Faith Works 8-26-22
Jeff Gill
Theology, worldview, and head canon
___
There's a concept in fandom around various cinematic and literary franchises called "head canon."
Canon, of course, is borrowed from Biblical studies: as opposed to the two-n cannon, which fires off cannonballs, the scriptural canon is the roster of books or texts approved by the church over time.
In fact, I believe canon formation is one of the most spiritually interesting areas of church history, with odd asides such as Martin Luther despising Esther & James, but he consented to keep them in Protestant Bibles when erstwhile allies said fine, but let's also take out Song of Songs and Revelation. The Holy Spirit at word, or religious log rolling? You be the judge, but I think in canon formation you see how spiritual discernment works to get us the Bible we have, and the apocrypha and pseudopigrapha we don't reverence in the same way.
Canon is used today in a variety of forms. Sherlock Holmes is "canon" in the 56 short stories and four novels by Sir Arthur Conan-Doyle, but there are many additional works, some published and others more fan fiction, that make use of the Great Detective. They aren't canon, in other words.
Harry Potter is a cottage industry of sorts, with seven novels in print, eight movies made from them, and the author J.K. Rowling has written a number of short works and a play. They're all canon, but there are debates about how canonical variations in the films weigh versus the books themselves, let alone odd asides Rowling has made over the years since the last one.
And this is where "head canon" comes in. For some people, an image they have in their head is the "real picture." The color of one character's hair, or eyes, for instance. And there are pieces of backstory which are not canon, as in they aren't in the core texts, but which people can seize onto and insist are true, at least in their own minds.
Biblically, this comes up with a kind of head canon like the certainty most of us have about there being three magi, or wise men. If you go to canon, the words of scripture, it's just plural. No number, other than their having three gifts, which gave rise to the idea the multiple magi were three wise men.
I have a big hunk of head canon in my mind that I've come to impose on the Star Wars universe. I could bore you for possibly hours on it, but in sum, it's the idea that somewhere before the events in the 1977 film (Episode IV if you must), a plague ran through humanity in the galaxy we're learning about, killing most humans, hence there actually aren't that many "people" in the fictional universe we're encountering.
Cloning was one response, which we get to later on, and also droids: but (and this probably came to mind because I'd read "Dune" before seeing the first "Star Wars") there was a general distaste for robotic life due to past misuses of their autonomy. Remember in the cantina scene when the bartender oddly erupts "we don't serve your kind"? So droids were regarded nervously at best, and still prone to independent action.
Clones, though, were equally problematic, and especially when forced to maturity were functional but somewhat shaky and erratic: remember how bad the stormtroopers were at hitting a target right in front of them?
All of these ideas fill in plot holes, but are directly contradicted by other statements in official Star Wars canon. Whatever! I have my own head canon which helps me make sense of the story (don't ask me about Snoke).
And that's fine in fiction, but for faith formation, it can be a problem. I was once an associate minister with responsibility for Christian education, and learned one of the regular teachers was a fervent believer in astrology. As in, she spent major dollars in having astrologers do horoscopes for herself and her family, to help in making plans and decisions in her life.
Let's just say that was a pastoral challenge. Her theology about the person of Christ and the work of God was really quite orthodox, she had just figured out how the Lord used the influences of the planets and zodiac to prepare for us the road we would travel. We carried on quite an ongoing conversation about where and how this could relate to our shared Christian beliefs.
Our conversation here about theology and head canon will continue, too!
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he has his own sense of where the guardrails are. Tell him where you'd set the center line at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.
Saturday, August 20, 2022
Friday, August 19, 2022
Notes from my Knapsack 8-11-22
Notes from my Knapsack 8-11-22
Jeff Gill
Watersheds as revelations on our landscape
___
Up in the northwest corner of our county, I found the headwaters of Raccoon Creek, a curl of ditch heading first west towards the border with Franklin County just a quick walk ahead, then bending to the south and back around until it was ready to make a wide loop around Johnstown, and on to Granville and Newark.
A generous estimate of a thirty mile length from just north of Westley Chapel Road, to the confluence with the South Fork of the Licking River within sight of the county Courthouse, Raccoon Creek is the force that has shaped most of the human history of our immediate area, and no small amount of the natural history as well.
It riffles across the Raccoon Shale at the lowest point it follows in Granville Township, within reach of the bike path. This geologic stratum is a member of the Cuyahoga Formation, and so is somewhere between 344 and 355 million years old, with the Dugway & Buena Vista Members just downstream, all part of the Mississippian subperiod of the Carboniferous era, and yes that means there's coal to our east, but you knew that.
At least it means we can ground our area at around 350 million years ago, and build from there: Black Hand Sandstone (good for building courthouses and such), flint beds to the southeast and some later sandstones to our north, as Africa ran into North America to our east and squeezed up the Alleghenies before tectonically drifting away, leaving our part of the continent to sigh deeply and settle down just in time for a long glacial nap.
After the glaciers retreated, you start to see some valleys carved out of the post-glacial landscape. It's not as dramatic as the Grand Canyon, but every time I drive back into Licking County along Rt. 161, just past Rt. 310, I find the view quite stirring. From the left as you head east, curving around in front of you, is the valley of Raccoon Creek, from its upland source now into a wide valley a few hundred feet deep. From the 310 overpass you slowly dive into that valley, past Rt. 37 and finally down next to Raccoon Creek itself, and shadowing that watercourse all the way into Newark proper.
But the watershed it drains runs well to the north, the uplands where Lobdell Run comes down out of the hills, and not quite so far south, where Moots Run winds north into the larger creek.
Living in Granville, most of us live in the Raccoon Creek watershed. We may not draw our water straight from the banks, nor do our washing there, but the hydrology on the surface is very important for the wells from which we do drink, and then we of course discharge our effluent (what a great euphemism!) into Raccoon Creek and on downstream. But who is upstream?
If you take that parcel so much discussed, the Intel property and the $100 billion-with-a-b investment into fabrication plants, and you draw a diagonal across it from northwest to southeast, the northern half of that land drains into Kyber Run, thence into Raccoon Creek, and on to our doorstep. Intel is upstream, and we are already connected.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he's interested in watersheds even if they don't put them on most maps. Tell him about what downstream effects you're aware of at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.
Jeff Gill
Watersheds as revelations on our landscape
___
Up in the northwest corner of our county, I found the headwaters of Raccoon Creek, a curl of ditch heading first west towards the border with Franklin County just a quick walk ahead, then bending to the south and back around until it was ready to make a wide loop around Johnstown, and on to Granville and Newark.
A generous estimate of a thirty mile length from just north of Westley Chapel Road, to the confluence with the South Fork of the Licking River within sight of the county Courthouse, Raccoon Creek is the force that has shaped most of the human history of our immediate area, and no small amount of the natural history as well.
It riffles across the Raccoon Shale at the lowest point it follows in Granville Township, within reach of the bike path. This geologic stratum is a member of the Cuyahoga Formation, and so is somewhere between 344 and 355 million years old, with the Dugway & Buena Vista Members just downstream, all part of the Mississippian subperiod of the Carboniferous era, and yes that means there's coal to our east, but you knew that.
At least it means we can ground our area at around 350 million years ago, and build from there: Black Hand Sandstone (good for building courthouses and such), flint beds to the southeast and some later sandstones to our north, as Africa ran into North America to our east and squeezed up the Alleghenies before tectonically drifting away, leaving our part of the continent to sigh deeply and settle down just in time for a long glacial nap.
After the glaciers retreated, you start to see some valleys carved out of the post-glacial landscape. It's not as dramatic as the Grand Canyon, but every time I drive back into Licking County along Rt. 161, just past Rt. 310, I find the view quite stirring. From the left as you head east, curving around in front of you, is the valley of Raccoon Creek, from its upland source now into a wide valley a few hundred feet deep. From the 310 overpass you slowly dive into that valley, past Rt. 37 and finally down next to Raccoon Creek itself, and shadowing that watercourse all the way into Newark proper.
But the watershed it drains runs well to the north, the uplands where Lobdell Run comes down out of the hills, and not quite so far south, where Moots Run winds north into the larger creek.
Living in Granville, most of us live in the Raccoon Creek watershed. We may not draw our water straight from the banks, nor do our washing there, but the hydrology on the surface is very important for the wells from which we do drink, and then we of course discharge our effluent (what a great euphemism!) into Raccoon Creek and on downstream. But who is upstream?
If you take that parcel so much discussed, the Intel property and the $100 billion-with-a-b investment into fabrication plants, and you draw a diagonal across it from northwest to southeast, the northern half of that land drains into Kyber Run, thence into Raccoon Creek, and on to our doorstep. Intel is upstream, and we are already connected.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he's interested in watersheds even if they don't put them on most maps. Tell him about what downstream effects you're aware of at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.
Sunday, August 14, 2022
Faith Works 8-19-22
Faith Works 8-19-22
Jeff Gill
It's not essential that you agree with me
___
Discussion of theological essentials always provokes a wide range of responses, and is a useful reminder of why Christian unity is difficult to achieve in visible, immediate forms.
My own religious tradition speaks of a "Restoration plea" asking that churches unite on the basis of "Scripture only," but that's where we find some immediate dissension. I spoke of my own reading of the Bible and Christian tradition as leading me to disagree with calling the exclusion of women from the pulpit a "scriptural essential."
That got me a few correspondents sending me textual citations. That's right where I think we have a problem: single verses or even half verses aren't how we're going to reach true discernment on God's will spoken in the word of God in the Bible. I believe we need a wider perspective.
The Ten Commandments include "Thou shalt not murder." We're still sorting out the Hebrew to English context for "do not kill" versus "do not murder" and then parsing down into second degree and manslaughter and pretty soon we're doing legal homework, not theology.
I believe in a Biblical worldview. Where I end up crosswise with others who say the same thing is that I'm not always certain I know what a Biblical worldview is, and am willing to be pastorally cautious about applying my understanding to particular situations.
My essentials for a Biblical worldview start here, in four points: there is a God; the one whom I call God is good entirely; God is engaged with creation (or contrariwise, God is not indifferent); and finally that our best way to see or hear or understand such an infinite and eternal God who is good is by looking to Jesus of Nazareth.
How do we work from basic concepts like that to daily application and personal beliefs? There's the challenge between church and culture. Not to mention within church cultures.
For instance: I am very conflicted over applause in worship. Look, I grew up in the Sixties and Seventies when everyone in church youth groups talked about how when we were older, we'd encourage applause in church. And the idea that God is best honored by an icy, unemotive, stock-still congregation just can't be supported by belief in a loving God who is deeply interested in the decisions we make and the lives we live.
Yet the move to worship as concert venue performance has . . . issues. Okay? Can I leave it there? I'm not saying all applause is bad, or that never applauding is good. I just am still wrestling with how we can allow some moments in worship to just . . . be.
The last verse of the last Psalm says "Let everything that breathes praise the Lord! Praise the Lord!" If lute and harp and tambourine and dancing can all be used to praise God, why not applause? It's a matter of where, and when, and in response to what.
You can carry this same question of discernment into matters of love and justice, food and sex, money and sharing. When, and why? To the person begging at the highway exit? At the buffet thinking about seconds? In your estate planning? And yes, I would argue that sexual intimacy is best intended within the marriage tie, but it's hard to find a Bible verse that simply spells that out directly. I think it's an argument that calls on the best of a Biblical worldview, but as sexuality is connected to questions of stewardship and mutuality and covenant, more than a "here's the verse that tells you what to do."
And then there's how we apply our faith, personal or communal, to matters of public policy. I believe very strongly indeed in the power, the value, the need for each of us to perform acts of service. But I really have a problem with mandatory community service. I truly believe in the power of prayer, but I also believe forced prayer is like forced confession, or worse yet forced belief. You can't order someone to have faith, and prayer has to be voluntary to be, well, prayer.
What I believe we can do in community, and I pray we are doing in this space each week, is to provoke one another to reflect on where a loving God is at work in all that we say, and all that we do, and especially when we struggle to bring the saying and doing together.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he's actually certain of a few more things than he was in the Seventies. Tell him what you're certain of at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.
Jeff Gill
It's not essential that you agree with me
___
Discussion of theological essentials always provokes a wide range of responses, and is a useful reminder of why Christian unity is difficult to achieve in visible, immediate forms.
My own religious tradition speaks of a "Restoration plea" asking that churches unite on the basis of "Scripture only," but that's where we find some immediate dissension. I spoke of my own reading of the Bible and Christian tradition as leading me to disagree with calling the exclusion of women from the pulpit a "scriptural essential."
That got me a few correspondents sending me textual citations. That's right where I think we have a problem: single verses or even half verses aren't how we're going to reach true discernment on God's will spoken in the word of God in the Bible. I believe we need a wider perspective.
The Ten Commandments include "Thou shalt not murder." We're still sorting out the Hebrew to English context for "do not kill" versus "do not murder" and then parsing down into second degree and manslaughter and pretty soon we're doing legal homework, not theology.
I believe in a Biblical worldview. Where I end up crosswise with others who say the same thing is that I'm not always certain I know what a Biblical worldview is, and am willing to be pastorally cautious about applying my understanding to particular situations.
My essentials for a Biblical worldview start here, in four points: there is a God; the one whom I call God is good entirely; God is engaged with creation (or contrariwise, God is not indifferent); and finally that our best way to see or hear or understand such an infinite and eternal God who is good is by looking to Jesus of Nazareth.
How do we work from basic concepts like that to daily application and personal beliefs? There's the challenge between church and culture. Not to mention within church cultures.
For instance: I am very conflicted over applause in worship. Look, I grew up in the Sixties and Seventies when everyone in church youth groups talked about how when we were older, we'd encourage applause in church. And the idea that God is best honored by an icy, unemotive, stock-still congregation just can't be supported by belief in a loving God who is deeply interested in the decisions we make and the lives we live.
Yet the move to worship as concert venue performance has . . . issues. Okay? Can I leave it there? I'm not saying all applause is bad, or that never applauding is good. I just am still wrestling with how we can allow some moments in worship to just . . . be.
The last verse of the last Psalm says "Let everything that breathes praise the Lord! Praise the Lord!" If lute and harp and tambourine and dancing can all be used to praise God, why not applause? It's a matter of where, and when, and in response to what.
You can carry this same question of discernment into matters of love and justice, food and sex, money and sharing. When, and why? To the person begging at the highway exit? At the buffet thinking about seconds? In your estate planning? And yes, I would argue that sexual intimacy is best intended within the marriage tie, but it's hard to find a Bible verse that simply spells that out directly. I think it's an argument that calls on the best of a Biblical worldview, but as sexuality is connected to questions of stewardship and mutuality and covenant, more than a "here's the verse that tells you what to do."
And then there's how we apply our faith, personal or communal, to matters of public policy. I believe very strongly indeed in the power, the value, the need for each of us to perform acts of service. But I really have a problem with mandatory community service. I truly believe in the power of prayer, but I also believe forced prayer is like forced confession, or worse yet forced belief. You can't order someone to have faith, and prayer has to be voluntary to be, well, prayer.
What I believe we can do in community, and I pray we are doing in this space each week, is to provoke one another to reflect on where a loving God is at work in all that we say, and all that we do, and especially when we struggle to bring the saying and doing together.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he's actually certain of a few more things than he was in the Seventies. Tell him what you're certain of at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.
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