As part of my worldwide book tour (which thus far hasn’t left Connecticut), I spoke last night at Hartford Seminary, my alma mater. I enrolled in a New Testament class at the seminary some 10 years ago in an attempt to try to figure out all the Bible I’d learned as a fundamentalist Christian.
See, I learned plenty of Bible but absolutely no context — nothing about authorship or audience or cultural norms of the day.
(Can I just say that I figured the seminary would give me an easy degree, and that I thought a New Testament would be a breeze, given all the Bible I know by heart. And within 15 minutes, the teacher, Efrain Agosto — now the dean — had me looking for the exits. It was not easy, but I stuck it out and I’m glad I did.)
Last night was the book’s coming out party, and the program started with two songs from the choir at Hartford’s Citadel of Love, a north end Pentecostal church led by the incredible Pastor Marichal Monts, a friend of mine. They tore the roof off.
(Note to self: Never ever ever follow the Citadel’s choir. You just aren’t good enough.)
Anyway, maybe it was the fabulous music, but as much as I talked, I forgot to say three things, and those things woke me up in the wee hours of the morning, so I’ll say them here:
1. My Jesus — the one I met later in life, not the one in my “Children’s Bible” – is not Norwegian. He is distinctly swarthy and
2. He doesn’t fit into stained glass windows, either, all sanitized and saint-like because
3. He was a radical, pure and simple. He came to shake up the paradigm. He fraternized with the disenfranchised, brought women to the table, touched the lepers, and spent his short time on earth looking out for the little people. So the Jesus I dated in high school was a human construct — maybe a well-meant one, but hardly the historic Jesus, the one I met again for the first time as an adult.
4. (I lied when I said I’d only add three things) This Jesus, the historic Jesus, is far more to my liking, because this Jesus sounds like the one I read about in the Bible. And we fundamentalists are all about scriptural reference.
There. I feel better now. Thank you for listening.
Phew! Glad you got that off your chest. Last night, despite the omissions, was terrific. Both the choir and the author. An overflow crowd (the author too humble to say so) and a lot of learning and laughter.
You are kind. I love that choir and I mean it. Everyone head up to Citadel of Love in Hartford, Conn., for some REAL worship, Pentecostal-style. It is the huggingest group I’ve ever seen.
Amen!! I much prefer the swarthy, grungy, rebel Jesus to the glowy, blonde, doe-eyed Jesus.
I would also like to point out that he probably smelled bad. Even after being anointed.