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  

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   

preaching as brooding

For the topic of Preaching last weekend at Bethany Bible School, I selected three texts: Genesis 1:1-5; Jeremiah 1:1-10; John 1:1-9.

These three texts have in common a focus on the Word of God or, in other words, that which human preachers dare to proclaim when they preach. That preaching is a big job is underscored by the call of Jeremiah, in which the prophet reacts to the coming of the “word of the LORD” to him with self-degradation—“Truly I do not know how to speak, for I am only a boy” (1:4-5). Yet proclaiming that word to others is something he must do, though something he can only do because the word is not his but God’s own put within his mouth (1:6, 9).

If it is thus true that the call of Jeremiah establishes for us the preaching imperative, the preacher still needs to know what and how he/she should preach. Genesis 1:1-5, the first words of the Bible, sheds light on the how of preaching. It is interesting to note, for example, that the spoken word is not the first thing in the story; before God speaks (1:3), “God”, “the Spirit of God”, and “formless” material of some kind (along with darkness and water) are in the story (1:1-2). In other words, before the word which is “light” (1:3) is spoken, the Spirit of God has been “hovering over the waters” (1:2). Though the waters are dark, though the earth is “formless and void”, though the creation is not yet really creation, though it is chaos, yet something is there—something over which God is pleased to hover.

The Xhosa translation uses -fukama for what the Spirit was doing over the waters; –fukama, what a mother hen does to her eggs and chicks, is what God was doing to formless matter: lovingly, jealously guarding-protecting-keeping it, considering what it will be until the day it is born. God the Mother was brooding over the waters.

It is from such brooding that the word finally speaks—and orders-creates a world. It is from the hovering of the Spirit of God (1:2), from perhaps the Mind of God (1:1), that the Word of God creates.

This is all to say that the preacher—the one called to speak the Word of God—must hover over the things of creation that will be before his word can begin to order them. Herein lies a “how” of preaching, a method for preaching. Before the proclaimer can speak, he must brood over material as a hen over unborn offspring. She must consider all things—people’s lives and stories, culture, news, proverbs, wisdom and—of course, especially—the text itself. Somehow, out of that consideration, by the Spirit of God, the creative Word speaks (or the spoken Word creates). This is a call for preparation—not of a rigid, inflexible kind but of a prayerful “brooding” over stories and the Story until the preacher has virtually taken them into herself. In short, a preparation of the Spirit.

The hovering of the Spirit of God has a second, equally important, implication for preachers and their preaching. Just as the Spirit hovered before the Word was spoken (not before the Word was), so the Spirit of God hovers over the things of creation before the preacher speaks or fashions them into a world. For the preacher this means that, no matter how chaotic the world to which he comes might be, how much unlike an ordered world it seems, that world—its inhabitants, its stories, its wisdom—is lovingly kept by its loving God. The Mother Hen is guarding her children and watching the preacher, keen to see whether his words will conform to the spirit of care with which God broods over them. Though, as God attested to Jeremiah, the Word can have a rough edge—“to pluck up and to pull down, to destroy and to overthrow” (1:10)—its ultimate purpose is “to build and to plant” (1:10). Tough love must be God’s and not the preacher’s own—it must come from the Word or not at all. God will judge the preacher if his words do not convey God’s love for the people.

Third, on this point, the brooding of the Spirit before the spoken Word contains an obvious connection to the missio Dei, or that common concept in mission theology that Christian mission is God’s and not our own. The implication of the missio Dei, of course, is that—in spite of certain historical mission rhetoric—the missionary does not “bring God” to people who do not know God; rather, the missionary, like Paul, proclaims “the unknown God” from within known cultural categories (Acts 17:22ff.) and toward the revelation of God through God’s Word. The presence of God before/ahead of us with others is essential for missionary patience and trust—virtues through which love is expressed to others.

Finally, a God-focused rather than a preacher-focused approach to preaching resonates with John 1:1-9, the third text here considered. For just as the “man sent from God, whose name was John” was “not himself the light” but only a “witness” to the light, so is any preacher in relation to the Word (1:6-8). For Christian preaching, that “Word” which “was in the beginning with God and was God” is Jesus himself (1:1-2); “for we do not proclaim ourselves; we proclaim Jesus Christ as Lord and ourselves as your slaves for Jesus’ sake” (2 Cor 4:5). He is, in the end, both “what”—who—we proclaim and “how” we must proclaim what we proclaim. For it was his Spirit that lovingly hovered over the waters at creation as “a hen gathers her brood under her wings” (Lk 13:34).

-Joe

Jesus Our Obedience

Our topic last Saturday at Bethany Bible School was Creation, Sin, Redemption, or the basic course I've outlined on soteriology, the Christian teaching on how Christ saves. I included the three words--creation, sin, redemption (or salvation)--in the course title in order to make it clear that salvation from sin is of or for the creation. In other words, salvation is not an experience unrelated to how God created us to live as God's creatures in God's creation. On the contrary, salvation has everything to do with human life. It is not simply preparation for a future, as-of-yet unexperienced reality (though it does prepare us for whatever lies ahead); it is, simply, the life that God created us to live. Because of sin, our rebellion against God, our disobedience to the Creator's will, salvation is new creation, that is, it is a making new of something which had lost its way or fallen away from the Creator's design. Therefore, albeit "new", the connection of creation to salvation, is, quite obviously, close.

I take as critical to my understanding of the relationship between creation, sin, and redemption the logic which the Apostle Paul employs in Romans 5-6. Paul talks about sin entering the creation through human disobedience (see Rom 5:19). Sin is the force of disobedience. If therefore, sin is the sickness, that from which humans must be saved in order to be restored to the will of God, it follows that its cure, that which takes away its effect, is obedience. Salvation is the force of obedience.

All of this brings us to Christ, the Savior. Christ is the force of obedience. By becoming like us, "in the likeness of sinful flesh" (Rom 8:3), yet "without sin" (Heb 4:15), Christ reversed the curse of disobedience in the human will. Through his obedience to the love of God, Christ opened the way of obedience to God for all human beings. As the writer of Hebrews said, "he learned obedience through what he suffered; and having been made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him" (5:8-9). As the Son's obedience to the Father was the source of his salvation in the flesh, his rescue, his being made perfect, his exaltation (Php 2:9), his being raised from the dead, so our obedience to the Son, to walk in the way of Jesus, is our salvation. And because Jesus is raised, exalted, complete, beyond what we have been, he is, in the words of Paul, a spiritual person who gives life--not merely a human being to whom life and breath was given (see 1 Cor 15:45). He is a Spirit, the Holy Spirit, who abides with us as we hear his Word and begin to live by it. He is the One who inspires our obedience to the love of God--and so saves us.

-Joe

now is the time

A text which I have thought a lot about since being in South Africa, Jesus' story of the rich man and Lazarus (Luke 16:19-31), came up again last Sunday in the sermon of Pastor Ntapo. Some of his key insights are below.

• The time for salvation is now. It is unwise to put off those difficult things in life which we must do. The rich man, in the pastor's words, "never took time to consider his life" because he was "caught up in the things of the world", caring more about his purple robes and fine feasts (v. 19) than the essence of life itself. Though the pastor himself did not say this, by implication that essence of life which the rich man should have considered was available to him in the person of Lazarus, that "poor man at his gate" (v. 20). By opening his eyes to see the poor man, "covered with sores" (v. 20), the rich man might have realized his own vulnerability and ultimate fate as one subject to death. He realized his own pain only after death, "tormented in Hades" (v. 23), when it was too late for him to amend his ways.
• The laws of God's creation are fixed. When the rich man finally realizes his own vulnerability, he wishes that Lazarus might be sent to him in Hades with water to cool his tongue (v. 24). "Father Abraham", the one to whom the rich man makes his request, denies it, in part on the basis that "between ["Abraham's bosom where Lazarus resides after death] and [Hades where the rich man resides after death] a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so, and no one can cross from there to us" (v. 26). This point thus reaffirms the first point: the time that the Creator has set for human obedience is between birth and death--not after. This is a reality that we might want to protest but have absolutely no power to change. But realizing the order of creation, we do have the power to live life harmoniously, joyfully within it, in spite of life's struggles.
• A person remains in death what he or she was in life. Even if more chances to get life right, that is, after death, were available to us, they would come to nothing. Even torment in Hades could not change the rich man's behavior. He still imagined that he had the power to command Lazarus in the manner of many who are rich--he still imagined that Lazarus existed to serve him. Thus the rich man called out to Abraham, "send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am in agony in these flames" (v. 24). This point is also related to the previous two: because the time is now by order of God, those who seek comfort in death in relation to others must seek it in life in relation to others. If the rich man in death now wants to see Lazarus, albeit from an assumed position of superiority, why would he not see him in life who "lay at his gate" (v. 20)? In order to relate to others in death, we must be related to them in life. If we shall live with them then, we will live with them now.

In summary, therefore, the emphasis lies in this life. All roads lead to the present. By the grace of God, righting the wrongs of the past now will secure for us a goodly future.

-Joe

as the head, so the body

The Christ hymn of the book of Colossians, 1:15-20, claims, once at the beginning and once at the end, that the “beloved Son” (1:13) is so close to “the Father” (1:12) that he is with the Father one God. First, in v. 15, it claims that the Son “is the image of the invisible God”; second, in v. 19, it claims that in the Son, “all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell.” These twin statements about the identity of God the Son are complemented by twin statements about the activity of God the Son as Creator and Savior. First, “in him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or powers—all things have been created through him and for him” (v. 16); second, “through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven” (v. 20). Obviously, the work of the Son in creation and salvation in this second pair of statements is emphasized by the language of “all things”—first, the Son is the one through whom “all things” were created; second, the Son is the one through whom “all things” were reconciled to God. Moreover, in both cases, “all things” include that which is “in heaven and on earth” (v. 16, 20). In short, therefore, as reflected in this hymn, the early Christians claimed that Christ Jesus, the Son of the Father, one God from “before all things” (v. 17), is the Creator and Savior of the universe (or whatever is the biggest possible designation for “all things”).

Alongside these lofty claims, however, are two claims “from below.” That is, if the Son is God, the Invisible One, he is also simply “the head of the body, the church” (v. 18), the visible one. God, who is Spirit, who has no body in the form of God’s creation, is nonetheless, in Christ, the “head of the body, the church”, made up of many human members. A second claim “from below” is more shocking: the One in whom “all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell” is the same One through whom God “was pleased to reconcile to himself all things . . . by making peace through the blood of his cross” (v. 19-20). God, the eternal one, “before all things,” Creator not created, became in Christ the mortal one, beneath all things, rejected, crucified—“on the cross.” God, “before all things”, is “pleased” to work in no other way than “through the cross,” through God’s giving of God’s self to the world in creation and redemption. God, though “before all things,” is not a God who stands far off from all things, but enters into their condition in order to redeem them. God is pleased to dwell in the flesh, and to be glorified in it.

And how will God be glorified in the flesh?

If the dual claims “from above”—that the Son is God who creates and redeems all things—are related—then so too the claims “from below”—“the head of the body, the church” reconciles all things to God “by making peace through the blood of his cross” (vv. 18, 20). As the church proclaims in word and deed—in true worship—the identity and activity of the Son, it becomes like its “head.” The church that truly sings of its head will become like its head. The church that claims the identity of its head must take up the activity of its head, “making peace”—even at the cost of its own life, “through the blood of his cross.”

-Joe

fear and fears

Last week I reported on some of my method and content for teaching the Gospel of Matthew at our Bethany Bible School conference earlier this month. Now for Mark.

Mark's gospel is the one with which I have been the most familiar, having taken a course on it in seminary. And, if I had to choose one gospel with which to be most familiar, I would choose Mark, for knowing Mark allows one to know the basic structure of the Jesus-story; Mark's frame is the one which Matthew and Luke most likely built upon in giving us their own account of Jesus' life.

Even so, I needed to revisit Mark afresh to pump new life into my ability to teach it. This time around I particularly noticed Mark's narrative comments about the "sea" in Jesus' ministry. Jesus is always on or around the sea (of Galilee): teaching "beside the sea", from the boat while a great crowd listens to him from the land (3:7-9; 4:1); going across the sea to the "other side", where he delivered the man from Gerasa who had a "legion" of demons, and fed the five thousand in a "desert place" (5:1-21; 6:30-44); on the sea, preaching peace to the storm, and later, "walking on the sea", revealing himself as the presence of God to his disciples ("Do not fear--I AM") (6:50) (4:35-41; 6:47-52).

Why does it seem that Mark was so keen on emphasizing that the Jesus story took place on or around the sea? We might say simply that this is so because the Jesus story did take place beside the sea, and Mark was simply reporting the facts. But something more is going on. Each gospel writer did frame the Jesus story in his own way. We noted how Matthew emphasizes Jesus' teachings in five main sections, each encapsulated by a common narrative refrain. Luke chose to emphasize, even though the early part of Jesus' ministry also takes place in Galilee, that Jesus' ministry took place "on the way to Jerusalem" (from 9:51 onward). The word "Jerusalem" occurs 30 times in Luke, compared with only 10 and 12 respectively for Mark and Matthew. This is all to emphasize that Mark framed his own story about Jesus around the sea; that was the detail he particularly wanted to highlight about Jesus' ministry. So again we ask, why? And so I asked my students.

"What is the significance of the sea?"

"The sea is like the kingdom of God," said one man. "You go to the sea and it takes away everything. Everything [sin, impurity, etc.] gets washed away in the sea."

"The sea is like God," said one old woman.

"How?" I inquired.

"It is sort of scary."

The sea is scary as God is scary--this would be the old woman's logic. I think that many western Christians would deny such a statement with their words. At least I think they wouldn't come out with such a statement as innocently, unashamedly as this woman seemed to do so. Indeed, God for us is supposed to be gentle, comforting, a shepherd who carries us on his shoulders rather than one who keeps us in line with his staff. Scariness, or fear, is supposed to be the enemy of God who is love, whose "perfect love casts out fear" (1 Jn. 4:18).

If, however, I am honest with myself, God is still scary to me. I also experience the comforting God, the God who casts out my fear and leaves joy in its place. But I am not so mature as to have left behind the scary God. We might say that scary is not the right word, and it wouldn't be my first choice. Let us use instead "fear", which is a biblical word and which we might rationalize can mean something more along the lines of that which inspires awe. Yet even that awe is not without fright, for it is the awe of an experience of something so immense that it could utterly overcome, consume the one who stands in its presence. Not unlike a human being before the sea. The sea is big to us in a manner like God is big to us. The woman's point is well-made.

I also think this is Mark's point. The sea, in broad biblical perspective, is that untameable force which was tamed by God. The order of creation came about by God separating the waters, assigning them their place in order that dry land could appear, then produce, then sustain human life. The waters were there, the great, dark "deep", before God said "Let there be light" and began to make a world (Gen. 1). The waters indeed seem before all things, except the One who is not a thing. We might think that the sea is God, if God had not revealed himself, as he did to Job, as the one who said to the sea, " 'Thus far shall you come, and no farther, and here shall your proud waves be stopped' " (Job 38:11).

All this points us to a reality that something greater than the sea is with us, someone greater, in fact, than all powers and principalities of this world. If that is the case, we need not fear, as Jesus commanded his disciples in the midst of the storm on the sea; we need not fear, that is, the sea and all powers because "I AM", "God is with us" (Mk. 6:50).

But must we fear the One who is greater than the sea?

I think we must. I think, in fact, it is the only way to live joyfully, peacefully, lovingly, in a world which fears the world. The world is now betraying us, as we have betrayed it. Natural disasters increase, sweeping humans away, as our climate changes. We are told we are on the brink of chaos. We can no longer trust the world. Our misplaced trust is now exposed. Yet if God is our Fear (Gen. 31:42, 53), the fears of the world will not destroy us. If God is our Fear, we will not cling to our lives as if no other life exists. If scarcity increases, we will share what we have with others in faith that God will provide. We will "not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather fear him who can destroy both body and soul in hell" (Mt. 10:28). Jesus said that. And it is that fear which he meant to be our comfort.

-Joe

"Who then is this?"

Our November conference topic at Bethany Bible School was the Lord's Supper. Based on five key repeated words in the text, Mark 14:12-25, I made five points.

1. The Supper is the Lord's. The possessive pronoun "my" in relation to Jesus is prominent in the text.

2. The Supper is for disciples. The word "disciples" makes four appearances, all but one in explicit relation to Jesus through the use of the possessive "his" or "my", depending on the speaker. In addition, the text makes two references to "the twelve", a synonymous term.

3. The Supper requires preparation. Variations on the verb "prepare" number five in the text.

4. The central act of the Supper is eating. Variations on the verb "eat" number four.

5. The Supper was a Passover meal. The noun "Passover" likewise makes four appearances.

I learned much by studying and teaching this text. Above all, the text confronted me again--in the manner of Mark's gospel--with the question of Jesus' true identity.

How? The character of Jesus inspires wonder. He is direct, unequivocal; for that very reason he is mysterious. Ordinary people do not speak as Jesus speaks.

He calls ordinary bread "my body." He takes a cup and says "this is my blood." Earlier, he instructs the disciples to go into the city where they will meet a man carrying a jar of water. As they are to follow that man, Jesus tells the disciples to enter "wherever he enters" and "say to the owner of the house, " 'The Teacher asks, Where is my guest room where I may eat the Passover with my disciples' " (14:14). It is there, in that guest room--"a large room upstairs whose furnishings have been fully prepared"--that the disciples will prepare the Passover.

Though the disciples will prepare the Passover, however, they find that preparations have already been made for them. At the beginning of the text, they do not know where they will observe the Passover: "Where do you want us to go and make preparations for you to eat the Passover?" (14:12); their Teacher has known all along. His word has gone before, preparing their way. Or perhaps he has foreseen the man carrying water, the owner of the house, the upper room. Regardless, the guest room, like the bread and the cup, are his--"my room"; "my body"; "my blood."

Earlier in Mark, the disciples "were filled with great awe" at him who calmed the storm: "Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?" (4:41) Similarly, we might ask, "Who is this, who calls bread "my body" and a cup "my blood"? This is not only a looking forward, that is, to his crucifixion--"my blood of the covenant which is poured out for many" (though it is surely that); this is a looking back, to the beginning. Before the disciples mixed the flour and formed the cakes, before the grapes were gleaned and pressed for drink, someone made the sun to shine and the rain to fall. Someone grew the grain and ripened the fruit.

"Who then is this, who says, 'Creation is mine' ?"

This is Jesus, the giver of life, the Lord of creation.

-Joe