Fragment #15 - Reflections from Journal Entries

[June 2005 reflections after my first trip to Israel and the Occupied Palestinian Territories]

I want to share some of the comments still echoing in my mind from encounters during the April time Dr. McRay and I spent in Israel and the Occupied Palestinian Territories (the comments follow the order of our meetings/activities) --

The office manager for a medical practice in the Israeli settlement Gush Katif in Gaza who, along with her husband, was in 1983 among the original civilian settlers -- “We (Israelis residing in the Gush Katif settlement in Gaza) are here legally.”

The senior physician for the above-mentioned medical practice (who resides in Gush Katif and also has a faculty appointment with Ben Gurion University’s Family Medicine Department in Be’er Sheva) -- “We must hit them (the Palestinians) with everything we have. If we had done so from the beginning, we would not have the problem we have today. . . . What more do they (the Palestinians) want from us?”

The same physician, commenting on Gaza before the Gush Katif settlement was founded -- “There was nothing here.”

A mid-40s antiquities dealer in Old Jerusalem (a ‘Jerusalemite’, as Palestinians who remained in Jerusalem with no citizen rights after the 1967 War are classified) -- “You do not respond to one people’s tragedy (i.e., Jews slaughtered during the Nazi Holocaust) by imposing a tragedy on another people (i.e., hundreds of thousands of Palestinians driven from their homes/villages in the creation and expansion of the state of Israel).”

A mid-30s Israeli woman who emigrated from Russia -- “There will be no political solution. Israelis and Palestinians are too mixed in their locations. . . . ‘Refugee Camp’ is an inaccurate image. It is self-imposed. They could take the initiative. . . . If one suicide bomber is stopped, ‘the wall’ is worth it.”

A late-50s Internal Medicine faculty member at Hadassah School of Medicine in Jerusalem -- “25% of Israelis are religious/orthodox, 25% are observing, 50% are secular. The percentages shift toward the observing and the secular categories among medical students at Hadassah. . . . Israeli Arabs who meet the entrance criteria can go to Hadassah’s medical school with no problems. . . . If there had been no Holocaust, there would have been no State of Israel.”

A ‘Messianic Jew’ -- “The Mount of Olives is infested with Arabs.”

A late-30s Palestinian woman who guided us through/around the walled-off Palestinian city of Qalqiliya, as she pointed to a map that highlighted the Israeli government’s confiscation of Palestinian land in the West Bank – “Whose finger is sticking into whose pie?”

The same woman, challenging Israeli checkpoint soldiers who had referred to the confiscated land around the checkpoint as ‘Israel’ – “That is not Israel! That is Palestine! That land over there is my father’s land.”

The same woman -- “The next elections – municipal elections – will go 80% Hamas. 70% of Qalqiliya residents are refugees, three times separated from their homes. When there is no hope, you turn to the right.”

A farmer/teacher in Qalqiliya -- “Sixty years are enough. . . . I am 59 years old. I retire next year. . . . They (Israel) steal our farms, our land, our lives. . . . I may blow myself up.”

A school principal in Ramallah – “Who has a life here?”

An American Consulate official -- “We took Secretary of State Rice on the ground to Ramallah, but not through the Qalandiya checkpoint. They (Israeli authorities) did remove some of the barriers to make it easier for her. But I made sure she understood the situation.”

A young boy in a remote West Bank village – “I want to be a doctor.”

An early-30s Palestinian man living on the Mount of Olives -- “I work every day with the priests at a Franciscan printing press in Old Jerusalem. I see who they really are. It is all about money. The people see them in their vestments, at Mass, and are impressed. I do not like the priests. I do not go to church often.”

An early-60s Palestinian man in Bethlehem who founded a work shelter for mentally disabled children and adults -- “Palestinians are between the hammer and the rock. . . . Many Palestinians in refugee camps still – after sixty years -- have the keys to their confiscated homes!”

A late-40s Palestinian man who chairs the planning committee in the Shu’fat Refugee Camp near Jerusalem – “I have lived here all my life. . . . When my parents were relocated here in 1948 after having been driven from their village just a few kilometers to the west of Jerusalem, they were given a seven-meter by fifteen-meter plot for their family of four. Now the family has grown beyond fifty members, all living on that same plot of land. Our only option is up.”

I feel more keenly/painfully than ever an identification with Koheleth (in the Ecclesiastes essay) as he wrestled with being aware of the human misery just beyond the edges of his affluence. My American citizenship makes me complicit with the Israeli government’s oppression of the Palestinian people. . . . Refugee camps filled with hundreds of thousands of displaced Palestinian families – many homeless since 1948 – dot the map. . . . How can I want/expect to be delivered from any personal loss/discomfort – however severe – when I know the depth/breadth of human pain/misery occurring ‘under the sun’ among the powerless, the marginalized, the desperate, the forgotten? . . . Where, across a lifestyle spectrum with one end being ‘utter misery’ and the other end being ‘utter affluence’, is the lifestyle that does not necessitate colonizing, exploiting, oppressing, impoverishing? where none would have reason to say, “I would not live my life over”? The standard of living experienced or sought in the United States is far toward the ‘utter affluence’ end of the spectrum. A serious move toward the point of a just lifestyle on the spectrum will be hard and complicated. Is it possible? . . . I must resist the enticements/sanctions – social, professional, religious – to turn away from seeing, to be distracted, to try to forget.

Koheleth seems tormented, paralyzed, uncertain, hesitant, frustrated, disillusioned. I do not think the author had found a way to stay focused on ‘life under the sun’ when he wrote Ecclesiastes. Perhaps my journal entries illustrate a sequel to Ecclesiastes, an interpretation of attempting to remain ‘with the world face to face’.

Fragment #14 - Reflections from Journal Entries

[1994]
Societal ‘spheres’ are by definition idolatrous and contaminated settings (at least with something analogous to second-hand smoke inhalation). Why enter? How enter? How exit?

Fragment #13 - Reflections from Journal Entries

[1994]

It is difficult to be very close friends with persons who only bring weaknesses to the relationship.

Fragment #12 - Reflections from Journal Entries

[May 2005 after my first trip to Israel and the Occupied Palestinian Territories]

The return trip last month to Israel and the Occupied Territories took Dr. McRay and me nearer the realities being experienced by the Palestinians. We spent time in Bethlehem, in Gaza, in Ramallah, in Qalqiliya, in a remote West Bank village with a mobile clinic, and in a refugee camp north of Jerusalem. These experiences in combination with a deeper reading into Zionism and the past century’s history re the establishment of the State of Israel have left us with a mixture of conflicting impressions/emotions. Is it possible that the empathy I feel deeply for the victims of the Holocaust is the empathy I now feel for the Palestinians? Dr. McRay and I are looking into ways to sponsor one of the many remote maternity clinics in the West Bank being cut off from hospital care by the Israeli authorities’ ‘security wall/fence’.

Fragment #11 - Reflections from Journal Entries

[April 2005] I read Nouwen’s Life of the Beloved (1993) again a few days ago. The reading awakened the sobering question I faced as I put the book aside after reading it soon after publication – i.e., why did Nouwen fail in his attempt to “write something about the spiritual life” for his friend – secular and Jewish – Fred Bratman? As Bratman explained to Nouwen after reading the manuscript for Life of the Beloved --

Although it is clear that you try to write for me and my friends from your own center and although you express to us what is most precious to you, you do not realize how far we are from where you are. You speak from a context and tradition that is alien to us, and your words are based on many presuppositions that we don’t share with you. You are not aware of how truly secular we are.

Nouwen did not fail for lack of time with Bratman. A decade of interactions had made them deeply aware of each other. Their friendship had sensitized Nouwen to “the plea that arose on all sides – wherever I was open to hear it”.

Bratman: “Speak to us about the deepest yearning of our hearts, about our many wishes, about hope . . . about hope . . . about trust . . . about love. Speak to us about a vision larger than our changing perspectives and about a voice deeper than the clamorings of our mass media. Yes, speak to us about something or someone greater than ourselves. Speak to us about . . . God.”

Nouwen: “Who am I to speak about such things? . . . I don’t have the experience, the knowledge, or the language you are asking for. You and your friends live in a world so different from my own.”

I remember wondering: “Why could Nouwen not grasp the secular mentality? . . . Why had he not realized how wide the gap is between the ‘religious’ and the ‘secular’? . . . Will he try again? . . . If so, what will he do differently?”

Nouwen’s failure shook me. By 1992 I had passed the point of no return in the resolve to be ‘with the world face to face’. I thought about the medical students, residents, teaching physicians, practicing physicians I was attempting to prompt re an approach to spirituality and ethics not dependent on ‘religious’ presuppositions when I read Bratman’s appeal that resulted in Life of the Beloved –

You can do it. . . . You have to do it. . . . If you don’t, who will? . . . Visit me more often; talk to my friends; look attentively at what you see, and listen carefully to what you hear. You will discover a cry welling up from the depths of the human heart that has remained unheard because there was no one to listen.

I resolved in 1993 after finishing Life of the Beloved not to presume I had anything to say in being ‘with the world face to face’. I resolved to suppress speaking out of insecurity. I resolved instead to listen . . . to observe . . . to feel . . . to care.

It is my understanding that Nouwen lived and thought in the ‘religious’ sphere when he wrote Life of the Beloved. He visited Bratman’s ‘secular’ world. By contrast, the ‘religious’ sphere had ceased to be ‘home’ for me by the time I read Nouwen’s attempt to speak meaningfully to individuals who are not ‘religious’. Educational and existential experiences over the previous two decades had carried me far from Nouwen’s ‘religious’ presuppositions and, in doing so, had triggered a radical (i.e., into the deepest roots) rethinking of spirituality and ethics in my personal journey. I had more in common with Bratman than with Nouwen. I was aware of one core aspect of the task Nouwen seems not to have realized – i.e., that the task has to do with far more than transposing ‘religious’ ideas into ‘non-religious’ wording.

Fragment #10 - Reflections from Journal Entries

Spirituality and ethics had, by the mid-1980s, become for me distinguishable from and broader than ‘religion’. I had met variations on Camus’ Dr. Rieux (The Plague) among the physicians, nurses, social workers, and volunteers who -- though diverse in their thought worlds and life views -- embodied similar values in their care for easily forgotten or overlooked patients. It had become apparent to me that (1) if these professionals were more than highly-skilled technicians and if their patients were more than biological systems, illnesses, or diseases, then (2) a vocabulary and a grammar to consider this ‘more’ are necessary. Such vocabulary and grammar, which must be accessible to all who care about the ‘more’, became for me the stuff of spirituality and ethics.

Image #17

Holland . . . 2003 . . . magnificent tulip farm . . . elegance . . .

Image #16

Freiburg, Germany . . . 2006 . . . quiet garden just a few steps from bustling city streets . . . pause . . .

Image #15

Montgomery, Alabama . . . civil rights marker . . . remembering individuals who were killed in the struggle . . .

The ‘scrapheap’ Job -- #25

What place does Eliphaz’s appeal to dreams (4:12ff) have in the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm? in Wisdom literature? in Jewish theological methods? in Christian theological methods? His appeal to dreams is juxtaposed with his previous appeal to observation. Dreams and supernatural communications carry little weight in Wisdom literature. The most supernatural appearance of ‘God’ to Job in the story/play – i.e., the whirlwind -- is an anomaly in Jewish Wisdom literature. The dreams of Joseph and Daniel are rare in Jewish literature and should be considered atypical. Eliphaz seems to be making a rather desperate appeal. He reminds me of the desperate student I watched at a piano recital who, frustrated and embarrassed by her inability to complete her assigned piece, switched frantically to a few measures of a ‘boogie’ before fleeing tearfully from the piano. Eliphaz no longer speaks/acts as a ‘wise’ man. How should the ‘scrapheap’ Job be cast when reacting to Eliphaz’s appeal to a dream – e.g., a raised eyebrow? a mystified stare?

Eliphaz uses the same word for ‘dread’ (4:14) that the ‘scrapheap’ Job has just used (3:24). The word – which appears several more times in the story/play (13:11, 15:21, 21:9, 22:10, 25:2, 31:23, 39:16, 39:22) -- often refers to the “dread of the Lord” or “fear of the Lord”. Just as often, it refers to abject terror.

The terms ‘righteous’ and ‘pure’ (4:17) are very common terms. Peterson’s “more” captures the Hebrew comparative. Does the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm in fact build around concepts of ‘God’ as ‘righteous’ and ‘pure’? If so, then what do the breadth and depth of innocent/tragic human suffering imply about the definitions of ‘righteous’ and ‘pure’ in reference to ‘God’? If the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm does not in fact build around such concepts, then the ‘God’ of the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm is above accountability and, therefore, represents ‘might makes right’.

If ‘God’ (as understood within the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm) is righteous within relationships, then this ‘God’ certainly operates by different standards than the standards the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm expects humans to follow in their treatment of others. Does the purity attributed to ‘God’ come from being wholly other (i.e., pure because ‘God’ is different, untouched by the world) or is the purity attributed to ‘God’ moral as well? Job’s torturous experiences and the wider/deeper realities of human suffering would seem to say this ‘God’ is neither righteous nor pure by the standards to which the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm expects humans to follow in their treatment of others.

To say that standards for defining righteousness and purity are not applicable to ‘God’ is to take an easy (but, as the ‘scrapheap’ Job realizes, a horrific) way out. Representatives/guardians of the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm grant each other this easy way out. A ‘non-religious’ and ‘with the world face to face’ approach to ethics, spirituality, and theology neither seeks nor accepts an easy way out, but instead turns away from the ‘God’ language of the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm.

The next thoughts from Eliphaz about ‘God’ (4:18-19) -- which suggest remoteness and a lack of care -- further distance humans from ‘God’. What link exists between these thoughts and the preceding references to the superior righteousness and purity of ‘God’? What do these thoughts imply about ‘God’ as understood within the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm? Is the ‘God’ acknowledged within the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm an inconsistent and paranoid despot (eerily similar to King Saul in need of a youthful David with a lyre)?

The Hebrew word for ‘servant’ (4:18) is the same word used to identify Job in the prologue.

Peterson switches (4:20-21) from third-person pronouns to first-person pronouns. However, the third-person is used through 4:21 in the Hebrew text. Who is speaking in the ‘blur’? in a ‘muffled voice’?

The ‘scrapheap’ Job -- #24

Eliphaz first turns thinking or remembering (implicitly in 4:7, explicitly in 4:8) toward observing human experience. Does/can the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm tolerate doing so if the observing is indiscriminate rather than selective? disturbing rather than supportive? No. Instead, observing human experience is done through the filter/lens of the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm, resulting in explanations that do not threaten the paradigm. Eliphaz then shifts to the insulation of a dream (4:12ff). When in doubt, switch to special revelation claims.

Eliphaz does not start with “just believe”. However, he and the ‘scrapheap’ Job differ radically re what/how to remember. He tries to redirect the ‘scrapheap’ Job’s focus from dwelling on what he (Eliphaz) considers exceptions that do not fit the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm to dwelling on what he (Eliphaz) considers the reassuring norms of the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm.

The ‘scrapheap’ Job is now a ‘story’ – most likely ‘the story’, a headline -- added to the caravan travelers’ reports. I see the caravan travelers as representing circumspection, more than simply telling heart-warming stories. The caravan travelers have time to think. And they have to accommodate different cultures. How does an Eliphaz hear the caravan travelers’ stories? An answer can be found in how he (Bildad and Zophar as well) turns a deaf ear to the ‘scrapheap’ Job. The ‘scrapheap’ Job remembers and references the caravan travelers’ stories, likely regarding them as even more credible now than before tragedies had struck him.

Radical (i.e., to the root) thinking and remembering are difficult when fatigued, but do not thereby lack integrity.

In the first telling of an experience, a person begins to engage in reconstructing the past experience.

Peterson (4:7) has “truly innocent” (the RSV has “innocent”) and “genuinely upright” (the RSV has “upright”) re the righteous/blessed. The Hebrew word for ‘innocent’ can mean clean, free from guilt, free from obligation, exempt. It occurs elsewhere in Job (9:23, 17:8, 22:19, 22:30, 27:17). The word can describe innocent blood (Deut. 19:10, 27:25) or one exempt from military service (Num. 32:22). The word for ‘upright’ is the same word as in the prologue.

‘Truly’ and ‘genuinely’ seem to capture the way the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm makes its confirmation inevitable – i.e., shifting blame to the pretenders. To be ‘truly innocent’ and ‘genuinely upright’ would be to accept and defend the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm. Peterson reinforces this point with “ever ended up on the scrapheap” (RSV’s ‘perished’) and “ever lose out in the end” (RSV’s ‘cut off’). The Hebrew word for ‘perish’ appears frequently in the story/play (3:3, 4:9, 4:11, 4:20, 6:18, 8:13, 11:20, 18:17, 20:7, 29:13, 30:2, 31:19 are all in the active voice; 12:23, intensive; 14:19, causative). The word is a general word for ‘die’. But ‘cut off’ (cf. 15:28, 22:20 in the active; 6:10, 15:18, 27:11 in the intensive; 20:12 in the causative) has more the meaning of ‘being hidden’. By using these two words together, to perish takes on the idea of vanishing (3:3, 18:7, 30:2).

Peterson’s “scrapheap” gets at the idea of no longer being visible or remembered. What is placed there has no value, is forgotten, and eventually becomes as if never having existed. The ‘scrapheap’ metaphor could be associated with a garbage dump or a landfill, with the pile of scrap material at a construction sight, with discarded food scraps.

Does Eliphaz see Job as tossed aside on ‘the scrapheap’? Would Job use such imagery? Does Job use ‘perished’, ‘cut off’, ‘reap’, ‘consumed’, . . . (4:7-11) to describe his condition? He uses ‘perished’ in cursing the day he was born (3:3), but does not apply the word more directly to himself. The three close friends use ‘perish’ in reference to the fate of those who are evil. The verb ‘consumed’ (7:6, 7:9, 11:20, 17:5, 19:27, 33:21 in the active and 9:22, 21:13, 31:16, 36:11 in the intensive) is never specifically applied by the ‘scrapheap’ Job to himself. Eliphaz places the ‘scrapheap’ Job with the wicked, perhaps among the unknowingly wicked. The ‘scrapheap’ Job understands Eliphaz to be placing him among the wicked. On the other hand, the ‘scrapheap’ Job sees himself among the innocent and, thus, as undeserving of such punishment. He sees himself among the ‘consumed’, but not among the ‘wicked’. He is heading to his wife’s conclusion in the prologue -- “If ‘God’ is going to throw me on the scrapheap for no reason, I may as well die.”

Is Eliphaz thinking of the ‘scrapheap’ Job when he introduces the lion metaphor (4:10-11)? Does the ‘scrapheap’ Job identify with this metaphor? Has he now felt the ‘breath of God’? ‘the blast of his anger’? Are his teeth now broken? Does he now lack the ability to capture prey? Are his cubs now scattered? Job’s victorious roar (descriptive of his pre-‘scrapheap’ community standing) has been silenced. He is now reduced to the plight of a lion that can no longer hunt either for itself or for its cubs, that will soon die alone in the field and return to dust. Or Eliphaz could also be interpreted here as demonstrating how, without full awareness or without intention, the oratory (e.g., hymns, prayers, sermons) of the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm victimizes individual sufferers such as the ‘scrapheap’ Job.

Is Eliphaz saying ‘God’ weakens the lion? Does Wisdom literature (e.g., Proverbs) draw from such observations of nature? Where (if at all) does a Lion King’s ‘circle of life’ or a Charlotte’s Web’s ‘Father Time’ fit the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm?

The ‘breath of God’ in Genesis is life giving. (The Hebrew word in Job 4:9b is in Genesis 1; the word in Job 4:9a is not.) Is ‘the breath of God’ viewed as destructive elsewhere in Jewish or Christian scripture?

The ‘scrapheap’ Job -- #23

Are there any indications in the story/play that Job has previously faced life-changing experiences with tragedy (e.g., a relative or close friend or individual for whom he cared whose illnesses, injuries, social plight, and/or aging had reduced him/her to a ‘toothless lion’ -- to use a metaphor introduced by Eliphaz)? I have not yet found such indications.

Eliphaz seems to endorse (4:6) the descriptions of Job celebrated in the prologue. The Hebrew text has a noun (‘your fear’) rather than the verb form used in the prologue. The Hebrew word translated ‘integrity’ is the same root used in the prologue. Are ‘fear of God’ and ‘integrity’ foundational to the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm for considering a person ‘great’? Or do material signs of being blessed (as understood within the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm) lead to the deduction that the individual must, therefore, ‘fear God’ and have ‘integrity’?

When heard/interpreted within the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm, what is Eliphaz saying (4:6) re ‘confidence’ and/or ‘hope’? Confidence and hope may be sequential rather than a parallelism. I hear Eliphaz to be counseling/urging the ‘scrapheap’ Job to “admit your sin and seek again to do right in God’s eyes. . . . There is no other way out of this mess. . . . God is just. . . . You are not.”

Is Eliphaz quoting the pre-tragedy Job’s words to the ‘scrapheap’ Job? It is hardly the place or time for taunting. The three close friends are being ‘pastoral’ in the worst sense. What appears thoughtful to them, Job experiences as thoughtless. Their attempted loyalty backs the ‘scrapheap’ Job against the wall, puts him on the defensive.

For dramatic effect, a pause should occur at the end of Eliphaz’s opening remarks. And then there is the question of how to present the ‘scrapheap’ Job on stage during Eliphaz’s remarks. Is he ignoring Eliphaz? Does he look hurt? surprised? angry?

Eliphaz is arguing for an “If righteous, then blessed” equation/theology in the presence of an utterly devastated friend whom he and the public have considered a unique model of righteousness. Would any variation on the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm restrain Eliphaz?

The ‘scrapheap’ Job may be understood to represent individuals who live their personal lives as if safely in the paradigm’s center but who see/consider the cruel/torturous boundary/marginalizing circumstances others face. The severely abused kids cared for at the K-Bar-B Youth Ranch represent (for me) individuals whose lives begin with boundary/marginalizing experiences. My guidance for our daughters as they have left home – i.e., always test ideas by their implications re the K-Bar-B kids.

A ‘-3 to +3’ spectrum on ‘friendship’ is needed, with the ‘scrapheap’ Job’s definition of friendship (6:14) being ‘+3’ on the spectrum.

Eliphaz admonishes the ‘scrapheap’ Job to ‘think’ (4:7). The Hebrew word can also be translated ‘remember’. The word also occurs in 7:7 (Job), 10:9 (Job), 11:16 (Bildad), 14:13 (Job), 21:6 (Job), 36:24 (Elihu), 40:23 (‘God’).

What place does ‘thinking’/‘remembering’ have in the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm? Does the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm permit or encourage one seriously/radically to consider experiences/data that call into question the paradigm? Or must one’s memory be guided by and exercised in ways consistent with and affirming of the paradigm?

Why does Eliphaz presume the ‘scrapheap’ Job has not been ‘thinking’?

How is ‘thinking’ similar/different in or out of the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm? A pivotal point in my move away from the ‘religious’ sphere to a ‘non-religious’ and ‘with the world face to face’ approach to spirituality, ethics, theology occurred with my realization that within the ‘religious’ sphere I could without reprisal seriously/radically think – even raise core questions – only as long as such inquiry ultimately and in a timely manner confirmed rather than questioned/threatened the ‘religious’ sphere (e.g., sermons, lectures, class discussions, prayers, hymns, articles, books, . . .). In other words, thinking and remembering within the ‘religious’ sphere are exercises in selective memory. As a victim/subject, the ‘scrapheap’ Job can no longer engage in selective memory without violating his integrity, misrepresenting his experience. He cannot ignore or walk away from the ‘scrapheap’.
For a ‘non-religious’ and ‘with the world face to face’ approach to ethics, spirituality, and theology -- observation must be careful, intense, unrestrained, unrestricted. Instead, the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm is looking for support/confirmation.

The ‘scrapheap’ Job -- #22

Eliphaz begins by painting a beautiful picture of the very sensitive and careful Job he remembers (4:3-4). Peterson’s translation says Job has “encouraged those who were about to quit” (the RSV’s “strengthened weak hands”), has “put stumbling people on their feet” (the RSV’s “upheld him who was stumbling”), and has put “fresh hope in people about to collapse” (the RSV’s “made firm the feeble knees”). The key words (underlined) in these phrases should be traced through the rest of the story/play, with particular attention to the ‘scrapheap’ Job’s use of these/similar words to describe himself.

Eliphaz sets out some challenging goals for speaking to/in the presence of a sufferer such as the ‘scrapheap’ Job. Do the three close friends’ repeated failures to meet these goals with their responses to the ‘scrapheap’ Job stem from their inabilities or from an inherent deficiency in the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm that (in)forms their responses? If Job has previously tried to help others through difficulties by defending the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm (perhaps to the sufferer’s own hurt), then the paradigm is at fault. If Job has previously been willing to set aside the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm in order to be authentically and unconditionally with others, then the friends are not as able as he has been in comforting/consoling sufferers. But does the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm tolerate being set aside? What would setting aside the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm imply about the paradigm’s credibility?

Peterson’s translation (4:3a) says Job has “spoken words that clarify” to sufferers (the RSV’s “instructed”). The Hebrew word/idea is to discipline, to admonish, to correct. Is ‘to instruct’ a healthy aim for responding to lament? to agony? No. Efforts to clarify/explain the breadth/depth of human suffering invariably diminish and/or draw away from focus on the sufferer/s. Eliphaz apparently intends to comfort the ‘scrapheap’ Job by correcting his thinking. Is this what Job has previously done for others? Perhaps whether to hear Job’s first words from the ‘scrapheap’ as lament gets to the crux of the three close friends’ problem. If Job’s ‘scrapheap’ thoughts are only therapeutic or liturgical lament, then the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm holds. If Job’s ‘scrapheap’ thoughts represent radically altered insights into what is true/real, then the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm does not hold.

What is the ‘it’ that has befallen the ‘scrapheap’ Job (4:5, RSV)? Peterson’s translation has Eliphaz say, “But now you’re the one in trouble. . . . You’ve been hit hard”. Is this ‘it’ trouble? disaster? lament? loss of confidence in the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm? Perhaps this ‘it’ should be left ambiguous. Or should the antecedent for ‘it’ be considered self-evident? The Hebrew word is feminine. The nearest feminine noun is the reference to ‘feeble knees’. Does feebleness in old age clash with the manner of dying envisioned for the blessed by the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm? Yes.

Peterson’s translation (4:5) has Eliphaz say, “you’re hurting” (the RSV’s “you are impatient”) and “you’re reeling from the blow” (the RSV’s “you are dismayed”). Peterson’s wording focuses on the emotional and even physical impact of the calamities that have struck this ‘scrapheap’ Job. The RSV’s wording points to the impact on his thinking. Eliphaz charges the ‘scrapheap’ Job with impatience. Note that, by doing so, Eliphaz undermines future Jewish and Christian traditional views of Job as the quintessential example of patience (e.g., in Daniel, The Testament of Job, and James).

Is ‘patience’ on the short list of virtues in Jewish thought? Does Eliphaz expect the ‘scrapheap’ Job to respond as described in the prologue (i.e., before the three close friends enter the story/play)? Note they are not present when Job responds in the prologue. How might they have learned of his prologue responses? Eliphaz leaves the impression that Job’s suffering is rather common. He argues that the ‘scrapheap’ Job has neither right nor reason to be impatient. The ‘scrapheap’ Job responds by restating and insisting on his right and his reason to be impatient.

Re ‘touch’ (4:5), the Hebrew word can be translated to touch, to reach, to strike. This verb is used in the story/play as follows (Peterson translation): ‘touch’ (1:11 – the Accuser), ‘struck’ (1:19 – a servant), ‘touch’ (2:5 – the Accuser), ‘touch’ (5:19 – Eliphaz), ‘touch’ (6:7 – Job), ‘touched’ (19:21 – Job), ‘reach’ (20:6 – Zophar). Note that most references associate ‘touch’ with ‘harm’. ‘Touch/ed’ is one more term among the terms found in the prologue to the story/play that are given ironic meanings in the heated exchanges between the ‘scrapheap’ Job and his three close friends.

Perhaps ‘it’ (4:5) points to the ‘who is doing this to Job?’ dispute in the prologue references to ‘touch’. Is it ‘God’? or the Accuser? Eliphaz introduces the category/concept of evil in his reference to ‘touch’ (5:19), just after describing ‘God’ as wounding individuals. The ‘scrapheap’ Job seems to have drawn his conclusion – “the hand of God has touched me” (19:21). Does Eliphaz’s reference to evil imply the idea of a malevolent metaphysical reality separate and independent from ‘God’? If so, such would be distinct from the Accuser in the prologue in that there the Accuser is one of the messengers and is presented as at least to some degree subservient to ‘God’.

The ‘scrapheap’ Job -- #21

The beginning of Eliphaz’s response (4:2) is as critical a turning point as is the ‘scrapheap’ Job’s beginning to speak in the presence of his three close friends (3:2ff). In both places, a strategic interpretation decision must be made. I faced this decision in my first serious study of the story/play, occasioned by a senior undergraduate oral interpretation course during the spring 1974 semester. Each student worked all semester on one oral reading for the course. My reading – the ‘scrapheap’ Job’s first words (chapter 3) when he broke the silence with his three close friends.

Peterson’s translation has Eliphaz explain, “It’s hard to keep quiet” (RSV – “Who can keep from speaking?”). Why is Eliphaz trying to keep quiet? And why is it so hard to keep quiet? The impulse to respond when a friend speaks, especially with such jagged views and feelings as the ‘scrapheap’ Job has just expressed, is quite common. Perhaps Eliphaz holds explanations of the ‘scrapheap’ Job’s calamities he does not think Job is ready to hear. Perhaps he is trying to be quiet in deference to the ‘scrapheap’ Job as his teacher/elder. (Would the three close friends all say -- as is proposed in the prologue -- that Job is “the greatest . . .”?) Perhaps he is searching for an appropriate response. Perhaps he fears that remaining silent implies approval. Perhaps he is hesitant to speak for ‘God’.

Whatever the three close friends have been thinking while sitting in silence with the ‘scrapheap’ Job for seven days and nights, their ‘religious’ T/O paradigm theology has not prepared them for Job’s first words from the ‘scrapheap’. Eliphaz is caught off guard. How should he respond to a teacher/elder who is taking positions so radically different from his previous, familiar, published views? (Note the parallel with the reactions Eberhard Bethge recalled for me in one of our conversations re the reactions of the pre-1939 friends/students of Dietrich Bonhoeffer to Dietrich’s post-1939 and, especially, to his prison correspondence ideas re a ‘non-religious’ approach to spirituality, ethics, theology.)

Eliphaz could be cast as cautious and gentle (i.e., Peterson’s “Would you mind . . .”; RSV’s “If one ventures a word with you, will you be offended?”). Perhaps he could be read/heard in a way that suggests fear and uncertainty (i.e., “Were your former words -- which we too adopted and trusted -- hollow?”). He certainly picks up steam as he prods the ‘scrapheap’ Job back toward the presumed safety of the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm.

The most intriguing/challenging character to me is missing in the story/play -- i.e., a character who can be present with the ‘scrapheap’ Job without harming him further. I would have to write such a character into the story/play in an unassuming role (e.g., a valet, a servant, a ‘scrapheap’ worker). I would have this missing character either remain silent or respond by encouraging the ‘scrapheap’ Job to continue speaking. Such a character would represent a ‘non-religious’ and ‘with the world face to face’ approach to spirituality, ethics, theology.

How would Eliphaz be understood by those reading/watching the story/play who have no idea what is to follow as the story/play unfolds? Note that Eliphaz sees the ‘scrapheap’ Job as not yet collapsed, fallen. He sees him reeling, but not yet knocked out.

The ‘scrapheap’ Job’s response to Eliphaz suggests he is surprised and disappointed by Eliphaz’s reactions. Why does the ‘scrapheap’ Job think Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar can/will be friends who can/will remain loyal in spite of his expressed despair? Why does he think he can say in their presence what he has not previously said, even to ‘God’? Have they missed key ideas when he had previously “instructing many”, ideas that could have prepared them for what they are now hearing? Has the ‘scrapheap’ Job tried to think critically? with them? If Job is case as ‘the greatest’, I would cast his three close friends as in the top ten ‘greatest’. Have they previously listened passively to Job and assumed he would figure out the problems, untangle the knots? Or have they put more stock in Job’s ‘on the record’ advocacy of the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm rather than in his ‘off the record’ questioning?

The ‘scrapheap’ Job -- #20

Note the dramatic shift from the prologue’s description of Job as ‘hedged about’ (e.g., 1:10) to the ‘scrapheap’ Job’s feeling “hedged in” (3.21) – i.e., a shift from the image of being protected to the image of being trapped/cornered. How does the ‘scrapheap’ Job see ‘God’ blocking all the roads to meaning? Is the idea that ‘God’ blocks a person’s life from having meaning an idea endorsed within the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm?

Peterson’s “ . . . vomit my anguish” is more vivid than the RSV’s “my groanings are poured out like water” (3:24). The word is ‘roarings’ rather than ‘groanings’ (which implies greater pain). Peterson captures well the meaning/image. The ‘scrapheap’ Job’s roarings are like flowing water, perhaps like water flowing wildly down a wadi.

The ‘scrapheap’ Job ends his first comments to/before his three close friends with references to “the worst of my fears” and “what I’ve dreaded most” (3:25-26). These comments stand in sharp contrast to the prologue’s presentation of Job. The ‘scrapheap’ Job’s critique of conventional ‘wisdom’ has created his dread/fear (i.e., due to observing ‘life under the sun’ more radically/indiscriminately than has his three close friends). The ‘religious’ T/O paradigm did not create his dread/fear since such dread/fear would be considered evidence of faithlessness.

Word studies re ‘fear’ and ‘dread’ in the story/play are needed. Most of the references quickly or eventually lead to comments about fear/dread of ‘God’.

What might be the ‘scrapheap’ Job’s worst fear/s? Perhaps the loss of ease, quiet, and rest (3:26). If so, what would this say about Job? about the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm? about ‘God’? Another possibility might be his realizing, “I do not have life (and, therefore, ‘God’) figured out”, accentuated by his now being among those cast aside on the ‘scrapheap’ as cursed. The accumulating data anomalous to his ‘religious’ T/O paradigm are large in number/force and growing. His becoming a victim has enlarged the anomalous data pile to the point of overwhelming his ‘religious’ T/O paradigm.

For another angle, imagine Job and his three close friends having often discussed the subject of human suffering before his tragic circumstances occurred. Human suffering for the ‘scrapheap’ Job is now no longer abstract, no longer an idea, no longer a question. The ‘scrapheap’ Job can no longer distract himself or walk away from a discussion of the subject. He now embodies the subject. His admitting fear and dread (3:25-26) indicates he knows of others whose plights the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm cannot explain or protect. Is his fear and dread, then, that his life is a frightening anomaly to the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm? that -- being his own experience -- his plight has sufficient weight to discredit the understanding of ‘God’ in relation to human experience upon which he has based his life?

I suspect many individuals within the ‘religious’ sphere live with the ‘scrapheap’ Job’s fear and dread. They cling to explanations of life experiences offered within the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm, all the while being haunted by the sense that the paradigm has serious flaws. They are left with a fragile and self-deceiving approach to spirituality, ethics, theology. At one end of the spectrum are those deluded by accepted ‘religious’ T/O paradigm authorities. At the other end of the spectrum are those no longer deluded. Between these ends of the spectrum are those sufficiently aware of and uncomfortable with observable realities to (attempt to) delude or distract themselves.

Eliphaz (the first of the three close friends to respond) might hear the ‘scrapheap’ Job’s reference to his fear and dread as an admission of guilt. Do the three close friends think something not yet known to them must be going on? Do they see Job’s life before the calamities to have been too good to be true? Do they wonder if ‘God’ has been setting the arrogant Job up for an eventual and complete fall?

What is the place of fear and dread – very strong moods/assessments -- in the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm? By the point of admitting such, that which is feared and dreaded is already having deep effect. Think in terms of a continuum that moves from naiveté to wonder to awareness to nervousness to concern to fear and dread. The fear and dread the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm tolerates stem from guilt – i.e., waiting for the other ‘shoe to drop’. Is such fear and dread the ‘scrapheap’ Job’s fear and dread?

What is Eliphaz dreading (4:14)? the nearness of ‘God’? bad news for the ‘scrapheap’ Job?

One distinguishing trait of a ‘non-religious’ and ‘with the world face to face’ approach to spirituality is the absence of such fear and dread. There is no ‘God’ language in this approach to spirituality that leads to the fear and dread the ‘scrapheap’ Job is experiencing. Instead, an awareness or consciousness that does not press one to sift through human experience in order to stay safely at a distance from the depth/breadth of human suffering prompts awe and sober mindedness.

Is Peterson’s “death has invaded life” (3:26, RSV “but trouble comes”) an appropriate interpretation? Yes. The idea in antiquity was that death actively invaded life and dragged victims into the underworld. Illness and trouble were understood in antiquity to be results of death invading life.

The ‘scrapheap’ Job -- #19

The ‘scrapheap’ Job “cursed the day of his birth” (3:1). But he is not the only one born on that day. In cursing his day of birth, he curses their day of birth too. The consequences of such a cursing would have befallen them as well. This self-centeredness is noticeably parallel to the lack of regard or respect the prologue ‘God’ has for those damaged or destroyed around Job in the two cycles of calamities. Servants die and no doubt some of the marauding enemies die too. I would cast the prologue Job as near enough to offer aid to some of these sufferers, but safely distant -- existentially and theologically -- from the harsh realities of suffering until such came to him.

What concretely would the ‘scrapheap’ Job be expecting if indeed his day of birth is cursed? Perhaps he is wishing the day would somehow be skipped over in the calendar. Or perhaps he is wishing that everyone born on that day would be stillborn or die soon after birth.

The ‘scrapheap’ Job refers to “those who are good at cursing” (3:8). Who is he asking to curse the day of his birth? What skill do they have? The ‘scrapheap’ Job’s lament shifts from third-person to first-person (vs. 11). Is he addressing ‘God’ in part or all of his lament? Is he addressing anyone at all? Or is he saying he would “curse the day of his birth” if he could?

Is ‘the day’ to which the ‘scrapheap’ Job refers the day of his conception? Peterson has “the night of my conception” (3:6). Or is it the day of his delivery (e.g., 3:7, 11)? The Hebrew wording suggests both. Does the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm attribute stillbirths to the intentions and plans of ‘God’ (as 3:16 suggests)? Yes.

Re his date of birth, the ‘scrapheap’ Job longs -- “ . . . turn that night into pure nothingness” (3:7). The RSV has “let that night be barren”. The Hebrew word here is a rare word that has to do with absence of life (e.g., a barren woman, a barren desert).

Is there a link – philosophical or symbolic – between ‘barren’ and ‘nothingness’? Did Jewish thought in antiquity include the metaphysical concept of ‘nothingness’ (as in existential philosophy or as in Barth’s way of viewing ‘evil’ as nothingness)? Koheleth (the Ecclesiastes essay) and the ‘scrapheap’ Job sound ‘existential’ in many ways. Sheol was understood in antiquity to be a fading into nothingness, an eventual nothingness. However, ‘God’ was not thought to have created out of nothingness (ex nihilo creation being a later/Christian extrapolation). Not being inclined toward metaphysical reflection, Jewish thinkers in antiquity apparently did not feel disturbed by the implied dualism of ‘God’ and ‘matter’ as in potter and clay.

The ‘scrapheap’ Job agonizes, “Why didn’t I die at birth . . .” (3:11ff). It is important to track closely the perceptions of death and dying throughout the story/play. Does Job change his perceptions of death? of the dying process? of the dying experience? Yes. His perceptions change in significant ways as his experience suddenly shifts toward and remains disturbingly similar to the stories the caravan travelers are telling around campfires about the desperate aspects of the human condition. The ‘scrapheap’ Job experiences firsthand how tragic and ugly suffering/dying can be. On the other hand, according to Eliphaz (5:26), the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm promises a very different dying experience – i.e., a romanticized, idyllic death.

The ‘scrapheap’ Job presses -- “Why does God bother giving light to the miserable, . . .” (3:20-22). His statements make vivid how “his suffering was very great” (2:13) – especially his references to those “who want in the worst way to die” (RSV “who long for death”) and “who can’t imagine anything better than death” (RSV “who dig for it more than for hidden treasures”). Does the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm attribute the survival and continuing existence of every miserable individual directly and intentionally to ‘God’? I think this deduction cannot be avoided within the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm. There is obvious relevancy here for the assisted dying issues in the practice of medicine.

The ‘scrapheap’ Job laments -- “What’s the point of life when it doesn’t make sense, when God blocks all the roads to meaning?” (3:23). Peterson’s paraphrase is a bit loose. He does, however, capture the sense quite well. The RSV has “a man whose way is hid”. The Hebrew words for ‘hid’ in 3:21 and 3:23 are not the same. The RSV has “fenced in” (not the same verb as in 1:10). The ‘scrapheap’ Job’s idea/question is -- “Why does a person continue to live when the way is hidden or the person is fenced in? Why would God do such a cruel thing?”

This question (3:23) is dependent on/rooted in the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm. The ‘scrapheap’ Job still thinks at this point there is sense or meaning to his life, but it is hidden from him. Would disclosure of the prologue’s scenes in the courts of ‘God’ satisfy the ‘scrapheap’ Job’s search for sense or meaning to his plight? I think not. Not far ahead for him is the thought that in fact there is no longer any divinely intended/designed sense or meaning to his life. He then will face a radical (i.e., to the root) decision/threshold – whether or not to conclude that no one’s life has the purpose or the meaning proposed within the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm.

The ‘religious’ T/O paradigm works off the premise that life’s divinely intended/designed sense or meaning is sufficiently clear to establish confidence that the paradigm is reliable. The ‘scrapheap’ Job’s experience leads him to the opposite view. He sits on the ‘scrapheap’ frustrated and tortured, with the decision whether or not to reject the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm drawing nearer and nearer.

The ‘scrapheap’ Job -- #18

[The primary references to the text for the Job story/play come from Eugene Peterson’s translation -- The Message of Job. I have copied the section of the story/play to which the postings that follow the text relate – i.e., the first statements Job utters from the ‘scrapheap’ (3:1-26) and the first responses from his close friend Eliphaz (4:1-21). Postings #19-#24 follow.]

3.1Then Job broke the silence. 2He spoke up and cursed his fate:

3“Obliterate the day I was born. Blank out the night I was conceived! 4Let it be a black hole in space. May God above forget it ever happened. Erase it from the books! 5May the day of my birth be buried in deep darkness, shrouded by the fog, swallowed by the night. 6And the night of my conception – the devil take it! Rip the date off the calendar, delete it from the almanac. 7Oh, turn that night into pure nothingness – no sounds of pleasure from that night, ever! 8May those who are good at cursing curse that day. Unleash the sea beast, Leviathan, on it. 9May its morning stars turn to black cinders, waiting for a daylight that never comes, never once seeing the first light of dawn. 10And why? Because it released me from my mother’s womb into a life with so much trouble. 11Why didn’t I die at birth, my first breath out of the womb my last? 12Why were there arms to rock me, and breasts for me to drink from? 13I could be resting in peace right now, asleep forever, feeling no pain, 14in the company of kings and statesmen in their royal ruins, 15or with princes resplendent in their gold and silver tombs. 16Why wasn’t I stillborn and buried with all the babies who never saw light, 17where the wicked no longer trouble anyone and bone-weary people get a long-deserved rest? 18Prisoners sleep undisturbed, never again to wake up to the bark of the guards. 19The small and the great are equals in that place, and slaves are free from their masters. 20Why does God bother giving light to the miserable, why bother keeping bitter people alive, 21those who want in the worst way to die, and can’t, who can’t imagine anything better than death, 22who count the day of their death and burial the happiest day of their life? 23What’s the point of life when it doesn’t make sense, when God blocks all the roads to meaning? 24Instead of bread I get groans for my supper, then leave the table and vomit my anguish. 25The worst of my fears has come true, what I’ve dreaded most has happened. 26My repose is shattered, my peace destroyed. No rest for me, ever – death has invaded life.”

4.1Then Eliphaz from Teman spoke up:

2Would you mind if I said something to you? Under the circumstances it’s hard to keep quiet. 3You yourself have done this plenty of times, spoken words that clarify, encouraged those who were about to quit. 4Your words have put stumbling people on their feet, put fresh hope in people about to collapse. 5But now you’re the one in trouble – you’re hurting! You’ve been hit hard and you’re reeling from the blow. 6But shouldn’t your devout life give you confidence now? Shouldn’t your exemplary life give you hope?

7Think! Has a truly innocent person ever ended up on the scrapheap? Do genuinely upright people ever lose out in the end? 8It’s my observation that those who plow evil and sow trouble reap evil and trouble. 9One breathe from God and they fall apart, one blast of his anger and there’s nothing left of them. 10The mighty lion, king of the beasts, roars mightily, 11but when he’s toothless he’s useless – no teeth, no prey – and the cubs wander off to fend for themselves.

12A word came to me in secret – a mere whisper of a word, but I heard it clearly. 13It came in a scary dream one night, after I had fallen into a deep, deep sleep. 14Dread stared me in the face, and terror. I was scared to death – I shook from head to foot. 15A spirit glided right in front of me – the hair on my head stood on end. 16I couldn’t tell what it was that appeared there – a blur . . . and then I heard a muffled voice:
17“How can mere mortals be more righteous than God? How can humans be purer than their creator? 18Why, God doesn’t even trust his own servants, doesn’t even cheer his angels. 19So how much less these bodies composed of mud, fragile as moths? 20These bodies of ours are here today and gone tomorrow, and no one even notices – gone without a trace. 21When the tent stakes are ripped up, the tent collapses – we die and are never the wiser for having lived.”

A Non-religious View of Dietrich Bonhoeffer’ -- #7

Reflections from Journal Entries

In May 1992 – having left a place/career as a history professor within the ‘religious’ sphere and moved from Memphis to Vermont in order to be directly/intimately ‘with the world face to face’ within the medical education/practice sphere, I began jotting down my descriptions and reflections in shirt-pocket size notepads. I did not begin adding a month and year notation to such journal entries until our move January 1995 from Vermont to New Orleans to fill an ethics educator position with the LSU School of Medicine’s Obstetrics and Gynecology Department. I have continued this journaling to the present.

When I began drafting journal entries in Vermont, I had passed a point of no return re the resolve to see ever more closely/clearly ‘from below’ and, associated with this resolve, to thoroughly explore/adopt a ‘non-religious’ way of being/thinking. In my journal entries, I did not mask the range of emotions – e.g., disappointment, fear, uncertainty, exhilaration, loneliness, wonder, gratitude, . . . -- I was experiencing as I moved away from the familiar shoreline and out into the uncharted sea. When beginning to swim or sail away from a coastal shoreline, the waves push back to the shore. Considerable energy and resolve are required to counter this push back to the shore. Some of the waves I had to counter surrounded me – e.g., the responsibilities as a spouse and parent, the concerns of extended family members, the expectations of friends, the inaccurate assumptions new acquaintances made about my training in theology, . . . . Many of these individuals – with no basis to understand the situation and with my limited ability to explain – called me back to the shoreline and, in some cases, tried to rescue me from the uncharted sea. Some of the waves I had to counter were inside me as I discovered more and more layers of ‘religious’ habit and instinct I had to unlearn.

This existential move necessitated a relentless critique/clarification of the meanings/nuances of the term ‘religion’. I had no other comparable counterpoint in this examination than the Letters and Papers from Prison Dietrich Bonhoeffer, an association profoundly intensified by my fortuitous 1993 meeting with and subsequent special friendship with Eberhard and Renate Bethge.

Here is a first set of ten reflections selected/adapted from my 1992-95 Vermont journal entries that illustrate a determination to achieve this critique/clarification of the term ‘religion’ as one new experience followed another.

1 The ‘religious’ sphere I have in mind (1) encourages adherents to expect providential protection from tragic/suffering experiences and (2) instructs adherents to view such experiences as only appearing to be (rather than as being in fact) tragic and/or innocent suffering.

[Note: At that time, I had in mind primarily the Christian ‘religion’ I had experienced from birth and had studied across its twenty centuries of history. I had become increasingly aware that experiencing and interpreting an approach to spirituality and ethics ‘with the world face to face’ required that I be very precise about my critique of ‘religion’. The term ‘sphere’ points to the dynamics – e.g., traditions, assumptions, language, liturgies, defining ideas, symbols, methodologies, values, distribution of authority, expectations, discipline, loyalty, . . . – within which the identity of those who seek/hold membership in the ‘sphere’ takes shape.]

2 ‘Religion’ -- according to Dietrich Bonhoeffer in Letters and Papers from Prison -- (1) follows the ‘inner line’ (rather than seriously engaging ‘the world’ as does the ‘outer line’ by which one remains ‘face to face with the world’), (2) associates ‘God’ partially, marginally, and in ‘the gaps’ re life experiences, (3) uses the word ‘God’ in ways analogous to the ancient theatre’s deus ex machina, (4) expects privileged treatment, (5) turns inward, (6) presumes to be society’s tutor, (7) capitalizes/builds on human weakness. My critique of ‘religion’ -- in addition to Bonhoeffer’s critique (with which I agree) in Letters and Papers from Prison – includes the proposals that ‘religion’ (1) expects adherents to be able to ‘get home by suppertime’ re interactions with ‘the world’, (2) presumes and requires some variation on a pre-modern world/life view, (3) expects adherents to treat their ‘religious’ experience as an end in itself, (4) is deeply self-conscious, (5) can permit no unconditional human relationships, (6) is idolatrous, (7) is immodest, (8) is a business, (9) is exclusive, (10) is compromised by financial investments, (11) insists on its vocabulary/discourse, (12) is overtly and/or eventually opposed to serious/radical inquiry, (13) is institutionalized, (14) is cultish, (15) offers false security. Does the presence of one such trait of ‘religion’ imply or necessitate the presence of all such traits of ‘religion’? I do not think so. However, analogous to a patient presenting symptoms to a physician, I have found that several of the traits tend to exist together. I do think the number and intensity of such traits increase as one looks toward the evangelical/fundamentalist expressions of the ‘religious’ sphere and diminish as one looks toward the unorthodox/heretical edge of the ‘religious’ sphere.

3 ‘Religion’ builds on human weakness in a way that leads to timidity, false pride/humility, and an unhealthy co-dependency on ‘God’ (analogous to children who remain childishly dependent on parents long past childhood age).

4 Jewish scripture and Christian scripture (minus Ecclesiastes and Job) were written from deeply ‘religious’ perspectives.

[Note: I had in mind the nuances for ‘religion’ discussed in the earlier entries. I have since come to exercise the same caution when entering writings in Jewish scripture or Christian scripture as when entering ‘religious’ gatherings. Without the ending paragraph to Ecclesiastes and without the prologue/epilogue to Job, I suspect both texts would not have gained canonical standing.]

5 ‘Religion’ presupposes a ‘scripture’ paradigm (with some adherents willing to admit exceptions to the paradigm on certain points, but in few enough instances not to be compelled to radically question or forfeit the paradigm).

[Note: I was raised in a denomination of Christianity that immersed me in an extreme example of a ‘scripture’ paradigm. ‘Scripture’ was treated as a flat, unified book with a single (divine) author. No consideration was given to historical or textual criticism. References to scripture texts were regarded as final, independently authoritative, and self-evidently understandable. For a time, I was not too disturbed by the growing number of flaws within ‘scripture’ paradigms I discovered as my graduate studies advanced. Eventually, the weight and number of the flaws raised my concern to the point I concluded academic and existential integrity necessitated discarding any ‘scripture’ paradigm prerequisite to the attempt to see, think, act.]

6 ‘Religious’ traits can be demonstrated (in a Tillichian way) to be present in ‘spheres’ other than the ‘religious sphere’. Therefore, to be(come) ‘religionless’ is not a matter of moving away from organized/institutionalized ‘religion’ while associations/memberships with other societal ‘spheres’ remain unexamined/unchanged. Instead, be(com)ing ‘religionless’ has to do with a spiritual death (if one is moving away from the ‘religious’ sphere) and with a way of being that is defined by (1) the ‘wilderness’ metaphor and (2) genuine/vulnerable ‘community’ with those who are by existential lot ‘religionless’ in the sense of being shunned by societal spheres (including the ‘religious’ sphere).

7 ‘Religion’ cannot avoid ‘partiality’ (as discussed by Bonhoeffer in his prison correspondence) in that life experiences that do not confirm the ‘religious’ paradigm/orthodoxy (1) are minimized, (2) are interpreted in a way that removes the offense, and/or (3) are ignored/avoided.

8 The ‘non-religious’ approach I am following focuses/centers ethics on the ‘outer line’ (Bonhoeffer’s Letters and Papers phrase). ‘Outer line’ is for me another way to say ‘with the world face to face’. Bonhoeffer saw the Confessing Church turn inward (i.e., the ‘inner line’) by 1938 after failing as a strategy of non-violent overt resistance against the Nazis. By remaining focused on the ‘outer line’, Bonhoeffer became increasingly marginal to the Confessing Church during the war years as he participated instead in the covert resistance cell embedded in the Abwehr.

9 Traits of a ‘non-religious’ experience of ‘community’ would include gratitude, vulnerability, hiddenness, penitence, humility, silence, absence of special privileges, open/unrestricted inquiry, trust that includes doubt, the ability/courage to conceive of not being perpetuated, . . . .

[Note: I now do not think ‘include’ is strong enough. ‘Is at its core’ or ‘is in essence’ or ‘is by definition’ would be more accurate. The point is that being ‘non-religious’ entails a communal experience clearly distinguishable from a ‘religious’ experience of ‘community’. The implication is that ‘religion’ lacks in essence the ‘community’ traits listed in #9 above.]

10 Being ‘non-religious’ correlates with being ‘post-suicidal’ (in the existential/spiritual sense discussed by Walker Percy who proposed that a writer is not prepared to write a novel until s/he is ‘post-suicidal’).

Image #14

Franklin, TN, home . . . 2004 . . . eye to eye . . . the excess bits falling . . . guilt . . . charm . . . from foe to friend for a birdlover . . .

Image #13

Nashville . . . 2004 . . . the lawn in front of the Parthenon replica . . . underneath the grass cover . . . brilliant . . . the beauty we walk on . . .

Image #12

#12 -- Harpeth Presbyterian (USA) Church . . . 2004 . . . a blade's complexity . . . the lines . . . the texture . . . the lure . . .

Image #11

Franklin, TN, home . . . 2003 . . . beauty below the mailbox . . . stretched out in the street to see . . . the life cycle in two inches . . . the angles . . . the impressionist leaf . . .

Seeing 'Jesus' from Below #4

The gift of friendship with Sheldon Korones, MD, radically (i.e., down into the root) altered my approach to spirituality and ethics in the mid-1980s and continues to anchor my attempt to be authentically ‘with the world face to face’ within the medical education/practice sphere. Dr. Korones was one of the first generation of academic physicians who in the 1960s pioneered the formation of the neonatology specialty. In 1968 he left a lucrative private pediatric practice to establish an intensive care unit for critically ill newborns at Memphis’ Charity Hospital.

I came to our first meeting expecting to be oriented to the ethical strains peculiar to the care of critically ill newborns. We quickly found our way to a much deeper and more profound place as we shared our stories. After a few meetings, Shelly invited me to spend a six-month sabbatical at his side. I discovered a physician seasoned in the struggle to be humane toward disadvantaged and vulnerable patients. As a wall-hanging reminds him and every person who enters his office --

“Some children may dance to the joyous music of the lyre, while elsewhere other children only cling to existence. They are all ours.”

After completing his pediatrics residency in 1954 at Boston General Hospital, Shelly and his wife Judy moved to Memphis where he joined a medical school friend in a private pediatric practice. He faced a severe social contrast. He spent his mornings at Charity Hospital; his afternoons at his private (“carriage”) practice. His morning patients – poor and/or black-skinned babies – were dying in infancy at twice the rate of his afternoon patients – privileged white-skinned babies. Memphians, as was true across the South, remained entrenched in discrimination and in injustices when he made the decision in 1967 to leave private practice in order to devote himself to his Charity Hospital patients.

An eight-year-old white-skinned boy, after noticing a black-skinned girl in an exam room, could question Shelly – his doctor -- innocently, “I didn’t know you treated animals here.”

Medical students and residents, while rounding with him at Charity Hospital, would repeatedly express disrespect for their indigent patients by asking Shelly, “How should we treat a private patient with this condition?”

White-skinned parents would tell Shelly, “I’d rather our baby die than be taken to that ‘nigger’ hospital.”

A fellow physician, from whom he expected support, could whisper to Shelly, “It’s too dark for me on this side of the restaurant.”

Philanthropists would tell Shelly, “You’ll never raise money from this city for those
babies.”

The contrast ate at Shelly’s conscience. As did a noble theme first planted in him by his grandfather -- Nachman Gogel -- in whose shadow he was raised on New York City’s Lower East Side.

Shelly’s instinct to respond to crushing oppression formed from this oft-repeated childhood scene. It’s 1930. Six-year-old Shelly is nestled in front of a Fada Radio, listening attentively to the day’s episodes of Jack Armstrong. The stubble-bearded Nachman locks the dark green doors of his nearby blacksmith shop. Walking around the corner, he climbs a flight of steps to the landing of a modest five-room ‘railroad flat’. Shelly eagerly meets his grandfather in front of the dining room buffet. With unequal strides, they make their way to the living room where Nachman settles into his chair. The stocky lad begins his nightly ritual. Pulling off the heavy work boots and socks, Shelly runs his fingers over each foot’s single chunk of nailless flesh that had once been separate toes. Shelly prods Nachman to repeat yet again the painful memories always just a thought away. Conversing in Yiddish, they reenact an old Russian proverb that says, “A child’s education begins with his grandfather’s education.”

“Papa, tell me again what happened to your toes.”
“My son, Cossacks chased me. I hid in the forest for a long time. My toes froze off in my shoes.”

With these few words, Nachman’s attention would drift to 1880s Czarist Russia, to the peasant village of Mogilyov. Jewish parents in the hundreds of villages like Mogilyov stopped at nothing to keep their boys from being snatched by the marauding Cossacks who enforced the Czar’s harsh conscription laws. Conscription for Jewish boys meant more than military service. It meant to be brutally stripped of their identity. In far away military schools, they were severely beaten, forced to violate dietary traditions, and even denied food. One freezing winter night, young Nachman Gogel suffered severe frostbite in the woods while hiding from the Cossacks.

The year 1968 is remembered more often for the death of noble themes than the birth of noble themes:

• January - The Tet Offensive shatters reassuring interpretations of the Vietnam conflict.
  
• February - The Turner Commission releases its warning that two separate and unequal societies -- one black and one white -- remain entrenched in the United States.
• March - President Johnson announces he will not seek reelection.
• April - Martin Luther King is fatally wounded on the balcony of the Lorraine Hotel in Memphis. Riots leave over 100 cities in flames.
• June - Robert Kennedy is fatally wounded on the night he wins the California primary.
• August - The processes of democracy virtually collapse at the Chicago Democratic convention.

Overshadowed by such disheartening headlines, Shelly announced 1 July 1968 to the medical school and to the city his intention to create at Memphis’ Charity Hospital an intensive care unit for critically ill newborns. The scenario still looks quixotic. A physician with an uneasy conscience who dared to dream. A city polarized and embarrassed. A medical school and city hospital with neither plan nor funds for newborn intensive care. Skeptical local philanthropists before whom Shelly peddled his vision in vain. And yet three years later -- with the support of the local media, a persistent reporter, some diligent nurses, an encouraging Pediatrics Department chairman, a new Charity Hospital board, a strategically placed Children’s Bureau official in Washington, a courageous rabbi, a few faithful friends, and an unwavering family -- The Newborn Center had been established.

The story unfolded under Shelly’s direction for thirty-six years. Critically ill babies received state-of-the-art care, regardless of socio-economic or ethnic distinctions. They were referred to by names or personal pronouns rather than by bed numbers, disorders, or illnesses. Even the sickest of the babies were given every plausible chance to defy the odds.

One night in 1979 Shelly was on call when a baby, asphyxiated at birth, needed to be transferred to The Newborn Center from a town in Mississippi for intensive respiratory therapy. In route the ambulance had an accident, killing the driver but leaving the baby unharmed. Another ambulance delivered the baby to The Newborn Center. Making his way through the nursery shortly after the baby had been stabilized, Shelly initiated conversation with the baby’s nervous rural southern grandmother standing beside the incubator.

Korones: “Somebody up there must like this baby.”

Grandmother: “Oh yes, wasn’t it lucky that a doctor came by when the accident happened?”

Korones: “No, the luck was that the baby didn’t need a doctor.”

Grandmother: “I guess you’re right. You’re such a fine Christian person.”

Korones: “No, I’m not a Christian.”

Grandmother: “You mean you take care of babies at all hours of the night and you’re not a Christian?”

Korones: “No, I’m Jewish. We love babies too.”

Embarrassed and confused by her innocent assumption, the slow speaking grandmother shuffled out of the unit.

Though not as unprepared as that grandmother, the approach to spirituality and ethics I brought to my friendship with Shelly had no well-defined place for the relationship that formed between us. Shelly and I have now spent hundreds of hours together – in the intensive care unit, in his office, or at his kitchen table -- reconstructing his professional biography . . . and sorting through my search for a healthy center. He has never flinched as I have chronicled my efforts to ‘see from below’. In the center of the inner circle of individuals who have comprised my most intimate ‘community’ stands a Jewish physician for whom I have utmost respect and appreciation. I quickly realized my approach to spirituality and ethics had to be thoroughly reconstructed in order to celebrate and nurture our friendship/fellowship without restraint or diminishment.

In my office hangs a photograph of a gentle hand cradling the tiny head of a prematurely born baby. The inscription on the back --

“Consummate comrade-in-arms, dear friend. Shelly.”

And so we remain.

A Non-Religious View of Dietrich Bonhoeffer #6

A ‘Non-religious’ Critique of ‘God’ Language - 3

6. If the Vanderbilt professor’s presentations matter, they must matter in the sanctuary. It seems to me the ‘God’ language heard in the sanctuaries of the congregations toward the liberal end of the theological spectrum (and, therefore, the congregations that would be most responsive in the classroom to presentations such as the Vanderbilt professor’s presentations) stops far short of building intentionally and consciously off a serious regard for the morphic nature of ‘God’ language. If the Vanderbilt professor’s proposals are taken into the sanctuary -- what happens to the manner of praying? to reading/hearing scripture? to the choice of and interpretation of hymns? to reasoning in sermons? to . . . ? I guess it is obvious why I am drawn toward the story of the ‘scrapheap’ Job and the Ecclesiastes essay, toward the ‘negative theology’ tradition, toward the Letters and Papers Bonhoeffer, toward Berdyaev, toward the silence of the Quaker tradition, toward . . . . To continue the comparison with ‘Santa Claus’ language I mentioned yesterday -- it seems to me that, even in the more liberal and thoughtful congregations, the most senior and adult members still for the most part ‘believe’.

7. I agree with your observation that explicitly prefacing every ‘God’ language statement in the sanctuary with a reminder about the morphic nature of the statement would not be practical and would sap the language of force/momentum. How, then, is the idolatrous use and hearing of ‘God’ language to be approached? ‘Idolatry’ is a very intense word/assessment (somewhat analogous to ‘epidemic’ in public health discourse) – i.e., ‘idolatry’ is one of those words better left unused unless one is prepared to follow through with the implications. If the use/hearing of ‘God’ language is in fact idolatrous, should these linguistic idols be allowed (much less, endorsed) as one among several ways to speak of and experience ‘God’? I think the answer should be ‘no’, except for young children who are not yet mature enough to think more abstractly (again, the ‘Santa Claus’ comparison). For them, crossing from a literal to a morphic understanding of ‘God’ language should be a necessary stage in theological and spiritual maturation. I asked you how the congregation’s leaders would respond to this proposal. You described their approach to such matters as ‘equal opportunity’ rather than ‘affirmative action’, meaning that the leaders would hesitate to be aggressive or to take a stand. I responded by pressing that ‘idolatrous’ necessitates ‘affirmative action’. I see at least three reasons there would be great risk in breaking down the linguistic idols in the sanctuary. (1) The weight of the Jewish and Christian canons, Christian theology, and Christian liturgy is on the side of protecting the linguistic idols. (2) Imagine a 1-to-10 spectrum with ‘1’ representing ‘uncritical thinking’ and ‘10’ representing ‘critical thinking’. ‘Moderate’ congregations would be in the 4-to-7 range. ‘Progressive’ congregations would be in the 8-to-10 range. ‘Moderate’ congregations (i.e., 4-to-7 on the spectrum) as well as ‘popular religion’/‘fundamentalist’ congregations (i.e., 1-to-3 on the spectrum) are ready to welcome the faint-hearted and unsettled from congregations (i.e., 8-to-9 on the spectrum) that might resolve to tear down the linguistic idols. (3) Not too many individuals seem to have the sense of urgency, the time, the energy, and/or the resources to follow through with tearing down the linguistic idols.

Re this spectrum -- I would argue (1) that the Jewish and Christian canons as well as orthodox Christian theology/liturgy well into the 19th century fell in the 1-to-4 range, (2) that the use and hearing of ‘God’ language as literally equivalent to the finite reference points were qualified when Platonic philosophy became the primary conceptual vehicle for expressing Christian thought in the patristic period, (3) that the separations along fundamentalist/modernist lines experienced throughout the ‘religious’ sphere by the early 20th century had in part to do with conflicting dispositions toward a methodological shift to a modern paradigm that accentuated the limitations on ‘God’ language, (4) that two communities of faith in which we have participated – i.e., a Congregational Church in Vermont and this Presbyterian Church USA in Nashville – fall in the 8-to-9 range on the spectrum and represent a very small number of congregations within the ‘religious’ sphere that are not a part of the orthodox coalition (again, to use a parliamentary analogy), and (5) that the ‘10’ end of the above spectrum (where I am) is not accepted/permitted within the ‘religious’ sphere.

My sense of urgency has for 25+ years now stemmed from the conclusion that the understanding of ‘God’ language heard within the ‘religious’ sphere (1) creates the painfully deep agony of the ‘scrapheap’ Jobs in life and (2) demands from those trying to be with the ‘scrapheap’ Jobs in life an allegiance to theological views and systems that discourage being truly/unconditionally present with the ‘scrapheap’ Jobs in life (e.g., the failure of every character as well as ‘God’ portrayed in the story of Job). Personal experience with and growing awareness of the depth/breadth of human misery/tragedy shattered the linguistic ‘idols’ common to the ‘religious’ sphere. This is a central reason the Letters and Papers Bonhoeffer remains so encouraging for me -- i.e., with the realization that the Nazi methods and successes had demonstrated the idolatrous nature of traditional ‘God’ language, Bonhoeffer in his secret prison correspondence with Eberhard Bethge was beginning to cross the threshold beyond which he had begun to see/k radically new approaches to ‘God’ language while surrounded by shattered linguistic ‘idols’ (analogous to the rubble to which Germany had been reduced).

Use (or do not use!) these thoughts as you will. Thank you for taking seriously my wanderings and searching. I look forward to our next opportunity to speak together.

Doug

A Non-Religious View of Dietrich Bonhoeffer #5

A ‘Non-religious’ Critique of ‘God’ Language - 2

3. After many years of careful observation/deliberation, I have come to the conclusion and, therefore, work off the premise that all ‘God’ language is morphic (e.g., anthopo-, socio-, cosmo-, . . .), though I remain open to and in search of exceptions. Nicolai Berdyaev (d. 1948) – an exiled Russian theologian whose writings I discovered in my early attempts to teach a current religious thought graduate course – added for me the ‘sociomorphic’ and ‘cosmomorphic’ categories to the more widely discussed ‘anthropomorphic’ category. ‘God’ language is morphic in that ‘God’ can only be conceptualized in terms of finite points of reference – i.e., human (e.g., “God said . . .” or “God saw . . .”), social (e.g., “God is king . . .” or “God shepherds . . .”), cosmological (e.g., “God looked down . . .” or “God caused the sun to stand still . . .”). A corollary to this premise is that ‘God’ language may have metaphorical, symbolic, parabolic, mythological, allegorical, existential, . . . meanings – but such meanings are clearly separate from making (or leaving unexamined) equivalent associations between ‘God’ and the finite point/s of reference. I think a statement such as “God is love” comes very near to being an exception to the premise that all ‘God’ language is morphic (‘near’ in that ‘is’ tugs even this statement back into the human sphere, unless “Love is God” is interchangeable with “God is love”).

But the following questions cannot be avoided except by discarding as insignificant the reminder about the limitations of ‘God’ language: Why “God is love” rather than hate? Why “God favors meekness” rather than power? Why “God favors peace” rather than war? Why “God is fair” rather than biased? Why “God is aligned with the vulnerable” rather than the strong? Why . . . ? A response to such questions that appeals to ‘revelation’ falls short (at least for me) because the phrase “God reveals/ed” is anthropomorphic. (Also, some parts of the Jewish and Christian canons speak of ‘God’ in terms of hate, power, war, bias, alignment with the strong, . . .) It seems to me that, re the above questions, individuals within the ‘religious’ sphere on the liberal end of the theological spectrum (with their emphasis on the consistent moral character of ‘God’) may struggle more than those on the fundamentalist end of the theological spectrum (with their emphasis on the sheer sovereignty of ‘God’, even if actions attributed to ‘God’ violate moral wisdom or conscience).

4. By regarding all ‘God’ language as morphic, I do not mean that such language is necessarily false or without force. Such language is (for me at least) false and without force if/when (1) the morphic nature of the language is disregarded and/or (2) the language would draw me back or away from the resolve to be the sort of person who can be truly present, without regard for theological or spiritual cost, with human beings who are experiencing the worst in life. This position raises a question as to the origin of the resolve. By committing to “for better or for worse” eighteen months before my first wife was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, I came to the test with this resolve in mind but with no sustained traumatic/extreme experience. As the months and then years passed (she died fourteen years later), any conditional (i.e., ‘if/since . . . , then . . .’) underpinnings to this resolve failed -- e.g., “be like ‘God’”, “imitate ‘Jesus’”, “apply the Golden Rule”, “mirror the Good Samaritan”, “be a good Boy Scout”, “please my parents”, . . . . But the resolve, instead of collapsing without the motivation of a mandate or an example, actually became clearer -- a consequence upon which I have reflected for many years now. Why did the resolve to remain truly present with my stricken wife not break down as/when the conditions upon which the resolve might have depended melted under the heat of indiscriminate inquiry combined with deep respect for those for whom life is tragic? I think it was because the day-to-day reality of chronic illness kept the decisions concrete. I had no time either to consider the decisions from an abstract/theoretical perspective or to experiment with other options. And the options were all variations on two themes – i.e., either to or not to remain fully present past the point of existential, spiritual, and theological risk/danger. Her illness – being ‘innocent’, random, and, therefore, not intentionally inflicted – made my finitude/vulnerability unavoidably clear. To have withdrawn to a safe distance from her would have been to adopt a way of being that would have imposed limits/conditions on every other human relationship. If I could not be unconditionally present with someone I had invited to trust me to be present “for better or for worse”, then I would not be so present with anyone else. The Ecclesiastes essay and the story of the ‘scrapheap’ Job were strategic for me at this point in making clear the profound damage to integrity that results when life is lived so as to remain at a safe distance from victims whose experience testifies to the breadth/depth of tragic suffering and discredits ‘God’ language that is used/heard as literally equivalent to the finite reference points.
5. I do not think or speak in terms of “knowing God” or “God answered my prayer” or “God led me” or “Jesus spoke to me” or . . . . The morphic nature of ‘God’ language keeps me from interpreting life experiences in these ways. (Having grown up within a fundamentalist thought-world that advocated a very non-experiential approach to spirituality, my reservations about the experiences claimed in these phrases do not represent a traumatic break with my upbringing on this point.) To/for me, experiencing intimacy or ‘oneness’ with another human being -- perhaps the greatest challenge in life -- is as profound or ultimate or sacred as experience is in this life and, therefore, as near as I come to experiencing ‘God’. I find something of this indirect and unintentional dynamic for experiencing ‘God’ in the surprised reaction of those commended in the Matthew 25:31-46 story. Among the several motivations to consider this experience of intimacy or ‘oneness’ with another human being as indirectly and, in a sense, indirectly or unconsciously experiencing ‘God’ is the need to protect those very special relationships from idolatry.

A Non-Religious View of Dietrich Bonhoeffer #4

A ‘Non-religious’ Critique of ‘God’ Language - 1

I prepared the following set of reflections in February 2000 for the senior pastor (‘Steve’) of a theologically and socially progressive Presbyterian Church USA congregation in Nashville my family and I attended (as regular guests, not as members) for two years (1999-2001). I found Steve to be very thoughtful. He had mastered the art of writing sermons to be heard. He and I met twice monthly for conversations we found mutually beneficial for testing our core ideas re spirituality and ethics. I prepared this set of reflections after a conversation in which Steve asked for my reactions to four presentations a recently retired Vanderbilt Divinity School faculty member had delivered the previous month to an adult discussion group on successive Sunday mornings. I was not previously familiar with the professor’s work/thought. His presentations centered on the absence of critical thinking in ‘popular religion’ (with ‘fundamentalism’ being the more extreme and potentially violent form of ‘popular religion’). He did not limit the scope of his presentations to Christianity. He spent considerable time in one of the presentations developing the premise that human language, if taken literally, cannot be used in reference to ‘God’ without falling short of the subject and, therefore, without being a linguistic form of idolatry. I did not have an occasion to speak at length with the professor. However, the conversations with Steve that precipitated this set of reflections created a valuable opportunity to test/refine my ‘non-religious’ thoughts about ‘God’ language.
________________

Steve:

. . . here is a summary of the ideas/propositions I submitted yesterday for your consideration re the four presentations on critical thinking, the limitations of ‘God’ language, ‘popular religion’/‘fundamentalism’:

1. I did not anticipate the Vanderbilt professor’s observation that the presentations were new for him and not derived, at least to some degree, from his publications or his Divinity School course materials. He said something like, “I am thinking these presentations out week by week”. I do not have sufficient familiarity with his publications or course materials to determine whether this observation referred to all or to parts of the four presentations. I understood him to say that linking ‘linguistic idolatry’ with ‘popular religion’/‘fundamentalism’ was a part of this “week by week” development of the presentations.

2. Other than perhaps the Ecclesiastes essay (minus that essay’s last paragraph, which I view as an editorial attachment) and especially the story of Job (considered from the ‘scrapheap’ Job’s perspective), I do not think the writers of or authoritative personalities in the Jewish and Christian canons promote the caution regarding the limitations of ‘God’ language that the Vanderbilt professor proposed to be a “facet of faith”. I am not suggesting that the writers/speakers in the Jewish and Christian canons failed to recognize the distinctions of poetry, story, fable, or parable. I am suggesting that, other than the two exceptions of the Ecclesiastes essay and the story of Job (especially chapters 3-31), the writers/speakers in the Jewish and Christian canons used ‘God’ language in the idolatrous way the Vanderbilt professor discussed. Yes, they appealed to ‘mystery’ in reference to ‘God’. However, that appeal strikes me as most often either (1) a reaction to power perceived as limitless or (2) a description of ‘God’ as unpredictable (to human wisdom) and/or not accountable to any moral law/criticism. Such an appeal to ‘mystery’ does not necessitate or, in the case of these writers/speakers, does not point to a radical and thorough realization that all ‘God’ language is morphic. At the very most, those who were sanctioned as prophetic in the Jewish and Christian canons repeatedly made the point that physical/tangible objects are too limited to be regarded as essentially ‘God’. However, the idolatrous use of ‘God’ language that the Vanderbilt professor has addressed and warned against (i.e., using/hearing ‘God’ language as literally equivalent to the finite point/s of reference) seems to me to have occurred unchallenged throughout the Jewish and Christian canons. Is the ’God’ language attributed to ‘Jesus’ in the four Gospels idolatrous? Do the roots of the ‘negative theology’ tradition in the late patristic period reach into Jewish and Christian scripture? Is the proposition “Jesus was God” (or other variations on ‘high Christology’) idolatrous? I suspect that ‘Jesus’ spoke of ‘God’ and heard ‘God’ language minus a radical and thorough realization that all ‘God’ language is morphic. This conclusion is one of many reasons my ‘Christology’ is below ‘low’. In contrast, the ‘Christologies’ of the orthodox coalition in Christian thought/history (to use a parliamentary analogy) is ‘high’ (and apparently cannot be too ‘high’, even to the point of virtually dismissing the humanness of ‘Jesus’).

Image #10

Remote Palestinian village . . . 2005 . . . near the mobile maternity clinic . . . out of reach . . . a metaphor? . . .

Image #9

Remote Palestinian village . . . 2006 . . . Israelie authorities do not allow permanent roofs . . . inside the medical relief shelter . . . the children run to find shoes when we arrive . . . no school . . . he will soon be a migrant worker . . .

Image #8

Bethlehem . . . 2004 . . . walking down the main street into the city away from the security checkpoint . . . Palestinian girl looks at me to my left . . . her eyes . . .

The ‘scrapheap Job’ -- #17

What does it mean for the name ‘God’ to be blessed (1:21)? I see one answer in the story/play’s prologue with the messengers cycling through the royal court with reports that end with accolades. This ‘blessing’ – which I have found to be characteristic of liturgies (e.g., hymns, prayers, sermons) within the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm – reminds me of the conniving daughters in King Lear. Such honoring does not accurately or honestly reflect the depth and breadth of human suffering.

Where, in the development of Jewish thought, does the pre/nonscientific cosmology (1:6ff) assumed in the Job story/play – e.g., angels, ‘God’ enthroned, an Accuser, celestial beings ‘checking things out on the earth’, ‘God’ causing or permitting things to happen on earth, . . . – become presupposed or taken for granted? According to this cosmology, how does ‘God’ know of the tragedies described in the prologue? Does the wording in the prologue suggest any divine empathy for the victims?

I would cast the prologue’s celestial scene with ‘God’ surrounded by an angelic host similar to an ancient royal court. Anyone entering a monarch’s presence had to be introduced and had to have some valid reason to intrude. The prologue’s celestial scene should be cast as a monarch receiving reports of the outcome of battles or as a medical school dean/department chair or as politicians (especially federal) (or perhaps as a Wizard of Id!). The point – the monarch and, therefore, ‘God’ have no intimate or direct familiarity with what is happening ‘below’. From the ‘scrap heap’, Job most often seems to be thinking, “If I could only get his attention . . .” or “If I could only get through the bureaucracy . . .” -- suggesting a ‘God’ analogous to Queen Elizabeth behind the scenes as the English Puritans were systematically contained/crushed all the while thinking the Queen above the bureaucracy was their ally. The whirlwind ‘God’ enters the story/play minus a royal court entourage and appears to have more immediate knowledge of happenings on earth (though there is no suggestion of interest in or empathy toward human suffering).

Was the Accuser’s counter argument that “a human would do anything to save his life” (2:4) an accepted truism in antiquity? Is it now? This proposition invites yet another spectrum. I suspect that the distribution of individuals would be weighted heavily toward the ‘do anything’ end. Medical decision-making in life-threatening situations is but one illuminating place to look for evidence. A demonstration of the validity of the Accuser’s assessment can also be seen clearly at the foreign policy level.

How does the Accuser’s proposition fit with the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm? Would ‘religious’ T/O paradigm theologies – centered by the eventual reduction of all life circumstances to divine will -- justify/encourage attempts by adherents to save their lives? No. For such would finally be seen as defiance and weak faith.

The answers individuals give to “What is more important than saving my life?” reveal each one’s character/integrity. The person (nation) for whom saving one’s life trumps all other considerations is very self-centered, ready to manipulate/exploit all others to achieve his/her end.

What could Job do to save his life? The counsel/pressure the ‘scrap heap Job’ receives from his three close friends reinforces the Accuser’s proposition – even to the point of their knowingly counseling/pressuring him to violate his integrity. They press him to embrace the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm, to fall prostrate before ‘God’ begging for mercy (e.g., 8:5). Elihu presses him to respond to his plight as an opportunity for spiritual refinement intended by ‘God’. The whirlwind ‘God’ humiliates the ‘scrap heap Job’ without addressing his plight.

How should today’s medical/surgical interventions be written into the story/play?

What would the riddle of ‘Jesus’ – i.e., find your life by losing your life – add to the story/play?

Re the intent of Job’s three close friends, Peterson has -- “ . . . to keep company and comfort him” (2:11). Another possibility permitted by the Hebrew wording would be – “to show grief or mourn and to comfort or console”.

Later in the story/play, the ‘scrap heap Job’ speaks of ‘God’ as having no manners (e.g., ‘God’ “snatches”). The prologue makes it no surprise that the ‘scrap heap Job’ would draw this conclusion. I do not think the behavior of ‘God’ (all concepts of ‘God’ in the story/play) can be excused with -- “His ways are not our ways”.