Not The Religious Type

The Gloomiest Yet Most Provocative Quote Ever

As I prep for this Center City Summit we have coming up in a couple of weeks, I ran across this quote from the Barna Group and their book UnChristian.

This is their provocative take on the state of the dialogue between churchgoers and secularists.

"The vast majority of (secularists) don't need to hear the Good News. They have been exposed to Christianity in an astonishing number of ways, and that's exactly why they're rejecting it. They react negatively to our 'swagger', how we go about things, and the sense of self-importance we project." They quote one outsider as saying: "Most people I meet assume that Christian means very conservative, entrenched in their thinking, antigay, antichoice, angry, violent, illogical, empire builders; they want to convert everyone, and they generally cannot live peacefully with anyone who doesn't believe what they believe."

I'd imagine that many readers of this blog wouldn't, off the bat at least, take issue with this assessment. But what's your reaction as you read it? Does it make you (a) sad? (b) want to disassociate from Christianity yourself? (c) feel misunderstood and misjudged by the secular world? or (d) something else? And let's say the authors are accurately representing something. How would you propose people of faith address these perceptions?

Krissy's friend and downsides to God

Thanks to those of you, on facebook and at notreligious.org, who responded to Krissy's provocative post asking if there would be downsides to God for her lesbian friend.

As always, each of you was thoughtful.  I might relate best to Matt's post.  As for Matt, in my experience starting to actually pursue God only brings good things--universally, for all people.  We can feel as though, before that pursuit begins with any seriousness, there are pre-conditions.  But the preferred order for folks I've met seems to be to just jump in with God and see how things sort themselves out. 

I've talked to some folks recently who'd regard such a response as being "watered-down."  To them, a robust presentation of faith must list every potential implication up front.  One of these folks, having said that, then expressed frustration that no one was ever interested in the faith he was promoting.  It's so good!  Why can't they see that? 

If I'm reading Jesus right--and if it's okay to say this--Jesus seemed to be on my side.  He just hung out with folks and encouraged them to start in on a journey with God.  His friend Peter's deep issues, such as they were, took years before finding a surprising and eminently encouraging resolution.  I don't believe Peter felt ripped off by that process.  Jesus promises "good news"--and I meet endless people who feel that that's exactly what he's brought them.

My Edited-Out Response to Richard Dawkins

So that was a bit of a tease on Friday, saying I’d had a moment of mild sneering towards Richard Dawkins in a first draft of Not the Religious Type that, upon further reflection, I edited out. I do, for what it’s worth, find Dawkins annoying and absurdly bullying (in that he’s playing the bully even as he puts forth openly absurd arguments). But, like Maher, it’s not that he hasn’t effectively struck up a debate whose time had probably come.

Here was my rejoinder about one small point of his book:

A number of them [the “new atheist” writers], as well, strike me as masters of the taunt and as particularly suspect in their ability to actually argue. One popular writer has this to say, for instance, to people like me who claim lots of experiences with God. (A) Scientists have now demonstrated that brain chemistry can produce powerful illusions. To the response that these “illusions” seem to have affected billions of people in history and a good percentage of people alive today, the author, effectively, rebuts: (B) You people are all freaking nuts! When one replies that this doesn’t seem like something one would classically describe as “an argument,” he effectively punts to Bill Murray’s line in Ghostbusters: “Back off, man. I’m a scientist.” Which, indeed, he is, and a famous one. Which has exactly nothing to do with the philosophical discussion he’s entered into.

But, again, in the cool light of day, that seemed a little unhelpfully testy.

I’m Making Converts to “Religulous”!

Thanks so much to those of you who've entered into the conversation on Religulous.

It speaks to the make-up of our little band that no one took issue with Bill Maher's relentless mocking of faith. Beyond Otto's comment, which I've posted, here are some snippets from other responses.

This from Paul:

I love the topic...and I love that he is not afraid to ask difficult questions about God. …It is interesting to note though that while what most Americans seem to desire most (judging by the booming self-help and travel industries) is inner peace and external adventure, bombastic hyperbole seems to be the only approach to raise awareness of a new conversation topic within the American culture. I believe this is a worthy topic for a national conversation...so kudos to Bill!

This from Evan:

Bill Maher told Larry King that he thinks there probably is a God. Couldn't believe my ears! After all of that hostility to religion, he comes up with that?! And then I thought, maybe Maher is just rebelling against dogmatism in a different manner than most of us would. What if he had named his film, "Not the Religious Type"? I think it's likely that many of my work friends share some of his skepticism, and I know that there are sparks and hints of belief with them. In any case, Religulous fires me up.

I'm totally charmed by these responses…while still pretty much hating sneering and mocking as the only way to have a popular national conversation. I actually had a moment of mild sneering towards Richard Dawkins in a first draft of Not the Religious Type and a secular reader told me she'd loved the book right up until that point, but at that moment I became unsafe. That struck me as profound counsel, and I rewrote. That said, Maher isn't the first to discover that ridicule (while for the most part limiting you to preaching to the choir) gets attention in a way that measured conversation doesn't. So, as Paul, Evan and Otto thoughtfully posit, maybe we should all cheer Mr. Maher.

Reader Otto on "Religulous"

Here's a thoughtful comment from the Facebook group on my post on Bill Maher's upcoming religion-mocking documentary Religulous. 

When I first look at trailer and at Bill Maher, and I see him talking and hear him laughing, he strikes me as kind of evil. Like he's playing the devil's advocate, quite literally.

But on second thought, maybe he's uncovering some genuine flaws in religion and the way politics intersect with religion. True, he's not fighting fairly, but given this genre Michael Moore-sque documentary, does anyone expect him to?

I was struck by the one part in the trailer where this guy says to Bill Maher "you start disputing my God, and you have a problem" (from what I got, as in "you better get out of here before I come after you"). This reminds me of a few other times that I've witnessed people getting angry or defensive and I get the feeling that they are not defending God for the sake of defending the truth, but because their sense of self, their ego, is invested and identified with their religion and beliefs. In modern Christianity there is so much emphasis on "our God" and "my God" and "my relationship with my Jesus". I read a wise saying once: "God does not belong to us, we belong to him". So I think there is a little bit of an egoic delusion of the church that "we are the chosen people of God and everyone is out to get us" and this repels people from the church.

So we should have a a healthy skepticism of the Bill Maher types, but also of religion. What is the motivation for our religion? Is it "pure religion"? Or is it motivated by psychological needs, such as avoiding uncertainty, belonging to a group, etc.

Also, to comment on my first reaction that Bill Maher seemed evil to me, I think when we are confronted by atheists, we often think the enemy is working in them (at least I have that reaction sometimes). Maybe the enemy is working in us. (with a slight modification maybe this phrase fits: "We have met the enemy and he is [working in] us"). Satan wants us to give in to fear and suspicion of our fellow man. It is the same fear and suspicion that causes wars, genocides, and other kinds of evil.

Any response to Otto?

Is There Really No Downside with God?

Two provocative reader comments to throw your way, so why don't I do one today and one tomorrow.

This one, from Krissy, about "Is God Good News or Bad News?"

My first thought about this was "Of course there's no downside," because that has been my experience. But then I thought about a friend of mine from high school with whom I've recently gotten back in touch. She's a lesbian; that's a huge part of her identity, and she's been in a committed relationship for over ten years. If I were to talk to her about my faith, I have no doubt that the topic of her sexual orientation would come up. And then what? Almost everyone I know, or know of, who takes the Bible seriously would say that this long-term committed relationship, currently the most important relationship in her life, is not compatible with a life of following Jesus. Suddenly the idea that "there is no downside with God" seems like a much harder sell.

I'd still be tempted to stick to my guns and say that, for Krissy's friend, there's no downside at all to life with God.  But, having said that, what would you all say to Krissy on this subject?

This Summit We Keep Mentioning

You'll note, in both notreligious.org and on Facebook, that there are links to this "Center City Summit 2008" coming up in mid-August. I thought I'd say just a few words about it. 

The idea for this came up a couple of years back, when a number of folks I'd met from around the country mentioned their unique challenges and joys with being a person of faith in a secular-dominated culture.  Lots of these folks were looking for community, encouragement and vision.  It wasn't that they didn't feel at home in such settings.  Just the reverse actually.  They loved them.  Beyond that, they had vision for these places.  They felt that their connection to the secular world was strategic and a gift.  How could they and other people of faith make the most of living in these sorts of places?

Since then, I've gathered folks in small and mid-sized gatherings to continue these conversations--and there's a lot there!  Suddenly we had SO much worth talking about, SO many great stories and encouragements and inspirational models that it seemed worth finding an actual setting to REALLY have this conversation. And so, as Charles Park (an innovative pastor in New York and a good friend) and I talked, this idea of what we hope will be an annual Center City Summit was born. 

At this first one, August 18-20, we'll be joined by Carl Medearis--another good friend and one of the most out-of-the-box, faith-inspiring people I know (who, coincidentally, seems to connect with a continual procession of amazing, powerful people, often in Middle Eastern countries) and Chris Lowney (who wrote my current favorite book of 2008, called Heroic Leadership, a visionary picture of the good life modeled by the Jesuits), along with lots of other fun folks--perhaps you!

Anyway, that explains the buttons or groups connected to this blog.  If you know you're coming, could you do me the favor of registering, like, now?  I've heard from I'd say dozens of folks who tell me they'll be there who haven't yet registered.  (If you must procrastinate--and please please don't--the registration deadline is August 10.)

Is God good news or bad news?

First off, two things.  Check out Brian's comments on yesterday's post, "The Resurrection Disproved!"  (If you're reading this on Facebook, you'll have to go to www.notreligious.org.)  It's fun to have commenters who, like, actually know something.  And, second, I get it!  "Religulous" is mocking religion by calling it "ridiculous!"  I'm so ashamed that I missed that the first go-round.

And one more note: I like comments!  I am a "pro-comment" kind of guy.  So please do freely comment on these posts and I'll, at the very least, look to comment on a few of your comments each week.

As for today: As I continue these occasional radio interviews, typically with Christian radio stations, I'm struck that one theme that's developing is whether God is good news or bad news for people who regard themselves as knowing God.  My take: Good news!  Psalm 119 says of God, "You are good and do only good."  And that's been my experience.  There's no downside with God.

But some folks I talk with are suspicious of this.  Is this ignoring the hard stuff, like hell, or the controversial stuff, like sexuality?  Sometimes they feel a little persecuted: they're being misrepresented by secularists as being bigoted or gloomy, but that's not who they really are! 

It seems to me that, even as we explore "the hard stuff," we can expect to find good news at the bottom, given that that's who God presents himself as being.   God wants good both for us and everyone we talk to, and that's good news indeed. 

But (and this is where the "I love your comments" part comes in), maybe--as has been mentioned to me in a few of these interviews--that's glib or cowardly.  Comments?

The Resurrection Disproved!

Or…something. Hang on, I'm not sure I'm tracking just yet. Here's the story, excerpted from Time.com.

A 3-ft.-high tablet romantically dubbed "Gabriel's Revelation" could challenge the uniqueness of the idea of the Christian Resurrection. The tablet appears to date authentically to the years just before the birth of Jesus and yet — at least according to one Israeli scholar — it announces the raising of a messiah after three days in the grave. If true, this could mean that Jesus' followers had access to a well-established paradigm when they decreed that Christ himself rose on the third day — and it might even hint that they they could have applied it in their grief after their master was crucified. However, such a contentious reading of the 87-line tablet depends on creative interpretation of a smudged passage, making it the latest entry in the woulda/coulda/shoulda category of possible New Testament artifacts; they are useful to prove less-spectacular points and to stir discussion on the big ones, but probably not to settle them nor shake anyone's faith.

I've read a few of the feature stories on this, and I remain baffled. Even if the reading of the inscription is conceded (which it by no means is, within the scholarly community), is it news that Jesus…fulfilled Jewish prophecy? I'm not the strongest New Testament scholar, but I'm remembering that as, like, a major theme.

The smoking gun disproving the resurrection (James Cameron took a shot at this two years back) evidently remains as-yet unveiled.

Bill Maher and "Religulous"

I saw this preview the other night for Bill Maher's new religion-mocking documentary Religulous (mocking President Bush's syntax and religion?).

It reminded me that a lot of the new atheism has, perhaps, a lot in common with all of us, spiritual or otherwise: Most of us work off of a vibe more than off of any particular logic.  The new atheism--Hitchens, Dawkins, Harris, Dennett and Maher, among others--regards faith as obviously crazy.  The contribution they're making is to point this out, something their elders were too timid to do. 
Religulous isn't yet out, as I write this, so I can only go off of the mocking trailer.  But having read a good deal of the others, it's not that no arguments are made, but that the ones put forth come with a "no duh" tone and a sneer at anyone who'd refute them.

And so I'm torn.  On the one hand, I find myself strangely grateful for these polemics.  If you've read my book, they fill the crucial role of what I call Stage 3.  But I do dream of a day of a bit more humility and give and take, so that we can actually listen to each other and grow from the experience.

Maybe Religulous will help on these lines.  But...how do I say this with no hint of a sneer?...I'm not holding my breath.

Faith Benefit #5: It's happy to prove itself again and again.

Last week I got to spend some time with a group of young people who were so excited about the faith they'd found.  They sang together, talked about God's power and goodness, and just generally seemed really different than pretty much any other group of young people you could imagine.

I wondered if I was being curmudgeonly to think back to myself at their age, in a room with folks just like them--thrilled with God, confident that what they were feeling would utterly shape their future.  For some of those folks in the room with me that distant day, that clearly came to pass.  For a hefty amount of others in the room, it didn't.

Is a vibrant faith by definition a phase?  Can we only keep that kind of enthusiasm for a confined period of time?  Sooner or later, will the pain of life win in most of our lives?  Will we need to buckle down and get realistic?

I wonder if the only way past that is to find a God and a faith that's eager to prove itself again and again.  The Bible both encourages and discourages us from this line of thought.  A certain sort of "putting God to the test" is regarded as super-unwise and evil.  And a certain other sort is commanded (Malachi 3, for those of you "prove it" sorts). 

I have two friends with Stage 4 colon cancer, both doing their best to walk through it with vibrant faith.  One says she hasn't heard from God much in her experience of faith (viz. yesterday's post), but she strongly feels she's heard comfort and encouragement in this case, so she's holding onto that.  The other perhaps also has heard some modest encouragements, but also sees God meeting needs along the way, day in and day out.

His comment: "I can't imagine going through something like this without God."  I'm taking that as God proving himself again and again, even in capital-T Trial. 

For me, a faith I'd want to have would be up to this challenge.  You?

Faith Benefit #4: It's interactive rather than silent.

Last week, a friend told me about a funky experience.

A skeptical friend had visited a worship service in which the preacher asked the congregants to conduct a surprising experiment.  Having just made an unexpected case from one of Jesus' parables that perhaps God likes it when we blow money on people who are disconnected from God, the preacher asked the folks there to ask God to bring someone to mind to blow money on.

This skeptical friend did, in fact, have someone come to mind, along with a concrete amount of money.  Someone completely unlikely, who, in fact, she'd feuded with just a skosh recently.  She told my friend about the thought, but quickly dismissed it.  My friend encouraged her to give it a shot, under the "what harm could it do?"" theory.

And so she did.  Only to discover it was a major deal in the life of the person in question, who'd just the previous night prayed to God--for the first time in forever--that somehow God would give her the exact amount of money the skeptical woman had given her.  All because perhaps God had suggested this.

And, as a throw-in, their minor feud has ended.

I find myself hungry for a faith like this one, one that's less a "firm belief" than a "vibrant and chatty relationship."  Yes, one would imagine that this God would ask for our allegiance and action based on these chats.  But I talk with so many folks who expect only silence from whatever God might actually exist.  I'd like to hope for more, so much so that it's in my top-5.

Interlude: One Woman's Ideal Faith Community

Let's take a break from our "five things that make a faith worth having" series to look at one woman's related take.

A week ago, the Boston Globe reviewed a book called Sundays in America: A Yearlong Road Trip in Search of Christian Faith, by a journalist and disillusioned Catholic named Suzanne Strempek Shea.  She decided to go to a different Christian church, around the country, each Sunday for a year and see what she learned about faith.

The Globe reviewer, Rich Barlow, didn't love the book, finding it repetitive and shallow.  But Shea's conclusion seems at least interesting in light of our current discussion.  Here's a final paragraph:

And what does she conclude at the end of her road trip? I'm not giving away anything by saying that her ideal church would be a composite of the best ones she visited, "a community that welcomed me warmly, didn't give a whit about my politics or lifestyle, gave tons of whits about the social justice needs locally and beyond, contained little-to-no hierarchy . . . offered a spiritual message inspired by love rather than by fear, and did all this in an art-filled place that rang with awesome music."

How does her picture of an ideal church cohere with yours?

Faith Benefit #3: It gives me more choices rather than fewer choices.

As a secularist, it seemed to me that pursuing faith would shut down my life. 

Sex, swearing, drinking, R-rated movies--all gone.  Now, granted, I was a pretty straitlaced secularist who wasn't much into any of those things (the movies aside), so we were talking theory.  But I knew I was looking for more life, rather than less life.

Two passages in the Bible pushed back on this point.  Psalm 119 pitched that God was good and only did good things.  And the New Testament letter to the Galatians presented a Jesus whose primary goal was freeing us, who hated anything that enslaved us.

But if God was so good, why did he prohibit things rather than empower things?  And if Jesus was so into freedom, why the do's and don'ts?

Slowly it began to dawn on me that maybe the occasional "don't" wasn't meant to shut anything down for me, but to open things up.  So I read today about an ultra-rich man who's evangelizing for his method of getting rich.  The only costs (which he says truly serious readers will, of course, pay) are friends, permanent relationships and off-hours.  But the benefits of his approach, he argues, are obvious: for one, with all his money, he can pay for very high-class whores.

So, hey, maybe Jesus' pitching that we need to choose between serving God or  money isn't a downer telling us we can't enjoy the good things of life.  Maybe it's a prescription for enjoying the good things of life.  Instead of our only choice being antisocial workaholism, maybe if we figure out what Jesus means by "serving God," we'll realize that our choices are infinite.

All to say, I find myself not trusting any religion that seems to shut down my choices as a positive virtue in and of itself.  I'm looking for one that makes me more, not less, free. 

Faith Benefit #2: It's supernatural rather than abstract.

I remember the first time God seemed to tell me to talk to a stranger who, as it turned out, was having a life crisis.  We talked.  He gave his life to God.  The crisis abated.  He oriented his whole life from that point forward around doing whatever God wanted him to do.

Or the man with the chronic stomach pain.  For reasons still mysterious to me, I put a hand on his stomach, said, "Be healed in Jesus' name."  And watched as the man, still surprised by my planting a hand on his painful stomach, slowly straightened up and said, "I don't feel any pain."  And so he didn't, even as I checked in over many weeks. 

In promoting this new book of mine, I've talked with some  people of faith who've said, in response to this, that we can't expect God to do our supernatural bidding, that that's no basis for a faith--not to mention that it rarely works. 

But to me that's a false lead.  Of course God doesn't always do what we want God to do at the moment we want it.  But the explanation for that can't be that we're not advised to go after a God who actually does stuff.  I'm not finding myself drawn to a faith that, at a head level, seems abstractly "true" but otherwise irrelevant.  I'm more with the Psalmist in Psalm 116 who starts off "I love the Lord because he hears my voice and my prayer for mercy. Because he bends down to listen, I will pray as long as I have breath!"  And you?

Preferred faith benefit #1: It connects me rather than separates me

So we'll finally get to this promised top-of-the mind top-5 list of things that make a faith worth having. Thanks Adam Reynolds for getting the ball rolling with your list! Again, this is not pretending to be authoritative in any way. It's what comes to mind for me.

But, for me, I'd think a faith I'd find worth having would connect me rather than separate me.

I came to faith out of alienation. I was well-regarded by my peers, but felt respected rather than loved. I felt alone as I tried to figure out where my life should head. My parents were supportive and I had a few good friends, but I very much felt that all the pressure on my future happiness was on my shoulders, and that suddenly seemed like too big a job. Who were my partners in this journey of life? Was I alone?

If you're a Bible-reader, you may recall that this is a major theme in this New Testament letter, Ephesians. According to Paul, Jesus came to "break dividing walls" between people who otherwise couldn't possibly connect. This thought follows Paul's argument that Jesus also created a sort of cosmic connection for people who connect with him. My fear in exploring faith was that, if I actually found one, it would make me more isolated. Now I'd have an in-group, and by definition that would mean the rest of the world was "out."

But what I found, in the end at least, was very different. Suddenly I did indeed seem to have an actual, powerful connection to the universe (via God) and some relationships that were better than any I'd found to date. Suddenly I seemed to have access to my own emotions (long shut down from some childhood trauma).

And, while I very much did find myself inside of defined groups, in the long run I've found faith to open me up to the rest of the world rather than barricade me off from it. In fact, could it be faith itself that would richly connect me to the rest of the world—could faith be the very terms of that connection, the thing that would break through my former indifference to anyone beyond my immediate circle?

But maybe you've felt helped by faith in the opposite way—that it's drawn sharp relief around what's of God and what's not. Thoughts?

A Comment on Eckhart Tolle

As this fun site gets rolling, we're juggling a version of it both here and in a Facebook group, so we're still searching for a way to have all of the insightful comments there show up here and vice versa. That said, here's one from Otto Van Wachter, commenting on the "Oprah, Eckhart Tolle and Spiritual Transformation" post.

I read "A New Earth" recently on the suggestion of a career counselor/coach (of all people… it was not place where I was expecting to get spiritual input). I was impressed by the insights of Eckhart Tolle, they seem to me to be true and useful. The ego or "egoic mind" that is a central theme of this book strikes me as not too different from the egoic self that are talked about by Jesus, and Paul. Paul calls it the old self and contrasts it with the new self in Ephesians and Colossians. Eckhart Tolle's theology may be wrong (although I suspect he is too enlightened to have a theology), but I feel we can learn a lot from him about the ego, which many Christians know very little about.

Have any of you read Tolle? (I'm neither encouraging nor discouraging reading him; just curious.) What did you think? Clearly he's striking a nerve, with Oprah's publicizing being a big help.

For the most part, I'm with Otto. I read a Christian reviewer who said that Tolle had no concept of sin. It struck me as just the reverse: he's using the phrase "egoic mind" as his stand-in for sin. It's that part of ourselves that we need to transcend. With Otto, on that note, I found Tolle really insightful.

It struck me that, if there's a downside to Tolle, it's that--as effectively a Buddhist (perhaps I'm misreading him, but that's my take)--it's all on us to accomplish all these wise things he's telling us to do. I talked to a friend recently who'd read Tolle's previous book in the middle of a heavily New Age season of her life. She said something like, "What Tolle said--like the things said by almost all the teachers I was reading at the time--is largely full of good things. But in my experience what he and all the others lacked was any connection to the power that could accomplish these changes. It's all on us...and so very few people I knew who took him seriously did make the changes he described. They couldn't. They didn't have the power."

There are a few more things that seem striking. (As per: does he have a sense of a larger mission apart from transcending our egoic mind? To me, that seems like a starting place, not a destination.) But, disciplining myself, I'll stop now.

Response to “Oprah, Eckhart Tolle and Spiritual Transformation”

Let's put off answering my question from yesterday just a skosh in order to chat a bit about some of your comments.

What's drawn your interest so far has been my first post about "Oprah, Eckhart Tolle and Spiritual Transformation." I asked there if we need to adopt a religious culture to get whatever goods that religion might have.

Kathleen Dieguez both affirmed the question and then shared some of her angst about the consequences of that choice. She writes:

I often wonder how we can separate culture from faith without burning bridges to what seem to be very important parts of who we are as well. How do we come to Jesus and leave behind part of what he's made us to be, a person full of rich heritage, foods and songs and behaviors that are specific to our ethnic cultures. Where do we draw the line between what's acceptable and what's in contrast to Christ? I know the simple answer is that as long as we are not breaking Gods law it's okay, but there seems to be a lot of grey in between.

Your thoughts? I wonder if we're helped by just realizing that our cultural background isn't, by definition, what all good and godly people should be a part of. Considering, for instance, my acquaintances who regard themselves as "Muslims who follow Jesus": they customarily both have a high regard for their Muslim background and culture (and an unwillingness to jettison it) and an understanding that it might or might not be the same thing as meaningfully connecting with and following Jesus.

A lot of my road into this conversation has been through recognizing how deeply significant my secular upbringing still is to me: in that sense, I seem to be a "secularist who follows Jesus," who values my cultural upbringing while not conflating it with my view of absolute truth. Is that what we all do, or is that unique to us who come at this from secularism?

There's another great comment I want to chat about (on Oprah and Eckhart Tolle), but why don't I save that for tomorrow, pushing my proposed question from yesterday back still further.