The Mirror of the Pharisees (Part 2)

In John 3:1-3, there’s a famous passage that many people recognize.
It says this:

“Now there was a Pharisee, a man named Nicodemus who was a member of the Jewish ruling council. He came to Jesus at night and said, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God. For no one could perform the signs you are doing if God were not with him.” Jesus replied, “Very truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God unless they are born again.”

Nicodemus was a Pharisee, and the Pharisees are often poorly understood as mere legalists, bigots, or hypocrites. While there is some truth to this stereotype, Pharisees were respected by most as sincere religious leaders who truly worked to empower the people. As New Testament scholar Dr. Scot McKnight has noted, the Pharisees were “democratizers” in the sense that they tried to make the Torah (Old Testament Law) practicable for all people, by interpreting and applying it. They had a strong emphasis on “doing” the law.

Pharisees opposed people who had different interpretations and practices of the Torah. This led them into conflict with John the Baptist, Jesus and his followers, and with others who differed from them (like the Sadducees). They thought they were right in their interpretations, which gives us some insight to the passage above—Nicodemus, a highly respected elder, talks with Jesus and is confounded (vs. 4) after Jesus tells him he must be “born again," or "born from above." Nicodemus had started the conversation claiming that he understood who Jesus was, and that he knew God must be with him. In other words, he was claiming to "see," but Jesus tells him that no one can "see" the kingdom of God without being born again.

Thinking about how confident the Pharisees were in their understanding makes me think not only of over-confident religious leaders today, but also of the general over-confidence and certainty displayed in our cultural dialogue around social and political hot topics. Just observe how people talk about coronavirus, mask-wearing, confederate flags, NASCAR, sports team logos, racism, statues, police, election year, mail-in voting… you name it—we all seem to be experts. We’re so confident in the narratives we believe about these things that we argue and fight to show how right we are and how wrong “they” are. It just recycles and furthers our division. It gets us nowhere.

As Luke Skywalker told Emperor Palpatine in Episode 6, "Your overconfidence is your weakness..."

What is fascinating about this passage in John 3, is that Jesus is calling Nicodemus (a very well educated and wise person) to a new level of consciousness, one guided by the Spirit. I’m sure Nicodemus had boatloads of evidence and well-crafted arguments for his views. He could have backed everything he believed with chapter and verse from the Torah. Yet Jesus is inviting him to a whole different way of seeing and knowing (vs. 3), a way that is compared to the wind blowing “wherever it pleases” (vs. 8). One can understand the confusion Nicodemus felt (vs. 9). I'm guessing the language of wind blowing "wherever it pleases" sounded a little less reliable than the rock solid theological and philosophical arguments he had learned to rely on.

We often feel threatened when our views are challenged, because we've invested ourselves in them and our identities are wrapped up in how right we are. So if our identity feels threatened we’re immediately defensive and we often stop listening to anyone who disagrees with us. Wisdom, however, teaches us that we never stop learning, and that means we keep listening, growing, and changing—unless, of course, we are so self-assured that we get to a point where we can’t really learn anymore, and just focus on defending what we already think. But that's probably when we stop listening to Truth.

Nicodemus ended up learning from, and ultimately following Jesus (see John 19:39). I have no doubt that came at a great cost to him. He may have lost his status as a great teacher among his peers, some of his family and friends, his income, and perhaps other things. He had to become like a child again, ready to relearn everything he thought he knew. He had to take the posture of a listener and a learner, rather than an expert. Yet, he could have easily been too self-assured to listen, clinging to what he already believed and had long defended. After all, he was "Israel's teacher" (vs. 10).

Imagine the change that could happen to our culture if we had the humility to listen, become like children, and change like Nicodemus. What if we held the things we are so sure about with an open hand, not wrapping our identity up inside of our political or religious beliefs, as if they defined who we are, but having the posture of a curious learner/student? That is, after all, the definition of a disciple. Does a learner/student who listens to the Spirit (which blows wherever it pleases) sound like someone who spends all their time defending what they already believe?

The Pharisees spent a lot of time opposing people with different views, but Nicodemus found that whole way of doing things to be sorely lacking after he met Jesus. Maybe, if we became like curious children, we would find ourselves being born into a new way of seeing.

Reflections on Losing a Beloved Pet

I've had a lot of pets in my life.

The first one I ever had, and also the first one I ever lost, was my cat Boots. We lost him when I was just a young kid. I remember my dad telling us after we had finished dinner, that our neighbor had found him after he had been missing for several days. We all cried at the table.

Since then, I've had multiple hamsters, a box turtle, some bugs, several guinea pigs, a few fish, another cat, and a couple dogs. Most of these pets weren't all that special, and therefore not that big of a loss. But my wife and I have had our two dogs since early into our marriage, and our 4 kids have not known life without them. But one of our beloved dogs, Diesel, developed kidney disease and had to be put down today as his suffering and quality of life were getting pretty bad. 

Diesel was a special dog to us. We got him at the animal shelter about 11 years ago, after he had been abandoned somewhere in a field. He was a mix of dachshund and something else, and he was absolutely terrified when I first met him and brought him home. I don't know that he ever really recovered from being left in the field, as he behaved like a scavenging survivor all the years we had him. He would regularly look to steal food from our other dog, from the kids, off the table if he could reach it--anywhere, really. He just seemed to always be afraid he wouldn't have enough. And it's not like he didn't get enough to eat--we had to put him on a diet more than once, after he had eaten his way to looking like a plump sausage with little stubby legs.

He was known for his "guilty" look. He always looked like he was hiding something, like he had done something wrong and he knew it. It always made us laugh, because he rarely looked like he was able to relax. If you said his name, even in a gentle and loving way, he'd never make direct eye contact. Poor thing... he just never felt totally safe I guess.

And he was quite the wuss when it came to thunderstorms or loud noises, and he never wanted to stay outside. He'd often run to his kennel or to the couch when we told him it was time to go out and go potty. Then if you came to physically pick him up and take him outside, he'd flip over on his back and submit, but if you got too close he'd sprinkler pee everywhere. Usually, that was a no win situation and we just let him be for a few minutes so we didn't get pee on everything.

But he ended up becoming the most friendly, gentle, harmless dog you can imagine. He'd snuggle with you on the couch, always being careful not to disturb you too much. He really liked laying around a lot, especially as he got older. I think he was always deeply afraid, but we loved him a lot. We'll miss you, Diesel. Maybe in dog heaven, you can finally relax.

Grace in the Darkness

Feeling down today?

Here, let me read you a positive, encouraging word from the scriptures:

The Psalmist declares:

“I am overwhelmed with troubles and my life draws near to death. I am counted among those who go down to the pit; I am like one without strength. I am set apart with the dead, like the slain who lie in the grave, whom you remember no more, who are cut off from your care. You have put me in the lowest pit, in the darkest depths…

…Why, Lord, do you reject me and hide your face from me?… You have taken from me friend and neighbor— darkness is my closest friend.” 

-(Psalm 88:3-6, 14, 18)

This whole Psalm is one big Debbie Downer... Waaah, Waaaaaahhh!!!

It just ends like that, with no hope: 

“Darkness is my closest friend."

Uh... what? Why is this in the Bible? Is that supposed to encourage me?

Actually, I am really glad that there are scriptures like this in the Bible because it validates the experience of so many people who find themselves in a dark night of the soul.

Christians who experience this often feel deep shame and fear, and don’t feel safe talking about it. Why? Because we've often been trained to interpret this experience with the belief that we are somehow blowing it, that God is perhaps punishing us, and that if we were really spiritual, we wouldn’t have such experiences but would always be full of joy and charisma, always feel close to God, always have a positive "I can do it!" mentality, etc.

Strangely, particularly in the Protestant tradition, we have often eliminated the suffering and loneliness of the cross from our expected spiritual journey, so that we end up feeling guilty and surprised when it comes to us (see 1 Peter 4:12, 1 John 3:13). Triumphalist theology combined with an idealistic success narrative creates a mindset that doesn't have room for darkness or weakness, unless it's a mild kind that you can quickly fix.

Serving in the roles of pastor and chaplain, I’ve heard countless stories over the years of people who have walked through a dark night of the soul—sometimes lasting years— and felt terrifying doubts, wondered if God even exists, even walked away from faith because of it. I have been through a significant dark night myself, and I can say I understand why people walk away.

But the experience wouldn't be such a crisis if more people would admit that it's part of their journey, and that it's normal--even expected--that such times will come.

What’s so powerful about the scriptures is that they are so relatable to all the experiences of being human. A hopeless lament Psalm like this one shows that even if we experience such things, we are not outside the graces of God. For God’s grace does not depend on our ability to always perceive it, but on the character of who God is.

I read a few years ago that there are teeny, tiny particles of light that basically fill the entire universe, called neutrinos. They have almost no mass and no electric charge, and are very hard to pin down—sometimes called “ghost particles.” But even the deepest, darkest, emptiest space in the universe is filled with them.

If you hold your hand up to the sun for 1 second, a billion of them will pass through your hand. It’s this totally unperceived reality, yet it is everywhere. 

That’s the grace of God in Psalm 88.

I hope that encourages you, that whether or not you can perceive God’s goodness and grace in this moment, he promised to never leave or forsake us, and to be with us even to the end of the age.

You are never alone and never forsaken. Walk by faith, not by sight, because you can trust the Grace in the darkness.

The Mirror of the Pharisees (Part 1)

One of the more startling realizations for me over my years as a pastor/teacher of the Christian scriptures, is how much I have unknowingly behaved and thought like the Pharisees and religious leaders who lived in the days of Jesus.

The default of myself over the years (and dare I say, many others) has been to automatically assume that I "see" the truth because I'm a Christian, and therefore, to automatically understand myself as one who "gets" Jesus while happily placing myself in opposition to those self-righteous Pharisees, who obviously don't "get" Jesus.

After happily placing myself in the position of being in the "right" group, it naturally follows that I would begin sorting out and labeling those who are not in the right group, all the while believing Jesus is condoning all my judgments about such matters, since I'm on his side (at least in my own head).

The unfortunate reality, however, is that at times I have found myself actually working in opposition to Jesus and the Gospel, while believing I am doing it right. This is a classic portrayal of the collective religious leadership in the Gospel narratives. They end up condemning Jesus to death, all the while believing they are acting in service to God.

This is a condition we can observe in the Bible, often referred to as spiritual "blindness" or "darkness." And it is the Pharisees who seem to most clearly model it (Unfortunately, there's also a lot of misinformation about who the Pharisees actually were, which I'll get to in a later post).

After years of studying the scriptures, teaching, preaching, sharing life in faith communities, and seeking to follow Jesus, I have come to believe more than ever that the literary function of the religious leaders, such as the Pharisees, is a gigantic mirror for the most committed, zealous, religious folks among us. And I'm not just talking about the obvious, hyper-religious jerks we've all seen on TV or encountered in real life. The spiritual blindness of the Pharisees is something every well-intended religious or dogmatic person is susceptible to.

Nobody wants to identify with the Pharisees... they have such a terrible reputation. Our culture's most widely hated sin is probably judgmentalism-- which is easily identified with the Pharisees. To be called a "Pharisee" in Christian culture is usually to be identified with self-righteousness, arrogance, pride, and bigotry. The caricature is alive and well, even if it is sometimes blown out of proportion.

The tricky thing is, no one who is embodying the spiritual blindness of the Pharisees believes they are doing it, but rather believes they are defending the truth and living faithfully. That is the nature of this blindness. That is why it is important for religious folks to understand that the religious leaders in the Gospel narratives are a gigantic mirror for us, and shouldn't be too quickly dismissed.

It can be quite humiliating to realize we sometimes embody this blindness. But thankfully God, in his mercy, continues to help people often blinded by pride and arrogance, to see a little more clearly just how dependent we are on his Spirit to open our eyes and light the way.