Tag: Theological perspective

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Evil, by Phillip Hoyle

I hate capitalized words in philosophy and theology. It’s okay if those words stand at the beginning of a sentence, but even then, if it’s a word like evil or truth, I get the jitters. The problem for me goes way back to the days I was paying attention to philosophical matters related to religion. In my early twenties I came to appreciate my childhood and teen years because in church we never said what was called “The Lord’s Prayer.” We knew it because it was in the Bible, but that prayer was not said in unison as an element of weekly liturgy. I grew up in a “free church” tradition congregation. There were no liturgical prayers except a benediction song, “God be with you ’til we meet again.” Our prayers were spontaneous improvisations related to the moment.

At age 22 I took a job in an urban church that met in a modified Gothic building with medieval-looking art glass windows and aped liturgical tradition although it taught the same Free Church approach as the church of my upbringing. Because of my studies I was especially sensitive over the weekly repetition of the Lord’s Prayer, knowing it was archaic and a bad translation. In short, I did not grow up saying weekly what most Christians said, “Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.” I knew evil should be translated the evil one, that mythological ascription to the devil or Satan. I was not interested in such myths and fears. I had never dreamed of such a being and have still not done so. I knew there were enough real moral challenges that dwelt in me as well as in social life. I wasn’t attracted to reifying ancient language as if it were scientific. I felt I was lucky while at the same time I worked to examine the educational effects of weekly saying something one didn’t believe. No wonder people who grew up in those old-fashioned liturgical churches often rejected them. No wonder some of them claimed that religion was itself the origin of all evil in the world.

I knew unhealthy activities made up a part of my life. I knew that I was much less than perfect. I also knew perfection wasn’t my goal in life. I simply wanted to live in relationship with many people from all walks of life (to the extent that I understood life at such an early age). I wasn’t judgmental about their decisions and was more interested in my goals than in my disappointments. Also I was not interested to blame my foibles on some external power in the universe. I accepted that all persons, all organizations, all best intentions were also subject to being imperfect, that all visions of perfection were imperfect and ultimately unattainable. I focused on the ethical tradition “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” That seemed enough to me. And it still seems adequate. I do sometimes say a quiet prayer silently. Deliver me from mistaken images of evil that will invite me to pound a wedge between me and the vast world of difference such as difference of race, nationality, values, hopes, dreams, commitments, and so much more. I have too much fun meeting life as it presents itself and too little time to fret over my own or another’s evil. I do hope to love my enemies, to serve my communities in hopes of building better opportunities for all people. I do hope for a better world. But deliver me from evil? Too metaphysical for me.

© 26 June 2017

About the Author

Phillip Hoyle lives in Denver and spends his time writing, painting, and socializing. In general he keeps busy with groups of writers and artists. Following thirty-two years in church work and fifteen in a therapeutic massage practice, he now focuses on creating beauty. He volunteers at The Center leading the SAGE program “Telling Your Story.”

He also blogs at artandmorebyphilhoyle.blogspot.com

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Alas, Poor…, by Phillip Hoyle

“Alas,” poor Myrna may have said after twenty-nine years of marriage with me. “Alas, my husband is a gay man.”

Surely she said something like that at some point. Before we separated she lived for over two years knowing of my infidelity. Of course that infidelity had been going on many years more. Her first hint of it must have occurred when I was thirty years old and only flirting. The unmistakable certainty came many years later. I know this because around the time we separated she told our daughter, “Your dad is gay, and I’ve known it for twenty years.” I don’t know just what she knew about homosexuality when we were 30 years old, but I assume that she realized that I had experienced a change in feelings and showed a new kind of interest in someone else. Perhaps she assumed I had lost my love for her or I wanted out of our marriage; she feared separation and divorce. My continuing interest in our own sexual relationship during those following twenty years may have led her revise her cry to, “Alas, I have married a bisexual.” When we talked, she said of homosexuality that she had no problem with it. She added, “But it’s not supposed to be your husband!” (I‘m sure the explanation point I’ve used was there in her voice.) Alas.

My own “Alas, poor…” relates to the same matter but from an institutional perspective. I say, “Alas, poor churches…” given the unreality of a common American, rather liberal church stand on issues gay. These churches seem to be saying, “It’s not supposed to be your Sunday school teacher, spouse, scout master, board chairperson, or minister.” Even more curious than that, a number of churches seem to be wringing their hands over their positions on homosexuality by retreating into an assertion of sin as action, relegating homosexuality to be somehow a problem of original sin or something similar if you don’t believe in original sin? You may be homosexual, which in itself they say is not a sin, but you cannot do it, meaning have sex with a person of the same sex. I first read the idea in a United Presbyterian Church statement back in 1978. Since then the statement has appeared in United Methodist papers, sometimes used by Disciples of Christ and others, then surprisingly to me lately adopted by the rather conservative Roman Catholic Church, and even more surprising to me recently touted by the Church of Jesus Christ of the Latter Day Saints. Alas, just what are they thinking? It’s difficult for me to fathom, but perhaps it’s a complaint on their parts. Something like, “Alas, those pesky homosexuals are everywhere.” I haven’t even spent time imagining their comments related to bisexual and transgendered persons. Still I say, “Alas, those poor theologians, scholars, clergy, and committees assigned the task of writing something that can be accepted across the storm waters of their denominations’ theological diversities.” Even the rather theologically liberal National Council of Churches couldn’t figure out how to be nice to the queer Metropolitan Community Church denomination when it requested membership.

Alas, will it ever get better? Can councils respond only to majority votes? You know, It’s not supposed to be your husband; not you wife, certainly not your minister.

I say “Alas, those poor folk who cling so closely to traditions that stifle the change that’s going to happen anyway.” And, of course, that includes me. I am in no way perfect. My challenge has been to provide as much continuity as possible in all the change and do so in ways that embrace both the change and the best potentials from the past. Alas, woe is me in trying to explain such a convoluted philosophy. But let’s just decide to play together anyway and keep seeking joy in one another.

© 2014


Denver, 2015

Phillip Hoyle lives in Denver and spends his time writing, painting, and socializing. In general he keeps busy with groups of writers and artists. Following thirty-two years in church work and fifteen in a therapeutic massage practice, he now focuses on creating beauty. He volunteers at The Center leading the SAGE program “Telling Your Story.”

He also blogs at artandmorebyphilhoyle.blogspot.com