Creed Question - No, Not Apollo

Remiss.  I get it.  If I told you I've been meeting with people to actually write a book would you forgive me? 
------------------------------------------
Read the Apostles Creed (page 30 in McGrath) and the Nicene Creed (it can be found on many online sites). They represent rare times when the entire church got together (representatively) and agreed on such a statement of belief. Do you think it is appropriate to accept them as the yardstick by which Christianity is defined? Why or why not? What would you add or delete?

----------------------------------------------

The Apostles Creed is a good and sound summary of Christian doctrine and very similar in wording to the Nicene Creed.  They both share the quality of outlining the basic tenets of the Church.  The word creed stems from the Latin “credo” which means “I believe” and emulates the purpose of both statements:  to express the beliefs of the faith in a succinct and structured manner.  To that end, regardless of the creed which is used, both serve the same purpose of pronouncing belief in the faith of the Church.

However, when the creeds originated, there were not nearly the number of divisions and denominations as there are today so I’m not entirely certain we can (or should) say as a blanket statement that “the entire Church is in agreement.”  Is the “entire Church” the same in its entirety as it was then?  Not even close. Much like the Constitution has not changed in wording since it was originally penned yet many, many individuals no longer hold to what it decrees, I feel some may argue this correlation with regard to the Apostles Creed/Nicene Creed.  That aside, both creeds absolutely can and should be utilized as the yardstick by which Christianity…at its basic premise…can be measured.

At first blush, I have always been inclined to want to remove “the holy Catholic church”; however, upon further investigation and thought, my original inclination is what should actually be removed.  The “holy Catholic church” does not refer to the Roman Catholic Church as we know it today.  The word catholic used here means “universal.”  The true “catholic” church is all those who have placed their faith in Jesus for salvation, thus both defining and unifying Christians and further cementing the acceptance of the creed(s) as an appropriate definition.  The unified Church and body of believers is where all those who are stirred by the Holy Spirit and are faithful to God come together in sacred community.  The Church is ‘catholic’ because it is all-embracing; it is not “an enclave within a profane godless world, but rather the movement, initiated by God, to communicate perfect salvation to all nations.”[1]  It is ‘holy’ when it is imbued and sanctified by the Holy Spirit.

Therefore, while I would not delete anything from the creed(s), I do think it is worth considering what has been left out, and that is, Jesus’ ministry.  There is no mention of His work or teachings in the world and instead moves straight from birth to death.  I believe it is The Liberation Theologians who made kind of a big deal about this omission.  Their view is that it leaves out the most radical and prevailing components in the life of Jesus, which has extensive (mostly political) relevance for the poor and marginalized today, as well as how we grasp what discipleship entails.  Perhaps one sentence or reference to Christian praxis would be a welcome and compelling addition to both creeds.

You will buy the book, right?  (Yeah...I'll change names...no worries, you.  Or, (ew) you.  And...definitely not Y-O-U.)

---

[1] Urs von Balthasar, Hans. Credo: Meditations on the Apostles Creed. New York, Crossroads, 1990. p.84.

Why Not All Professors Are Made Alike

This class has me realizing that when I teach as an adjunct once in a while, those students are loving me.  Sure, I may have known they thought I was a pushover when during the first break someone starting vaping ("But it's Birthday Cake"..."Um, what?!?").  I need to crack the whip.  Step on a crack...break your momma's back...Wait, no.  Zip it, Devo.  I have another paper to write.

So Mr. not-at-all-like-the-last-professor actually responds to our posts with not only feedback but more questions.  My head hurts, my stomach is empty and my To-Do-List has zero checkmarks on it.

But check this - a response to his response.  And now I pray that this thing is ov-uh.

__________________________________

Thoughtful post, Beth. You bring up some important points. While Jesus gave us the power, and even responsibility, to bind and loose, and while each generation is responsible to do that anew I wonder how much latitude we are given. We look at the Crusaders and wonder how they we able to use the scripture to justify such bloodshed. And then there are other groups who interpret the same body of scripture to demand absolute pacifism. How much are we allowed to "appropriate" on our own? Do we merely weigh our own "billions of particulars"? How much weight should we give the "billions of particulars" of previous generations, or of others with completely different experiences and worldview from our own? How do you think we navigate all of that?

____________________________________

Prayerfully!  These are such great and stirring questions, age-old and yet, almost completely unsolvable.  Navigation through such potentially treacherous terrain sans direction inevitably leads us up even more slippery slopes as, viewing the landscape only through our own "billions of particulars"-made lenses, we fail to take both history and God's Word into account.  It is crucial and wise to utilize them in conjunction with our life experiences, as they are not mutually exclusive.  God’s Word trumps all, in my opinion, but much like David still respected Saul (and handled his death properly and respectfully), he absolutely knew Saul was trying to kill him and reacted accordingly.  The respect for his king still remained, but he also watched his own back simultaneously based on the history of one of his billions of particular events.

How much God allows us to appropriate on our own goes right to the heart of free will and Calvinism vs. Arminianism and is at times, a conundrum to be sure.  I find plausibility with this potential:  Our human minds think of free will and God’s plans as an either/or choice.  We live in a 100% reality…but maybe it’s a 200% reality and it’s actually a both/and choice.  Since God transcends our reality and lives outside space and time as we know it, perhaps there is a way in which appropriation is occurring at the same time as His plan.  To me, it’s always a “God can do anything” answer, including “mask” our choices to serve His greater good (plan) but allowing us to think (or otherwise, as in they are real, actual) those choices were still made by us.

Week 1, Assignment 2

Watch the video below.
In the video, Marty argues that the spiritual environment we grow up in gives us a "language and palate" for faith, but it has to be appropriated--it has to become our own. He goes on to argue that our faith is constantly reshaped by "billions of particulars" and "51/49s."  Do you believe that is true for generations as well? Does each generation take the faith handed down to it and "appropriate it"? Shape it? Make it their own? Give an example from your reading in The Christian World that supports your claim.

Video

 

 

As Marty says in the video, “appropriating” our faith is synonymous with “making it our own.”  Thus, absolutely it holds true that our faith is constantly reshaped by “billions of particulars,” i.e. our individual conglomeration of life experiences.  And so it is also true generationally.  Each generation takes faith which is not only handed down, but expected, discussed or even dreamt based upon its own unique worldview at the time.

 

I’m quite certain that my grandparents would have been completely out of sorts if they walked into any number of contemporary church settings today, with the casual attire, piercings, tattoos, and what!?  Even bass guitars.  For their generation was one of organs, three-piece suits and cufflinks, and always the same routine and setting.  While they worshipped the same God and gave thanks to His same Son, the manner in which they participated was vastly different – based upon their own appropriations of faith which stemmed from their own unique spiritual environment.

I could not concur more with what Marty replied when asked how he came into his faith: “gradually.”  A gradual realization of any concept is what has the most staying power, grabs the strongest foothold, and cements our rock-solid belief system, even in the midst of future storms which threaten to flood our minds with differing, new-age opinions.  I believe that is why Marty used the example of “the highs and lows of adolescence” and “death and remarriage” – against the backdrop of such character shaping life events is when the most faith appropriation occurs.

As Marty says, “The Western European church was not devoid of theology during the era of the Crusades and intra-European holy wars.”[1]  I can’t even imagine any more “theological” a time period in the scrim of war.  Many Catholics today would argue that this is still the greatest time of religion and theology in the history of its church.  Every individual was enmeshed in the situation of the time and each formed their own unique appropriation of faith from it.  It could not be escaped.  Yet, according to Marty, “while many theologians were concerned with the teaching of original sin or the sacraments, most important and revealing was the Western church’s revisiting of the themes about Jesus Christ that had first been formulated in Asia in the fourth and fifth centuries.”[2]  He goes on to say that they had to deal with “left-over” issues and they did.

So while the Crusaders had their own appropriations given the world around them in which they lived, they also were dealing with prior belief systems handed down to them from prior generations, most notably and unresolved point amongst the councils at Nicaea and Chalcedon of how Jesus could be both man and God.[3] 

It is no different for us today.  We have each appropriated our faith based on our gradual accumulation of “billions of particulars” while, at the same time, questioning certain key points which arise from others sharing the same time and space in this generation.  To that end, I would say that we are all purposeful, active, and timely participants partaking in the big picture at the hand of our sovereign artist.

---

[1] Marty, Martin.  The Christian World, A Global History. Page 97. New York:  Modern Library, 2009.

[2] Marty, Martin.  The Christian World, A Global History. Pages 97-98. New York:  Modern Library, 2009.

[3] Marty, Martin.  The Christian World, A Global History. Page 98. New York:  Modern Library, 2009.

Classtime!

Where did the Holidays go, anyone know?  Last week was rough, but this week has been proving itself to be brutal.  I think the difference is we were sort of all in the collective fog of wishing we were still lounging around in front of the fire drinking wine and wearing exactly what we had slept in all day while binge watching Netflix.  And last week, as we pretended to be super gung-ho about being back in adult-land we could at least still talk about it with one another.  But not this week.  This week is real production.  Send wine and Friday, please.

As you guys know, the Romans class ended before Christmas (um, yep - that professor did not have Parkinson's and thus inadvertently give me a minus after the solid A...happy for him x 2).  There was  a bit of a break in theological study, but not in praying  [Side note: never in praying - see 1 Thess.5:16-18] as one of our family members, one of our running buddies, and so freaking many others that we and you know were diagnosed with cancer.  Again. 

I just read yesterday in fact, that 25-year old former Butler Bball player, Andrew Smith, died of leukemia.  Enough already.  Cancer, we are not your fan.  But we do live in a very broken world, which is why it is imperative that we live for the One who is not of this world so someday this will all seem like a really, really long warm-up...an arduous and sometimes seemingly never-ending practice that kicks our collective ass.

Honestly, it took me a lot of years, a lot of hardships, and a lot of kicking and screaming before I finally went to Him and decided to be an active player.  Best decision ever.

And so, here it is - the second class has officially begun.  History of Christian Thought.  New professor, new classmates, excellent topic.  From what I can tell, there will be less writing and more...thinking.  The first assignment was clearly just breaking us in for what is yet to come.  I'll post the rest as they are due throughout the course. 
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Summarize your thoughts on one of the theological perspectives you will be discussing in your History of Personal Theology Reflection paper (this should help you clarify your thinking for your paper). Tell us about the influences that helped that perspective become a part of your belief system.
Read your classmates posts and respond to at least two of them. What did you see that was similar to the way you came to your beliefs? What was different? How does their experience and response to it affect your thinking?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Having been raised Catholic, I always had such a difficult time with the concept of sin and repentance.  I hail from a long-line of Italian (and Irish) Catholics, and the generational pride was evident at each and every holiday gathering.  So to question whether we were “being Catholic correctly” would have gotten me both excommunicated from the family and also devoid of any homemade pasta.  Therefore, I learned very quickly to bottle up all the self-imposed and Mass-confirmed guilt, which did me no favors when it came to understanding the exact level of undiminished forgiveness God offers. 

The Catholic Church indirectly taught erroneously that some sins were worse that others; thus, leading immature Christians to conclude that certain sins might not be forgiven.  I was further under this impression since the number of “prayer penalties” which were doled out varied from week to week, dependent upon (or so I thought) how bad the thing you did actually was – in comparison to your friends.  I clearly remember walking back to our catechism class whispering the inevitable “How many Our Father’s did you get?” question to my best friend, trying to discern if God was angrier at her or me.  I found my religious upbringing to be a very loving and very scary proposition all in one fell swoop.

Both my grandmothers were fantastic influences when it came to faith.  They had a deep-seated and unwavering belief that everything would always be alright, because God would see to it that was the case.  They each modeled prayer (always with Rosary Beads in hand); however, there was never any familial praying other than the obligatory pre-dinner blessing.  I never knew how to pray, let alone how to ask for forgiveness.  And I was certainly never taught that if we confessed our sins, God is faithful and just to forgive them and cleanse us from all unrighteousness (1 John 1:9).

And so it went on, this vicious cycle of sinning (sometimes even on purpose as those teenage years beg for us to do) followed by a less than heartfelt “confession” in church every Sunday when the light above the booth turned green, signaling that the other sinner was done recounting their list of “oops’s” and had received their resultant prayer tally. 

I was always so fearful not only of what I had done in the last seven days, but that God would also give me extra punishment because He knew that I wasn’t exactly telling the truth in the confessional.  It was unfair!  Not only was I unable to fully cease sinning, but then I had to sin again by talking about it?  Was God testing me?  Was He trying to make me prove how much I believed, how much I loved Him?  The whole concept left me numb.  I was empty, left to flail around aimlessly like a bird with one wing. 

That is, until I actually decided to read Scripture.  How about THAT concept? 

While my heritage and church upbringing provided me an unbelievable sense of community, tradition and belonging, nothing has shone more light on the way in which God forgives us than His Word itself.  God tells us that we need not do anything to be saved.  Salvation is a gift from Him (Eph. 2:8) and He blesses us and forgives our sins (Romans 4:7-8).

James tell us that if we confess our sins to one another and pray for one another, we may be healed (James 5:16).  I give thanks that I have been healed from early misconceptions about God, and continue to thirst for an intimate knowledge of and relationship with Him.