Books Archives - Pub Theologian

To See Beyond All Things

March 11, 2014 Books, Contemplative Life Comments are closed

Excerpts on Enlightenment from Joan Chittister. Selections from “Illuminated Life: Monastic Wisdom for Seekers of Light.”

Amma Syncletica said: “In the beginning, there is struggle and a lot of work for those who come near to God. But after that, there is indescribable joy. It is just like building a fire: at first it’s smoky and your eyes water, but later you get the desired result. Thus we ought to light the divine fire in ourselves with tears and effort.”

Enlightenment is the ability to see beyond all things we make God to find God. We make religion God and so fail to see godliness where religion is not, though goodness is clear and constant in the simplest of people, in the remotest of places. We make national honor God and fail to see the presence of God in other nations. We make personal security God and fail to see God in the bleak and barren dimensions of life. We make our own human color the color of God and fail to see God in the one who comes in different guise. We give God gender and miss the spirit of God in everyone. We separate spirit and matter as if they were two different things, though we know now from quantum physics that matter is simply fields of force made dense by the spirit of Energy. We are one with the Universe, in other words. We are not separate or different from it. We are not above it. We are in it, all of us and everything, swimming in an energy that is God. To be enlightened is to see behind the forms to the God who holds them in being.

Enlightenment sees, too, beyond the shapes and icons that intend to personalize God to the God that is too personal, too encompassing, to be any one shape or form or name. Enlightenment takes us beyond our parochialisms to the presence of God everywhere, in everyone, in the universe.

To be enlightened is to be in touch with the God within and around us more than it is to be engulfed in any single way, any one manifestation, any specific denominational or nationalistic construct, however good and well-intentioned it may be.

The important thing to remember in the spiritual life is that religion is a means, not an end. When we stop at the level of the rules and the laws, the doctrines and the dogmas—good guides as these may be—and call those things the spiritual life, we have stopped far short of the meaning of life, the call of the divine, the fullness of the self.

To be contemplative I must put down my notions of separateness from God and let God speak to me through everything that seeps through the universe into the pores of my minuscule little life. Then I will find myself, as Abbess Syncletica promises, at the flash point of the divine fire.

—
Sister Joan Chittister, OSB, is founder and Executive Director of BENEVISION: A Resource Center for Contemporary Spirituality. Her many bestselling books include The Gift of Years, The Ten Commandments, A Passion for Life, and There Is a Season.

New Year Resolution: Conversation

January 1, 2014 Books, Church, Culture, Pub Theology Comments are closed

Guest post by Scot McKnight. Original post can be read here. I share this post because I see much that is in line with my own experiences of good conversations at the pub. Read it and see if you agree.

The question: What are the central characteristics of a genuine conversation in your opinion?

I want to draw your attention to a massive and brilliant study, but for most of us far too specialized to be a book to “blog” our way through. The book is Benedetta Craveri’s The Age of Conversation. Her book is a detailed analysis of 17th Century salons, directed mostly by women, designed not for professors and specialists but for a nobility that wanted to form a society where its values and interests could become the central focus. I contend that the term “conversation” can be understood by taking an interest in this movement. I see its descendants in high society England and major metropolises in the world (e.g., high society New York — think The New Yorker). One publisher comes to mind: Alfred A. Knopf.

The Age of Conversation, seen in the salons especially in France, found a group of people who had the following characteristics:

1. They were directed by women and showed an unusual degree of integration between the sexes.
2. They were concerned with the pleasure of conversation, of learning, of enjoying one another.
3. They were shaped by absolute equality between all participants.
4. They had an ideal: to “marry lightheartedness with depth, elegance with pleasure, and the search for truth with a tolerant respect for the opinions of others” (xiii).
5. They sealed themselves off from the power structures and politics of the day in order to form an ideal society.
6. They were shaped by a style: they carried on their lives with a notable style and a code of manners.
7. They secured an informal society that had some clear boundaries between themselves and others.
8. They were opposed from the left (Rousseau thought they were oppressive) and right (Pascal thought they were too worldly).
9. They privatized what was most important to life.

Now to the issue of “style”… Life was made in the salons of France into “the most elegant of games” (340) that was shaped by loving one’s partner and fellow salon members as they ought to be loved. Tolerance and mutual respect shaped the conversation completely; honoring the integrity and value of the other shaped the the conversation as well. These conversations became the educational force for those so involved.

Central to the task was aim of pleasing others and to do this they developed several strategies, and I shall try to use the French words with some brief translation:

Politesse: courtesy.
Esprit: mental, spiritual, and social sense and joy.
Galanterie: chivalry, galantry.
Complaisance: an obligation to the other, kindness, amiability.
Enjouement: cheerfulness.
Flatterie: without being overdone, one was to complement the other.
Raillerie: playful teasing of one another.

There are dangers here, like snobbishness, and they are obvious for anyone to see. But what happened was that the French salons created an environment where conversation occurred, not to beat the daylights out of someone else, not to denounce the other, but to enjoy the pleasure of discussing pressing concerns of a given group. They learned to converse in order to learn from one another and make one another more educated.

Conversation like this, however, has its problems. As Craveri sums them up, “their exquisite courtesy was a means of domination, and their intellectual malleability was a mask for sterility and sophism” (356). In fact, at times such conversations refused to ask the hard question. “As on the battlefield where French officers took their hats off to the enemy, or in life’s crucial moments when notaries drink to the health of their expiring clients, so, in theological discussion, politesse had the upper hand, and Morellet would turn to his adversary and address him as ‘Monsieur and dear atheist’” (359).

In other words, and I hope you like this swiped line from Cynthia Ozik, the danger of conversation in this sense is tete-a-tete gone flagrante delicto.”

The fundamental obstacles to conversation among are two-fold: most conversations are blocked either by a right vs. wrong obstacle or by an information-only obstacle.

Let us say that a person wants to converse about world religions, about the presence of “silent Christians” in the Islamic world, about the issues surrounding eschatology in the New Testament, about how to “do church” in a postmodern context, about preaching in today’s world, about homosexuality, about the church and the poor, about the gospel and social justice, about marriage, about rearing children… any topic that matters and any topic about which a person has concerns and wonders what is the best way to think about. Bring into the mix a person who is young or a person who really has serious and good questions about traditions … and you create the only kind of conversation that really can a conversation. Something important, a couple of people, and a desire to learn from one another. But, often mutual exploration is not what happens. Why?

The first obstacle is the right vs. wrong risk. Orthodoxy is right; anything else or less than orthodoxy is wrong. With that looming behind every conversation, when a person raises a question there is immediately a worry if what the person is asking is orthodox or not; whether or not by participating in such a conversation a person will be seen as harboring doubts about orthodoxy; and whether associating with such persons calls into question one’s reputation. Quickly, in many cases, the conversation stops being conversation and becomes instead a quick lesson on what tradition teaches the Bible says and that if one strays from that one is questioning the Bible and, there you have it, the slippery slope worry comes to the surface.

When conversation is shaped like this — and this is what I want to contend — there is no conversation. Instead, it becomes didactic. Which leads me to the second issue.

The second obstacle is that conversations, instead of becoming explorations of one another’s minds on a given topic as each reflects on how each makes theological decisions, become information-exchange sessions. Whoever knows the most becomes the teacher; whoever knows the least becomes the student. That’s all. It’s about information exchange. It becomes catechesis instead of conversation.But the “art” of conversation can’t be learned in such a context when everything is dominated by right vs. wrong or when it becomes whoever knows the most becomes the teacher. This isn’t conversation; this is lecture or information exchange.

I do not deny the value of information, nor do I deny the importance of orthodoxy. But can we have conversations sometimes?

What are the marks of a good conversation?

First, a good conversation (and therefore a good conversationalist) requires a safe environment. By this I mean space — somewhere to feel comfortable; and I mean at least two people with listening skills; and I mean the ability to disagree if necessary but not denounce, condemn or berate.

Illustration: most of us think this blog is safe; when someone joins us at the table and starts denouncing someone we feel uncomfortable. The reason we feel uncomfortable when someone denounces another is because we assumed we were in a genuine conversation in a safe environment. We believed we were in a conversation not sitting in a pew listening to a visiting pulpiteer.

I’ve been blogging now 8 years — began about this time 8 years ago — and sometimes I wonder how long I can keep doing this but it is the commenters — our virtual community — that keeps me plugging along. So thanks.

Many have turned to the blog world because they are having difficulties finding a safe place. I can’t tell you the number of pastors who have written me privately and said “I can’t say this on your blog, but I want to converse with you about the post today” or about something else.

Second, a good conversation requires a good topic or a good question. This one is clear: what is a good topic for some is not for others. It is also clear that some topics are better than others. Some topics are off-limits for one person and on-limits for another. There is a social skill involved here: some people perceive immediately what is on-limits or off-limits; others don’t.

Third, a good conversation operates on the basis of frequently-unexpressed but nearly always assumed, shared assumptions. I find this to be a regular hang-up on the blog. Many of us operate with a set of assumptions — and it would be fun to bring to expression what these really are — but we don’t talk about them. When someone violates them, we raise our eyebrows or start to wiggle our fingers and maybe even break into a sweat. Perhaps it begins with the viability of the question we ask.

Fourth, a good conversation requires the spirit of exploration and experimentation. If I ask my good friend, Greg Clark, who happens to be a philosopher and therefore practiced in the art of conversation and one who finds it delightful to turn over each stone somehow, a question, I expect him to tell me what he is thinking on the subject and he will probably explore his mind and he’ll ask me what I think and then I’ll ask him back and it goes on and on.

The major problem here is when someone gets too dogmatic. If in conversing we want to explore something together, we can’t have someone say “here’s the answer, buffo, and there’s no other possiblities.” The shared assumption is that we don’t get too dogmatic and that we explore and think together.

Fifth, a good conversation desires wisdom. I have very little use for a conversation that goes nowhere unless a few of us are gathered just to chat over beer or coffee or about a football game. No, a good conversation with a good topic or question leads to mutual exploration so each of us can learn and grow in wisdom. As a Christian, we want the conversation to lead us into the wisdom of the way of Jesus.

Sixth, a good conversation stays within the parameter of the topic. One of the routine challenges of conversation is wandering. We begin with a good question — Did Jesus do miracles by the power of the Spirit or in his own power? Can libertarian economics exist in a world like ours? — that begins on the right track but then someone begins to talk, and wander aloud to another topic (a previous event in life) and then we’re talking about that event, which leads to another topic and we realize we are no longer on topic. This element of conversation requires either a conversation partner who keeps us in line or, better yet, we make a mutual commitment to stay in line.

—
Scot McKnight is a recognized authority on the New Testament, early Christianity, and the historical Jesus. McKnight, author of more than forty books, is the Professor of New Testament at Northern Seminary in Lombard, IL.

Every Bush is Burning

May 20, 2013 Books, Practices, Theology Comments are closed

Discerning Authentic Spiritual Experience

In Exodus 3, Moses was having an average day: tending the flock, hanging out in the desert. But then, the text notes, “he led the flock to the far side of the desert.” And there he has the profound and epic experience of meeting God in a bush. We spent some time on this passage in a recent gathering of Roots DC, the faith community I’m a part of here in DC. In the text, Moses is told to take off his sandals, for “the place where you are standing is holy ground.”

This led to some discussion: what made that ground special? What was the significance of taking off his shoes? At what point in this experience did Moses realize that it was more than just an oddity of nature, that God was meeting him there?

This led to further ponderings on divine encounters or spiritual experiences in general: what are they like? How do you know when (or if) you are having one? When to believe someone else’s account of such an experience?

I recently came across some helpful guidelines by Gerald May, whose work I’ve come across since I’ve begun working at the Shalem Institute for Spiritual Formation, a center for developing contemplative spiritual practice and leadership. May practiced medicine and psychiatry for twenty-five years before becoming a senior fellow in contemplative theology and psychology at Shalem.

May notes that when someone speaks of having an encounter with the Divine, we wonder: Is this “real” or is it an illusion contrived by ego?

In having this discussion, he reminds us that the line between reality and illusion can be very close: “Because our minds continually create images of reality through our senses and conditioning, it would be true to say that all experience is at least somewhat psychologically contrived.”

In other words, all of our experiences in life have a psychological component, whether it be chatting around the coffeepot at work, checking the mail, or a profound spiritual encounter.

He outlines eight qualities that can be useful in judging whether a spiritual experience is authentic, while noting “our experiences cannot be based on content alone”, but “must be integrated in the larger picture of life: in context, in community, and over time.”

I found these eight points very helpful, so here they are:

Meaningful Integration. Authentic spiritual experiences do not exist as isolated “highs.” They occur within the context of real life and are integrated in a way that is meaningful for both individual and community. Authentic experiences may contain a perfect end-in-itself quality, but they still have meaning and impact on life.
Bearing Good Fruit. Authentic spiritual experiences lead to good effects for individual and community. Classically, this includes deepened faith, hope, trust, compassion, creativity, and love. Authentic experiences do not lead to privatism or destructiveness.
Decreased Self-Preoccupation. Authentic experiences lead people to feel more identified with and open to the rest of humanity and the world. Experiences that lead to feelings of being more special or better than other people, or to self-absorption, are probably not authentic.
Self Knowledge. Authentic experiences lead to a greater understanding of oneself. Signs of repression, denial, or shutting out of self-awareness indicate a lack of authenticity.
Humility. Authentic experiences lead to a particular kind of humility, one that painfully recognizes more of one’s human inadequacy, yet at the same time increasingly realizes one’s won preciousness and worth as a child of God. It is a humility that is combined with dignity. This is in contrast to experiences that lead either to arrogance or devaluing of oneself.
Openness to Differences. By deepening trust in the power and goodness of God, authentic experiences lead to less defensiveness about one’s own faith and increased respect for and openness to dialogue with people of differing faiths [or perspectives]. Authentic experiences may lead to a desire to share the truth, but they do not result in defensive or aggressive clinging to one’s own understanding.
Open-endedness. Authentic spiritual experiences contain a quality of further invitation: deepened yearning, inspired energy, continued growth and healing. In contrast, experiences that communicate a sense of “having arrived” are cause for suspicion.
Ordinariness. Although authentic experiences may initially be accompanied by celebration and enthusiasm or by fear and trepidation, their integration brings a quality of wondrous appreciation of the ordinary; life is holy, and the miraculous presence of God’s grace flows through all of it. Experiences that lead to a strong separation of the holy from the mundane must be questioned.

Gerald May closes with this thought: “If there is one basic factor that distinguishes authentic from inauthentic experience, it can be found in a paraphrase of John of the Cross: In the end, all of us—and all of our experiences—must be judged on the basis of one thing, and that is love.” (Gerald May’s guidelines quoted in Holy Meeting Ground: 20 Years of Shalem)

Sometimes we long for such a deep, powerful experience as Moses had with the bush in the desert. We wonder why God hasn’t met us in such a powerful way. Yet perhaps such an experience is nearer to us than we think.

John Philip Newell is a poet, scholar, and teacher of the Celtic tradition from Scotland. He recently visited the DC region for the two day Gerald May Seminar held by the Shalem Institute, an annual event which seeks to carry on the legacy of May’s life and teaching. He spoke on the connection between earth awareness and contemplative practice, noting that there is a profound and deep connection between matter and spirit that perhaps we’ve forgotten. He puts it this way, in his recent book A New Harmony: The Spirit, The Earth, and The Human Soul:

In the story of Moses and the burning bush, in which the Living Presence is revealed in the words “I am who I am” or “I will be what I will be,” Moses is told to take off his shoes, for the ground on which he is standing is holy. He is told to uncover the soles of his feet, a place of deep knowing in the human form. Think of walking barefoot in the grass. Think of placing our bare feet into the coolness of a refreshing stream. When we do so, we see in a new way. Doors of perception are opened in us. Rabbi Nahum, in teaching on this passage from Torah, likes to say that the important aspect of this story is not that the bush is burning, but that Moses notices. For every bush is burning. Every bush is aflame with the Living Presence. The “fiery power,” as Hildegard puts it, is hidden in everything that has being.

An encounter with the divine may be nearer than you think. The title of Newell’s chapter from which I quoted? Every Bush is Burning. The question is: have you paused to notice? Have you made space in your busy life? Maybe it’s time to go for a walk. And don’t forget: leave the shoes at home.

In Session: Pub Theology 101

March 27, 2013 Books, Pub Theology Comments are closed

A Guide to Cultivating Meaningful Conversations at the Pub

You’ve heard about people gathering at the pub to talk about God and faith, and wondered, why aren’t I doing this? Now you can, thanks to this new guide by Bryan Berghoef, author of Pub Theology: Beer, Conversation, and God. Here Bryan walks through all the steps to beginning your own Pub Theology group, from choosing a location to deciding what to talk about. (You’ll have to make your own decision as to whether you prefer an IPA or a stout). And the best part of this new book: hundreds of discussion topics and questions, sorted by category–such as art, belief, death, morality, philosophy, politics, science, and world religions, to name a few–that Bryan has compiled from over five years’ worth of pub discussions.

So what are you waiting for? This is the inspiration you’ve needed, and the resources to boot, all for less than the price of a pint!
—Book description at Amazon.com

My new book, Pub Theology 101: A Guide to Cultivating Meaningful Conversations at the Pub, is out TODAY for Kindle for only $2.99! (Go to Amazon page)

After my first book, Pub Theology, came out, I began to hear from people all over the country—some leading similar groups, others wanting to get one going. The constant request was: what do we talk about? Do you have some topics for us to get started?

I have compiled all of my topics, questions, and quotes from facilitating Pub Theology sessions for the last five years into one handy ebook, all sorted by category, as well as some tips and suggestions for best practices. And I’m making it all available for—have I said this—less than the price of a pint (or a tip to the bartender.) This is a must-have resource for anyone leading discussions at the pub!

You can carry this handy guide with you on your Kindle or smartphone and pull it out whenever you’re looking for something interesting to talk about with friends, or when prepping for facilitating a Pub Theology session (or Theology Pub, or Theology on Tap, or even Scripture and Scotch, as I heard the other day).

Quotes from Bob Dylan, Søren Kierkegaard, Mother Theresa, Mark Driscoll, Thomas Aquinas, Rob Bell, Kester Brewin, John Piper, Peter Rollins, John Calvin, the Talmud, the Buddha, Plato, Demosthenes, Immanuel Kant, Martin Buber, Abraham Joshua Heschel, Tim Keller, Richard Rohr, Jesus, the Shepherd of Hermas, Marcus Borg, Karen Armstrong, Walter Wink, John Frame, Elizabeth Gilbert, Oprah, C.S. Lewis, Doug Pagitt, Blaise Pascal, Ludwig Feuerbach, Leo Tolstoy, Paul Tillich, and. . . many many more questions that I’ve written or others have shared with me —all gathered here, for your pub theologizing pleasure.

So what are you waiting for? Get your copy now!

I should also mention—there’s no marketing plan and no major publisher behind this, it is totally word of mouth and grassroots, so share on your Facebook page, Tweet it, pass it along to friends. If you know anyone who might benefit from this resource—let them know!

*Also, if this resource proves helpful to you, please leave a review at Amazon!
—
Don’t have a Kindle? You can get a free Kindle reading app for your Mac, your PC, your tablet, iPad, phone… Or, you can convert it to Nook or other another eReader format at Calibre.

From Chad Schuitema, facilitator of Pub Theology Lafayette:

“Everything you need to start your own Pub Gatherings – except the courage! The enormous amount of questions and discussion starters have helped me not only with each week’s gathering, but have helped me come up with my own as well. A much needed resource!”

Of Gulls and Men

February 20, 2013 Books, Church, Practices, Readings, Worship Comments are closed

Flock_of_Seagulls

A Reflection for Lent

I read Tortilla Flat by John Steinbeck recently. There’s this terrific moment when one of the main characters, Pilon, has a sacred encounter with sea gulls:

“These birds are flying across the forehead of the Father. Dear birds, dear sea gulls, how I love you all. Your slow wings stroke my heart as the hand of a gentle master strokes the full stomach of a sleeping dog, as the hand of Christ stroked the heads of little children. Dear birds,” he thought, “fly to our Lady of Sweet Sorrows with my open heart.”

And then he said the loveliest words he knew, “Ave Maria, gratia plena –”

There was, nor is, nor ever has been a purer soul than Pilon’s at that moment… A soul washed and saved is a soul doubly in danger, for everything in the world conspires against such a soul. “Even the straws under my knees,” says Saint Augustine, “shout to distract me from prayer.”

Pilon’s soul was not even proof against his own memories; for, as he watched the birds, he remembered that Mrs. Pastano used sea gulls sometimes in her tamales, and that memory made him hungry, and hunger tumbled his soul out of the sky. Pilon moved on, once more a cunning mixture of good and evil.”

We looked at Jesus in the desert at our house church gathering this past Sunday, and noted how this episode of temptation came right after a high point: his baptism in the Jordan River. Is this paradigmatic of human life? Are we most vulnerable when we’ve just come through a profound spiritual moment?

Lent is a season to consider new spiritual practices, or to incorporate some new habits. Yet, as Augustine notes, even our best intentions are easily undone by distractions shouting at us from around and beneath us. This is probably true these days as ever, amid Facebook notifications, Twitterfeeds, and busy schedules. But that also makes this season of Lent as needed as ever.

In the coming weeks, we might do well to intentionally spend some time in the straw, adding a new spiritual discipline or practice, while paying attention to what it is that distracts us from these higher pursuits.

And who knows, perhaps a moment of sublimity such as Pilon knew will come our way.

Just watch out for Mrs. Pastano’s tamales.

–
Bryan Berghoef writes and tweets from the nation’s capital. His book: Pub Theology: Beer, Conversation, and God invites you to engage in deep conversations over a good beer. You can follow Bryan on Twitter @bryberg.

The Return of Faith

January 2, 2013 Book review, Books, Church, Culture, Theology Comments are closed

A detail of a mural at Santa Maria Antiqua — Sometimes a step back is necessary for us to move forward.

Faith vs. Belief

Every once in awhile I run across a book that keeps me up late and has me excited to wake up in the morning. Harvey Cox’s The Future of Faith is one such book.

In the first chapter he notes that contrary to earlier predictions, faith and religion are as vibrant as ever. But things are shifting. People are turning to religion more for support in their efforts to live in this world and make it better, and less to prepare for the next. “The pragmatic and experiential elements of faith as a way of life are displacing the previous emphasis on institution and beliefs.” In short, Cox claims that we are moving from an era of ‘belief’ to an era of ‘faith.’ But aren’t belief and faith the same thing, you ask? No, and understanding the difference is vital, not only for one’s own spiritual journey, but for grasping the undercurrents of the larger shifts in the world of spirituality.

An excerpt from Chapter One:

It is true that for many people “faith” and “belief” are just two words for the same thing. But they are not the same, and in order to grasp the magnitude of the religious upheaval now under way, it is important to clarify the difference. Faith is about deep-seated confidence. In everyday speech we usually apply it to people we trust or the values we treasure. It is what theologian Paul Tillich (1886-1965) called “ultimate concern,” a matter of what the Hebrews spoke of as the “heart.”

Belief, on the other hand, is more like opinion. We often use the term in everyday speech to express a degree of uncertainty. “I don’t really know about that,” we say, “but I believe it may be so.” Beliefs can be held lightly or with emotional intensity, but they are more propositional than existential. We can believe something to be true without it making much difference to us, but we place our faith only in something that is vital for the way we live. Of course people sometimes confuse faith with beliefs, but it will be hard to comprehend the tectonic shift in Christianity today unless we understand the distinction between the two.

The Spanish writer Migual Unamuno (1864-1936) dramatizes the radical dissimilarity of faith and belief in his short story “Saint Manuel Bueno, Martyr,” in which a young man returns from the city to his native village in Spain because his mother is dying. In the presence of the local priest she clutches his hand and asks him to pray for her. The son does not answer, but as they leave the room, he tells the priest that, much as he would like to, he cannot pray for his mother because he does not believe in God. “That’s nonsense,” the priest replies. “You don’t have to believe in God to pray.”

The priest in Unamuno’s story recognized the difference between faith and belief. He knew that prayer, like faith, is more primordial than belief. He might have engaged the son who wanted to pray but did not believe in God in a theological squabble. He could have hauled out the frayed old “proofs” for the existence of God, whereupon the young man might have quoted the equally jaded arguments against the proofs. Both probably knew that such arguments go nowhere. The French writer Simone Weil (1909-43) also knew. In her Notebooks, she once scribbled a gnomic sentence: “If we love God, even though we think he doesn’t exist, he will make his existence manifest.” Weil’s words sound paradoxical, but in the course of her short and painful life—she died at thirty-four—she learned that love and faith are both more primal than beliefs.

Debates about the existence of God or the gods were raging in Plato’s time, twenty-five hundred years ago. Remarkable, they still rage on today, as a recent spate of books rehearsing the routine arguments for and against the existence of God demonstrates. By their nature these quarrels are about beliefs and can never be finally settled. But faith, which is more closely related to awe, love, and wonder, arose long before Plato, among our most primitive Homo sapiens forebears. Plato engaged in disputes about beliefs, not about faith.

Creeds are clusters of beliefs. But the history of Christianity is not a history of creeds. It is the story of a people of faith who sometimes cobbled together creeds out of beliefs. It is also the history of equally faithful people who questioned, altered, and discarded those same creeds. As with church buildings, from clapboard chapels to Gothic cathedrals, creeds are symbols by which Christians have at times sought to represent their faith. But both the doctrinal canons and the architectural constructions are means to an end. Making either the defining element warps the underlying reality of faith.

The nearly two thousand years of Christian history can be divided into three uneven periods. The first might be called the “Age of Faith.” It began with Jesus and his immediate disciples when a buoyant faith propelled the movement he initiated. During this first period of both explosive growth and brutal persecution, their sharing in the living Spirit of Christ united Christians with each other, and “faith” meant hope and assurance in the dawning of a new era of freedom, healing, and compassion that Jesus had demonstrated. To be a Christian meant to live in his Spirit, embrace his hope, and to follow him in the work that he had begun.

The second period in Christian history can be called the “Age of Belief.” Its seeds appeared within a few short decades of the birth of Christianity when church leaders began formulating orientation programs for new recruits who had not known Jesus or his disciples personally. Emphasis on belief began to grow when these primitive instruction kits thickened into catechisms, replacing faith in Jesus with tenets about him. Thus, even during that early Age of Faith the tension between faith and belief was already foreshadowed.

Then, during the closing years of the third century, something more ominous occurred. An elite class—soon to become a clerical class—began to take shape, and ecclesial specialists distilled the various teaching manuals into lists of beliefs. Still, however, these varied widely from place to place, and as the fourth century began there was still no single creed. The scattered congregations were united by a common Spirit. A wide range of different theologies thrived. The turning point came when Emperor Constantine the Great (d. 387 CE) made his adroit decision to commandeer Christianity to bolster his ambitions for the empire. He decreed that the formerly outlawed new religion of the Galilean should now be legal, but he continued to reverence the sun god Helios alongside Jesus.

Constantine also imposed a muscular leadership over the churches, appointing and dismissing bishops, paying salaries, funding buildings, and distributing largesse. He and not the pope was the real head of the church. Whatever his motives, Constantine’s policies and those of his successors crowned Christianity as the official religion of the Roman Empire. The emperors undoubtedly hoped this strategy would shore up their crumbling dominion, from which the old gods seemed to have fled. The tactic, however, did not save the empire from collapse. But for Christianity it proved to be a disaster: its enthronement actually degraded it. From an energetic movement of faith it coagulated into a phalanx of required beliefs, thereby laying the foundation for every succeeding Christian fundamentalism for centuries to come.

The ancient corporate merger triggered a titanic makeover. The empire became “Christian,” and Christianity became imperial. Thousands of people scurried to join a church they had previously despised, but now bore the emperor’s seal of approval. Bishops assumed quasi-imperial powers and began living like imperial elites. During the ensuing “Constantinian era,” Christianity, at least its official version, froze into a system of mandatory precepts that were codified into creeds and strictly monitored by a powerful hierarchy and imperial decrees. Heresy became treason, and reason became heresy.

…Neither the Renaissance nor the Reformation did much to alter the underlying foundations of the Age of Belief… The Age of Belief lasted roughly fifteen hundred years, ebbing in fits and starts with the Enlightenment, the French Revolution, the secularization of Europe, and the anticolonial upheavals of the twentieth century.

Still, to think of this long middle ear as a nothing but a dark age is misleading. As we have seen, throughout those fifteen centuries Christian movements and personalities continued to live by faith and according to the Spirit. Confidence in Christ was their primary orientation, and hope for his Kingdom their motivating drive. [I cut a fair bit of this and the preceding paragraph for the sake of brevity.]
Now we stand on the threshold of a new chapter in the Christian story. Despite dire forecasts of its decline, Christianity is growing faster that it ever has before, but mainly outside the West and in movements that accent spiritual experience, discipleship and hope; pay scant attention to creeds; and flourish without hierarchies. We are now witnessing the beginning of a “post-Constantinian era.” Christians on five continents are sharking off the residues of the second phase (the Age of Belief) and negotating a bumpy transition into a fresh era for which a name has not yet been coined.

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So, can we make a distinction between ‘faith’ and ‘belief’?

The book, as best I can tell (I’m into Chapter Four), dives further into this delineation, into what got us to where we’ve been, and what might move us forward into the future.

Terrific stuff, and as I read it, it seems to make a decent amount of sense. And perhaps more pertinent, it seems to connect with what we find in the text: Jesus himself and the earliest believers, it seems, were not motivated by assent to a list of beliefs, but rather a deep-seated and profound faith that God was doing something new and his kingdom was breaking into the world in unprecedented ways.

I find that for some time perhaps I’ve been losing faith in belief, even as my faith continues to grow in new and exciting ways. It is encouraging to consider this larger movement of God’s Spirit in the world, which, despite our best efforts to constrain it, continues to “blow wherever it will.”

A Naive Approach to Interfaith Dialogue

December 28, 2012 Beer, Book review, Books, Pub Theology Comments are closed

My book, Pub Theology, has been out for about six months now. I have heard from readers all over, nearly all of whom have really enjoyed the book. The reviews on Amazon are all positive. The Goodreads ratings are great. This is a bit surprising to me, as I expected a certain amount of push back from readers. Perhaps they have been biding their time. A disappointed reader recently responded to the feature review of Pub Theology posted at the Englewood Review of Books.

Check out this response from Alex:

I am nearly finished with Berghoef’s work, which I had high hopes for. I appreciate points of your review, but I have to say that I do disagree about some of Berghoef’s intentions. If it were merely a monograph to discuss active listening in interfaith settings, I would be all ears. But within that framework he exposes that he is not a Christian living in a pluralistic world, he is a pluralist. I don’t say this with disrespect but in recognition that he is seeking to shed the “exclusitivity” of fundamentalism and traditional Christianity while learning what it means to “climb to the top of the mountain” of understanding and knowing God, asserting that multiple faiths can be incorporated into Christianity without any taking priority. (See his illustration of the telescope for an example). In establishing pub theology, he is also seeking to deconstruct Christian theology into a more cultural friendly model. I admittedly am frustrated with what you call his “whimsical” approaches to these gatherings. I too believe that there needs to be real listening and understanding, but I would not go so far as to say that this negates some central tenets to my own faith. I think that I can still be an “orthodox” Christian while also dialoguing with other faiths. From Berghoef’s Reformed background, he seems to posit the rigidness and fear of that upbringing as something that all people universally experience with tradtional (sic) Christianity. I would say that his context is dictating his views of others’ experience with the church in a way that molds his book. Maybe I am not progressive enough, but I don’t see religious pluralism as the necessary next step for Christianity, remembering that Jesus calls Himself the “way, truth, and the life.” The trouble I have with this multi-faith approach to God is that many of the faiths mentioned, at least in their primary Scriptures, see themselves as the sole route to God. To omit this is to in some way neglect what is a central part of the different faiths represented, and it’s a naive approach to interfaith dialogue.

These are just some of my relatively disjointed thoughts, but I’ve been wrestling with this book and needed to get them out.

Alright. There we go. That wasn’t so hard, was it? If you’ve read the book, I’d be interested in your thoughts about the above. If you haven’t read the book… what are you waiting for? (Spend $10 of your Christmas cash and start reading now on your Kindle).

I actually really appreciate where Alex is coming from. I’ve encountered others who have had the same frustration. I expected more people would have this same concern, and probably they do, but for whatever reason haven’t voiced it. But that very frustration highlights to me why the book (and the gatherings) are needed! Too often Christians can only contemplate a space in which they are allowed to have the final say, they are allowed to ‘be right,’ and the forum which purports to be an open dialogue really masks for the latest in a clever church outreach attempt. People should be treated like adults. We shouldn’t need to try to con anyone, by attempting to ‘be relevant’ and hang out at the pub, while secretly just waiting to do our evangelistic duty, all the while despising pubs and beer and anyone who wonders if God actually exists. We shouldn’t say we’re having a conversation where all are welcome at the table and there’s no requirement for any particular faith, and then turn around and make it into a Bible study or recruitment session for a particular church. A true open space will be divested of hidden motives to convert. A true open space will allow for anyone present to have the floor, and even, the final say. If we really trust in the Holy Spirit’s ability to work, we should never have to resort to manipulative tactics.

Further, a true open space will also require its attendants to be honest. And, yes, this will lead to disagreements. There will be times where I, as a Christian, flat out disagree with a Muslim, or an atheist, or a Buddhist, about some central issues! I find God most fully revealed in the person of Jesus. I don’t expect a Muslim or Jew to agree about this. And the book notes that disagreements will occur – and even highlights this with some actual pub theology dialogue. (I actually think much of Alex’s concerns are addressed in the book, but then I often don’t land where he wants me to, hence the frustration).

Here is how I responded to him:

Hi Alex-

Glad to hear you are reading the book, and I share your high hopes for it. 🙂 I entirely appreciate your comments and your frustrations, and am glad you posted them. Also, before I forget, I’ve spent significant time in evangelical settings, so I think I have a fair grasp of (and to an extent have been shaped by) this perspective as well.

The book is meant to draw us into a setting of conversations where we actually do encounter others. Part of that requires at least sitting down to the table as a “pluralist,” in the minimal sense of: I believe all people are created in God’s image and have something to teach me. This does not necessarily mean everyone is right, or all paths lead to God, or anything of the sort. At that point you’re reading into what I’m saying (or not saying). I’m pretty sure I don’t make any claims in the book as to people’s eternal destinies. (Though I do hope and trust that God’s grace and mercy are much wider than I can imagine).

When discussions happen with people of various (and often competing) worldviews, there are going to be disagreements. Yes. Absolutely. Perhaps I could have articulated this more strongly in the book (though I think it is evident in some of the pub anecdotes and elsewhere). There have often been evenings at the pub where I have, as a Christian, flat out disagreed with people over important issues. An honest discussion demands this.

However, the point of the book is not to give an exposition of my own theology (though it arises at points), but rather to encourage the setting in which true and good dialogue can happen, and indicate ways in which one’s own faith or perspective (regardless of which kind), can be broadened.

I intentionally don’t show all of my cards, or even give the hoped for “But you’re going to tell everyone Jesus is the only way to God, right?”, because I want people to live in the tension. The tension of true interfaith connection, in which we hold the possibility (even if we don’t embrace it), that “the other” may well be right, and we are the ones who need to learn. As I note in the introduction, for too long the church has taken the place of preacher and teacher, and perhaps it is our turn to listen. Your comments indicate the discomfort that arises with such tension. You want to enter such discussions, not really to learn, but with the safe knowledge that you are right, and anticipating the moment you can share that. (Ironically, we Christians often come to such discussions hoping others will be open to our perspectives, while having no intention of being open to theirs).

You may not be in a place where you have something to learn from others, which perhaps might indicate your frustration with the book, and that’s fine. But many, many others have found the book to be a welcome volume which allows their own doubts, questions, and answers to be honestly wrestled with.

The book is not a defense of the Christian faith, or any other faith, though I write it as a Christian. It is simply one person’s experience of engaging others, and realizing that our world will be a better place if we can all sit down together and talk, instead of dismissing each other from our own safe enclaves.

I have no grand project of converting others at Pub Theology, except to this: to be a better person — one who loves more fully, questions more broadly, listens more intently, and hopes more strongly. I trust that at the end of the day, God’s purposes will happen, and the truth will win out.

As Augustine put it: “The truth is like a lion. You don’t have to defend it. Let it loose. It will defend itself.”

God doesn’t need me to sit at the pub and tell everyone they’re wrong if they don’t believe a particular (often, narrow) version of Christianity. He needs me to create a space of hospitality, where all are received and welcome, and where his very way is incarnated and on display. Where saints and sinners are equals. And occasionally [in fact, often!], yes, I tell people about Jesus.

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What do you think? Is Pub Theology a ‘naive approach to interfaith dialogue’? Or is it a needed shift toward creating true spaces of connection in our communities?

Relevant no matter your belief system, great read all around

December 20, 2012 Beer, Book review, Books, Church, Pub Theology Comments are closed

With a Perseus Porter at Elysian's Capitol Hill Pub on Pike Street in Seattle — With a Perseus Porter at Elysian’s Capitol Hill Pub on Pike Street in Seattle

Latest reader review of Pub Theology posted on Amazon.com:

Let me preface this review with the fact that I am by no means a Christian, nor a non-believer. A skeptic at heart, I came into the book and the concept of Pub Theology warily. I had never heard of Pub Theology or even met Bryan, but the book found me by chance.

That being said, it was a delightful read. He’s wise beyond his years and brings us a message of love, understanding, and openness. Do not let the word ‘theology’ turn you off – it’s relevant life-enriching information no matter your belief system. Whether you come into this as a veteran on the subject or as a fresh mind, you’ll find value. Worst-case scenario it’s a fun read on an interesting subject and a wonderful refresher. Best-case, you’re going to start seeing things differently and come away with some very useful information.

I was invited to and attended a Pub Theology event while in midst of the book. If you have the opportunity to visit one, do not miss the chance.

An Invitation to Authentic Conversation and Community

November 25, 2012 Beer, Book review, Books, Pub Theology Comments are closed

A Book Review of Pub Theology
 by Matthew Goode

While I was an undergrad Religious Studies major at a state university, I had some of the best interfaith conversations of my life… at the bar. Our regular group consisted of an atheist, a Wiccan, a Catholic, and a Methodist (me). There were others from the department who would join us at times. This group was informal, formed quite organically, and was the setting of some of the most rewarding theological and philosophical conversations I ever had. Then something happened. I went to seminary. Although I continued having theological and philosophical conversations at the bar, they were mostly with other Christians. Now I am a pastor, and my conversations have become even more limited.

Bryan Berghoef has both invited and challenged me to return to the bar and to the transformational conversations that happen when we gather with folks who are different from us. “Pub Theology” is an insightful yet approachable blend of personal narrative, community narrative, theology, and, oh yeah… beer. Bryan’s honesty about his own journey and the risk of denominational disapproval should be an encouragement to all pastors who feel that they are hiding part of themselves in order to fit within the system. Bryan stepped out in faith, not to do something new and cool, but instead to authentically express the ways that God was calling him to be in community and conversation with others.

“Pub Theology” is not a how-to book for the next cool new fad in church outreach. “Pub Theology” is not necessarily even new or cool. Instead, “Pub Theology” is an authentic expression of the very old idea of coming together around the table in community with others. Deep conversations in pubs have existed as long as pubs have. When people are in a comfortable setting (with good beer) they feel free to let their guard down and be vulnerable with each other. That vulnerability opens up deep spaces where deep transformation can happen.

Make no mistake, Bryan has not written a whimsical proposal about how much fun it would be to talk about God over a beer. “Pub Theology” marries the experience of a community with deep theological thought. Bryan turns to minds like Jack Caputo and Peter Rollins (two of my inspirations), and presents their ideas in an approachable manner without watering them down. This book is a very pleasant read that has deep and complex flavors for the more discerning palate. Perhaps this is coincidence, or perhaps it is the author’s intention to have his book evoke the feeling of drinking a great beer.

I raise my glass to Bryan Berghoef and “Pub Theology” for inviting, challenging, and encouraging me to return the types of conversations that God is calling all of us to participate in.

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» Pub Theology is available in paperback or for Kindle at Amazon.com.

Finally!

November 12, 2012 Beer, Book review, Books, Pub Theology Comments are closed

A Goodreads Review of Pub Theology

By Adriane Devries

Finally, Bryan Berghoef, evangelical Christian pastor and beer connoisseur, gives us in written form what so many of us secretly desire: permission to mix up our beer and religion, in public even!

Perseus — “It makes perfect sense, really.”

In Pub Theology, he describes the formation of a club so unique as to be both hated and feared in his community, a club in which the only requirement is humble curiosity and the willingness to discuss things of God and faith. Invited are Islamists, Buddhists, atheists, Christians, and learners of all persuasions who would like to discuss key topics that form the basis of religion, in a setting that provides the consumption of good IPAs and Extra Special Darks.

It makes perfect sense, really. The availability of alcohol both precludes the arrival of Bible-toting ranters who need to dominate the conversation; and the presence of alcohol in the veins ensures conversation flows with less inhibition than such a subject generally engenders. Opponents of such an idea express outrage that a Christian pastor would not only meet in such a pagan setting, but also that he would not even subtly direct the conversation to a three-point sermon on salvation through the blood of Jesus at the end of each meeting.

Quite the contrary, he provides merely the questions to get conversation going, allowing all parties to share openly their opinions and experiences, and if a Bible-thumper starts filibustering, the conversation is politely re-directed to a new topic. Berghoef encourages an “exploration approach” to faith, which focuses on experiencing God graciously in life-affirming and socially beneficial community, rather than an “indoctrination approach,” which focuses on knowing right answers. Christians who feel the need to believe the right things will no doubt cringe when reading much of this book, but to them he would say, No Fear! The very strength of our faith, and yes, even the faiths of others who are different, is his ultimate goal. Such conversations strip down notions that we perhaps have never thought through, that perhaps are not truly necessary components of traditions that may be entirely human in origin, citing that “Ironically, it may well be that opening ourselves up to the traditions of others is the very thing that helps save our own.”

Perhaps, he contests, being right is not really very Christian at all: “In our efforts to refute other perspectives, to shout the loudest, to make sure people know that we are right, we may in fact be betraying the very God we are seeking to represent,” and the best way to show faith in Jesus is to “simply spend time with anyone, simply because they are a fellow human being, and that perhaps I am especially called to spend time with those who are often outcast by our communities of faith.”

A pub seems like one of the least intimidating places to meet folks of different backgrounds, who might ultimately benefit most from such conversations. Do you dare do it yourself? Maybe a Pub Theology setting is just the challenge your faith has been needing.
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» Pub Theology is available in paperback or for Kindle at Amazon.com.