I’ve been enjoying a book by the Irish Catholic priest Diarmuid O’Murchu called Evolutionary Faith: Rediscovering God in our Great Story (Orbis: 2002).
O’Murchu is an innovative mystic with a poet’s heart. Neither his theology nor his science are very orthodox. He kind of picks and chooses what he likes from both. Of course, if we’re honest, every single one of us would have to admit that we do the same.
More inspiring than informative, this book has really had my wheels turning lately. I’m going to start posting some fascinating snippets on this blog. I really don’t care if you’re not impressed with him (I’m not always) or if you don’t agree with him (I don’t always). He’s introduced me to some new ideas and authors that are quite fun and interesting.
Think of this as the jungle-gym on the playground of ideas. The following is from the book (p.2-3):
My Evolutionary Creed
I believe in the creative energy of the divine, erupting with unimaginable exuberance, transforming the seething vacuum into a whirlwind of zest and flow.
I believe in the divine imprint as it manifests itself in swirling vortexes and particle formations, birthing forth atoms and galaxies.
I believe in the providential outburst of supernovas and in the absorbing potential of black holes.
I believe in the gift of agelessness, those billions of formative aeons in which the paradox of creation and destruction unfolds into the shapes and patterns of the observable universe.
I believe in the holy energy that begot material form and biological life in ancient bacterial forms and in the amazing array of living creatures.
I believe in the incarnation of the divine in the human soul, initially activated in Africa over four million years ago.
I believe in the “I Am Who I Am,” uttered across the aeons, pulsating incessantly throughout the whole of creation and begetting possibilities that the human mind can only vaguely imagine at this time.
As a beneficiary of the Christian tradition, I believe in the power of the new reign of God, embodied and proclaimed in the life of Jesus and offered unconditionally for the liberation of all life-forms.
Last summer, I also enjoyed reading Prayers to an Evolutionary God (Skylight Paths: 2004), a daily devotional by William Cleary based on Evolutionary Faith. You can order both books on Amazon.com by clicking on the image:
You know you’re a real Internet Heretic Superstar when you get requests for interviews.
But I don’t think it counts when it comes from your former roommate (shades of Spaceballs: “I am your father’s brother’s nephew’s cousin’s former roommate“).
This particular request came from Brian Kingbird, who I bunked with during my Freshman year at Appalachian State. Our conversation is part of Brian’s ordination process in the United Methodist Church. Send him your best thoughts, prayers, vibes, and/or small animal sacrifices (I’ll donate one of my cats if you don’t want to use your own).
As I was typing my answers, my only intent was to be honest. When I was done, my answers surprised me. This year, I’ve come to new levels of honesty with myself over just how far I’ve traveled from the theological territory where I started my journey. I remember shaking my head at people like me only ten years ago. Now, I’ve become “that guy”.
Anyway, here’s what I wrote:
How has your relationship with God developed over your lifetime?
Life with God, for me, has been a long and meandering process of evolution. I use the term evolution deliberately, despite the controversy surrounding its use in church. One of the core principles of evolution (in the biological sense) is the emergence of life from death. Organisms pass on their DNA to future generations and further the growth and development of species. In the spiritual sense, the concept of evolution bears striking resemblance to the way of the cross, as described by Jesus. Out of his death, new life was born. He taught his followers to follow him in this respect. Jesus says, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” In another place he says, “Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” New life is born out of death and it is as I follow the way of the cross that I discover an ongoing resurrection taking place within me. This continual path of death and resurrection has led me into, between, and through several different corners of the Christian world: from evangelicalism to the charismatic movement, the Episcopal priesthood, and most recently to congregational ministry in a Presbyterian church.
I also find that many of my own thoughts and opinions about theology, morality, and spirituality have undergone a similar process of evolution over time. There has been death and resurrection there as well. For example, I never could have imagined in high school or college that I would one day have a ministry as a chaplain to the gay and lesbian community. God has led me to become a spiritual companion to people who have been exiled from their churches of origin because of their sexual orientation. Being an advocate for their equal rights has become a major part of my work as a pastor. This particular aspect of my ministry has brought me into no small amount of conflict with many in the church who believe the Bible speaks clearly about homosexuality as sinful.
For me, my faith in Jesus, Christianity, and Bible has brought me to a place where grace trumps legalism and intelligent faith trumps blind faith. I am comfortable with ideas like same-sex marriage and the theory of evolution. I value the blessings of interfaith dialogue and fully expect to encounter many faithful non-Christians in the kingdom of heaven. Rather than a move away from Christian faith, these developments have arisen out of my ongoing attempt to take Jesus, Christianity, and the Bible seriously. I am continually and pleasantly surprised to find that Christianity still has much inspiration and guidance to offer me as I move into ideological territory that would have been unthinkable for me only a few years ago. I go forward into the future, trying to stay open-minded, and fully expecting to be surprised at what God has in store for me as my faith continues to evolve.
How does being Christian affect your daily life?
If I had a favorite Bible verse, it would be 1 John 4:16: “God is love and those who live in love live in God, and God lives in them.” These words provide me with ample fuel for spiritual and ethical meditation. What it says to me is that God is not some distant and all-powerful authority figure who sits on some golden throne above the clouds in an alternate dimension. Instead, God is a mysterious and loving presence who can be experienced here, on this earth and in this life. If I want to serve God, I can only do so by loving my fellow human beings. Anywhere there is love, there is God, regardless of whether the name of God is verbally spoken or not. As Jesus told his followers in Matthew 25: “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.” I love the baptismal vows in the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer, where the new Christian pledges to “seek and serve Christ in all persons” and “strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being”. At the end of every Sunday service, I charge my congregation with these words from the Presbyterian Book of Common Worship: “Go out into the world in peace; have courage; hold on to what is good; return no one evil for evil; strengthen the fainthearted; support the weak, and help the suffering; honor all people; love and serve the Lord, rejoicing in the power of the Holy Spirit.” For me, this is what it means to be a Christian in my daily life.
How are you in (your) ministry in the world?
My “ministry in the world” is largely shaped by the principles outlined in the previous question. I find that working as a pastor is the easiest way for me to live out that universal Christian calling. Specifically, I am interested in ministries of social justice and mercy: alleviating the effects of poverty and eliminating the causes of poverty. I try to nurture relationships with those who exist outside the bounds of institutional religion. I have already mentioned my work with the gay and lesbian community. Another issue close to my heart is homelessness. I spent several years of my life during and after seminary working with people on the street who struggle with hunger, illness, and addiction. My first job was to be a faithful friend and my second job was to provide assistance where possible. Sometimes, this would lead to conversations about religion and spirituality. Sometimes, people would start coming to my church or seek a more active and conscious relationship with God. I was always open about my faith and inviting people into Christian community, but I am careful to never make conversion a prerequisite for relationship or assistance. My hope is that others will see Christ in me as I try to “seek and serve” Christ in them.
I am also passionate about the liturgical aspect of my ministry. The nurture of the church’s ministry through Word and Sacrament is, in my mind, what makes us uniquely Christian. I try to help people open the Bible for themselves and listen for inspiration and guidance from the Holy Spirit through its pages. I lead a weekly Bible study using the lectio divina method of simultaneous prayer and reading. I am also an advocate for more regular celebrations of the sacrament of the Eucharist (also known as the Lord’s Supper or Holy Communion) in our church. I believe that Christ is truly present in this mystery, feeding and empowering the people of God with his very self. As we come to recognize Christ’s presence in these physical elements, I believe we will be more able to recognize Christ’s presence in the rest of the world. The meaning of this sacrament is quite simple and can be taught in a single Sunday school lesson, but the regular and frequent experience of this sacrament opens us up to ever deepening levels of truth and spiritual reality. In essence, Communion is caught, not taught.
What (do you think) are the gifts of discipleship?
There are two ways I might answer that question. First, I could understand “the gifts of discipleship” to be gifts given by the Holy Spirit to empower us in our daily Christian living. On the other hand, I could see “the gifts of discipleship” as the blessings that arise from the process of being Christ’s disciple. For the sake of brevity, clarity, and simplicity, I will choose to take the second meaning as the one I will keep in mind as I answer the question. The primary blessing that I receive in my life as a disciple is a growing sense of connectedness. I love that the Latin word religion literally means “to re-connect”. Through Christ, I re-connect with God, myself, my neighbors, and creation. Paraphrasing the words of theologian Paul Tillich, sin is separation from these things (God/self/neighbor/creation). Through grace, I am reconnected with them. I honor God’s grace by passing it on in deeds of love and mercy. Grace becomes an experienced reality of connectedness and restored relationship.
What are the challenges (to your ministry), if any?
In a general sense, the biggest challenges to my ministry come from my own ego and selfish failings. The phone rings with one more person needing assistance or another annoying drunk person who wants to spend all day chatting. I get so busy with sermon writing and bulletin printing that I ignore my daughter’s pleas for attention. I exhaust myself at work to the point where I take no time to care for myself with proper food and rest.
On a more specific level, my most recent ministry challenges have to do with the specific issues that arise within congregational ministry. In the first two years after my ordination as an Episcopal priest, I worked as a chaplain. There was a constantly changing stream of people who came through my office seeking help. This is the first time that I’ve worked with a larger organization with long-term members. I am also more involved in practical administration and daily leadership. This requires that I develop a new set of skills and nurture deeper and more long-term relationships with the people under my care. It’s a new challenge for me, but a welcome one.
We read this morning from the story of creation in the book of Genesis. This is one of the most familiar (and controversial) texts in the entire Bible. It’s often used as a wedge and a weapon by those who would try to set up science and faith as mutually exclusive categories of knowledge.
Some say that this is a literal and historical account of what actually happened during the first week of existence for the universe (which they take to have happened about six thousand years ago). These folks often have witty bumper stickers that say things like, “The Bible says it, I believe it, and that settles it” or “The Big Bang Theory: God spoke and BANG, it happened”.
On the other hand, there are those who say that this story is nothing more than an ancient legend made up by people who didn’t have the benefit of modern science at their disposal. These days, they say, this story is useful only as a cultural artifact. It should be studied in the same way that Greek mythology is studied: without regard for its truth or relevance to contemporary life.
So then, are these our only two options for understanding this text? Do we reject, on the one hand, the findings of the scientific community as the deceptions of Satan or the product of secular humanist conspiracy? Or, on the other hand, do we throw out the Bible as an ancient relic, abandoning it to be used and abused by ignorant bigots, like those who once believed that the earth is flat?
Or is there a third option? Is there some way for us to lower our mental buckets into this well and bring up gallons of living water? Can this text serve as a source of divine truth for us, even if we don’t accept it as literally and historically factual? I think there is.
Let’s start by looking at the text itself. You’ll notice that there is a lot of repetition going on. “And God said, ‘Let there be… and God saw that it was good… and there was evening and there was morning, the [#] day.” This happens over and over again, so much that you start to expect it. There is a kind of natural rhythm to this passage. Tell me, where else do you find rhythm and repetition in language? In poetry! This text reads like a poem.
What’s even more interesting is how the ideas and images in this poem develop as we read on. Let’s look at the first six days of creation and the creatures that emerge on each day. To make it easier to understand, we’re going to divide the days into two groups that stand side by side: days 1-3 and days 4-6.
On the first day, God creates light and darkness itself. Parallel this with the fourth day, when God creates the sun, moon, and stars (i.e. those objects (beings) that dwell in the light and darkness of day and night). On the second day, God separates the sky and the water. Then look at the fifth day, when God creates birds and fish (i.e. the life-forms that live in the sky and water). On the third day, God calls forth the land and vegetation from the sea. Match this up with the sixth day, when God makes land animals and humans, whose job it is to care for the rest of creation.
On days 1-3, God creates a particular environment and then fills each environment with inhabitants on days 4-6, leaving human beings in charge of the whole thing. Then, on the seventh day, God takes a break. For this reason, the text tells us, every seventh day is set apart as sacred. On this day, people are called to rest from their work and reflect on the goodness of God’s creation.
“Okay Barrett,” you might say, “it’s a nice poem, but what does it mean? Why are these words and ideas laid out in the way they are?” In order to answer that question, it would make sense to look at who wrote this poem, where and when it was written, and why they wrote it.
The problem is that we don’t exactly know the who, where, when, and why of this poem’s author. Unlike modern writers, authors in the ancient world didn’t exactly sign and date their material. And, as any teacher will tell you, it’s almost impossible to figure out who wrote a nameless and dateless paper, even when you know it was written in the last week! Imagine trying to do it with a paper that’s several thousand years old! Forget about it!
Biblical scholars have spent years trying to solve this mystery. Their best guess is that this poem was probably written by a Jewish person sometime during the sixth century B.C. Jews at that time were living in exile, working as slaves in the country of Babylon. The Babylonians had conquered the holy land and dragged many of the people off to work for them elsewhere. Removing people from their land was a common strategy used by the Babylonians to break people’s spirits and keep them submissive. The Jews living and working in Babylon huddled together in sorrow for their lost home. All around them, their Babylonian bosses made them feel like they were less than human. They treated God’s people like machines or property. They made fun of Jewish culture and religion.
“You God is so weak,” they said, “our god, Marduk, was able to beat yours in battle. That’s why you’re our slaves now. Why don’t you give up worshiping your pitiful little God and worship ours instead?”
Well, the Jews didn’t listen to that talk. They got together and, once a week, these Jewish slaves went on strike. They refused to work. They huddled together to sing, pray, and tell stories. They celebrated their faith and culture. This is the Sabbath day.
On the Sabbath the Jews said to the Babylonians, “You might be in charge (for now) but you don’t own us. We belong to our God, who made heaven and earth.” That’s where scholars think this poem came from. The sun, moon, and animals were all different gods to the Babylonians. They worshiped them and made all kinds of sacrifices, but the Jews said, “Those aren’t gods! The sun and moon are just lights in the sky. The animals were made by our God and given to us to care for.” Rather than bowing down, the Jewish people stood up to preserve their dignity and celebrate their faith that, one day, their one true God would free them from slavery and bring them home again, just like God once did with Moses in Egypt. In the meantime, the Jews kept going on strike once a week. They kept meeting together to worship. “We’re not your property,” they said, “We’re God’s people.”
So this poem becomes a celebration of faith, hope, and human dignity in the face of chaos, destruction, and oppression. The poem opens with the image of a dark and stormy ocean. Nothing but a “formless void”, but God is there. God is speaking. And God is making something good out of this mess!
In the same way, you and I live in a dark and chaotic world. The society around us laughs at our faith. It would be so easy to become frightened or cynical. Maybe we’re not exactly slaves, like the Jews were under the Babylonians, but we often get treated like we’re less than human. Government bureaucracy treats us like cattle, shuffling us around and identifying us by our Social Security Number. Corporate advertising calls us “consumers” and tells us that our only value as human beings comes from how much money we have to spend.
“It’s a dog-eat-dog world,” they say, “you’ve got to take whatever you can get or somebody else will!”
Can we, as people of faith, find the courage to stand up and say no to that?
Like the ancient Jews, you and I already gather here once a week to sing, pray, and tell stories like this one. When you come here, you’re reminding yourself that you are more than just a consumer or constituent. You are a child of God. You have inherent dignity as a human being. You matter.
That’s a message that the world around you will try to drown out, if it can. It will try to swallow up your soul in that ocean of darkness and chaos.
The power of faith is the power to resist that fear and cynicism. It’s the power of hope. It’s the power of human dignity. It’s the power to celebrate the goodness of creation. It’s the power to say that our God is more real than the false gods of consumerism and ideology. The power of faith is the power to say, “God is making something good out of this mess!”
Do you believe that? Can you see in your life what the ancient Jews saw in this passage? The truth in this text has little to do with how the universe began, whether it was thousands or billions of years ago. It has everything to do with how you look at the universe today. Are you a faith-full or a faith-less person? My prayer is that God would open your heart in the midst of this life’s “formless void”, so full of darkness and chaos, and that you would somehow sense the mystery of God’s presence saying to you, “Let there be light.”
Hopping Hadrian's Wall 