Friday, July 3, 2015

Why I am a Christian (But I still bake for Ramadan)

This is a long post, best read with a cup of tea or a hot coffee while munching on a croissant or a muffin.  It should not be consumed with alcohol or on a full or empty stomach.

Last week, I was a bit overly excited that my local mosque was letting me bake for Ramadan. I realize for some of my friends on Facebook, this apparently got annoying.
But, honestly, I’m not sure many Christian churches in the US would let a random stranger cook for Christmas lunches.  It made me really excited that this mosque said yes, that I could serve them in this way.

A few people asked – in the way Christians ask when they’re afraid you’re about to do something like convert, why I felt the need to celebrate Ramadan.  The question is rather complex, but it dovetailed nicely with the request from the Chair-elect of the mosque that I consider seriously why it was that Muslims believed in prophets through Mohammed while Christians believed only through Jesus. So, I thought I’d take a moment, dust off this blog that I haven't written on in a very long time, and address all of this in one fell swoop.

Before I became a Christian – and yes, there was, for me, a process of becoming a Christian, despite having also been raised a Christian – I did a bit of a “let’s see what’s available” mission, where I researched various religions and beliefs.  It was actually the second time I did this – the first time, it was required for my confirmation class by the Methodist church I attended at the time. We visited the local imam to learn about Islam, the synagogue to learn about Judaism, the Catholic church, a few other Protestant churches, a Native American site (I have weird memories about this one, so I’m not actually sure what the site was), something associated with Buddhism (again, fuzzy memories; it’s been over 20 years).  When I was confirmed, I knew what I was accepting.

But then again… maybe I didn’t, because a few years later, I gave up believing in God, ascribing my earlier commitment to the thing young kids do when they don’t know any better.  And then later, I began to think that maybe I did believe in God? I wasn’t sure.  So, for the second time I did a comparative study, but this time I went deep down the rabbit hole.

In the end, I narrowed it down to Judaism, Islam, Christianity, and agnosticism.  I won’t go into details here what led me to choose these four, but they were the final choices – when I knew I believed in something and knew that something, but wasn’t yet sure what to call it.

From there, my decision came down to two words:

I am.

Jesus says them in John 8, when questioned over who he is.  He actually says them several times: “You are from below; I am from above. You are of this world; I am not of this world. I told you that you would die in your sins; if you do not believe that I am he, you will indeed die in your sins.” 

But those weren’t the verses that made my decision for me.  It’s the last verses in John 8: “’Very truly I tell you,’ Jesus answered, ‘before Abraham was born, I am!’” 

I hadn’t understood the words at 12 or 13 years old.  When I was older, though, and had re-read the Bible a few more times, it became clear: I am.  It’s was God’s first title – the thing he says to identify himself to Moses from the burning bush: “I am who I am.”

The totality of my beliefs hinged on these two words and one important question: did I believe him?

When Muslims try to evangelize to me – and it happens quite a bit – they tell me that if they didn’t believe in Mohammed, they would believe in Jesus.  I understand that better than anyone because if I didn’t believe in Jesus, I would believe in Mohammed.

That’s a controversial statement, I know, and every Muslim friend I have still reading this post just protested in their head, “But I do believe in Jesus!”

And you do believe in him – as a prophet.

I do not believe in Jesus as a prophet; I believe in Jesus as God.

Muslims reject Christianity because God has "no partners;" I do not consider Jesus to be God's "partner;" I consider him to be part and parcel of who God is -- just as I cannot separate myself and partner with myself, Jesus is not God's partner.

It’s why those two words mattered so much to my decision. If “I am” means Jesus was claiming to be God, then I had C.S. Lewis’ ‘liar, lunatic, or Lord’ trilemma.

Unfortunately, though, I’m mostly a monolinguist, with some passable non-English words that did little for me in determining what Jesus meant by “I am.” 

So I read, and I read, and I read some more.  But it was ultimately the next sentence in the Bible that made this question clear to me: The people picked up stones to stone him.  They knew what he was saying – and they considered him to be committing blasphemy.

But did I believe he was committing blasphemy?  Was Jesus a liar (claiming to be God when he was not), a lunatic or was he Lord?

I’m not someone who believes that good people don’t lie – or even that a good person couldn’t accidentally lie about being God. It could easily be one of those things where you get kind of swept up in a moment and suddenly … well, oops.

Okay, it’s never happened to me, but I can understand how it could happen, and the person wouldn’t need to be insane.

Yet, as I go through the Bible and see the prophesies Christ fulfilled and see what he said salvation was, I was left with this other feeling…

Christianity makes no sense.

Like, none. At all.

If I were to design a religion based on my earthly understanding of justice and God, I would not design Christianity. In fact, I don’t know a single person who would.

So we have to sacrifice God to be forgiven by God? Jesus creates the bridge by which we in our imperfection can be loved by God in his perfection – because he was both fully God and fully human? We get to heaven not by doing good things or being a nice person but because God loved us?  And on my deathbed, after a world of sins, I could simply say “I believe” and that’s enough? 

Seriously?

If someone were to make up a religion, or to try to explain God without being God, this is not what it would look like.

Jesus was everything the people thought he shouldn’t be and nothing that they thought he should. Jewish people waiting for the Messiah were waiting for someone to overthrow Rome. Rome was waiting to quell an attempted coup (can it really be called a coup? When a military junta overthrows another military junta, is it really a coup?).  And anyone waiting for the word of God was waiting for someone to give more rules.

And if Jesus were lying about who he was, that’s what I think he would do.  He wouldn’t simplify the old rules – reducing the Word of God to love God and your neighbor – and he certainly wouldn’t hang with society’s rejects, the prostitutes and tax collectors, adulterers, and the unclean.

I’m admittedly skipping a lot in the story of how I became a Christian – how I decided to trust the Bible, and why I believe the Bible is the inerrant word of God even if Christians interpret it badly (seriously… God used analogies to speak throughout the Bible and sometimes words have more than one translation; please stop trying to convince me the world was formed in 7 literal 24 hour spans) – but it was in that paradox, in the complete insanity of Christianity, that Jesus revealed himself to be God, at least to me.

It was those two words – I am – coupled with a lot of lessons that throw society on its head that convinced me that Jesus is God, not simply a prophet from him.

By the way, that insanity of Christianity? It is still relevant now – Jesus is still not who society wants him to be.  He doesn’t create a hierarchy of those he loves and those he doesn’t. I am still not better than a prostitute or a murderer, and I don’t get to pretend my sins are meaningless because they are societally acceptable (pride, arrogance, gluttony, jealousy). He doesn’t heap praise on those driving the BMWs or Mercedes.  And if he were picking a political candidate?  Nothing in the Bible tells me he’d be siding with Donald Trump.

[But I also don’t think Jesus chooses political candidates.  Free will allows us to do that – even if it makes Jesus cringe at what we do (I won’t say which 21st Century President not named Barack Obama that I think that applies to, because I generally try not to speak for God on things he hasn’t spoken of himself, and, well, let’s be realistic… I’m not sure Jesus has ever not cringed at what we do in elections).]

Jesus flipped everything we know about society – then and now – on its head.  And a liar wouldn’t while a lunatic couldn’t.

From the time that I accepted that – around 17 years ago, perhaps? – until now, I have never re-examined this central issue. I don’t feel the need to.  I’ve never been tempted to convert, and I have listened to a lot of individuals who have wanted me to.  I’ve had to tell more than one man I have loved that I am sorry – I will not be converting to… well, fill in the blank. I date a lot and I mostly don’t date Christian or Western men, so there’s a lot of ways to fill in that blank (that’s not a general slam on Christian or Western men; just my reality).

This raises two more questions: what do I believe about Mohammed and why do I bake for Ramadan?

Remember how I said I would believe in Mohammed if I didn’t believe in Jesus?  That’s still true.

Seriously, if I were to design a religion, it would probably be Islam as interpreted by many feminist Islamic scholars I admire. The idea that we have to demonize Islam to protect Christianity? It shows a very small idea of God.  An idea I find repulsive and disgusting, absurd, stupid, dangerous, disingenuous, and unnecessary.

I respect Mohammed, even while I disagree with him. I think if Mohammed hadn’t rejection Jesus’s status as God, then some of the Qur'an writings would go down alongside the writings of Sir Thomas Moore and St. Thomas Aquinas, Martin Luther and Calvin, as things that Christians should study. Or, they would if we didn’t have a ridiculous bias towards western Christian writings, but that’s for another day.

I think Mohammed was a man who looked around and saw that those who professed to follow God – both in Judaism and Christianity – were not doing what they were supposed to be doing. I think this saddened him and angered him and the Qur'an is the result of that. I don’t know how the Qur'an was written – and I can respect Mohammed without that answer.  I do know that he never claimed to be God, and it is in that difference – in Christ’s divinity and Mohammed’s humanness – that I find the answer to what I believe.

Now, why do I bake for / celebrate Ramadan? 

There are three reasons, but let’s start with Romans 12:15-16, which says that we are to Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.  Live in harmony with one another. Do not be proud, but be willing to associate with people of low position. Do not be conceited.”  Let’s be clear that I’m not saying Muslims are “people of low position” – I have, unquestionably, felt that some of my Muslim friends are much more godly, are following His will much more closely, than people I know who profess to be Christian.  But, we are to celebrate with those who celebrate.  So why would I not help Muslims celebrate?

I’ve previously broken bread during iftar celebrations, and some of my most important friendships are with individuals who follow Islam. Since I can’t celebrate with them, I baked for those who believe like they do, and through this, and these friends in common, I believe I celebrated with my friends who celebrate.

I also find in Ramadan the desire to honor what Jesus identified as the two greatest commandments: to love the Lord with all our heart, soul, strength and mind, and to love our neighbor as ourselves. Ramadan teaches Muslims to lean on God, and to have empathy for others who are less fortunate in life.  We as Christians could learn from this – fasting is one of our spiritual disciplines as well – so I want to support those who show their dedication in this way, and who are trying to grow closer to God this month.

There’s a final reason, specific to this mosque and to the country where I’m living: I do not doubt that if Jesus were in my city, this is where he would go and this is who he would be with. The national election here was pretty much about this mosque. That’s a bit of an oversimplification, as most of the commentary was on immigrants generally, but at the heart of this concern – and underlying it – was this mosque, its controversial history and association with Isis, and how if we allowed more refugees in from the Middle East, it would allow extremism to breed and to destroy the local culture.

While the mosque has worked hard to tamper extremism, the sentiment that they don’t belong is strong.  There is an otherness to their life here.

This is not an easy country for foreigners to begin with, but to be told through national elections that you are not wanted?  That you are less than those who “belong” here? Can you imagine an entire election around your existence and presence? [aside: the election here was strange for other reasons; the winning party won’t rule because, in essence, they just don’t wanna.  No, I’m not making that up; yes, I am overly simplifying it.]

I’ve never been more angry at Christians than at the silence of Christians here when people were placing up barriers to acceptance, to religious practice, and to belonging (okay, that’s not quite true; I get angry lots of times when Christians are silent in the face of meanness and injustice).

That mosque?  That’s where Jesus would go.  Those Muslims? That’s who he would break bread with.  That’s who he would bake for, and that’s who he would celebrate with.

So I’m a Christian with no intention or desire to convert, but I will always bake for my Muslim brothers and sisters when they fast.  I am deeply grateful that this mosque allowed me to do that for them, and I look forward to doing it for them again soon.