“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,there is a field. I’ll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase “each other”
doesn’t make any sense.”
-Rumi
If I’m guilty of anything, it’s being a relativist. I’ve given up trying to persuade people what to believe, or what God is or isn’t. I have my ideas; you have yours, and as long as these ideas and beliefs enable us to love, let’s learn from each other instead of tearing one another down because we don’t align on nuanced and (practically) irrelevant aspects of our theology that add up to arguing whether God prefers Chiptole or Freebirds (the answer is Chipotle).
In light of this idea, a wise friend pushed up against my somewhat radical openness at the bottom of his third glass of wine: "If this is your way of navigating the world and your spirituality, what is home base? What do you point to as an authoritative guide for morality and belief?"
A fair critique.
Ultimately, not fighting for a particular belief or theology can look like fuzzy emotionalism that lets people pick and choose what works well for them because it is comfortable and familiar instead of right and healthy, like scarfing hot pockets or pop-tarts when we all know our diets should look greener and probably not come out of a box. Now don't get me wrong, there are theological ideas that we should support and defend, as well as ideas that we should vehemently oppose and condemn.
But too often we are approaching spiritual “authority” in our life as what dictates wrongdoing and rightdoing. We become so obsessed with this method of being correct that we often ignore the beauty of true religion and spirituality.
In the past, the anchor of my ethics and belief was the Bible. More specifically, a conservative evangelical interpretation of the Protestant Bible, which trumped any argument from reason, science, philosophy, experience, or tradition. But the constant scenes of misogyny, violence, and exclusion made me reevaluate the Bible as an inerrant guide to morality—I think if we’re honest with our reading of the Bible, it’s clear we can’t treat this library of books as “Basic Instructions Before Leaving Earth,” or some sort of owner’s manual that lays out strict rules on how to behave and think.
There are over 30,000 Christian denominations that have different views of what the Bible is and how to use it. Maybe this ancient library of poems, letters, and stories wasn’t meant to be a conversation ender--Something that settles the “Christian” view on homosexuality, abortion, science, history, or the death penalty. I think a better way to view the Bible is as a progressive unfolding of how a particular people group viewed and understood God—essentially, it is a piece of art that should promote conversation, community, and debate as we wrestle with how to live in this fascinating and beautiful world in the midst of doubt, confusion, and pain. I know I just spouted a gushing geyser of what some may see as heretical thinking like I was ordering a ham sandwich at Subway, but stick with me.
The Bible can be authoritative, but it doesn’t have to be inerrant.
You don’t have to justify a six-day creation,
or attack evolution when virtually every scientist argues it’s an empirical fact.
You don’t have to defend the existence of eternal conscious torment as a primary aspect of your faith in order to be part of this wild and diverse Jesus tradition
or tell our Muslim and LGBTQ brothers and sisters they’re headed there.
The Bible and our tribe’s interpretation of it isn’t the fourth person of the Trinity,
and I feel as though we are often guilty of exalting it to such a position.
But what do you cling to if the Bible isn’t telling you how to vote or how to respond to your pinko-commie philosophy professor like some gimmicky Christian film?
A tricky question, for sure.
And I think the answer is something a little unsatisfying: we must have a personal ethic that seeks to humanize everyone, fight dehumanization in any form, and cling to the grand mystery of God and capital ‘B’ Being within the context of community. Doesn’t it seem more Godly that we wouldn’t have all the answers to the pressing questions of our time? That ultimately what we should do is search our own experience, the tradition of faiths before us, and the scriptures to come to our best understanding of reality? And even then, shouldn’t we test these theories through the shared wisdom and experiences of our community?
As humans, we want certainty. We want the world to present itself in the concrete dualism of black and white. But that just isn’t reality. Life is a mess of Technicolor that needs reevaluation, rethinking, reinterpretation, and needs it constantly. Isn’t there something embedded within us that wants to embrace this type of thinking—an approach to life that sees more sophistication and enigma than simply the old and stale ideology that repeats “The Bible Tells Me So,” like a broken record that’s been stuck in a monotonous cycle of destructive and exclusive repetition for decades?
I think moving beyond this black and white thinking is the field that Rumi speaks of—a place too full to talk about—a way of living life that promotes inclusion, love, and our profound connectedness to one another despite our differences.
May we learn to sit in the tension of unknowing and mystery, and may we learn to explore this infinite landscape of life with friends as we savor a world too full to talk about.
Grace and Peace.
