The English word heresy comes from the Greek
αἵρεσις
(hairesis), "choice," which in turn comes from the verb
αἱρέω (hairéo), "to
take, seize" (the middle form of the verb,
αἱρέομαι, means
"to take for oneself, to choose"). A heretic is someone who makes a
choice, and as the word developed in Greek before its transfer to
English (via Latin and Old French), it became someone who makes a choice
that is not accepted by the majority. In first century Palestinian
Judaism, Christians were heretics, because they followed a form of
Judaism that lay outside the mainstream of Jewish thought. In some
early Christian circles Gnostics were heretics, because they chose a
form of Christianity foreign to other Christians in their area; in other
places the form of Christianity that we today call orthodox was in fact
the minority position, and thus a heresy in the eyes of other
Christians. People are constantly faced with choices, and today's
reading from Acts describes several choices that early followers of
Jesus made. The first choice involved the initial decision of Peter and
others, including Judas, to follow Jesus in the first place. The second
choice involved Judas's decision to betray Jesus. The third choice was
to replace Judas with another follower of Jesus. The fourth choice was
to cast lots and accept the person designated as God's chosen
replacement. The person chosen was Matthias. The fifth choice,
unstated but implicit, was Matthias's acceptance of his new role among
The Twelve and Joseph Barsabbas's acceptance of his rejection. After
this initial account, the book of Acts is silent concerning both
Matthias and Joseph, as is the rest of the New Testament. Although
traditions exist concerning the careers and fates of these two men, none
are historically reliable. Outside of the religious context, people
make choices every day, and the world--or at least our small part of
it--is changed. Sometimes we find ourselves in the position of making a
choice that benefits one person but not another. Sometimes the tables
are turned, and we are at the mercy of another person's choice.
Countries make choices--to go to war or not, to raise taxes or not, to
protect an oppressed group or not, to aid those in need or not.
Elections (based on the Latin word elego, the equivalent of the
Greek hairéo) are choices that the people in a democracy
make. We can't avoid making choices ourselves, because even the refusal
to choose is an act of choosing, and we certainly can't stop other
people from making choices that affect us. The best we can do is make
the best-informed, responsible, courageous choices we can make; learn to
accept the choices of others with grace, even when we disagree with
them; and develop our powers of persuasion so that we can influence
choices, both our own and those of others, for the better. "Heretics"
are those who had the courage to make choices, even when they weren't
popular. Maligned and sometimes persecuted for their beliefs, they
stood by the courage of their convictions. As we all know, vox
populi non semper vox dei. Don't be afraid to be a heretic!
Psalm 1 (first published 11 February 2007)
For twenty of the past twenty-four months, we have had below average rainfall in the area. Despite a slight improvement over the winter, conditions have yet to get much better, and if this summer is anything like last summer--the hottest on record, and one of the driest--things look bad for local vegetation and wildlife. At the school where I work someone planted a magnolia tree a long time ago, maybe thirty or forty years ago or so, and it died last summer from lack of water. Even though every other tree on campus survived, this particular one didn't, and no one noticed that it needed water until it was too late. We have a river running through the center of town, and tourists--and the occasional native--can take rides on flat boats to see the sites. As you round a bend and see a building that looks like it's completely two-dimensional on your left, if you'll look to your right you'll see a huge magnolia tree on the bank of the river, with its roots extending down into the water. This tree must be more than a hundred years old, and it's still going strong. The difference between the two magnolia trees is obvious: one has roots that have constant access to life-giving water, and the other didn't. The psalmist says that our lives are like those magnolia trees. If we put our trust in God and live our lives to the best of our abilities in accordance with our understanding of God's will, we will flourish. No, we won't always succeed in everything we undertake, but we will live. We'll survive the disappointments in life, the tragedies that we experience, and the times when we wonder exactly what it is God wants us to do. We'll rejoice in our own successes and in the successes of friends and family, in the unexpected pleasures that life sometimes brings, and in the satisfaction of knowing that we've lived life well. When we moved back to Texas from Georgia a little over two years ago and moved into our new house, I planted a magnolia tree in my front yard. It hasn't seen a lot of rain since it's been there, but I've watered it regularly, and it's put forth big, white, sweet-smelling blossoms each spring, and it's grown about a foot. I had to stake it to the ground for more than a year to make sure that the high winds that we sometimes get here wouldn't rip its roots right out of the ground. The stakes are gone now, because its roots are deep and strong. I'm sure they haven't grown deep enough to reach the water table yet, so I'll keep watering it. I hope to see new flowers on it this spring and summer, and I hope it's full of big green leaves. Every magnolia tree needs water to live, and every human needs contact with the divine.
2012 update: Despite record temperatures two out of the last three summers, accompanied by even more severe droughts than in 2006-7, the magnolia tree in my front yard continues to thrive. A new flower opened at the very top of the tree only yesterday.
"I don't believe God led you to assign the class to read this book
and write a review on it, so I'm not going to do it," said "Stella" to
me one day after I finished teaching that day's church history class.
Taken aback, I wasn't quite sure how to respond at first. I later
learned that Stella chastised one of my colleagues when she admitted
that she was tempted by sin. "True Christians aren't tempted by sin,"
Stella had told her. "I'm certainly not." Years earlier a seminary
roommate told me a story about how his previous minister had told him
something that "God had revealed to him" (the minister) concerning my
roommate. Because he respected his minister, he felt obligated to think
about it, but after due consideration, he decided that the minister was
off his rocker. Presidential candidates occasionally suggest that God
has told them to run for office, although apparently God doesn't always
guarantee that they'll win, or that God won't hedge God's bets by
telling another candidate to run in the same election. All this talk
about "God told me this" and "God told me that" leads many people to
think that all such God-talk is pure self-delusion, yet many people have
profound spiritual experiences that they would without hesitation
attribute to an encounter with the divine, so they wouldn't rule out
that someone else might have had a similar experience. How should we
deal with people who claim direct divine knowledge of something,
especially when in concerns us? The author of 1 John says this: "If we
receive human testimony, the testimony of God is greater; for this is
the testimony of God that he has testified to his Son. Those who
believe in the Son of God have the testimony in their hearts. Those who
do not believe in God have made him a liar by not believing in the
testimony that God has given concerning his Son." Christians have
traditionally accepted this argument, but we have to realize that it's
similar to the "God told me to tell you" sort of argument that most of
us tend to consider very skeptically, if at all. We might accept what
these verses say because the message is part of our Christian tradition,
because it's in the Bible, or because it comports with our own
experience. Or maybe we take it with a grain of salt, recognizing the
circular nature of the argument from a logical perspective, reserving
the right to exercise our own judgment on such matters. And this brings
us back to the question of how to deal with people who have a message
from God to us. We all recognize prophetic voices in our midst, people
like Martin Luther King, Jr., or Desmond Tutu, or the Dalai Lama, or a
host of lesser-known women and men whose voices resonate with our
spirits and communicate the word of God to us. We also recognize
charlatans, fakirs, frauds, and those who are simply deluded, those
whose voices bring ridicule to the individual at best and discredit to
the gospel at worst. The goal of the Christian life, as 1 John tells
us, is to live a life characterized by love of God expressed in love for
our brothers and sisters, and to experience the love of God in return
through other people. That's a message we can believe in. As for
Stella, after recovering from the initial shock of her audacious
comment, here's what I told her: "Whether God led me to choose this book
to assign doesn't really matter. If you want to pass this class, you'll
read it and write a review of it." She failed the class.
John 17:6-19 (first published 1 June 2003)
What does Jesus mean in John 17:14 when he says that his followers do not belong to the world? Simeon Stylites, in an effort to separate himself from the world, sat on a pillar outside Constantinople for thirty-nine years; his disciple Daniel sat on another pillar for thirty-six years. Other Christians have sought refuge in the desert, monasteries, or distinctive Christian communities. Many other Christians have lived alongside others in the world, striving to transform the world without being unduly influenced by it. All of these Christians have taken seriously the call to separate themselves from the world, and in doing so they have not taken the easy road of complete assimilation to the prevailing culture. Not all have been equally attentive to Jesus' other comment in John 17:18 that he has sent his followers into the world. Whatever else separation from the world implies, it does not mandate actual isolation from all others. On the contrary, Jesus suggests that separation from the world can take place while in the midst of the world. Jesus' followers are called, then, to participate to some extent in the normal activities of our fellow inhabitants of the planet. Following the example of Jesus himself (who said that he, too, was not part of the world), we should interact with others, show compassion, meet needs, and set an example by our lives. At the same time, we must be careful not to surrender to the temptations of the world that we know will be detrimental to us and to our witness. As the passage in 1 John reminds us, we achieve eternal life only by living out a life of faith in God's Son. As we look at other Christians' attempts to separate themselves from the world while still remaining relevant, we find that we have many models to choose from. Probably no one nowadays will choose to sit on a pillar for years as a witness against the temptations of the world, but before we criticize those who did that, we first need to ask ourselves what comforts and freedoms we would be willing to sacrifice in order to follow God's call in our lives. Second, we need to learn a little more about Simeon and Daniel, the pillar-sitters. Far from being irrelevant, they were among the most influential spiritual leaders of their day. Pilgrims came from miles around to consult them, and they even influenced the policies of emperors by their counsel. Is our influence in the world just as great?