Deconstruction & the Search for Brother Noah
Sometimes when I am having long conversations with my friends, I accidentally say things that I later realize I don’t actually believe. I remember a conversation I had a few years ago about deconstruction in which I claimed that “Deconstruction is useless without reconstruction.” I suppose there is some truth to this, but I was unprepared to make such an assumption at the time. What do either of those words actually mean? Moreover, where do they fall within our own stories as participants in the life of God?
Noah has been on my mind recently. My father invited me to his men’s Bible study two weeks ago, and the pastor gave a short talk about the Flood, what it means, and why he believes that such an event actually happened. When it was my turn to speak during the small group portion, I acknowledged that I hadn’t interacted with the literalist interpretation of Genesis in years, and was under the impression that the story is meant to be literary. It shocked me to see how aghast the other men in my group appeared as I spoke. But more than that, within myself I recognized a bitterness and judgment regarding the dominant, literalist interpretation. I had undergone a deconstruction in regards to this particular story but wasn’t willing to converse about the topic graciously. I recalled what the pastor had said about Noah’s abundant faith and thought about how much different my view of God and the divine life would be if I read the story literally. On the one hand, I personally feel I would have no choice but to view God as a genocidal, tyrannical ruler. I also feel that I would also have to disregard scientific fact. On the other hand, I envision that I’d find great solace in the person of Noah, who lived hundreds of years in social exclusion because of his unusual ark project as a response to God’s calling and blessing over his life. Imagining Noah as a real person is a recognition of the obedience that is possible within each of us as real people ourselves. We non-literalists tend to lose that part of the message, don’t we?
However, I often feel that I am no longer even able to believe that the Flood actually happened. I am comforted to know that Christians have debated this since the earliest days of the church—believing that the Bible uses literary devices in place of historical or scientific fact is not a new position. However, I’m not here to debate Biblical literalism. Rather, I want to return to my earlier question. Where does deconstruction fit into the life of God? In my own experience, I am beginning to realize that “deconstruction” is not necessarily a choice we make, but something that involves choices once it has arrived before us. For example, my own deconstructions have all-too-often fed into outward arrogance. After receiving a formal, Christian college education and realizing more of my own positions when it comes to Scripture and the Christian life, I have tended to judge others for not having come to the same conclusions. I can’t understand why anyone wouldn’t want to find Christ’s freedom in the exact same way I’ve found it. Isn’t this posture of hard-heartedness the exact thing that sets most people on the path of deconstruction to begin with? I know it was for me. We feel the need to deconstruct because those around us have declared something over us well in our own hearts and minds. And so we change. We try to become fuller versions of ourselves and fill those empty voids with newer, better things, but all too often we end up bitter and resigned, harshly judging those around us just as we were once judged.
In all our deconstructions and enlightenments, we lose the essence of what God is teaching us through Brother Noah. He promises Noah that he “will never again curse the ground because of humankind,” and so we know that God is abundantly faithful. In the story, God is the one who closes the door before the Flood, keeping Noah, his family, and all of the animals safe from the mess outside which would be debated for centuries to come. Because of this, we know that God is gracious and kind. We often imagine the story as God “starting over,” but this is far from the truth. Instead, God chooses to bless Noah, not only including him in the regeneration of his world, but making him an integral part of that process. God gave Noah the vocation of Adam—to tend and care for the world he had created. What if we saw ourselves in this same way, as living participants in the ongoing work of God’s new reality? God has not directly saved most of us from any particular floods, but through Christ he has saved us from the trapping poverty of sin.
The Bible teaches that Noah was unlike the violent people of his community—instead he was favored by God and chose to obey him. Because of Christ’s sacrifice, we have the opportunity to live like Brother Noah regardless of the ways we have previously participated in the world’s violence. I imagine that in the story, the interior of the ark must have been pitch-black at times as a storm raged around its exterior. When Noah, Noah’s family, and all of the animals of the world and onto the finally-dry land, they must have seen the world with such newness, possibility, and light after being in the dark for so long. In the same way, when we emerge from our own interior darknesses and into God’s life and light, there is so much possible for us. So why do we continue choosing cynicism and judgment, even as we claim to stand in God’s light of possibility?
When I told my friend my thoughts on de- and re-construction, I remember wondering why I had chosen to say that. I hadn’t reconstructed much at all myself. Instead, I’d deconstructed the stories about God I’d been handed and then simply wallowed there, calling myself a Christian but choosing not to participate in the divine life whatsoever. There is nothing wrong with questioning and trying to better understand who God is as long as we continue to proclaim Jesus Christ as Lord and fully trust him with our lives. But often in the process of Christian deconstruction, we forget that we are dealing with a sacred text that holds a wealth of ancient wisdom. Literalist or literary scholar, conservative or progressive, mainline Protestant or Roman Catholic, we must understand that God has something to say to us here and now through every story in the Scriptures. A beloved teacher said to my classmates and I earlier this month, “Whatever you do next, you must continually ask yourself: Am I pursuing justice, transformation, and wellness as I move forward?” I have thought about this often in the last few weeks. When it comes to deconstruction, we must always ask ourselves where we are and where we are going. Where is deconstruction taking us? Does it lead us to abundance, fullness, and humility? Or does it lead us towards bitterness, hate, and cynicism?
Friends, I pray that you would rest in God’s kindness and grace as you navigate difficult questions and pursue truth. Remember that Jesus is faithful.
Peace, Charles
