CC8: The Question of Suffering

This week I was checking out the remaindered book section at Chapters, and I found a copy of Bart Ehrman's 2008 book God's Problem: How the Bible Fails to Answer Our Most Important Question -- Why We Suffer. As I mentioned in my post of March 6/10, I really like Bart Ehrman's books (though I don't always agree with his conclusions). So I bought God's Problem.

I knew a bit about it before I started to read it this week. That's because last year -- in July 2009, to be exact -- I bought and read Ehrman's 2009 book Jesus Interrupted: Revealing the Hidden Contradictions in the Bible (and Why We Don't Know About Them). In Jesus Interrupted, Ehrman talks about his earlier book on suffering. Still, it's always better to read the original book rather than the precis of it, even if the precis is written by the author him/herself. So I was glad to find God's Problem on the sale rack.

In God's Problem, Ehrman explains why he lost his faith and now considers himself an agnostic. It wasn't a sudden decision on his part, nor an easy one. He says, "I came to the point where I could no longer believe. It's a very long story, but the short version is this: I realized that I could no longer reconcile the claims of faith with the facts of life. In particular, I could no longer explain how there can be a good and all-powerful God actively involved with this world, given the state of things. For many people who inhabit this planet, life is a cesspool of misery and suffering. I came to a point where I simply could not believe that there is a good and kindly disposed Ruler who is in charge of it." (page 3) 

I think Ehrman clearly expresses a belief shared by a whole lot of people. And who can blame them? There's no disputing that suffering exists, and there's no disputing that centuries-old Christian theology has been pretty useless in helping thoughtful, compassionate people understand how to cope with suffering.

Mind you, Christian theology has been pretty useless in helping thoughtful, compassionate people understand a lot of things. Readers who, like me, attend the United Church of Canada (UCC) will understand when I say that the United Church scores a "B" and sometimes an "A" on social justice issues, but earns an "F" on questions about the soul, about death, and about spiritual practices. We don't get to hear sermons that tell us how to relate to a God who allows the suffering in the first place. But we're given lots of opportunities to help fix the suffering by rolling up our sleeves and supporting various social justice causes.

Don't get me wrong -- praxis is very important. Good works are incredibly important, and these days a lot of dedicated individuals who don't even believe in God put the rest of us to shame with their manifold good works. It's pretty obvious that Christians by no means have a monopoly on "Christian charity."

In the past 12 years, I've asked the same questions about suffering that Ehrman asks. I agree with his questions, and I agree with his willingness to point fingers at the parts of the Bible that simply don't help. Yet, for me, the end result has not been a loss of faith. For me, the end result has been a sense of frustration and sadness at the obstinate refusal of most Church leaders to be honest -- honest with themselves and honest with their parishioners about the history of church doctrine, and the extent of the damage that's been caused by this body of doctrines.

Never in any of the UCC or Anglican churches I've attended have I heard a minister say to the congregation, "Today's readings will be taken from Plato's Phaedo. Let us now hear what Plato has to say about the soul." Yet the Church's formal teachings about the soul have far more to do with Plato than with the teachings of Jesus. Most Christians (including many ministers) just don't know this.

And this is to say nothing of the fact that the God of orthodox Western Christianity owes far more to Plato's ideas about God than to Jesus' teachings on same. 

Too often, we think of the human journey as a few fleeting moments of beauty and happiness that are quickly stripped away, only to be replaced by the pain of loss and grief. If we’re patient, however, and wait for the fruits of insight, meaning, and transformation to evolve, we see the many ways in which God’s love sustains us even during the harsh hours of winter.

 

I sympathize tremendously with Ehrman's struggle over God, faith, and suffering, and like him I've read books such as Elie Wiesel's Night and Viktor Frankl's Man's Search For Meaning, but in the end I decided that the problem for people of faith is not the question of suffering.

The problem, as I see it, is that Christianity has not been teaching people anything about God as God actually is. Christianity has instead been teaching its own portrait of God for purposes that have nothing to do with God -- purposes such as authority, political power, empire, cultural hegemony, and wealth.

Christianity in the third millennium must be willing to confront its own historical role as a creator of suffering if we are to heal our relationship with God the Mother and God the Father.

If I sound a bit like a Liberation Theologian, I suppose that's because I share some of their reasoning.

Honesty precedes healing. It's time for the Church to be honest about its past motives and actions, especially with regard to its body of doctrines (that is, its formally accepted truths). Only then can we proceed to a state of full healing.

Thanks be to God.

CC3: Some Reference Books I Read & Recommend

I think it's important that readers have a chance to assess a writer based on the writer's own influences. The contents of a writer's own bookshelves tell you something about the core perspectives of the person.

(Notice how I've made the assumption that writers have more than one bookshelf!)

The books related to Christianity that I resonate most strongly with are books that are written for a lay audience by highly respected academic researchers who are not afraid to ask difficult questions, and are not afraid to cross the tightly drawn lines that artificially separate academic disciplines from each other. (For instance, biblical scholars and systematic theologians and religious studies scholars often won't speak to each other.)

In other words, I like books that are clearly written, well researched, and interdisciplinary.

"Now the whole earth had one language and the same words. And as they migrated from the east, they came upon a plain in the land of Shinar and settled there. And they said to one another, 'Come, let us make bricks, and burn them thoroughly.' And they had brick for stone, and bitumen for mortar. Then they said, 'Come, let us build ourselves a city, and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves; otherwise we shall be scattered abroad upon the face of the whole earth.' The Lord came down to see the city and the tower, which mortals had built. And the Lord said, 'Look, they are one people, and they have all one language; and this is only the beginning of what they will do; nothing that they propose to do will now be impossible for them. Come, let us go down, and confuse their language there, so that they will not understand one another's speech.' So the Lord scattered them abroad from there over the face of the earth, and they left off building the city. Therefore it was called Babel, because there the Lord confused the language of the earth; and from there the Lord scattered them abroad over the face of all the earth" (Genesis 11: 1-9). Some books I'd read by 2010. Photo credit JAT 2015.

I write notes all over my books, which is why I buy books rather than borrow them from the library. I'm on a budget, though, so I look for good reference material in used bookstores, etc. I've never met a dictionary I didn't like.

A lot of today's progressive Christians are reading books by Marcus Borg, John Dominic Crossan, and John Shelby Spong. I have books by these authors on my bookshelves, but these aren't the books I go back to, and these aren't the books I recommend. These well-respected scholars are trying to reenvision Christianity, and I respect their motives, but I disagree with their suggestions about how to do it. I don't think they're asking the right questions.

One book I really like is York University professor Barrie Wilson's How Jesus Became Christian (Toronto: Random House Canada, 2008). Don't be put off by the cover, which is really, really dreadful (sorry Dr. Wilson!), and is a good example of why authors should try to get "veto rights" in their publishing contract for the title and book design. Interestingly, Wilson says he was raised Episcopalian, but converted to Judaism because of the latter's emphasis on praxis rather than "belief." I've been wondering if the word he was really looking for was "fideism" (blind faith) rather than "belief."

I also like Bart Ehrman's books.* He has written a lot of material for lay audiences, and some of it has enraged conservative and evangelical Christians. (After his 2005 book Misquoting Jesus became a hot seller, angry rebuttals in book form began to appear.) I don't agree with Ehrman's interpretation of Jesus as an apocalyptic prophet, but at least he's not afraid to boldly outline the many inconsistencies and competing agendas of the biblical authors and their early Christian followers. Ehrman, like Wilson, has allowed his research to affect his personal life. In his youth, Ehrman was a devout evangelical Christian. He is now an agnostic.

I enjoyed Elaine Pagels's 1988 book Adam, Eve, and the Serpent (New York: Vintage-Random House, 1988). Her historical synthesis was daring for the time, and her conclusions were controversial. (She dared to suggest that Christianity ought to reappraise Augustine's "singular dominance" in Western Christianity.) Pagels is better known, though, for her work on the Nag Hammadi texts, and the Gospel of Thomas in particular. I would like to emphasize here -- strongly, and in bold letters -- that I, personally, am not a Gnostic. As I continue to post on this blog, it will become clear why I feel I must clearly state that I do not hold Gnostic beliefs. (I guess I'm a little touchy because some Christians I've encountered who ought to know better, because they're experts in their fields, have an unfortunate tendency to conflate Gnosticism with anything non-Newtonian. I don't think this is an acceptable scholarly attitude in the new era of quantum entanglement/non-locality.)

I also really enjoy reading the bimonthly magazine Biblical Archaeology Review, which is available on good newsstands, including Chapters/Indigo. Ya gotta love editor Herschel Shanks's pluckiness. Plus the photographs and maps that accompany the articles add an interesting dimension to the material. (As I mentioned in my profile, I come from a family of teachers and artists, so I'm drawn to educational materials that have a strong visual component.)

One last reference source I should mention is the Bible. In my research, I mostly use The New Oxford Annotated Bible: New Revised Standard Version with Apocrypha and The Jewish Study Bible: Featuring the Jewish Publication Society TANAKH Translation. Both these Bibles include extensive footnotes and scholarly articles. The translations are based on the most current and most comprehensive translation methods. But no translation of the Bible is written in stone. I use the Bible as historical source material, not as "inviolable truth" or the literal "Word of God." There's good stuff in the Bible, but there's also some stuff that's gotta go. When I say it's "gotta go," I don't mean it should be physically removed from the Bible, because that would be the same thing as burning books, and burning books is too close to fascism, if you ask me. I mean there are parts of the Bible that need to be reappraised in light of what they actually say about our relationship with God. We need to be honest about what some parts say, and we need to decide whether or not those parts can be "redeemed."

That was kind of long and boring, but I'm trying to show that I hold the methods of historical research and scientific research in high regard.

This is why it may come as a shock to you to learn that my first calling (well, my second calling, actually -- beginning in 1983, when I became pregnant with my first child, my highest calling has always been motherhood) . . . my primary spiritual calling is my ongoing commitment as a Christian mystic.

Yup. I'm a scientifically oriented, liberal, blond, United Church mystic.

Now there's an oxymoron for you.

Have a great day!

 * Addendum July 2026: Although I benefited from the research in Bart Ehrman's pre-2011 books, I believe his shift to outright atheism has created fertile ground for cognitive dissonance and strident polemics in more recent books.