must accompany tampering with the natural order of things. We are still drawn to tales about individuals who can perform miraculous or magical feats, perhaps because there is a part of us all that longs for the ability -- or at least to know someone with the ability -- to defy the natural order of things on our behalf. We want to be exceptional, or at least well liked by someone who is exceptional.

People everywhere have these stories, and yet so often we get wrapped up in which stories are truth and which are fiction. Today, no one actually believes that there is a sun god Apollo, much less that he had a half-human son who went around performing miracles until his beneficent actions crossed a line that worried Hades, god of the underworld. Some of those who insist that any tale of Asclepius must be patently false would believe the story, however, if the names were changed a little bit. Tell any story of Asclepius and substitute the name "Jesus," and suddenly the miracle story seems more believable. This is a rather remarkable phenomenon, actually. Instead of recognizing how much people everywhere long to be exempt from the natural order of things, some people insist that they are, in fact, exempt from the natural order of things.

Here is something to consider: If every culture has stories about magic and miracles, and we do not witness any magic or miracles on the scale of these folktales, then perhaps all these stories say more about human culture than about any specific miracle worker. "But miracles do still happen!" Sure, if you want to shift the qualification of a miracle to "something I didn't expect," then we have modern-day miracles. However, none of the "miracles" we might see in the world today are on the scale of these mythological stories of Jesus, Asclepius, and others. We have lowered the bar on what constitutes a miracle, perhaps, but this also says a great deal about our longing to ignore the complexities of the natural world in order to consider ourselves in some way exempt, special, important, or even powerful.

After all, why do people believe that God will answer their specific prayers? Is it not because they believe that they are in some way special? More beloved, more important, more powerful than other people? Perhaps some people actually expect that God will defy the natural order of things for anyone who prays sincerely, but most people are keen enough to realize that this would mean God could favorably answer the prayers of people they don't like -- or that God could potentially be faced with sincere yet contradictory prayers. In other words, there would be no natural order of things if God disrupted the natural order of things in response to everyone. Which means that, if God works miracles for anyone at all, some people must be special, set apart, chosen, better than everyone else. At some level, we all want to be exceptional enough that someone considers us worthy of being exempt from the natural order of things.

Miracle stories are wonderful tales that can grant us insight into the things we want and fear most. When we begin to insist that they are factual accounts, and that we can realistically expect the same sorts of results in our own lives or the lives of people around us, we miss the point. Religious justification keeps us disconnected from reality and from the people with whom we share this world. We are all the same, at the end of the day. Whether one believes in God or not, mature wisdom will lead one to reconcile faith with the reality that everyone fears sickness and death to some extent, and everyone is attracted to some sort of story that suggests that sickness and death -- even the weather -- can be overcome. Tales of boy wizards or fantastic stories of Middle Earth touch on this very thing. We want to believe that someone we are exceptional enough to be free of pain. If the miraculous is possible, then perhaps we can be the beneficiaries. Isn't that better than not believing in the miraculous at all?

Actually, no. Recognizing that the unexpected can happen is a brilliant way to bear witness to the wonder and complexity of nature. Belief in the truly miraculous, though, usually comes with a set of false expectations about life. When we are honest, we realize that people are all pretty much the same. No one is more worthy of a miracle than anyone else. We are responsible for our own well-being. We must care for ourselves in a way that does not consider an "escape hatch" miracle to be a plausible way of handling our lives. We must bear our grief and our pain, and hopefully we can do so in connection with other people. There will be pain, and no one is exceptional enough to avoid it. And while it is comforting to believe in an afterlife, we do not have any convincing evidence that people experience anything at all after the brain shuts down. Quite the opposite, actually. We know with certainty that we have this life, though. If there are no miracles in store for us, and we may have just a brief time in this life to experience all that we can, learn all that we can, and love all that we can, let's do that.

If we truly live our deepest intentions and do all that we can to make this world a better place, then we will actually be quite exceptional. But it still won't mean anyone's worth more than anybody else.

Dismantling Fear of Same-Sex Marriage

Today and tomorrow, the Supreme Court is hearing testimony on a couple of cases which will influence the rights of homosexual couples, and thus some conservative Christian alarmists are casting aside the example set by the biblical character of Jesus to voice their profoundly irrational fears on the subject. If these individuals are to be believed, the fate of the country hangs in the balance between the issues of marriage for homosexual couples and reproductive rights for women. Among other tactics, some of these representatives of Christianity are publicly praying for God's will to be done, sowing the seeds of fear through absurd slippery slope arguments, encouraging civil disobedience, and appealing to an antiquated perspective of sinfulness as a basis for modern-day legal decisions. Since I began this writing experiment a year and a half ago after an essay on marriage rights for same-sex couples, it seems appropriate to revisit it during a significant time in the life of our country.

I must confess that I am puzzled when a person prays for God's will to be done and then asserts what God's will must be in a given situation. If God is believed to be omnipotent, or at least exerting some amount of control over reality, what does one hope to accomplish by encouraging God to do what he will presumably do anyway? If God is in control, isn't everything that happens his will? Yet, if the Supreme Court decides in favor of same-sex marriage in a few months, there will no doubt be some Christians who will claim that God's will was not done. The people I admire are those who recognize the need to occasionally reorder their impression of God's love for humanity. People who claim to have a corner on the market of understanding God's will are revealing a profound egotism and immaturity, demanding that reality should shift to fit their perspective rather than the other way around.

Hoping to gain collusion for their prejudice and spread panic and self-righteous indignation, some of these individuals have equated homosexual people with child molesters and animal abusers, claiming that it will only be a short step from legalizing marriage for homosexual couples to legalizing bestiality, child abuse, incest, and polygamy. Obviously, condoning a relationship between two consenting adults has nothing to do with putting children or animals at risk. On the one hand, the fear-mongering tactics are blatant, but on the other hand, the envisioned dangers of this slippery slope attack the very foundation of the argument. Some famous biblical heroes committed incest and polygamy, and God didn't seem to mind at all. If the Bible is to be used as a credible source for condemning homosexuality, why is it not a credible source to approve marrying one's half-sister or taking multiple wives?

The whole slippery slope concern is fallacious from the start, however. As things currently stand, relationships between homosexual couples exist. Although the GLBT community is still in the process of obtaining equal treatment in our society, they are able to openly present themselves to society as homosexuals with ever-increasing acceptance. Homosexual couples can adopt children, and potentially raise them in a more loving environment than some heterosexual couples manage to create. The propriety of homosexuality is not the issue in question. The question is whether married adult homosexual couples will be granted the same benefits as married adult heterosexual couples. Even if the Supreme Court decides in favor of restrictive and intolerant laws, there will still be people in homosexual relationships in America.

Presumably, the concern is that such "sinful" acts should be condemned by the law, even if people choose to engage in them. This, too, seems like an indefensible position. Homosexuality is not even significant enough to be addressed in the Ten Commandments, and in the United States, national laws permit the breaking of several of the Big Ten. Not only are people allowed to work on the sabbath, our culture and economy have come to expect it to a large extent. There are no national laws against idolatry. There are no longer any national laws against blasphemy. Although we expect people to give honest testimony before judges, there are entire career fields based on deception. And although adultery is illegal on the books in some states, there is no national law prohibiting it. In fact, according to a recent study, 23% of Christian pastors in America admitted to committing adultery. Apparently it is easier to condemn other people than it is to live blamelessly in one's own life. The Bible claims that Jesus even said something about this.

Even though homosexuality isn't mentioned in the Ten Commandments, it is clearly included in a larger set of "sinful" behaviors articulated in the Bible. While the laws of the United States may not outright condone many "sinful" behaviors, there doesn't seem to be a community of people who are being persecuted for wearing mixed fabrics, gossiping, or eating the wrong foods (all of which are sinful according to the Bible). This has become a legal issue specifically because an intolerant segment of the Christian subculture has claimed unjustified and imbalanced influence on the American legal system. For whatever reason, some Christians believe that they must impose their worldview on other people, and they are willing to use an array of intimidation tactics to get their way, even though this represents a very different way of treating people than what was taught by their namesake.

While it seems logical to suggest that no one is going to be forced into a homosexual relationship, some people insist that their religious rights are being trampled if anyone is allowed to engage in a homosexual relationship with the blessing of the national government. This reflects a grievous misunderstanding of how religious freedom works. Religious freedom means that I have the right to believe what I want to believe and engage in whatever religious activities seem appropriate to me, provided I do not bring harm to any person or animal or break any other laws. Religious freedom does not mean that I can dictate what other people do. If someone decides to be Christian, and I am offended by that, I cannot call foul and demand that the government do something about it. Likewise, if my religious beliefs do not allow for the use of an automobile, I cannot demand that everyone else stop driving around. If a person's religion prohibits consuming alcohol, that person should refrain from consuming alcohol; if a person's religion prohibits homosexual behavior, then that person should refrain from homosexual behavior. That is the extent of religious freedom. Somehow, when money is perceived as being in the mix, however, people start getting twisted.

Since the whole reproductive rights issue has been in the public eye because of its inclusion in the national health care plan, some Christian organizations have been threatening civil disobedience. The rhetoric goes something like, "We will not be forced to pay for abortions," followed by whatever absurd and idle threats seem to pack the most punch at the time. As they see the issue, if any money a Christian organization pays into a health care system is used to pay for abortion, then the organization is essentially supporting abortion, even if no one in the actual organization ever has an abortion. It makes sense on the surface. Now, the battle cry is easily converted to, "We will not be forced to support marriage rights for homosexuals." While I'm not sure what that means, exactly, since I cannot imagine that any members of the clergy will suddenly be forced to perform marriages, the assumption seems to be that an organization should be able to decide to be a conscientious objector to a national policy. This reflects either a stunning naïveté or a very ballsy bluff.

Here's a secret that these folks may actually not realize: We are already paying for things we don't want to pay for. Imagine that I disagree with cigarette smoking and I decide that I don't want to pay for a smoker's cancer treatment. If their behavior brought about the disease, then they should bear the brunt of paying for treatment. Harsh perhaps, but reasonable. If I have health insurance, however, the cost of my insurance is not just based on my personal medical expenses. An insurance company spreads its expenditures out across all its policy holders. So, if I look at things the right way, I am paying for a small piece of a lot of other people's medical procedures, whether I want to or not. I appreciate the benefits of having health insurance, though, so I have to come to terms with the fact that some little portion of my premiums payments will pay some miniscule portion of many smokers' cancer treatments.

Similarly, let us consider taxes for a moment. As American citizens, we have a great amount of freedom, but as individuals we do not get to determine how our country spends the taxes we pay. Some of us may disagree with wars because of the innocent lives that are inevitably lost. We do not get to allocate our tax dollars toward education instead. I can issue statements of protest and disapproval. I can contribute personal money toward organizations that seek to broker peace. I can volunteer my time and energy toward anti-war efforts. But my tax dollars will, in some small way, support the decisions of elected officials, whether I agree with them or not. That is how our democracy works.

As for how Christianity works, there are now many differing views. Some would say that Jesus proclaimed a new way of living in harmony with one another, through a profound love that surpassed our tendency to compete and condemn. Some would say that there is no fear in such a love as Jesus taught, that such a love dismantles fear. Others apparently believe that they must fight with every breath to force others to behave a certain way. This winds up looking a lot more like fear than it does love. I would suggest that Christians are capable of reading their scriptures with more open eyes and hearts. Even as Paul condemns sexual immorality in the letter to the Galatians, for instance, he reminds Christians that they are not slaves to a set of behavioral rules. He asserts that the Christian community is free from such concerns, so that it might love more fully.

I am grateful to be in a country where there can be a national debate about loving, honoring, and respecting all people equally. I envision a time when there might be no reason to debate policies of equity and justice. For now, I stand on the side of love. And if an atheist humanist can do that, surely believers in a God of love can find a way to put aside fear and see people more fully, if they choose.

Shepherd-like Responsibility and Child-like Idealism in Matthew 18:12–13

Albeit wildly out of sequence with the New Testament passages considered thus far, the following thoughts are the result of an academic study of two verses in the Gospel of Matthew. I offer them here for whatever value you may find in them. 

A few textual critical concerns in Mt 18 require some attention before turning to the short parable in verses 12–13. The first of these occurs with verse 11, in that the earliest extant versions of the text do not contain this phrase, “For the Son of Man came (to seek and) to save the lost.” This seems to have been added as connective and clarifying material, but as such it potentially changes the original scope of the passage. In omitting this verse, a more specific reading is preserved. Although for some this may reduce the usefulness of the passage, imaginative interpreters are seldom daunted by such limitations. Thus, verse 11 has been omitted.

The next challenge appears in Mt 18:14, in which the pronoun preceding “father in heaven” is in question. No matter what pronoun one chooses here, however, it is clear that the author of Matthew is having the character of Jesus refer to God. It is best not to make too much of the pronoun discrepancy when the intent of the phrase is so blatantly clear. Similarly, whether one follows a longer or shorter text by one word (“truly”) in Mt 18:19 is inconsequential. One must assume that a devotee of the Jesus ideal would portray the words of Jesus as true, thus an additional “truly” inserted into the text cannot make the words that follow more true. Inclusion of the word is probably not reflective of a desire for clarity, but rather a preference for a particular stylistic affectation.

In Mt 18:15, however, the phrase “against you” was possibly added by a scribe for clarification, or was perhaps omitted from the original text to make the passage more universal. In this instance, personal relationships are better served by letting the phrase stand as a more specific qualifier as to when one should confront a fellow human being. The human propensity to count as wrong or sinful any behavior with which one disagrees opens this passage up to abuse. Thus, a reader’s voracious appetite for correcting any perceived misdeeds by others may be tempered by a more limiting reading. Thus, since the longer reading is plausibly authentic, this discussion assumes the verse to read, “If a fellow disciple sins against you.”

In the passage leading up to Mt 18:12, the disciples have approached Jesus to inquire about status in the kingdom of heaven. Jesus responds by referring to a child, stating that the disciples would never enter the kingdom of heaven unless they change and become as children. Those who assume the societal status of a child will be greatest in the kingdom, and those who are welcoming to children are, in effect, welcoming Jesus. Then, the character of Jesus proclaims that, although the world is full of temptations, a person who causes temptation—particularly toward children—would be better off dead. In essence, the author suggests that suicide is preferable to the “eternal fire” that awaits an individual who leads a child astray.

This passage qualifies “little ones” as “those who believe in [Jesus]” (Mt 18:6), and this opens up room for interpretation. One might conclude that the little ones to which the character of Jesus refers are actual children who also happen to believe in him. One might justifiably conclude, however, that the little ones in this passage are now the followers of Jesus who have become like little children, suggesting that Jesus is here proclaiming woe upon any person who tempts one of his faithful followers away from faith. It is impossible to tell with certainty whether the child imagery is at this point a metaphor for the attitude of those who understand Jesus’ message or whether a child is just a child. From Mt 18:10, which immediately precedes the parable under scrutiny, one might extrapolate that the author is referring to those who are new to the Jesus cult. “Do not despise those who have less experience than you at this disciple business.” If an earlier version of a text were to be discovered which left out the qualifying “those who believe in me” in Mt 18:6, these questions would be moot, as the more specific reading of children as actual children would be much more clear. While the interpretation of “little ones” is subject to debate, the flow of discussion within the context of the passage as a whole leads from this idea of children (and those who are like children) being greatest in the kingdom to the idea of conflict resolution and agreement among members of the faith community. The child imagery disappears following Mt 18:14, and the passage heads in a new direction about how to address conflict between believers healthily, followed by a dubious promise about wish fulfillment in harmonious pairings of people.

Since verse 14 concludes the two-verse “lost sheep” parable with the explanation that God is unwilling for any children (or however one wishes to interpret “little ones”) to be spiritually lost, it seems clear that the passage which follows builds on that with a contrast to how one might deal with a more mature believer who has gone astray. Essentially, one should speak with the person directly, then take another person along to speak with the person, and finally bring the matter publicly before the collective. At any point along this trajectory, responsible adult believers can recognize how their actions have been out of alignment with their beliefs, and they can then make a course correction and remain within the community. Once the matter has been publicly addressed, however, if the adult believer is unwilling to acknowledge wrongdoing, it is perfectly acceptable to cast them out of the faith community. This is in contrast to how one should treat the “little ones” of the passage prior to this instruction, toward whom the community of believers should be protective.

Thus, the larger passage flows as follows: The disciples ask about status in the kingdom. Jesus uses a child to point out that their priorities are skewed, indicating that only people who are child-like in status will even be admitted into the kingdom. From this statement, Jesus pronounces judgment on any person who would teach a child to behave wrongfully and asserts that children deserve special attention from the community of faith, presumably so that they will grow into adults who can be meaningful, responsible participants in the faith community. Adults, by contrast, are capable of handling things differently. Adult members of the faith community should be more able to recognize and address their wrongdoing, and it is detrimental to the community to be overindulgent toward misbehavior of adult participants. Conflict among the adults in the faith community should be resolved directly and methodically, with real consequences for those who would assert their own selfish behavior over the good of the community. With this context in mind, it is therefore quite likely that the “little ones” and the “lost sheep” of Mt 18:6–14 refer specifically to children.

Although it is beyond the scope of the lost sheep parable in Mt 18:12–13, much has been considered in the larger Christian community about what it may mean to “become like little children” (Mt 18:3). Certainly, there are those who would assert the value of a certain ignorance of the way the world works, claiming that mature scientific knowledge of reality is a hindrance to faith. Some might suggest that children have an innocence that jaded adults lack, although this opens up the larger controversial subject of original sin. Perhaps the author of Matthew is simply referring to the status of children in society, suggesting a connection only to the status of disciples in the larger context of the kingdom of heaven. While it would be futile to attempt to resolve the larger debate on the subject, it is worth considering that the author of Matthew is suggesting that children are less concerned about status and more adept at living in the moment without regard to future consequences. As will become apparent, the parable in Mt 18:12–13 suggests that children require adults to keep them from going too far afield with this freedom, but if adults were somehow able to pair mature personal responsibility with carefree idealism, what an incredible force to behold that would be! Truly, if one lacks the ability to live by what some may consider to be an unrealistic set of ideals, one cannot hope to follow the teachings of Jesus as they are presented in the gospels.

With regard to the intended audience for Mt 18:12–13, the parable falls within a passage in which the author of Matthew portrays Jesus addressing his disciples. It is probable that the author of Matthew is actually addressing the participants of the early church, recommending how the early church should address various issues through the presumed words of Jesus. There is wisdom in what is expressed for any community, and as every person is a member of some community, the passage has the potential to speak to how any human being might relate to children and manage conflict, whether one is a disciple of Jesus or not.

The actual parable is in Mt 18:12–13. In this short passage, the character of Jesus suggests that the owner of a flock of sheep would leave 99% of his flock in order to look for one sheep that wandered away. Recovering that one sheep will be a source of joy surpassing that of retaining the majority of the sheep, which stayed in a place of safety and were not the cause of any undue stress. There is truth here regarding sheep and human behavior. Sheep are often oblivious to their surroundings, and it is within the nature of a sheep to wander away, not out of any willful disobedience, but out of sheer ignorance. Likewise, when a person recovers a possession once imagined to be lost, that possession becomes more prized than other possessions that were safely kept out of harm’s way, regardless of the actual value of the possessions in question.

As previously stated, the parable equates children with sheep, prone to be oblivious to much of the world around them and ignorant of the consequences of their actions. While the conclusion of the parable mentions God, the thrust of the story is not that God will take care of children. Rather, the parable serves as a motivation for the disciples to pay attention to the children in their midst, to guide them—and rescue them if necessary—rather than despise them or look upon them with disinterest. In fact, the author of Matthew asserts that when the angels look at children, they see the face of God. Thus, the disciples would do well to look for the face of God when they look upon the children in their midst.

Even for twenty-first century adults, this admonition has profound ramifications. Children are children; children are not adults. One should not expect of children what one expects of adults. Children understand things differently than adults, they respond to the world differently from adults, and they are not aware of the ramifications of their actions to the same extent that one might expect adults to be. Thus, adults should allow children to be children, understanding that they warrant a bit more guidance and patience than adults do. If adults desire for children to grow up to be responsible members of a greater collective, it is the duty of adults to teach children how to do that. This happens through direct (patient, age-appropriate) teaching, but children also learn through modeling. If a child sees adults living responsibly, then the child learns to mimic that example. Sometimes healthy models are not evident in a child’s nuclear family. Thus, the potentially overused and trite African proverb, “It takes a village to raise a child,” is an appropriate message to take away from this parable.

Human beings are in a very real way connected to one another. What happens to the children in a community affects everyone in the community—regardless of actual familiar relationships. It is therefore imperative to the health of a society that the adults of a community notice, respect, spend time with, care for, and instruct the children in their midst. To neglect the well-being of children is to treat them as non-persons. Put another way, extrapolated from Mt 18:10, to fail to see children as important is to fail to see God as important. Asserting the inherent worth and dignity of all human beings is impossible if one does not assert the inherent worth and dignity of children. Ignoring the development of meaningful relationships with and responsible behavior toward children is shortsighted and ultimately self-destructive. The children of today are, after all, the foundation of tomorrow’s society.

If one considers these conclusions credible, then one might take action in several ways. First, one might develop more responsible, mature, self-differentiated adult relationships, so that children who bear witness to these relationships have a healthy model from which to learn. Second, one might adopt a discipline of acknowledging children with respect rather than ignoring them, inviting meaningful interaction that validates a child’s own personality, opinions, and interests while still allowing for instruction and encouraging growth. Third, one might take more seriously the injustices toward children evident in one’s neighborhood, city, nation, and world. One person cannot overcome all of the challenges that children face, and yet one person can take a stand that children matter.

While many individuals become intensely engaged in the issue of reproductive rights, there are actual children living out of the womb and in the twenty-first century world who experience all manner of suffering, some of which is inflicted upon them by the adults in their midst. To be blunt, children are largely helpless against poverty, disease, lack of food or potable water, educational inequities, and humanity’s seemingly insatiable lust for violence, not to mention the greed that drives some predatory adults to force children into serving as laborers, soldiers, drug mules, or sex workers. One person cannot solve all of the world’s problems; the shepherd in Mt 18:12–13 does not go on a crusade to recover every lost sheep, after all. Yet every small action and every statement of conviction against the mistreatment and devaluation of children can contribute to a greater shift of cultural awareness and response. Transformative action can be as simple as being more responsive to the children in one’s own immediate sphere of contact. The divine may even be visible in youthful faces, if one can abandon concerns of status and lifestyle and blend the responsibility of an adult participant in the world with the bold idealism of a child.

The Rules by Which We Live, and What Matters More

Wending our way through the Gospel of Mark, the next several passages are short accounts of healing and conflict with the Jewish religious authorities of the day. (These accounts also appear in the gospels of Matthew and Luke, arranged to suit those authors' purposes.) Jesus heals a paralyzed man and forgives his sins, and the scribes call him a blasphemer. Jesus heals a man's hand on the Sabbath (a day set apart for rest in honor of Yahweh), and the leaders of a Jewish sect start plotting to kill him. In between these healing stories, Jesus is questioned about why he and his companions refuse to follow Jewish customs of avoiding contact with unclean people, honoring days of fasting, and respecting the Sabbath. The author of Mark has Jesus respond with some typical rabbinic sayings: "It isn't the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick." "No one pours new wine into old wineskins." "The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath." These responses -- which were handed down through oral tradition among the Jewish teachers (rabbis) -- reflect something about what the author of Mark was trying to communicate in his portrayal of Jesus.

Pharisees were members of a Jewish sect who devoted their time to nuanced interpretations of Jewish law. Some of the situations in Mark are obviously contrived just so the author can make a point. It was not forbidden for beggars to pick grain and eat it on the Sabbath, for instance, but it provides an opportunity to have Jesus say something the author of Mark deemed important. There were Jewish thinkers who disagreed with Pharisaic interpretations, and there were other sects of Judaism in the first century with their own distinct views. By the time the author of Mark was writing, however, the temple in Jerusalem had been destroyed by Roman military response to a Jewish uprising, and the Pharisees had become a dominant voice among Jews that had been "dispersed" from Jerusalem. Their way of thinking offered the most robust way of living out the Jewish faith in the absence of a temple where legitimate sacrifices could be offered. Thus, when the author of Mark writes of conflict between Jesus and Jewish leaders, he is in effect portraying conflict between the Christian and Pharisaic sects of Judaism in the aftermath of the temple's destruction.

The Christian perspective portrayed in the gospel stories had their roots in rabbinic commentary -- interpretations of the Jewish scriptures by rabbis. There was a distinct spin put on these teachings to be sure, but the words attributed to Jesus by the author of Mark often were not novel. When one looks at the thrust of this collection of stories, the conflict between the Pharisees and Jesus is clearly about where one's focus should be in life. The Pharisees had an idea of how one should live -- a set of complex rules that defined as clearly as possible every nuance of righteous living. The Jesus of Mark was interested in something else -- a different, simpler rule of life that focused on other people rather than individual righteousness.

People like rules for more than one reason. Some people like to have a concrete measure of how wonderful they are, and a checklist of rules works well for this. Most people, however, use their own rules as a means of assessing other people. If I make it a rule that I will always obey the speed limit, I not only get to feel great about myself when I follow that rule, I also get to judge all the people around me who do not obey the speed limit. They are wicked, evil, miscreants because they are doing something of which I do not approve. Speed limits are actual laws, but we create our own rules about lots of things: how people should dress, how people should speak, how people should raise their children, what people should do with their money. We have an idea about the right way to handle every aspect of life, even when we don't live up to our own standards. The Pharisees ought to make perfect sense to us, when we think about it. We are constantly judging other people's behavior against our own standards.

The Jesus of the gospels throws a monkey wrench into this habit. Why would we let people wallow in unnecessary shame, when we have the power to forgive them and lift them up? Why would we only spend time with people who agree with us, when we have the opportunity to teach and learn so much more by spending time with people who are different? Why would we only spend time with people who have it all together in their own minds, when we can make the most difference in the lives of people who are desperately searching for their own sense of worth and hope? Why should we adhere to old ways of doing things at the expense of our own well-being and the well-being of other people around us? Of what value are all of our rules if we only use them as weapons?

In these stories, the author of Mark was saying something profound about what he thought Judaism -- and the Christian sect -- should stand for. People matter more than our rules. We rarely see this truth being lived out by churches of any faith in the twenty-first century, and we are most likely personally challenged by the statement. People matter more than our rules. Connecting with other people is more important than judging them and setting ourselves apart. Honoring other people as they are is more valuable than finding reasons not to care about them. Our lives are enriched when we let go of our own contrived mandates about how life ought to be lived and accept ourselves and other people as worthy, capable human beings. People matter more than our rules.


Consider your own rules. How do you judge yourself and other people? What would it be like to set those rules aside and see people as human beings with innate value? What artificial rule could you let go of right now and never miss? For me, rules about how people should drive would be high on the list, and rules about how aware people should be in crowded stores would rank up there, too. The importance we ascribe to insignificant things is just silly. Of course people matter more than our contrived rules. People matter. What an incredibly simple and challenging truth. 

Casting Out Demons

In the Gospel of Mark, after Jesus calls his first disciples, he begins his ministry of miraculous healing and exorcism. The authors of the Gospels of Matthew and Luke copy these stories from Mark, editing them a bit as suited their particular messages. Throughout the Gospel of Mark there runs a thematic element of Jesus telling demons and people to keep his identity a secret; this is known as Mark's "messianic secret" theme. The author of the Gospel of Luke preserves the formulaic silencing of demons in his retelling of the exorcisms, probably because these texts were used in actual exorcisms, and thus the specific words and actions were ritually important. For this collection of short passages, the Gospel of Luke closely follows the version in Mark with a few minor edits. The author of the Gospel of Matthew spaces out these passages in three separate places, interspersing other miracle stories and teachings that were important to the author's portrait of Jesus. The thrust of these passages is that Jesus performed effective acts of healing and exorcism as part of his ministry.
Of course, we have lots of stories of exorcisms and miraculous healing from both before and after the writing of the gospels. Some of these stories make spectacular claims about actual people while others feature fictional healers, like the abundant ancient stories of the Greek demigod Asclepius. Faith healing has been associated with a variety of belief systems, as has exorcism, and both are still practiced to some extent in the world today. The breadth of these claims across human history offers a few choices about how one may respond in terms of belief.

One could believe that all faith healing and exorcism is to some extent true, but that would be a difficult position to maintain. Apart from many of the stories being clearly fictitious, belief in faith healing is challenged by the exposure of many frauds like Jack Coe, Kathryn Kuhlman, and Peter Popoff, and abundant scientific research has shown the ineffectiveness of spiritual healing and intercessory prayer in a medical setting. Even the American Cancer Society and the American Medical Association have published statements against faith healing, because of numerous tragic reports of people with serious illnesses who died because they relied on faith rather than medical treatment. Choosing to believe in faith healing in light of the evidence equates with ignoring reality.

It is possible that some stories are true while many are false, however. Some might choose to believe in the veracity of ancient stories that predate modern medicine, or in just the stories that paint the heroes of their particular faith in a positive light. The challenge then becomes how to discern which stories are true and which are false with no evidence. A person will obviously approach a story already committed to a belief, and the story itself will be judged by presumption rather than on its own merits. Since we do not have any verifiable, scientifically documented cases of faith healing or demon possession, there is no real support for believing in any faith healing. Although it is impossible to disprove an assertion that Jesus (and his true disciples throughout the ages) performed actual miracles while all others were mere charlatans, the available evidence suggests that actual, effective faith healing is unlikely.

There is a reason that faith healing and exorcism are lumped together in the gospel stories. The ancient world believed that many cases of illness were manifestations of demonic activity. Their understanding of biological reality was not as advanced as ours, and they wanted explanations for the things they did not understand. Demons were an easy explanation for bad things like disease. For some reason, even though our understanding of the physical world increased exponentially, belief in demons still persists. In twenty-first century books on Christian spirituality, one can still find abundant assertions that demonic activity and spiritual warfare are legitimate concerns, despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary. What is so appealing about holding on to a primitive worldview?

First of all, the evidence refuting demonic activity and possession is easy to dismiss if one believes that demons are real. If demons actually exist, they would certainly be able to fool a few scientists and doctors, after all. The belief seems far too deeply convincing to be damaged by a little scientific report. In actuality, if demons were prevalent, it would be a miracle if any scientific studies were ever replicable. If the world is constantly influenced by the supernatural, there would be no way to obtain reliable evidence about disease, or any natural phenomenon for that matter. If demons caused disease, we would not be able to create medical cures and vaccinations, unless demons are susceptible to the laws of the natural, scientifically verifiable world. And if demons are susceptible to the laws of the scientifically verifiable world, science would be able to test for demonic activity and verify which instances of disease are the result of demons and which instances of disease are caused by something else. What we know about the natural world and about the increasing efficacy of medical treatment strongly suggests that there are no demons.

There are some cases, however, that seem to fly in the face of that evidence, however. Anecdotes about an exorcism in which some supernatural event transpired, or about how prayer healed someone, or about some personal encounter with spiritual forces entice us to leave the door open for the supernatural. The more we learn, the more we realize how creative we can be when we don't understand something. Human beings are creators. When something doesn't make sense to us, we invent a hypothesis. Sometimes we test that hypothesis -- we do a bit of research, we perform a few experiments, we determine if our hypothesis really holds water. Other times, we are so satisfied with our hypothesis that we simply run with it, even when our hypothesis leads us to do real harm to ourselves or other people (as is the case in many documented exorcisms). Our belief in the supernatural, thus, is evidence of human creativity and laziness. When we take the time to investigate the things we do not understand, and we persist until we have understanding, we learn that the natural world can be bizarre and astounding all on its own, without the need for supernatural influence.

The real attraction, though, is that belief in demonic activity gives us a scapegoat. If we are constantly being assaulted by dark spiritual forces, then we have something to blame when we act shamefully. We can still beat ourselves up for giving in to temptation, but it's much easier to be a helpless victim to demons than it is to be a personally responsible human being. When our children behave in a way that we don't understand, belief in demonic activity can allow us to preserve our impression of them as innocents who need to rely on us to survive. Out of our own insecurities and fears, we might fail to provide effective medical or psychiatric care for our loved ones. If we believe that it's possible for our actions, or the actions of other people, to be influenced by external, powerful, supernatural entities, we don't have to examine our own thoughts and actions as closely. We don't have to confront the real challenges in life because we have invented imaginary challenges. While demons are not necessarily more attractive than reality, our ways of confronting demons might be more appealing than the sometimes difficult emotional work of confronting reality and taking responsibility for our own growth. Belief in demons is a crutch that hinders people from being fully engaged in their own lives.

People become addicted to things -- substances, behaviors, routines. People get sick. People commit crimes. People break their promises. People do things that harm other people. People do things they later regret. Not demons. People. Not people under the influence of demons. Just every-day, ordinary people. If a person wants to change -- if a person wants to break an addiction, treat a medical condition, keep promises, respect other people, act in accordance with a nobler inner self -- the answer is not exorcism. The answer is personal responsibility. If we confront the things within ourselves that lead us away from our own deep sense of worth, then we can more effectively be our authentic selves in the world. We can figuratively call those things our "inner demons" if we want to, but it's all just us. The lies we tell and the false beliefs we cultivate come from within ourselves, and we have the power to dismantle those lies and false beliefs and tell the truth about ourselves and the people around us. Integrity comes from letting go of blame and embracing our own capability.

So there are no demons, although there are things in the world we do not yet understand. We don't always like what we do, particularly when our actions don't line up with what we claim to believe. Still, we are responsible for all of our actions, even the ones about which we aren't happy. We are responsible for our beliefs, too. We don't have to believe things that reinforce the idea that we are weaklings or victims. Such beliefs hinder us from being all that we can be in the world, and such beliefs keep us from seeing other people clearly. It makes sense to believe in what's real. People are incredible. The world is amazing. If we start there, our journey will be infinitely more satisfying.

Discipleship and Responsibility

When John the Baptist is arrested for saying some unkind things about the king, Jesus takes over for him as local preacher and sect leader. Of course, some of John's disciples most likely keep his group, maintaining his ideas and ministry under new leadership. Jesus seems to use John's message as a springboard for his own ministry in the gospel stories, which may indicate that there was some rivalry between competing sects. In the gospel of Mark, we see just a couple of sentences about the thrust of Jesus' message, which the author of Matthew elaborates on in terms of geography. Luke and John both contain parallel statements about the beginning of Jesus' public ministry, although they do not tie it with an end to John the Baptist's sect. In all of these brief passages, however, it is easy to see subtle hints about why Jesus' message may have been a threat to people in positions of authority. Speaking of a new kingdom would have been a potential political threat against Roman authority, and baptizing a bunch of disciples would have been a threat to the religious status quo of Jewish culture. While all of that is fascinating, it is more a matter of history (or at least the background of the story) than of any present usefulness, aside from the truth that the conservation of power is inherently threatened by new ideas.

The ideas presented in the gospel stories would never have gained traction if one man went around spreading them without convincing anyone. In every narrative, disciples who agree with Jesus' ideas are called early and become active partners in creation. Mark presents a fairly straightforward depiction of Jesus telling a few guys to quit their jobs and follow him around for awhile, which they do without hesitation. To be fair, the idea of "fishing for men" is a clever play on words and probably seemed a bit intriguing, but most people would have required a bit more explanation about what they were signing up for. The author of Matthew copies the story verbatim, and Luke writes his own versions later on of how the disciples all met Jesus. In the gospel of John, however, there is a bit more of a story, in which John the Baptist seems to commend a couple of his disciples to Jesus. Beyond just giving people an excuse to shirk their fishing careers, Jesus says a few more impressive things in the John version of the story, suggesting that he has some superhuman knowledge.

It bears mentioning in relation to the John narrative that not all early Christian church documents consider Cephas and Peter to be the same person, and there is an Aramaic name "Petros" which means "first born" and has nothing to do with rocks. But we will return to the character of Peter in greater detail at a later time. For now, it is the concept of discipleship that holds incredible value for twenty-first century society.

We are disciples of various people in our lives as well, although most of them do not encourage us to leave our jobs and become vagabonds. Typically, we become disciples of people who seem to be more knowledgeable, wise, or experienced than we are, and we expect (or at least hope) that following these people will yield some benefit in our own lives --  that we will gain some measure of their knowledge and wisdom. For the sake of having a label for these people, let us borrow the term "guru." Some gurus tell us which books to read, some tell us how to invest our money, some tell us how to make money in the first place. We listen to people who give us insight about politics, how we should vote, and whom we should call to complain about this or that piece of legislation. We listen to child rearing gurus, health gurus, relationship gurus, and of course, religion gurus. Everywhere we turn, it seems that there are people who know more about everything in our lives than we could possibly know ourselves. And some of them do.

With a multitude of voices, however, if can be difficult to tell which guru has real valuable wisdom to offer us and which ones are loud-mouthed charlatans. Psychological research has shown that we are most inclined to follow the guru who agrees with us. Did you catch that? We are most inclined to listen to people who validate our own views. They may challenge us a little bit in one direction or another, but they get there by speaking to what we already believe about ourselves, other people, and the world. One question we must ask ourselves is whether our gurus are speaking to what we know or what we fear. The last thing we need is some purportedly wise person validating the lies and fears we have accumulated.

Sometimes, we will expect to see some modern day equivalents of signs and wonders, like Jesus telling Nathanael where he had been. A guru may have to jump through a few hoops before we commit ourselves as disciples. Multilevel marketing gurus have emotion-based presentations that demonstrate how easy it is to make money with their particular brand of snake oil. Political gurus will have the sound bites and supporting testimony from other experts to illustrate the accuracy and insight of  their righteous indignation. Churches have appealing music and a welcoming attitude to convince you that their brand of religion is better than the rest. But not all gurus are out to fool us. Some people are honestly more knowledgeable about particular matters. Many of us need to trust experts with some facets of our lives that we are ill-equipped to handle, but the concept of discipleship takes things a bit further than mere trust of a more experienced person. We sometimes become disciples of a particular person's ideas in a way that we would never devote ourselves to a mechanic or a drug store pharmacist. In becoming disciples of a concept or an individual, we run the risk of forgetting to think for ourselves; we are sometimes content to parrot what we have heard without even considering whether it makes any sense or is based on accurate data. And certain gurus will even tell us how wise we are for accepting what they say without putting too much thought into it. Discipleship is a dangerous proposition unless we continue to be responsible for our own beliefs and actions.

Given that we are so inclined to devote ourselves to people who validate our own opinions, it may seem unnecessary to question our personal gurus. After all, if we already know that they agree with us on basic principles, we can safely assume that all the details that follow are logically in line with what we already believe, right? Not necessarily. The Jesus of the gospels had a high-minded mission in which he sought collaboration. Many gurus of our day have a different sort of agenda, and in order for us to recognize that agenda, we must keep thinking. For this reason, it is valuable to listen to a multitude of perspectives, especially from people we don't revere. If we are willing to consider alternative ways of seeing the world and we still walk away with our original ideas intact, then our convictions will be the stronger for it. If we hear something that challenges our perspective however, we may have an opportunity to refine our beliefs, to sharpen what we believe so that we are better able to act in a meaningful way to create a more desirable reality in partnership with others.

Experts are not bad. We count on reliable experts in many areas of our lives. Being a disciple of an expert -- or several experts -- is not necessarily a bad thing either. The important piece is continue to weigh what our gurus tell us against reality and our own ability to think and reason. We know that people matter, and so we know that when some idea we believe or hear devalues people, there is something off target about that idea. In order for our actions to best represent us, our minds must be engaged in what we accept and reject. At our core, we know what we need to know about deep truths, and we can recognize irrational fear when we want to. If we find the concept of discipleship appealing, why not devote ourselves to those people who better equip us to dismantle our irrational fears, treat one another with respect, recognize the beauty and wonder in the real world around us, and tap into our ability to connect creatively with one another to build something meaningful in the world? We are already experts at feeding our lies and fears. We don't honestly need any help with that lesson.

Mark 1:9-14: Trials and Temptations, and Recognizing the Challenges that Matter Most

All mythological heroes, from Sumerian tales through modern movies, face what Joseph Campbell has termed the "Road of Trials." In the prototypical ordering of hero myths, this time of testing begins after the hero has crossed the threshold of normal life and experienced a "rebirth" into a heroic identity. In the Jesus story, baptism by John the Baptist serves as this crossing of the threshold. Jesus' heroic identity is announced, and he immediately goes into the wilderness to be tested.

The Gospel of Mark is the earliest written Jesus myth that made it into the canon of the Bible. In just a couple of verses, we learn that the Spirit drove Jesus into the wilderness, where he was tested by an adversary, and that angels tended him during this time when he lived with wild animals. Mark indicates that Jesus was in the wilderness for forty days, which in terms of Jewish storytelling was a shorthand for "a very long time." It is also thought that the number 40 referred to a period of testing or punishment, which makes it perfect in the context of the Jesus story.

In the Gospel of Matthew, the story becomes fleshed out a bit, with three specific temptations indicated, and the author of the Gospel of Luke borrowed heavily from the Gospel of Matthew for his version. (Incidentally, the writers of the Gospel of John had little use for the temptation story.) Many people have extracted lessons from this story about Jesus' character and how to follow his example. For instance, some people observe that Jesus used scriptural references to resist the temptations, and thus assume that knowing the Bible inside and out will lead to a more "holy," temptation-free life. In the Gospel of Matthew, however, there is a constant effort to prove the identity of Jesus by referring back to Jewish scripture, often taking the original scripture completely out of context in order to legitimize Jesus as the Jewish "messiah" of legend. Perhaps more significant is the implication that Jesus understood the temptations of wealth (bread is frequently symbolic of money in Jewish literature), fame, and power, and realized that these things frequently distract people from true wisdom and happiness. More on these things in a moment.

Some people are fond of the idea of being tested. After all, overcoming challenges makes us stronger and more capable people. When we prove ourselves to other people, we might get a promotion or a closer relationship or some other desirable privilege. Some of these challenges are very clear, with distinct rewards for success, and we choose to take them on because we want the reward. Of course, some individuals focus on how to get the rewards with a minimum of effort, overlooking that the designated trials are often intended to reflect inward character. We can go through our lives as if our only goal is to pass the next test in a long series of trials, neglecting our responsibility to infuse our lives with meaning. It might be said that part of the test is knowing how unimportant some tests are.

Of course, if we interpret tests as being spiritually significant, we can perceive a great deal of importance -- even eternal importance. There are those who believe that if they pass the trials of this life, they will be rewarded with greater joy and pleasure in an afterlife. Obviously, failing the trials of this life will yield a different result, but most folks believe that Hell is reserved for other people. Reward or punishment in an eternal afterlife certainly seems to be more motivating than anything that could happen in our temporally restricted physical life on Earth. Here's the thing though: there is a lot of good that can be done in this life, and there is a lot of joy and gratitude and satisfaction to be felt in this life. We don't really need to use belief in an afterlife as motivation. If we are doing the things that align with our deepest selves and honor our connection to the people around us, we will be creating what the gospel writers called the "kingdom of God." Since this term was often put in Jesus' mouth, we'll have more time to explore it in later entries. For now, the appropriate point is that there is no great trial-giver in the sky sending tests into our lives and scoring us on our successes to determine any sort of eternal destination.
 
We can absolutely test ourselves, setting goals and action plans that challenge us. There may be a great deal of personal satisfaction in overcoming challenges, even when the tangible rewards are slight. Sometimes building our sense of our own capability is an effective reward. When we start looking at our lives as a series of tests from something beyond ourselves, however, we risk losing that sense of our own capability. Not everything in life is a test. Illness is not a test, for instance. We cannot overcome most actual illnesses simply by our own efforts -- we rely on doctors to prescribe medicines and treatments so our bodies can heal. Illnesses may occur for any number of reasons, but there is no intentionality behind an illness -- no one decided to give us an illness to test us.

Likewise, things that happen because of someone's irresponsibility are not necessarily tests either. Being injured in a traffic collision because someone ran a red light is a result of human carelessness, and while we may face challenges as a result, our circumstances are not designed by anyone just to test us. We may find it challenging to pay our bills on time, and we may justifiably consider it an accomplishment when we pay off our last credit card and become debt free. However, there is no one orchestrating those financial challenges as some sort of Herculean trial. There are many things in life that are simply facets of living. We exist in a complex society with a lot of other people, and there are very real challenges that emerge in that system. That in no way implies an intelligence on the other end of these challenges waiting to reward or punish us. We ultimately decide which challenges in life we will tackle, and what our success will mean to us.

Which is why the story of Jesus' trials in the Gospel of Matthew and the Gospel of Luke are potentially more spiritually valuable for us than the earlier version in the Gospel of Mark. The spiritual truth in the tale has nothing to do with an intelligent spiritual adversary who is out to trick us -- we do well enough at tying our own spiritual shoelaces together in knots. The spiritual truth in the tale has nothing to do with how well we must memorize the scriptures of a particular religion. There are plenty of spiritual leaders who know their scriptures very well and still wind up in scandalous or violent headlines. Being able to recite words does not necessarily guarantee that we understand their meaning. The interesting spiritual piece in the temptation story is about the temptations themselves.

We are still living in a society that glorifies wealth, fame, and power over other people. It has apparently been a reality of human community for a very long time if these three things were considered the primary distractions from spirituality two thousand years ago. As many people have said, none of these three can provide happiness or satisfaction in life. Money is only as valuable as what one does with it, and the same goes for fame and power. The more time we spend worrying about our popularity or our bank accounts or our titles, the less time we have for the things that are truly meaningful. Money and popularity and power are not bad things, though, despite what one may infer from the gospel writers. These three temptations simply have incredible distraction potential. When we give them too much importance in our lives, we run the risk of missing the things that have true value: our integrity, our relationships, our connection to the world around us.

In the hero-myth of the gospels, Jesus knew what was important to him. He had a level of self-awareness that comes from intentional, honest introspection. While wealth, fame, and power hold some allure, there are more important things in life. At a very deep level, we know that, but we often forget it. We might try to fool ourselves with the justification that we can do more good in the world if we have more resources, but the truth is that we already have enough. The challenge of knowing what has value in life is not a test from on high, nor is it trial we can bluff our way past. It is a challenge issued from deep within ourselves, and if we answer that challenge with a life that focuses on what matters most, our rewards will be immeasurable, not in some distant afterlife, but here and now.

Christmas Inspiration: Leaping Forward to the Tales of Jesus (a sort of prologue)

A few conversations over the recent holidays have inspired a shift in my organizational thinking about these writings. I began with considering the Old Testament primarily because so many loud voices seem to refer to these ancient Israelite writings as prototypes for how twenty-first century Westerners should see the world. It is the poetic mythology of the Old Testament that leads some to conclude that creationism is rational. It is the brutal tribal justice depicted in the Old Testament that encourages some modern day Christians to justify violence in the name of religious superiority. In many cases, it is the pseudo-historical accounts of the Old Testament that some people attempt to prove in order to demonstrate the the Bible is inspired and infallible.

While it is understandably great fun to use the Bible as a weapon of judgment against other people, few who claim to revere its words seem to apply Old Testament prophetic judgment personally in their own lives. They seem instead to live by the principle, "Judgment for others; grace for me." However, there are many people in Christian churches who disagree wholeheartedly with the obnoxiously loud and violently unyielding extremists that can be heard constantly on the radio or seen on the television or online. Perhaps out of a quiet wisdom, they don't buy as much airtime, but in their lives, they intend to purposefully live out the love and grace practiced and taught by Jesus in the New Testament stories. Some people take seriously the revolutionary teachings and admonishments attributed to Jesus, without taking upon themselves the mantle of judge over the rest of humanity. One such person encouraged me to bring the figure of Jesus more fully into what I write here, finding the deconstruction of the Old Testament somewhat tedious. Fair enough.

In a separate holiday conversation, a believer told me, "Jesus was born to die on the cross." My question in response was, "Why are there so many stories about his ministry if the only thing that matters is that he was crucified?" With gentle and utter conviction, this person replied, "so we'd know he was the real deal."

While I realize that this viewpoint is not in any way representative of the whole of American Christianity, I also think that it is lacking in depth. Maintaining a faith of single-minded simplicity may be quite sufficient for some people, and if an individual chooses to stop thinking at a certain point and just do the best they can to make the world a better place, I have no real complaints. My concern is that there are those who would use simple single-minded faith to manipulate others or to justify actions that don't even come close to making the world a better place. It's worth examining closely the actions and teachings of the namesake of the Christian church.

Of course, it was always the intention to arrive at the New Testament after examining the Old Testament. The plan is simply shifting slightly to accommodate a bit of back-and-forth. Thus, over the next several entries, teachings from the gospel writers will be introduced in alternation with a continued exploration of the Old Testament. In light of that, a disclaimer is in order regarding my approach to the Christ figure.

While I do not begrudge anyone the freedom to hold as divine any person or thing they may choose, my personal beliefs do not find any justification for belief in a god, Christian or otherwise. Thus, my personal beliefs do not find cause to view Jesus as any more divine than anyone else. In fact, I find no compelling evidence that the man written about in the gospel stories ever actually existed in the form portrayed in the Bible. We could just as easily find lessons in the tales of Odysseus, King Arthur, or the Norse pantheon, and we could no doubt draw some valuable truths from such a study. Culturally speaking, however, there is a valid reason to look more closely at Jesus than other mythological figures, since so many diverse claims continue to be made about what he said or what he intended for twenty-first century American culture.

Although I do not believe in a historical Jesus as depicted by the biblical writers, I do believe that the gospel authors had a purpose in writing what they did. They were establishing new ways of expressing spirituality and community at a time when the old system was failing. Through the believable figure of a humble god-man, the biblical writers offered new interpretations of ideas that were already ancient two thousand years ago, encouraging people away from rigid legalism and tribalism and toward something different -- something more feasible in the new reality of the Roman Empire. Other Jewish scholars wrestled with the old traditions differently, producing volumes of commentaries to clarify and expound upon the Jewish scriptures. Some ideas held in common between these Jewish commentaries and the early Christian sect are also reflected in the inspirational writings from other faith traditions as well, hinting at the revelation of some universal truths that may hold value for all people regardless of geography or culture, as opposed to the ethnocentric and xenophobic tradition reflected in the Old Testament. Those who wrote what would eventually become the New Testament contributed to a sect that ultimately gained the support of a Roman emperor and established a cultural foothold that has lasted almost two millennia.

In order to legitimize the figure of Jesus as someone worthy of attention with greater authority than other spiritual leaders of the day, the gospel writers wove a unique biography for the Christ figure. On the one hand, they used thematic elements common to many hero tales across every culture; for more reading on the universal hero archetype, one can do no better than Joseph Campbell. The gospels also draw upon Jewish prophetic writings (many of which were not actually intended to predict a future messiah figure) to credential Jesus. This is reflected in the birth story heard throughout the Christian world last week, from Matthew 1-2 and Luke 1-3.

Obviously, there are discrepancies between the two accounts, in the two genealogies as well as the actual events related. The bottom line is that readers are supposed to conclude that Jesus was special and supremely qualified in spiritual matters. Symbolic and fantastical accounts aside, there is no real value in dismantling the birth story of Jesus here. If one chooses to believe in the unique divinity of a historical Jesus, perhaps that belief will lead to authentic expression of Christian teachings in one's daily life. I believe we will find greater spiritual value in the deeper truths and teachings recorded by the biblical authors through the character of Jesus.