How Often Do I Deny The Resurrection?

I (Ryan) have been sojourning down the unconventionally walked Lenten path, "Atheism For Lent," over the past 7 weeks with Philosopher Peter Rollins as the unorthodox guide.  Every week, Pete lectured the online group, and every day Pete supplied a reading or a lecture, sometimes a comic, a song or a movie (i.e. Scorsese's' 2016 gripping film, "Silence," which I highly recommend!) We spent the 1st week understanding the dynamic relationship between theism and atheism, followed by thematic weeks deconstructing God as being, dissecting God as hyper being, engaging the "Masters of Suspicion" such as Freud, Marx & Nietzsche, traveling down the road of interpreting God, as what Tillich would say, "ground of being," moving toward God as an event, and finally, unraveling into the Passion Week with the haunting words of Christ on the bloody cross crying out, "My God. My God. Why have you forsaken me?" This course has been a wild ride, and it's been very helpful as someone who takes his faith seriously, and aims to better understand the world at large while really better grasping what it means to "believe" and sincerely follow Christ. 

I'd like to post a parable by Phil Harrison (which was in today's reflection) alongside this talk Pete gave years ago. 

I'd love to hear your thoughts, friends. Message me at ryan at brewtheology. org Thanks.

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A Parable by Phil Harrison

The other day I had a dream. I dreamed I arrived at the gates of heaven, heavy-shut, pure oak, bevelled and crafted, glinting sharp in the sunlight. St. Peter stood to greet me; the big man wore brown, smile set deep against his ruddy cheeks.

“You’re here,” he said.
“I am,” I said.
“Great to see you—been expecting you,” he smiled. “Come on in.”

He pushed gently against the huge door; it swung silently, creakless. I took a couple of steps forward until, at the threshold, one more step up and in, I realized I wasn’t alone. My friends had joined me, but they hovered behind, silently, looking on. None spoke. I realized only I could speak. I looked at them; some were Christians, some Hindus, some Buddhists, some Muslims, some Jews, some atheists. Some God knows what. I stopped, paused. A hesitant St. Peter looked at me, patiently, expectantly.

“What about these guys?” I asked him. “My friends. Can they come?”

“Well, Phil,” he replied, soft in the still air, “You know the rules. I’m sorry, but that’s the way things are. Only the right ones.”

I looked at him. He seemed genuinely pained by his answer. I stood, considering. What should I do? I thought about my reference points, and thought about Jesus, the bastard, the outsider, the unacceptable, the drunkard, the fool, the heretic, the criminal, and I knew exactly where I belonged.

“I’ll just stay here then too,” I said, taking my one foot out of heaven. And I’ll tell you, I’d swear I saw something like a grin break across St. Peter’s face, and a voice from inside whispered, “at last.”  

Atheism For Lent

What does it mean to take up Atheism for Lent?

One might think that just sounds confusingly contradicting… right?

Yet, as Ernst Bloch once paradoxically stated, “Only a Christian can be a good atheist, and only an atheist can be a good Christian.”

The deepest cry in the Bible comes from the words of the Rabbi when Jesus shouts out, “My God! My God! Why have you forsaken me?”

Jesus experienced a loss of God.

Lent is dark.

The cross is lonely.

The follower of Christ is called to pick up his or her cross and follow Jesus… 

Where does Jesus go?

The cross!

The cross tangibly speaks to our death, loss, anxiety, depression, despair, and forsakenness. It allows us to enter into the dark night of the soul, a place where light might perhaps be unveiled in the darkness; or perhaps it might be a place where darkness snuffs out the light.

Whatever happens, things do change.

So, why engage in this thing called Atheism for Lent?

Isn't that heretical for a professed Christian, some may demonstrably ask?

Yes - perhaps at first glance! Yet, to remind everyone, Christianity was once considered a heretical religion (and Jesus, a heretical Rabbi who critiqued the religion of his day), and Christians were once called atheists at one point in history.

More pointedly, Atheism for Lent is an opportunity for Christians to engage some of the greatest thinkers and allow them to critique us – those who put their faith in Christ - along with seeing this critique within our ever-evolving, yet often mundane and stale religious framework.

Philosopher Peter Rollins, who started the “Atheism for Lent” course in 1998 wraps up the answer to the concerned onlooker quite succinctly, as he reminds the sojourner, "To not judge them (atheist thinkers), but let their work and words judge us.”

To engage in this “death of God” season allows oneself a place to discover those voices that were once deemed “enemies,” voices that can possibly purify one's unresolved faith issues. This season of darkness allows one to rethink basic presuppositions, and gives oneself the opportunity to deconstruct without guilt or shame. Everyone is somewhat open to their own inward doubt, but might not ever be honest about it. This posture of the heart and mind allows other ways of thinking and ambiguity a place at the table. Essentially, this strange Lenten practice isn’t about two different people or tribes fighting…it’s about real engaging as equals, something we - Denver Brew Theology theologians - do in the pub every single week.

Rollins reminds the learner that if we can’t cope with our differences (Atheists & Christians), we are typically repressing something that we have not dealt with ourselves. Perhaps those are questions that have been held down in a specific tribe. Most religious tribes are not open to this type of engagement due to fear. Usually, the louder and more defensive one becomes regarding doctrine X, Y or Z or practice A, B or C is due to repressed uncertainty. Atheism typically threatens one's identity. This is why we often see many religious people freak out on the internet when they see something that looks heretical; there's the need to lash out due to some deep-seated fear of the unknown. Thus, because many people do not deal with these feelings and thoughts, sadly many churchgoers are left with their own doubts in the quietness of their own soul, or they are sent to a "professional" Christian to get their doubts “squared away.”

Sometimes, our version or interpretation of God must die in order to move on… and that's okay. We need to be better at giving ourselves and others this kind of freedom. So, in the paradoxical season of sojourning toward the cross via "Atheism for Lent," may Lent be a season of genuine growth, a new death, honesty and the ability to be critiqued by the “other,” in order to see the new self emerge from the ashes.

To learn more about Atheism For Lent, check out Rollins' work, HERE. You can still sign up. 

Peace,

Ryan

P.S. Rumor has it that Brew Theology may host Pete Rollins and Tripp Fuller in the Mile High City this summer for a Theology Beer Camp... wink. wink. If you are interested, text the words BEERMEJESUS to 442-22 or email ryan at brewtheology.org.