Divine breath of fire

Does God breathe fire? Yes, God does! At Pentecost we celebrate just one such occasion.
       But in order to fully understand it, we need to step back for a moment and realize, that many words and expressions for inner or higher spiritual motions and emotions were originally physiological metaphors. They were  derived from outward observations of our bodies and their reactions.
       People can hardly notice it in their own language, but it cannot be missed if we learn a new language. Take for instance the Hebrew word for anger; it simply means “a nose”. Often it is expressed in fuller form as “a hot (or flaming) nose”. It clearly harkens back to agitated breathing associated with strong emotions. The same idea is expressed in Greek language - THUMOS simply means "heavy breathing" and among other things it often translates as anger. Our English “anger” takes a little different approach, but leads to a similar end because it means “painfully restricted, narrow  (breathing)”. If, then, the Holy Spirit comes with flames of fire, it is an indication of a divine anger, indignation over injustice, and zeal for what is just and right.
       And almost instantly these metaphors of “hot nose” and “fiery breath” are complemented by another set of similar but opposite physiological metaphors. While patience in English is “the ability to withstand hurt”; in biblical Hebrew it literally translates as “long nostrils” certainly talking about calm steady breath. In the New Testament one of the gifts of the Holy Spirit in New Testament Greek is called MAKROTHUMIA which means long (or deep and calm) breath which is such powerful indication of resolute endurance.
       On Pentecost God indeed breathes the fire of indignation over injustices in this world, but with the same breath presents a gift of patience, endurance and calm, long deep breath of endurance and magnanimity. On Pentecost we celebrate this gift in all its complexity, a burning indignation as well as a tenacious gentle breeze which has power to blow away all pains and soothe all hurts.
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And for those who read as far as here: Interesting theory of development of physiological hypostases and metaphors and their participation in producing individual consciousness and current human mentality as we know it, was offered by Julian Jaynes in his 1976 book The Origin of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind. 

The Bible is NOT history

Our Church is located amid theatrical world of the Upper West Side, thus I have for you this allegory from the realm of the muse Thalia. 
     Take for instance William Shakespeare’s play Julius Caesar. Just suppose that for generations this play was the only source of information about early imperial Rome. For many years there was no problem, because people were not concerned about history and they appreciated Shakespeare for presenting them with valuable psychological and spiritual models. 
     Then people started to care for history and historical truth and soon discovered inconsistencies and outright anachronisms in this play. Some rejected it, others ridiculed it, some stubbornly insisted on its literal interpretation (by the way according Shakespeare, in another play, my land-locked homeland of Bohemia supposedly lies by the sea!). Finally discoveries in London and Rome set the score right. Roman history began to be studied from Latin sources, and Shakespeare was seen within its Elizabethan context and enjoyed for all its mastery.
      This Sunday I want to speak about the same thing in the realm of faith and theology. The last three or four decades have brought about a great expansion in our understanding of the early history of our Judeo-Christian faith. The Biblical patriarchs (as well as matriarchs), the Exodus, the Sinai origins of the Law, even the unified monarchy of David and Solomon cannot be any longer perceived as historical realities as they once were. The Bible and our faith are finally being liberated from the shackles of the ancient past and literalism. And it is a great liberation. We can finally enjoy the Bible and our faith as they were originally intended in its richness, diversity, inconsistence, spiritual mastery and creativity.
      This Sunday I want to share with you these exciting developments. Hopefully I will be also able to outline some great and liberating possibilities. There are many important lessons in history; there is even more transformative richness in the Book of books.
 

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And for those who read as far as here two examples of biblical anachronisms.

Abram/Abraham is said in Genesis to come from "Ur of the Chaldeans" this compound name (especially the ethnic attribute) is a clear example of biblical anachronism. At the time of Chaldeans the ancient city of Ur was virtually nonexistent. This description of Abram/Abraham original home suggests this part of the story originated earliest in 6th century BCE but most likely in the Hellenistic times.  

In the book Genesis, several biblical patriarchs are reported to use camels as domesticated animals of burden. This is another clear example of biblical anachronism. Camels were not used in this capacity in the epoch to which biblical patriarchs are normally situated.  

And one example when traditionalist (and ideologically tainted) interpretation of history and archeology attempted to misrepresent findings - Biblical reading this Sunday will be about these gates.

Does the LORD have a womb?

Does the LORD have a womb?
It might seem like a silly or even offensive question, but it is not. This very fact is subliminally present in some powerful Old Testament pronouncements; it lies at the core of Old Testament theology; yes, it is woven into the very fabric of the Hebrew language. Many times when the Bible speaks about the LORD as “compassionate” it uses a Hebrew word directly derived from the word for “womb”. At the pivotal and formative moment of divine self-revelation to Moses on mount Sinai (Exo 34:6) The LORD passed before Moses, and proclaimed, “The LORD, the LORD, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness...” The first adjective describing God as merciful is a word directly derived from Hebrew word for womb. Just as we can hear the verb “love” behind the adjective “lovely” so would biblical authors speak about “compassion” while clearly hearing reference to the physiological seat of motherly tender and loving care. And in their anatomical ignorance, or psychological wisdom and sophistication, they somehow knew that although it is most pronounced in mothers, this gentle/tender/womby feeling is not biologically gender exclusive. Even the patriarchal God of the Hebrew Bible can have a womb or at least womb-generated emotions of gentle loving-kindness. As we celebrate the Mothers’ Day this Sunday, we will learn how this womb-generated-compassion is essential for maintaining justice and the fostering of life in the most surprising and marvelous manner.
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And here is a slide from an earlier blog entry from one of the Lenten Lectures on biblical monotheism.

Other biblical passages can be added, for instance from Isaiah 49:15
       Can a woman forget her nursing child,
       or show no compassion for the child of her womb?
       Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you (says the LORD).

Bucolic demagoguery

When psalmist sings “The LORD is my shepherd” he makes a powerful political statement.
     Only modern people without understanding of ancient context could take it as an opening sentence of a funerary dirge or pietistic outpouring of faith. Everyone in the Ancient Near East was well educated in what I would call a "bucolic demagoguery". 
     Images, metaphors and vocabulary of shepherding were as old as first domesticated animals and always contained strong overtones of power and domination. The excesses of power were only mildly controlled by pointing to the self-interest of shepherds to keep a healthy flock.

• In Sumerian epic, when Gilgamesh (a legendary Sumerian hero) behaves like a tyrant, he is reminded by his subjects, he should act like a shepherd. Gudea of Lagash (3rd millennium) is called “shepherd who leads the people with a good and steady hand.” Lipit-Ishtar (early 2nd millennium) is called “humble shepherd of Nippur.” Hammurabi of Babylon called himself a “shepherd appointed by Enlil”. Many Neo-Assyrian kings liked to portrait themselves as shepherds. In Egypt from Middle kingdom on, kings were called “herdsmen of all men” Amenhotep III is called “The good shepherd, protecting all people” Seti I “the good shepherd, who keeps his soldiers alive.” Merneptah calls himself “ruler, who shepherds you”. In Homer Agamemnon is called “shepherd of the host.”

Ancient Near Eastern kings and supreme rulers simply loved to call themselves shepherds and used that image for legitimation of their power. Their subjects, when their situation became unbearable, timidly reminded their rulers that they should behave like shepherd and protect their subjects.  
      If the psalmist sings “The LORD is my shepherd” he makes a powerful theocratic statement which contained strong anti-imperial and anti-monarchic edge.
      Many biblical parables and metaphors of shepherds (Cf. Ezechiel 34) criticize rulers for their abuse of power and lack of care for their subjects. Similarly, the synoptical parable of the lost sheep is an implicit political criticism of those, who allowed it to happen, and it contrasts the realm of God with the contemporary political arrangements.
       And when Jesus of the gospel of John says “I am the good shepherd” we hear Johanine community making a very powerful theocratic ideological statement. 
       The one who criticized neglectful shepherds of his day and sought hope in theocracy (kingdom of God), is here declared the Shepherd, ergo the King (ergo God).
Jesus himself (the historical person) might be quite surprised! (But that would be another chapter.)

Earth Day Walk

This Sunday we celebrate Earth Day, and we will talk about walking, journeying and hiking. Several weeks ago I preached (and wrote on this blog) about Highways and Byways. We investigated the difference between arrogant imperial highway systems and human-sized paths created by local people. We also observed how different road systems mirror different ways of life. Empires are built and sustained by an arrogant ideology often called “our way of life”.
    This Sunday we will learn from Jesus how to leave the imperial ways of life behind and choose and enjoy alternative paths of living. We can start with the very simple act of walking. Walking is a joyful and healthy act of defiance and protest. In our world it is a true prophetic alternative mode of being. In a car, we cannot hear birds singing. We cannot smell the fresh-cut-grass. We cannot see the morning dew on flowers. We cannot feel the fresh breeze in our face. We cannot touch a butterfly (we wash them off the windshield.)
    This alternative living starts even before we make the first step on our way. We need to return WALKING to our vocabulary and thinking. Imperial bureaucrats love words like TRANSPORTATION. Believe it or not, recently I even saw the monster-phrase FOOT-TRANSPORTATION. I prefer just to WALK. I hate being called PEDESTRIAN. If walkers are called pedestrians, drivers should be called "vehicularists" or even better, "motorheads".
    Thankfully we live in the most walkable (or if you wish walking-friendly) city in the entire United States. We might have the ability to walk, but we often live as if we were trying to compensate for walking, so we live our lives as if we were driving, flying, or piloting our lives as supersonic jets. In our city we can walk, now we need to re-learn a walking, slower pace ethos. Indeed walking is a joyful, alternative pace of living. This Sunday we will observe Jesus walk, and try to learn from him an alternative way of living.

Sunday of Theological Inquiry

Quasimodo Sunday (or more properly Quasimodogeniti)
    This is the traditional name for the Second Sunday of Easter. This strange name is derived from the opening words in medieval Latin: 1 Peter 2:2 “Be like new-born babies and desire genuine rational milk, which will help you to grow up in salvation!” (Quasi modo geniti infantes rationale sine dolo lac concupiscite ut in eo crescatis in salutem)
    On this First Sunday after Easter we will read the story of Thomas (John 20:19-29). Far from being unbelieving, Thomas became the first theologian, asking questions about faith, guarding himself from superstition and prejudice (wishful thinking), yet eager to learn and to understand. We will attempt to penetrate the Gospel of Thomas and to uncover Jesus’ parable unrecorded in the Bible. A similar similitude from the 2 Corinthians as well as the parable from the Gospel of Philip will help us crack this ancient yet lively conundrum of the Logion 97.
    We will stay true to the theological legacy of this Sunday. Even the affirmation of faith will be phrased in the mode of Apophatism. That is the traditional theological way in which faith is being expressed by declaring what we do not believe:
    We do not believe God wants us to stop searching, asking and learning.
    We do not believe God speaks only in church lingo and through stilted rituals.
    We do not believe God approves what people have done to the world.
    We do not believe God organizes the death of anyone even God’s own son.
    We do not believe God wills hunger and poverty for any of God’s children.
    We do not believe God approves abuse, torture and war for any reasons.
    We do not believe God cannot remould and reshape us and our broken world.

A slide from a lecture on Gnosticism.

I grew up in glass-making part of Czech Republic. My maternal grandfather worked in the glass factory, he used to shape wooden molds for the glass-blowers. I still remember vividly my high-school summer jobs in a glass factory, especially the smell of burned beeswax used for lubrication. 

Easter Galilean Beach Barbecue

Just forget for a moment about Easter Sunday morning in Jerusalem, forget about the empty tomb, forget the vocabulary and doctrine of resurrection! All of these are quite late developments. Theological scholarship is certain that the earliest Easter stories about meeting Jesus after he was crucified originated not in Jerusalem; the oldest accounts with the deepest roots came from Galilee.
       The disciples were hit hard by the loss of their beloved leader. They were hit hard by their own betrayal and cowardice. But at the bottom of their deepest despair something happened. 
       First they did not have words for it; they did not know how to talk about it with each other, not to mention with the outside word. Only later they would start to call it resurrection. Only later they would find the powerful symbol of the empty tomb. Only later they would attempt to record, systematize and organize their thoughts and experiences. But something powerful had happened. My professor of the New Testament Dr. Petr Pokorný in his book "The genesis of Christology" calls it The Decisive Impulse. At first the disciples were crushed by despair, and then they became filled with joy. At first they were overwhelmed by fear, and then they found new confidence. Their leader was executed in Jerusalem, and then they met him in Galilee. Something powerful had happened to them, and they started to search for words and ways to share their experience, they searched for stories and metaphors to talk about their transforming experience. 
       Interestingly, the decisive impulse was closely intertwined with communal meals, just as it was during Jesus’ earthly life, the overwhelming majority of Easter stories are connected with eating. Since the earliest transformative experiences originated in Galilee, this Easter Sunday gospel reading will take us to the Galilean beach with a barbecue for the resurrection picnic.

This graphics is based on the ancient mosaic
from the Church of the Multiplication