The Naked Gospel by Andrew Farley

The Naked Gospel: The Truth You May Never Hear in Church by Andrew Farley begins with an epigraph by Arthur Bury from 1691, making the claim that the naked gospel “was the gospel which our Lord and his apostles preached,” which is what I expected this book to do. I expected to read a new take on Jesus theology, in which I would learn a bit more about what Jesus said and did and the ways in which those actions were revolutionary. I would have loved this book if that had been what it really did. What I got instead was a whole different story involving Paul, a Jew who supposedly grew to have no use for his traditional religious upbringing, and those people who came after Paul who also saw no need for relationship with the Jewish Scriptures. How, can I ask, does this present “the gospel which our Lord and his apostles preached”? Instead, possibly the epigraph should have been a quote from Origen who thought that Paul “taught the Church which he had gathered from among the Gentiles how to understand the books of the Law” and then ignore them. It seems as if Farley spends quite a bit of time discussing Paul and Paul’s aversion to his own tradition, which doesn’t seem like a Naked Gospel, but more of an interrogation of Paul. That being said, this book isn’t all bad; it just wasn’t what I expected.

Farley provides an excellent critique of our desire to remain staid in our own complacent following of hollow rules that we perceive make us good Christians. However, I am not sure that early Christians would agree with his reading of the meaning of old and new and the ways that he argues Christians are called to live a new life without considering the laws or the Jewish Scriptures. It makes no sense to advocate the very heavy disregard for the early Christians’ previous religious experience, especially because there is substantial evidence to the contrary. In fact, the very people Farley discusses—Peter, Paul, and the other apostles—did not leave the Jewish faith. They merely reconfigured their previous beliefs to fit with their newly acquired faith in Jesus as the Messiah. Particularly, Matthew adheres to his Jewish roots as he tried to convince both Gentiles and Jews that Jesus is the Messiah. Making such an adamant break from discussing Jewish traditions and religion is a major weakness of Farley’s text. I do agree with his assessment that Christians need to learn to avoid “the painful symptoms of un-necessary religion” (31), but does this need to be done by completely breaking away from tradition or previous manifestations of religious worship? I think not. Even Paul, who Farley quotes sometimes very out of context, references his own religious and secular traditions as well as the religious and secular leaders of his time.

The main tenet that Farley proposes with which I agree is the idea that we are free from sin. We are always already forgiven, and too many Christians don’t realize it. They are crippled by the perceived necessity to keep accounts of their sins and to compulsively ask forgiveness for those sins, sometimes to the point of unhealthy self-reflectivity and analysis. I love the song “Everything Glorious” by David Crowder Band, because it makes this claim so well. I think Farley is getting at the same question as Crowder: “You make everything glorious and I am Yours, so what does that make me?” According to Farley, “It’s important to understand that we’re joined to the risen Christ, not to a dead religious teacher” (180). I would even take this a step further and say that we are the risen Christ. Whatever is to be done on this earth now, is to be done through us as we are the manifestation of the work that Jesus did on the cross. We are required to be Christ to people: “Genuine growth occurs as we absorb truth about who we already are and what we already possess in Christ” (187). I concur.

In short, I liked this book because it challenges several commonly held beliefs in contemporary Christianity, such as the idea that we have to change who we are to be perfect Christians. As Farly writes, “Having Christ live through you is really about knowing who you are and being yourself. Since Christ is your life, your source of true fulfillment, you’ll only be content when you are expressing him” (194). I agree but my main complaints about this book can speak directly to this idea: what if the way you experience Christ living through you includes a love for and an adherence to those “Old Testament” ideas that he claims are null and void? Can we really claim that the naked gospel is a gospel void of any sense of tradition or Jewish scripture, relying solely on tradition and reason to inform our actions as Christians? I don’t think so. I don’t think this is really “Jesus plus nothing.” It’s more like Jesus nothing with a heaping helping of misread Paul. I would recommend this book, simply so people could wrestle through all of these ideas as Farley adeptly challenges the reader to think critically about a variety of ideas.

You can read this and other reviews of the same book at Viral Bloggers.

Motivation and Book Reviews

I haven’t been so motivated to write in my blog since I put it private in order to thwart those people who might take what I say here and twist it for their own evil purposes. I am really not paranoid. Paranoia would imply that I have an irrational fear that people are talking about me or that they are out to get me. My fear is not irrational; I have proof. There are people out there who delight in the misfortune of others, who are not above spreading lies or half-truths about people, and who I suppose have nothing better to do than make others miserable by maligning them. But good comes from everything.

I can use this time period of my sequestered blog in the fall when I talk about audience in my English classes. I would like to say that I write for the pleasure of writing, but this few weeks has taught me that I write for the pleasure of knowing that someone is reading it. Is this a bad thing? I think it can be. It can be detrimental to let yourself simply write for the pleasure of knowing that someone is reading it. Shouldn’t someone who aspires to be a writer write for the sake of the act itself? I plan to write and read for pleasure this summer, which may help this malady. School may be part of the reason I write for an audience. I wonder if too many years of writing things for other people to read in order to acquire a grade has ruined my ability to write for pleasure.

Today marks the day when I begin writing here again. I have three book reviews to do for The Ooze, which will be posted here. I have been putting them off because of all the other things I have had going lately. I hope they don’t decide I can’t get books and review them anymore. I’d be sad, even though I have only liked one of the three books I have reviewed. I think I would have liked the other two, but they were advertised as something they decidedly were not. Stay tuned for the three book reviews to pop up shortly. The books I will review will be A People’s History of Christianity: The Other Side of the Story by Diana Butler Bass, The Naked Gospel: The Truth You May Never Hear in Church by Andrew Farley, and Who Really Goes to Hell? The Gospel You’ve Never Heard: What a Protestant Bible Written by Jews Says About God’s Work Through Christ. The last book is by far the most intriguing, but they all seem to be a simple rehashing of all that’s come before them. We’ll see as I write three distinct reviews.

A Little Video I Stole From A Student

70 Million by Hold Your Horses ! from L'Ogre on Vimeo.

This Is Why I Teach. Fat Marathon Runner.

I had an excellent conversation—and it really was a conversation—with one of my high school students yesterday. He wanted to know about my use of Facebook and about my decision to temporarily deactivate my account. I am friends with him on Facebook and he has been involved in (or witness to) several heated arguments on my wall.

He wanted to know if that had anything to do with my decision to cancel Facebook. Yes. And I was spending way too much time on Facebook.

He wanted to know if I thought that it was someone’s right to write whatever they wanted on my wall. Yes, but I would enjoy it very much if everyone maintained an attitude of respect and would not call each other names.

He said he wondered if the fact that the wall is technically my property changed my opinion about that. Is it like defacing my property, he wondered, and would I ever delete something that someone put on my wall? No, I think of it as public space and people can say whatever they want if they say it respectfully. The only time I would delete it is if people were mean to each other, because I think mean people suck.

He then asked me if I thought Facebook should add more regulations to help monitor the things that people write on each other’s walls. Poor guy, he didn’t know he just unleashed a beast. Of course there shouldn’t be more regulations. There should never be more regulations; people simply need to learn how to monitor themselves and their behavior in all social situations. All Facebook has done is enable people to be cyberly passive-aggressive in a way that is more exaggerated than they can (or will) be face to face. For some reason, the anonymity of the screen allows us to treat people in ways that we would NEVER treat each other face to face. It’s kind of like warfare: if you don’t have to face the person you kill, the killing is easier, more remote, less personal. Do we still suffer from it? Yes. Do we recognize the suffering as readily? No, I don’t think so, because it is masked by the remote proximity of our interaction. I think the word anonymous may be too strong for what the cyber-relations provide us. Shielded. Blurred. Obfuscated. Those may be better descriptors for our online identities. At the very least, they don’t entirely match our fleshly personas. But I digress from the question. No, no more regulations. I am regulated to death in this earthly body. I don’t want my cyber body to be regulated, too.

He, of course, had a much more active part in this discourse than what I suggest here, because I said it was a conversation, not simply me pontificating. I don’t want to put words in his mouth.

*

On the running front, it is nine days until the half-marathon, and I think I am ready. I chose not to run today because I don’t want to re-injure my Achilles (heel) tendon, so I walked from my house to Starbucks where I am happily typing this entry while listening to the guy in the next chair noisily chomp, slosh his pastry and latte. I have seriously never heard someone smack lips, slide tongue like this wild maned, strangely-clad man. Uncombed, possibly for days, hair, maroon running pants, white t-shirt under inside-out grey sweatshirt, and brown leather dressy sandals. He waits tables at Johnny Carino’s. Or he did. I remember his face. Possibly in order to amplify the eating noises, he has his computer resting on the table between us and he is facing me, so that I can smell his cinnamony pastry as he chews. Apparently, we are close. And, apparently, he has never read Jamaica Kincaid’s “Girl,” or he would know to “always eat your food in such a way that it won’t turn someone else’s stomach.” Because you’re turning my stomach, Cuz.

Anyway, I walked some of the three miles barefoot and relished the coming summer. Even though there was frost on the grass, the pavement and sidewalks were warm from the sun. When my feet got tired of the grind of the asphalt, I begrudgingly put on my flip-flops and kept going. My legs and feet were glad for the walk, and I imagine that they look forward to a nice long, slow run tomorrow. I know I look forward to the eight miles on Saturday, hoping that my mental longing for peace and rhythmic breathing will result in the physical cooperation of my limbs and lungs. Ah. I rejoice in the clarity and the solitude of the run.

Yesterday, I contemplated making a special t-shirt to wear when I run the marathon in November. It will say, “I am morbidly obese and running a marathon.” I thought it might make a good point about BMI, and the way those numbers are used to keep people down. Fat people. Fat, running people like me. Although, wearing a shirt like that is a bit like tempting fate. What if I have a massive heart-attack around mile 20? What will people say? Did you see that fat chick drop over? No wonder she died. Why would a morbidly obese 36-year-old try to run a marathon? How could she have the nerve to wear a t-shirt that tempted fate? You see, these are the voices that already go through my head, so I contemplate the shirt. Ironically, it names my fears. Confronts them head on.

Cacomorphobia: the irrational fear of fat people.

Caligynephobia: the irrational fear of beautiful women.

Maybe my shirt should say, “Do you suffer from cacomorphobia and caligynephobia? Then you better watch out, ’cause Mama’s comin’!”

Thanks, Pittsburgh Pirates.

Dear Pittsburgh Pirates,

Thanks for being in last place in the National League. I feel very good about myself for choosing to be a fan of your team this year. My self-esteem needed this boost, and I am sure yours did too. Could you try hard not to completely suck for the rest of this year? If Baltimore ends up with a better record than you do, we’re through.

Sincerely,

A Newly Devoted Fan