Ever Interpreting…
“A story is a way to say something that can’t be said any other way, and it takes every word in the story to say what the meaning is.” -Flannery O’Connor
homo sapiens? “Wise man”? Maybe…
human being? “a person who exists”? O.k., sure…
human interpreting? That’s more like it.
Human life is a constant barrage of interpretation. We are always interpreting the world, every piece of data that we perceive, and fitting it into (or rejecting it from) our prior understandings of how things are (or should be).
How we interpret is both determined by and determinative of our identity as people and as members of larger groups. As an American I have a set of interpretive standards (such as being able to say “American” and have the world know that I mean the United States and not the other 20ish countries that are in North and South America, not to mention the Caribbean).
But interpreting the world is not just a matter of “indicatives” (what is true, what is not, what works, what is out of synch) it is also the way in which we determine what is right and wrong, and therefore how we should act. The indicatives of our identity, as individuals and as groups, bears fruit in imperatives that serve to bolster our defining narratives.
In other words, people are inherently story tellers with storied identities.
And this is why I spend so much time as a teacher, professor, and writer begging the church to get its story straight. Because the story we tell ourselves about who we are as followers of Jesus, which is inseparable from what we say about Jesus himself, will determine the things we approve of as truly indicating that we are being faithful to our Christian calling.
And, this is why I think it so important that we continually recapture the narrative dynamic of our defining Christian story, and continually insist that it is the story itself that gives us our identity.
There is an alternative that I constantly rebel against. It is the alternative of using the story as an indicator that our identity is formed by something to which the story points. The alternative of using the deeply contextualized, ever recontextualized story of God as through it’s purpose is to point to the real thing–a set of theological principles or timeless truths or or boundary marker within which we must live or legal code in accordance with which we must live our lives.
These have been the besetting temptations of the Christian tradition. Temptations to define and by defining to control.
But when we make Christianity into any of these things, we fundamentally change the metaphor of our identity. When we turn Christianity into a statement of faith we transform our identity at its core. No longer are we living out a dynamic, ever contexualized story; no longer are we following a Jesus who continues to go before us into the present; no longer are we part of a new creation that is dawning and whose light we are called to shine afresh in every corner of as-yet-unredeemed while redeemed-in-Christ old creation.
From such dynamic stories of Christian identity we end up retreating to a static frame, and our faithful ethic becomes guarding its borders. Faithful Christian practice becomes digging the trenches of our correct theology, or correct law, ever deeper with each passing generation, making the chasm between “in” and “out” ever clearer, ever broader. Faithful Christian practice becomes ensuring that those who are “out” are made fully aware of their outness–becomes guarding the boarders at all costs.
Preservation of orthodoxy becomes the identity marker of faithful Christianity, and the cruciform, redemptive, missional praxis of following Jesus becomes a nice add-on at best, or, at worst, a condemnable distraction.
Tell the story. And tell the story. And don’t forget to tell the story. This is the “transforming by the renewing of our minds” that allows us to know what the will of God is, and keeps us from conformity to the world.
It’s a transformation of mind that can see the world being turned on its head by the death died in self-giving love, and that can therefore believe that reenactment of that story will continue to change the world.
i agree with the general emphasis of your post (nicely put, by the way) but how do you counter the argument that you have just “defined” or set boundary markers, made a doctrinal statement, etc. about storytelling?
Similar to what I say to GC below, I’d say that I’m not drawing a boundary but rather articulating a way of performing. That, in fact, drawing a box is one way of performing, but that it’s a less faithful performance based on how Jesus, Paul, etc. showed us what it means to embody the story of God.
But if you still insist that I’ve set a boundary marker, then fine–and I’m right and I’ve beaten the boundary-makers at their own game and I hereby open the boundary and invite everyone to cross it together.
Or, I need to take a nap.
i don’t insist. but i don’t know what approach to take with people that do. they make a good argument and it’s hard to defeat on their terms. so, yeah, maybe just say that these are boundary markers and are more faithful to scripture than setting markers based on secondary deductions of (potentially bad) propositional logic. thx!
I agree that theological gate-keeping can become a sinful obsession that takes our eyes off our mission and derails our witness. I’m probably one who needs to repent of that.
However, I wouldn’t use the argument that no truths are timeless. Do you really believe that? I’m pretty sure that “God is good” is a safe statement for all time.
Sooner or later we have to draw lines in the sand (if we are to have any identity at all). You did it yourself with your recent post about homosexuality. The alternative is a neverending post-modern “conversation” that never reaches any helpful conclusions.
GC: I’m not sure I drew a line in the sand. I indicated that a certain way of approaching the question wasn’t compelling. I’ve argued that homosexuality is incongruous with the narrative that begins with the creation of male and female; but also listen to hear if a more inclusive position might end up being more in step with the story than I had previously given it credit for being. There are varying degrees of faithful storying and unfaithful storying. There is still “right and wrong,” I’m just arguing that our knowledge and understanding unfold in a more dynamic category than lists of truths and falsehoods.
“so important that we continually recapture the narrative dynamic of our defining Christian story, and continually insist that it is the story itself that gives us our identity”
Amen and amen. So, Daniel, what is that story?
Is it that central thread of Christ’s redemption & glorification, which we can safely extract from the NT (with the OT as vital background). Or is it the entire NT itself? If the latter, how much reconstruction is acceptable/necessary? If the former, then how much of what gets left out can we safely ignore?
To what extent is “our story” only that which we make it?
Perhaps more focally: the advent of the kingdom of God, especially through Jesus’ death and resurrection.
Okay, the advent of the kingdom, especially Cross/Resurrection. Got it.
But “the kingdom” including what-all, more precisely?
forgot the box thingy