The Flesh Again, With Fasting as an Example

OK, so I'm fully aware that there is a bit of revisionist history going on here, but I'd like to claim that among the early ascetics, those who got it right were the ones who saw that the way to spiritual maturity was not to transcend (or mortify) their flesh, but to transform their flesh. And the transformation process is one of reprogramming.

Let's take fasting as an example. I used to think that fasting was some means of bribing God (like people who go on hunger strikes to protest various causes). I want God to do something really bad, so I'll quit eating to show him how serious I am. And I don't want to discount the "fast and pray" injunctions and the relation between the two.

But my understanding of the practice of fasting has been transformed by the model of flesh and spirit I've been propounding. On this model, fasting is like doing spiritual calisthenics. My flesh is programmed to want food three times (or more per day); I don't have to have food for about 30-40 days, but I've been habituated to it. By fasting, I am practicing to let my spirit/person/soul have sway over the desires of the flesh. It builds up the "spirit muscle" so that when other kinds of fleshly desires may rear their ugly heads, my spirit has had practice at saying 'no' to such things. I see it very much along the lines of junior high basketball players practicing dribbling around chairs and crossing-over their dribble. This develops in them a skill, or a natural predilection, that is immediately transferable to the game situation.

I have found in my own life that when I am fasting consistently, I seem to have more spiritual power. I am "in shape" in spiritual life. When I don't fast, I tend to get a bit flabby and lazy and out of shape.

Lying

One of my wife's and my favorite contemporary novelists is Alexander McCall Smith. Last night we were reading his Sunday Philosophy Club and came across these two paragraphs about lying:

"Of course, not all lies were wrong, which was another respect, Isabel thought, in which Kant was mistaken. One of the most ridiculous things that he had ever said was that there was a duty to tell the truth to the murderer looking for his victim. If the murderer came to one's door and asked, Is he in? one would be obliged to answer truthfully, even if this would lead to the death of an innocent person. Such nonsense; and she could remember the precise offending passage: 'Truthfulness in statement which cannot be avoided is the formal duty of an individual to everyone, however great may be the disadvantage accruing to himself or to another.'...

The answer, surely, is that lying in general is wrong, but that some lies, carefully identified as the exception, will be permissible. There were, therefore, good lies and bad lies, with good lies being uttered for a benevolent reason (to protect the feeling of another, for example). If somebody asked one's opinion of a newly acquired--but tasteless--possession, for instance, and one gave an honest answer, then that could hurt feelings and deprive the other of the joy of ownership. So one lied, and praised it, which was surely the right thing to do. Or was it? Perhaps it was not as simple as that. If one became accustomed to lying in such circumstances, the line between truth and falsehood could become blurred."

Tomorrow I'll try to get back to the morass I've gotten into regarding the flesh and spiritual formation (the folks on Facebook, where this blog automatically posts, are jumping all over me!).

Tuesday's Blog about Blogging

In the analysis of my blog traffic by statcounter, it tracks the last 500 page loads. Of these, about half have gone directly to this page. Then, there are the links out there from which people find this blog. Of these, my Facebook Profile page narrowly leads the way over the links on the blog of the very hip Derry Prenkert . Holding a solid third (not that it's a competition) is the blog of one of the very few successful youth ministers who became successful deans: Terry Linhart .

Then there are a couple of other bloggers out there giving the occasional electronic shout out to Stump Speeches: Bob Carder is an old district board buddy now involved in church planting out in the plains somewhere. Find his blog here. And Nate Loucks--my star epistemology student--directs a few folks here from his xanga site.

Today I'm trying to return some love. I can't help wondering if the first people who wrote books on dinosaur skins or chiseled them on rocks passed them around to each other and said, "I'll read yours if you'll read mine."

The web is a wild, wonderful place.

Monday after Father's Day

We had a lovely Father's Day yesterday. Came home from church and put some steaks on the grill. My family got me a nice sound system for the computer (with subwoofer!). That has me sampling all the music on the computer.

Sampling all the music has me deciding to make it a Monday tradition of easing into the week with something light-hearted (two weeks in a row makes it a tradition!). Traditions need some explaining:

I have a sister who lives in Sao Paulo, Brasil. We were able to go visit her and her family at Christmas time last year. During the 8 or 9 days we were there, we calculated that we spent 30 hours in the car trying to get around the city and to the beaches. During those 30 hours of very close quarters, something had to occupy the kids, so we listened (over and over) to what we called the "Brasil Silly Songs".

Here's another offering from the Brasil Silly Songs Greatest Hits: Cheech the School Bus Driver. (This is high class stuff.)

Flesh is neutral

The last post could leave the impression that the flesh is bad. On the interpretation I'm trying to articulate, flesh in itself is not bad. Christ became "flesh" -- the same Greek word the NIV translates as "sinful nature" most of the time in Paul's letters.

What I'm claiming is that flesh itself is neutral. Flesh can be trained or "programmed" to be a positive or a negative in our lives, because it is so capable of sustaining habits (see earlier post on this). The issue is that given the tendency to sin that we've inherited and given the fact that we exist in a very fallen culture which encourages the development of certain habits, the "flesh" for most of us is something we have to overcome when we become Christians.

The point of the spiritual disciplines, then, is to retrain the flesh to sustain positive habits. This is what Jesus did (WWJD). His flesh was a boon to his spiritual life, rather than a bane.

More to come...

(this bonus post for the day is brought to you by the fact that Red Sox are on TV again and I'm sitting here with the laptop!)

Spirit and flesh redux

OK, let's try this again. Galatians 5:16f in the NRSV (not the NIV, because it translates sarx as "sinful nature" rather than "flesh"):

Live by the spirit, I say, and do not gratify the desires of the flesh. For what the flesh desires is opposed to the spirit, and what the spirit desires is opposed to the flesh; for these are opposed to each other to prevent you from doing what you want.

Does this speak to anyone's experience other than mine? Or we might go to Romans 7:

I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate... But in fact it is no longer I that do it, but sin that dwells within me. For I know that nothing good dwells within me, that is, in my flesh. I can will what is right but I cannot do it.

Here again we're talking about two different agendas at play. "I" (my spirit/soul that has been regenerated) want to do what's right, but this flesh that is also "me" seems to want other stuff that conflicts. Paul goes so far as to say that it is not "I" that do the bad stuff, but the sin dwelling in my flesh.

This is tough stuff to explain unless we have recourse to the actual, physical flesh that has become habituated in certain ways. Remembering that our brains are part of that, and that the neural pathways that have been formed govern (they don't dictate completely except in extreme situations) my thoughts, attitudes, emotions, etc. Here, then, is why spiritual formation must pay attention to our fleshly existence.

Spirit, flesh, and Mona Lisa

"The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak." So said Jesus about the disciples when they couldn't stay awake. There is a consistent ontology of flesh and spirit in Scripture. Some argue about this, but I see it pretty plainly. And I think the best argument for it is that such an ontology best explains the data of spiritual formation.

If this were a philosophy paper, I'd have to get a lot more sophisticated, but I don't think we lose too much by claiming that human beings are spirit and flesh. These are not two different parts that make up one whole (the way it takes hydrogen and oxygen atoms to make water molecules). Rather, there is an essential substance (the spirit/soul/person) and a mode of its existence (human flesh).
By way of analogy (and it's only an analogy), consider the Mona Lisa. The picture to the left is the "Mona Lisa" in the medium of crayon. This is possible, because there is something that IS the Mona Lisa, and that thing can be represented in different media.

So, we might say that the thing that is me (my spirit/soul/person) is currently "represented" in human flesh. It seems possible, then, that it could be represented in something else, like a spiritual body (the soma pneumatica of 1Cor. 15).

OK, lots of objections come to mind here (Could I be "represented" in beetle flesh? No. You couldn't. Perhaps I'll get to that in another post. Am I not essentially human? Hmmm... Let's just let that sit for a bit.) The point I want to draw out is that even when I'm "born again", my spirit may be reborn, and I genuinely desire and will to do the right things, but I'm still enfleshed. And we know what flesh means: habits. God doesn't seem to take away the habits of the flesh for most of us at conversion. The good news is, we don't have to be slaves to the flesh any more, and with the assistance of the Holy Spirit we can retrain our flesh.

Whoa... too much to digest. We'll let this sit and try again tomorrow. There's really some very important stuff for spiritual formation in all this.

Wishing, Desiring, Intending

I wish I had a million dollars; I wish I were snorkeling in the Caribbean; I wish the Sunnis and Shiites would quit blowing each other up. That is, I can form a positive mental image of the object of my wish. When I conceive of it happening, I have good feelings about it.

I desire to learn to speak Spanish. I desire to run a sub-20 minute 5k. I desire to organize my office. That is, beyond forming a positive mental image about these things, every once in a while I engage in a flurry of activity that has something to do with achieving these goals. I consistently want to do them, and have resolved (several times, in fact) to make these things happen, but none of them are currently achieved (nor, if I'm being brutally honest, do I expect them to happen any time soon).

I intend to write a book. I intend to go camping at Cornerstone again this year. I intend to pay off the van loan by the end of the summer. That is, beyond wishing for these things, and beyond desiring them and resolving to accomplish them, I am currently engaged in practices which have reliably shown to lead to the intended goal. I am committed to seeing them happen and have prioritized accordingly.

Wishing, desiring, intending... If we asked Christians where on that scale would the goal of "Becoming more like Christ" fall, I fear that for most of us it is somewhere between wishing and desiring.

Equally we might ask about "Becoming spiritually mature" or (to use Willard's blunt example) "stopping sinning", or to link an earlier post, "learning to obey all that Jesus has commanded". What does this tell us about the depth of Christianity as practiced in 21st century America?

Tuesday's Blog on Blogging

Here continues my public reflections on the process of reflecting publicly. I'm settling into the rhythm of posting almost every day. I feel like the Israelites going out onto the desert sand every morning to find some manna. The thrill of seeing it the first few mornings probably wore off after a while. Then it became work.

Some must have been thinking, "God, if you're going to miraculously make manna appear, why can't you just make it appear in our cupboards?" It would be any harder for him, would it? And it would save us a lot of work! Evidently that's not God's style.

Blogging, then, becomes the metaphor for manna collection, which is the graphic reality of God's decision to work with us--not to work for us. And then again, the benefit of blogging is primarily for the blogger--not for the bloggee.

It's easy to read other people's interesting thoughts, good ideas, profound insights; but that rarely does much for you. Having to work through it yourself, putting your own hiney on the line--there's where the benefit lies (or is it lays... pretty sure it's lies).

Of course there's the continuing irony that if there weren't a few people out there actually reading the stuff, then it wouldn't really be blogging... it would just be keeping a diary. Thanks to the readers who keep us honest.

Monday, Monday

Today is Monday. It takes a while into the week for me to have anything to say. Here is a song instead.

Monday, Monday

See if you can make it all the way through.