Diversity at OBU: Theology

Welcome back, and a glorious Easter Monday to you all.

I hope you have enjoyed our Easter break and theological diversion and that you have had a chance to think on this most wonderful weekend in the liturgical year, along with the mystery and symbolism which accompanies it.

Easter is my favorite holiday of the year and I certainly enjoyed reading Jacob's take on it.

This week I was planning on looking at diversity at OBU. Although I had originally wanted to begin with racial diversity, Jacob's Easter posts got me thinking about another kind of diversity. Specifically, what is the theological diversity at OBU?

This, I can only speculate on-- I haven't looked at any stats (and I don't think those are the kind of stats that people publish), but I did spend four years at OBU studying and talking about theology, so I can tell you a little bit of what I saw.

Most people at OBU think very similarly when it comes to theology-- and that's ok and probably expected. After all, it's a baptist school in a conservative state. It's not strange that most people both come into and leave OBU thinking like a typical conservative evangelical about what God and the bible are like.

Some issues will be pretty divided: gender roles. Some issues will gain a small following: open theism, rejecting inerrancy. Every now and then there will be one student who sees the resurrection or virgin birth as a metaphor. I had a theology teacher who said he once received an ethics paper arguing that prostitution should be allowed. So, you never know what is going to come out of a twenty-something, every now and then.

But here's what I want to focus on: how are those dissenting students treated? How was Jacob treated in the comments on his Easter posts? And how did I feel by the time I left OBU?

Granted, I'm going to be to the left of most people at OBU, but to the right on the spectrum generally. Comparing my theology to what is generally believed at OBU and at my new mainline seminary, I would probably agree much more often with those at OBU. But I feel much more accepted in the world of mainline protestantism because it is acceptable there to figure out your own theology.

But shouldn't the tradition which affirms so strongly the priesthood of the believer be the place where it is acceptable to seek after God for one's self? And shouldn't a place that affirms that all truth is God's truth be unafraid of open inquiry? Especially into such important issues of doctrine?

But instead OBU tends towards the authoritarian-- if you disagree with x, y, or z, we're pretty sure you're not even a Christian.

Those brave enough to question are so often cast out as unacceptable.

Where does this attitude come from? And what ties need to be broken before students can be accepted and encouraged to think deeply about the most important issues in their lives instead of policed?

The Highest Holy Day

Alleluia Alleluia Alleluia!


The strife is o'er, the battle done
The victory of life is won
The song of of triumph hath begun: Alleluia!


The powers of death have done their worst
But Christ their legions hath dispersed
Let shouts of holy joy outburst: Alleluia!


The three sad days are quickly sped
He rises glorious from the dead
All glory to our risen Head: Alleluia!


He closed the yawning gates of Hell
The bars from heaven's high portals fell
Let hymns of praise his triumphs tell: Alleluia!


Lord, by the stripes which wounded thee
From death's dread sting thy servants free
That we may live and sing to thee: Alleluia!


Alleluia Alleluia Alleluia!

The hymn, translated from Latin by Francis Pott and set to the tune VICTORY by Giovanni de Palestrina, was performed in the video by the choir, organ, and congregation of the incomparable Washington National Cathedral, a true flagship cathedral of liturgical Christianity and of American Protestantism.

This is the fourth in a series on Holy Week.  See previous posts for Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Holy Saturday.

Easter is a wonderful day.  The idea behind it is so tempting, hopeful, and powerful: the triumph of life over death and light over darkness.  For many years when I was younger, I often felt sad and guilty celebrating Easter.  It was a glorious day, but there was one problem: I didn't believe in the literal, historical truth of the central miracle Easter proclaims: that God raised Jesus from the dead.  Don't blame my parents or Sunday school teachers.  I have no doubt that they dutifully taught me the Easter story.  They also taught me that a large white rabbit brought me (and every kid) a basket of candy and colored eggs.  If my belief in the historicity of the resurrection lasted longer than my belief in the Easter Bunny, it wasn't by much.  But I quickly and adeptly perceived which Easter miracle it was socially acceptable for a nice Methodist boy to admit his skepticism about.  From then on, I kept my mouth shut and tried to do what (in the words of Rev. Dr. Robin Meyers of Mayflower United Church of Christ in Oklahoma City) most Christians do: "Believe things they know aren't true in order to get rewards they doubt are even available."

To my great relief, I learned in college that there were, in fact, many strands of the Christian tradition that viewed the Bible's more unlikely stories through an interpretive lens that emphasized the meaning of the stories and the thrust of the entire biblical witness over the literal truth of a few supernatural phenomena.  Now, let me be clear: OBU was not one of those liberal-minded places.  Never has been, never will be, and that's fine.  But for me, just knowing that there might actually be some version of Protestantism that I could believe honestly and with integrity was a tremendous relief.  It provided some very thrilling intellectual and spiritual experiences for me that would propel me through college, graduate school, and a church vocation.

There are a lot of places you can go today to hear some guy's opinion about the meaning of Easter, so I'll spare you mine.  But I really do hope you will grapple with the hard issue that our eggs, baskets, bunnies, pastel clothes, and family dinners (my grandmother always made lamb) make it easy for us to dodge: most pastors and churches are asking you to believe something you may know in your heart is false.  And on that belief hangs plenty of other divine magic tricks of suspect historical validity, an entire theology based on the logic of scapegoating and the efficacy of slaughtered animal blood for situating people on the right side of God's wrath, and the implication that assent to all this is what ultimately defines whether you are "in" or "out" with respect to the church, God, and your own salvation and eternal destiny.

I would just like to submit for your consideration that Easter is about something more than what happened to Jesus' molecules.  Most of you will disagree, and that's fine.  I'm not trying to change your mind about whatever you believe.  But I do hope you will be fearlessly honest with yourself about what you actually believe and why.  (Surprising numbers of people, including born-again Christians, believe in ghosts, witches, UFOs, astrology, and reincarnation.)  Most people will concede that Jonah didn't really get eaten by a fish.  A smaller number will admit that Jesus' mother's pregnancy was started in the usual way.  But only a few will admit that, even though Jesus clearly was special/inspired/enlightened/divine, his molecules were not.  Once you come to terms with that realization, you will have crossed the Rubicon of faith.  It may be unpleasant to tell your pastor/mother/friends.  But on the other side awaits a life of faith that is more honest, searching, challenging, compelling, and meaningful.

A lot of people are concerned that there is a "slippery slope" between orthodoxy and atheism, as this 1922 cartoon depicts.  I would argue that the reverse is true.  If they can get you to believe one impossible, outlandish thing, they can get you to believe anything.  You'll have to stop caring what others think of your beliefs.  It's difficult at first but trust me, it gets easier.  During all those years I believed Easter was primarily about a divine magic trick, I never grasped the fullness of its true meaning.  I was so consumed by the obvious and overwhelming cognitive dissonance and distracted by the eggs, bunnies, pastel-colored ties, and lamb dinners.

Now, free from the burden of trying or pretending to believe in something I know isn't true, I have been able to approach Easter (and its truly glorious art, music, and liturgy) with an unmatched sense of wonder and excitement.  On Friday, I briefly discussed my reservations about the doctrine of penal substitutionary atonement.  That idea necessarily restricts one's view of the resurrection, whereas other theologies of atonement such as Moral Influence or Christus Victor (which the hymn above so beautifully expresses) emphasize the Resurrection more prominently.  I happen to believe that resurrection is literally a metaphor.  We celebrate Easter in the Spring of the year when the whole earth is experiencing a resurrection.  The azaleas, lilies, hydrangeas -- insert your favorite spring foliage and flowers here -- emerge from the cold ground and remind us that life triumphs over death.  The lengthening days following the spring equinox (after which the day is literally longer than the night) remind us of the triumph of light over darkness.  Whatever you believe happened to Jesus' molecules, I hope the grandeur, glory, majesty, and mystery of Easter fills you with joy and wonder today and always.

This I wish for you with all my heart.

Jacob Lupfer
Easter 2012
jlupfer [at] gmail.com

Holy Saturday

As I mentioned Thursday, we're taking a break from discussing policy and personnel changes that hinder academic freedom and quality at OBU.  In honor of Holy Week, I offered a personal reflection and have tried to point to different parts of the Christian liturgical and theological traditions that might be compelling and meaningful to people.  Today, with the Last Supper and the Crucifixion behind us, Jesus is in the tomb.

Holy Saturday
Observances of Holy Saturday vary widely throughout the Christian world.  In Roman Catholicism, there is no Mass in the liturgy for this day, and the availability of the Sacraments is limited to those who are sick and dying.  Protestant observances (except for Anglicans, Lutherans, and some Methodists) are, as far as I know, relatively rare.  Church Easter egg hunts are quite popular, however.  In my opinion, churches should not encroach on Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny's turf.  But I'm just a no-fun old fart.  And my bride is expecting our first child any day now, so I'll probably be singing a different tune next year, taking my toddling daughter to every Easter egg hunt in town.

Anyway, where Holy Saturday is observed, many of the atmospherics of Good Friday services continue.  The chancel area is stripped bare: no flowers, colors, paraments, banners, etc.  There is little, if any, music.  And, for the love of God, don't project PowerPoint slides!

In Eastern Orthodox traditions, Holy Saturday is a big deal.  It is known as the Great Sabbath, for it is the day Christ "rested" in the tomb.  Many Orthodox traditions celebrate the Divine Liturgy of Saint Basil on this day, which is the longest of the year.  Oftentimes, the service includes the reading of up to 20 Old Testament passages recounting the history of salvation.  In the afternoon, the Acts of the Apostles is read in its entirety.  Later in the evening, the whole congregation gathers around 11:30 p.m. After the liturgy is completed, all the candles are extinguished and congregants wait in silence for the proclamation of the resurrection at midnight: Χριστός ἀνέστη! ("Christ is risen!")

I have never attended a service on Holy Saturday.  If you have, I'd love to hear about it in the comments.

Easter Vigils
Because the liturgical day begins at sunset of the previous day, the Easter Vigil is an Easter service, and the first time the Resurrection is celebrated.

Most Catholic and some Protestant churches hold Easter vigils late at night on Holy Saturday.  Such services are affirmed from very ancient sources.  But they fell out of favor with Protestants until recent decades, when some traditions (especially Anglican and Lutheran) renewed their use.  In Catholicism and the Orthodox Churches, these services feature orders of Christian Initiation, where converts and new members are baptized.  It is also the first time since Holy Thursday that the Eucharist is celebrated. It is also the first time since the beginning of Lent that the Gloria section of the Mass is used.

Where this service is celebrated in Protestantism (again, I don't think it's very common except among Anglicans and Lutherans), the format is similar: there is the Service of Light and the Liturgy of the Word.  The readings recall the Hebrews' crossing of the Red Sea because Christians see Christ's passing over from death to life as the fulfillment of the Jewish Passover.  Other readins include the 118th Psalm and Romans 6:3-11, after which the Alleluia is sung and the gospel of resurrection is proclaimed (Matthew 28:1-10, Mark 16:1-8, or Luke 24:1-12).

--

In general, I think that by ignoring Holy Saturday, we miss an opportunity for a very meaningful observance that is crucial to the entire Passion narrative.  But we have to hunt for eggs, I guess.  Here are some notes on Holy Saturday from the denomination I know best, The United Methodist Church.  Interestingly, their Book of Worship provides a Holy Saturday service, though no congregation I've ever been affiliated with has ever observed it.  With this, I will bid you farewell until tomorrow.

Peace be with you.

Good Friday is the most agonizing service of the Christian year.

Holy Saturday is the most contemplative.

On this day, as no other, we are invited into the most profound silence of the life of God, whose Son, "of one being with the Father," lay buried in a tomb. That is what we can perceive from this side of Easter. From the other side, at services later tonight or tomorrow, we will celebrate how Christ preached to those in captivity and broke Hell's chains forever. But for this service, we speak from the emptiness of death as we know it and as the very Being of God experienced it.

We hear from Job, who had no hope for a future beyond this life and could not understand how God could allow such suffering to befall humans.

We join the prayers of the Psalmist that God may yet be our refuge in the face of danger and death.

We are confronted by the preaching of Peter, reminded that this emptiness and suffering are essential for a disciplined life of prayer.

We hear of the burial of Jesus and the political attempts to silence his followers, attempts that seemed likely to succeed.

And we are silent. Around all the hearing and the praying, we are silent. We join God's silence, the silence of creation, the silence of death.

And from that silence, we offer our prayers for the church and the world with the prayer Jesus taught us. And then, to silence we return to contemplate the mystery of the death of our Lord until the celebration of his Passover begins.

Good Friday

A good Friday to all of you.  I guess it's easy to call it a good day since we're not the ones being brutally executed.  This is the second post in our four-part Holy Week series.  Yesterday's Holy Thursday post is here.

Personally, I have a hard time with Good Friday services for some of the same reasons I struggle with some Advent services: I don't care for the way the prophetic texts are applied/interpreted.  One of my very favorite services is the Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols, broadcast every Christmas Eve on BBC Radio from the Chapel of King's College.  It's absolutely beautiful.  But it grates on me that the prophetic texts are interpreted as being relevant to the birth of Christ.  I have the same qualms about certain elements of Good Friday services.

But the biggest difficulty Good Friday poses for me is how to find meaning in this holy day outside the context of the doctrine of substitutionary atonement, which I don't believe in.  Most people, however, do believe in this idea.  Or at least they say they do.  And from that flows a whole system of what I consider unsatisfying theology.  Dissent from that idea and you'll quickly find yourself on the outside of almost any church or religious community.  One of the best books I've ever read on this subject is Saved From Sacrifice: A Theology of the Cross.  The author, Rev. Dr. S. Mark Heim, is a professor at Andover-Newton School of Theology, a joint American Baptist/UCC seminary.  I strongly encourage you to read it if you consider yourself a believing Christian but you have qualms about prevailing views of atonement.

A lot of church people point out that you'd have no Easter Sunday without Good Friday.  Yet, for a number of practical and emotional reasons, most people skip Good Friday observances.  Every year, millions of people crowd into churches on Easter having given no thought to Jesus' crucifixion a few days before.  This includes not just twice-a-year churchgoers, but also a significant number of people who think of themselves as very mature Christians.  Personally, I think they would do well to immerse themselves more fully in the liturgy, music, and ritual of Good Friday observances.

In Catholicism, it is a fast day, but not a holy day of obligation.  Still, Catholics fill churches and cathedrals around the world to observe Good Friday.  Here's an interesting (and I would assume unauthorized) clip from a papal service at St. Peter's Basilica in Rome two years ago.  I did not see His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI, but you can see the cardinals processing in and kissing the feet of Jesus.  The music is Palestrina's setting of the Popule meus.

A lot of Protestant observances include the Seven Last Words of Christ (scriptural citations quoting Jesus' utterances during his crucifixion).  Even in relatively "high church" traditions, the starkness of the service is meant to be arresting: no colors, no paraments, little if any musical accompaniment to hymns and solos, etc.

Here's a moving rendition of the old spiritual "Were You There When They Crucified My Lord."

A lot of art and icons present Christ alone on the cross.  Of course, many of these are moving and beautiful.  I also like the images that depict the others present at the crucifixion.  Here is Raphael's Descent from the Cross.