Interesting: Nick Cave and The Gospel of Mark

Almost ten years ago, Canongate Books published a series of single books from the Bible with prefaces from some unlikely people. Bono did the Psalms, Doris Lessing took Ecclesiastes, and Australian post-punk/goth singer-songwriter Nick Cave introduced Mark. I hadn't gotten around to reading Cave's piece until recently. For those with only a passing familiarity with Cave, a musician known primarily for the dark and violent content of his lyrics, the choice seemed odd. But anyone who had been listening closely knew that Cave's music had long been soaked in Biblical language and ideas (his recent, critically acclaimed record Dig!!! Lazarus Dig!!! was a concept album about - you guessed it - Lazarus, the best line of which comes in "Hold On To Yourself" where Cave asks, "Does Jesus only love a man who loses?"). While definitely unrelenting in its intensity and not for the remotely faint of heart, I recommend his music, esp from The Boatman's Call record onward, where his obsession with Christ and all things theological comes more clearly into focus. A few excerpts from the aforementioned introduction:

One day, I met an Anglican vicar and he suggested that I give the Old Testament a rest and read Mark instead. I hadn't read the New Testament at that stage because the New Testament was about Jesus Christ and the Christ I remembered from my choirboy days was that wet, all-loving, etiolated individual that the church proselytised. I spent my pre-teen years singing in the Wangaratta Cathedral Choir and even at that age I recall thinking what a wishy-washy affair the whole thing was. The Anglican Church: it was the decaf of worship and Jesus was their Lord.

"Why Mark?", I asked. "Because it's short", he replied. I was willing to give anything a go, so I took the vicar's advice and read it and the Gospel of Mark just swept me up.

Here, I am reminded of that picture of Christ, painted by Holman Hunt, where He appears, robed and handsome, a lantern in His hand, knocking on a door: the door to our hearts, presumably. The light is dim and buttery in the engulfing darkness. Christ came to me in this way, lumen Christi, with a dim light, a sad light, but light enough. Out of all the New Testament writings - from the Gospels, through the Acts and the complex, driven letters of Paul to the chilling, sickening Revelation - it is Mark's Gospel that has truly held me.

---------------

Even His disciples, who we would hope would absorb some of Christ's brilliance, seem to be in a perpetual fog of misunderstanding, following Christ from scene to scene with little or no comprehension of what is going on. So much of the frustration and anger that seems at times almost to consume Christ is directed at His disciples and it is against their persistent ignorance that Christ's isolation seems at its most complete. It is Christ's divine inspiration, versus the dull rationalism of those around Him, that gives Mark's narrative its tension, its drive. The gulf of misunderstanding is so vast that His friends 'lay hold of Him' thinking,'He is beside himself' (3:21). The Scribes and Pharisees, with their monotonous insistence on the Law, provide the perfect springboard for Christ's luminous words. Even those Christ heals betray Him as they run to the town to report the doings of the miraculous healer, after Christ has insisted that they tell noone. Christ disowns His own mother for her lack of understanding. Throughout Mark, Christ is in deep conflict with the world. He is trying to save, and the sense of aloneness that surrounds Him is at times unbearably intense. Christ's last howl from the cross is to a God He believes has forsaken Him: "Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani"

The rite of baptism - the dying of one's old self to be born anew - like so many of the events in Christ's life is already flavoured metaphorically by Christ's death and it is His death on the cross that is such a powerful and haunting force, especially in Mark. His preoccupation with it is all the more obvious, if only because of the brevity with which Mark deals with the events of His life. It seems that virtually everything that Christ does in Mark's narrative is in some way a preparation for His death - His frustration with His disciples and His fear that they have not comprehended the full significance of His actions; the constant taunting of the church officials; the stirring up of the crowds; His miracle-making so that witnesses will remember the extent of His divine power. Clearly, Mark is concerned primarily with the death of Christ to such an extent that Christ appears consumed by His imminent demise, thoroughly shaped by His death.

The Christ that emerges from Mark, tramping through the haphazard events of His life, had a ringing intensity about him that I could not resist. Christ spoke to me through His isolation, through the burden of His death, through His rage at the mundane, through His sorrow. Christ, it seemed to me was the victim of humanity's lack of imagination, was hammered to the cross with the nails of creative vapidity.

To read more about Cave's unique take on Christianity, check out his 2003 interview on Salon.com, "The Resurrection of Nick Cave".

Emily Dickinson - Poem 1487

Emily Dickinson is one of my favorite poets, and last night I came across this one.  Any words I add would detract.

The Savior must have been

A docile Gentleman—
To come so far so cold a Day
For little Fellowmen—

The Road to Bethlehem
Since He and I were Boys
Was leveled, but for that 'twould be
A rugged Billion Miles—

What's Under Your Mattress?

I've been slowly (in a devotional kind of way) been reading through the book of John.  It's been a sincere and meaningful endeavor, but it's one of those things that I consider to be part of prayer - it's a two way conversation between me and God, so I feel like it would be a kind of kiss-and-tell type thing if I were to discuss much of that in this forum.  HOWEVER.  (There's always a "however" isn't there?)  However, these devotional times have lead me into other areas, and those areas I have no compunction discussing. 

The other day, while reading something in John 5, I was cross-referenced to a passage in the book of Luke.  The passage isn't really the point here, so I'll spare you the reading time.  The point I'm so circuitously getting to is this:  as I was reading this other passage in Luke, it struck me that this book must have been incredibly scandalous when it came off the presses.  

Have you ever wondered how a particular book of the Bible was received by those first readers?  Take the gospels for instance.   You can read any number of explanations about who the writers probably were, something about their intended audience, and more than a little about their imputed theology, but what was the impact of their first publication?  I figure that Luke, more than the other three, was tremendously controversial.  I imagine that his first readers were both scandalized and mesmerized.  It must have been the sort of book they had to hide under the mattress so that others wouldn't see it.  

When I was a kid, I don't know 10 or 11 years old or so, I went into my father's library and took down his copy of The French Lieutenant's Woman and sneaked it to my room.  I had heard my parents making veiled comments about it earlier in the summer and it was on the "grown ups" shelf, so - what was I to do?  As I read it, it became abundantly clear to me that I definitely wasn't supposed to be reading it, so after turning off the flashlight from reading it under the covers in bed, I promptly hid it under my matress where it was surely safe from discovery by my mom.  Don't be so judgemental, I’m sure that you had something hidden under your mattress too! 

The other gospels certainly sniff around the edges of the social scandal with their casts of prostitutes, tax collectors and sinners of various kinds, but Luke dives with lusty delight into a life with Jesus who seemed to know every sinner up close and personal and was enthusiastically willing to violate every social norm and barrier he came across.  It’s hard to imagine a religious leader, much less the Son of God, having such low standards of propriety considering the crowd he hung around with. 

I imagine that early readers of Luke’s gospel must have read it in disbelieving awe that lured them into a sense of freedom and fulness of life they never new existed, and I imagine that many new Lukan Christians appeared to others as unrepentant rebels who had no respect for traditional standards of morality.  They certainly couldn’t fit into traditional Jewish ways, nor were they very acceptable in Hellenistic communities.  Who knows what the Romans thought.  I also imagine that it was this very new found freedom from traditional social constraints that could have led them astray.  Failing to integrate the teachings of Jesus about a higher righteousness into their thinking and practice, they could easily have become first century versions of Haight-Ashbury hippies.  Perhaps that is what Paul’s many admonitions and correctives are all about, and maybe that’s why the pastoral letters are so intent on restoring some of the discipliine of traditional mores.

The point is that it’s very hard for our modern eyes to read Luke, or any of the gospels, with a full appreciation of how radical they were and how accurate were the words of the Pharisees when they accused the early Christians of turning the world upside down.  

And when the candle was snuffed, the book was carefully hidden under the mattress!

Just What Are We Doing?

Most churches do a lot. A quick glance at the “events calendar” of many churches shows something on nearly every day of the week. Something for kids, something for teens, something for ‘tweens, something for the elderly, something for men, something for women, something for newly marrieds, something for yet-to-be-marrieds, something for the divorced, something, something, something. Not that something is bad, I just wonder if it’s the thing we’re really called to be doing.

Most churches I've known get occasional calls from people needing help. They try to help as many of these people as they can. They try to be discerning about it, have policies and procedures, but the bottom line is that they want to show Jesus’ love to as many people as possible in as many different ways as possible.

I recently spoke with a man who had a need. He thought that “church” was the obvious place to turn to in a time of need. But then he was either bluntly told “no” or “sorry, we only help our own church members.” As I sat listening I was thinking that when Jesus commands us to love our neighbors (Mathew 22:39, etc.), I’m pretty sure that doesn’t translate as “sorry we only help our own church members.” That’s what clubs do, not the Body of Christ.

How is it that, when so many churches are doing so many things, people seem genuinely surprised when they encounter the love of Christ? What are we doing? Matthew 5:16 and 1 Peter 2:12 tell us to live in such a way that there’s no other explanation than for people to give glory to God. Jesus commands us to be “salt and light” (Matthew 5:13-14). I worry that many of us live lives condemned by James 2:14-16. We recognize that people around us need help, we might even say something about it, but we do nothing.

Are we so busy doing things that we don’t do the things God expects of us?  Personally, I like a church to be missional in approach, but that has its traps too.  Perhaps soon I will post a series on my thoughts of these (although i don't seem to do well with series of posts on this blog). But suffice it to say for now that the church needs balance... Q.E.D.

Who's the Minister?

This past Sunday I had the pleasure of attending a meeting of a church I have been visiting lately (my friends can probably guess the name!).  In the meeting they discussed some of the ideas that the congregation had for the future - a kind of wish list if you will.  As is normal (not sure about normal, usual maybe) it got me to thinking.

This church is not a new church.  As I understand it they've been around for some fifty years but they've really been through some difficult times.  I've heard some stories, and they are sad ones, yet at this meeting on Sunday I heard voices of hope!  My friends out there know my philosophy on churches, and know that I firmly believe that some churches simply need to fold up shop and bury their dead.  I wonder how close this church was to having "Ichabod" scrawled across its door.  But I don't wonder too much.  You see, this church has come out of the proverbial wilderness!  On many levels, and in many ways, this seems like a new church.  A church on the brink of a new journey.  But once again, I digress...

So I get to reflecting on what this old/new church wants to do, and as my convoluted mind usually does I began to think of what it means to minister.  You see, more than anything I heard these kind people's desire to minister to one another and to their community.  Part of the challenge of a new beginning in a church is to realize that baggage of “tradition” (in both the good and bad sense) we bring into the church.  In a sense, this particular church has a clean slate, but that doesn’t mean we’re (yes, at this point I inject myself) free to “do church” any way we want. Instead, we feel the joyful but weighty responsibility to be sure to filter much of church through the Scriptures. One passage has been rocking my world. Consider Ephesians 4:11-16:

And he gave the apostles, the prophets, the evangelists, the shepherds and teachers, 12to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ, 13until we all attain to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to mature manhood, to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ, 14so that we may no longer be children, tossed to and fro by the waves and carried about by every wind of doctrine, by human cunning, by craftiness in deceitful schemes. 15Rather, speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, 16from whom the whole body, joined and held together by every joint with which it is equipped, when each part is working properly, makes the body grow so that it builds itself up in love.

Consider in particular, verses 11 and 12. Paul says that certain people have been given to the church, but notice who it is that is to do the work of ministry: the saints. The “apostles, the prophets, the evangelists, the shepherds and teachers” are given to equip the saints, not to do the work of ministry for them. While this may not initially seem like a big deal, the more I think about it, the more I wonder if our modern approach to church and “ministry” is entirely in keeping with passages like this and the many “one another” passages.

Here’s what I mean (and please feel free to push back if you think it’s necessary): in many (most?) churches, when a need arises, the members voice their need to the leaders, expecting the leaders to meet that need. The leaders, of course are paid to do exactly such a thing, and the easiest approach to meeting needs within the body is to create a program or a class. So, for example, if there are many young families, the easiest solution is a parenting “class.” If people are struggling with how to read their Bibles, the easiest solution is a class, taught by a paid staff member, because, after all, we pay them to “do ministry,” right?!

But of course, this should prompt the question of whether or not this approach actually equips the saints for the work of ministry. My inclination is that, no, it doesn’t. Instead, it makes us dependent on others (whom we pay) to answer our questions and meet our needs. But what if Paul, in keeping with the spirit of the “one another” passages had something else in mind?

Would it look any different if leaders in the church saw their “job” as equipping others to do ministry rather than doing ministry for them? I think it would mean more of an emphasis on relationship, accountability, community and discipleship. An environment in which we are truly encouraged to “bear one another’s burdens” (Galatians 6:1-2). I wonder if much of the way we have come to view ministry is more about the transmission of information than it is actually about equipping “the saints for the work of ministry.”

These thoughts are by no means an indictment on this church of which I speak.  They are merely thoughts based on observations I have made over a number of years and in many, many churches.  This old/new church has an opportunity before it, an opportunity that few that have sunk to the depths that apparently this one had nearly reached - an opportunity to start anew!

Opening Lines

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times" – Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

"It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen" - George Orwell, 1984

"In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever since" - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

"Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show" - Charles Dickens, David Copperfield

Every great story has a great beginning. Whether it's a classic work of fiction or a true-life account of someone's life, each story has to begin somewhere. So I find myself at a new beginning, and I wonder what will be the opening lines. “It was a dark and stormy night…”? In years past I recall working with those new to Christianity and we would always start by studying the Gospel of John. I guess it’s because it’s so simply and beautifully written, or maybe because of the intimate portrait of the Christ that it paints – I don’t know.

Anyway, I have started reading it again. This time I try to set aside all the “theological” viewpoints, arguments and criticisms and just try to read it. Of course it’s hard to do. It’s that whole pink elephant thing. But I have decided to try. To get back to those things I learned as a child – pray a bit, nothing intense, just a conversation (hoping like hell there is a God who is listening, otherwise, if overheard the men in the Good Humor coats will be coming for me), see! It’s just not that easy! But I digress. I will pray a bit, read a bit, and take a few minutes to ruminate. I vow not to analyze, criticize or any other -ize. I will be as the newborn babe desiring the milk of the word.

Creature or Creator: Who's the Monster?

I recently finished reading Mary Shelley's Frankenstein and I have to say I was awestruck. Previous to the reading, likely because of a lifetime of movie-watching, I was a torch-carrying, pitchfork-yeilding villager. All I ever knew of Frankenstein's monster was his savage, murdering ways; which could only be arrested by burning. I suppose this is the trap we fall into when we watch rather than read.

Shelley's novel does indeed show a violent, murdering monster but as the story develops I found myself tearful over the tenderness and lonliness of this involuntary being. I would even go so far as to say that by the end of the story I felt more compassion for the "monster" than for Dr. Frankenstein. I put quotation marks around monster for this reason: as I read this story I began to wonder who the real monster was - creature or creator.

Dr. Frankenstein created this living being, and having done so abandons it. What happened in Mary Shelley's life that drew her pen to such a thought? Knowing little or nothing of Shelley's life I am left to wonder if this is a personal work for her or a metaphor for what happens in real life. I don't know the statistics, and maybe someday when I have the time I will research it a bit, but I know that fahters abandoning their families has become an epidemic, especially in certain segments of our society; and I have to ask the obvious question - why is God so silent?  Has he too abandoned his creation?  Dr. Frankenstein, in having created this living, breathing creature, had a responsibility to care for and nurture this offspring. Instead, at the very moment of creation, the doctor fled his responsibilities, leaving this creature to the vagaries of a cold and uncaring world.

As the creature learns and grows, experiences the world and the cruelty of the people in it, he becomes bitter and rage takes control of his life. Frankenstein the creature comes into contact with several people with and from whom he begins to learn of love and community. Each time he begins to feel in some way connected with these people, he is discovered and violently driven away. Eventually, after many years of this and especially after a particularly emotional rejection, the creature becomes a monster. The monster finds the creator and explains:

"How can I move thee? Will no entreaties cause thee to turn a favourable eye upon thy creature, who implores thy goodness and compassion? Believe me, Frankenstein, I was benevolent; my soul glowed with love and humanity; but am I not alone, miserably alone? You, my creator, abhor me; what hope can I gather from your fellow creatures, who owe me nothing? They spurn and hate me. The desert mountains and dreary glaciers are my refuge. [...] These bleak skies I hail, for they are kinder to me than your fellow beings. If the multitude of mankind knew of my existence, they would do as you do, and arm themselves to for my destruction. Shall I not then hate them who abhor me? I will keep no terms with my enemies. I am miserable, and they shall share my wretchedness."

It is too late. The harshness and cruelness of the world around the creature, and the utter lonliness drive him to murder and revenge. Doesn't this sound so much like what we read about in the newspapers and hear on the news every single day? A child, raised by his minimum-wage-earning single mother of six, having no real connections involving love and kindness, raised on the streets, turns to a gang and ends up a violent criminal. And that's just one example, for the fact is we see this kind of thing all the time, probably even know people who have been the victim of abandonment.

While I cannot condone the crimes Shelley's "monster" commits, it becomes more understandable when we learn that his life's journey was such as it was. Which leaves me to wonder - who was the monster? The creature, abandoned at birth and treated horribly his while life? Or the good, intelligent, well-to-do doctor who so capriciously created and abandoned? We walk amongst monsters every day - but I think they're often not the ones I think they are.

There's a sermon here.  There's also a philosophical/theological metaphor here.  How many times have I turned my face to God and said, "How can I move thee? Will no entreaties cause thee to turn a favourable eye upon thy creature, who implores thy goodness and compassion? ... but am I not alone, miserably alone? You, my creator, abhor me..."  Yet, I find myself seeking the companionship of my creator nonetheless.

Stripped in Heaven

Not too long ago I went to a friend's church for their Wednesday night meeting where they talked about what heaven would be like.  There were many views, some obviously shaped from Sunday School teachings, others hopeful aspirations.  But there was one answer that I found intriguing. Luke, one of the pastors of the church (who also wears several other hats) made the statement that he wondered what it would be like in heaven when all those parts of him that didn't fit, or belong in heaven were stripped away. THEN - what would heaven be like?

This past Saturday night, Luke and I found ourselves on the computer at the same time, and through the divine miracle that is Google, we got into an IM chat. For a little while we chatted about some innocuous stuff - my new Ipod, computer stuff and so on. After a while we began chatting about his Wednesday night statement. It was a pretty interesting conversation, so we thought we'd share it here. I cut out the irrelevant, and too personal stuff, and corrected some of the typos, and I left in some bits of the natural conversation, but in essence - here's the conversation as it went. As with all posts on this site, I encourage you to write your comments, ask questions, argue, agree - whatever you'd like to do!

11:59 PM me: one more question, when you were speaking of the "stripping away" the other night - I've read a thought like that before, Merton or McLaren? I find that thought rather provocative!

11:59 PM Luke: yes. I've been thinking recently about it after listening to Rob Bell's series called "The Flames of Heaven"

12:00 AM CS Lewis and Dallas Willard allude to it. Almost a purgatory of sorts, but it is a change that must take place.

12:01 AM 1 Cor 3 also hints at it - 11For other foundation can no man lay than that is laid, which is Jesus Christ. 12Now if any man build upon this foundation gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, stubble;13Every man's work shall be made manifest: for the day shall declare it, because it shall be revealed by fire; and the fire shall try every man's work of what sort it is.

12:02 AM me: bell's series podcasted? I've been thinking about that a lot since you said it, and I'm not so sure I like it.

12:03 AM me: It's a pretty scary thought. Like maybe it might be a bit more comfortable if there would be less stripped away.

12:05 AM Luke: I am struggling with the idea. What if all I am living for is temporal, and suddenly (or slow burn) all the temporal is gone. What am I left with other than my redeemed soul? How comfortable will I be in my own skin?

12:06 AM Luke: You have to download directlyhttp://www.mhbcmi.org/listen/

12:08 AM Luke: Do you think I’m being heretical or is it just disturbing?

12:10 AM me: Disturbing! I've read that somewhere before, and I remember being very uncomfortable with it. Simply because if I take a long hard look (and really not that long OR hard), ugh! Leaves me in a kind of dead wall reverie.

12:13 AM Luke: Why change now it will be instantaneous later? We will be changed, but painless has not been promised.

12:15 AM I am doing some drum practice in between posts, so be patient if I lag. I napped so I'll be up till 1 or so.

12:17 AM me: Yeah, but I keep thinking about what it would be like to be more like Jesus. What kind of life would that be? Wed. night Dan asked what quality of Jesus... and all I kept thinking was that I'd need them all. Most of the time I feel like I have NONE! So where would that leave me in a heaven where all the dross is stripped away? So while seeking to be more like Christ may seem selfish, the alternative under this way of thinking would leave me on the outside looking in.

12:20 AM So, rather than throwing my arms up and saying what's the use, I find myself thinking the last few days that all of this is my choice. I make my life what I choose it to be. I am struggling these past couple of days thinking that this is a much more compelling reason to really live the 2 great commandments than merely avoiding hell and gaining heaven.

12:21 AM Luke: Christ gives freely to all.. but only if accepted by their will. If we fail to accept his gifts now, will it immediately be easier later? Each day we have opportunity to receive or reject Christ- that's all we need concern ourselves with. I think John 15 is a much more potent summary of salvation than Romans 3

12:22 AM Luke: To affirm your proposition.

12:24 AM Luke: If I am not changed in the process, what benefit is heaven? Most of my angst is internal.

12:26 AM me: Exactly! I think we're thinking exactly the same thing! John 15 is infinitely better! I have thought that for quite some time, but I always fear the old heretic moniker. Putting on the new life in Christ becomes so much more meaningful. Brings a whole new meaning to working out our own salvation

12:26 AM Luke: Rather than "I make my life what I choose it to be." I would rather think of it as "I receive the life that I choose it to be."

12:27 AM me: receive in what sense?

12:28 AM me: receive from whom?

12:28 AM Luke: Hey, pop the chat out of the window and you can full-screen it.
cool

12:29 AM Luke: It is great have these conversations archived. Kind of like live interactive journaling.
Just a couple clicks away from publishing my struggles.

12:30 AM me: full screen is cool!!! See, I'm not so sure how much we actually receive. You familiar with open theism?

12:31 AM Luke: like - future to be determined by my actions - God gave and stepped back?

12:33 AM me: That's part of it. I'm really not an open theist, but I do subscribe to some of their ideas.

12:39 AM me: see, I think too much has been made of "receiving” the gift of god. Everywhere I look in the Bibel, God presents man with choices, not so much giving gifts. So we choose how we will live from moment to moment.

12:40 AM Luke: And our choices are not "works" but really the actual state of our souls.

12:41 AM Where'd you get your copy of the "Bibel"

12:41 AM me: of course he has given us incredible gifts, life itself, a shot at eternal life, gifts of the spirit, etc. Exactly! We cannot earn salvation itself, but we "Work out our salvation!
me: if you must know, Bibel is German for Bible! LOL

12:42 AM Luke: I agree totally.

12:43 AM Luke: salvation is totally integrated with life.
we cannot compartmentalize it.

12:44 AM Luke: Where did we go wrong in Christianity?
me: so an integrated salvation becomes a series of localized choices

12:45 AM Luke: not salvation itself

12:46 AM Luke: not even localized choices, it cannot even be isolated like that. It is life itself. Every leaning of the heart is a detour or a more direct path - all enabled and guided by God as much as we will it.

12:47 AM Luke: That is how some people may have chosen Christ without consciously choosing.
It gives a chance to everyone.

12:52 AM me: When you were learning how to play the piano, did your fingers automatically go to the right keys? Probably not. You had to make choices on where to place your fingers, what order to press the keys, how hard, etc, etc. Only after time and practice did it become more "natural". When we are new to the "Christ-thing" I believe we really do learn how to be Christ-like. As far as people may have chosen Christ without consciously choosing, that's something I still haven't worked out altogether. Fascinating about your uncle-something. I'd like to hear more about that!

12:53 AM Luke: Exactly... the art of following Christ.

Angst That Surpasses All Understanding

There is this thing that gnaws at me. It's like a little voice in my head (and no... it's not audible thank you very much) and every time I start doing something, every time I read the Bible, or pray, or try to do something good (okay not every time) - I get that gnawing sensation. You know what I'm talking about - right? I'm talking about that part of me that always asks - Is this really me, am I being genuine or is this just me trying to be Joe Christian?

This kind of thought has eaten at me ever since I was a teenager. Sometimes I look at some of my friends, the ones I think are these spiritual giants and wonder if they ever think the same things. I mean it all seems so natural and genuine with them. I want to be genuine, and I wonder if I'll ever get to the point that it's as natural to me as it is to them. 

Now, I realize that it's not a competition. I know all the old sayings about comparing yourself with others, but it's not really like that at all. It's more that I recognize within myself this restlessness, this angst about my own Christianity. Sometimes I wish I could just relax about it. It's not all the time - sometimes I do experience that peace, but... But often I feel like Sartre's Roquentin when he said, "It would be better if I could only stop thinking. Thoughts are the dullest things. Duller than flesh. " or Dostoyevsky, "...to be acutely conscious is a disease, a real, honest-to-goodnes disease." Really - sometimes I wish I could just stop thinking about it all!

Paul said that when we are crucified with Christ and are resurrected into a new life, we are set free from the bonds of sin, that we have a new nature. I guess that's part of my journey - learning to let Jesus be Jesus in my life.

Judas and Jesus - BFF?

I just finished reading a translation of the Gospel of Judas and the accompanying commentaries and articles by Meyer, Ehrman and others (Washington: National Georaphic, 2006). The Gospel of Judas appears within a 66 page long book called the Codex Tchacos. In the last several years, The Codex was brought to the attention of scholars after being acquired by the Maecenas Foundation for Ancient Art in 2000.

Reading the second or third century writings, often labeled “Gnostic” by scholars, such as the Nag Hammadi writings discovered in the 1940s, can be very bewildering. This document claims to be Jesus’ own secret discussion (a dialogue gospel) with a disciple, and the content of Jesus’ teaching is very philosophically dualistic and quite different than what is encountered in the gospels of the New Testament.

In comparison to some of the other “Gnostic” writings such as the Gospel of Thomas, the Codex Tchacos is “run of the mill” in many respects. The dualism of the Gospel of Judas, in which there is a bad material realm and a perfect spiritual realm with sparks of the perfect realm trapped in inferior human bodies, is characteristic of most of the Nag Hammadi writings. Likewise common in these Christian intellectual circles is the notion that the God who sent the Christ to bring knowledge of these circumstances is not the same god (or angel) that created the material realm (our visible world). Many of Jesus’ teachings to Judas in this book reflect this worldview that was common to at least a minority of early Christian intellectuals in the second and third centuries.

Even with some familiarity with other Gnostic writings, there is something very odd about this writing. We have many examples of “Gnostic” authors presenting the secret teachings of Jesus in the form of a dialogue between the Christ and one of the disciples, with different authors choosing different apostles as their subject. Still what is absolutely astounding, in some ways, is the choice of Judas Iscariot as the favorite of Jesus! There seems to be no precedent for choosing Judas Iscariot, who “betrayed” Jesus, as the favorite disciple who received the secret revelation of the Savior.

In fact, this gospel presents Jesus as commending Judas for an action that was usually interpreted by other Christian authors as out-right betrayal (even though it could also be seen as “within God’s plan” that it took place in the view of many early Christians — Jesus death was necessary, in other words). The passage in question, which needs some training in gnosticism to interpret, goes as follows:

“Judas said to Jesus, ‘Look, what will those who have been baptized in your name do?’ Jesus said, ‘Truly I say [to you], this baptism [. . . ] my name [– about nine lines missing –] to me. Truly [I] say to you, Judas, [those who] offer sacrifices to Saklas [. . .] God [– three lines missing –] everything that is evil. But you will exceed all of them. For you will sacrifice the man that clothes me’” (trans by Kasser, Meyer and Wurst, pp.42-43).

It doesn’t help that large portions of this section are missing, but what is clear is that Jesus speaks positively of Judas’ future act of betraying Jesus, of “sacrific[ing] the man that clothes [Jesus]”. How sacrificing Jesus human body (”the man”) through betrayal can be a positive thing is only understandable once one realizes that this author’s worldview is the thoroughly dualistic one of spirit vs. matter mentioned above, in which the material realm, especially our bodies, are a prison from which one wants to escape. In fact, the material world around us is created by an inferior being or angel or demiurge, here called “Saklas”, not by the God who sent the Christ, in the view of this and other “Gnostic” authors. (In some “Gnostic” writings, this creator god plays a role similar to the role that the rebel angel Satan plays in the worldview of other early Christians). In other words, Judas helps Jesus by assisting in the elimination of this material body or prison and, therefore, the spirit’s return to the perfect spiritual realm of the God who sent Christ. This act of returning to one’s proper place as part of the perfect spiritual realm is, in itself, the salvation that Jesus achieves and that other spiritual sparks trapped within human bodies, other perfect Adams, will likewise achieve by receiving the secret “knowledge” (gnosis, hence gnosticism) that Jesus brings concerning the nature of reality in the view of this particular author.

Some of the Gnostic Gospels can be interesting reads, although it doesn’t take long to realize why they were never included in the canon. The Gospel of Judas seems to be one of the weakest in the whole lot.