This is the Book in progress.
Well, let's just get this Father of Lies thing out of the way, shall we? I'm not trying to keep any secrets. What's the father of lies? It's the lie that we are separate from God.
Why am I writing about Paul? Instead of about me or Paul. I want you to like me, that's why. But is this the book someone writes who wants to be liked? I mean it's a tell all about how spoiled and crazy I am. And if I'm spoiled and lazy, can you really trust me about Paul and the foundations of Christianity?
Paul is the founder of Christianity in its predominately post-crucifixion form.
In the Gospel of John, Jesus says to those who had believed in him (to paraphrase a translation of a translation of a translation): "you do not understand what I say, because you are children of the "devil," and he is a liar, and the father of lies, and there is no truth in him." Who is this Mr. Delville? I have no interest in claiming the title, I can assure you. The gospel of John was written nearly 50 years after Paul was writing his letters.
I am not interested in arguing the existence or non-existence of God. In order to try and prove or disprove such a concept, first we'd have to define the word, God. Anselm of Canterbury, over a thousand years ago, defined God as "that than which, nothing greater can be conceived." I certainly would not argue against the existence of a realm or context way beyond the power of our conceptual mind, or any tools of our observation, like telescopes, to understand. The point at which the universe becomes a mystery seems a good place to begin a working conceptualization of the divine suitable to a so-called "rational" perspective.
I do argue that the representation of the divine contained in the best selling book of all time, the Bible, is limiting, constraining, and oppressive to the divine, and to our mind and society. This is a representation of my story to the best of my ability, and it is a redistribution of all the information I have gathered in these 38 years of puzzled observation. I may have entered religious, seminary, education with a hypothesis, but I will share what I learned. This is a book for the religious and irreligious. I think I have some good news to deliver.
Remember the rules of Groundlings improvisation. We do not call each other crazy. I have some stories though, of privileged, post traumatic, lunacy. And please forgive me when I sound like a pompous, educated, academic, liberal, asshole. I am that. I am.
This is my story and Paul's story. That is, it's about the invention of my life and the invention of Christianity. One event, I had very little to do with. Possibly nothing, except maybe some of my atoms might have been used in the land of ancient Palestine. The other event, my life, I've been present for, not always willingly or consciously.
I'm a miserable fuck actually, at least that's one of the stories I tell myself. I had a tortured childhood; privileged ridiculously, cultured, fed, world travelled, loved, and also ignored, isolated, and lied to constantly, even about my own father. I had no consistent parents. On the levels of parental and grand-parental abuse, there is plausible deniability, they all had a victim narrative. I was the lucky one. Everyone did the best they could, and they were all fucked up, so who can blame them for my own mind fuck?
Why am I writing about Paul? Instead of about me or Paul. I want you to like me, that's why. But is this the book someone writes who wants to be liked? I mean it's a tell all about how spoiled and crazy I am. And if I'm spoiled and lazy, can you really trust me about Paul and the foundations of Christianity?
Paul is the founder of Christianity in its predominately post-crucifixion form.
In the Gospel of John, Jesus says to those who had believed in him (to paraphrase a translation of a translation of a translation): "you do not understand what I say, because you are children of the "devil," and he is a liar, and the father of lies, and there is no truth in him." Who is this Mr. Delville? I have no interest in claiming the title, I can assure you. The gospel of John was written nearly 50 years after Paul was writing his letters.
I am not interested in arguing the existence or non-existence of God. In order to try and prove or disprove such a concept, first we'd have to define the word, God. Anselm of Canterbury, over a thousand years ago, defined God as "that than which, nothing greater can be conceived." I certainly would not argue against the existence of a realm or context way beyond the power of our conceptual mind, or any tools of our observation, like telescopes, to understand. The point at which the universe becomes a mystery seems a good place to begin a working conceptualization of the divine suitable to a so-called "rational" perspective.
I do argue that the representation of the divine contained in the best selling book of all time, the Bible, is limiting, constraining, and oppressive to the divine, and to our mind and society. This is a representation of my story to the best of my ability, and it is a redistribution of all the information I have gathered in these 38 years of puzzled observation. I may have entered religious, seminary, education with a hypothesis, but I will share what I learned. This is a book for the religious and irreligious. I think I have some good news to deliver.
Remember the rules of Groundlings improvisation. We do not call each other crazy. I have some stories though, of privileged, post traumatic, lunacy. And please forgive me when I sound like a pompous, educated, academic, liberal, asshole. I am that. I am.
This is my story and Paul's story. That is, it's about the invention of my life and the invention of Christianity. One event, I had very little to do with. Possibly nothing, except maybe some of my atoms might have been used in the land of ancient Palestine. The other event, my life, I've been present for, not always willingly or consciously.
I'm a miserable fuck actually, at least that's one of the stories I tell myself. I had a tortured childhood; privileged ridiculously, cultured, fed, world travelled, loved, and also ignored, isolated, and lied to constantly, even about my own father. I had no consistent parents. On the levels of parental and grand-parental abuse, there is plausible deniability, they all had a victim narrative. I was the lucky one. Everyone did the best they could, and they were all fucked up, so who can blame them for my own mind fuck?
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