the gift of repentance

It's customary at this time of year to sing the line, "Let every heart prepare him room", but probably less common to connect these words to the theme of repentance.  That's the gift of the Advent readings in the lectionary: the theme of preparation was set last week in the context of John's proclamation of a "baptism of repentance" in the wilderness.  I had the privilege of preaching the gospel text of Luke 3:7-14 last Sunday.

My own preparation led me to compare and contrast Luke's telling of the story with Matthew's (3:7-10).  Right from the beginning there is a significant difference from Matthew to Luke.  Whereas John the Baptizer's message of repentance was aimed at the "Pharisees and Sadducees" in Matthew, in Luke the wilderness preacher's call is extended to "the crowds that came out to be baptized by him" (Lk 3:7).  Matthew remembers that John called the "Pharisees and Sadducees" a "brood of vipers"; Luke remembers that John affixed that label to "the crowds".  Regardless of audience, however, the purpose of John's preaching was the same: "Bear fruits worthy of repentance" (Lk 3:8; Mt 3:8).

Luke, for his part, spells out the exact nature of such fruit-bearing repentance.  Luke's narrative will not allow  "the crowds"--like the Pharisees and Sadducees--to ritualize repentance (water baptism being one such form) apart from the will to "turn around" or "change direction."  Luke's John, more explicitly in this case than Matthew's, demands the making of amends.  John's proclamation of repentance in Luke is the repentance of Genesis's Jacob, he who tried, with physical gifts, to return his father's blessing mischievously taken from Esau his brother (Esau, for his part, had the grace to forgive without need of restitution, though that in no way cancels Jacob's obligation, for his part, to give).  Indeed, John's counsel to the crowds in Luke is, 

"Whoever has two coasts must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise"  (3:10-11).

It seems like a reasonable directive, one able to followed by rich and poor alike.  "Whoever has two coats", John says, can give one to someone in greater need.  "Whoever has food" should share with someone who has less (emphasis mine).

Advent, therefore, like the Christmas in which it ensues, is a time (and not the only time!) to put into practice the way of the kingdom which will arrive with the King, the one "coming after" John (see Lk 3:16). The preparation of Advent is the giving of gifts to others ahead of the Gift we all receive at Christmas.

-Joe

worthy are the children

I heard a hastily prepared sermon today on the Bible's teaching about children.

The preacher was obviously wrestling with Jesus' approach to children, struggling to reconcile how the kingdom of God could "belong to such as these" with the commandment to children to "honor your father and mother" (Mk 10:13-16; Ex 20:12).  He seemed to ultimately settle on the idea that children can teach adults about the kingdom of God only insofar as they honor their parents--not that children might have something unique to children that epitomizes the life of God.

Such a conclusion would seem to deny the evidence of the gospel story, however, since the situation that occasioned Jesus' rebuke to his disciples cannot imply obedient children.  If Jesus had to say, quite against the desires of those who were hindering children, "Let them come to me", what was it about those children that made the disciples so scornful of them?  If the children had been children who constantly towed the line of their parents' wishes (if they had parents at all), then surely they would have gone unnoticed or not been objectionable to those who wanted Jesus' attention for themselves.  In other words, might it not be precisely the children's excitement, their uninhibited curiosity, even their unruliness in trying to see Jesus, that Jesus commends?  Is the other side of the coin not then an implicit condemnation of an adult tendency to maintain the appearance of control rather than admit the childlike emotion of joy in the presence of the Christ who bids all to come to him?

What if the inherent worth of children is not at all tied to their mere functionality, to the services that they can render to adults, but to the fact that they are God's--indeed that the kingdom of God belongs to such as these?

That was a sentiment far too scarce in the sermon, and far too reflective of the actual practice of adults toward children in many quarters of society.

Jesus and the Children from Jesus Mafa

-Joe

curiosity that saves

On Sunday evening we read the story of Zacchaeus (Luke 19:1-10) as a family.  We finished our Bible study with the question, What do you learn about what kind of a person Jesus is from this story? 

I learned that Jesus is someone who only needs a small gesture of interest from a person in order to bring about what Luke calls “salvation” (which is tied in this text to economic justice)(vv. 8-10).  The text seems to emphasize Zacchaeus’s curiosity.

“He was trying to see who Jesus was” (v. 3).

“So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore tree to see him . . .” (v. 4).

“So he hurried down and was happy to welcome him” (v. 6).

Though Zacchaeus was a “sinner”, one despised by others (v. 7), he is the one who shows exceptional interest in Jesus.  It is that curiosity which Jesus recognizes—and which sets in motion the process of restitution, probable reconciliation (we don’t know how the crowd responded to Zacchaeus’s pledge to repay those he had defrauded), indeed salvation.  In the midst of all that are Jesus’ words of welcome to Zacchaeus—“Hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today”.  It is a welcome that Zacchaeus is only too eager to return (v. 6).  And it all began with Zacchaeus’s visible spark of interest in Jesus.

I take from the story encouragement for the work of ministry.  Jesus works with us, not because our resume is perfect (if that were the case, who could stand before the Lord?), but because he sees something in us with which he can work.  And, if this story is to be believed, that which Jesus sees may be nothing more than our desire to make a start with him.

-Joe

individual, community, God: the church at peace

Two weeks ago, I participated in a pastoral ordination for one of our members of Mennonite World Conference.  The event had been on our calendar for the entire year—it was much anticipated.  Because I had been asked to give leadership to the ordination, I did a lot of research on the practice of ordination within the Mennonite Church, trying to get my head around how to relate a structure or process for ordination within my sending denomination (MCUSA) to a much less-defined practice within the church in this case.  In the end, I think we managed something that could be deemed a success—a blending of practices, roles, and personalities that marked one pastor’s identity as a servant of God to the people to whom he has been called.

In my own preparation for the event, the text that grabbed my attention was 1 Timothy 4:12-5:2, a text in which the three participants named above—the pastor, God, and the people—are clearly visible.
The text is marked by a frame of implicit conflict or potential conflict within the church.  Such conflict is acknowledged in Paul’s exhortation to Timothy, “Let no one despise your youth” (4:12), and in his counsel to Timothy, “Do not speak harshly to an older man” [Greek: presbyter] (5:1).  In other words, at the beginning and end of this unit of scripture, conflict or the potential for conflict in the church is assumed.  If it was not so, why then does Paul deem it worthy to affirm Timothy’s calling in the face of those who would “despise his youth”?  Likewise, if the potential of young leaders such as Timothy to deride older leaders were not present, why then do we find Paul warning Timothy not to “speak harshly to an older man” (5:1)?  Indeed, the text acknowledges that conflict is close at hand.

But if the context of the text is conflict, then the substance of the text pertains to how Timothy—the addressee of this epistle (1 Tim 1:2)—might conduct himself within that conflict.  And though Christ is nowhere mentioned in this unit, we might not be surprised to learn that the method Paul lays down for Timothy for dealing with conflict has Christ written all over it.  To those who would despise his youth, Timothy should—rather than returning derision in the form of speaking harshly to an older man—“set the believers an example in speech and conduct, in love, in faith, in purity” (4:12b).  Timothy is not to concern himself with the insults of others, becoming fixated on them, but to “give attention to the public reading of scripture, to exhorting, to teaching” (4:13).  These are the things—the things of God and not the things of human beings (Mk 8:33)—that Timothy should “put into practice”, “devote [himself] to”, “continue in” (4:15, 16).  Timothy’s responsibility is to the scripture, the teaching of scripture, and his own integrity to that scripture-shaped life in the presence of others.  Indeed, Timothy is to “pay close attention to [himself] and to [his] teaching” (4:15).  As far as it concerns Timothy, the pastor for others, the scripture judges him before it judges his flock. 

The conduct of a Christian leader, therefore, is self-reflection, humility, and submission to God rather than the presumption to be like God.  The leader sets an example (4:12) of dependence on God which the people can follow—not with regard to the leader but to the leader’s Leader.  The goal of the church is not to play “follow the leader”; the church follows the leader in following God.

As implicit in the text as the conflict is the power of the example of “love, faith, and purity” to overcome the conflict.  It is entirely possible, even likely, that for a time the example will be despised by those who love darkness more than light (Jn 3:19).  That does not mean, however, that the example of love is not ultimately efficacious, for it is the power of God for all who have faith and even now are victorious precisely in keeping their purity in love in the midst of derision.  In the best of times, by God’s grace, the example of enduring love (which is Jesus Christ himself) will even win the derisive.  The example of “love, faith, and purity” always leaves open the door to redemption, the cessation of hostility and the embrace of peace—and that is why Paul commends it to Timothy.  Indeed, Paul insists that the example “will save both [Timothy] and [his] hearers (4:16).

At the very heart of the text is an image of the “saved” church.  It is an image of the people of God, so to speak, “in the beginning”, perhaps before the despising of youth and cruelty to the old had become a threat to genuine peace.  Paul reconstructs the memory for Timothy.  “Do not neglect the gift that is in you, which was given to you through prophecy with the laying on of hands by the council of elders” (4:14).  The memory of what the people of God once were points to the reality of what the people of God will be.  Before it forgot its true calling, the community recognized the gift of God to individuals among them and acclaimed God’s gift by a show of support in the presence of all.  That which was given to one “through prophecy”, God’s Word breaking in to human experience, was affirmed by the many “with the laying on of hands by the council of elders. [Greek: presbytery].”  He who would deride those who called him, and those who would despise the one they called, are themselves called to remember who they really are in Christ.

-Joe

more from funerals

In my last post I chronicled the message of the preacher and some of the cultural dynamics at play in a funeral I attended recently.  Yet there are more insights I could share from such an experience.

1.  The event was actually a double-funeral.  The old man from the Bible School was buried alongside his twenty-something grandson. The deaths were said to be interrelated. The stress of hearing that his grandson had been stabbed to death by some of his gangster mates was too much for the old man.  Consequently, the other major dynamic at play in the preacher's message was the predicament of youth in modern South African culture.  This was not the first funeral we have attended for a young man who met a violent end; to my memory we have attended three other such funerals and have known of several other like incidents.  Youth violence among peers thus was the context for the preacher's admonition by way of the text not to look for Jesus "among one's relatives and friends".  "Friends may give you drugs," he said, referring to the known habit of the grandson to smoke dagga (marijuana) with his friends.

2.  The event also included a "tombstone unveiling" for a previously deceased member of the family.  Typically tombstone unveilings among the Xhosa are events separate from the burial of the dead, occurring perhaps a year or more later.  The tombstone unveiling on this day was quite literally an aside, performed in one corner of the large field where the funeral-goers were gathered for the burial, out of sight and earshot for many.  Still, I was able to get some explanation for the procedure.  The biblical justification for the tombstone unveiling was taken from Joshua 24:26-27, in which Joshua sets up a "large stone" as a witness against Israel should they forsake their pledge to "put away the gods that their ancestors served" and "serve the Lord" (24:14ff.).  Previously, I have seen church leaders base the practice on Genesis 35:20, in which Jacob "sets up a pillar" at the grave of his beloved Rachel, or 2 Samuel 18:18, in which Absalom sets up a pillar of remembrance prior to his own death because he had no son to do it for him.  What each of these texts has in common, it seems, is reference to a stone--and that in itself seemingly is enough to justify the practice of unveiling a stone for the dead in the name of being "biblical".

In my own cultural context for funerals, I don't ever recall the setting up of tombstones as something requiring special rationale; I suppose it is taken very much by the religious communities in which I grew up to be a stone of remembrance for the dead.  In the Xhosa context, however, it is clear that church leaders--if they have concerns that the event might be misconstrued by those attending--do feel pressure to explain the practice.  Thus, in this case, the attending bishop explained that "this is not a sin, we are not worshiping.  This is just a stone for remembrance."  He then proceeded by way of Joshua to locate the practice in the Bible, and also added the scriptural reference to Jesus Christ as the true "cornerstone."  I assume that the leader meant to guard against conceiving of the tombstone as a place where power could be conferred upon the dead person's living relatives, such as in the case of another pastor who once told the grandchildren at an unveiling for their grandfather that "now you have a place to come back to.  You can kneel here and be healed."  And so, while I still puzzle over how the stone of Israel's covenant with Yahweh is directly analogous to a stone of remembrance for a family's deceased, some rationale in the direction of memorial over magic is likely better than none.

3.  Xhosa funerals always include elaborate narratives from the person who most nearly attended or "nursed" the deceased in his or her last days or hours.  One of our students divulged to me that these narratives sometimes lend themselves to insinuating blame on others for the death of the person.  It has oft been noted that death in African traditional religion is not due to "natural causes"; there is a human agent of ill-will behind the death of a person.  Thus what in former times may have more commonly been ascribed to a witch (usually an old woman) plotting evil somewhere in the shadows (not that the days of fear of witchcraft have passed) has become in the present the fault of "some old woman who doesn't know how to drive" (my student's example), if the cause of death, for example, had been a car accident. The tendency to assign blame can easily drift into the call for vengeance (we found ourselves in the midst of such a situation at a funeral last year).  No such call was issued at this funeral, and the nearest blame for the death of the grandson was assigned to the grandson himself for not "listening to his parents"--a common complaint in the conflict between generations which deserves its own post.

Funerals are a treasure trove of cultural knowledge.  I am grateful to those African companions who enable me to reach some level of understanding.

-Joe

searching for Jesus

I had the privilege of hearing one of my students preach last Saturday at a funeral for another member of the Bible School.  I liked what he did with his chosen text, Luke 2:41-49.

The preacher fastened on two key lines in the story of the twelve-year-old Jesus' journey with his parents for the Passover in Jerusalem (2:41).  First, the preacher fixed on the fact that, when his parents departed Jerusalem after the festival not knowing that Jesus was not with them, "they started to look for him among their relatives and friends" (2:44).  Second, the preacher emphasized the "anxiety" of the parents when they could not find Jesus; "Look, your father and I have been searching for you in great anxiety", his mother says to Jesus after they have found him in the temple (2:48, 46).  The preacher's point was that, in his words, "Life is very painful outside of Jesus", and that the pain of life without Jesus cannot be quelled even among one's relatives and friends.  Rather, the deliverance from the anguish of life comes only in the persistent "search" for Jesus, just as his parents continued to look for him when he was not to be found in the company of their relatives and friends (2:44, 45).  It was only in that persistent search that they "found him" (2:46).

Jesus Among the Teachers, from the Jesus Mafa Collection

The implications of such a message were not lost on the preacher's Xhosa audience, which hung on his every word, many among them encouraging him on with whoops and hollers.  I suspect that the impact of the sermon, the preacher's gospel meeting the people's context, had a lot to do with the continuing tension between loyalty to one's blood family (the text's "relatives and friends") and allegiance to Jesus.  True believers often find themselves having to choose between participating in family rituals that invoke spirits other than or alongside Jesus or hold their ground in the name of an exclusive loyalty to Jesus.  Many Xhosa Christians have found the satisfaction of life with Jesus in a way that was unavailable to them in the traditions of their elders.  The overall persona of the preacher as he spoke about life "outside of Jesus" exhibited an intensity seemingly impossible for one in whom the struggle to honor Jesus above relatives is not real.

Other elements in the proceedings also attested the side-by-side existence of Christian and non-Christian approaches to the challenges of life among those gathered.  Hence, while Christianity and/or the culture of the church has in important senses clearly won the day in this society, one family member of the deceased who made an announcement near the close of the funeral had no compunction about saying that, with the spate of death that had befallen that family recently, he would recommend that they go consult a sangoma (traditional diviner) for a remedy.  This announcement came--and I don't think with any confrontation intended--even after the preacher's clear counsel that Jesus is the answer to life's questions.

Perhaps we can only say that, given the spiritual competitors still vying for our loyalty in this world, our search for Jesus goes on.  Where can he be found?

In details not particularly emphasized by the preacher, Luke's story of the boy Jesus leaves us not without direction.  Indeed, those who were searching for him found him "in the temple", in Jesus' own words, "in my Father's house", "sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions" (2:46, 49).  It is noted that Luke's writings (the gospel and the book of Acts) are perhaps more favorably disposed toward the temple than those of the other evangelists.  Indeed, his gospel ends with the disciples of the ascended Jesus in Jerusalem, "continually in the temple blessing God" (Lk 24:53).  Similarly, the Pentecost community (see previous post) "spent much time together in the temple" (Acts 2:46).  Nevertheless, Luke also records Jesus' pronouncement of judgment against the temple in response to the disciples' adoration of it, and is thereby consistent with the united witness of the New Testament that in Jesus the Messiah, "something greater than the temple is here" (Mt 12:6; Lk 21:5-6).  In the end, the New Testament, both gospel and epistle, relativized place of worship in light of a people which worships "in spirit and truth" (Jn 4:24).  The community of Christ, the church, is the temple, "the dwelling place for God" (Eph 2:20-22; 1 Pet 2:4-5).

It is in that context, therefore, that we might, like his parents, find Jesus "in the temple" (2:46).  Indeed, he is there, "sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions" (2:46).  He is with us, sitting among us and asking us questions, wherever "two or three are gathered in his name", around the story of which he is Lord (Mt 18:20).

-Joe  

the baptized life

Over the weekend I taught on the subject of ecclesiology, the theology of the church, at Bethany Bible School.

I studied and selected several texts for the lesson, one of which was Acts 2:41-47.

Acts 2:41-47 is framed by two statements which speak of people being "added" to the number of the apostles.  First, after Peter's Pentecost Day sermon, about "three thousand people were added" (2:41). Finally, after descriptions of the early life of the apostolic community, the text states that "the Lord added day by day to them those who were being saved" (2:47).  These parallel statements about "addition" also invite comparison between those who were being added.  In the first instance, those who were added were those who "welcomed [Peter's] word and were baptized" (2:41).  In the second place, those who were added were those who were "being saved."  The text begins with addition through baptism and ends with addition by salvation.  One wonders, therefore, how baptism and salvation are related.  

A possible explanation of the connection between baptism and salvation may be found in the description that falls between the bookends of verses 41 and 47.  Verses 42-46 are exclusively about what happened to those who were baptized, those who, like others after them, "were being saved."  After being added upon baptism, the text states that they "continued in the apostles' teaching, the breaking of bread and fellowship, and the prayers" (2:42).  These activities find an echo later in the description that they "broke bread from house to house", the centerpiece of a life of daily worship in the temple, "sharing food with glad and generous hearts, praising God, and having the goodwill of the people" (2:46-47).  Between these parallel descriptions are two other statements which each feature a couplet--the first "wonders and signs" (2:43) and the second "possessions and goods" (2:45).  The first statement says simply that "many wonders and signs were being done by the apostles" while the second specifically enumerates the activities of the early church: "they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need."  The structural parallelism in the text invites the reader to consider whether the "wonders and signs" of the apostles were not in fact the "possessions and goods" which they sold to meet human need.  Finally, in between all of these statements is the summary of the apostolic community: "All who believed were together and had all things in common" (2:44).  Everything else in the text is an illustration of this basic apostolic unity.

It is equally true, of course, that the central unity of the church in the text, around which everything else gathers, is itself the product of the distinct practices in the text which surround that center.  The unity of the church was forged by those who were baptized being devoted to "the apostles' teaching, the breaking of bread, fellowship, and the prayers."  Unity was forged by generosity and mutual aid, the fulfilling of human need.  Those who welcomed Peter's word about Jesus "continued" in that word, in word and deed.  It is that continuity with the message and ministry of Jesus that enabled those were baptized to become truly a church--a community devoted to one another under Christ in service to the world.  And it is those who continue in the baptized life to which the text points who are "being saved."

-Joe

looking again at "born again"

The well-known text of John 3 came up in the lectionary last week, and I had the chance to preach on it on Sunday.

Aside from verse 16, John 3 is conspicuous for its introduction of the "born again" theme in Christian thought. Certainly in South Africa, the "born again" label is in coinage.  Christians of the Pentecostal and Charismatic stripes self-identity as "born agains", and their insistence on being "born again" sometimes makes Christians of the "mainline" churches--Presbyterian, Anglican, Methodist, Catholic--distance themselves from the term.  Because we are in the position of having regular fellowship with both mainline and Charismatic Christians, we can neither completely deny the claims of one nor ignore the complaints of the other.

The text itself, John 3:1-10, is a dialogue between two "teachers".  The first teacher is Jesus, whom Nicodemus, his visitor "by night", calls a "teacher who has come from God" (3:2).  At the end of the text, Jesus refers to Nicodemus as a "teacher", albeit in a prodding manner--"Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things?" (3:10).

The "these things" that the two "teachers" are discussing and which Nicodemus has "not understood" is the meaning of "birth".  Jesus himself makes two statements about birth in response to Nicodemus.  "No one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above" and "No one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit" (3:3, 5).  A third statement is like the first, "Do not be astonished that I said to you, 'You must be born from above'" (3:7).

I do prefer the NRSV's rendering of the Greek word anothen, "from above" (3:3, 7), for, although the Greek may be rendered as either "from above" or "again", context suggests it is not Jesus who begins speaking about being "born again".  It is Nicodemus, in response to Jesus, who elaborates on the meaning of birth from his own understanding as "a person entering into his mother's womb a second time", that is, "again" (3:4).  And it is as a result of Nicodemus's misinterpretation of Jesus' words about being born anothen that Jesus must clarify that he is talking about being "born of water and Spirit" (3:5).  It is because Nicodemus wishes to talk about being born "a second time" or "again" that Jesus needs to talk about "water and Spirit" as a synonym for being born "from above."  And it is because of Nicodemus's preoccupation with the subject of being "born again" that he fails to grasp the meaning of being "born from above" and does not "understand these things" even though he is "a teacher of Israel."

For a "teacher of Israel", being born "from above" has everything to do with knowing the story of Israel, with "setting one's mind on things above" (Col 3:2).  The story of Israel which Nicodemus "the teacher of Israel" might have taught was a story of "water and Spirit" and of Israel's God thwarting human wisdom by the wisdom "from above."  If Nicodemus had known his story, he would have seen that the earth was created "through waters" by the "spirit of God" (Gen 1:3).  He would have remembered that Israel became Israel, a people saved from slavery to foreign powers, by God's mercy through the cloud and fire of his spirit through the waters of the Red Sea (Ex 14:19ff.; see also 1 Pet 2:10).  He would have seen that Israel's was a story of God's ways above human ways, of battles won by downsizing at the riverside (Jdg 7), of anointing through humility (1 Sam 16), of cleansing in waters beautiful not to human eyes but in which God's Spirit chose to dwell (2 Kgs 5).

A teacher of Israel knows that to be born "of water and spirit" is to be born "from above".  A teacher of Israel knows that being born of God means to abide in the wisdom of God's "higher ways" (Isa 55:8-9).  A teacher of Israel knows not to "be conformed to the pattern of this world" but to "be transformed by the renewing of the mind" (Rom 12:2).

What then can we say about the "born again" debate within contemporary Christianity?

If being born "from above" or "by water and Spirit" has priority over being "born again", and if being born "from above" is something like being born into the world-confounding wisdom of God, then Christians will neither,

1) demand of individuals certain prescribed experiences in the world of the spirit which in and of themselves, apart from the "fruit of the Spirit" (Gal 5:22), are evidences of God's presence within a person's life; nor

2) reject the category of spirit as antithetical to a reasonable faith.

Rather, those who are "born of God" (Jn 1:13) will look for an ethics of the Spirit as the sign of God's presence in the world.  Wherever lives conform to the story of Israel fulfilled in Jesus, the Christ, there on earth is the kingdom of God which has come "from above."

-Joe

a conceptualization of ministry

I conceived the image below from several conversations I've had recently about holistic ministry.  The first of these was the whole process of preparing for, teaching, and then responding to students on the topic of worship at Bethany Bible School earlier this month.  Second, the first rough sketch of this image came to me yesterday while discussing experiences of Charismatic churches with Joanna Epp, a young woman from North America who is completing one year with Mennonite Mission Network's Radical Journey program.  Third, the chart reflects conversations I've had with biblical texts, most notably Matthew 4:23-25, going back as far as two years ago.

The Matthew text offers us a threefold description of Jesus' ministry--"teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the good news of the kingdom, and healing every disease among the people" (4:23).  I have suggested that the second of this trio--"proclaiming the good news of the kingdom"--is the overarching concept for the other two.  In other words, "teaching" and "healing" are two primary expressions of communicating or "proclaiming" the kingdom of God.

This understanding of Matthew 4:23 fits well with Paul's twofold description of ministry in Colossians 3:12-17.  In that passage, Paul seems to divide our Christian labor into two halves--that which is done by "word" and that which is done by "work" or "deed" (see my previous post).  It is not hard to see how these--"word and work"--correspond respectively to the "teaching and healing" of Matthew 4:23.  If that is so, then what is the equivalent to Matthew's "proclaiming the kingdom" in Colossians 3?  I suggest below that it is the church's imperative to "clothe" itself with the Christ-like virtues which may be summed up as love.  When we see this, we are very near to what Paul said elsewhere--that "the kingdom of God is justice and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit", or that "the Spirit" is "love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control" (Rom 14:17; Gal 5:22-23; compare also with Col 3:12).

Finally, the two parts of Christian work which together comprise a complete witness to "the kingdom of our Lord and of his Christ" (Rev 11:15) may be found in Acts 6:1-6.  Because the apostles, consumed with teaching the "word of God", needed help in fulfilling the ministry of Christ, the church selected seven "deacons" to oversee the "daily distribution of food" to those in need.

The various descriptions of ministry from these three texts should be visible in the chart below.

The chart is not exhaustive.  It does not include every activity of ministry "in the name of the Lord Jesus" but paints broad contours which are intended to guide the ministry which God has entrusted to the church.  I notice, for example, that prayer is missing from the chart, though prayer should infuse every act of ministry.  The chart might be used to evaluate the ministry of your particular congregation.  Does your church exhibit a healthy balance between ministries of word and ministries of work?  If so, it is likely that Christ is present in the Spirit and the kingdom of God is visible in your witness.

-Joe

our twofold worship

Last Friday I taught on the topic of worship at Bethany Bible School, taking as my primary text Colossians 3:12-17.

I needed some fresh insight on worship, and so I selected one text to see what it might suggest about worship.  I did not want to start with my own thoughts on the subject and then find texts to support my pre-existing ideas.  Rather, I wanted a theology of worship to rise from the text.

Of course, even my selection of a starting point showed a pre-existing bias.  I chose a text which I guessed had something to do with worship.  The reason I chose Colossians, then, is its line about "singing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs with gratitude in your hearts to God" (3:16).  In other words, I chose the text for its mention of a common feature of the worship service, namely singing.  But by paying closer attention to the broader context for such singing, I was to discover a much larger context for worship than as defined as what most congregations do on Sundays mornings.

Near the heart of the text lie two parallel statements which use the name of "Christ" (at least this is the case in the NRSV).  These are:

"Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts" (3:15).

"Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly" (3:16).

These frame a very simple sentence, "And be thankful" (3:15).

If we add the three statements together, we find something virtually equivalent to the summary statement with which Paul ends this text.  As the first statement speaks of the "peace of Christ", the second "the word of Christ", and the middle statement thankfulness, so 3:17 declares,

"And whatever you do, in word or work ("deed" NRSV), do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him."

If we begin to group like with like, we see that the closing sentence has in common with the cumulative central triplet a focus on "the word".  As there is the "word of Christ" (3:15), so there is "the word" (3:17) which is one of two things which the church in Colossae might "do".  Continuing with exact matches, both the conclusion and the triplet speak of "thanksgiving", whether it is the imperative "be thankful" (3:15) or "giving thanks to God the Father through [the Lord Jesus]" (3:17).

Moving beyond exact matches to like ideas, we see, by implication, that if the "word of Christ" (3:16) finds an exact match with "the word" which the Colossians might "do" (3:17), then that which is parallel to each of these two must also go together.  Thus, if "the peace of Christ" (3:15) is parallel to "the word of Christ" (3:16), and if "the word of Christ" finds its exact match in the "word" which is done (3:17), then "the peace of Christ" must refer to that which accompanies the "word" in 3:17--the "work" which the Colossians might do "in the name of the Lord Jesus".

Thus, if it is fair to say that this text has something to do with worship (a word, admittedly, which does not appear in the text), then Paul is saying that true worship is essentially thanksgiving to God in the name of the Lord Jesus, and that that worship has two basic parts: "word" and "work".

Seen in this way, Colossians 3:12-17 itself may be divided into two halves, the first pertaining to worship as "work" and the second pertaining to worship as "word", before culminating in the one-sentence conclusion which ties these themes together.  Indeed, the first half, ending with "the peace of Christ" in 3:15, pertains to "works" which can be done even without words.  "Clothe yourselves", the text begins, with "compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience" (3:12), over which "love" is put on as a garment which "completes" the outfit (the Greek of 3:14 calls love "a bond of completion").  Between these virtues of "work" is "forgiveness", literally, "generosity of spirit", which has the same root in Greek, charis, which is elsewhere translated as "thanksgiving" ("thankful", "gratitude", etc) and appears no less than five times in the text.  All of these find their natural conclusion in "the peace of Christ" which is to "rule in [the Colossians'] hearts", in the "one body" called the church "to which [they] were called" (3:15).  "The peace of Christ", closing out the first half of 3:12-17 (3:12-15), is the final state of a community which practices these works of love toward one another.

Of course, it is not as if any of these "works" must be done without "words", as if "words" somehow did not enhance the expression of, for example, the practice of forgiveness.  In all likelihood, quite the contrary is true.  It is just to say that, according to the text, there is in life a distinction between worship (or ministry or service) as "work" and worship as "word".

The text itself reflects this distinction, for, separated only by the command to "be thankful" (3:15), it moves from speaking of ministries of "work" to ministries of "word".  It moves from one summary statement--"let the peace of Christ rule"--to its introductory counterpart--"let the word of Christ dwell".  The switch to "the word of Christ" ensues in an unbroken litany of activities which are done principally with one's voice.  The text begins to speak of "teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom" and "singing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs to God" (3:16).  Teaching, admonishing, singing--these are things done with "the word".

And then it is there--after all is said and done--that Paul says, "whatever you do, in word or work, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him" (3:17).

In contemporary discussions of "holistic" ministry, mission, or service, distinctions are sometimes maligned.  Concerns that distinctions lend themselves to undue prioritizing of work over word or word over work call into question whether we should think in so-called "dualisms" at all.  Yet having distinctions, giving names to things we experience to be true of life, can help us to identify those particular gifts which God has entrusted to us and others for the work of ministry "in the name of the Lord Jesus".  Distinctions can set our sights and focus our energies on that which God has called us to do, "whether by word or work".

-Joe

the heart of Revelation

In my last post I argued that Revelation 12 lies at the very center of the book, and that that central location commends it also as the crux of Revelation’s message.  Furthermore, it was the recurrence of “three sevens” in the middle section of Revelation and another “three”—three “woes”—which pinpointed chapter 12 as the locus of meaning which draws together the threads of Revelation.

Immediately after the announcement that “the second woe has passed” and “the third woe is coming very soon” (11:14), John hears “loud voices in heaven, saying,”

“The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord , and of his Messiah, and he will reign forever and ever” (11:15).

A parallel announcement comes a few verses later, in 12:10:

“Then I heard a loud voice in heaven, proclaiming,
Now have come the salvation and the power and the kingdom of our God and the authority of his Messiah.”

The second announcement, quite obviously, is of one piece with the first, for both speak of the arrival of God’s reign which is likewise the rule of the Messiah.  As one, therefore, the two statements act as a frame around yet more material.  In this case, that material is the appearance to John of two “great signs (“portents” NRSV) in heaven” and the interaction of these signs.

The first sign is “a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of twelve stars” (12:1).  Moreover, the woman was “pregnant and was crying out in birth pangs, in the agony of giving birth” (12:2).

Immediately following is the second sign.  John sees “a great red dragon, with seven heads and ten horns, and seven diadems on his heads” (12:3).  Like the woman, stars also figure in John’s vision of the dragon, though in this case they are not part of a crown but those which the dragon sweeps down to earth with his tail (12:4).  Though the dragon “swept down a third of the stars of heaven and threw them to earth”, the “twelve stars” in the crown of the woman were not among these.

Now comes the interaction of the two, the woman and the dragon. 
“The dragon stood before the woman who was about to bear a child, so that he might devour her child as soon as it was born” (12:4).
The interaction of the dragon and the woman is one of enmity.  The dragon crouches before the woman with his sights set on her offspring.  As for her offspring, the woman “gave birth to a son, a male child, who is to shepherd all the nations with a rod of iron” (12:5).

Now that the child has been born, and is to rule the nations, one wonders how—for the presence of a large, red, seven-headed dragon hell-bent on the child’s destruction does not hold out much hope for a helpless baby’s survival.  At that very moment, however, from the very claws of death, “her child was snatched away and taken to God and to his throne” (12:5).  As for the woman, she also met with God’s provision: “And the woman fled into the wilderness, where she has a place prepared by God, so that there she can be nourished for one thousand two hundred sixty days” (12:6).

The woman’s having “a place prepared by God” is in direct contrast to the predicament of the dragon, described in the next scene.  For with the outbreak of “war in heaven” between “Michael and his angels” and “the dragon and his angels”, the “great dragon and his angels” are found “no longer'” to have “any place in heaven” (12:8).  Having “no place” in heaven by heaven’s decree, they are “cast down to earth” (12:9).

The expulsion of the dragon and his cohort from heaven to earth is cause for the earth’s lament—for the third “woe” of Revelation’s large middle section.  “But woe to the earth and the sea,” cries the “loud voice in heaven”, “for the devil has come down to you with great wrath, because he knows that his time is short!” (12:12b).

Even though he has come down to earth with “great wrath”, however, the devil with “no place” is not allowed to harm the woman who “has a place prepared by God.”  For now that the dragon was found powerless against her male child, he fixes his evil intent upon the woman—but to no avail.  First, she “was given the two wings of the great eagle, so that she could fly from the serpent into the wilderness, to her place where she is nourished for a time, and times, and half a time” (12:14).  When the dragon tried again, casting a flood of water from his mouth to drown the woman, “the earth came to the help of the woman; it opened its mouth and swallowed the river that the dragon had poured from his mouth” (12:16).  Powerless, in succession, against the woman’s child and the woman herself, the dragon, “angry with the woman”, “went off to make war on the rest of her children, those who keep the commandments of God and hold the testimony of Jesus” (12:17).

The woman’s “other children”, as Revelation calls them, bear a remarkable similarity to the “comrades" (Greek: “brothers”) acclaimed a few verses earlier by the great voice in heaven.  For just as the brothers “conquered [the dragon/serpent/devil/Satan/deceiver of the whole world] by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony,” so the woman’s “other children” “keep the commandments of God and hold the testimony of Jesus” (12:11, 17).  Moreover, if the brothers “have conquered”, if their victory is already complete, then the woman’s other children will also conquer.  As the dragon did not prevail against the comrades, so he will not conquer the children.

Why will the dragon not prevail against the woman’s children?  It is for the same reason that he did not prevail against the woman and the son born to her.  For the male child, taken to the very throne, into the very power of God, as “the Lamb that was slaughtered” has “ransomed for God from every tribe and language and people and nation . . . a kingdom and priests serving our God, and they will reign on earth” (Rev 5:9-10).  The first “kingdom and priests serving God” on earth, was, of course, those whom God ransomed from slavery in Egypt—Israel his prized possession (Ex 19:5-6).  This is the woman, she who wears the twelve-starred crown for the twelve sons of Jacob.  This is she through whom came her deliverer, the Messiah who shepherds his people from every nation with a rod of iron against the adversary.  This is she who has other children, those who, by virtue of their faith in her God and of his Messiah, have become God’s people.  These children are the church, they who, like the faithful before them, “conquered by the word of their testimony” (12:11 compared with 12:17).

It is this church, a Jewish-Gentile body of Christ-followers in first-century Asia Minor, with which John shared his revelation of Jesus.  This was the church which the dragon was persecuting, against which the dragon waged his war.  That war undoubtedly shook their confidence, for otherwise it would not have been necessary for John to remind them that their Lamb “has conquered.”  Nor would it have been necessary to urge them on, as John does, in the way of “the Lamb who was slain.”  For indeed, it was not just the “word of their testimony” or “the testimony of Jesus”, or “the blood of the Lamb” or “keeping the commandments of God” which unites the children and the comrades.  These actions of the whole people of God—“conquering by the blood of the Lamb”, “conquering by the word of their testimony”, “keeping the commandments of God”, and “holding to the testimony of Jesus”—are but four ways of saying what the voice in heaven proclaimed in one further description applied to the activity of the comrades.

“For they did not cling to life even in the face of death” (12:11b).

It is this elaboration of conquering by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony which is missing from the parallel statement applied to the woman’s other children a few verses later (12:11, 17).  It was this—not clinging to life in the face of death—which was yet to be completed by the persecuted church to whom John wrote.  Unlike their comrades, the children had not all yet “resisted to the point of shedding their blood” (Heb 12:4).   Yet this was the ultimate test of obedience to God, and that which was needed to conquer as Jesus had conquered.  Only the church which is willing “to lose its life in order to save it” is the faithful church (Mk 8:35).  Only the church which takes up the cross, not as Rome to crucify its enemies, but as Jesus to love its enemies—even unto death—is the faithful church (Mk 8:34).

This, I submit, is the call buried deep within the heart of Revelation for God’s people.  It is a call which entails suffering amidst the woes and suffering of our world, but it leads on to “the crown of life” (see Rev 2:10).

-Joe

sevens and threes

In my last post, I spoke of three characteristics of biblical apocalyptic literature with regard to the book of Daniel: dreams and visions; prophetic words (interpretation of dreams and visions); and exhortations for right living.  The three categories are also present in Daniel's New Testament counterpart, the Revelation to John.

Just as the purpose of Nebuchadnezzar's dream (Dan 4) was to change the king's way of life, so Revelation's dreams and visions point toward specific acts of human faithfulness to God.  Dreams lead to exhortations for right living.  In fact, the very heart of Revelation, embedded in one of John's dramatic descriptions, is one such call to action.  Before we can repeat that call, however, it is necessary to locate the heart of the book of Revelation.

Revelation, like other works of biblical literature, is built upon certain textual features which point to a central message.  In biblical literature, meaning goes hand-in-hand with structure.  That which is textually central is central in terms of message.  John's primary purpose for conveying his dreams to others may be found at the literal center of the text of Revelation.  In Revelation, that center may be found amidst Revelation's repetitions of the number 7.

Revelation features a long middle section (6:1-16:21), so marked because it encompasses three completed series of "sevens".  The first "seven" begins in chapter 6, when "the Lamb that was slaughtered", first seen in chapter 5, begins to open the seven seals of the scroll which he was worthy to take from the hand of the one seated upon the throne.  This is followed by a second series of "sevens"--seven angels blowing seven trumpets (8:2-11:19). Finally, seven plagues, or "bowls of God's wrath", are poured out upon the earth (15:1-16:21).  This is the third "seven".

Of course, it should be noted that seven is a prime number in the Bible, ubiquitous and rich in meaning.  God created the heavens and the earth in seven days.  After seven sevens or forty-nine years, Israel enjoyed a Jubilee year--rest for the land, return of property to previous owners, release of slaves (Lev 25).  If the seventh day of creation meant rest for God, so too the fullness of time after seven sevens for God's creation.  Seven was synonymous with rest and freedom after the labor.  At the Bible School last weekend, students pointed out other sevens.

• Joseph's dreams, seven fat and skinny cows (fourteen in all) meaning seven years of plenty succeeded by seven years of scarcity, and seven ears of healthy and sickly grain, meaning the same (Gen 41).
• Naaman's washings in the River Jordan, cleansing him of his leprosy (2 Kgs 5).
• seven words of Jesus from the cross (which is, of course, a compilation from the four gospels).  A service of the seven words is a tradition on Good Friday for many churches here.

As seven relates to the book of Daniel, we also pointed out two sevens from the stories we told.  The fiery furnace into which were cast Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego as the price of their obedience to God, was heated "seven times" beyond normal.  Yet beyond the sevenfold wrath of Nebuchadnezzar's oven, the three friends of Daniel came out unscathed (Dan 3).  For failing to heed the prophecy of Daniel, Nebuchadnezzar was driven from human society until "seven times" should "pass over" him, after which he would learn of the sovereignty of God.  Nebuchadnezzar's return to power, his exaltation as it were, did not come without a sevenfold humiliation (Dan 4).

All these sevens add up, not to some mathematical sum, but to a theological truth.  In the fullness of time, after what will be has been, upon completion, after seven "days", creation is new.  

But in the midst of those sevens, there is labor.  In the heart of the sevens there is pain.  In the belly of the sevens there is tumult.  And so it is with Revelation.

Each of the three sevens in the heart of Revelation tells of suffering.  If by some chance the reader could miss that suffering, the text underscores it with another sequence in the exact center of the three sevens.   Amidst the middle seven, the seven trumpets, are "three woes" (8:13-9:12; 9:13-10:14; 12:12).  They begin right where one might expect them to begin, after the fourth trumpet is blown, in the middle or second sequence of the three sevens (8:12-13).  Within the three sevens, thus, is another three.  Amidst the three sevens of suffering are three woes.  And amidst the three woes, as one might expect--"let anyone with an ear to hear listen" (see the refrain of Rev 2-3)--is the central call of Revelation, the Word of God for his people.

That call may be found in Revelation 12, and that will be the subject of my next post.

-Joe  

dreams, words, life

I taught on the apocalyptic literature of the Bible, the books of Daniel and Revelation, at Bethany Bible School last Saturday.

I enjoyed both my study of these texts in the weeks leading up to last weekend and the actual presentation and interaction with students around these books.  For the sake of clarity and simplicity, I chose three main features of biblical apocalyptic literature (based on  my own reading and re-reading of Daniel and Revelation).

1. Dreams and Visions
2. Prophetic Words
3. Exhortations for Right Living

The three are inter-related.  Dreams and visions are the means by which God, sometimes through angels, communicates to human beings (e.g., Daniel, Nebuchadnezzar, Belshazzar, John of Patmos).  Yet, because those dreams or visions usually are cryptic, those who receive them seek understanding through prophets.  The prophets give words to the visions, that is, they provide interpretation.  Finally, however, neither the dreams nor their interpretations are ends in themselves but calls to right living for the ones to whom they have been given.  Thus, the prophet’s job is not only to interpret but to exhort, to urge on toward faithfulness.

One example may be drawn from Daniel 4.  King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon has a dream of a large tree with its top in the heavens (one is reminded of the tower of Babel in Genesis 11).  The tree is beautiful, its reach vast, its fruit abundant, its shade and its branches a shelter for many.  This is the vision.
 
On the other hand, in spite of its beauty, its appearance is terrifying for the king, for he also hears a “holy watcher” command that the tree should be “cut down” (Dan 4:13ff).  Nebuchadnezzar, as with his dream of a great statue in chapter 2, does not have words for his fear.  And it is precisely those words which might bring relief.  So Nebuchadnezzar calls upon Daniel for interpretation.  Daniel tells him that the tree is not really a tree, but the king himself, his greatness and his sovereignty (4:22).  As for the tree being cut down, Daniel tells Nebuchadnezzar that his kingdom will be taken from him “until [he has] learned that the Most High has sovereignty over the kingdom of mortals, and gives it to whom he will” (4:25).  This is the interpretation, the prophetic words which explain the dream.

Finally, although Nebuchadnezzar’s fate is sealed—he will be driven from human society (4:25)—it is so only in the absence of Nebuchadnezzar’s own repentance.  The decree of heaven for Nebuchadnezzar is fixed as Nebuchadnezzar is—not as Nebuchadnezzar might be.  And because even now there is hope for Nebuchadnezzar, or at least to leave him without excuse, Daniel gives the word of exhortation.

“Atone for your sins with righteousness, and your iniquities with mercy to the oppressed, so that your prosperity may be prolonged” (4:27).

This is the call to right living.  Of course, the king did not heed it, and had to find out the hard way that God is God over even Nebuchadnezzar’s realm (4:28ff.).

These categories may also be applied to the New Testament’s apocalyptic offering, Revelation, which will be the subject of my next post.

-Joe

the seed of humility

Last Saturday I had the privilege of facilitating a discussion on church leadership for four Pentecostal pastors near the town of Cradock.  Our primary text was the parable of the sower and the seed (Mark 4:3-9).  In my own preparation for the session, I noted especially the description of the seed.  The seed, which Jesus later tells the disciples is the word, "falls" to four environments.  Three of those environments are not conducive to "bearing fruit" (4:7,8); the seed is eaten by birds in one; scorched by the sun in another; choked by thorns in a third.  Only in a fourth does it find "good soil" in which it yields "thirty, sixty, a hundredfold" (4:8).  Yet whether to the good or to the bad, the seed "fell".  I suggested that the "falling" of the word described the life of Jesus himself, the Word of God which came down from heaven to dwell among mortals.  Such a falling was a "humbling", an obedience to the love of God even to death on the cross (Php 2:8).  As the seed was eaten, burned, and choked, so the Son was crucified.  And just as Jesus humbled himself, so leaders in the church are called to humble themselves whether the environment is "favorable or unfavorable" (2 Tim 4:2).

In response, one pastor shared a story from his work in the correctional services of South Africa (most pastors we know are bi-vocational).  He said that he was talking to an inmate who said that you "can't be soft or people are just going to walk right over you."  The pastor then shared with us that, while he was contemplating this inmate's advice, "I remembered what it says in the Bible, that 'he was led like a sheep to the slaughter', that he did not even 'open his mouth'" (see Isa 53:7; Acts 8:32).  The pastor believes that this is the way for leaders in the way of Jesus.

It is important to acknowledge the predicament of people suffering injustice and those whose vulnerability is exposed in a place like prison.  It is important to remember that calls to bear abuse without a word can sound like an affirmation of injustice in the ears of those who bear the brunt of that injustice.  It is also important to remember, however, that if leaders did abide by the humility of Jesus, our world would not suffer the injustice it now does.  In spite of its circumstances, the world needs disciples who will take up the cross after Jesus, whose lives will point the world back to the self-giving love for which it was created.

-Joe

occupational hazards

In the category of texts which my African friends are more likely to know than I know, I submit 2 Kings 7.

On Sunday over lunch, one man in the church applied this text to a humorous situation on the church grounds that day.  One particularly zealous young man took it upon himself to act as a security guard at the gate, not allowing anyone who hadn’t eaten to exit the property (He had heard someone remark that no one should leave without eating).  Another young man who had been eating near me, upon finishing, had gotten up to leave.  Within a minute or two he had returned, informing the pastor that the gatekeeper would not allow him through.  Apparently the security guard did not believe that the other young man had actually had his meal.

Chuckling upon hearing the news, another man arose to take care of the situation.  He returned with a report of what he had said to convince the guard to let the man pass.  He told him the story of 2 Kings 7.  When the pastor narrated the story to me, I could never recall having heard it before.  Yet immediately it had come to this man, so apparently versed in the books of 1 and 2 Kings is he (I have noticed a preoccupation with these books before among African Pentecostals).

So what is the story?  A certain captain of the Israelite king had expressed doubt during a time of siege and ensuing famine that food could be sold in the city of Samaria on the next day as predicted by the prophet Elisha.  In response, Elisha told the captain that the captain would “see it with [his] own eyes, but [he] shall not eat from it” (2 Kgs 7:2).  After the Lord caused the besieging Aramean army to quickly abandon the city, the people of Samaria went out to plunder the Aramean camp, bringing back with them the provisions the Arameans had left behind.  And so, on the next day, according to the word of Elisha, food was again sold in the city.  And, also according to the prophet’s word, the captain saw but did not eat the food.  For as he was the one whom the king had appointed to “have charge of the gate”, he was trampled by the people as they flooded into the city with the plunder—and died there “in the gate” (2 Kgs 7:17).

Just as the stubbornness (refusal to heed the prophet) of this “security guard” had led to his demise, so his counterpart in the form of a resolute young churchgoer was being warned to let the people pass.  I am happy to report that no similar fate befell him.

-Joe

warriors and women

In giving a word of encouragement before handing over to me to preach last Sunday, the pastor made a correlation between four women in the congregation and two other sets of people in the Bible.  The day before, I had preached on Mark 15, so that chapter was on the pastor’s mind.  In particular, his attention was fixed on verse 40 which tells of three women “looking on” at the death of Jesus.  These were Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James the younger and of Joses, and Salome.  This was the first set of biblical people to whom the pastor compared the four mothers in his church.  To these he added “the Three” warriors of David’s army—Josheb-basshebeth a Tahchemonite, Eleazar son of Dodo son of Ahohi, and Shammah son of Agee, the Hararite—whom David extolls in his “last words” from 2 Samuel 23 (2 Sam 23:8ff.).

The pastor’s point was that, just as Jesus had been attended by three women, and David by three warriors, so these four churchwomen in particular had steadfastly stood beside him in the ministry.  Comparing members of the body of Christ to warriors always raises my Mennonite (pacifist) eyebrows.  Yet the fact that these mothers could in no way be mistaken for soldiers of the flesh in the mode of David’s fighting men hinted at a beautiful transformation of the warrior-motif in the pastor’s interpretation.  What the pastor has in mind as the epitome of warrior-hood is not, in fact, those who fight—as did David’s men—with physical weapons, but those praying mothers who prepared a great feast for God’s people on Easter Sunday.  By using the biblical examples to point to the flesh-and-blood women in his church, the pastor cast the text in a new light.  For if these women count for genuine warriors in the pastor’s eyes, is another meaning of warrior-hood likewise intended beneath the surface of the text?  Must a text like 2 Samuel 23:8 be read to affirm acts of physical war, or does it rather commend that which both soldiers and “ordinary” women may have in common, namely, the dedication in giving one’s life to something greater than oneself?  Put another way, is what the text might commend not the cause for which one fights, but the manner in which one fights?  Indeed, I would argue that it is not the cause which unites soldiers and members of the church, for intrinsic to the calling of the former is protecting a geographic domain while the latter serves the kingdom of God (insofar as the latter does not conflate the two).  Rather, it is only to certain virtues which both soldiers and Christians might subscribe, and it is the calling of the Christian to know in whose service alone and how such virtues may be exercised.

The pastor’s way of reading scripture exhibited here I have encountered more broadly in these years of my African sojourn.  Indeed, I have often heard African preachers draw lessons for life from texts which do not seem to have an overlap in the literal sense to the real-life situations which the texts are used to address.  Thus one might find an African preacher using a battle text as a metaphor for perseverance or trusting in God when encouraging a person struggling with an illness.  By contrast, a western preacher might seek out a more literal correspondence between the text and life, so that when addressing a situation of disease one looks to texts of physical healing in the scriptures.  If it is thus fair to say that, in this sense, an African way of reading scripture is more metaphorical than a western one (undoubtedly it could also be more literal in other ways), then I as a North American have learned a lot from African ways of reading.  And if other western readers are like me, then this African approach can help us to hear more of the Bible speaking to our lives.  The pastor’s example above, for example, helps us to see the way in which Old Testament texts have meaning beyond justifying war and promoting a wrathful God—complaints I have frequently heard among North American Mennonites (and others).

I am persuaded that a closer examination of most biblical texts uncovers, in surprising ways, the voice of God speaking to the people whom God loves.

-Joe

breaking from the tomb

In between Mark’s crucifixion narrative (15:25-39, see last post) and his resurrection narrative (16:1-8) is the burial of Jesus.  Chapter 15 ends with the notice that “Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Joses saw where the body was laid” (15:47).  This is the perfect set-up for the events of chapter 16.
Seeing where the body was laid, these two women along with a third, Salome, “brought spices so that they might go and anoint him” (16:1).  Spices in hand, they head for the tomb.  The resurrection narrative in Mark centers around the tomb.  The women set out to go there (v. 2).  Later they enter there (v. 5).  Finally, they flee from the tomb (v. 8).  The tomb receives one extra mention, this time in the mouths of the women themselves rather than from the narrator.  As they approach they ask themselves, “Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb” (v. 3).  Presumably this question was occasioned because the stone was “very large” (v. 4).  Nevertheless, looking up, they find that the stone “had already been rolled back” (v. 4).  And so they are able to enter the tomb.

It is in the tomb that the central drama of the story takes place.  It is in the tomb that the women see the messenger of Jesus’ resurrection (v. 5), hear the announcement of Jesus’ resurrection (v. 6), and receive instructions of what to do next (v. 7).  All of this happens in the tomb.

But none of this were the women seeking in the tomb.  Though we must credit them—perhaps especially in comparison to the twelve disciples of Jesus—for looking on at the cross (15:40), we cannot say that their faith was complete.  The women, like the disciples, had not taken Jesus at his word.  Presumably they too, with the twelve, had heard him predict his death and resurrection.  Witnesses to Jesus’ authority in life, the women might have trusted, even now, that what Jesus said would be fulfilled in him would come to pass.  Yet they set out with spices “to anoint him”; they are not seeking a risen Lord or a living God in this moment.  They are seeking a corpse.  It is a dead man which they seek.  That is the most for which they can hope.  A body is what they have come seeking in this place.  For a dead man they have entered here.

It is precisely in that place, however, in the tomb of their hope which was not a hope, that they hear something which they did not expect.
 
“Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified.  He has been raised; he is not here.  Look, there is the place they laid him” (v. 6).

If the women’s best hope was hopelessness, their best faith an instinctual sense of duty, their present state a dulling numb, then it was not by their merit that they received the news spoken by the young man robed in white (v. 5).  By the mercy of God they hear, “He has been raised.”  They were hoping for a corpse; they received a revelation of the living God.

It is well-known that Mark, aside from the disputed endings to his gospel (16:9-20), narrates no resurrection appearances of Jesus to his followers.  Likewise it is customary in certain circles, perhaps for shock value, for preachers to point out that the women in Mark flee from the news in terror, saying nothing to anyone (v. 8).  Full stop.  End of story.  I’m not sure what all that emphasis is for; given the subsequent widespread belief in the resurrection, good logic suggests that he both appeared to the women (as the other gospels attest) and that they did overcome their fear and tell his disciples, from which the witness spread.  Yet if Mark’s focus on the women’s fear, not unrelated to the way in which Mark characterizes disciples generally in his gospel as dull and often disobedient, awakens our senses to the reality of God’s love and grace breaking through, then his ending is well-played indeed.

-Joe

the creative cross

I preached twice last weekend, once on Saturday and on Easter Sunday.  This year, deciding to stick with the gospel in the lectionary, I chose the passion-resurrection narrative from Mark.  In this post, I’ll share some things I learned from the crucifixion of Jesus in Mark 15:25-39.  In the next post, I’ll share about the resurrection narrative, Mark 16:1-8.

Mark 15:25-39 encompasses the time that Jesus actually spent on the cross.  The text begins with a reference to time: “It was nine o’clock in the morning when they crucified him” (v. 25).  It follows through with references to time, tracking Jesus’ last hours in this way.  So we read that at “noon, darkness came over the whole land” (v. 33).  Moreover, this darkness lasted “until three in the afternoon” (v. 33).  Finally, three o’clock gets another mention: “At three o’clock Jesus cried out . . .” (v. 34).  There may be multiple reasons for tracking the death of Jesus in terms of time, but one possibility hit me for the first time in my years of hearing and reading this story.  If Jesus’ dying on the cross was from 9 am to 3 pm, then Jesus hung there for six hours.  This invites a comparison with other biblical “sixes”, most notably, the number of “days” God took to create “the heavens and the earth” (Gen 1:1; 2:1).  Along these lines we might also remember how Mark has chosen to frame his entire gospel, that is, with explicit reference to the story of Jesus being like the story of creation.

“This is the beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God” (Mk 1:1).

In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth . . .” (Gen 1:1).

Consequently, it is not impossible that Mark is making the claim that Jesus’ death is something of a labor, a work, of creation again, or new creation.  Just as for six days God, through God’s brooding spirit and enlightening Word (Gen 1:2,3), ordered a world, so Jesus, through his breath and with his voice (see 15:34, 38) gave that world a new beginning.

How does Jesus’ breath, that is, his spirit, and his voice, that is, his word, constitute for us a new beginning?

This question leads us to the heart of the text.  For 15:25-39 revolves around the speech of Jesus, and specifically the speech of Jesus in contrast to the other speeches uttered at the cross.  Indeed, whereas those who look on while Jesus is crucified speak, derisively, about Jesus, Jesus directs himself only to the Eternal Spirit.  The only words upon his lips pertain to God, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me” (15:34).  Of course, in saying so, Jesus was also speaking God’s Word (Psalm 22).  This sets Jesus apart from the other human characters in the story.  They spend these six hours harassing a dying person, ridiculing his claims to kingship (15:32) and priesthood, one with authority over the temple (15:29).  Their words also assume the failure of his status as prophet, since his hanging on the cross in the face of the temple’s persistence negates the truth of his words.  In fact, however, the age of the temple is quickly passing—and much sooner than anyone at the cross could have feared.  With Jesus’ last breath and loud cry, “the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom” (15:38).  Thus for the followers of Jesus thereafter, the curtain that marked entrance into the very presence of God (“the holy of holies”) would truly be “his flesh”, his body, that which was crucified (see Heb 10:19-20).  He himself, and no place in particular, would be the means by which, through whom, we worship and live.  All of this he effected because of his faithfulness to his loving Father—because of the steadfastness of his word even to his dying breath.  “When he was abused he did not return abuse; when he suffered, he did not threaten; but he entrusted himself to the one who judges justly” (1 Pet 2:23).  He might have entrusted himself to someone else or to some other means.  Indeed, the mockers also believe, in spite of his confession to God, that Jesus is calling Elijah for help (15:35).  But as it stands, Jesus, with no derision toward his fellows, commits his life, his death, into the hands of God.

In this way, Jesus is our model in suffering for others even as his unstinting perseverance in love reveals that something much more than a human was inhabiting his flesh.  God was in Christ reconciling us to himself, not counting our trespasses against us (2 Cor 5:19).  And that is why those six hours on the cross were for us the work that made creation new.

-Joe   

praying forgiveness

Within the span of a week I've had two opportunities to share some insights on the Lord's Prayer (Mt 6:9-13). Here's what I've found:

The prayer defines its addressee in the first line, "Our Father, the one who is in the heavens".  While it may seem obvious to some Christians that we would address God in prayer, the fact that Jesus specifies only God as the recipient of our prayers cuts against the grain of some traditions in which other spiritual authorities are also invoked.  Within the Lord's Prayer there is no mention of the saints or ancestors of human religion/culture.

The prayer features seven verbs.  The first three verbs are pleas for the Father to do something for the Father's own sake.  These accompany nouns with possessive pronouns in the second person singular.  I call this "a pattern of possession or belonging to the second person" who is, in this case, God.    The three verb-noun combinations then are:

May it be kept holy/sanctified--your name
May it come--your kingdom
May it be done--your will

All are pleas pertaining to God.  Disciples pray, as Jesus taught us, for God to guard/protect/keep God's own prerogatives as the creator of the world.  While human beings can participate in the glorifying of God's name, the coming of God's kingdom, and the doing of God's will, all are ultimately the work of the Father himself.  Only the Father can protect his name, kingdom, and will from the humans who inevitably fail to honor God.  Our shortcomings simply expose the need to pray to the Creator, and reveal why we should begin in prayer with pleas that pertain to God for God's sake.  It is upon God's heavenly name, kingdom, and will that the same might be established on earth, and so we address the only One who can bring about these realities.  We plea to God not to give up on the establishment of God's name, kingdom, and will upon the earth in the face of our sin.

After we have put first things first, the things upon which everything else is founded, then we begin to pray to God about the things that belong uniquely to us as frail human beings.  Here come the next four verb-noun combinations.

Give us today--our daily bread
Forgive us--our debts
Do not bring--us into temptation
Deliver--us from the evil one

If in the "pattern of possession or belonging to the second person", that is, "to God", the pronoun was "your", the final four verbs pertain to "our" or "us".  In other words, the second set of verb-noun combinations forms a "pattern of possession or belonging to the first person plural", "to us".  After we have asked God to do some things for God's own sake, upon which our own survival also depends, now we begin to plea for God to do some things for us.  Give us daily bread.  Forgive us our debts.  Do not bring us into temptation.  Deliver us from the evil one.  All four pleas refer to situations unique to the human condition.  We are the ones in need of bread--not God.  We are the ones who have debts (or sins or trespasses)--God has none.  We are tempted--God is not.  We must be delivered--Satan poses no threat to God.  All of these predicaments are truly ours.  And thus, as before, we speak to the only One who can help us.

Now, regardless of whether the pattern is "your" (to God) or "our" (to us), each verb is a plea for God to do something.  God is the subject of doing, whether it be for God's own sake or for ours.  That is the case--with one exception.  Only one verb of the seven appears twice--to "forgive."  If we have prayed for God to forgive us our sins, we must also pray that "we forgive those who sin against us".  If we have prayed for God to forgive our debts, we also pray that "we forgive our debtors".  The two, in fact, are dependent one upon the other.  It is in the act of forgiveness alone that our agency and God's overlap.  God forgives us as we forgive one another.  We express our "godliness", our "god-likeness", through forgiveness.  We "are perfect as our heavenly father is perfect" (Mt 5:48) in no other way but as we extend love without condition to our fellow human beings.  We "complete" the love of an already "complete" God as "we love one another" (1 Jn 4:12).

If therefore we do, as Jesus commanded, "pray then in this way", forgiveness will be the spirituality of our lives; reconciliation its fruit; and peace the kingdom come--"on earth as it is in heaven".

-Joe

doing discipleship

I had the privilege last evening again to lead, with the pastor, a lesson on discipleship for mostly youth and young adults at Harvest Time Ministries.  Our text was Matthew 21:28-32.

The context of this text is the series of encounters between Jesus and the chief priest, elders of the people, and Pharisees after he has entered the temple during his passion week (21:23, 45).  This parable, like's Luke's better known story of "the prodigal son" (Lk 15:11-32), may be called "the parable of the two sons."  

I share the following insights from studying the text below.

1.  The parable seems to recommend a correspondence between the actions of the father and the actions of his children.  What the father does, he commands the children to do.  In the text, the father does two things: he goes to each child and he speaks to each child.  What he commands the children to do, similarly, is to go and to work--"in his vineyard" (23:28).  As the father has two activities, so his children.  This suggests to me, simply, that the sons and daughters of God must go where he calls us.  That is always the first step.  The second step, simply, is to be about God's business when we get there.  We are to "work" in God's vineyard.  That in turns suggests a challenge, for we must clearly discern between God's work and our own, and then submit to doing God's work when we may in fact prefer our own.

On the theme of this correspondence, one exceptionally bright girl from our study group suggested that "what God does, we can do because we are made in the image of God."  That theology and anthropology has its place, especially in this setting of historic disempowerment (colonialism and apartheid), of people's own sense of their loss of agency as human beings.  On the other hand, that kind of theology and anthropology is in the ascendancy here among types of churches with sometimes destructive effects upon community--since the encouragement to exercise one's authority in the image of God can be taken in a highly individualized sense, as though my God-given authority blinds me to the reality that God has also given his authority to others.  Thus, if two people who are "anointed" are to have a relationship, they must yield to one another.  So the continuing challenge is to affirm human dignity while not robbing others of their own.

2.  "The man" or the father in the story gives to both his children the same, basic tasks.  The text says that he "said the same" or "likewise" to the second child as he had said to the first.  This suggests, in the phrase of the same girl from our group, that "God is no respecter of persons."  And of course, what that old aphorism has always meant is that God does not privilege one of his children over another.  God does not see as humans typically see.  God looks not upon the stature of David, inferior to his brothers, but on David's heart, finding him fit to lead God's people.  In the text, this takes the form of Jesus deeming the unesteemed--the tax collectors and the prostitutes--as worthy of the kingdom as the esteemed, the religious leaders.  In fact, due to the leaders' pride, the tax collectors and prostitutes "are going into the kingdom of God ahead [of the religious leaders]" (v. 31).  But the basic point remains; in the beginning, both children--those who, because of whatever turn, became prostitutes and those who became religious leaders, were called by God "to go and work".  

3.  The difference between the two children is that the first "changed his mind and went" (v. 29), whereas the second did not go.  Of course, for the first child to change his mind implies that he once had a different mind from his father, that is, a mind not to do what his father told him to do.  In this sense, the first child is no different than the second child who clearly shows that he never had a mind to go even though he told the father that he would.  That is, both children did not want to go as the father commanded.  One, on the other hand, did go, after changing his mind--and that makes all the difference.

This means, therefore, that the decisive difference in God's eyes does not lie in what each child has spoken to his father.  If that were the case, then the second son would have been approved and the first not, since the second spoke what was right.  He said, in response to his father's call, "I go, sir" (v. 30).  While we could wish that the first child would have also made a right reply with his mouth, what is of first importance is that he put his actions in line with his father's will.

4.  The priority of doing over saying in Jesus' parable confirms the word of the apostle James, that true faith does not exist without good works (Ja 2:18-26).  The dynamic could be expressed like this: humans beings are justified, "declared righteous by God" on account of their faith, but their faith is justified, "declared righteous by God" on account of their works.  So then, by logic, do works justify us before God.  That still leaves us with the question of what kind of works justify, since works of ritual and purity are "morality" for some as much as compassion and mercy are for others (I believe Jesus sides definitively on that question as well).  Let it simply be said, however, that any confession that denies the place of works for salvation is less than true faith.   

5.  Jesus puts the matter of entering the kingdom of God in the hands and in the mouths of human beings.  He asks the religious leaders for the answer to his riddle--"Which of the two did the will of his father?" (v. 31).  Jesus does not condemn his opponents; they stand self-condemned.  It is they who give the right answer, knowing that the child who went and worked was the one who did his father's will, even as it is they who do not, in their own lives, do their father's will.  It is they who, like the second son, profess with their lips what is right but do not do as they say.  Thus, it is truly "by our words that we will be judged", for our words reveal our knowledge of God's will and leave us without excuse for making an honest attempt to put our actions in line (see Mt 12:36-37).

One final point:

No matter how obvious some of this may seem to works-oriented Christians, it is still worth saying that words are meaningless apart from their confirmation in the actions of human beings.  There is still too much posturing behind words without real substance in the world in which we live.

-Joe

sign of protection

As we did in 2010, we're leading a discipleship class at a local congregation, Harvest Time Ministries, on Wednesday evenings.  Since largely the group has changed since we last taught the class, we're again beginning with lessons from the gospels, primarily from the parables of Jesus.  The insight I'd like to report on here, however, comes not from my lesson but from the testimony of a man who was given a chance to speak after the lesson.  The purpose of his speaking was to clarify some things to the church about why he had been absent recently, and to reaffirm his support of the pastor.  Within that explanation, making a connection which I did not fully understand, the man narrated part of the story of Elijah and the prophets of Baal on Mt. Carmel (1 Kings 18).

The man's narration climaxed in the detail about the self-lacerations of the prophets of Baal in their plea to their god.  He contrasted their blood that flowed to no effect to the blood of Jesus which is "all that we need".  I don't know all that was in the man's mind when he made this application; I do know that to even make the application suggests a need within the cultural setting to hear such a message.  That need, I would guess, is the desire for healing of which the shedding of blood is often involved.  The story describes how the prophets of Baal, "as was their custom . . . cut themselves with swords and lances until the blood gushed out over them" (1 Kgs 18:28).  I immediately thought of the many people from this context who exhibit scars on their faces, signs of their own, or perhaps their parents', attempt to insert protective or healing traditional medicine (muthi) through incisions in the face.  In such a setting, the blood (life) of Jesus that protects us without the shedding of more blood is good news indeed.

-Joe

obedience and counting

At our Mennonite worker retreat over New Year's, each participant shared his or her personal faith story.  Additionally, each participant brought one topic for discussion to the group for our second hour of input.  On our day, Anna and I opened a discussion on Luke 14:25-33, a text which I have done some thinking about earlier in this blog and which is a difficult text for a mother and father of four children--for any family for that matter.

Indeed, this is the text in which Jesus speaks of the disciple's calling to "hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters" (14:26).  The text recommends a "forsaking all" for a life of following after Jesus.

In our discussion, we noted that the "forsaking all" of the text is somewhat analogous to the simple obedience with which biblical characters like Abram (in Gen 12:1-9, our first journey story for our first night of worship) set out to follow. Some of us called it "unquestioning", not raising any objections--though there may be many--to what God has asked us to do.  In our attempt to find common themes of "journeys with God", we couldn't deny that this must be one: the disciple's willingness simply to go where the teacher has led.

But that is not all.  Jesus, within the same text, speaks of a "counting the cost" of discipleship.  This "counting the cost", in fact, makes up the bulk of his words in the text and is the subject of his illustrations.  "Counting the cost" means "estimating" whether one has enough resources to "build a tower" before one begins to build it (14:28); it means calculating whether one has enough weaponry and manpower to defeat the enemy before one engages him in war (14:31).  There is only "ridicule" for the one who acts without counting (v. 30).  In light of this, therefore, the obedience inherent to following may not, in one sense, be so simple.  Information is needed, and evaluation.  And wisdom to choose the course that leads to the destination.

Nevertheless, "counting the cost" does not negate "simple obedience", any more than "simple obedience" means refusing to count.  Rather--and perhaps this is why Jesus speaks of them within the same breath--obedience and careful consideration are the two parts which make up the one complete whole of following him.

Lacking the simple desire to obey, we will never go.  And lacking the ability to assess what we need to survive, even to enjoy, the journey, we will never reach "the place in the distance" where God has led (see Gen 22:3-4).

-Joe