Digging for bedrock
Morton
Kelsey was an Episcopal priest, Jungian therapist, prolific author, and
professor at the University of Notre Dame. In perhaps his best-known book, The
Other Side of Silence, he summarized his experiences working with Notre Dame
students
When [students] first came in to talk, it would be about some book
or idea. If I passed muster in that situation, then in another hour of
listening and talking I might hear about problems with parents or a brother, or
in the dormitory; their sense of loneliness and isolation and problems of
identity. And after that test I might then be admitted to a room full of sexual
fears and tales of sexual peccadillos, some not so minor. But there was still
another level of sharing which I found only when they were quite convinced that
I would not doubt or ridicule or pressure. It was then I was admitted to their
religious experience, their sense of the presence of God, their feeling of
closeness and desire to serve and know Him better. (p. 16)
As Kelsey
elegantly describes, religious beliefs and spiritual experiences reside at the
deepest level of the self. Not only does sharing our religious beliefs and
experiences with another person require becoming vulnerable, but, contrary to
our prior presumptions, discovering that some of our beliefs or experiences do
not rest upon bedrock can shake, if not completely shatter, our religious identity.
Jesus appreciated
the importance of building one's life on spiritual bedrock (cf. Mt. 7:24-27).
Unfortunately, Jesus failed to provide his followers with a clear statement of
what constitutes that bedrock. Episcopalians tacitly acknowledge that omission.
At ordination, new deacons and priests affirm that the Bible contains all
things necessary for salvation, a commitment without a definition of salvation or
statement of what is necessary to obtain salvation. Furthermore, the Creeds, often
interpreted in divergent and contradictory ways, offer no reliable guidance for
distinguishing between bedrock and densely packed sand.
Three
factors dramatically redirected my search for bedrock from which to derive theological
and ethical norms: the historical-critical study of the Bible; recognizing that
other sources of knowledge as well as the Bible inescapably inform theology and
ethics; and globalization. Historical-critical studies launched the twentieth
century quest for the historical Jesus, a figure no longer identical with the
Jesus depicted by harmonizing the four gospels. Clashes between other fields of
study and theological/ethical studies fueled both growing secularism and
underscored the inadequacy of a literal reading of Scripture, e.g., progress in
understanding race, gender, and sexuality contradicted traditional Christian
teachings on those topics. Globalization exposed Christian exclusivity as
tenuous if not indefensible and became another catalyst for reexamining
Christian theology and ethics. Collectively, these three factors have been
widely perceived as requiring a fresh evaluation of whether the purported bedrock
upon which Christianity had constructed its theology and ethics was truly
bedrock or simply densely packed sand. As theologian Mark C. Taylor in his book,
About Religion, observed, "It is obvious that we are living during
a time of extraordinary transition: something is slipping away and something is
beginning."
Consequently,
it is unsurprising that many theological and ethical precepts that Christians regarded
for centuries as bedrock have lately been shown to be sand. The Episcopal Church's
rejection of remarriage after divorce unless the spouse had committed adultery,
limiting ordination to men, and teaching that same sex unions are inherently sinful
illustrate sand historically perceived as bedrock.
The whole
Church, including Episcopalians, has frequently avoided confronting issues
raised by contemporary biblical studies, other sources of knowledge, and
globalization. Sometimes a desire to avoid conflict resulted in clergy pandering
to parishioners' deeply held beliefs, a phenomenon James Smart described in his
1970 book, The Strange Silence of the Bible in the Church. Other times,
clergy mentally shelved seminary content in order to preserve cherished
theological ideas acquired before seminary. Still other clergy have struggled
to integrate contemporary biblical studies, knowledge, and globalization into
their ministries but lacked the skills and parishioners' trust to overcome the fierce
resistance they encountered when people realized that the changes required jettisoning
beliefs widely considered the bedrock of the Christian faith. Whatever the explanation,
Christians have largely acted like ostriches, sticking their heads in the sand
and hoping the problems would disappear. They were therefore shocked when
theological and ethical changes seemed to occur virtually overnight, although decades
of debate preceded acceptance of these ideas.
Finding
the bedrock upon which to develop Christian theology and ethics is a daunting and
ongoing task. Some Christians persist in arguing for an unrealistically
expansive view of that bedrock. Others, like me, favor a minimalist
understanding of Christian bedrock. In view of contemporary biblical studies,
continuing advances in human knowledge, and globalization, the theological
nucleus that constitutes the bedrock at the heart of Christian theology seems
reducible to three elements: love God, love others as yourself, and follow
Jesus to learn how to love God and others. Understanding even that brief credo entails
looking through a glass dimly. For example, to what reality does the word God
refer? Hence, searching for bedrock is an ongoing endeavor, which Paul Tillich
labelled the "Protestant Principle."
Rethinking
Christian bedrock inevitably ignites controversy. Globally, disputes about ecclesial
authority, sexual mores, and biblical hermeneutics have brought the Anglican
Communion to the precipice of schism. Locally, disagreements about biblical
hermeneutics, sexuality, and other topics have prompted a minority of
Episcopalians to leave this Church for another church. Future clashes may focus
on questions about the extent to which virtual Christian communities can or
should replace physical communities, the desirability of ecumenical and
interfaith unity, etc.
I find
digging for bedrock exhausting. Finding time for theological reading and
conversations means leaving other important tasks undone. Even then, I am
constantly aware of how little reading and excavating of the detritus atop the
bedrock that I actually accomplish. I am also keenly aware of how inadequate my
efforts to describe Christian bedrock are. Nevertheless, we must dig for
bedrock. Otherwise, the exodus of people who recognize the sand that prior
generations regarded as bedrock will simply grow until Christianity twenty or
fifty years from now is a tiny remnant, resembling the Flat
Earth Society more than it does Jesus.
Rethinking
Christian bedrock is an iterative and collaborative process. No single Christian,
not even a Pope, can authoritatively define Christian bedrock. My July
contribution to the Episcopal Café's Magazine (“Life after Death,” Part One and Two) contended that
critical-historical biblical studies, advances in knowledge, and globalization require
reconsidering Christianity's historic teachings about life after death. My
musings prompted a lengthy rebuttal posted in The Living Church blog that defended the
Church's historic teachings. Both the rebuttal and most of the comments on the
Café's website opposed my attempt to rethink the meaning of life after death. Sadly,
no respondent proposed an alternative reconstruction of Christianity's historic
teachings about life after death. Failing to conduct fresh excavations to
uncover Christianity's real bedrock condemns the Church to a slow, lingering,
and irreversible decline that will inexorably culminate in its own death. The Church's
only hope, as Bishop Spong declared in one of his book titles, is to change or
to die. I, for one, prefer the challenge of change to death.
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