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.

Maundy Thursday: The Funded Mandate

Exodus 12:1-4, (5-10) 11-14; Psalm 116:1-2, 12-19; 1 Corinthians 11:23-26; John 13:1-17; 31b-35

I'm actually writing this entry on Good Friday, because I spent all day yesterday escorting the Work and Witness team on campus on a sightseeing trip. We spent time going up to a beautiful waterfall, enjoying the richness of creation with a view toward praising the creator. Two of us, one of the team members and I, took the additional step of being pulled under the falls on a bamboo raft. This got us exceedingly wet, but we got to enjoy an extra view of various caves and wonderful rock formations behind the falls. So, anyway, that's where I spent Maundy Thursday, and then I ate a Passover meal, of sorts, with my faculty colleague who is the main sponsor of this work team and the team members. I thought I simply couldn't leave out Maundy Thursday as I did with one of the Sundays of Lent. I probably should have written an entry like this for each of the days of Holy Week. I didn't, though, because of responsibilties related to the wrapping up of the semester. Enough of the excuses.

Maundy Thursday has been a significant day for me in the Christian calendar since I was first introduced to some special practices involved with it when I was a teenager. The church we attended at that time practiced foot-washing on Maundy Thursday, an idea which instantly turned me offand in which I consequently never participated. This is in part related to my own squeamishness, but also because the theological significance of the rite was not fully explained to us. This was a failure of the catechetical operation of that particular church, though I am not setting out in this piece to be critical of former churches.

The association of Maundy Thursday with the institution of the Eucharist was communicated to me in college. Then, in seminary, Holy Week took on an especially significant flavor, as Maundy Thursday services--in which I often publicly read Scripture during Eucharist--were joined with the Service of Darkness on Good Friday. I intend to post a Good Friday meditation later today, but I am also attending a service at Antipolo First Church of the Nazarene at 3:00 PM, which I think is perhaps the most appropriate time to have a Good Friday service, for it is the "ninth hour" of the day when our Lord is said to have died.

I once preached a Maundy Thursday sermon under the title "Funded Mandate." At the time, the phrase "unfunded mandate" was all the rage in the American political scene, describing the complaints of state and local leadership that the federal government was mandating certain things (really savage things, by the way, like making facilities accessible to the physically challenged) without providing funds necessary to come into compliance. The name "Maundy Thursday" comes from the Latin Vulgate translation of John 13:34--I give you a mandatum novatum, a new commandment, that you love one another.

That this commandment comes in the midst of Jesus washing the disciples' feet is what was not properly communicated to me when I was a kid. This is the supremely funded mandate, for throughout the Gospel of John Jesus is shown to be doing for the disciples everything that God has done for him--sending them into the world, providing comfort and direction, protecting them from evil. As, therefore, Christ has loved us, so we are to love one another, as says the second part of John 13:34. We are not merely commanded to come into compliance with a new directive from the leadership (a really savage thing, by the way, like loving one another) and left to find our own resources to do it, but instead we are but following the example of Christ. And he left us yet a further example by what happened to him the day after washing his disciples' feet. Though we might not be called to do exactly that in following the further example, nevertheless we are called to follow the example of Christ in expending our lives for the redemption of the world. This is a mandate which we must follow. But there is funding available. Amen.

Palm Sunday: Fully in the Light Again, We See the Cross

Isaiah 40:4-9a; Psalm 31:9-16; Philippians 2:5-11; Mark 14:1-15:47 OR Mark 15:(1-39)40-47

It is something of a cliche' to highlight the contrast between the chorus' lines "Hosanna! King of the Jews!" on Palm Sunday and "Crucify him!" on Good Friday. So I will not do that. But I do remember once attending Eucharist at an Episcopal Church some years ago on Palm Sunday. After receiving the Sacrament--or maybe it was before; my memory is unclear--someone pressed into our hands a blunted nail. This was to indicate something of the role each one of us had to play in the crucifixion of Jesus. While, at the time, it wasn't a very healthy thing for me to hear, as I was going through a rather dark spiritual time, it does indicate something interesting. In a way, even though none of us drove the nails, we all had a part in the death of Jesus, because it was for our sin that he died.

The Mel Gibson movie The Passion of the Christ, supposedly, showed Gibson's own hand driving the nail into Jesus' wrist. I suppose it would have spoiled the illusion to have left Gibson's wristwatch in the shot, since of course first century CE Roman soldiers didn't know anything of Timex or Rolex or whatever it is Gibson owns and wears. But, at the same time, it would have made a rather profound theological statement, even as did the blunted nail pressed into my hand wherever it was and whenever it was.

I have a dim recollection of an exchange in another film, The Shawshank Redemption. Andy DuFresne is talking to Red Ellis (Tim Robbins and Morgan Freeman) and he says, "I killed my wife, Red. I didn't pull the trigger, but I pushed her away" into the arms of the lover with whom she was murdered. Red tries to console Andy: "That doesn't make you a murderer. Bad husband, maybe." But there is a hint of unreality to Red's words. In the same way, I didn't drive the nails into the wrists of Jesus, but it was for me that this was done. And so, surrounded by the great cloud of witness, I cast aside every weight and the sin which clings so closely, and run the race that is marked out for me, keeping my eyes fixed on Jesus, the author and perfecter of my faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame.

Hebrews got it right. The light has fully dawned. We have come out of the dark wood of Lent, thinking that the difficult part of our journey is over. But, just around that bend up there... Amen.

Reading List--March 2009

1. Philip R. Davies and John Rogerson, The Old Testament World (2nd. ed.; 116 of 245 pages)
2. Nancy Eiesland, The Disabled God: Toward a Liberatory Theology of Disability
3. Samuel Noah Kramer, History Begins at Sumer: Thirty-Nine Firsts in Recorded History
   
4. George Buttrick, So We Believe, So We Pray (81 of 226 pages)
   

AP Story Mentions APNTS

March 31, 6:15 PM EDT

Giraffe to Receive Master of Divinity

By ANN DAYAMO
AP Education Writer

Taytay, Rizal, Philippines (AP)--Asia-Pacific Nazarene Theological Seminary (APNTS), located in the suburbs of Manila, has always prided itself on providing quality graduate theological education to students from many different cultures. This year is no exception. In commencement services to be held on the Seminary's campus Saturday, April 4, a giraffe will march in the graduation ceremony, receiving his Master of Divinity degree along with seven human counterparts from three different countries.

The Rev. Mr. Steven Fulsian is the first non-human to take courses in the twenty-five year history of APNTS. Mr. Fulsian says, "It was hard for me to adjust to the low ceilings, but through the help of God I have been able to finish my degree in only four years." Before coming to the Seminary, Mr. Fulsian, an ordained minister in the Saharan Holiness Church, had established and maintained a ministry geared toward the physical and spiritual needs of giraffes in his native Kenya. "I hope," he continues, "that my success will encourage other non-humans to pursue theological education."

Mr. Fulsian's academic pursuits were not without their challenges, however. According to Dr. Floyd Cunningham, president of APNTS, "Our initial fear was not Steven's height, but his ability to communicate in English." Due to the existence of hundreds of languages and dialects throughout the Asia-Pacific region APNTS serves, all instruction at the Seminary is conducted in English. Incoming students whose native language is not English are required to pass the Test of English as a Foreign Language (TOEFL). Master of Divinity students like Mr. Fulsian must pass with a minimum TOEFL score of 500, while candidates for some other degrees must achieve at least 550. Though Mr. Fulsian had learned a good deal of English on an informal basis, listening to missionaries teaching English to children in Kenya, he had certain physiological difficulties which made speaking a bit of a chore. In addition, the English used in academic theology is more sophisticated than the typical conversational English to which Mr. Fulsian had previously been exposed. Upon his arrival at the APNTS campus in July 2005, Mr. Fulsian's initial TOEFL score was 460, insufficient to begin taking graduate classes. However, students scoring between 450 and 499 are allowed provisional acceptance and the privilege of taking non-credit English courses. Mr. Fulsian spent his first year of study in such courses, under the tutelage of Professor Beverly Gruver. Mrs. Gruver says, "Steven fervently applied himself to the study of English, and achieved one of the highest levels of improvement in TOEFL scores ever seen at APNTS." When Mr. Fulsian took the TOEFL again the next July, his score was 575, sufficient to enroll in any degree program offered by the Seminary.

Mr. Fulsian's physical stature also contributed to his unique experience. The APNTS campus is built on two adjoining, hilly plots of land in the Manila suburb of Taytay. Human students often complain of the arduous climb, especially of the 40 steps up to the main classroom building, known as Owens Hall, after the founding president of the Seminary. The Seminary conceded to Mr. Fulsian's needs by providing secure platforms at strategic points along the hill where he could stand and be able to stick his head through open windows to participate in class. In addition, computer operators and reading assistants were employed throughout Mr. Fulsian's stay at the Seminary to compensate for his lack of fingers. Mr. Fulsian praised the Seminary's efforts to accomodate his imposing physical presence. "APNTS really opened their doors," he says. Then, correcting himself, he continues, "I mean, their windows to me, and I am forever in their debt." Mr. Fulsian's height will also necessitate a change in the typical graduation exercises. Normally students wear academic gowns and walk across the stage one at a time to receive a hood from faculty members, decorated with the colors of the degree and the Seminary. In Mr. Fulsian's case, the gown and the stage march are excluded, but he will be given a hood. After the ceremony, when he stretches to his full height, the hood will settle across his shoulders as it is designed to do.

Master of Divinity graduates at APNTS are required to complete 90 semester hours, not including any remedial English study that may be needed. The Seminary also offers the degrees of Master of Arts in Religious Education, Master of Arts in Christian Communication, and Master of Science in Theology. APNTS is a graduate school in the Wesleyan tradition, preparing men and women--and, now, giraffes--for Christlike leadership and excellence in ministries.

Great line

Reading student papers, I came up with a great line on the fly. It was in response to a bright student's suggestion that the student was not keen enough to grasp certain important issues:

"False humility winds up, in the end, being more false than humble."

The Fifth Sunday in Lent: Is That Light up ahead?

Jeremiah 31:31-34; Psalm 51:1-12 OR Psalm 119:9-16; Hebrews 5:5-10; John 12:20-33

I returned to my dark wood/light fading metaphor of Lent before checking out the lectionary passages for today. I have discovered the title couldn't be more apt. For the lectionary texts today (choosing either Psalm option) seem to signal a shift from darkness to light, from the coldness of night to the warmth of a dawning new day. Jeremiah's "new covenant" passage is justifiably famous in Christian circles, and even though I would quibble with a too-hasty Christologizing of this promise, reading it in the light of Christ is not prima facie abusive of the significance of the text. What gets us into problems is, once we see that a certain text may point forward to Christ, or that Christ may fill full the significance of a given text (and the emphasis is very important), then we assume that Christ is what the authors/editors/compilers of the text in question had in mind first, middle, and last.

Such an assertion is impossible, and indeed is the ultimate root not only of ignorance of the Old Testament but perhaps some anti-Semitic sentiment as well. (NOTE: I do not suggest that ALL anti-Semitism comes from hasty Christologizing of the Old Testament; such a suggestion would suffer from several logical fallacies: ad hominem, post hoc ergo propter hoc, equivocation, and probably many others). There is simply NO WAY that Isaiah of Jerusalem had Jesus in the manger in mind when he gave the promise to King Ahaz that is now enshrined in Isaiah 7:14 and Christmas cantatas from here to eternity. But, that does not mean that Matthew was mistaken or untoward in suggesting that Jesus' coming was like the baby promised so long ago: he will be called Immanuel, for he will save his people from their sins.

In one of my classes this week (the last week of the semester), I believe Old Testament Theology, we were discussing this very point, or at least a similar one. It is one of my maxims that the NT can say it fulfilled the OT, but that in no way exhausts the signficance of the OT. This is a very important point, but it should also not imprison us the other way either. There is nothing to say that there could not be more events to which the prophecies of the OT could be reasonably applied (what the NT means by "fulfillment"). Thus, in the present economic crisis, the word of Jeremiah could be that a new day is coming, in which Yahweh will enter into a new covenant with his people, even though they broke the old one through casual misuse of their financial futures to have the latest gadget or maintain their profit margin on the backs of the poor. This is a word that can be spoken to us. And it is one to which we should listen.

The significance of Psalm 51 and its penitential wailing for the season of Lent should be easy to see, so I'll pass it by without comment. Psalm 119, however, seems to strike a similar chord to Jeremiah 31. In inquiring after how young people can keep their ways pure, this Psalm in some way hits on the theme that the young people do, indeed, have an opportunity to live better than their parents. In the old style capitalist mindset, "young people living better than their parents" meant that they were more wealthy, more secure, more gadgets, more cars, bigger houses, more this, bigger that, more the other thing. And we sacrificed our futures to get it, so now those chickens have come home to roost. The vision of Psalm 119, however, seems to be different--young people living better than their parents is not getting more and keeping more and having more and wanting more--but keeping fast to the law of God, which throughout the OT always has a concern for building up treasure where moth and rust do not destroy, to borrow a NT phrase.

The Hebrews and John passages speak to a similar theme. The sermon of Hebrews suggests that Jesus has brought about a new way of living, by being designated as high priest forever, according to the order of Melchizedek. I haven't any idea what this is supposed to mean, other than to dive into the etymology of Melchizedek and say it means "the king of righteousness." And the lyrical statements of Jesus in John 12, namely that the king of righteousness must die in order to produce life in his disciples is very poignant in this time of economic struggle. Something in our world is dying, or was already dead but we didn't notice the smell of the rotting corpse until just a few months ago. And although the death of Jesus was ultimately a happy thing in that it brought about the victory over sin and death, it was still a very painful thing for him and for those who followed him and witnessed it. And ran away. Would that we not run away in the sight of the death of the old way of doing things in our world, but instead construct a brighter future, entering into a new covenant with God. Amen.

The Fourth Sunday in Lent: Once Bitten, Twice Shy

Numbers 21:4-9; Psalm 107:1-3, 17-22; Ephesians 2:1-10; John 3:14-21

This is yet another of those times when the connection between the various lectionary texts is rather easy to make. The Numbers and John passages make reference to the same event: Yahweh sending poisonous snakes to attack rebellious Israelites, then Moses setting up an image of a snake that people would just look toward and be healed. This is now enshrined in the hymn, "Look and Live:

"Look and live, my brother live!
Look to Jesus now and live!
'Tis recorded in his word, hallelujah!
It is only that you look and live!

Later on, this snake image that Moses is to have set up in the wilderness--and never mind the Second Commandment implications--was removed as part of King Hezekiah's reform efforts. But Jesus uses the image--or John's Jesus uses the image, or John suggests that Jesus might have used the image, or the Johannine community had the theological framework in which Jesus might or might not have used such an image (I'm gonna bang my head against the wall)--as an analogy to what is going to happen to himself soon enough. He is the ultimate thing to be lifted up at God's command for the salvation of humanity.

The Psalms and Ephesians texts also seem to move in the same circles. This is not at all to suggest--as if anyone would think that I would suggest such a thing--that whoever wrote the Ephesians passage had the Psalm text in mind, but it is interesting when things written from a vastly different perspective and several thousands of years apart hit on the same theme independently. Both talk about having moved out of a previous sinful existence and having gone on to a new way. Even though we were "rich" in trespasses, God was richer in mercy and poured out that mercy upon us.

You know what? I don't think there's anything more to be said about that. Amen.

A Paper of Brilliance

Last night I read a really great student paper. Like usual, it needs a fair amount of tweaking to make it spectacular, but it employed a creative strategy that flooded light into the drudgery of grading.

First, a note on "drudgery of grading:" I would much rather check the fourteen zillion papers I have in the file folder over here to my left and in various folders on the harddrive than be withering to death in a bank window, but that doesn't mean that grading is not often boring work.

Second, I will not reveal any details of the paper: the author, the course, the creative strategy that got me so happy. The student will know the results soon enough, and it is up to the student (even avoiding gendered pronouns here) if the student wants to do anything further with the paper. I offered the student assistance in shaping the paper up for publication, but I am leaving the decision up to the student as to what the student wants to do with it.

Reading this paper energized me for the reading of the rest of the slush pile. And for that I am thankful.

The Third Sunday in Lent: Halfway through a Dark Wood

I didn't post a Christian year reflection last week, principally because I spent the Second Sunday in Lent and the Monday following in airplanes and airports making my way back from Nashville to Manila. Along the way I lost about 12 hours in an instant as my plane to Tokyo crossed the International Date Line. I suppose this was fair since I had been given the opportunity to live February 28 twice. But I digress.

Exodus 20:1-17; Psalm 19; 1 Corinthians 1:18-25; John 2:13-22

The Sundays in Lent "don't count." That is, the 40 days of Lent are meant as a kind of sorrowful preparation for the deep anguish of Holy Week and the amazing triumph of Easter. But Sunday is the weekly celebration of the Resurrection of Jesus. This weekly remembrance, weekly reliving (what the earliest Christians called anamnesis) of God's ultimate victory over sin's ultimate weapon, trumps everything else that might go on on a particular day. So when the day of a Saint or some other feast happens to fall on a Sunday, it is usually transferred to the following Monday in order to compensate. In a sense, then, all of Lent's somberness is transferred to the weekdays, in order to compensate for the fact that we cannot fast while the bridegroom is with us (Mk 2:19); and when is the bridegroom with us if not when the community of faith gathers together to celebrate the Resurrection?

All of that was said to say this: we are almost halfway through the dark wood of Lent. Yesterday, Saturday, was the 16th day of Lent. We will actually pass the halfway point next Thursday, the 20th day. But as we look forward throughout this entire season to the ultimate victory over the ultimate problem humans and the world face, we can also look forward to the halfway mark, because it will have been in our grasp and gone back out of it by the time we get to the next day that doesn't count for Lent because it counts for so much more. The following is the text of a sermon I once had prepared to preach at a Lenten service. As I recall, something got in the way and i was unable to deliver it, but the sentiment is still powerful. NOTE: The sermon makes reference to Isaiah 49:8-15, which is the Old Testament lesson for the Wednesday after the Fourth Sunday in Lent in Year C.

In J. R. R. Tolkien’s novel The Hobbit, the party going off to confront the Dragon has eventually to go through a dark forest called Mirkwood. A guide tells them that

“Your way through Mirkwood is dark, dangerous, and difficult.” By and by, they come to the edge of the forest, only then to discover that the wizard Gandalf is not to accompany them through the dark wood.

They despair at this news, but Gandalf says, “We may meet again before it is all over, and then of course we may not. That depends on your luck and on your courage and sense.” After a few minutes more of conversation, Gandalf rides away, and the party hears his voice from afar: “Good-bye! Be good, take care of yourselves—and DON’T LEAVE THE PATH!”

The unlikely hero, Bilbo Baggins, wanted to know if there was some other way to get where they were going without having to go through the dark wood. He is told, no, this is not possible, because they would have to go many, many miles out of the way, and even then they would not have a journey free from peril. And so they proceed together into the dark wood, on to the adventures and the dangers that await them.

We’ve been going through a dark wood, after a fashion, for just under three weeks now. It is a dark, dangerous and difficult time. Yesterday was the sixteenth day in Lent, not counting Sundays, so we’re short of halfway through the dark wood. Things are about to turn in our favor, but they haven't quite yet. Sometimes I feel like Bilbo Baggins, wondering if there is any way to get to the goal of our journey without having to go through the dark wood of Lent. But there really isn’t another way, and in any case it’s not a very safe road. The world we live in is not a very safe one, not a very happy one, and in the end we all will face the same fate. And we all must stay on the path. For if we get off the path, then we will be lost.

This Old Testament Lesson is the Word of the Lord for people who are halfway through a dark wood. The Second Isaiah, as it is called, is written to a group of people who are seeing things about to turn in their favor, but they haven’t quite yet. The Babylonian Empire was in decline, and the people from whom the Empire had taken their land could not have been happier. The prophet, seeing the events unfolding on the stage of world politics, testified that the God of Judah was in control of all world history, so that great nations and kingdoms would rise and fall at God’s command. Even if the nations and kingdoms thought that it was by their own might that they had the success they enjoyed, the prophet has a much different view. In this way, the people of God could rejoice in God’s faithfulness and could resist the power of the colonizers. At the beginning of the Exile, they were understandably sad, they were despairing, because their sinfulness had brought them to the edge of a dark wood, and they felt that God had abandoned them. It was a dark, dangerous and difficult time. Really, God hadn’t abandoned them, but instead forced them to go through this experience because he wanted to reestablish a relationship with them. This relationship could not be reestablished until they had gone through the dark wood of having their lives uprooted and their inheritance taken away. When they no longer could depend on the promises of old, when they had to rely on their luck and their courage, they had gotten to the point where they could journey back toward wholeness. While they might have wished that things could have been restored, and they could have gotten on in their journey as the people of God without having to go through the dark wood of Exile, really there was no other way. They had to stay on the path.

The Persian Empire, maneuvering to take control of the ancient near East at the time Second Isaiah was written, you see, had a much different way of dealing with captive and subjugated peoples than did their predecessors. The Babylonians moved their subjects away from their homelands in order to sever the ties between people and land, so as to keep rebellion down to a minimum—because, they thought, people will always fight harder to defend their own turf. The Persians, on the other hand, sought to create loyalty by moving subjugated peoples back to their homelands, and Judah (now called Yehud, but that’s another matter) was no exception. The prophet and the people to whom he preached expected this to happen not too far into the future, but it hadn’t happened yet. They were halfway through the dark wood, but only halfway. It was a dark, dangerous and difficult time. If they only stayed on the path, they would come through the Exile, be allowed to return to their land, and once again enjoy the benefits of a relationship with God.

And so we, too, are called to go through the dark wood, the dark wood of Lent. We know the end of the story. We know that Bilbo Baggins is ultimately successful in defeating the Dragon, we know that the people of Yehud did come back to their land, we know that Easter is just a few short weeks away. But we are still only halfway through the dark wood.

We might wish there were another way to get through to the goal of our journey, triumphant Easter Sunday and the death of death. But there is no other way. Even in the dark, dangerous and difficult time of Lent, things will begin to turn. In a couple of weeks we will again hear Jesus’ prayer in the Garden, wondering if it were possible to get to the end of his journey without going through the dark wood, which in his case was the dark wood of the Cross. Things are about to turn in our favor, and we are about to see the goodness of God once again in our lives. That is, we may meet with God again, depending not so much on our luck as on our courage and sense and faithfulness.

We will meet with God again. If only we stay on the path. Amen.

Reading List--February 2009

1. Alexander Heidel, The Babylonian Genesis (42 of 153 pages)
2. William H. Willimon, Word, Water, Wine and Bread: How Worship Has Changed over the Years
3. H. Grady Davis, Design for Preaching
4. Ernst Troeltsch, Protestantism and Progress: The Significance of Protestantism for the Rise of the Modern World
5. Philip R. Davies and John Rogerson, The Old Testament World (2nd ed.; 129 of 245 pages)

Maybe someday I'll add comments about these books, but I doubt it.

First Sunday in Lent: The Light is Fading Fast

Genesis 9:8-17; Psalm 25:1-10;1 Peter 3:18-22; Mark 1:9-15

The light is fading fast. I really do not like the Season of Lent. I understand why it is there: to prepare for Holy Week and Easter through a season of penitence. But even though I am generally a very introspective person by nature, I do not like the window that Lent not only throws open on my soul but forces me to look into. I don't want to see that, generally. White-washed tomb and all that. I think it is very interesting that the Old Testament lesson is the reestablishment of the covenant between God and the world after the flood. This is sort of a "this is how the world is" moment, as opposed to the "this is how the world used to be" moment of the history leading up to the flood. In the book of Genesis there is one more story in the "this is how the world used to be" sort of moment: the tower of Babel with its common language and common ambition for humanity, neither of which were the case either at the time of the authors nor at the present time.

The new covenant between God and the world established after the flood includes the provision that God will never again destroy the world by water. This is perhaps a reflection of the ancient motif from other flood stories that the gods became disturbed at their own destructive potential, but I'll leave that point aside for now. After Noah makes his sacrifice, God's wrath is appeased, and the relationship is reestablished. That is often how it works, even if it is present fashion to want to downplay notions of God's wrath in favor of God's mercy and care for creation. Especially coming off my recent experience at the environmental responsibility conference, I would tend in this direction as well. God does in fact care for creation, even if God was willing to destroy creation through water because of the sinfulness of humanity. That in itself says something.

But our texts also include Psalm 25, one of the great hymns of trusting in God in the face of many enemies. While this was not the case for Noah, since he and his family were the only humans and so there were not any enemies, soon enough sin and judgment entered back into the world. But for the singer of Psalm 25, trust is cast upon God in the hopes that God will honor that trust and not put the worshiper to shame. The Psalmist also calls God to remember the promises that were given before. Could these promises that God is called to remember include the promise not to destroy the earth by water again? It is certainly possible, for this is indeed a promise of God.

The passage from 1 Peter indicates something similar, specifically from a Christian standpoint. The judgment has come, just like it did with Noah. The judgment that should have been laid on humanity was instead laid upon Jesus. Nevermind the substitutionary atonement potential in this statement; the point is rather that God has hung his war bow up in the sky. God does not desire that anyone should perish, but that all should come to repentance. That is the essence of the Gospel. That is what it really means when Jesus was baptized, and when the Spirit of God descended upon him with God's judgment that he was the beloved. Even the beloved was sacrificed so that there could be redemption. And even the beloved world was sacrificed so that there could be a renewed relationship between God, humanity, and creation. We pray only that God will not remember our previous sins against us, and the ultimate promise of the Gospel is that God forgets. We are now fully into the swing of the dark wood of Lent. And the light from the meadow now has failed. In spite of the wonderful potential that inheres in the willingness of God to forgive even after his punishment and judgment are meted out, still we have to go through the punishment, through the scourging. And even if we do not like what we see when we are forced to look into the darkness of our souls by the window thrown open by Lent, we stay on the path, praying that God will remember us even as he forgets out sin. Amen.

Leaving on a Jet Plane

Preparing to fly to the States tomorrow for the Wesleyan Theological Society annual meeting. I'm also speaking at a couple of churches while I'm in the States, and I'm a good bit nervous about that. I've checked in for the flight to Seattle, but I need some assistance doing so for the flight to Nashville, since check in will not become available until 4 AM tomorrow Manila time, at which point I will already be in the car on the way to the airport. So I asked my brother to take care of it for me, since the time for him will be 2 PM; much more manageable.

Anyway, I never do realize how much there is to do to get ready for a flight. Even though I'm only going to be gone nine days, there is a significant amount of things to be taken care of. Certainly not the least of these is printing out student papers that are turned in today in order that I can grade them on the planes. I do not know how much I will actually get done, but I have lofty ambitions at any rate. I also have to finish typing up manuscript/notes for my deputation services, but that shouldn't take a huge amount of time either. I'm already about half finished. All of this means I probably should quit blogging and get back at it. :-)

Ash Wednesday: The Light from the Meadow Hasn't Failed Yet

Joel 2:1-2, 12-17 OR Isaiah 58:1-12; Psalm 51:1-17; 2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10; Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21

Naturally, all of the texts chosen for reading today deal with human sinfulness and the consciousness of it. That is the point of Ash Wednesday, beginning the journey into the long, dark wood of Lent. I will use this metaphor throughout these Lenten reflections: journeying through a dark wood. Lent is always a particularly disturbing time for me. I struggle with the "Lenten fast" every year, trying to determine something to "give up for Lent." For the longest time, I resisted this Christian practice. I saw it as trite, a pathetic attempt to identify with the suffering of Christ for just forty days (not counting Sundays), especially in the cases of people who gave up chocolate or sweets or something that they enjoyed, only to pick it up again after Easter. But then I learned the further dimension of Lent: the point of the giving up is not to give something up for a little bit, but to use the time or moeny you would have spent in acquiring that something or doing that something instead in the furtherance of some spiritual, charitable, or otherwise lofty purpose. Once I realized that, I felt a lot more at ease with the spiritual practice of giving something up for Lent. So I'm setting aside the money I would spend on my sodas at lunch for a special offering on Easter Sunday. I have not yet determined the direction this ought to go in, but that's something I can think about later.

A warning is also sounded in the Gospel lesson about making a public display of the Lenten fast. "But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your alms may be done in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you" (Matt 6:3-4). This is part of a lengthly list of warnings against public piety, which has always resonated with me in particular. Even when I am speaking at a church or otherwise in a prominent position, I do not like really to be in front of people practicing religion. I do not think religion is a fully private matter, and indeed that that sort of thinking has opened up Protestant Christianity in particular to all sorts of abuses and misunderstandings. But there is defintely something to be said about not wearing one's religion on the sleeve.

But we're just at the beginning of the path through the dark wood. The light from the meadow of Epiphany hasn't quite dimmed yet. More properly, the light from Transfiguration Mountain hasn't quite faded away yet. At the same time, we are drawn inexorably on the path of Lent, the path of suffering that ultimately leads to the ultimate horror of "Good" Friday. So there is a pall of gloom cast over this season. That, beyond all else, is why the Lenten fast should not be treated as a flippant sort of thing. It matters. It is a serious thing. It is a serious call for devotion. It is a serious call for devotion to the Lord who did not go up into glory without first suffering pain. And that is what Lent is about. Amen.