The Jesus thing

The other day I happened to watch some clips of the TV coverage of Jesus and Mary a few months ago. As I said to a Christian friend, if you know them and have been to the seminars, the most gob-smacking thing was how easily the media can put any slant they like on what a person says.  I also thought that if I had seen it with no prior knowledge I reckon I too may have judged him as a dreadful man who was totally mad and of malicious intent. Sad really.  The few words they did show him saying were too brief to really allow an understanding of any concept, and a lot was made of people watching him in tears, in such a way as to suggest that they were being brow-beaten. One thing that gets to me is how easily we are all influenced by preconceived notions, by the judgement or persuasive words of others.

A couple of months ago, as a footnote to an assignment, I couldn't help but put forward an argument which still has as much meaning for me now. I was speaking to those who I felt had a firm belief in God, and perhaps equally firm, a belief that Jesus is God and that when he comes he will look and act very 'Godlike', which seems to me one important reason why they automatically reject the idea that a man on their TV screens could be Jesus.

Here's what I wrote:

 

I was reminded of how I feel about the Second Coming, given that as far as I know people base their beliefs exclusively on what they have read in the Bible and we know this was never meant to be read literally. I wonder if we are at times too specific about what we expect based on what we understand from the Bible.

What if the return of Jesus is not what we expect? Many have this idea, which they will justify with reference to scripture, that Jesus will return in glory, as God, and that they will be judged according to their lives and works, or something like that. But what if we have misinterpreted scripture through its translations and the change in meaning that happens to words over the centuries? Did Jesus in the original translations ever say he was God? Or just the son of God, and that we are all brothers and sisters, also children of God. He constantly referred to God as his Father. Saying "I am the Way, the Truth and the Life" could as easily be said by, say, the first person who had found the Way, The Truth and Eternal Life and wanted to teach others how to do likewise. Could it be that following his death people came to believe he must be God, through hearsay of his life and works, or through not understanding perfectly what he was getting at, or what was meant by those who wrote the scriptures?

So perhaps we could be open to the possibility that Jesus will return as a man, still a child of God, still chosen to be the messenger of truth, albeit the one who has developed the closest relationship with God by virtue of his love for God and his brothers and sisters. Perhaps we could evaluate those who proclaim themselves to be Jesus on the amount of love and truth they convey, be open to more than the one widely accepted idea of a God returning in full and unmistakable glory, accepting humbly that we may not know the Jesus of the New Testament as well as we think we do, knowing also that our Father is a master of the unexpected. Many in the first century were not convinced that a humble Nazarene carpenter could possibly be the Messiah and only those without firm preconceived notions and those sincerely seeking the Truth however indigestible were able to see in him their Messiah, their messenger of truth. How many at the Second Coming will make the mistake that the majority of those who heard about and met Jesus in the First Century made? Here is surely a matter about which we could pray to God, to show us in our hearts who the Messiah is when he comes – perhaps like a thief in the night.

Anger and me

I'm quite demanding when it comes to being heard by men. And I feel that I'm not unlike several female ancestors; there's this feeling I believe we share that in order to muffle my sense of inferiority to men I want to argue my point – and I want to win.

This year I have been doing a course necessary to allow me to work as a hospital chaplain in Queensland public hospitals. This has involved a great deal of theory work as well as visiting patients as a student chaplain. Before embarking on the course I made it very clear to the course director and coordinator about my beliefs regarding God, and Jesus not being God, and, as it was a multi-faith course, it was felt not to be an impediment to my participating. I was cautioned not to proselytise and readily agreed as I too want to correct this tendency in me (or so I tell myself!)

I like writing; I feel I can express myself better than when I speak. I have enjoyed doing my written work during the course; reflecting on patient interactions and on course material is quite satisfying now I understand a little bit about the principles of love and truth as taught by Jesus and Mary. And after years of uncertainty about the truth, I find it pretty exciting to discuss what I finally feel very sure about.

But in the last few days I have been made aware that I have upset a few people. One assignment in the Ethics module asked that I choose two or three people from my parish or any other large group who impressed me as examplars of good health, describe them, commenting on whether they have any health problems as well as strengths and what impresses me about them. My choice was easy. I wrote about Jesus and Mary as I believe that they are the two healthiest people on our planet at this time.

I don't think I will mind if I am asked to leave the course, feeling somewhat unsure about whether I am benefiting anyone in my role as hospital chaplain. I'm not worried about upsetting people by saying what I believe to be the truth. But is there an angry component in here for me? The lecturer who marked the assignment and reacted strongly to what I said and then reported his concerns to the course director was a man who irritated me because he would not allow free discussion during his classes. My father was a man who held strong, and in my opinion often bigoted, views and I very much feared his rage should anyone dare to contradict him.

I looked forward to responding to the concerns voiced by the director. I wanted to point out that I had answered the question accurately and truthfully; I wanted to justify my position and I wanted to win the toss. I didn't want to use this opportunity to feel my long-held anger at men because I don't want to feel inferior. It may be that this anger is why I don't mind upsetting others when I speak my truth, which makes it, interestingly, an unloving thing to do. As always, the question comes back to: what is my motivation in speaking the truth?

And when it came down to writing the letter, on re-reading it I found I had been almost completely conciliatory. True, I had initially said what was on my mind, but then I'd gone back and taken out anything that might result in their being angry at me. And I'd couched everything in the most politically correct way you can imagine. Interestingly, all it did was increase my resentment towards those running the course.

It occurs to me that there's no running away from my anger. I can write and re-word and distract myself (I tried four times unsuccessfully to get through to a government body on the phone after writing my letter, waiting ages on hold and having to listen to that same old tune over and over!) and whinge to my friends about the issue all I like, but in the end that nubbin of anger still sits in my belly. Reminding me that there is only one effective way to remove it permanently.