Today I have brought in my bible, which I requested as a gift for graduating high school. It is embarrassingly underutilised, and I wish I could blame the accessibility of online translations. But I’ve brought it up here because it is a parallel bible, and shows each verse as both the NIV translation, which was the norm in my childhood, and the Message translation, which is known for being a tonal translation more than a literal one. This is something I requested because my mum’s bible is like this, and I really liked it.
Part of why I like having both is that I feel that being asked to sit with the imprecision of translation is good for us. Our protestant tradition is built on the legitimacy of translation, of access, and I would argue that that can be a graceful reminder of the complexity, of the historical context, of the living word.
As well as the value of being reminded that our holy text is very old and very alive, I think that the differences of translations can add something to the reading. Blue and red 3D glasses are low tech compared to whatever is going on in the cinema world nowadays. But I think we understand how they work: We have two offset versions of the same image – one visible through the blue lens, one through the red, and when wearing one on each eye we can see a depth that wasn’t there before.
All of that is the long way to say, I am going to read some of the verses we have already had today, but in two translations.
To begin: Micah 6:8.
[CEV] The Lord God has told us what is right and what he demands: “See that justice is done, let mercy be your first concern, and humbly obey your God.”
[Message] But he’s already made it plain how to live, what to do, what God is looking for in men and women. It’s quite simple: Do what is fair and just to your neighbour, be compassionate and loyal in your love, and don’t take yourself too seriously—take God seriously.
This is a beautiful striving goal. It is so simple, and it is so hard. Summarised on a T-shirt Bec has as “do justice, love mercy, and humbly obey your God.”
And when we put on our 3D goggles, I think that overlapping the last clause is especially interesting. At first glance, “don’t take yourself too seriously—take God seriously” feels flippant compared to the solemnity of “humbly obey your God”. But I have spoken before about my belief that taking yourself too seriously is the opposite of humility, and is a very comfortable form of pride for a lot of us. So if we, as a church, had become comfortable with a form of obeying God which performed piety well, but did so to stoke our own egos then seeing both translations is a reminder that that is not humble.
Similarly, linking a definition of “obeying God” to “taking seriously” creates a lot of questions around both those terms. Can you flippantly try to obey God? How do you avoid that? Can you take God seriously and disobey them? When someone appears to take God seriously and disobeys them, which clause is up for reconsidering: are they not serious or not disobeying?
And the deeper question which is sitting in the service with us today, sitting in all of today’s readings: What does it mean to take God seriously? What does it mean to obey God? What does your faith ask of you?
There will be no compulsory discussion time, no writing down, but I would like you to ask yourself this. What does your faith ask of you? Does it ask anything of you?
For now, we will move to the Galatians reading. I encourage you to have a speedy google for the message translation of the whole of Galatians 5, because you can really hear Paul’s frustration. But we will start with what is one of my favourite verses, in its message form, Galatians 5:25-26.
[CEV] God’s Spirit has given us life, and so we should follow the Spirit. But don’t be conceited or make others jealous by claiming to be better than they are.
[Message] Since this is the kind of life we have chosen, the life of the Spirit, let us make sure that we do not just hold it as an idea in our heads or a sentiment in our hearts, but work out its implications in every detail of our lives. That means we will not compare ourselves with each other as if one of us were better and another worse. We have far more interesting things to do with our lives. Each of us is an original.
For me, there is value in this verse affirming that my faith does ask something of me. That it is not only an idea in my head or a sentiment in my heart. That it has implications for every detail of my life. So for me the question of “what does our faith ask of us” cannot be “nothing”.
But I feel that sometimes in progressive spaces it can be simpler to function as if our faith asks nothing of us. This is a defensive reaction to the legacy of shame in the church. Shame is a consuming emotion. It takes us over. Unlike guilt, which says “I did something bad”, shame says “I am bad”. And that is a paralytic emotion.
This faith of Christianity, and the bible itself, can be effective purveyors of shame. Verses like these today included.
So to add to your question list: Does your faith shame you? Presently? Has faith previously been a cause of shame? Does that shame still live in you?
Popular psychology today, and the progressive church, tend to be in general agreement that shame is bad. That it hurts the people who are experiencing it, and if others have been hurt by them, then shame doesn’t promote the growth or change that would be needed to stop this. It is punishment for punishment’s sake. Shame is bad at apologising. It can be good at digging in heels. Or it can be good at self-flagellating. But not at growth and not at apology.
I believe that sometimes people use shame unintentionally. And I also believe that sometimes people use shame intentionally, without fully understanding the fire they are playing with. And I also know that strong emotions, especially that feeling of righteous fury, can make shame feel just. Appropriate. None of these origins for shame are necessarily malicious. But I believe that the seed that they plant is a burr in your foot. Nothing good. And so I am glad to see the church uproot these non-malicious sources of harm, whenever I see this.
And that can look costly. Non-shame motivations are often harder to use, harder to harness. I personally believe that that is why there are fewer young Christians in progressive Christian spaces than young conservatives in theirs: we have so successfully released people from fear and shame that they feel able to leave and so they do. (A note from this, is that if our response to people leaving is that this is inherently bad, then we risk wishing for shame.) It is far more valuable to create a place some people want to be, than to be jealous of a place many people fear to leave.
In an attempt to avoid shame, we can fall back on the idea that our faith does not ask anything of us that we would not easily want to give. Easily be able to give. But are those the only options?
Let us consider some of today’s potentially-shame-prompting verses: Galatians 5:19-21.
[CEV] People’s desires make them give in to immoral ways, filthy thoughts, and shameful deeds. They worship idols, practice witchcraft, hate others, and are hard to get along with. People become jealous, angry, and selfish. They not only argue and cause trouble, but they are envious. They get drunk, carry on at wild parties, and do other evil things as well. I told you before, and I am telling you again: No one who does these things will share in the blessings of God’s kingdom.
[Message] It is obvious what kind of life develops out of trying to get your own way all the time: repetitive, loveless, cheap sex; a stinking accumulation of mental and emotional garbage; frenzied and joyless grabs for happiness; trinket gods; magic-show religion; paranoid loneliness; cutthroat competition; all-consuming-yet-never-satisfied wants; a brutal temper; an impotence to love or be loved; divided homes and divided lives; small-minded and lopsided pursuits; the vicious habit of depersonalising everyone into a rival; uncontrolled and uncontrollable addictions; ugly parodies of community. I could go on. This isn’t the first time I have warned you, you know. If you use your freedom this way, you will not inherit God’s kingdom.
When we sit these together, with our 3D goggles on, Galatians 5 feels less like a statement of “these people are bad, they will be punished”, and more a genuine acknowledgement of causality. Saying “trying to get your own way all the time leads to loneliness” isn’t shame, necessarily, it is guilt. These verses do not have to be a list of ways to be a bad person. They can instead be inviting us to live a life that is kinder to ourselves and others.
I believe that my faith will ask things of me, including things that are not easy. But that it does so without the threat of shame. It calls me to grow, not paralyses me with my own insufficiency.
However, when we have experienced a lot of shame, any identification of guilt, causality, the consequences of our own actions can trigger shame. Or it can trigger a defensive rejection of responsibility to avoid shame. Being acclimated to shame makes it difficult for the brain to receive negative feedback as anything else.
So if, for now, your relationship to shame is such that your faith needs to ask nothing of you then I wish you an overwhelming volume of self-compassion. Maybe revisit the asks of your faith later, when they are no longer threatening.
But personally, I believe strongly that my faith asks things of me, that I am to work out its implications in every detail of my life, and that it asks things of us, as a community. I also believe that that ask is not shame. Cultivating shame in our lives and our communities harms ourselves and others. We need to be able to consider what our faith asks from us, how we are to humbly obey our God, without being driven by or resorting to shame.
Do justice, love mercy. Don’t take yourself too seriously—take God seriously.
JJ Hamilton
29 Jan 2023