• A Theology of Meaning

  • Atheist thinker Sam Harris said, “One of the most significant challenges facing civilization in the twenty-first century is for human beings to learn to express their deepest personal concerns—about ethics, spiritual experience, and the inevitability of human suffering—in ways that are not flagrantly irrational.”

    He’s right. 

    The Enlightenment brought science and naturalism, and the church pretended not to notice and, when it did, declared itself infallible. It also adopted a triumphalistic stance that asserted theology’s status and insights as above those of all other disciplines, science included. 

    Later, you had a retreat into Biblical literalism and various forms of fundamentalism.

    Needless to say, these responses were the wrong move. 

    Triumphalistic, fundamentalist theology quickly loses touch with reality, repels listeners, and engages in category errors.

    Many of these errors arise when Christians assume that ancient theological claims are propositional truths, crafted within an Enlightenment mindset of empirical rationality. 

    This misstep distorts the nature of Christianity’s foundational claims, many of which were not intended as simplistic, factual assertions but as expressions of truth using ancient reasoning that relied on metaphor, mythopoesis, and symbolism. 

    Recognizing this error highlights the need for a modern theological methodology that respects the original intent and intellectual context of these claims while engaging with today’s pluralistic, post-Enlightenment world.

    If the past two or three centuries of Christian decline have shown anything, it’s that theology must abandon triumphalism and return to its true nature, that of meaning-making. 

    For example, the proper function of theology is not to pronounce on the mechanics of virgin births and resurrected bodies or the process of transforming wine and bread into Jesus. 

    Rather, the purpose of theology is to elaborate the meaning of such claims. What is the significance of saying Jesus was virgin-born, resurrected from the dead, and is present in the Eucharist?

    Theology’s strength lies in addressing issues of existential import: human dignity, moral purpose, and the pursuit of goodness.

    A mature theology acknowledges its limits, cedes explanatory claims to science, and focuses on its actual task: illuminating meaning and guiding ethical life in a world science describes but cannot normatively judge.

    Sadly, as a result of this methodological confusion, much of contemporary Christian theology fosters a spirituality that amounts to magical thinking, wish fulfillment, and ego projection.

    To restore credibility, we must turn away from any ideological theology that lacks humility, makes unwarranted claims, and arrogantly demands that reality conform to its narrow views. 

    Any theology that militantly imposes itself on reality without regard for reason and the truth that emerges from lived experience is false.

    What is needed is a return to a theology of meaning that humbly proposes its wisdom for the world to consider.

  • A theology of meaning organizes religious beliefs into frameworks that illuminate existential purpose and normative wisdom. It identifies core themes and concepts within a tradition, articulating their interconnections to reveal the significance of theological claims for human life.

    Returning theology to this focus achieves a rapprochement with naturalism and Enlightenment thinking, which emphasize human experience and reason, by affirming the world’s inherent value without competing with their domains. 

    This methodology fosters interdisciplinary dialogue, drawing on psychology, sociology, literature, science, and the arts. Such engagement enriches theological inquiry, offering fresh perspectives on questions of purpose and value.

    Above all, it focuses on the normative dimensions of reality, elaborating insights through metaphor, mythopoesis, and illative reasoning, which weave diverse experiences into a unified understanding.

    Additionally, it incorporates historical-critical analysis of texts and traditions, examining scripture and spiritual sources to uncover their original meaning (if possible) and relevance to lived experience now.

    In essence, we must return to theology as a form of wisdom. Wisdom is not primarily about factual knowledge of the world. Instead, wisdom focuses on praxis, how to live a good and meaningful life. 

  • God is not a divine Santa-Claus whimsically giving gifts and doing favors for good boys and girls. Nietzsche and the New Atheists deservedly killed this god.

    The real God is a metaphor for an ultimate, transcendent reality that is the source of all existence and the ground of being. God is the power that sustains and animates the universe, imbuing it with meaning, order, and purpose (logos).

    “To apply the term ‘God’ (in the Christian sense) is to say that we perceive a connection between the marvels of the natural world, the moral law, the life of Jesus, the depths of the human personality, our intimations about time, death, and eternity, our experience of human forgiveness and love, and the finest insights of the Christian tradition intuitively. To deny the existence of ‘God’ is to say that we cannot (yet) see such connections.”

    – British Society of Friends, Faith & Practice, 5th Edition

    This necessitates a rejection of artificial dichotomies between the natural and supernatural. (De Lubac) The spiritual and mundane become indistinguishable, and the two collapse into one sacred whole. Attuning our perception to see this is the goal of any spiritual path.

    All creation is an emanation of the Divine. All exists in God, and God is in all. Therefore, reality possesses an inherent sacredness. And since all is in God, all that seeks to bracket out God is ultimately nihilistic.

    In this light, forms of panentheism recommend themselves and need to be explored.

    We must renew our understanding of Divinity, aligning it with the best of human learning, science, spiritual imagination, myth, and poetry.

    If our God is a whimsical, irascible, capricious old man above the sky, then our theology is going to be incoherent at best, and bat-shit crazy at worst.

  • The Bible is a set of interconnected stories that weave an overarching web of logos – of meaning.

    To call oneself a Christian is to claim these stories as one’s own – to locate one’s life in some manner in the ongoing narrative(s). To be Western means to have some reference to this set of narratives as well.

    A theology of meaning proceeds from the conviction that the Bible is not inerrant or infallible – it is a collection of stories that mix fact with fiction, poetry and prose, metaphor and symbols.

    The writings are a collection of our spiritual ancestors' understandings of the divine, notions of goodness, human nature, and the meaning and purpose of life. To claim these stories as meaningful and culturally significant, we must not claim them as magical.

    The texts were not written to serve as historical, scientific, or even moral documents (as we understand these disciplines today). Instead, Scripture combines history remembered with history metaphorized, expressing sacred myths primarily as sweeping spiritual statements.

    The writings are stories told from another world whose forms of reasoning and argumentation sharply differed from our own.

    Literal readings, uncritical approaches, and a lack of contextual understanding distort the Bible's message, leading to misuse and misunderstanding. Interpretation is always personal within a communal context. Just as there are no infallible texts, there are no infallible interpreters.

    The scriptures are not a set of magical books. We reject all forms of literalism, proof-texting, fundamentalism, legalism, and Bibliolatry. Such attitudes must be fully purged from our theology.

  • Jesus is the architectonic revelation of Divinity and humanity. In Him and through him, we find meaning and life.

    The core of Christian living is aligning our lives with Jesus's teachings and example. We must diligently refine our understanding of the historical Jesus to achieve this. This necessitates careful engagement with scholarship in historical Jesus studies, hermeneutics, and textual criticism.

    Further, we must move beyond simplistic interpretations of Jesus as merely a sacrificial victim. Concepts like original sin and substitutionary atonement require critical examination and are problematic and unjustified in most current forms.

    In many ways, we have become overfamiliar with the Galilean and therefore don’t really know him.

    A deeper understanding of Jesus within his historical and cultural context and a rereading of the Gospels with fresh eyes will ultimately enrich our knowledge and practice of the Christian life.

  • The early Church’s claim of Jesus’ Resurrection takes various forms. Central to all of them is the conviction that Jesus remained meaningfully present in the community after his death.

    The resurrection of Jesus Christ is not merely a historical event to be believed; it is an ongoing reality that invites us to participate in a transformed way of life. It affirms a life rooted in kenotic love—a love that empties itself, pours itself out, and finds its fulfillment in the well-being of others.

    The first Christians interpreted the resurrection according to Jewish theology: a new way of living and being had entered the world. If the Christian communities had been challenged to show the body or bring out Jesus, they would likely have responded, “Come see how we live.”

    The resurrection claim was a defiant assertion that imperial power could not extinguish the values Jesus embodied—love, compassion, forgiveness, and justice.

    To claim and participate in the resurrection was to say that Rome could kill us, but they could not ultimately win. To participate in the resurrection was to join the community that was his living body.

    Above all, the Eucharist became a central locus for experiencing Jesus' presence. These ritualistic meals served as a tangible connection to Jesus, reinforcing his real presence within the community.

    The resurrection isn’t so much to be believed as it is to be practiced.

  • The Kingdom of God is not a distant, heavenly ideal but a present reality open to all who embrace love and mercy. It is accessible to spiritually discerning and compassionate people with open hearts and hands.

    The 25th chapter of Matthew’s gospel provides a powerful framework for understanding the importance of the works of mercy as central to the fullness of Christian living and as a means of making the Kingdom real.

    Jesus explicitly links holiness to our service to the least of these: the hungry, the thirsty, the imprisoned, and the stranger. This group includes the marginalized, the oppressed, the lonely, and the unwanted. It also consists of the difficult, the annoying, and those we disagree with politically, morally, and theologically.

    By actively engaging in acts of compassion, we embody the Divine love and become living witnesses to the Gospel's transformative power. Our words may fall on deaf ears, but our actions speak volumes.  

    Therefore, the works of mercy are not optional charitable acts; they are commanded opportunities for authentic encounters and genuine human connection - they are the required way of life in the Kingdom.

    “If concerned about sexist implications, use any modern translation of 'Kingdom of God,’ but remember it should always have overtones of high treason. Similarly, to say Jesus was Lord meant Caesar was not. Translate “Lord’ with any contemporary expression you deem appropriate, as long as it can get you killed.”

    – John Dominic Crossan

  • Christian communities, in all their forms, must vigorously proclaim and defend human dignity and oppose the dehumanizing forces of empire, secularism, and nihilism.

    Salvation is not the promise of some other worldly reward. Rather, it should be understood as wholeness and holistic human flourishing now. As Irenaeus reminds us, the Glory of God is the human person fully alive.

    We must foster a Christianity that helps people flourish and thrive.

    To do so, we must embrace Jesus’ call to live lives of radical love and mercy.

    Therefore, we must insist on making Jesus’ rejection of moralism, legalism, and literalism – all of which tempt us to build walls, control others, and establish abusive power structures – central to our understanding of Christian practice and communal organization.

    Given our intrinsic social nature, salvation is as personal as communal. It is not a goal to be achieved or a magical moment in time. It is not gained by answering an altar call; instead, it is an ongoing way of being in the world aligned with God and God’s values.

  • The assertion of human dignity is at the heart of the Christian tradition. Following the Jewish lead, Christianity also sees the human person as reflecting divine realities.

    Reflecting on human dignity is a gateway to moral understanding and asserting human rights and responsibilities that form our social order. Our dignity demands certain things from us—how we live, eat, dress, work, have sex, entertain ourselves, and relate to others, both humans and nonhumans, in the world around us.

    Humans experience the capacity to be called by something beyond ourselves, something that both speaks to our nature and is yet embedded there. In moments of quiet honesty, we find ourselves with a given orientation – and that orientation offers itself as an approach to our better selves – it is the voice of our nature calling us toward fulfillment.

    Morality is not imposed on humanity or revealed by a deity or religious authority. Instead, it is an integral part of our natural identity. Our moral responsibilities and rights arise from our nature (a reasoned, loosely teleological reflection on such) and our relationship to others.

    This vision offers a formal framework for moral reasoning. Our motivation for virtue is a matter of integrity, following the logic of our very being. Our dignity and ontological status provide something of a given orientation.

    Claiming that understanding moral truth is a function of reason doesn’t mean the Christian tradition doesn’t significantly contribute to that task. The Christian moral vision, rooted in the gospels and other scriptures, contains specific moral commandments and serves as a source of metaethics, reasons why human flourishing matters, and why people should be concerned with it.

    Jesus calls us toward a robust life of goodness and meaning.

  • The communion of saints expresses the profound interconnectedness of all those who belong to the Kingdom, both living and deceased.

    This spiritual union transcends boundaries, uniting followers across time and space in a mystical body with Jesus as its head.  

    This communion is rooted in the belief that Christians are incorporated into the Kingdom and that this incorporation is not merely symbolic but a real participation in the divine life.

    The Church universal, understood as the mystical body of Christ, is the visible part of this communion.

  • As envisioned by the Second Vatican Council's document Gaudium et Spes, the Church exists not as an isolated entity but as a leaven within the world and a "sign and safeguard of the transcendent dimension of the human person.”

    This outward-facing focus draws upon a rich social thought tradition.

    These traditions grapple with the sanctity of all life, the dignity of work, economic justice, human rights, the need to alleviate poverty, ease suffering, and prevent it, and the Church’s need to fight oppression, marginalization, and all forms of human denigration.

    The Church's role is to be a prophetic voice challenging injustice and working toward the common good, offering a vision of human flourishing rooted in the values of the Gospels.

    If the Church isn’t counter-cultural, it’s failing in its purpose.

  • The Eucharist is at the heart of Christian liturgy and life. According to the Didache, the earliest Christians attested that Jesus was present during the celebration of the Eucharistic meal.

    In a real way, the Eucharist is a continuation of Jesus’ open table ministry. We must remember that it was an inclusive table of healing, not a dining experience for the self-righteous.

    The Eucharist ties together the Church as the body of Jesus, the community of the resurrection, and the presence of the Kingdom in the world.

    Therefore, our Eucharistic celebrations should be frequent and beautiful.

  • Christianity spread slowly but unstoppably for one primary reason: Christians created authentic communities of mutual support and inclusion. Please reread the previous sentence.

    The Church didn’t succeed because of theology, and the movement didn’t spread because of miracles. It prevailed because it fed the poor, cared for the sick, welcomed the lonely, and drew in the marginalized.

    We need to prepare for the Post-Church. By this, I mean that we must look beyond institutional structures, denominational affiliations, clerical authority, and the traditional ways of being Church.

    Instead, the focus should be on fostering organic communities, embracing sacramental living, and promoting transformative action within local contexts and the broader institutional structures.

    For further practical insights on new ways of being Church and structuring communal life, see Blue Ocean Faith’s 9 Communal Principles and Theological Distinctives, or The Iona Community in Scotland, to see these principles applied.

  • The question “Is Christianity true?” invites reflection on what truth means and how it applies to a religion that has shaped lives for centuries. 

    Truth, in its simplest form, is correspondence—when a claim aligns with reality. A statement like “the sky is blue” is true if the sky is indeed blue. 

    However, applying this to Christianity—a complex tradition of beliefs, practices, and communities—requires more than just checking facts. Christianity’s truth cannot be reduced to a checklist of doctrines or a historical audit of the Church’s actions. 

    Its truth lies in its capacity to reveal the meaning of life and foster human dignity through a way of living rooted in kenotic love—self-giving love that seeks the flourishing of others.

    Christianity is not merely a philosophy to be debated or a theory to be proven. Reducing it to propositions misses its essence. A creed recited without action is hollow; assent without love is empty. While doctrines guide, they are not the fullness of Christianity’s truth. They point to something more profound—a lived reality that transcends intellectual assent.

    The Church’s history complicates the question. Its mistakes, excesses, and abuses—crusades, corruption, or exclusion—show it is not perfect or wholly good. These failures do not negate Christianity’s truth but remind us that flawed humans live it. 

    Truth is not synonymous with perfection. Instead, Christianity’s truth emerges despite these shortcomings, in moments when its teachings inspire acts of compassion, justice, and reconciliation. The Church’s errors call for humility, not dismissal, as we seek what makes Christianity resonate as true.

    Christianity’s truth lies in its way of life and relationships, which align with human dignity and fulfillment. To say Christianity is true is to say it offers a path to thrive as humans were meant to, through love that empties itself for others. 

    To ask if Christianity is true is to ask if this way of life resonates with reality. Does kenotic love lead to flourishing? Does living for others bring meaning? 

    The answer lies in the countless lives—quietly heroic or boldly transformative—that embody this truth. Christianity is true not because it is perfect but because it shows us how to live fully, loving fiercely, while helping others do the same.

Jesus - The Incarnation of Meaning

  • “Western culture, indeed the world, is repeatedly asked the pivotal question: Who do you say I am?”

      – Hans Urs von Balthasar

    For nearly two millennia, Jesus has served as the architectonic symbol of divinity and humanity within Western culture, profoundly shaped by Christianity’s influence.

    Interpretations of Jesus have evolved over the centuries—depicted as a shepherd, king, soldier, messiah, sage, prophet, reformer, revolutionary, and friend—each reflecting and shaping the cultural trends of its era, in turn influencing Christian practice.

    Yet, Jesus remains a cipher. A definitive interpretation of his life and meaning eludes us, mediated through story, art, liturgy, and imagination, with direct knowledge impossible.

    The historical Jesus fades into the past, with scant sources and records. The Gospels highlight what their authors deemed essential, yet, like all texts, they are limited and demand interpretation.

    Over the centuries of interpretation, Jesus emerges as a symbol laden with meaning-rich metaphors—virgin birth, miracle worker, innovative teacher, radical reformer, crucified, resurrected, and Lord.

    The historical essence behind these metaphors invites exploration, meditation, and debate. Overly literal interpretations diminish their profound meaning, while diminishing the historical elements weakens their potency.

    Diverse images of Jesus have evolved across the ages, shaped by the institutional Church and cultural biases. Figures like Pat Robertson revere a Jesus unrecognizable to Paul of Tarsus, Francis of Assisi, Erasmus, or Aquinas, and vice versa.

    Our understanding of Jesus matters greatly, shaping Christian thinking and practice, yet we often overlook the competing visions vying for allegiance. Periodic review of our images and understandings is merited.

    Regrettably, historical and independent sources about Jesus remain scarce.

    The historical Jesus is primarily understood through theological interpretations of his spiritual significance, as recorded in scriptures and early writings, analyzed through various historical, cultural, and textual lenses.

    Historical Jesus scholarship seeks to explore his life and teachings within their historical and cultural context, employing critical methods—such as history, anthropology, archaeology, and hermeneutics—yet Jesus remains an elusive cipher.

    The paucity of historiographical evidence precludes a definitive portrayal, ensuring that historians, theologians, and believers will debate his nature and meaning indefinitely, with no resolution or proof of any version’s validity. Jesus persists as a mystery and a heroic figure onto whom we project our values and aspirations.

    This scarcity of historical records and materials stems from the fact that the ancient poor lacked the resources to record events. Jesus, preaching among the marginalized, mostly escaped the notice of the elite. The poor, lacking ability or even literacy, do not do history. 

    Our primary sources, the four canonical Gospels and the rejected texts, are complex works that are near-biographical but not strictly historical. They weave myth, apocalyptic language, poetry, and midrashic elements from Hebrew texts.

    Christians often naively assume these Gospels preserve Jesus’ exact words. They may include authentic sayings, approximate memories, or intentional fiction, crafted to reflect community priorities, emphases, and values.

    Jesus’ teachings in the Gospels result from interpretation, memory, recontextualization, and invention. Mark, written 30-40 years after Jesus’ death, is unlikely to retain verbatim accounts. First-century Judea was not an oral-memory culture, and thirty years clouds any conveyed stories or information.

    The Gospels blend remembered history with metaphorical narratives; some events likely occurred, while others serve as mythic parables, enriching theological points in a mythopoetic fashion

    The use of mythopoetic language does not diminish the truth of the stories; rather, it shapes our understanding of Jesus in the Gospels as a theological interpretation, not a biography.

    Beyond religious writings, only four pre-200 CE pagan-Jewish references exist, noting Jesus’ Jewishness, ministry, execution by Pilate, and believers’ post-death experiences. These scant references lack theological depth or intent. 

    Given sparse evidence—four Gospels, Christian texts, and four non-Christian mentions—Jesus acts as a mirror, reflecting our desires, with a caution: “The Jesus you seek tends to mirror yourself.”

    History offers no fixed response to Jesus. Christianity, a personal yet communal journey, demands engaging his teachings through trial, experimentation, and courage, integrating his way into life.

    Christian spiritual maturity hinges on answering Jesus’ question, “Who do you say that I am?” with honesty, living in integrity with that conviction.

  • Valuable insight emerges from understanding Jesus within his first-century Judean context under Roman rule. Recognizing the empire’s rigidity, abusiveness, intolerance, violence, and oppression illuminates the meaning of his teachings and actions, both historically and today.

    Jesus was deliberately contrasted with Augustus Caesar, pitting the Reign of God against Rome’s Imperial Rule, revealing the subversive depth of his message.

    In Jesus’ era, emperor worship was a tangible part of religious and cultural motifs. Augustus was hailed as Lord, Son of God, a living deity, a virgin-born miracle worker, a font of wisdom, and a peace bringer—language that mirrored Roman propaganda.

    The Roman Empire justified itself by divine sanction, imposed peace through military violence, upheld patronage, elitism, militarism, taxation, slavery, patriarchy, and hierarchy, offering a limited, militaristic logos and salvation.

    Christianity boldly proclaimed Jesus as Lord, employing identical terms—virgin-born, Son of God, incarnate, peace-bringer—heralding a new order of love, justice, equality, and freedom, inverting Roman values.

    This early Christian assertion was not a theological or emotional claim of divinity but a defiant allegiance to Jesus’ social and cultural vision, perceived as treason by Roman authorities.

    What constitutes the essential message of Jesus? What lies at the heart of his teachings?

    His central theme may be aptly framed as a new social vision, termed the Kingdom of God—a way of life and broader social order grounded in kenotic love, compassion, and justice. The Kingdom of God stood in opposition to the Roman Empire. 

    “If concerned about sexist implications, use any modern translation of “Kingdom of God,” but remember it should always have overtones of high treason. Similarly, to say Jesus was Lord meant Caesar was not. Translate “Lord” with any contemporary expression you deem appropriate, as long as it can get you killed.”
      – John Dominic Crossan

    For Jesus, the reign of God served as a metaphor for a social vision in which peace emerges through justice, rather than military conquest, affirming the dignity of all life, prioritizing compassion, and caring for the needy. 

    Freedom replaces slavery and domination, while religion—its underlying foundation—rests on mercy and purity of heart, transcending mere custom or legal adherence, resonating with a theology of participation and meaning.

    Jesus proclaimed the “kingdom of God” or “kingdom of heaven” as a counterpoint to Rome’s dominion. While the Roman Empire wielded power through conquest, oppression, and military might, Jesus envisioned God’s kingdom marked by justice, mercy, and peace. His teachings championed humility, service, and love for neighbors, challenging the hierarchical and authoritarian structures of Roman society.

    Jesus’ ministry subverted imperial ideology, which glorified power, wealth, and status. He critiqued the idolatry of riches and power, urging followers to forsake worldly ambitions for the kingdom’s values, aligning with a theology of participation and meaning.

    Through acts like washing his disciples’ feet, associating with the poor and marginalized, and confronting religious and political authorities, Jesus modeled a radical alternative to imperial norms.

    He practiced nonviolent resistance, rejecting Rome’s oppressive tactics. Instead of violence or rebellion, he advocated love, truth, and moral courage as transformative power.

    His teachings on nonviolence, forgiveness, and love for enemies disrupted Rome’s cycle of violence, offering reconciliation and justice as a revolutionary path.

    Jesus’ message of universal brotherhood and equality transcended Rome’s ethnic, social, and cultural divisions. Welcoming all into God’s love, regardless of background, he undermined the empire’s exclusivist practices, affirming every human’s inherent dignity.

    Contrasting Caesar’s title as “son of God” and bringer of Pax Romana, Jesus presented a messianic hope rooted in liberation from sin, oppression, and death. His crucifixion and resurrection symbolized triumph over imperial powers, ushering in an era of freedom and redemption.

    Interpreting Jesus as an alternative to Rome underscores his subversive challenge to dominant ideologies. Embodying love, justice, and peace, he offered a vision of human flourishing that inspired generations toward a more compassionate world.

    Central to the new order Jesus proclaimed is a reimagined understanding of religion, rather than the establishment of a church or a new faith—his teachings and example amount to a critique and reform of Judaism. 

    During Jesus’ time, Judaism underwent a pivotal transition, driven by Roman occupation and the impending destruction of Jerusalem’s Temple, shifting from a focus on sacrificial rites to a religion centered on personal ethics, ritual, and customs.

    The Pharisees embodied the emerging Rabbinic Judaism, emphasizing ethical behavior and Halakhah—Jewish law and custom—which Jesus challenged, rejecting both Temple sacrifices and Pharisaic legalism.

    Jesus taught that the Kingdom of God was present and accessible to all who enacted it through actions of compassion, mercy, sharing, hospitality, justice, and kindness, rather than relying on religious ritual or custom or on military or political upheaval.

    Entry into the Kingdom depended not on Jewish law, purity, or social rank within the imperial hierarchy.

    Jesus’ radicalism lay not in preaching love—his contemporaries valued it within limits—but in asserting a new social-spiritual reality, already emerging, that favored the lowly, outcast, ritually unclean, and unwanted, thereby threatening the prevailing order.

    His radical inclusivity transcended ethnicity, religion, and status, welcoming sinners, Samaritans, and Gentiles, breaking down barriers and affirming every human’s dignity as a beloved participant in God’s love.

    His engagement with outcasts mirrored divine mercy and forgiveness, offering renewal through parables such as the lost sheep, the prodigal son, and the forgiven adulteress, extending grace to all who followed his way.

    The Sermon on the Mount and parables unveil the Kingdom’s vision of holiness—upending conventional morality, exalting the humble over the self-righteous, and replacing imperial violence with gentle self-generosity.

    At its core, the Kingdom hinges on kenotic love as essential to wholeness. Jesus taught that goodness alone does not fully “save”; true transformation arises from self-sacrifice and love for others, surpassing ritual purity.

  • The Gospels portray Jesus as a healer and miracle worker, with numerous narratives involving miracles and healings. There are also references in early Christian texts underscoring their centrality to his ministry.

    We cannot return to the past to examine what specifically occurred and how these miraculous and healing events played out. Did the lame get up and walk, and the blind suddenly see? Perhaps, but we weren’t present, and we do not find such events in our world today, at least as described in the gospels. 

    The exorcism of Legion recounted in Mark 5:1-20, Luke 8:26-39, and Matthew 8:28-34 is a narrative laden with symbolism that extends beyond the literal claims of expelling demons. 

    Through this account, we can discern a powerful critique of Roman imperial power, a demonstration of Jesus' authority over evil, and a profound message of liberation and healing for those marginalized and oppressed.

    Gerasenes/Gadarenes: The location of the exorcism, the region of the Gerasenes or Gadarenes, is significant. This area was largely Gentile and represented the encroachment of Roman culture and influence into Jewish territory. The presence of a demon-possessed man in this region symbolizes the oppressive and destructive nature of Roman imperial power.  

    Legion: The name "Legion," signifying a vast Roman military unit, directly connects the demonic force oppressing the young man with the Roman army. This association implies that the demonic oppression experienced by the man is analogous to the oppression inflicted by the Roman Empire on the Jewish people and other subjugated populations.  

    Pigs: The demons' request to enter the pigs and their subsequent drowning in the sea carry multiple layers of symbolism. Pigs were considered unclean animals in Jewish tradition, and their association with the demons further reinforces the notion of impurity and defilement connected to Roman influence. The drowning of the pigs can be interpreted as a symbolic overthrow of Roman power and a rejection of its values.  

    Fear and Rejection: The Gerasenes' reaction to the exorcism, asking Jesus to leave their region, reveals their fear of his power and their complicity in the oppressive systems that benefit them. This highlights the challenge Jesus poses to those who benefit from the status quo, even if it means perpetuating injustice and oppression.  

    The exorcism of Legion offers a nuanced commentary on the nature of power, authority, and the Kingdom of God. It challenges us to question the oppressive systems that perpetuate injustice and to embrace the values of compassion, healing, and liberation. 

    What we do know is this: These acts of healing and miracles serve theological purposes, illustrating Jesus’ divine authority, compassion for the suffering, and the advent of God’s kingdom. Each event is rich in symbolism, information, and meaning. 

    Traditional interpretations often frame miracles as direct divine interventions, while non-supernatural perspectives attribute them to natural laws, psychological effects, or symbolic intent.

    Unlike traditional emphases on supernatural elements, metaphorical readings highlight the symbolic richness and theological depth, inviting exploration of enduring meanings and spiritual insights.

    While not dismissing historical possibilities, these interpretations prioritize the universal relevance and timeless truths of acceptance, inclusion, and compassion that underlie these accounts. 

  • Throughout his ministry, Jesus never endorsed violence, a stance reinforced in the Sermon on the Mount’s call for nonviolence and love of enemies, culminating in his non-resistant arrest. Early Christian communities echoed this rejection of violence.

    His execution by Roman authorities, likely with Jewish leaders’ complicity, stemmed from Pilate’s perception of insurrection and treason. However, his nonviolent challenge to Rome and Temple authorities made this outcome somewhat foreseeable.

    Followers grappled with the meaning of his violent death. How could one who was so aligned with God, advocating for justice and nonviolence, face such an ignoble end? Did his execution hold a higher purpose?

    Early communities turned to the Hebrew scriptures for insight, with some linking Jesus’ death to Jewish sacrificial concepts, laying the groundwork for atonement theories.

    Paul framed the Garden of Eden events of Genesis as a rupture in divine-human relations, viewing the Jewish Covenant as a partial remedy. He connected Jesus’ death and resurrection to a deeper atonement, contrasting Adam’s flaws with Jesus’ perfection.

    The nature of atonement has long been a subject of debate. Violent interpretations—Jesus as a penal substitute—pose issues often overlooked in popular Christian rhetoric, conflicting with fundamental justice.

    Modern understanding rejects punishing an innocent person for another’s guilt, even if the substitute volunteers, deeming it unjust. Such views also suggest a father orchestrating a child’s death, hinting at divine limitation or abuse, incompatible with forgiveness sans bloodshed.

    Jesus’ death should have a meaning that transcends satisfaction, justice, or punishment. Focusing on his nonviolent response reveals the cross as a symbol of integrity and self-giving love. We must uncomfortably recognize that much of Christian theology has reduced Jesus to a human sacrifice. 

    Early Christians, per their writings, saw the resurrection as vindication of Jesus’ teachings and life, despite his death, intertwining their meaning with the cross and empty tomb, affirming dignity and resistance to imperial dehumanization.

    The cross, an emblem of this new order, embodies the transformative potential of kenotic love. The passion narratives blend allegory, spiritual fiction, and fact, highlighting Jesus’ integrity and willingness to die for his convictions.  

    The resurrection, inseparable from the cross, proclaims love and dignity’s victory over death. As the logical outcome of kenotic power, it calls for a life of radical self-giving to worthy values, resulting in a restored and transformed life.

    The four Gospels—Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John—narrate Jesus’ resurrection with varied details, sharing only the empty tomb and the women as the first witnesses.

    The Emmaus story (Luke 24:13-35) offers a somewhat different interpretation: the disciples, initially unaware of the risen Jesus, recognize him through the study of scripture and the sharing of bread, emphasizing an understanding of Jesus’ death and resurrection as part of the overall Jewish scriptural narrative and the presence of Jesus in the Eucharist.

    Jesus’ resurrection was a statement of vindication, a denial of Roman triumph. It inspired early Christians to live as Jesus did, resisting imperial dehumanization and finding meaning in the enduring power of love.

  • Discussions about Jesus pivot on questions of his status and nature, culminating in the query: Is Jesus God?

    Answering this demands grappling with divinity’s meaning and essence—an inexhaustible endeavor where incomplete metaphysics and language fall short.

    Many who encounter Jesus discover meaning, power, purpose, and love, unveiling divine realities. Is Jesus God? The boundaries blur, and metaphysics embraces mystery.

    In Jesus, we perceive divine traits—forgiveness, love, mercy, compassion—qualities we deem profound and worthy, resonating with a theology of participation and meaning.

    He also embodies humanity’s finest attributes—those we deem godly—echoing Genesis’ assertion that we are made in God’s image. Thus, Jesus emerges as the unitive sacrament of God and humanity, a distinctive Western insight.

    “Who do you say I am?” Jesus’ pivotal question remains essential for revitalizing Christianity across the ages.

    Responding with complex metaphysical claims about Jesus’ nature today lacks wisdom and appeal.

    Treating Jesus as a child’s imaginary friend—a comforting, ghostly presence—diminishes his radical significance.

    Worse, viewing him as a divine human sacrifice to appease a demanding God, a blood payment for salvation, reduces his meaning to a heavenly ticket.

    Meaning and transformation hinge on a personal response—calling Jesus Lord and recognizing Him as the trustworthy source of meaning amid cultural power structures. This allegiance, a bold stance of values and life, transcends abstract Greek ontology.

  • The Prologue to John's Gospel and his reference to Jesus as "the Word" in his First Epistle offer profound insights into Jesus Christ's nature and significance for human meaning. These texts present Jesus as the Incarnated Logos, the embodiment of divine reason, truth, and meaning, who reveals the ultimate meaning of human existence.

    The Prologue to John's Gospel begins with the enigmatic statement, "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." 

    This "Word" is identified with Jesus Christ, who is described as the "light of men" and the "true light for every man that comes into the world." This image of Jesus as the Word suggests that he is the ultimate source of truth and understanding.

    In his First Epistle, John refers to Jesus as "the Word of life, which was with the Father, and which we have seen and touched." 

    From the beginning, we have heard, seen with our eyes, looked at, and our hands have touched what we have heard and seen—this we proclaim concerning the Word of life.

      - 1 John 1

    This phrase reinforces the idea of Jesus as the Incarnated Logos, the divine Word made flesh. By touching Jesus, John suggests a physical and sensory experience of the sacred, a direct encounter with the source of all truth and meaning.

    The concept of the Incarnated Logos is central to the Christian understanding of Jesus. As the Word is made flesh, Jesus reveals God's true nature and the ultimate purpose of human existence.

    The life appeared; we have seen it and testify to it, and we proclaim to you the eternal life, which was with the Father and has appeared to us.

      - 1 John 1:2

The Ministry of the Open Table

  • Jesus employed the social act of dining and eating with others as a centerpiece of his ministry and as a powerful symbol of the Kingdom. Jesus practiced an open table, free from the social rules of the day, as a symbolic act to embody his new order.

    The following analysis draws on the scholarship of John Dominic Crossan and Stephen J. Patterson, whose work on the historical Jesus and the role of sacrifice in the ancient world informed this approach.

    This open table, central to his ministry, scandalously invited and mixed men and women, free and slave, privileged and needy, pure and unclean, challenging first-century social norms.

    Seating arrangements, social invitations, and communal meals had tremendous cultural and social significance and were carried out under strict rules and mores. 

    Such inclusivity at the table and while dining posed a cultural and social threat, undermining those benefiting from established hierarchies and conventions.

    The open table symbolized a non-discriminatory order of love, posing a visible challenge to both Imperial and Jewish ritual systems.

    After Jesus, early Christians continued this practice, evolving it into various Eucharistic forms—meals of thanksgiving—while preserving the inclusive community he had founded and finding meaning in Jesus’ presence in the act.

    Today, the open table’s significance persists, critiquing social and religious customs that exclude, alienate, judge, or divide, urging Christians to renew this practice.

    It embodies genuine community, oneness, equality, and love—Jesus’ intended message—clashing with the Hellenistic-Roman culture’s elitist values.

    For Jews, dining with public sinners, Roman collaborators, gentiles, and the ritually unclean was seen as religiously improper and scandalous.

    Thus, there are many gospel references to Jesus eating with sinners and tax collectors. 

    Hospitality and sharing a meal were, therefore, a central hallmark of Jesus’ ministry and served as a way to make real the meaning of the Kingdom.

  • New Testament scholar Hal Taussig highlights that ritual sacrifice, ubiquitous in Christian origins, organized the ancient Mediterranean world around state power, economic patronage, and cultic religion, with communal meals at its center.

    Stephen Patterson notes that sacrifices were public events, core to Greek and Roman culture, which ritualized imperial power and thereby reinforced oppressive structures through feasting.

    Sacrifice, from the Greek meaning "to feast, butcher, and slaughter," held deep economic and class significance in a peasant economy, where meat was a luxury, financed by elites who supported temples, priests, and elaborate public festivals.

    The manner of participating and feasting was determined by social rank—elites sat together in the best seats and received prime cuts of meat. In contrast, widows, orphans, slaves, and outcasts were seated on the periphery, if at all, and received scant leftovers, mapping community hierarchies.

    Sacrificial meals visually and practically delineated social boundaries, reinforcing the status quo—class, race, gender, slave, citizen—sustaining the empire’s order. To participate in the sacrifice was to reaffirm the social order and the powers that be. 

    Paul’s admonition against eating meat sacrificed to idols reflects this context.

    Jesus’ open table ministry also contrasted this cultural practice, creating an alternative, non-sacrificial, food-sharing ritual favoring the needy, outcasts, and marginalized—those excluded from the Pagan-Imperial sacrificial order—thereby posing a threat to imperial and religious norms.

    Jesus’ meals, freely offered without ritual slaughter, nourished and welcomed all, rejecting participation in oppressive hierarchies. As a result, they were seen as subversive, threatening, and rebellious. 

    Christians opted out of Roman sacrificial systems, refusing to uphold imperial structures, and instead chose their Eucharistic meals, which embodied the values and meanings of the Kingdom of God.

    The open table, a ritual realization of this Kingdom, remains a central creative act of the new order of love.

    This analysis should prompt us to ask: To what extent do we participate in modern imperial sacrifices? Do our communities embody openness and hospitality, particularly in their Eucharistic practices? Do our homes reflect an open table of welcome?

  • The Didache, a Christian text from the late 1st century, clearly shows that the Eucharist was central to the early Christian communities and their gatherings, confirming its significance from the beginning. 

    The Didache presents the Eucharist as a core practice integral to communal life and spirituality.

    Chapter 9 of the Didache provides prayers for the Eucharistic gathering, thanking God for the “holy vine” and “bread broken” that unite believers in Jesus’ name. 

    These instructions show the meal as a sacred rite, not a casual act.

    The Didache’s early dating—possibly within decades of Jesus’ death—indicates that Eucharistic practice was not a later development but a foundational element of Christian life.

    It describes communities meeting regularly to share this meal, fostering unity and gratitude.

    There is value and meaning in communities continuing this tradition in ways that suit them best.

    Whether its the hospitality of a shared meal, a simple Eucharistic ritual, or some combination, there is much to be gained by its practice.

  • Christians claim that Jesus is made truly present in the Eucharist. The real presence extends beyond the bread and wine, manifesting dynamically in the communal act of the meal and the gathered community.

    Jesus’ presence radiates through the action of the meal itself as well as in the community gathered. 

    The various metaphysical and theological theories for how Jesus is present are interesting, but our focus should be on hospitality at the table and in the community itself.

  • The Eucharist stands as the heart of Christian life, a sacrament that encapsulates and unifies the meaning of the Christian narrative and worldview.

    The Eucharist is a direct continuation of Jesus' open-table ministry, welcoming all Christians to partake, challenging societal divisions, and embodying kenotic love—self-giving for others. It offers a counter-narrative to individualism, inviting participation in a sacred meal that affirms human dignity and purpose.

    As reflected in the Gospel that “Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me, and I in them,” this practice is a concrete way to unite a gathering while making Jesus present.

    Today, just as on the Emmaus Road, Christians meet Jesus through the blessing and sharing of bread and wine, and sharing a meal with intention.

    The practice, engaged by the first Christians as mentioned in the Didache, continues to make real Jesus’ teaching and presence.

Essential Reading List