Christianity's Unique Claim - Richard R. Crocker

Christianity’s Unique Claim

Richard R. Crocker

First Congregational Church, Lebanon, NH

May 22, 2011

Acts7:55-60 and John 14:1-14

          We have before us today two familiar but still puzzling texts that are important for us, as Christians, to understand. The first is the account, in the books of Acts, of the stoning of Stephen, whom we all know, probably as the first Christian martyr. He was stoned by people who were offended by his preaching. This should be a warning to any preacher that it can be a dangerous occupation. Truly. Now why should this be? Why should proclaiming the love of God be dangerous? Could it be that the love of God is really an unpopular, dangerous idea? – and that many of us prefer to hear about God’s wrath?

          Now, people are killed, more often than we like to notice, for having unpopular beliefs. And unpopular beliefs are more likely to be beliefs that call for change in the way we think and act. Resistance to those who call for change is the default position of the human race, and this is understandable, because not all change is good. It is often seen as safer to stay with the tried and true. But if we had stayed with the tried and true, we would still be driving horse and buggies, as the Amish do.

          It is important for us Christians to understand that many people, in his own day, saw Jesus as an innovator, a progressive, one improperly respectful of tradition, custom, and law. Indeed, his crucifixion occurred because he challenged the status quo. Stephen was stoned because he also challenged the status quo. We must remember that Christianity was basically a challenge to the status quo, until it itself became the status quo. It is probably fair to say that today many people identify the Christian church as a conservative cultural force rather than a progressive one.  Even protestant Christians rarely protest (stand for) anything; they seem to be against more things than they are for.

          With that background, I’d like to move to the gospel lesson, which is at once a passage of great comfort to many Christians, and a passage that is very challenging, even upsetting, to others. I refer, of course, to these wonderful verses from the gospel of John, where Jesus assures his disciples of the reality of eternal life with him. That is the comforting part. But those comforting words are followed by other often quoted words “I am the way and the truth and the life; no one comes to the Father but by me” - a verse that has been used to reinforce a view of Christian exclusiveness that many people, in our pluralistic world, find a stumbling block. I’d like to explore this tension in a little more depth to see if we can understand these words more meaningfully.

But first, we will have to begin with a little bible study that many of you will find very elementary, but others will find very helpful. Since the custom or habit of Bible reading has largely evaporated in our culture, I am assuming for this exercise that many of you know really nothing about the Bible. Others may know much more. Please forgive me if I have misjudged where you are.

          Perhaps it would help if you all took out the pew bibles and turn to the front, to page ___, to the table of contents. You will notice that the Bible is divided into two parts – the Old Testament, which is the literature of ancient Israel, and the New Testament, which are the documents of early Christianity. These parts together constitute the Christian Bible, which many of us describe as the word of God. By this most of us mean that it is where we find out about God. It does not mean, for most of us, that every single word in this book is equally holy. Taken as a whole, the Bible has, for many generations, taught people about the most important relationship: the relationship between human beings and their creator.

          Now, look at the New Testament. The first four books are Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. These are the four gospels – gospel being a word that means good news. These four books are narratives, or stories, about the life and teachings, death and resurrection of Jesus. Each of them tells that story in a different way. They were written by different people, in different places, at different times, and for different churches, and for different purposes.  But when we study these four gospels, we notice that the first three – Matthew Mark, and Luke – are very much alike. Despite differences, they seem to tell the story in pretty much the same order. Mark has no stories about the birth of Jesus, Luke has an extensive story. So there are differences, but these gospels actually use many of the same words. Stories about Jesus that appear in one are likely to appear in at least one of the others. We call these the synoptic gospels – synoptic meaning “read together”. They cover much of the same grounds in much of the same way.  With the gospel of John, however, things are quite different. Not only does it tell the story in a very different way, but it arranges events in a different order. And, most importantly, while the synoptic gospels often tell short stories, with short sayings of Jesus, John’s gospel contains long discourses.  Thus, the passage we read today form John is part of a very long discourse that Jesus gives on the night of his betrayal. We have the impression that the way Jesus talks in John is just very different from the way he talks in the synoptic gospels. In John’s gospel, Jesus often seems to talk more like a Greek philosopher than a Hebrew prophet.

          Now these similarities and differences have been the subject of study for generations. It is not important today that we do much more than acknowledge those differences. It’s important to note that this gospel passage is not in the other gospels. It is part of a way of speaking that Jesus employs only in John. It is beautiful, but also difficult.

          So, these are beautiful words of comfort: “Let not your hearts be troubled. You believe in God, believe also in me. In my father’s house are many mansions. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?” I am sure that many of you know these words by heart. You have heard them many times – most often at funerals.

These words are followed by a question from Thomas, always, in John’s gospel, the one who asks questions, the one who doubts: “Lord, we don’t know where you are going. How can we know the way?” This is when Jesus utters the words that have become the hallmark for evangelical Christians: “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”

Now, these words of Jesus have been used by many people as a way of exclusion. If you do not “believe in Jesus”, if you have not had a certain kind of religious experience, if you have not “accepted Jesus as your personal savior” in a prescribed way, then there is no hope for you. So the saying gets turned inside out. The words that Jesus intended, I believe, as words of inclusion become words of exclusion.

How can they be words of inclusion? Well, listen to Philip’s puzzled response to them. Phillip said: “Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.” This leads Jesus to tell Peter that if he hasn’t seen the father in Jesus, then he has been missing the boat, because “I am in the Father and the Father is in me.” In other words, to see Jesus, to live with him, to hear his words, is to know God, the Father. Jesus is God’s revelation in human form. This is the unique claim that stands at the heart of the Christian gospel. We believe that we know God because we know Jesus.

Now these are universal words, but they are not exclusive words. Here is how I think we should understand them. We as human beings cannot know what God is like. We are incapable of it, unless God somehow shows us. All of us yearn for God, but we do not know God except through revelation. Revelation has come to us through the law, which is a gift of God that allows us to live together in peace and respect. But the law itself does not fully show us who God is. Only God incarnate in a human being – and not just any human being, but a human being who dramatically exemplifies sacrificial love, shows us what God is like. And the only way to God is through God’s own sacrificial love, shown to us in Jesus. Does that mean that every person, to know God, must “believe in Jesus”?  In some way, yes. Unless we know that we all were created in and for love, we have no sense of eternal life. To know God is to know that God’s love is unconditional, accepting, and sacrificial. But it does not mean that everyone must recite a certain formula, or agree about every issue, or perform certain rituals.

When I think about this, I think about Gandhi, the great Hindu of our time, who was very interested in the teachings of Jesus. He is reputed to have said the words printed at the top of your bulletin. “I like your Christ; I do not like your Christians.”

          Too often the Christian witness has not been one that draws people to Christ, but drives people away from Christ. That is a challenge to us, isn’t it?

I saw a very disturbing and sobering statistic a two years ago, during the debate about torture. According to the research I read, the best predictor of whether or not a person favored the use of torture was whether or not the person attended church. The more they attended church, especially “evangelical churches”, the more likely they favored torture. (articles.cnn.com/2009-04-30/US/religion.torture)

If this statistic is true, it makes us ask: do we really believe that Jesus is the way and the truth and the life? Do we understand the love of God? Or do we really prefer the wrath of God, directed, we trust, mainly toward other people? How would we really live if we believed the gospel?

          Well, we are all here today. Aren’t we? The end of the world didn’t come yesterday, with the favored few being saved and the many being destroyed. Apparently God’s continuing mercy is a disappointment to many Christians.

Many people today argue that all religions are basically the same. Christians – especially conservative Christians – take offense at this and insist that Christianity has a unique claim – that Jesus is the only way, the only truth, and the only life, and that it is our job to make people believe that. They are partly correct. Christianity does have a unique claim. But it isn’t a claim that God’s love is conditional upon our adopting or repeating a certain creedal formula. Rather, its unique claim is that, in Jesus, God has shown us the way of unconditional love, acceptance, forgiveness, and hope. Not just some of us, but all of us.  And what is required of us? After all, Jesus said: “repent and believe the gospel.” What must we believe? Simply that God loves us all. Of what must we repent? Believing that God doesn’t love us all. It’s that simple. Why is that so hard for us to believe?

Loving God - Loving The Other

You're all most welcome, and we'll check back in next week with Reflections...

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Loving God - Loving the Other.

A dialogue with Christian Theologian Miroslav Volf
and Muslim Scholar Ingrid Mattson.
   
Wed. 2/16        4:30pm - 6pm    Rockefeller 3
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Leading scholars Miroslav Volf (Yale University) and Ingrid Mattson (Hartford
Seminary) explore how we thoughtfully engage with other religions grounded in
the particulars of our religious commitments.

Free and open to the public. sponsored by The William Jewett Tucker Foundation,
The Waterman Institute, al-Nur Muslim Students Association, and the Dartmouth
Centers Forum's "Speak Out, Listen Up".

Are all religions the same? - Richard R. Crocker

Are all religions the same?
Rollins Chapel
Richard R. Crocker
November 10, 2010
Exodus 20:1-4 and Amos 5:21-24

Are all religions the same? While some people might say yes, the correct answer is no. Look around. Some religions believe in one transcendent God. Others believe in many, or none. Some believe in reincarnation. Others do not. Some believe in dietary restrictions, others do not. Obviously, all religions are not the same.

I think everyone knows this. But I think that people who argue that all religions are the same would say that they are all the same in some important way, despite their relatively unimportant differences. I think that is also not true. So why would anyone say that it is true? Because they want it to be true. Many of us are embarrassed by the particularity of our religion, especially if that particularity includes the assertion that other religions are wrong. So we try to minimize the differences and maximize common concerns. As a strategy for civil dialogue, this is good. But, in religions, as in most other areas of life, the differences are often the most interesting things, and the most important things, about us.

Consider the analogy of language. Language is the closest thing to faith. Faith is how we conceive of meaning. Language is how we express it. Language, in fact, may not simply express our deepest perceptions, but shape them. So, let us ask, just for interest, whether all languages are the same. Obviously, they are not. If they were, translation would be easy and a computer could easily do it. But, as anyone who has tried to translate literature knows, translation is very difficult. Some meanings in one language are simply absent in another.

I stand before you as a person who has studied and passed competency tests in Latin, Greek, Hebrew, French, and German. I also stand before you as a person who cannot really use or understand any of those languages. I can only really express myself in the language that has shaped my mind – English. I also stand before you as a person who has had some instruction in Buddhism, Judaism, Islam, as well as various kinds of Christianity. But I am only fluent in Christianity – and then only in one dialect.

I don’t think this analogy is misplaced. All languages are not the same, but they all have a common purpose: they help us to create and express our thoughts, by which we seek to comprehend the world. Religions have a similar nature. They are not all alike, but they do all have a similar purpose, which is to help us create, express, and comprehend the meaning of our existence.

So if all religions have a common purpose, doesn’t that mean they are all the same? Not at all. They are different. Every religion in some way is concerned with helping us conceive and relate to what is ultimate, but they have very different concepts of what is ultimate. That is why I absolutely reject the trite metaphor that religions are all paths up the same mountain. They are different paths up different mountains, I think. Not every religion is, for example, a path up Mount Sinai, where Moses received the ten commandments – the first two of which we read today, and which seem to imply an exclusive view of the ultimate that cannot easily be turned into relativism., Yet when we look at the prophet Amos, who spoke from that tradition, we encounter a person who, speaking in the name of God, declares that God despises rituals and solemn assemblies. What God requires instead is justice.

Well, then, can’t we all agree that while religious rituals might be different, they are all concerned with justice? No. Conceptions of justice, too, are very different – even among people of the same religion. For some, justice demands eternal punishment as well as eternal bliss. For others, justice requires capital punishment for adultery. For others, such ideas are abhorrent. There is no way to bring us all together under the umbrella of justice.

But let us not despair. Even though all religions are not the same, even though there are very different pathways and very different mountains, there is yet an important commonality. All of them are concerned with what is ultimate. And though all of them conceive of and describe the ultimate in different ways, there can still be conversation – conversations in which we learn and grow.

Conversations. So we are back to language. As I told you, I have studied many languages but feel competent only in English. All other languages require a dictionary and a lot of time. But conversations between people of different languages can happen. They require effort and preparation and study, but they can happen. We can learn to appreciate, even if we cannot fully speak, another language, and to find its peculiar concepts interesting and meaningful. Some people may even become so at home in another language that they come to prefer it – one can even say they converted to it. But most of us continue to feel most comfortable with the language we learned as children, even though our vocabularies continue to grow. It is how we make sense of the world.

I know that you are now asking: isn’t he really saying that it doesn’t matter which language you speak? Isn’t he really saying that it doesn’t matter which religion you practice – because it’s a matter of what you learned? To a degree, I am saying that. It’s hard – but not impossible - to truly adopt another language or another religion. But in another sense, I am not saying that. Different religions promote different virtues, different rituals, different understandings. This is another way of saying that they can produce different fruits. If there is any important practical difference in religions, it is known, as Amos said, not in its different rituals, or even in its different theologies, but in the fruits it produces in its followers. That is why it is so sad when people look at Christianity, expecting to find the love and compassion it preaches, and find instead violence and oppression. An honest look at the fruits of our own faith should cause us all to be humble. Humility is the prerequisite of all learning.

Espousing Faith

 - and why it is hard to talk about.

Religion is something that we embrace, or do not embrace. Certainly our religious options are defined and shaped by our experience, but the decision to embrace (which connotes love) and practice a particular faith is finally a matter of choice, reflecting our deepest loyalties, convictions, and affections. It is difficult, sometimes, to speak about these deepest convictions in a way that seems "objective". We all do have reasons for espousing, or not espousing (note again the love/marital metaphor), but they are often as hard to state or explain or defend as our choice of a marital partner. Similarly, when someone criticizes our faith -- if it is indeed a vital faith to us -- the criticism seems deeply personal - almost as if someone criticized our spouse. This emotional content makes discussion difficult. But it also makes it important. For, unlike race or gender or age, we always live with the fact that we can change our faith, and with the reality that our faith does grow, change, or disappear over time. Discussion contributes to that process. Therefore it is potentially dangerous, as well as potentially enriching. - Richard Crocker

Race, Sex, and Religion

In the wake of struggles within our community involving religious identity (e.g.) we are forced to examine why our capacity to talk about religion and religious diversity seems to lag behind our discussions of race, sex and gender on college campuses.  This is not to say, of course, that we have progressed perfectly on other aspects of the diversity conversation, nor that we aren't working successfully to promote thoughtful conversations about faith.  But I do think our capacity to publicly discuss faith, religion and spirituality in religiously diverse settings could be far better, and has yet to develop at the rate of other discussions of diversity.

Indeed, Dartmouth students frequently ask about this, and groups like the Interfaith Youth Core have made it their mission to "bring religion into the diversity conversation."

There are, of course, unique challenges and situations which we must acknowledge on this front -

First, religion is for many (though certainly not all) a category of identity which is not immediately visible.  We are able (and quite willing) in many cases to keep our sense of faith and religious self private when we're conversing in secular and public spaces.  This is neither good, nor bad.  But it allows us to largely ignore religious difference should we choose to.

Second, in terms of the history of this (and many) institutions, we've seen an explicit and intentional shift from a Christian to a secular institution.  As I've said before, I have high hopes for what "secular" could mean in terms of leveling the playing field for diverse religious and non-religious voices.  However, in practice, I think our "secular" identity leads to lack of willingness - or at least lack of practice - in discussing matters of belief and deep, personal conviction.

Third, I think those who have worked, especially in racial diversity, have done an admirable job of developing the sense that building support for specific racial and ethnic groups benefit the knowledge awareness and ultimately education of us all, regardless of our own racial or cultural identity.  I don't think anyone would argue a similar notion has developed amongst different religious groups.  We are perhaps too quick to turn to claims of exclusive truth, but they certainly exist.

Finally, is the sense that race and sex are accidents of our birth, while religion is a choice.  Or, as one commenter put it, racism and sexism are worse than religious discrimination because "you are attacking someone for something that's not their fault."  Indeed, I would hope that we are free to choose our religious paths, in ways we can't choose other forms of identity.

All that being said, I think we have significant opportunity to do better, and serious reason to do so.  I won't repeat myself on secularism, except to say that my perpetual hope is that a secular culture is one in which we're allowed and encouraged to dialogue about not only that which is measurable, but also about the various beliefs and convictions that shape and form us.

I don't doubt that we will struggle to discuss competing claims to ultimate truth.  But I do think we can enter into such conversations with a level of humility and desire for learning.  From childhood to old-age, the oldest religious sages to fresh-faced students, we are called - people of many religious contexts - to seek after a truth and ultimacy that we will never fully grasp.  And with this spirit, I would hope that conversing with people of other views and contexts would shape us and ground us better in our own traditions.  We must truly an sincerely ask ourselves if what it means to be the best Christian, Jew, Muslim, or Buddhist is to be surrounded by only like-minded members of our own faith.  Or, does it mean being grounded enough that we can meaningfully discuss things of significance with people who are different from us.

Finally, on the question of choice (or fault), I would simply say that while I would agree that religion is a choice, that doesn't mean it doesn't matter, or that we ought not learn how to respectfully and thoughtfully dialogue with others (religious and not).  Indeed, I would argue that we are all shaped by beliefs (about God or goodness, or human community, or education...) and that these beliefs are tremendously important to who we are.  In large part because we can choose them.  And when we don't bring them into conversation, we miss a tremendous opportunity to discover more about ourselves, more about others, and more about how we can bring our beliefs to bear on the troubles of the world.