taking supper

When I taught on the theme of the Letters of Paul earlier this month, I used 1 Corinthians 11:17-34 as a case study in the thought of Paul.  As I had spent much time reading through the Pauline corpus in my preparation, I was drawn to a threefold emphasis on Paul’s personal call (or his relationship to the Lord Jesus Christ); Paul’s eschatological focus (or his focus on “last things”, which for Paul meant that the resurrection of Jesus was the fulfillment and “first fruits” of a final age, the embodiment in the present of the world still to come); and Paul’s ecclesiological focus (the centrality of the ekklesia, the church, to Paul’s thought, and also to his personal call and his eschatology).  The importance of his call, his belief that the old world was ending and the new world had come in the resurrected Christ, and his conviction that the church was the sign of the resurrection and that new world, seem to be the theological bases on which Paul formulated specific and contextually-shaped guidance on the everyday ethical issues facing his church communities.  1 Corinthians 11:17-34 is one textual illustration, among many potential options within his writings, of Paul’s theologically-based moral reasoning.

The problem with which 1 Corinthians 11:17-34 deals is “divisions among [the Corinthian church]” (v. 18), specifically manifested in the church’s common meal.  Paul summarizes the problem for the Corinthians as he has heard about it:

“For when the time comes to eat, each of you goes ahead with your own supper, and one goes hungry and another becomes drunk” (v. 21).

In contrast to what the church’s meal was purported to be, Paul, in light of the evidence, asserts that the Corinthians are indeed not eating “the Lord’s Supper” (v. 20).  Paul then proceeds to remind the Corinthian church what the supper of the Lord did entail, and assumes that the contrast between it and the Corinthians’ practice is obvious.

But is it obvious to us?  How is the remembrance of Jesus’ eating with his disciples on the night he was betrayed (v. 23) an antidote to the church’s practice of eating together?  What is it about the tradition of Jesus’ last supper that judged the Corinthians’ habits at supper?

Perhaps Paul’s intended contrast can be found in his use of the Greek verb lambano , to take, as he applies it to the supper etiquette of both the Lord Jesus and the Corinthian church.  Whereas “each” of the Corinthian believers or “each” of the Corinthian church factions, according to Paul, “goes ahead [prolambanei, literally takes before] with your own supper”, “the Lord Jesus . . . took [elaben] a loaf of bread and gave it to others.  Whereas the Corinthian Christians took and consumed the common food before everyone had had a chance to eat, Jesus—the honored head of the household—took the bread of the meal, gave thanks, broke it, and said, “This is my body that is for you” (v. 24).  Whereas the Corinthians take their meal before everyone has been served, Jesus gives that which is his to others before serving himself.

It is this Jesus way of taking supper that Paul commends as the antidote to the Corinthians’ hunger and drunkenness, and which forms Paul’s specific counsel to the Corinthian church: not take before (v. 21) but “wait for one another” (v. 33).

As Paul moves from the problem (“taking before”) to the solution (“wait for one another”), his call, his eschatology, and his ecclesiology are clearly in view.  In reciting the Jesus tradition of supper for the Corinthians, Paul claims it as his own.  “For I received from the Lord what I also handed on to you” (v. 23).  That which Paul saw fit to hand on to others he first had to welcome in his own life.  Paul’s personal connection to Jesus, his experience of being embraced by his Lord, is the strength by which and for which he hands on the way of Jesus to others.

Moreover, Paul’s purpose in handing on the way of Jesus to others is eschatological; by eating the bread and drinking the cup in the manner of Jesus the church “proclaims the Lord’s death until he comes” (v. 26).  Though the resurrection of Jesus is not here explicit (but see chapter 15!), it is here for Paul the invisible pivot between the Lord’s death and his coming again.  Because he is raised, the Jesus who died will come again.

Finally, it is up to the church, the ekklesia, to proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes, that is, to embody now within its common life—indeed in the ordinary but essential practices of eating and drinking—the just and equal sharing of the age to come.  In the time between the passing of the old and the arrival of the new, the community of God’s people is the frail but precious witness to the hope of a new creation, the cause for which Paul urges greater faithfulness to the one in whom all things hold together.

-Joe

“the fellowship of his sufferings”

I’ve been immersed in the letters of Paul for the last two weeks as I’m preparing to teach on that subject for BBS next month.  I’ll try to share some of my findings here over the next few posts, beginning today with Philippians 3:2-11.

I was drawn to this text in light of the question, Who was Paul?  Indeed, in this text, Paul outlines as explicitly as he does anywhere else the details of his personal identity.  Thus, in terms of determining the identity of the man to whom is ascribed the majority of words in the New Testament, this seemed to be as good a place to start as any.

the Apostle Paul

Philippians 3:2-11 is notable for Paul’s usage of the language of “losses” (also could be translated as “damages”) and “gains”.  Those features of Paul’s life which he regarded as gains or benefits he came to regard as losses for the sake of his relationship to Jesus Christ.  If we line up Paul’s gains and losses, as the structure of Paul’s rhetoric suggests we might, some fruitful interpretive possibilities begin to emerge.

Following the Greek, I count seven losses in Christ (gains from the perspective of life apart from Christ) and seven gains in Christ (losses from the perspective of life apart from Christ).  This, then, is how they line up.

Losses in Christ (vv. 5-6)                           Gains in Christ (vv. 9-10)

1. circumcised on the eighth day . . . . . . be found in him [Christ]

2. from the people of Israel . . . . righteousness from faith of Christ

3. from the tribe of Benjamin . . . righteousness from God upon faith

4. a Hebrew of Hebrews . . . . . . . . . . . . to know him [Christ]

5. as to the law a Pharisee . . . . . . and the power of his resurrection

6. as to zeal a persecutor of the church . . fellowship of his sufferings

7. blameless under the law . . . . . . . . being conformed to his death

Though many of the losses in Christ, on the one hand, and gains in Christ, on the other, may be synonymous, seeing each as distinct uncovers rich nuances in meaning.  Paying attention to distinctions enables us, as we’ve done above, to match losses with gains.  A few of those matches may be worth commenting on.

For example, a direct contrast might be seen between Paul’s first line of loss and gain, his circumcision as a Jew on the eighth day and being “found in Christ”.  Whereas circumcision was the rite by which males born to Jewish families became forever incorporated into the people of God, Paul prefers rather now “to be found”—not among his own people—but “in Christ”.

We might draw another contrast from Paul being, “according to righteousness under the law, blameless” (line 7 above) and Paul “being conformed to the death [of Christ]”.  According to the law, Jesus himself in his death on the cross was not righteous but precisely “cursed” (Gal 3:13/Deut 21:23), though to God the cross revealed his righteousness, later sealed by his resurrection.  Having been found in Christ, Paul too seeks the righteousness of Christ “by becoming like him in his death” (3:10 NRSV)—not the righteousness “that comes from the law” (3:9).  It is no longer to the law but to God himself whom Paul desires to be “blameless”.

A third contrast can be found on line 6, between Paul formerly being a zealous “persecutor of the church” to Paul sharing in “the fellowship [Greek: koinonia] of [Christ’s] sufferings”.  In Christ, Paul now suffers with that very community upon which he once inflicted pain.  The enemies of his zeal have become the fellowship of his joy.  Likewise, it is this “fellowship of Christ’s suffering”, the church, which is the key to understanding the letters of Paul.  It is to the church that he wrote, urging its members on to faithfulness to God and love for one another amidst suffering, the cause for which Paul counted all else as loss in Christ.

-Joe

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