The ‘blue parakeets’ of the title are those loud, squawking, irritating bits of scripture we prefer to gloss over or ignore – or, as McKnight puts it, tame and cage. They are the bits of scripture that don’t fit neatly into our own system, that challenge our preferred understanding and generally run the risk of putting holes in our favourite arguments.

The first half of the book sets out the various approaches typically taken by Bible readers and interpreters. It’s a necessarily condensed characterisation but the general thrust is that there are those (at least among those who still take scripture seriously) who stick with what the Bible says as valid for all time, those who read the Bible through the lens of their particular denominational or theological ‘creeds’ and those who seek to read scripture in a way that is sympathetic to their tradition but acknowledge the need for ‘contemporising’ their understanding. He offers further, narrower characterisations within, particularly, the first category – for example, those who read the Bible as a ‘rule book’ or those who see only a series of blessings or rewards.

It is into the last category (the contemporising one) I would place myself. And in particular, a preference for what might be described as a fairly post-modern approach. However, I don’t believe that that has to mean that the Bible can be interpreted in any way one chooses. I’ve written about this before and mentioned my appreciation for the literary approach of Stanley Fish and his ‘interpretive communities’. In essence, our interpretations of any literature will always be coloured and bounded by the community within which we find ourselves reading that work. In other words, our church upbringing is going to place the limits on our interpretation of the Bible – always allowing for a bit of pushing the boundaries of course.

Although McKnight doesn’t mention ‘interpretive communities’, that would be my understanding of what he is getting at. But the point McKnight makes takes it a stage further, into an area I hadn’t really appreciated but see as being a necessary and logical extension. Not only does our interpretive community provide the ‘boundary’ conditions, if we are honest in our intention of being part of that community, we must use that tradition actively in our engagement with scripture. But that active engagement is a two-way street. We must bring our faith tradition to bear on our Biblical interpretation, but also allow our reading of scripture to push the boundaries of that tradition. And the crucial thing is that that faith tradition is one which is also affected by and interacts with contemporary culture and society and cannot help but be shaped by it.

Sympathetic contemporising is done with regard to the faith tradition, but acknowledges its changing nature – changes that come about through its mission to remain relevant in a changing world. And the point that McKnight makes is that this ever-changing re-interpretation of God’s will is the story of the Bible. It is a book, or series of stories, which charts the continuing reinterpretation of God’s guidance and will in ever-changing circumstances. Of course there is the unchanging meta-narrative of creation, fall, exile, reconciliation but all else is contemporary re-interpretation.

The second half of the book uses the issue of women in ministry to show how some interpretations of scripture have failed to appreciate this changing interpretation and have made the Bible into a stagnant rule book. I won’t rehearse the arguments here, but I believe them to be fair.

But it leads me to the point I really wanted to make and the point which has struck me as I was reading the book.

If we accept that the Bible is the witness to a continuously-varying contextualisation and contemporising of God’s will (and I am persuaded that it is) then it places in interesting imperative on the church, its leadership and its theologians.

It seems to me that the purpose of the Bible then is not to be a source of blindly-applied rules, but rather a model for sacrilising the profane. In other words, in each and every age, we need to look at contemporary culture and work out where God is in that. The places we find God must then be celebrated, applauded and encouraged. And, of course, where we don’t find God, we seek to effect change.

But what are we looking for?

Once again I find myself in agreement with McKnight as he points out what God is ‘about’ – restoration to wholeness of individuals with themselves, with each other, with creation and, of course, with God.

And he makes one further challenging point – our model for wholeness is pre-fall (however we wish to read Genesis 1 & 2). Everything else up until Christ is a fallen model – so why are we using it? With Jesus, we are renewed, in a new community, enlivened and encouraged by the Spirit, who gifts us with discernment – discernment to see God at work in creation, in relationships, in communities. Again, why reduce that to following a set of rules from a fallen era?

Share/Bookmark

I recently wrote about the BBC programme, ‘A Church in Crisis?’. In that article I picked up on the issue of secularism, even suggesting that a fellow blogger had mistakenly promulgated a misconception. Peter very kindly replied to my article but his comment was caught by an over-zealous spam filter and didn’t appear until he questioned me about it. He questioned my interpretation of secularism and suggested that in its promotion of egalitarianism it serves a very useful function; undermining power structures (especially religious ones) and promoting individual control.

Peter’s usage is, I would suggest, more true to the root understanding of secularism – the separation of church and state. This is a part of the definition of secularism found on the Secular Society‘s website:

Secularism supports the individual against the pressure of the group and the individual conscience against the dogma of the group.

I can’t help but think that these are words which the church could easily get behind and endorse. And yet, here is the problem with words. They accumulate baggage that ends up creating division which isn’t present in the core definition. Or perhaps, one might say that words are twisted to mean whatever we need them to mean in our own context.

Secularism is one such. From a Christian perspective, it is often used almost pejoratively – the implicit threat it contains to the religious establishment turns it into something tainted. Yet, one cannot deny that it is a word which has been seized by many as a banner or slogan around which to rally in opposition to religion.

What’s the answer then? At worst, one falls into the post-modern malaise of having define one’s terms every time. It is, undoubtedly, necessary to separate the ‘word’ from the inherited baggage at times. Yet it is often the ‘baggage’ which gives a word its richness of meaning. The problem with words is that they’re all we have to explain things by. Yet, on the other hand, they’re not all we have to show Christianity by. We may be followers of the Word, but we are known as such by our actions.

Share/Bookmark

The entire trajectory of Scripture points to a kaleidoscopic people of God, ever more diverse, with always surprising revelations of unlikely people using their gifts in unexpected and even subversive ways to encourage the family and bless the world.

A simple enough statement but about something that has just whooshed past me without me noticing. It’s such an obvious statement about the witness of scripture that I can’t help but feel somewhat dim for only just noticing it.

Of course, as for the implications…

Share/Bookmark

The first is an article by Richard B Hays which is an adaptation of a lengthier book section. It is a pretty comprehensive statement of the conservative position on homosexuality. I recall reading the full book section in 2nd year New Testament studies and found it to be useful then. That was not long before General Assembly discussed the issue of human sexuality. The Mission and Discipleship report (.doc file, via OneKirk) and the congregation discussion resource document (1.5M pdf file, via OneKirk) they produced drew heavily on this work for the conservative perspective. It was also at the heart of a ‘refutation‘ at the time by Paul Middleton, but that work never fully engaged with Hays and so I was left feeling that it was a somewhat selective and not entirely convincing counter-argument.

The second referenced article is by Kim Fabricius (on Ben Myers blog) is a useful ‘in a nutshell’ view from the other side of the debate. The comments are extensive and worth a skim through. It is not a point-by-point argument and assumes a degree of ‘honest’ scholarship which recognises the ambiguity in many of the scriptural references to homosexual activity. If that’s not your ‘place’ then I would recommend doing some wider reading before decrying what Kim says. An ‘honest’ approach will/should leave Romans 1 as one of the few ‘unambiguous’ texts which need to be dealt with. Thereafter you may engage with his propositions and reach your own conclusion.

Finally, the third article referenced is not a theology one, but rather a media comment on a recent sex scandal in Australia. It makes some very valid moral/ethical observations which, I think, are quite pertinent to the whole discussion.

*Updated 18/7/11 to fix dead links

Share/Bookmark

As I read it I was reminded of an observation from Barth which I think I’ve previously mentioned – that the church has always been a minority. The implication is that it always will be, and that that’s no bad thing. In the light of Pagitt’s comments it even makes sense (to me anyway). It opens up the whole question of the purpose of the church. In a sense it only ever needs to be a minority if it sees its purpose as finding where God is at work and joining in. ‘Church’ then becomes the place where church members are spiritually renewed and sustained and sent out to mission again. Their mission purpose is to make disciples of all nations. But does that need to mean growing a church congregation? OK, so it raises issues of ‘Christian imperialism’ when we count those who are working for ‘the good’ to be disciples, but then the issue is about the kingdom, and not the church. It also ‘meets the requirement’ for the church to be ‘in the world, but not of it’. And it has a somewhat liberal, vaguely universalist, soteriology. But that’s just theology and a few proof texts will soon take care of that.

But it also throws into question the whole issue of the EC movement. Is it actually necessary to establish churches to do mission work? The answer must be, “no,” but what then is EC for? It seems to me that EC is, in a sense, a by-product of missional work. Or, at least, it can be. It can also be a project in and of itself. Context is the key, I suppose.

It also raises some interesting questions for the Church of Scotland, particularly at this cash-strapped time and as it considers its ability to meet its Third Article and be a presence in every part of Scotland. Maybe by trying to be ‘church’ everywhere it will never succeed; but as the missional bringer of the kingdom, that may be a different story. A lot of joined-up thinking required I think.

Share/Bookmark

The first one is to to with healing. In Mark 7:31-37 we read of Jesus healing the deaf man. It’s a story that many, I guess, will be familiar with and look at it on the surface level. In it we see Jesus performing a miracle and so we glorify God and praise Him for His ability to heal, even from serious afflictions. But in so saying, I have fallen into the trap that the reflection for that day wanted to highlight. We see deafness as an ‘affliction’ and something that needs to be ‘healed’.

The reflection raised the issue that many deaf people cannot identify with the man in this story. They simply do not see themselves as ‘ill’ or ‘afflicted’. Their deafness is as much about who they are as how they look, how they think and so on. It is an integral part of their self-identity. Is a deaf person simply someone who needs to be healed? Is deafness seen as an imperfection, a blot on their humanity? When we see only the ‘sickness’ (as perceived from a so-called ‘normal’ perspective) we don’t see the person and that does indeed devalue them.

But what of this healing story from Mark? The reading notes offered a number of ways to interpret the story. Perhaps, in this instance, restoration of hearing was the man’s greatest need. Another interpretation might be that the ‘healing’ was not not strictly a restoration of hearing, but of the self-esteem and confidence needed to be part of a society which did look askance at such a thing. After all the man went away ‘speaking clearly’ – something he was previously unable to do. Regardless of how you interpret the story, what is plain is that we need to be aware of the preconceptions we bring and that our ‘desirable outcome’ isn’t necessarily what others would want or see as important.

The reflection also raises a bigger issue (at least I think it is a bigger issue) – that of self-identity. This starts to impinge on my hobby-horse. I am sometimes asked what the difference is between realised and inaugurated eschatology and this blog entry, for me, highlights one of the crucial distinctions.

Realised eschatology would take the view that a deaf person is God’s creation and so their deafness is very much part of who they are. The expression of the kingdom now (realised) would be a full acceptance of that state and for a work to be done to ensure inclusiveness and  acceptance of all people, as they are, breaking down the cultural ‘norms’ that act as barriers to participation. ‘Full acceptance of that state’ does not mean that we accept how people are treated, nor does it imply that we do not continue to find ways and means to enable greater participation.

However, there is, I think, a danger in such a position. It risks too great a focus on identity being wrapped up in who we are. Our identity becomes self-created and risks becoming self-obsessed. “You must accept me as I am, and if you don’t you have devalued God’s creation.” It overlooks the scriptural assertion that we are made in God’s image and that our identity is not found in our own self but in Jesus Christ. And this is not an issue of physical or mental attributes. Our identity in Christ is the valued (but imperfect in so many ways) creation we are now; loved by God to the extent that His Son died on a cross so that all of humanity might be reconciled to Him. And our identity is as those who are also called to share in the new creation, both now in the life of the Spirit, but also in the hopeful future, in resurrected life as it was affirmed through the resurrection of Christ and promised to all who believe.

A word here about the opposite of realised eschatology – that of futurist eschatology. Such a perspective sees this world as imperfect but also transitory. Suffering is something to be tolerated because of the greater ‘reward’ still to come. At its worst, it is a view that is complicit with oppression and injustice. At its best it becomes nothing more than a ‘good moral life’ with little Christian distinctiveness. It is dualist and Gnostic, encouraging a view of the ‘badness’ of the physical and the ‘goodness’ of the spiritual.

Inaugurated eschatology seeks to hold that tension of ‘now and not yet’. It acknowledges that we have the kingdom ‘now’, albeit not in its full glory. It acknowledges that in so claiming, we cannot be complicit in systems and structures which deny participation or devalue creation. It questions injustice and encourages ethical living. But it also acknowledges that there is a future hope, when creation will be restored and healed in fullness; where participation and acceptance are no longer issues that need to be ‘worked on’. It is a theological perspective that I believe the majority of Christians already hold; they just don’t put the label on it. But it’s why I think it’s an important theological area. It can be too easy to slip into either of the other positions.

And back to our original thought. The issue of ‘disability’ challenges our theological position and it particularly challenges our perceptions of identity. If we see a disabled person as ‘sick’ or a ‘victim’ we risk not seeing the person and valuing the person. If we fully accept who they are and ‘what’ they are, we also risk losing sight of the Christian distinctiveness that looks beyond what we all are now to the future fulfilment of our true identity. A more balanced view, seeing us all in our true identity in Christ, would also avoid much of the ‘us’ and ‘them’ language of this last paragraph and perhaps have avoided the need to blog on it at all.

Share/Bookmark

It’s not a ‘big read’. It only took me a couple of days to get through it. It’s written in a light, very conversational tone so it skips along at an easy pace and engages you in the unfolding story. That story is Miller’s faith journey as he questions many of the religious baggage he carries as well as much of his behaviour and attitude towards himself and others. For that reason it’s very much about ‘experience’ and it has been heavily criticised for just that. In a sense it is very self-absorbed with faith growth being about growing as an individual and reconciling many of the big questions about relationships and life through a very personal lens. In essence, it starts with ‘self’ and aims God-ward.

Now this is often taken as a bit of an anathema by many who would suggest that we must always start with God and derive our meaning from that point. No argument there except that that simply isn’t the thought-world we live in these days. And interestingly (for me anyway), this was one of the themes that came out of my Masters research discussion the other day. It’s all very well having a go at someone’s ‘upside-down’ theological starting point, but if the language we use as theologians simply makes no sense to our current cultural context, we might as well be speaking Martian.

Blue Like Jazz is about ‘experiencing’ Christianity. Miller refuses to accept the label ‘Christian’ for himself, preferring instead to speak about Christian spirituality – he is a spiritual person who derives spiritual meaning from a Christian framework. I think his observations are and his experiences are exceedingly challenging and encouraging. It is a powerful testimony. I believe it could have been made even more powerful by more direct reference to scripture or theology, but that wasn’t the purpose of the book. It’s a book you could easily give to a ‘seeker’ (another contemporary term) and not feel you are Bible-bashing, but are still challenging their self-centredness and worldly outlook.

But I can’t help but feel that it still leaves a bit of a gulf between ‘true’ Christianity and some sense of a watered-down, post-modern, feel-good gospel. I wonder if Christian spirituality becomes another ‘commodity’ in the pick-n-mix religion supermarket and that if it’s all about being selfless and relationship friendly, then why not whichever framework works best for you? Why does it have to be a Christian one?

I know the book isn’t intended to be a theological tome that will encourage the pomo-generation to flock into churches, but I wonder if it short-changes those it does draw closer to Jesus. By ducking the “but why?” questions and giving an answer that is not really much better than “just because and anyway, it works for me”, it leaves open the possibility of creating either Christianity-lite or a lot of disappointed people when they discover they don’t have the underpinnings that support the times when the ‘big questions’ really matter (like when, as a friend might say, they are standing in the pits of hell asking, “how did I end up here?”).

As I say, the book isn’t meant to take people to that place (solidity, not hell), but rather expose them to a testimony that might get them engaging in the discussion about what Christianity (or Christian spirituality) is all about. And that’s not a bad starting point. Indeed it’s a place where many ‘hit them over the head with the Bible’ churches simply can’t even get people to in the first place. But the big question for me is how you then engage them in meaningful discussion that is theologically sound, God-centred and unashamedly Christian? And how to draw them beyond even selflessness into a concern and compassion for the world we live in?

Share/Bookmark

Now these might seem somewhat disparate subjects but they are in fact closely related in many ways. Let’s take the first issue of the Church of Scotland as a national church. The 3rd Article Declaratory (part of the church’s ‘constitution’) states that the the Church of Scotland is “a national church representative of the Christian Faith of the Scottish people”. Now, there are many, many problems with this statement. The first is that there is an assumption that Scotland is a Christian country. The nest is that the CofS should presume to represent that. But I think that a bigger issue is that it its emphasis is all wrong.  If we (the CofS) take that responsibility seriously then the implication is that we are to be driven by how the faith of the Scottish people is made manifest. And therein lies the heart of the problem. Scotland is not a Christian country. In fact it’s debateable whether it ever was. And what Christianity can be found is often a bizarre mix of superstition and eclectic practices borrowed from different denominationas, old-wives’ tales and pop-culture. Funerals are a case in point. Joe Public wants their beloved relative given a proper send-off, but all too often they don’t want too much of that ‘God-stuff’ because Beloved Relative wasn’t too keen on the church. But we dress up the justification for performing the funeral in theological language. It’s a opportunity to evangelise, or show God’s love, or express a sense of hope which may be badly needed at that time. Now I know that we cannot determine how anyone will react or respond to what is said or done at a funeral (or indeed any other setting for ‘religious ordinances’) but is this just a way of painting another rose-tinted layer onto the glasses we look at society with?

So we compromise, letting schmaltzy poems be read at funerals, allowing ‘sponsors’ to bring a child for baptism and so on. And in our willingness to be accommodating we also look to embrace popular culture. Church has to ‘change’ to make itself more attractive, more appealing to an audience who can’t/won’t engage with straight Biblical teaching. We’ve got to ‘explore spirituality’ where multi-sensory worship ceases to be a way of worshipping God through our different senses but is about making us feel ‘touched’ through our own sensory experiences. The focus has shifted from God to us.

And we cry that we are in a postmodern world that we need to engage with in the same terms. Moral relativism, the value of ‘experience’, the search for ‘icons’ (defined as ways of helping us focus on God). The problem is, rather than engage with this cultural context, we have embraced it. The Bible no longer has authority, after all, truth is relative. Worship is only worthwhile when we get something out of it. And God is to be found in many things, nature, creativity, relationships and Jesus is sidelined or, at best, simply a good example.

Of course there is then the backlash to this. Fundamentalism rears its head and from the pulpit there are condemnations of culture and calls to return to the truth only found in scripture – “the full and final revelation of God” apparently!

Christianity is, and always should be, counter-cultural, and that also means the culture that exists within the church. It must engage and question what happens in society and in the structures of governance and religion. It must be the example of the ‘other’ in its social context. The other, of course, being the kingdom of God being made manifest in the here and now and all the while pointing to its greater promise of what is yet to come.

Stewart also wrote recently about ‘exclusivity’ and how it’s not always a bad thing. And that leads me towards a conclusion, of sorts. The CofS wants to be a national church and attempts to do that by inclusivity and responsibility, but I’m not sure this is the best approach. On the class blog for the tutorial about territorial ministry, I made a suggestion. A simple change to one word in that part of the 3rd Article would make a world of difference:

“a national church representative of the Christian Faith to the Scottish people”

The whole focus changes. We continue to be a national church in the sense that we commit to a national presence. But, first and foremost, our duty is to represent Christ, not the people. There is still freedom to engage creatively. But there is still the duty to be faithful to scripture. We can still supply ‘religious ordinances’ but they are no longer to be driven by people’s expectations.

After all, the church is not meant to be all things to all people, but is meant to be Christ to all people, in all contexts.

Share/Bookmark

In one respect such discussions are interesting because it gives you an opportunity explore the ‘real’ story a bit more. But I wonder if puncturing the ‘mythology’ that has grown up around the Christmas story is altogether valuable. When we assume three wise men or conflate the timing of wise men and shepherds or have Mary travelling on a non-existent donkey, does it really undermine any fundamental doctrines or Christian ‘truths’? By allowing ‘stories’ to grow around these events do we not, rather, encourage a greater sense of involvement and ownership in those who hear and retell these stories? So long, of course, as the underlying gospel is faithfully represented.

On the other hand, by exploring and exposing some of the accepted wisdom in the traditional interpretations, there is opportunity to reveal further colour in the stories. On Sunday past, at my placement church, there was the third in a short series of advent reflections – myrrh, the other two being gold and frankincense (the 4th Sunday being given over to the junior church nativity service). The ‘traditional’ teaching on the gift of myrrh is that it is looking ahead to Jesus’ death as it is often used as an embalming ointment. However, Stuart began his sermon with an ‘all you never knew about myrrh’ presentation. I must confess to wondering where it was going and he duly went – myrrh has just has many uses, in fact more, for the living as for the dead and so myrrh could just as easily be a reminder of some of the many facets of Jesus. Myrrh has healing properties, it soothes, it takes away the stench of decay. When we explore the ‘story’ and even allow other stories to come into play, we unwrap a few more layers and thereby show the depth of meaning behind the simple ‘facts’.

There’s another thing that stories do. Facts explain things. Facts tell us where limits are. They provide ‘data’. Stories bring colour and depth and vibrancy. They bring out meaning and yet can also shroud in mystery. How can mere facts reveal the mystery of a virgin birth, God incarnate as a baby or the sense of wonder experienced by those who came to worship?

I think I’d rather see the mystery than the trivia, interesting though it may be.

Share/Bookmark

I’m very glad I did. I found it to be quite a compelling read. Just to be clear – it’s a novel and it’s ‘fiction’. By that I mean that the story is made up. Like many novels it’s a composite of the author’s experience, circle of friends, family and so on. In that respect, the outline story isn’t even all that great. It’s contrived and compressed and wouldn’t generally merit a second glance in a discount book shop. It’s also a bit ‘American’. But, if you ignore that aspect of it and treat it simply as a vehicle for the ‘main story’ then you’ll find a very thought-provoking piece of writing.

On one level it’s an apologetic, on another it’s very evangelistic but I enjoyed it for its theology. It can be read ‘lightly’ and without any real engagement but then it would be a pretty poor novel. But it deserves to be read ‘engagingly’. It does a great job, in my opinion, of trying to find words to describe the Trinity and the consequences of its presentation of the Trinity (I don’t want to give away too much – it is genuinely worth reading). It stirs up issues of ecclesiology and what it means to be ‘church’. It challenges Christian behaviour and our response to others. It tackles the big questions of evil and why do bad things happen. It touches on eschatology and heaven and rebirth. Above all it’s a story about redemption and what it really means.

In many respects it resonates with my own developing theology. It comes up against the usual language barriers when a word or phrase is used that you twitch a little at. But the the book’s trying to speak of God and language is never sufficient to do that. So in that respect, the book isn’t ‘perfect’. But then I’ve yet to come across a theology book that is. It would be a great book to run a discussion group on. I suspect it would challenge many of the popular conceptions of God and the Christian life.

I do see why it created such a stir when it appeared. Conservative evangelicals especially were up in arms (here’s a little spoiler – God the Father is mostly portrayed as a comfortably built Afro-American woman – but there’s a very good reason for that). It definitely challenges much ‘cosy’ Christianity. It certainly challenges Sunday Christians. It gives Bibliolatry a real savaging. What it does emphasise though, over and over again, is that being a Christian is about being in a relationship with God. Where the book may well challenge you is what the nature of that relationship is.

Share/Bookmark