But I Say
Christopher B. Harbin
Matthew 5:21-37
There are things we hear and process according to terms and patterns we grew up with. We may not be aware how well or poorly those patterns reflect reality or what we hear. What we know speaks so loudly, it becomes hard to step back to evaluate it from a fresh perspective. I know the sun does not travel across the sky, but the earth spinning on its axis makes it appear so. I still use language about the sun rising and setting, for that is the language I know. I have to stop and catch myself to remember it is the earth spinning in relation to the sun. Why should I be surprised if I do the same with theological concepts we should have discarded generations ago?
We live and view the world through constructs of which we are often unaware. They establish patterns that enable us not to think about them, accepting them like the background noises we hear as a soundtrack to our lives. Most of the time I am unaware of my breathing. My mind filters out the sounds of my breathing, so I might hear other things I would find more important. I normally do not notice the glasses on my face. When someone stretches out a hand with fingers toward me and thumb pointed up, I don't wonder what they are doing. These are like ambient noises in our lives. They are so routine and we rarely stop to think about them.
When it comes to our theological reflections, some of the same happens. There is a background we accept as a matter of course. We don't really question it. We don't check to see if there is any basis for it. It is just there, coloring our perceptions of other notions we hear, read, or consider. It is much like the language base from which we speak. I cannot use a verb in English without first determining whether it refers to the present, the past, or the future. Verbs in Hebrew carry no temporal marking. Time can be expressed in Hebrew, but not by its verbal forms. Many friends from Latin Am ...
Christopher B. Harbin
Matthew 5:21-37
There are things we hear and process according to terms and patterns we grew up with. We may not be aware how well or poorly those patterns reflect reality or what we hear. What we know speaks so loudly, it becomes hard to step back to evaluate it from a fresh perspective. I know the sun does not travel across the sky, but the earth spinning on its axis makes it appear so. I still use language about the sun rising and setting, for that is the language I know. I have to stop and catch myself to remember it is the earth spinning in relation to the sun. Why should I be surprised if I do the same with theological concepts we should have discarded generations ago?
We live and view the world through constructs of which we are often unaware. They establish patterns that enable us not to think about them, accepting them like the background noises we hear as a soundtrack to our lives. Most of the time I am unaware of my breathing. My mind filters out the sounds of my breathing, so I might hear other things I would find more important. I normally do not notice the glasses on my face. When someone stretches out a hand with fingers toward me and thumb pointed up, I don't wonder what they are doing. These are like ambient noises in our lives. They are so routine and we rarely stop to think about them.
When it comes to our theological reflections, some of the same happens. There is a background we accept as a matter of course. We don't really question it. We don't check to see if there is any basis for it. It is just there, coloring our perceptions of other notions we hear, read, or consider. It is much like the language base from which we speak. I cannot use a verb in English without first determining whether it refers to the present, the past, or the future. Verbs in Hebrew carry no temporal marking. Time can be expressed in Hebrew, but not by its verbal forms. Many friends from Latin Am ...
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