Ponderings

When Rabbi Michael Lerner, taking aim at the reintroduction of the Latin Mass, raised the anti-Semitism flag this week, I took note. Lerner is an interfaith bridge builder known for pointing fingers at his own religion (Judaism). A rebel rouser, to be sure, he is most commonly found challenging the politics of Israel not the language of Christian worship.

The offense is apparently embedded in the Latin version of the Good Friday liturgy. The ancient story, brought to horrifying life in Mel Gibson’s “Passion”, pleads with God to “lift the veil” from the eyes of the Jews in order that they might accept Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior. Translated into common parlance the prayer reads something like, ‘Jews are blind to the truth of Christianity’. Ouch.

While the offense is undeniable and the tension palpable, I find myself wondering if this is offense given, offense taken, or both. Although this would appear to be a theological quagmire, my hunch is that it is a logic problem. And though arrogance abounds, this is really an issue of ignorance. What we need right now is not Henry Kissinger, but a flowchart.

Years ago, in the days before Bill Gates had made his first million (really, there was such a time), we learned the art of flowcharts. Before we were allowed to write a program (in a foreign language called ‘fortran’), we had to demonstrate mastery of the logic flow on paper. Although I have no recall about the specific functions of the boxes and diamonds and circles, I have an abiding memory of choice. At each junction, a choice was made and each choice affected the outcome.

The flow of the Latin Mass, which leads to the prayer for the conversion of the Jews, when seen on a flowchart is not about Judaism but about narrowly defined Christianity. The flow can be seen in a few brief questions:
First: Do you believe in life after death (afterlife)?
If yes: then do you believe in a dualistic (good/bad, heaven/hell) afterlife?
If yes: then do you believe that one’s profession of faith (religion) affects one’s placement in the afterlife?
If yes: then you have a moral duty to help others make the faith profession that would enable them to experience the most positive afterlife. If I could save my neighbor from eternal torment, wouldn’t I want to do so? The concern is genuine and well intentioned.

It takes a lot of “yes” choices to get to proselytizing. The beauty of understanding flowcharts is the reminder that at any point along the way, a different choice can be made yielding a different outcome. If we pause to draw the flowchart that has lead to the offense of proselytizing, we can determine what choices might be made differently.

We choose to believe in an afterlife. We choose to interpret to scripture in a manner which confirms that belief. We choose religious liturgy that supports that belief. But we could make different choices.

I confess that after years of seminary, a couple of decades of parish ministry, and a lifetime of bible reading, the specifics of what happens after we take our last breath are a mystery to me. I’ve been blessed to have walked with people of deep faith who have made a variety of choices along the flowchart of faith. One of my very devout Christian friends does not choose to believe in an afterlife. “We live on in those who have loved us,” is the best he can do for an afterlife belief. Though his simple assertion is anathema to his orthodox friends, his choice frees his theology to focus on the presence of the sacred in this life.

Given the ghostly legacy of our logic choices, maybe it’s time to chose a different belief. ‘Our believing that hell doesn’t exist won’t extinguish the fires!’, some say, and maybe they are right. But our belief in the coming fire is fanning flames in the here and now. Our choice to believe in a dualistic afterlife has fostered the creation of hell in this one.