One Year Later

I thought it appropriate to use my first real blog post in forever to reflect on my achieving one year in Manila. Today, actually, is day #365 of my life in the Philippines. I arrived just after 9:00 in the morning June 17, 2008. It's been a fun year, and many more exciting things are to come. Turns out that I don't have anything much more profound to say than that.

Reading List: May 2009

I feel a little bad that my posting has dried up. Maybe I can rectify that in the near future, but most of my writing juices these days are sapped with the preparation of the two books to be released later this year. Anyway, here's what I read in May:

1. James L. Crenshaw, Old Testament Wisdom: An Introduction
2. James L. Kugel, The Great Poems of the Bible: A Reader's Companion with New Translations
3. Thomas W. Overholt, Channels of Prophecy: The Social Dynamics of Prophetic Activity
4. Brett W. Hawkins, Nashville Metro: The Politics of City-County Consolidation
5. A. J. Jacobs, The Year of Living Biblically: One Man's Humble Quest to Follow the Bible as Literally as Possible

6. Harvey H. Guthrie, Israel’s Sacred Songs: A Study of Dominant Themes

7. George Steiner, After Babel: Aspects of Language and Translation

8. Harald Lindström, Wesley and Sanctification (54 of 218 pages)

Reading List--April 2009

Most likely because the semester is over, I read a lot in April. Even with preparing for a summer class and editing two different book projects I still read the highest number of pages this year.

1. George Buttrick, So We Believe, So We Pray (145 of 226 pages)
2. Thomas Malory, Le Morte D'Arthur (trans. Keith Baines)
3. Isaac Asimov, A Choice of Catastrophes: The Disasters That Threaten Our World
4. Sally Pont, Fields of Honor: The Golden Age of College Football and the Men Who Created It
5. Carol Meyers, Households and Holiness: The Religious Culture of Israelite Women
6. Robert Louis Stevenson, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
7. James Carroll, Toward a New Catholic Church: The Promise of Reform
8. Mary Shelley, Frankenstein
   

The Second Sunday of Easter: Seen and Unseen

Acts 4:32-35; Psalm 133; 1 John 1:1-2:2; John 20:19-31

The "Old Testament" lesson (see previous cliched complaints of the absence of OT readings in the Easter season) and the Psalm have in the main to do with the unity of believers. As one might expect, this was something of a big deal especially in the early going, when Israel--and, later, the Church--was fighting to keep itself intact against the various intrusions of the wider society. And I'm going to refuse to get into the pseudo-communistic implications of Acts 4. The small "c" should be taken note of. It may be that this little passage in Acts 4 is a description of ideality, not reality, since immediately following upon it is one of those "scare into compliance" stories, with Ananias and Sapphira holding back some of the money from their property sale and saying that they brought everything. Nevertheless, the idea of harmony among the believing community is a good thing, even if stories like Acts 5 with its penalties for noncompliance are not especially helpful. As for the Psalm, it stays more on the ideal level without threats of violence against those who are not in the fold, or not completely in the fold.

The two passages from John--setting aside the fact that they're not from the same author, and probably not from the Apostle John--strike a different note from the unity of the believers, and a slightly different note from one another. Actually, one of the arguments in favor of common authorship for the Gospel and Epistles of John is their common concern for having seen and bearing witness to what has been seen. This emphasis comes out in the two passages today. In the Gospel text, "Doubting Thomas" is upbraided for only confessing faith in Christ when he sees the wounds in his hands. This lends us to the interpretation that we shouldn't ever doubt what is told us by God's authorized representatives, a kind of clerical triumphalism. It also ignores the fact that, earlier in the passage, the other disciples do not rejoice until AFTER they have seen the nail prints and the spear wound. It is rather easy, furthermore, to extract a general principle from Jesus' last statement, "Blessed are those who have not yet seen, and yet have come to believe." For that matter, this makes us better not only than "Doubting Thomas," but also of the rest of the disciples, for they didn't rejoice until after they had seen either. Something to think about.

But, then again, is it really the point that we be "better" than the disciples, who only rejoiced when they saw? Paul later called himself an eyewitness of the resurrection, although he himself and no one else actually saw it, except perhaps for the Roman soldiers, who weren't going to say anything for fear of having their heads lopped off anyway. So it was a big deal for the early Christians to trust the testimony of those who had seen. For that matter, both the Gospel and the First Epistle of John commend their readers to the testimony of "John" in whose name they are written. We know that his testimony is true, asserts the Gospel. We speak to you of the things we have seen, says the Epistle. There is certainly something to that.

But Jesus says in the Gospel text that those who have not seen are blessed when they come to believe. The Gospel of John has lots of healings of blind people, and for that matter begins its presentation talking about hoe the Logos was the light of the world, and how John (the Baptist, not the Apostle) came to bear witness to the light. In speaking this way, John (the Apostle, not the Baptist) bears his own testimony to that which he has seen and heard, looked at and touched with his hands, concerning the word of life. So, then, even though they probably do not go back to the same author and even though neither one probably go back to the Apostle John, nevertheless they are both concerned with vision and witness and testimony. Because "John" has seen, his testimony is true. Because we have not seen, our testimony is true. Therefore, whether seeing or unseeing, the key is bearing witness, living in unity, keeping from sin, and waiting for the Day when all things shall be seen. Amen.

Easter Sunday: Become What You Already Are

I am posting this a couple of days late, for a few reasons. The main reason is that the Internet was down at my apartment Saturday and Sunday. The other reason was that I was a little upset at what went on in the Easter service I attended, for reasons that I will not reveal. But, in any event:

Acts 10:34-43 OR Isaiah 25:6-9; Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24; I Corinthians 15:1-11 OR Acts 10:34-43; John 20:1-18; Mark 16:1-8

Of course, I am going to select the Old Testament reading. During the Easter season, the OT gets short changed a little bit by the lectionary. But that's another matter. A few years ago I was taking a course in the theology of Wolfhart Pannenberg, from one of the most influential teachers I've ever had, Craig Keen. The light finally came on for me when I suggested in class that Pannenberg's view was that, in the Resurrection, Jesus became, in the eyes of the disciples, what he had always been in the eyes of God. I think about that line, oddly enough, every time I see the old Disney movie The Lion King. This movie is based rather loosely on Hamlet, without, of course, most of the killing and the adultery and stuff, which wouldn't make a lot of sense for the kiddos.

In the Crucifixion, Jesus won the victory over sin's ultimate weapon. In the Resurrection, Jesus won the victory over death's ultimate weapon. The lectionary passages for Easter highlight that a new day has come. In the case of the identity of Jesus, he became in the eyes of his disciples what he already was. And in the extension of the offer of salvation to all of the world, the intention of God became in our eyes what it had always been. The Gospel lesson from John makes the same point. Thomas was not there when the disciples first saw Jesus, and he doubted, which has given him the unfortunate name "Doubting Thomas." Jesus chides Thomas for believing once he has finally seen, and then gives a promise that those who have not seen and yet have come to believe are blessed. That means us. And that means all who will hear the message because of us. Easter is a triumphant shout of victory, but it is also a battle cry. That Jesus was resurrected doesn't necessarily mean that we are blessed over against all the other great religions of the world, but it does mean that something new has happened. And when we see it, we recognize that this is the way it was supposed to be all along. Amen.

Holy Saturday: Catharsis

Job 14:1-14 OR Lamentations 3:1-9, 19-24; Psalm 31:1-4, 15-16; 1 Peter 4:1-8; Matthew 27:57-66 OR John 19:38-42

Different traditions of Christianity emphasize different days of Holy Weekend. The Roman Catholic pilgrims I watched outside the front gate of the seminary--thousands of them--emphasize the penitential aspects of Maundy Thursday and Good Friday. Some Protestants emphasize the glorious aspects of Easter Sunday, almost to downplay or ignore the very real suffering of Jesus on Good Friday. I try to hold the two of them together in my mind, but I am not always successful. In some ways the day of Holy Saturday is the most important of the two, because in it the turn is made from sorrow to joy. Many churches, in fact, have a midnight worship service in order to emphasize this turn.

The turn from sorrow to joy, especially coming from the penitential season of Lent into the celebratory season of Easter, is a great catharitic experience. There is somewhat of an emotional release, although it is not merely an emotional release. This is the grand old story of the faith. And we are telling it and acting it over again. That is all that needs to be said. That is all that can be said. Amen.

Good Friday: Not with a Whimper, but with a Bang

Isaiah 52:13-53:12; Psalm 22; Hebrews 10:16-26 OR Hebrews 4:14-16, 5:7-9; John 18:1-19:42

I'm writing this at the end of Good Friday, after the service I attended to hear, again, the Seven Last Words and reflections on them. I did not understand much of the latter, as the service was in Tagalog and my skills in that language are lacking. I did, however, resonate with the Seventh Last Word, "Tapos na!" "It is finished." This is a triumphant shout, not a cry of defeat.

I do not remember who wrote the lines, but I am always struck by

This is how the world ends,
this is how the world ends,
this is how the world ends,
not with a bang, but with a whimper.

But, instead, the world of Jesus the human, God become human and living among us in the world (he came to his own, but the world received him not) ended with a bang and not with a whimper. The Lamb left the world, crucified by the Romans at the instigation of the Jews, but as a Lion. And thus ended and began the greatest story the world has ever known. There is neither more nor less that needs to be said about that. Tapos na! was a cry of victory, that what Jesus came to do was accomplished.

One of my favorite "Jesus films" is The Last Temptation of Christ, a movie which got the evangelical community in the USA up in arms when it was released, in part for its depiction of Jesus imagining--as it turns out, with the help of Satan--living a life as a man, including being married first to Mary Magadalene and then to Mary and Martha of Bethany, begetting several children by the latter. With the exception of this and one or two other years, I have watched this movie either on Good Friday or Silent Saturday every year. At the end of the film and the novel, Jesus, having been returned to the Cross, shouts "It is accomplished!" What is meant by this line in Nikos Kazantzakis' novel and Martin Scorsese's film is that, in the words of George Orwell, Jesus "had won the victory over himself." Jesus had finally overcome the doubts that beset him throughout his career as "Not just a man, but the Son of Man, and more than that, the Son of God, and more than that, God."

The novel and the film explore in depth the human side of Jesus, which too often we miss in our proclamation. Unfortunately, some preaching about Jesus tends to be functionally Docetic. All of the Christological heresies agreed with orthodoxy that Jesus was God, but their disagreements and, ultimately, in the eyes of the Church, errors were constituted by various ways of denying that Jesus actually became human. So, for Kazantzakis, Tapos na! meant that Jesus became what he always was. This is precisely, I think, what we should be confessing about Jesus. On the one hand, Jesus' resurrection made him become, in the eyes of his disciples, what he always had been. But, on the other hand, in accepting his mission, and refusing the last temptation--which was to come down from the Cross, live and die as a man--he became in his own eyes what he had always been. And, in so doing, he also said, "It is finished!" to the old way of human life, living in bondage to the law of sin and death. By his death on the Cross, Jesus overcame sin's ultimate weapon. By his resurrection, Jesus overcame death's ultimate weapon. Tapos na! Amen.