I Can Still Be A Christian: From Deconstruction to Rediscovery

I Can Still Be A Christian: From Deconstruction to Rediscovery

https://calebposton.com/i-can-still-be-a-christian-from-deconstruction-to-rediscovery-caf4c352d3a3

by Caleb Poston

April 8, 2022

If you’ve kept up with trends in Christianity for the past few years, you’ve seen one word pop up pretty often: deconstruction. Both the religious-political fallout of the Trump presidency and the Covid-19 pandemic led many evangelicals to re-evaluate their faith — for better or for worse. What it means: The tenets of the Christian faith you grew up believing are being challenged, either by science, philosophy, politics, or other external realities, and you are in the process of examining those tenets to see how they hold up to the evidence. Many of them fall apart — hence the “deconstruction” of your faith.

For many, this boils down to a simple change of opinion on a few topics, primarily political or social — rarely biblical in nature — and the central tenets of historic Christianity are left intact. That’s not deconstruction to me; it’s simply changing your mind.

For some, deconstruction is more of a transition of beliefs, either doctrinal or practical — think, a Baptist becomes an Anglican, a Catholic goes non-denominational, or any other scenario. It has changed, sometimes pretty significantly, but orthodoxy is untouched.

Still, for others, the comfort of orthodox Christianity is abandoned in favor of beliefs that many would regard as heretical — though the “h-word” is more often than not thrown around too liberally and usually baselessly.

After going through deconstruction, some formerly devout Christians even opt for various forms of atheism and agnosticism; some have even adopted beliefs that are more in line with Buddhism or other eastern religions.

Regardless, it’s rare that a Christian goes through deconstruction and ends up back at the starting point.

My Deconstruction: The First Stone

I didn’t know it until I heard the term a couple of years ago, but I’ve been deconstructing my faith for a while — more like demolishing, really.

It all started on a Monday evening at Huntsville Bible College back in 2010. We had to attend an eschatology conference as part of the requirements for a course on the Book of Daniel. The course was taught by an Assembly of God professor, so the content was from a dispensationalist perspective.

Being a Southern Baptist kid who was theologically weaned on Left Behind, you can imagine my shock when the speaker, the late Rev. Dr. Wayne P. Snodgrass (an amillennial Baptist), uttered these words: “I don’t deal with the rapture because the Bible doesn’t deal with the rapture.” I didn’t realize it then, but …

that’s when the first rock fell.

A Stonemason

I’m a stonemason. I have been for my entire life. My dad was one (the best in the South), and I’ve worked with him since I was 14 — and professionally for 10 years before becoming a teacher (and on the side now even though he is technically retired). I am very familiar with this idea of “deconstructing.”

A structure is not what it used to be; perhaps it was damaged by an external factor or had settled over the years — meaning it was outdated and could no longer function as it once did — so it needed to be taken down.

My dad, brothers, and I would handle stuff like this all the time: An old fence built by slaves or Irishmen in the 18th or 19th century was falling apart, so we were called in to repair it or repurpose the stones; an old chimney stood tall with the shell of the burned house collapsing around it, so we were asked to come in and take down the chimney to preserve the stones.

I can’t even guess how many days of my life have been spent reconstructing old fences like this. In fact, when I saw this image on Shutterstock, I genuinely thought for a moment that it was a job I had worked on.

When we take apart these old stone structures, a few things happen:

• First, we assess the structure to see how we should approach it so the process (1) is safe and (2) will preserve the most stones.

• Second, we examine each individual stone as we remove it to see if it goes in the “keep” pile or “discard” pile — all structures have at least some keepers, and some keepers are so good that they get their own pile.

• Third, we move the pile of keepers to a new spot and prepare for the reconstruction phase — or storage phase, depending on the owner’s needs.

Sometimes, stones in the middle fall out, and the structure is wobbling like a Jenga tower. Just a little pressure will cause it to collapse, so it is often best to safely push the whole thing down and sift through the pile of rocks on the ground.

Back to the Conference

That’s what happened to me at the eschatology conference back in 2010. My rapture stone was knocked out of the structure of my faith, which I thought was a strong tower; alas, it was a brittle post.

The problem: That stone was smack-dab in the middle, and my structure was now rocked (pun unintended), swaying back and forth and waiting for the next rock to fall out before, eventually, collapsing.

I pulled a Dante; I got on my ship and set sail on a journey for truth — though my goal was to find “truth” that fit my beliefs and proved Dr. Snodgrass wrong, so it was really more of a journey for vengeance. I searched far and wide for proof he was wrong. I examined the stone to see if it really was what I thought it was.

Well, as my stone structure was a brittle post, my ship was a plywood raft with a torn table cloth as the sail. I set sail into territories my childhood faith had me ill-prepared to encounter.

What did I learn?

• First, the rapture isn’t accepted by all or even the majority of Christians (that surprised me — I really thought it was the only option).

• Furthermore, the rapture was invented by a dude (John Nelson Darby) in the mid-late 1800s; I was never told that in church growing up, and Tim LaHaye never brought it up.

• Finally, I learned that the rapture isn’t even in the Bible. Talk about rocked! (pun intended that time)

Discovering on my journey that there are dozens of passages in the New Testament in which Jesus, Paul, Peter, James, and John believed the so-called “second coming” would occur within the lifetimes of many living in the first century AD really rattled my orthodoxy.

My church leaders conveniently skipped over those passages — while skipping over Josephus and the destruction of Jerusalem in AD 70, which was a pretty significant event — or reinterpreted them to fit their belief system.

Then studying the symbolism and imagery of apocalyptic literature in the Bible, as well as the symbolism of the Temple, the New Heaven and New Earth, and my reinterpretation of the early chapters of Genesis, forced me to re-examine what would really transpire at “the end.”

I grew up believing that something like this was going
to happen to Earth — and probably in my lifetime.

My conclusions now are completely different from what I was raised to believe. In a nutshell, I believe the New Testament teaches — and history reflects — a completion of the prophetic clock in the Bible: We are in the Kingdom of Christ; the Savior has come and has indwelled his people. This is it, and that’s fine — we are still a Kingdom that should strive to make the world a better place that is more aligned with the core truth of the Gospel. Even if God does have a plan for the future (I don’t really think he does, but I digress), we don’t need to worry about it and would probably be better off if we acted like there is nothing on the prophetic horizon — it gives us more ownership and responsibility for the world’s problems.

As I said, I don’t believe how I was raised to believe, but even if I had come to the same conclusions, on my own, I still would have been pissed. Why would they hide such a treasure trove of theology from me? Were they scared?

I then thought, “What else did my church leaders hide from me? What else about my faith is wrong, or at least incomplete?”

Starting Over

That’s where René Descartes comes in. He said in A Discourse on the Method, and I paraphrase, to never accept anything that was not introduced there by reason. I realized that I didn’t really believe anything I thought I believed; I simply accepted what I had been taught and didn’t question it. I never gave any of the ideas and doctrines time to say I believed them. I simply signed the dotted line on the statement of faith and moved on with my faith.

Descartes also said to erase everything you have been taught so you can examine everything, individually, without the distraction of assumptions. That’s hard to do. But as Isaac Asimov said,

“Your assumptions are your windows on the world. Scrub them off every once in a while, or the light won’t come in.”

I started scrubbing and declared to myself, “You know what? I got a little time — I got my whole life to figure this out. I’m gonna push the whole thing down and see what survives.”

It was a mess at the beginning — rocks everywhere! But I had a hammer and chisel and a little experience, so I started chipping away one at a time. It’s hard to describe just how many stones are in a structure, and they all play an important role, but some are more important than others …

Filler Stones

Growing up in the buckle of the Bible belt meant that everyone around me was a Christian. In Lynchburg, where I grew up and still live, people typically are either Baptist or church of Christ. We even have some who are called Baptist Church of Christ since they can’t make up their minds (actually, they are unrelated to the restoration movement and are their own thing, but that’s irrelevant to this specific post).

Beyond Baptist and church of Christ folk, there ain’t much. We have some Methodists, of course, but I didn’t know a Presbyterian church was in Lynchburg until I was in my late 20s, and the only Pentecostal church nearby is about a quarter mile into Lincoln County (instead of Moore, where Lynchburg is). I’m assuming they set up shop there so people wouldn’t think they were just drunk on the local product (Jack Daniel’s). Not really. They are great people — just hyper.

Anyway, living here meant that Christian faith was a part of every day life, not just a Sunday gathering. In high school, my friends were either lukewarm Baptists or church of Christ zealots. I remember riding on the school bus to and from baseball games; we would pass the time by having theological debates. I, a Baptist at the time, would argue with my church of Christ teammates about issues like whether music should be used in church, if communion should be weekly, or if one must be baptized to be saved.

One thing I concede now (but wouldn’t even consider admitting then) is that they were far more prepared to defend their beliefs than I was. I held my own because I always find a way, even if I’m knowingly BS’ing. But it’s like their “elders,” as they called them (we even argued the terminology of pastor vs. elder), would hold a weekly class dedicated to debating Baptists — or at least knowing church of Christ doctrine inside and out. It made sense because most of them believed they were the only ones who had the truth and a one-way ticket to Heaven. I don’t think (I hope not) many believe that way anymore.

Those issues are now trivial to me. So when I knocked down my structure, those stones were placed in the “deal with later” pile. Sure, they are important (all doctrine is), but they didn’t seem as important to me when I decided to grab a hammer and chisel and really get my hands dirty with this deconstruction thing. They almost seemed irrelevant altogether, like the filler stones we use when we are building something — little stones used to fill in gaps. They have to be there, but they don’t seem as important as the ones out front for all to see, or those on the foundation.

I have ideas and thoughts about these doctrines now, but I wouldn’t have these ideas without spending more time with the other, more important stones. Other stones in this pile include things like women in ministry (I’m all for it, for the record), drinking alcohol (yes, that’s an issue even in whiskey country), Calvinism vs. Arminianism (I think both are annoying), and other issues commonly debated in the church today — to no avail.

The Second Stone

The second stone that really challenged me — on the same level, if not higher, than the eschatology stone — was the origins stone. It seemed natural and appropriate: I examined the end; now I must examine the beginning.

Just as Left Behind shaped my eschatology, Henry Morris and creation “science” shaped my view of origins. The idea that God created the world in six literal days was not something I thought was even debated in Christianity — in the academy, the Church, or anywhere else.

The only ones who disputed that truth were the atheistic evolutionists. Evolution was simply a tool of Satan and a conspiracy by atheist scientists to discredit God. That isn’t what I believed; that was reality — there wasn’t a chance to disbelieve it. The same goes for Noah’s Ark, Adam and Eve, etc. I was taught that to deny these ideas was to deny God.

I didn’t question these ideas until I really read into them.

Promises

There used to be a Christian bookstore in Lynchburg that was owned by some friends of mine (and people I went to church with for several years). It was called Promises. I would go in often as I was a single guy then; I was probably 18 or 19 and was starting to accept the “calling” to ministry.

I would check out all the study Bibles (and buy some). I would check out some of the theology books. Mostly, I would take a “Moses” staff they were selling and pretend to be Gandalf. “You shall not pass! … unless you accept Jesus Christ as your lord and savior” is probably something I would have said at that point in my life.

Like most bookstores, especially Christian ones, Promises went out of business. I left that store for the last time with some goodies: the Gandalf staff (I figured it was fate, and it still sits in my classroom, ready to be used to tell students that “they shall not pass”) and three study Bibles — the NKJV Chronological Study Bible, the NIV Archaeological Study Bible, and, most notably, the New Defender’s Study Bible by Henry Morris. I started digging …

After thoroughly studying Henry Morris’ study Bible, especially its essays, I thought, “What the heck is this crap? Why does my church believe this?” I discovered that young earth creationism (the viewpoint I thought was known as simply “biblical”) is very weak. Here is Henry Morris, the Father of Young Earth Creationism, and he is forcing everything he needs to support his belief.

I can’t remember the details, and I’ve since given the Bible away (on accident — I wish I still had it), but I remember sitting on my bed late at night, reading his essays, and thinking that Morris had a very desperate tone. He didn’t come to conclusions, either biblical or scientific, because the evidence took him there; he came to conclusions because he had to.

This part of the Bible causes a lot of problems for Christians, especially
if they get involved, in any way, with the science vs. religion debate

I decided to ignore origins for a while as I was about to begin Bible college. So this stone, although loosened a bit, was still in some way intact for a while — I hadn’t thoroughly examined it yet.

Fast forward a few years … after my rapture stone was knocked out of place and I decided to examine everything …

I eventually came back to origins. I first dipped my toes in science. I had never given evolution the time of day. We were told to ignore our science teacher, and some of us even rebelled by answering incorrectly (on purpose) any question that had anything to do with the Big Bang or evolution. But when I was older and had no pressure to ignore it, I was able to examine it without fear of it conflicting with my faith.

What I found shocked me: The “science” I was taught in church did not match the science taught by … well, actual scientists. And these scientists weren’t only atheists and anti-Christians as I had been taught; many were Christians who believed in a creator God. And they followed evidence instead of fabricating it. I knew that, once again, my childhood leaders led me astray in an important doctrine, and I had to go back to the biblical text to see what went wrong.

At this point, I was aided by scholars like Leland Ryken and John H. Walton, among others. Ryken opened up the world of biblical literature to me. I was a literature guy: I studied Tolkien, Middle English literature, poetry, and science fiction. Literature was (and is) basically “my thing.”

However, I approached the Bible with the assumption that it was written in a vacuum — that it was written by God himself and unlike anything else ever written. These guys helped me see that it was not; it is literature — ancient literature, even if it is inspired by God. And this ancient literature contains literary devices and styles that are not used anymore.

Therefore, I (and apparently my church leaders) missed them. We interpreted Genesis 1 (and 1–11) literally because (1) we, like I said, assumed that the Bible was written in a vacuum, and (2) we didn’t know what type of literature was actually present in the opening chapters of Genesis.

Following rabbit trails helped me discover the literature of Genesis. One of the first literary topics I discovered (from Walton’s Lost World series especially) is also something completely avoided by most evangelical churches: ancient near eastern literature.

You’ll never hear those words in a Southern Baptist church.

Why?

It scares them

There are too many similarities between ancient near eastern literature and biblical literature, and the dates and geographic locations also make them too connected for comfort. They wrote about their gods in similar ways, and they used many of the same literary styles.

I started to realize that the Bible is not a book of science. The Bible’s science does not match reality. But with the assumption that God wrote the Bible still deeply embedded in my emotions (albeit not in my intellect), that was a problem.

I knew that young earth creationism was bogus; I knew that I really couldn’t even fit modern science into the Bible without some extreme gymnastics, as performed by men like Hugh Ross. There had to be another way, a way that took both the Bible and modern science seriously.

Publishing

At this point (late 2019-early 2020), I started McGahan Publishing House, and I was looking to publish a book on Christian faith and science. I emailed Loren Haarsma, husband to Deborah Haarsma (president of BioLogos), and he referred me to someone who seemed too qualified for my new publishing company, but it worked out for us.

Denis Lamoureux has PhDs in theology and biology — as well as dentistry. As a trained theologian and biologist, he seemed like the perfect prospect for a book on religion and science. With his academic credentials and publishing history — several books by notable publishers, such as Zondervan, and dozens of academic articles — I assumed he was out of our league as we still had not published a book at that point.

But Denis and I hit it off, published two books, including this excellent one, and have plans for more. He liked our independence, both professionally and intellectually — we are free to explore ideas that frighten other publishers, such as the Adam and Eve story not being literal history. Publishing his work and having conversations with him have enabled me to spend even more time examining the origins issue, form connections with others in the field, and discover other thinkers and ideas in science and religion.

This led me to solidify the stances toward which I was already leaning:

• Evolution is true - like it or not.

• The global flood of Noah never happened.

• The earth is billions of years old.

• Adam and Eve were most likely not the first humans on the earth — if they even existed.

• The Bible is not a book of science.

But that’s okay, for the Bible still reveals a God who wants to commune with his greatest creation and image bearers.

And that’s what matters — having a spiritual life in which a personal relationship with God is the most important goal of a Christian.

The Third Stone — God

I thought I had it all figured out. I had the end figured out; I had the beginning figured out — the rest would fall into place. Then, at the bottom of the pile of stones sat the most important stone of all …

the cornerstone.

I thought this one was safe, but it wasn’t. It was a major stumbling block for me.

When I encountered the cornerstone during my deconstruction, it was during the height of the Covid-19 pandemic, and …

the pandemic changed me.

I started thinking a lot more about pain, suffering, and death. I wasn’t scared of dying from Covid. I was relatively low-risk, and I had it — twice. I had the OG Covid before being vaccinated and then the omicron variant after being fully vaccinated. They were both very mild for me.

However, I noticed the people who had different experiences. I saw people I care about die from it. I saw friends and acquaintances lose their spouses, parents, cousins, and grandparents. I heard about children dying from it.

That made me think about death and suffering regarding more than just Covid.

I started thinking about the 6-year old boy who drowned while on a family vacation in Florida.

I started thinking about the poor kids (in America and around the globe) suffering from hunger and extreme poverty.

I started thinking about the innocent children at St. Jude’s suffering from cancer.

I started thinking about the child victims of mass shootings.

I thought about the 12-year old boy who committed suicide because he was being bullied in school.

I started doubting God’s involvement in the world.

There is no doubt that the little 6-year old’s family was praying for a miracle, yet his lifeless body is what they found.

There is little doubt that impoverished families across the globe pray for God’s hand to intervene and feed them, yet he never comes.

Parents spend hours at the chapel altar praying for their child who has cancer, only to plan a funeral a few weeks or months later.

Every time I see a tragic story of a child or innocent person dying or suffering for no reason, I get angry. I get sad, and I sometimes cry when I’m alone, partly because it goes against everything I’m supposed to believe about an all-loving God, and partly because I project all of that suffering onto my own family and children.

I project my wife onto the young, vibrant woman who dies from Covid.

I project my children onto the little boy and girl who just lost their mommy or daddy because the ventilator malfunctioned.

I project my son onto the little baby at St. Jude’s who has no hope of survival and is suffering for no reason.

I can’t help but to think about my 6-year old daughter when I hear about the 6-year old boy who drowns — all alone and scared.

I ask, “Where are you, God?”

He never answers.

Where is God? Why can he not do more? And if he can, why doesn’t he?

The young parent of two little girls who dies from Covid because the ventilator malfunctioned — why couldn’t God prevent that from happening? No one would have known because no one thought it was broken. It was SUPPOSED TO WORK.

Why does the innocent boy at St. Jude’s, who just loves Batman and Iron Man or trucks and tractors, have to get cancer in the first place?

Why can’t God, with barely a movement, rescue the 6-year old? No one would know he did it — he wouldn’t be exposed.

Why can’t he drop some manna from Heaven to the impoverished families? Did he not do it for the Hebrews in the wilderness?

Why can’t God make a gun jam before a deranged person kills innocent children? Gun jams happen without God’s intervention!

It makes no sense. Lex Luthor seemed to be on to something:

If God is all-powerful, he cannot be all-good.

If God is all-good, he cannot be all-powerful.

Sometimes, I think I understand it, or am at peace with it, but then I just hear about someone else, someone innocent and beautiful, who dies or suffers for no reason — and with no “god” to help them. And many of these are Christian people who are suffering, people who are called “his children.” No father would let his children suffer if he had the power to step in.

I felt myself drifting toward atheism.

I didn’t like that feeling. I had devoted so much of my life to preparation for ministry. I have lived my entire life with my Christian faith as the most important thing. Giving it all up would have huge ramifications. At one point, some felt that I had a bright future in Baptist ministry. And what would it do to my family? I couldn’t even consider that. Maybe I’ll just lie about it, I thought.

I didn’t know of another way. I didn’t think there was a type of theism, especially Christian theism, that would accommodate my doubts.

Then I realized …

What if it’s not God I’m angry with, but the version of God I was raised to believe in?

I noticed that the cornerstone was the toughest of all. My chisel and hammer made some markings on it, but I couldn’t break it. It was chosen as the cornerstone for a reason — it’s tough; it’s strong enough to withstand the mightiest of strokes, and I was swinging my hammer as hard as I ever have. However, my strikes were unable to break the cornerstone because …

The stone I was striking didn’t really exist.

God is not confined to the worldview within which I framed him. My assumptions about God were assumptions I didn’t erase before going on my journey. The fog was still there.

What if we are misinterpreting God altogether?

What if God is something much different than what is defined in typical statements of faith?

What if God is something, someone much more personal?

What if our interpretation of God depends on our view of origins, or our eschatology?

What if Christian theology is a huge mess, and our idea of God is just as messy as anything else?

The idea that a transcendent, omnipresent God is out there intervening in the world, answering prayers, and unfolding a plan just simply does not match reality. There is no evidence to suggest otherwise.

But people, myself included, still experience God! What do we make of that? Human experience should matter. And in my experience, God is there; God is real. He might not intervene in ways I used to believe, but …

• he changes lives

• he inspires people to do great things

• he brings people together.

God is not without; he is within. God is not an outside force that acts for people; God is a force that acts through people — the people in whom the Spirit of God has dwelt.

The New Structure

None of the options worked for me. I was at the stone supply shop, and none of the samples fit what I had going on. And with my OCD, I had to have something — a theological system that works.

So, I decided to take my stones and build my own.

A new system that makes sense to me …

With my faith structure, I would hold myself accountable: If the world around me isn’t improving, I can blame only myself.

Instead of choosing to see God in the disaster, I choose to see God in the relief — through his people working in God’s name to help those in dire need.

Instead of praying for God to act from the outside, I pray for God to activate me from the inside.

If I can’t change the world, God can motivate me to change someone’s perception of the world. That is often as simple as saying, “Hello! How are you?” It is often as simple as giving someone a sandwich.

That should be what Christian faith is all about.

And then, I discovered some Christian thinkers I had heard about but not really given the time of day: open and relational theologians — men like Thomas Jay Oord, John Cobb, and others.

They believe and teach basically what I believe and teach, especially the parts about how God interacts in the world.

They believe in God and experience God in their lives, but they understand that life sometimes sucks, and although God doesn’t intervene as an outside force to make the world better, he does indwell us and encourage responses from us that will make the world better.

They believe and teach that though prayer does not change the circumstances around us, it does change us.

And I can work from that.

That’s where I’m working from now — using what I have learned biblically, experientially, and theologically to develop this system into something that works for me.

And I think it’s gonna work.

For the first time in a few years, I can honestly say something I wasn’t confident I would ever again be able to say …

I can still be a Christian.

Gandalf and the Open & Relational God

Gandalf and the Open & Relational God

https://calebposton.com/gandalf-and-the-open-relational-god-fa8a388906f0

by Caleb Poston

May 8, 2022

Gandalf + Open & Relational Theology = An Unexpected Analogy!

Part of what makes open and relational theology so attractive are its nuances, uncertainties, and variations. Ask any two open and relational thinkers for their view on God, and you will likely receive two answers. That makes sense, for these questions are so complex as to essentially demand different solutions.

Sometimes, we need to get creative to answer them; we might even need to travel to another world.

That’s what I’m going to do here. I’m going to take a little trip to Middle-earth and use Middle-earth’s favorite wizard, Gandalf, to attempt to explain how the open and relational God works.

DISCLAIMER: Tolkien was not fond of allegory, and he had no allegorical intent with his writings. Therefore, I’m not suggesting an allegorical interpretation of Gandalf; I’m suggesting literary application—an approach that Tolkien approved for his readers.

An Emissary

The first comparison to make between Gandalf and God, especially God from an open and relational perspective, is the manner in which both came to Middle-earth/Earth to interact with people. Gandalf isn’t just a regular person in Middle-earth who happened to learn magic; he is an emissary sent to Middle-earth by the deities and spiritual hierarchy in Arda (the entire world in which Middle-earth is located).

Wizardry in Middle-earth isn’t like other stories: People can’t go to Hogwarts and learn how to be a wizard. No, wizards in Middle-earth are part of an exclusive class of spiritual beings known as the Maiar, primordial spirits that work directly with the Valar and their king, Manwë. They are able to take physical form in Middle-earth and have done so in a variety of ways, both good and evil. Some examples of evil Maia in Middle-earth include the balrogs of Morgoth and Sauron himself.

In the Third Age of Middle-earth, five of these Maia were sent by the Valar (basically the “angels” of Arda) to Middle-earth to take the form of wizards. This group of wizards was called the Istari (or in Quenya, “ones who know”). The Istari included Saruman the White, Radagast the Brown, the blue wizards Alatar and Pallando, and, last in this list but certainly not least in the Istari pecking order, Gandalf the Grey. According to Tolkien‘s writings and letters, Gandalf was the only one who fulfilled his purpose, which was to rally the free peoples of Middle-earth to contest the will of Sauron.

Gandalf was sent by Manwë to take the form of a wizard and contest the will of Sauron. Gandalf was a spiritual being, and he emptied himself of the glory in Valinor so that he could participate in the world he helped create. And he participated in various ways: as a counselor, a teacher, a warrior, a friend, and a leader — different roles for different people. He took physical form and experienced pain, hunger, emotions, love, anger, fear, etc. — I think you know where I’m going with this (but not yet).

God has also interacted in the world in various ways. He created the world (as Gandalf took part in the world’s creation), he revealed himself as a cloud and burning bush, and, ultimately, he emptied himself of his glory and took physical form (like Gandalf) as Jesus of Nazareth. As Jesus, he experienced pain, hunger, emotions, love, anger, fear, etc. And he wasn’t coercive—he inspired people to live for the kingdom through his words and actions. He, like Gandalf, played various roles: counselor, teacher, son, friend, and leader.

Relational

Gandalf was known throughout Middle-earth. The elves knew him and called him Mithrandir; men called him Gandalf; people in the south called him Incánus, and dwarves knew him as Tharkûn. They knew him because he went out of his way to know them. He formed relationships with them—all people from all races in Middle-earth.

Gandalf spent time in the holes of the Shire, and smoked their pipeweed; Gandalf spent time in the halls of the dwarves. He studied in the library of Gondor and rested in the forests and valleys of Rivendell and Mirkwood. And Gandalf likely drank in the great mead hall of Edoras. He went out of his way and traveled far and wide to form relationships with the people he came to counsel, guide, and, in some way, save.

God, like Gandalf, goes out of his way to know us. He meets us where we are and forms personal relationships with us. And people know him by many names: Jesus, Lord, God, Father, Ancient of Days, Yahweh, Jehovah, etc. Some open and relational thinkers propose that God reveals himself to all people, and all the world’s gods, in some way, point to God. They all know him as different names: God, Allah, Krishna, etc. Regardless, God is not bound by geography, cultural background, or race—God, like Gandalf, seeks to know all people and form lasting relationships with them.

Behind the Scenes

As a member of the Istari, Gandalf was not sent to overpower evil in Middle-earth and bend it to his will; he was sent to counsel the freepeople of Middle-earth and guide them toward decisions that weaken the enemy and defend the freepeople. He was not allowed to display his full power as a Maia during his time with the people of Middle-earth. Consider this passage from “The Istari” in Unfinished Tales …

“Emissaries they were from Lords of the West, the Valar, who still took counsel for the governance of Middle-earth, and when the shadow of Sauron began first to stir again took this means of resisting him. For with the consent of Eru they sent members of their own high order, but clad in bodies of as of Men, real and not feigned, but subject to the fears and pains and weariness of earth, able to hunger and thirst and be slain; though because of their noble spirits they did not die, and aged only by the cares and labours of many long years. And this the Valar did, desiring to amend the errors of old, especially that they had attempted to guard and seclude the Eldar by their own might and glory fully revealed; whereas now their emissaries were forbidden to reveal themselves in forms of majesty, or to seek to rule the wills of Men and Elves by open display of power, but coming in shapes weak and humble were bidden to advise and persuade Men and Elves to good” (emphasis mine).

See that? Gandalf (and all the Istari) were in Middle-earth to counsel, not coerce. They were forbidden to display their full power; they did not come to rule while in physical form. They were there to advise and persuade people to make their own decisions that would make the world a better place.

When God revealed himself as Jesus Christ, he didn’t display his full power. He suffered, was bound by time, got tired, and went through every human emotion. Sure, he walked on water, turned water into wine, and rose from the dead, but Gandalf talked to animals, made magic fireworks, and … also rose from the dead. Gandalf, like Jesus, bent the rules and displayed power, but only in certain circumstances. Jesus was similar: Remember, he could have summoned angels to save him from his death (Matthew 26:53), but he didn’t. He did not display his full power.

In open and relational theology, God (like Gandalf) doesn’t coerce his people. Through his indwelling presence, he guides, counsels, and leads his people to make decisions that will bring glory to God. He, like Gandalf, has a purpose, he has plans he would like to see come to fruition, but his people must see those plans through, and God’s presence (as counselor, guide, motivator) helps to advise and persuade people to make their own decisions that make the world a better place.

Not a Helicopter Leader

Gandalf was more qualified to handle the conflicts and problems of Middle-earth than anyone else—maybe even elves like Galadriel and Glorfindel. But Gandalf, like the open and relational God, also gave his followers room to grow on their own. He stepped back and let them figure it out through their own strength and will. When Gandalf left Bilbo, Thorin, and the dwarves at the edge of Mirkwood in The Hobbit, he was leaving them in a difficult situation. Gandalf undoubtedly would have made that situation much easier, but by leaving, he forced Bilbo to grow and step up as the leader.

I feel that God, especially from the open and relational perspective, steps back and lets us get through difficult situations on our own. We go through sickness; we go through death and grief. We experience hardship financially, emotionally, spiritually, physically—almost every possible way. An all-powerful God could theoretically step in and solve all of our problems. But perhaps something restrains him?

The deities that sent the Maia, Olórin (Gandalf), sent him with a specific rule that he could not display his full power. Perhaps God has his own rule preventing him from displaying his full power, instead letting human free will run its course and guiding and counseling rather than forcing and coercing. It is better for God to guide us to make good decisions on our own than for God to coerce humanity into the outcomes he desires. Perhaps God’s central attribute, love, prevents him from this level of coercion—an idea Thomas Jay Oord thoroughly explores in his books God Can’t and Pluriform Love. Gandalf is in the same boat: Gandalf could act in his full power, but he can’t.

Fights the Battles We Can’t Face

Gandalf participated in and led some talented and powerful groups: Thorin and Company, the Fellowship of the Ring, and the White Council. The latter was a group of equals and superiors to Gandalf, but the first two consisted of regular men, elves, dwarves, and hobbits—to them, Gandalf was a god among men. Along the way, Gandalf defeated enemies that were beyond the abilities of the company he was with. For example, when Gandalf abandoned the company at the edge of Mirkwood in The Hobbit, he wasn’t scared of the flies and spiders; he was fighting a battle that needed to be fought but was beyond the abilities and power of his company. He, along with the White Council, was driving the Necromancer out of Dol Guldur to protect the North from the growing shadow.

In The Fellowship of the Ring, the first volume of The Lord of the Rings, Gandalf and the Fellowship face an ancient balrog in the Mines of Moria. As the group is trying to escape the mines, they hear the roar and see the flames of this demonic enemy. Those who have seen the film will remember Gandalf saying,

“This foe is beyond any of you. Run!”

The balrog was beyond Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Boromir, and all of them combined. But he wasn’t beyond Gandalf—and Gandalf knew that. He knew that he needed to use his power to defeat this ancient foe, which was the same spiritual entity (Maiar) as Gandalf. Gandalf defeated this foe, and he died in the process—though he was resurrected as Gandalf the White.

Likewise, the open and relational God doesn’t coerce, instead guiding and counseling through a personal relationship with his people, but he does and has fought the battles we, as mere humans, are fundamentally unable to face. The first example that comes to mind is Jesus defeating the greatest foe: death. Death now has no sting; death now has no power. But death’s defeat had nothing to do with us; it had all to do with the God, Jesus, who knew that it was beyond us. He defeated the foe, but he died in the process. However, like Gandalf, he rose again in robes of white, and he, just as Gandalf the White did for his friends and followers, gave us access to an even more powerful ally.

Conclusion

In my opinion, Gandalf is a powerful example of the open and relational God. He emptied and humbled himself of his glory to experience life like us so that he could truly relate with us. He guides us and counsels us to good decisions and good works. He doesn’t coerce us, and, consequently, the future is open to the future we create. It could go well; it could be delayed by struggles, trials, and tribulations, but God is always there, within us, guiding us and empowering us to make the world a better place. God, like Gandalf, has fought the most important battles—the battles we could not face. And his victory and resurrection has given us access to the power we need to act on his behalf and partner with him as we renew the Earth.

Someone once said, “We all need a little Gandalf on our shoulder.”

Fortunately, as Christians, we do have a little Gandalf on our shoulder.

Recommended: Authored Works by Steve Thomason

Illustration by Steve Thomason

Author & Illustrator Steve Thomason

Illustration by Steve Thomason

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The people suffered under two oppressive systems. On the one hand they lived under the shadow of the Mighty Roman Eagle and the "Good News" of peace on Earth through the military power of the lord and savior, Caesar. On the other hand they suffered the judgment and condemnation of the religious elite that believed Jehovah's grace was only large enough for law abiding Jews. The radical teacher from Nazareth, named Jesus, came to tear down both of these destructive systems and offer an alternative way of being. He offered a new kind of kingdom where love, mercy, and forgiveness was the path to true life. In this study you will follow Jesus' life story as it is recorded in the four gospels of the New Testament - Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. All four Gospels have been combined to create one continuous story. The study is divided into 15 Sessions with 5 lessons each. On your own you will read the text, answer the study questions, and chew on the 'food for thought'. There is also a "just for kids" section to involve the whole family. Ideally you will gather with others in a small group or house church to discuss your findings and encourage each other to follow the teachings of Jesus.

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The Gospel of Matthew tells the story of Jesus. 

Jesus was a Jewish teacher who was not afraid to speak truth to power, challenge social boundaries, and show unconditional love to all people, regardless of status. Jesus' life, teaching, death, and resurrection are both the fulfillment of what the Hebrew prophets foretold and the promise of God's coming Kingdom.

This graphic novel version of the Gospel of Matthew invites you to enter Jesus' story as one of the crowd who listens to his teaching, watches what he does, and stands amazed.

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The Gospel of Mark tells the story of Jesus.

This rabbi from Galilee steps onto the public scene and declares, "The Kingdom of God has come near! Repent and believe the Good News!" He then backs up his words by casting out demons, healing the sick, and confronting corruption in the religious establishment.

This graphic novel style depiction of the Gospel of Mark invites you to watch, listen, and make up your own mind about this teacher and healer from Nazareth.

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Read through the Gospel of Luke as a graphic Novel in 24 full-color pages. The Gospel of Luke tells the story of Jesus from the perspective of a defender of the poor, the weak, and the outcast. It begins with Jesus' humble birth in a stable and ends with his death on a cross and his resurrection from the dead.

The Gospel of Luke tells the story of Good News on the Way. One unifying theme is travel. Joseph and Mary travel from Nazareth to Bethlehem for an Imperial census. Jesus and his disciples travel across the Galilean countryside proclaiming the Kingdom of God. Jesus travels to Jerusalem and offers teachings about the Kingdom of God on the Way. The story ends with the resurrected Jesus walking alongside two disciples on the way to Emmaus and giving a summary of the Good News.

Luke also contains unique stories, not found in the other Gospels. Jesus is born in a stable and laid in a manger while the angels appear to shepherds in the field. We meet Jesus as a twleve-year-old boy debating with the teachers in the Temple. Jesus offers parables of the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the lost son.

Jesus is a poor traveling teacher who exalts the lowly and brings down the self-inflated. He bucks against his cultural norms and highlights the importance of women, children, foreigners and outcasts. No one is outside of God's love, and all who are lost will be found.

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The Acts of the Apostles is the continuing story of the Gospel of Luke. Jesus leaves his disciples and gives them the Holy Spirit so that they can carry on the work of the Kingdom for him. Read and observe as this first generation of Jesus' followers wrestle with how to present his message across cultural boundaries.

This study was originally written in the spring of 2005 for a network of house churches called Hart Haus. Each week the members of the community would commit to spend 5 days studying the designated passage of scripture and then share what they learned with the group when they gathered in the various homes on Sunday.

Originally, this was designed to be a 12-week study, with 60 daily lessons. You may choose to follow the fast-paced, 12-week study, or you may choose to slow down and spread it out over a longer period of time. To facilitate a more flexible format, this version is structured around Sessions, and Lessons rather than Weeks and Days. Feel free to use whatever method fits best with your group's needs.

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Jesus' teachings turned the world upside down. He told people to love each other, no matter who they were. That sounds good on the surface, but it can be extremely challenging to live out in everyday life. From the very first moment of its existence, the church struggled with this basic principle. People who had been enemies for generations were now asked to love each other. Jews loving Gentiles? Men treating women with respect? Owners honoring workers? Rich people equal with the poor? Emperial citizens sharing with barbarians? You've got to be kidding. Sound familiar? After 19 centuries we still struggle with racial, gender, religious, and class issues. That's where Paul's letters can be helpful. Born a Roman citizen, trained under the best Jewish Rabbi, and schooled in Greek culture, Paul learned to become "all things to all men." His mission was to bridge the gap between cultures and show people how to follow Jesus' teachings in everyday life. True, he lived in a different time, and his specific solutions might not fit exactly in our culture, but the spirit behind Paul's instructions ring true in our world. This 16-week Bible Study will help you eavesdrop on conversations between Paul and the people that he loved and led, so you can glean valuable lessons for how to follow Jesus' teachings today.

Christianity in Process - Part 2b, Andrew Schwartz

Introduction - Christianity in Process: Joining God in World Solidarity

Part 1 - The Authority of Scripture - John Cobb

• Part 1a - Authority, Atonement, Abortion, and a Big Hug - Thomas Jay Oord

• Part 1b - The New Evangelicals - Tim Whitaker

Part 2 - God's Incarnation in Jesus - John Cobb

• Part 2a - Theology in Process - Catherine Keller

• Part 2b - Panentheism, Pluralism, & Ecological Civilization - Andrew Schwartz

Part 3 - Divine Relationality - John Cobb

• Part 3a - Flowing with the Living God - Donna Bowman

• Part 3b - The Becoming of a Lutheran Queer Eco-Process Theologian from North Dakota - Jacob Erickson

Part 4 - The Human Experience of God: Law & Grace - John Cobb

• Part 4a - Aesthetic Religion - Jon Gil

• Part 4b - The Mighty Thor & God the Butcher - Ryan Does

Part 5 - The Kingdom of God - John Cobb

• Part 5a - Theology in an Event-Filled World - Joseph Bracken

• Part 5b - Process Theology Q&A - Thomas Jay Oord

Part 6 - Life After Death - John Cobb

• Part 6a - Everyday Mysticism & the Wisdom of Brother Lawrence with Carmen Butcher & Mike Morrel

•  Part 6b - Confronting Whiteness - Ben Boswell

* * * * * * *

Andrew Schwartz: Panentheism, Pluralism,

and Ecological Civilization

by Tripp Fuller

June 13, 2022

Dr. Andrew Schwartz is a scholar, organizer, and social entrepreneur. He is Executive Director of the Center for Process Studies and Assistant Professor of Process Studies & Comparative Theology with Claremont School of Theology at Willamette University, as well as Co-Founder and Vice President of the Institute for Ecological Civilization.

Andrew is Affiliated Faculty with the Center for Sustainability and Environmental Justice at Willamette University. His current work includes comparative religious philosophy, as well as the role of big ideas in bringing about systems change for the long-term wellbeing of people and the planet.

In our conversation we discuss…

• how Andrew found Process thought

• Andrew brings up Carmen’s the Champion…this is what it looks like in action

• process style philosophy of religion

• process style panentheism (we discuss it more here)

• religious pluralism in process & the relations between wisdom traditions (we discuss it more here)

• why process theism is more biblical than classical theism

• Cobb’s contribution to interreligious dialogue – deep pluralism & mutual transformation

• Andrew’s initial thoughts on becoming a parent

• Current research projects at the Center for Process Studies

• The creepy troll & hidden rooms

Podcast with Tripp Fuller & Andrew Schwartz

https://trippfuller.com/?powerpress_pinw=36425-podcast

Christianity in Process - 2a, Catherine Keller

Introduction - Christianity in Process: Joining God in World Solidarity

Part 1 - The Authority of Scripture - John Cobb

• Part 1a - Authority, Atonement, Abortion, and a Big Hug - Thomas Jay Oord

• Part 1b - The New Evangelicals - Tim Whitaker

Part 2 - God's Incarnation in Jesus - John Cobb

• Part 2a - Theology in Process - Catherine Keller

• Part 2b - Panentheism, Pluralism, & Ecological Civilization - Andrew Schwartz

Part 3 - Divine Relationality - John Cobb

• Part 3a - Flowing with the Living God - Donna Bowman

• Part 3b - The Becoming of a Lutheran Queer Eco-Process Theologian from North Dakota - Jacob Erickson

Part 4 - The Human Experience of God: Law & Grace - John Cobb

• Part 4a - Aesthetic Religion - Jon Gil

• Part 4b - The Mighty Thor & God the Butcher - Ryan Does

Part 5 - The Kingdom of God - John Cobb

• Part 5a - Theology in an Event-Filled World - Joseph Bracken

• Part 5b - Process Theology Q&A - Thomas Jay Oord

Part 6 - Life After Death - John Cobb

• Part 6a - Everyday Mysticism & the Wisdom of Brother Lawrence with Carmen Butcher & Mike Morrel

•  Part 6b - Confronting Whiteness - Ben Boswell

* * * * * * *

Christianity in Process

Joining God in World Solidarity

https://trippfuller.com/2022/06/07/catherine-keller-theology-in-process/

by Tripp Fuller

June 7, 2022

I am so pumped to have Catherine Keller back on the podcast and helping to kick-off our new HBC class – Christianity in Process (which starts this week). This conversation is peak zest!

In this conversation we discussHow Catherine Keller found Process theology via John Cobb’s Christ in a Pluralistic Age

• the problem of evil and suffering

• the Omnipotent deity inspiring atheism

• the lure of Whitehead’s vision for Keller

• at the intersection of process feminism & panentheism

• why Creation Out of Nothing isn’t Biblical – shout out to The Face of the Deep: a Theology of Becoming

• Keller shares about the process of teaching Process Theology

• what is theopoetics?

• the presence and purpose of God in the midst of suffering

• what is role of mystery for the theologian?

• Catherine’s love of Nicholas of Cusa – shout out to Cloud of the Impossible: Negative Theology and Planetary Entanglement

• reflecting on the participatory language of the New Testament

• We learn about Catherine’s fascination with the Apocalypse – shout out to Facing Apocalypse: Climate, Democracy and Other Last Chances: Climate, Democracy, and Other Last Chances

• Prophecy is NOT Prediction – it is a dream reading!

Catherine Keller is George T. Cobb Professor of Constructive Theology in The Graduate Division of Religion of Drew University.

If you are new to Catherine Keller and Process Theology this is the book to start with – On the Mystery: Discerning Divinity In Process.

Katherine Keller joins Christianity in Process

Previous Podcasts with Catherine Keller

• Apocalyptic #ProcessParty with Catherine Keller & Jacob Erickson

• Theological Possibilities with Catherine Keller

• God-ish?:Logos of Theos in a (Seriously) Uncertain Time
• on Cloud of the Impossible

• Catherine Keller on Process, Poetry, & Post-Structuralism

• Theology for the People: Keller, Cobb and God

• The Birth of God and a new JC – part 2 Keller AAR

• Keller-riffic + Caputo Tells Pete the “lack” is BS

Catherine Keller is George T. Cobb Professor of Constructive Theology in The Graduate Division of Religion of Drew University. 

If you are new to Catherine Keller and Process Theology this is the book to start with - On the Mystery: Discerning Divinity In Process.

* * * * * * *

PARTIAL TRANSCRIPT (unedited)

Helen, to kind of, you know, in a sense Luer everyone does spend more time with them.

Yeah, thank you that interrupt me if I go on too long.

You interrupt you. If you talk about like its concept of God and what the Lord view if I do that, Catherine, I will have to ground myself. Alright. I just want to say no, all day long. I was like, I'm going to ask this question I want you to ask it, but what about me? We'll see what the initial aim is.

Yes, right. So I should say just, you know, in terms of that, that this background motivations and experience of the contradiction with suffering was was big. After that period of my life by the time I was finishing high school, I had become a feminist that was then in the early 70s, and, and light and I went to seminary as a feminist and because I got some signal that there was something called feminist theology that was just beginning. Like the first book, by Rosemary Radford, Ruth was out. There was Mary Daly's, beyond God the Father that exploded just as I went to seminary. So the feminist question the criticism of God as a big patriarch and heaven, that was already really important to me before process thought, and I was drawn to mysticism, and that that was that was before so this just to have that forcefield clear that that that then was really needing an understanding of God if I was going to stay a Christian that was not about the divine patriarch and his super son. And so I, I was very fortunate to encounter through this divine era us this opening into Whitehead and then to John Cobb, a whole new understanding of the god world relationship, and I am quite comfortable calling it pan and theism I think John Cobb doesn't really like to use that language so much, but it's not a deep disagreement but the notion of pan and theism and that all is within God fits I think, with my mystical sensibility, you know, sort of this, this divine infinity in which everything lives and breathes and has its being, though most of us are pretty unconscious of it most of the time at this time. So that that basic sense of all being in God and God, therefore being in all and all things, beer and all things in some interestingly, endlessly varied and perspectival way that's very mystically meaningful to me. And I found I found that in in this process, vision of the relationship of God to the world

relationship that's beginningless and endless, and that startles people that we don't have just this sort of once for all priyad co X ne Hilo, the creation from absolutely nothing at some single point of time or at all beginning of time by an absolute, omnipotent act of will. That's the traditional view. I've written a whole book demonstrating that it's not the biblical view, and that it's not the process view. basis the deep looks at that second verse of Genesis says there's no nothing there. There's you there's already be Earth toe level, who the earth and a kind of freeform state and there's darkness over the face of this endless deep and there's the spirit hovering over the my in the sea, there's no nothing. There's an eternal God eternally in relationship to this potentiality and there is a point where it begins to take the form of this world, this universe and and who knows what other ones there have been our Yeah, but this one, yes. This one bangs on in and that so that that sense of, of God not creating from an absolute nothing that's crucial. In Process theology. And the world doesn't just then unfold from an absolute nothing to some absolute end. You know, the endpoint and I've written a couple of books on the apocalypse showing that the biblical apocalypse is not the end. It's the end of the book. But it's a new beginning. And it's not just some supernatural thing after everything's destroyed. No, there's lots of destruction as there has been as there will be, but it's not an absolute ending any more than an absolute beginning. And that's very Whitehead in I've just tracked it out in more biblical terms over the course of my life thinking and writing, communicating with folks. So the sense of the god world relationship is everlastingly going on that God's always entangled in some kind of creative process. And therefore, in some kind of creation might be totally different than ours might be some world with 18 dimensions or two dimensions, who knows beyond our conception, but in our world, that creative process goes on and on and on. And on billions of years. We do know about, you know about how billions of likely galaxies now as well. So it's an almost unfashionably creative unfolding. But what some meaningful about it is it's not just the absolute controlling you know, starting point moving to the absolute controlling final judgment and then supernatural you know, bliss, that that's too simple that there is this creative involvement that characterizes the whole the whole divine process with the world right versus pride picks up that chaotic early formative art in my in my family life, and this process with, with Whitehead is never purely orderly. As he said, Yeah, so complexity for him emerges at the edge of chaos. And that's just like Genesis one, two, because the toe goes right there by those right there. So that bit me personally in my life, this sense that this divine creative engagement is at the edge of chaos. It's calling for thrush forms of Order from Chaos like I didn't know what I was going to shape in response to your question. There's a kind of watery chaos that is my mind all the time it kind of darkness over the face of it. And you ask a question, and it calls for, you know, some kind of response. And so our conversations creating its own order right now, but it's a fresh order. It's not when we have all worked out in advance. Our past work comes into what our past worlds our past stages of this relationship, but something fresh is unfolding. And maybe what we call God is is inviting that. So that's what I see happening. God is inviting and experiencing everything happening in the world. That all sounds terribly positive. And of course, a lot of things that are happening in the world are but a lot of things are not nearly as positive. It's like this conversation. There's a war going on. There's unbearable suffering in the world going on. What's so important about process theology is God's there in that in that suffering, but still calling every being suffering, that God is not the cause of that suffering. God, God has called forth and keeps calling for a very free world with increasing levels of freedom. The more complex the creature is, the more choices it has to make, the more rich the complexity of a world or have a society or have a creature. The more room for error there is, the more creative possibilities there are, the more possibilities for destruction. And so we're in a world that's way more full of destruction and then a universe where maybe there will just be little quantum electronic bursts of energy. That might be very lovely, but very vibrant. But God has apparently been interested in calling forth really interesting worlds, and apparently finds more interesting these levels, levels and levels of creative freedom. So what's important is that God seems to be encouraging the creativity but not controlling its outcomes. So that there's a shadow side the destructive potentials always there. And so this other thing that's so important in process thought, in addition to the idea of the lure, the initial aim from God is that whatever God happens, whatever, whatever happens, in response to God's moment by moment, call to every creature mostly unconsciously, whatever happens in response, God feels it. God doesn't just know it. God isn't just some cognitive apparatus of the universe. God is moved by everything that happened. So we hear it's not Aristotle's unmoved mover, mover, but Charles Hart so we're in dunk Hobbs teachers. Most moved roofer God is moved by everything that happens God that which means God is affected. God feels whatever happens and that means that God suffers with those who suffer. So God, God doesn't fix it. God isn't the fix it man of the universe. That God isn't there to take control. And that's what an intervention is. God can just keep calling other preachers, others to come to support God can call for more compassion, more love than others, if they will respond, that God doesn't fix it. God calls for the repair of the world and Tikun Olam, but God doesn't. doesn't do it. But God, God feels with the feelings of the creature. So this compassionate God this is very different from the dispassionate God that so many of us have received from our traditional Christianity. So it's a it's a, it's a passionate and compassionate relationship to the world. It's not dispassionate and yet, it's passion and it's compassion. This divine engagement is never that of control. It's always that of a relation of internalization and then calling to the new moment offering the new possibility offering perhaps, a better possibility.

This is a brief technical question in a moment of God in the world interacting. How do you understand in your process perspective, the role of the past coming into it, the role of the of the luer coming towards it. And, and you mentioned in what you were saying the creatures agency that the complexity of the creature and its attentiveness, like where it's directing, it's kind of Consciousness Changes the kind of the level of responsiveness How would you describe that because I feel like that is a of one of those. I don't know, nuggets of insightfulness that when you understand how a process thinker is picturing the way the past and the possible, in some sense kiss and each moment of becoming then then you can start to work out a lot of the theology but that's one of the unique parts I think about a process pain in theism. is it's not about space, where there's some infinite space and all the finite things are in it and the nice substances wrapped up in an infinite substance. The pantheism is something that happens moment to moment all these little God world kisses and they see how much arrows of the Divine insistence finds existence in the response.

Yeah, it is a very intimate presence of the infinite in every finite moment of experience. Yeah, so it's not a great static infinite spaciality. But it's the space time of happening. About happening. Yeah. It's a cosmic habit they get there are billions times billions of happenings, but our focus is always drawn to what's happening. Here. Now, here now because here now is in some sense, receiving everything that has already happened to the universe, but from a very limited perspective. So yeah, you ask the question beautifully, it's really a question about the the past, the present and the future. Because into each each present moment of becoming which is what the creature is as what you are is it that's what I am we are moments of becoming right now. And right now and right now. So you trip are slightly different from the trip. Have a moment go at a moment ago and slightly different, not so different that we need to change our names. But there's continuity there's rigorous deep continuity, but the the for Whitehead different process thought be the actual occasion, the actual subject is the is the event here and now. That is shear present tense. But that shear present has what as its content, the whole past its whole history. So the past flows in that's our relations even you are in my past there. It takes a split second, for for my retina to my hearing to process, the wavelength, visual and auditory coming from you know that sort of anything we can see with our senses. It takes some split seconds to process so everything that is the content of the present is an influx from the past the immediate past but also the deep past mean I've already been talking about the really deep past like close to seven decades past of of my family history, my own personal participation in it. And all of that present, as is yours what you were telling me about your family vacation coming up and those plans that's already part of your family history. You know, those are plans. So we all and as part of my history now because I heard the story. So we we have the whole history of ourselves, our families, our friends, our communities, that our nations our planet as well. And our universe in some way but ever more abstract. That whole history flows kind of oceanic. We like the role of a wave into the moment that wave of the universe and its past crashes on the shores of the present moment. And so that paths we take in but we have to integrate it somehow mostly unconsciously. We can't process very much consciously. We can process some of what we're perceiving some of what we remember some of what we feel but don't consciously remember we process as much as we can, moment by moment. Sometimes we're much more limited than other times and sometimes limited by traumas or by terrible educations or by formations that screen out a whole lot. Sometimes we're gifted with the richer sense of the past, flowing in with all of its complexity. That past flows into that sheer present, and we try to do what we can to integrate it and organize it. It's called the compress. It's becoming concrete to make it concrete in this actually COVID occasion of becoming. But what's what's making that really possible well in process theology, there's that lower, there's that lower and what is that lower that lower for that is the divine calling Whisper of the Divine. Well, it's a whisper of new possibility of fresh possibility of something not already exactly realized in the past, something fresh possible here and now that will allow me to integrate that past a little better than I would on my own. If I can just somehow feel that more somehow take it in. In a way you can say God is calling us from the future.

But it's not a pre established already set future. It's God offering possibilities for a richer future. And of this, this endless artists palette of possibilities that that God carries and offers so that there's that war of the future. That that calls us to integrate the past, more meaningfully, and in a way that will then offer itself more positively more constructively. More healing like to the future so it's always an incredible dance, isn't it? Yeah. But the past and the future, that you in the present have to do but you becoming already the next, the next and the next moment of your present. So it's an incredible temporality. That is, it's just so rhythmic universe is such a rhythmic dance for Whitehead, but it's a dance of the present tense and he's taking in the endless endless corral of the past and moving towards towards future, not a preset future. That's why it's not a finalist kind of eschatology of reset endpoint, but it is its own eschatology there is constantly this calling of of the future to the President making something new out of the past.

I love that but I mean, I am not surprised I do. You just demonstrate to me that you are indeed Katharine Keller, and the way moment by moment, I know but, but there's enough coherence. Like Joe Bracken Joseph Bracken is another week where you'll get a visit with would say that you deserve the title society. You know, because of the constancy of character and the provocative response. So, in you mentioned earlier, having spent some time working at faced with a deep and the doctrine of creation, and when you describe, right the the way he just did that every moment in some sense is this is this meeting of the past and the possible futures and the creaturely contribution in the present. When you mentioned kind of the Creation out of nothing isn't even in the Bible, that implies that it you know, it showed up in the tradition for a reason. Right and and you also in that book, spend some time contrasting what's happening in Genesis with what happens in the Enuma Elish, which, I mean, I read it in high school. So I imagine a lot of people are, you know it was assigned. I wouldn't I probably didn't would have been reading pagan texts, but nonetheless, they were there. I'd love for you to take some time to talk about how, as, as a process theologian, and a feminist and someone that engages in kind of deconstructive reading of texts, how Whitehead helps you look at the actual Hebrew text in Genesis, and then the kind of criticism of abstractions and the criticism of inherited interpretations of that text. It helps you pull it back to then discover this kind of generative creativity. Why would the chaos Moston such that, in some sense, was getting echoed in your previous answer, but for those that may not be familiar with the Genesis texts, and then the connection with this historical section, is historical connections, and then the kind of criticisms that feminists bring to that depiction of power and violence and such give us an invitation to what was going on in that work.

I do find I turn to that work, often. Because Because the question of the creation is constantly with us, isn't it and it haunts many of us because we think about the creation now in its particular terrestrial forum as as very fragile and we think about it environmentally and in terms of climate change. And so it becomes important to new ways to think through the story of creation. The story of creation that a lot of us received is is thought to be biblical. It's just if you look seriously at Genesis one, it doesn't it doesn't map one to it. But you know, biblical passages are all there to be interpreted. They're rich and very ancient metaphors. So x ne Hilo is fair game as an interpretation. It's just not fair to say that it's the only possible true interpretation. But yeah, so most, most folks are taught to see a god have total power, creating everything out of nothing. And of course, it's a he God and it was a patriarchal time in human history. So I'm not saying the Bible wasn't patriarchal. It's just that it presumes the maleness to because men were in charge of the social orders and Israel would have been in big trouble. It's already big enough trouble, but it hadn't, you know, drawn on its patriarchal forces. So that's in there, the patriarchy, but very differently than say the Enuma Ailish which was very influential Babylonian texts, Babylonian, Sumerian, it were typical of other ancient texts that were or you have actual warrior Gods you have Mardu as a young warrior God that a son of Tiama to sort of original goddess giving birth to the world, but he decides to lead a revolt against her imagine that he actually leads leads a little divine army of the children of Tina to kill her to consider her a monster and to kill her and to take over the universe and that's enshrined as divine truth. And then these great civilizations, that's Samaria and Babylon. So that's truly patriarchal power warrior power of control and then he reshapes permeates the world

you know, in his own image, but you don't have the warrior creation in Genesis. You have this calling forth out of out of the chaotic room like saltwater or the town, the deep and you have bought then step by step calling for saying, Let there be let there be. It's not the language of of a commandment. It's the language of invitation. You know, let there be light, and there was light. And what does God say? He says, Oh, it's good. It's like God, react responds with, with this delight to what comes forth from God's calling. So I read it as very Whitehead, as God is luring giving out these possibilities, you know, for light and then for materialization of, of actual, planetary and stellar bodies and then for creatures of different kinds and complexities. And the elements cooperate, God asked the waters to bring forth once the waters have come forth and asked and then the Earth has come forth. I ask the earth also to bring forth creatures. So God seeks as much collaboration as possible in that creative process. And it's always calling calling and then saying, Oh, good. And then when it's all together a manifest that's the that's all. That's when God says. Very good. Some Christians grow up thinking it's because we've been created in the image of God. That's why God says very good. No, it's all things together. And God saw that it's very good, including us. Very special, interesting creatures. So you can see how I got all into that, that exegesis of that text because it seemed to suggest an alternative kind of power even though it's, you know, from about 3000 years ago, possibly, or at least 2500. And still patriarchal, but it's opening up to another understanding of power that feminist theologians could work with, you know, we didn't have to just cut ourselves off from from the biblical tradition. We could we could hear something calling there and see how it keeps calling and finds perhaps its most radically gentle voice in in Jesus of Nazareth. And how that that callings are pretty good where God's creation then in one of the parables is like, like a sea being so that's the power of God to just distribute seeds. It's a perfect image of the divine law are the seeds of possibility. are distributed, and it's up to us to respond and we might respond like stone or like hard ground or like something with thorns is the one that or we might respond like, like good Earth. And really let it let this define more. It take root in us with us. So that's sort of how I do my own feminist, you know, Christian, theological reading of the Bible in in process. terms.

One of the things that strikes me about what you just said, is in many ways, both in thinking through the parables and the way it depicts Divine Presence and activity, thinking through the Genesis, Texas that there are unspoken presuppositions that lie at the heart of most of the kind of the dominant Imperial patriarchy or friendly Christianity, right like it one of the things you do, I think, well in both of those examples is like, I mean, even the Genesis texture like well, there's, there's this see, there's the formless void, and all that's prior to anything happening. Just like you're like, Well, if you take the Bible literally right, there's all these things there God is second and then in that's not you projecting that's like just reading right in the text does not say God creates them, right the sea and the formless void but creates within them and there so in some sense, the legacy of hierarchy patriarchy this top down coercive interventionist want logic of the One Power turns the prime Okay, the primal chaos into a threat and it's not a threat to creation. It's a very place creation takes place. And I think that same kind of thing happens when you take the teachings of Jesus or you know, in the parable of the seeds, or there's so many places where the actual language of Scripture describes something that coheres much more closely to a process vision. But then those unspoken presuppositions we have, then tell us like, well, as you begin to execute this text, here are the assumptions we should be we should begin with. What has been your experience as someone that has spent years introducing kind of critical faithful reflection on the Christian tradition to future ministers at coming up against those unspoken presuppositions? It what does it mean to wrestle with them in positive ways? Because I imagine some people taking the class spending six weeks with John, hearing from different process theologians are like, Oh, I love this stuff. This is amazing. Oh, we're going to talk to Catherine's Great. Others are sitting there with those presuppositions they've internalized and assumed like this has to be and then they probably already pulled out their Bible to make sure that we weren't making that up. You know, as someone who doesn't just think process and theologically but the process of teaching Do you have do you have wisdom as to how we process undoing and thinking through those unspoken presuppositions?