I hadn’t actually seen that implication in Ehrman’s book — and it’s a very good point.  I’ve actually been coming to a similar conclusion, given how liberal the gospel writers seem to have been about making stuff up.  One of the things I did, a few months ago, was actually read the source texts for the OT quotes Matthew puts into his first chapter.  In context, none of them mean what he says they mean!  (With one possible exception that is written in such vague language, it could mean anything — a passage even Nostradamus would be proud of.) It’s like Matthew is searching for a “sound bite” that would fit his narrative, and didn’t really care if it stood up to scrutiny.  In fact, I suspect that’s exactly what he was doing.  In this particular case, he’s inventing the legend of the virgin birth (I say “inventing” because none of the earlier writers — Paul or Mark — seem to have heard it), and, I doubt he expected anyone to take it literally.  He’s busy crafting a good story.  Then, later on, Luke likes it, and writes (or records) a “bigger fish” version of it. 

One of the pastors I talked to said something that has stuck with me.  He said, “Some people worship the Bible.” I think that’s a really important point.  If we aren’t allowed to question and contextualize what people wrote in that book, if we must just believe what we are told — all or nothing — then all we end up doing is letting other people decide our beliefs for us.  And my belief is that — as faith goes — that’s the most useless and evil kind.  You know, the kind that flies planes into buildings — or drops bombs on other people’s homes — in the name of God.

I think we have to get back to first principles: Love God with all your heart and all your soul and all your mind; love your neighbour as yourself. Maybe we won’t always get that right.  But we aren’t as likely to get that totally wrong, either.  And at least we’ll be thinking about it.

Peace.

I quite agree with your assessment of the Evans interview in The Case for the Real Jesus.  I found most absurd his claim that many liberal scholars’ ignorance of “the Semitic background of the New Testament” causes them to misconstrue Jesus’ use of the phrase “Son of Man.” “They didn’t know how it was linked to the Son of Man figure in Daniel 7, where there are divine implications. Instead they pursued a bizarre Greco-Roman understanding, translating ‘Son of Man’ as ‘Son of Adam,’ which doesn’t clarify anything.”

I can’t believe that Strobel lets him get away with pretending that liberal scholars don’t know about a connection that is footnoted in every Bible I have ever seen.  It is just silly.  Personally, I have seen the link discussed by Crossan, Ehrman, and Vermes.

I was actually reasonably impressed by Strobel’s interview with Dan Wallace about the problems raised by Ehrman’s book.  Wallace did make the argument that no essential doctrines were impacted, but he also faced the issue of inerrancy if somewhat obliquely.  It seemed to me that he acknowledged the possibility that the conservative view of inerrancy really did not stand up to scrutiny.  I thought that showed some real intellectual honesty.

It’s funny, I’ve never been a “bible-thumper”.  The idea of literal reading (what does that even mean?) has never appealed to me, because we just don’t work that way.  We filter everything through our personalities and our cultural and personal biases.  It’s how we cope.  We are simply not capable of having the same experience of something as anyone else.  If God requires perfect knowledge from us, well, he’s got the wrong species. 

I started down this road last year because I suddenly found myself worrying, “What if I’m wrong?” But, in the end, after reading so many things, what I’ve concluded is that there is even less that I can trust in the texts of the Bible than I had originally thought.  There’s just so much humanity in there — it’s really impossible to know anything with any kind of certainty, because part of our nature is to be very messy.  And I think that’s okay.

So, I’m back to where I started: love God with all your heart and all your soul and all your mind; love your neighbour as yourself.  “All other laws are based on these,” right?  I do the former by searching and by listening for that small, quiet voice, as best I can.  And I work at the latter because it seems like the right thing to do, even if this is all there is. 

I don’t know that God exists — I believe e does, but I don’t know it.  I don’t know that Jesus is the Son of God, but then I’m also not convinced it matters that much.  Jesus spoke of God being like a parent.  Well, good parents don’t put much stock in what historical facts their kids have memorized, or what secret handshakes they know.  They care about who their kids are, and how they treat themselves and others.  And that’s something I can live by.  That’s something I can test against the world and make good choices about, as a result.  If, in the end, that makes me an agnostic secular humanist, or a Buddhist, instead of a Christian, then fine.  I’ve never been very impressed by labels.  And, if, in the end, that’s not good enough, then that’s okay, too.

Obviously I’m one of those liberal Christians who doesn’t care whether he’s right or not.  Or perhaps better I think it’s very difficult to be right and certain.

Well, you already know I love your writing.  To be honest, it’s so much crisper than mine — I’m hoping I can figure out how to do it. 

For me, anyway, the whole publishing thing really feels like work.  And I already have a job that I’m actually good at.  Now that I’m being a little clearer about my motivations, the idea of taking that second job doesn’t really appeal to me.  Even if the writing is good enough — and I don’t know that it is — I’d still rather just give it away.

Presently, I’m waiting for the rejection slip for Dajoën, so I can post it here and remove it from my list of things to worry about.  Because, frankly, if I get an acceptance slip instead, it will end up being only the beginning of my worry. 

Thanks for reading and commenting, BTW — I appreciate it.

Chris.

I know I have to.  I want to teach college level writing.  That means I have to finish this degree, track down at least one, maybe two, more, and publish.  And find a university that’s hiring.

And my best friend offered to help me out with publishing “when I’m ready for it.” He’s helpful in that sort of regard, what with having, basically, my dream job and knowing plenty of people.

But I’m having a hell of a time with “ready for it.” I’ve got two not-entirely-finished novelettes, a novel that I hit a brick wall on and then haven’t had time to go fix (I mucked up my climax by asking the impossible of it), and loads of short stories (my happy place, where I’m comfortable, where I can bang out a finished piece before ADD kicks in).  It’s not like I don’t have material.

I’m just still stuck in a place where I firmly believe that the publishing world is this:

The Shakespeare Island.

It’s this little elitist club consisting of the best writers of all time, and you can’t get there without an invitation, and even if you get an invitation, you still have to cross shark-infested waters, lethal reefs, and storms to get there; and once you get there, you’re going to look around at your competition, say “I’m not as good as Shakespeare” and want to escape.

Bless blogs for giving me readership without an inferiority complex.  The end.

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-8491896865632168074