I just finished reading a rather in depth article about the authorship of II Peter. It seems that we have been duped, that in fact the apostle Peter did not write that letter. But the most profound truth I gleaned from the article was the realization of how thankful I am that I am pursuing historical theology and not biblical studies.
This statement may sound odd to many of my readers. I can just hear it now: "What could be better than studying the bible?" I certainly agree; unfortunately, the manner in which the majority of biblical scholars pursue study of the text, in my opinion, is not what we might call reading Scripture (there are exceptions, many of them at Asbury). Modern biblical scholars are studying an historical document, at best a dubious one in their minds. They are interested in questions of history - did this really happen in this way? Who really wrote this book? When did he write it? Who did he write it too? Did they really cast lots for Jesus' robe, etc. This is an entirely different process than what happens with the reading of Scripture in church, the reading to see God. And this is the only kind of reading in which I am interested.
I stand with the Fathers and the great majority of the church tradition when I say that the purpose of reading Scripture is to be formed into the kind of people God created us to be, Christlike, or if you like the slightly more shocking language, perfect (my apologies to Martin Luther). At the end of the day, I don't believe it much matters whether the apostle Peter truly did write II Peter or whether one of his disciples writing in his name wrote it - what matters is that the church recognized that in this document is contained the authentic message of Christ and it is therefore useful in making us perfect.
Now the first thing that a biblical scholar is likely to say to me is: "Don't you care if all this really happened?" Of course I care! As Paul said, "if Christ didn't truly raise from the dead, let us drink and be merry for tomorrow we die." Or in modern Milwaukee terms, "hand me a PBR because I ain't studying Greek no more!" I believe that these things really happened because of the coherency of the Scriptures and their power to do what they were written to do, as witnessed in the lives of the saints and in my own experiences. But despite Lee Strobel's best intentions, I do not think that we will ever be able to prove these things beyond a shadow of a doubt anymore than we can prove that the Battle of Bull Run was fought twice. Therefore, it seems to me that the historical questions of authorship and setting and the like are not very helpful in forming me into a Christlike person. It is the story of redemption, told ultimately by the Spirit, which matters most.
Thus, I pursue historical theology because I believe that the story of the church is the ongoing story of redemption begun in Scripture. Here we see Scripture lived out by the saints. Here we see Scripture given meaning in community. Here we see mistakes that were made that we might not relive. And here we see the redemption of those mistakes in manners that only Christ can accomplish. In a way, studying historical theology is studying Scripture - but Scripture as it was meant to be studied, Scripture performed in the lives of the people of God.
For 1800 years it was believed that the apostle Peter wrote II Peter. According to the article I just read, 1800 years of Christians got that one wrong. But guess what? The Scriptures still produced an Augustine and a Perpetua. They still produced a Francis and a Teresa. They still produced a Merton and a Therese. And these are all the proofs I need.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Friday, January 26, 2007
"Silent Before Its Shearers"
One of the most damaging, if not the most damaging, bodies to associate themselves with the Church in our time is the Westboro Baptist Church of Topeka, Kansas. This church is better known for its, so called, minister Fred Phelps. Phelps has made it his personal agenda to spread the message that God hates homosexuals, though he uses a much more derogatory term. He spreads this message through his website and through organizing pickets against, not only churches who are "pro-homosexual," whatever that means, but against any church who does not preach a message of hate. His website claims, among other things, that "God loves everyone" is the biggest lie ever perpetrated, and he picks and chooses verses from the Bible to support his message. His picketers carry signs with abusive and often graphic hate slangs. Besides the abuse of people who have been created in the image of God, the shame of his work is that, because he speaks the loudest, much of the world sees him as representing, not only the Baptist Church, but the Catholic - meaning universal - Church throughout the ages and throughout the world. Yet as far as I can see, there is no understanding in his message of the truth of the incarnation and the God revealed therein.
But how does one reason or argue with these people? If you quote them a Bible verse, they will come back with three. If you show them the witness of God's love throughout the great tradition of Christian saints, they will tell you the saints got it wrong. Often these pickets are the occasions of turmoil, as the verbal taunts from the picketers insite anger in those attending the churches and have resulted in some nasty scenes.
Last fall, Phelps' people traveled to Des Moines, Iowa to picket Des Moines Valley High School for putting on a play about Matthew Shepherd. While they were there, the picketed several big area churches, among them Lutheran Church of Hope, which happens to be the church of my parents and my brother and sister-in-law. The response of their church, led by their Pastor Mike Housholder, is a witness to a Christlike and Christ filled response.
The church prepared and served breakfast to the picketers!
At about 9:30, a group of twenty people were led out of the church by their Pastor, who was carrying an eight foot cross. Each of the people had a breakfast item in hand, prepared by other members of the church. Then, in the face of merciless taunting and threats, including: "God is your enemy!" and "Your pastor is lying to you!", this group of saints set up tables and laid out a homecooked breakfast for the picketers. The servers were instructed that, despite what they wished, they were not to say anything to the picketers.
You might ask yourself, as I did at first, why the silence? Why not engage these people and try to talk some sense into them? Why not respond to their message of hate with a message of love? But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that to serve in silence was the only true Christlike response. If one were to engage the picketers, despite the best of intentions, it would likely result in an argument, which would degenerate into something unproductive. But to serve in silence is shocking. To take the abuse and the insults without rising up is something different, something other worldly.
My brother was one of these twenty people, and he told me that the looks on the faces of the picketers was one of "surprise" and "confusion." Their jeers lessoned when they realized that they were not going to get a response. He describes the occasion as one of his "spiritual mountaintop experiences." Of course, no one except a Christian can describe an experience of endless verbal abuse as "mountaintop." But to a Christian, the experience of enduring abuse is wonderful because it is a means of being conformed to Christ.
"He was oppressed and He was afflicted, yet He did not open His mouth; like a lamb that is led to slaughter, and like a sheep that is silent before its shearers, so He did not open His mouth." -Isaiah 53:7
The suffering of Christ was redemptive because it took away the sins, not only of the world, but of the very ones who nailed him to that cross. And I believe that the suffering of those servers was redemptive in the sense that it might lead some of those picketers to see that they have misunderstood God's revelation. At the very least, they witnessed to the true God of Scripture, a God of love, and in that way gave hope to us all.
But how does one reason or argue with these people? If you quote them a Bible verse, they will come back with three. If you show them the witness of God's love throughout the great tradition of Christian saints, they will tell you the saints got it wrong. Often these pickets are the occasions of turmoil, as the verbal taunts from the picketers insite anger in those attending the churches and have resulted in some nasty scenes.
Last fall, Phelps' people traveled to Des Moines, Iowa to picket Des Moines Valley High School for putting on a play about Matthew Shepherd. While they were there, the picketed several big area churches, among them Lutheran Church of Hope, which happens to be the church of my parents and my brother and sister-in-law. The response of their church, led by their Pastor Mike Housholder, is a witness to a Christlike and Christ filled response.
The church prepared and served breakfast to the picketers!
At about 9:30, a group of twenty people were led out of the church by their Pastor, who was carrying an eight foot cross. Each of the people had a breakfast item in hand, prepared by other members of the church. Then, in the face of merciless taunting and threats, including: "God is your enemy!" and "Your pastor is lying to you!", this group of saints set up tables and laid out a homecooked breakfast for the picketers. The servers were instructed that, despite what they wished, they were not to say anything to the picketers.
You might ask yourself, as I did at first, why the silence? Why not engage these people and try to talk some sense into them? Why not respond to their message of hate with a message of love? But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that to serve in silence was the only true Christlike response. If one were to engage the picketers, despite the best of intentions, it would likely result in an argument, which would degenerate into something unproductive. But to serve in silence is shocking. To take the abuse and the insults without rising up is something different, something other worldly.
My brother was one of these twenty people, and he told me that the looks on the faces of the picketers was one of "surprise" and "confusion." Their jeers lessoned when they realized that they were not going to get a response. He describes the occasion as one of his "spiritual mountaintop experiences." Of course, no one except a Christian can describe an experience of endless verbal abuse as "mountaintop." But to a Christian, the experience of enduring abuse is wonderful because it is a means of being conformed to Christ.
"He was oppressed and He was afflicted, yet He did not open His mouth; like a lamb that is led to slaughter, and like a sheep that is silent before its shearers, so He did not open His mouth." -Isaiah 53:7
The suffering of Christ was redemptive because it took away the sins, not only of the world, but of the very ones who nailed him to that cross. And I believe that the suffering of those servers was redemptive in the sense that it might lead some of those picketers to see that they have misunderstood God's revelation. At the very least, they witnessed to the true God of Scripture, a God of love, and in that way gave hope to us all.
Sunday, January 21, 2007
A Cross in the Sole
At our fellowship time after church this morning, I sat down next to an elderly man named Tom and we struck up a conversation. He told me that his wife Barbara had recently been diagnosed with a brain tumor. I could tell the man wanted to talk about it so I asked him, and the story he preceded to tell was a beautiful reminder to me that our Lord cares for us like a Father.
He told me that on the first day of Barbara's chemotherapy treatment, he distinctly remembers that his right foot began to bother him, something like the feeling of a small rock in his shoe, but for whatever reason, he did not check it out. He spent the morning in the waiting room in prayer and encountered two different people, both of whom offered to pray for him. He interpreted these encounters sacramentally, that is he felt the Lord ministering to him through these strangers.
When he and his wife returned home after her treatment, he sat down to remove his shoes. Only then did he discover the culprit of the pain in his right foot. There, sticking in the sole of his shoe, was a small, gold pin in the shape of a cross, with three words etched in it: "He is risen." Facing the potential death of his wife, these words of the Gospel are the very reminder he needed - for those in Christ, death is not the final word. Eternal life awaits. Tom took the scuffed up pin out of his shoe and placed it on his shirt over his heart, where it has remained ever since.
If you think of it, please pray for a man named Tom and his wife Barbara. Pray that they will continue to experience the closeness and care of our Father.
He told me that on the first day of Barbara's chemotherapy treatment, he distinctly remembers that his right foot began to bother him, something like the feeling of a small rock in his shoe, but for whatever reason, he did not check it out. He spent the morning in the waiting room in prayer and encountered two different people, both of whom offered to pray for him. He interpreted these encounters sacramentally, that is he felt the Lord ministering to him through these strangers.
When he and his wife returned home after her treatment, he sat down to remove his shoes. Only then did he discover the culprit of the pain in his right foot. There, sticking in the sole of his shoe, was a small, gold pin in the shape of a cross, with three words etched in it: "He is risen." Facing the potential death of his wife, these words of the Gospel are the very reminder he needed - for those in Christ, death is not the final word. Eternal life awaits. Tom took the scuffed up pin out of his shoe and placed it on his shirt over his heart, where it has remained ever since.
If you think of it, please pray for a man named Tom and his wife Barbara. Pray that they will continue to experience the closeness and care of our Father.
Friday, January 19, 2007
Merton's Humility
This quotation, from a man who has become one of my heroes, sums up the way that I feel right now:
"But oh! How far I have to go before I find You in Whom I have already arrived!"
-Thomas Merton, The Seven Storey Mountain
"But oh! How far I have to go before I find You in Whom I have already arrived!"
-Thomas Merton, The Seven Storey Mountain
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
On First Days and Winter Nights
Second semester is upon us my friends, well, upon me anyway. Fairly shortly I expect it to start applying its weight. Additionally, Milwaukee winter has finally shown up and it appears to be making up for lost time. Average high this week has been 23 while the average low is somewhere around 8. Our old fashioned radiators are working overtime to keep our apartment at some level of comfort, which results in loud hissing and clanking noises. The other night, when my wife was away at work and I was sleeping alone, I awoke in the middle of the night to the ominous sounds of breathing at the foot of my bed. Faced with the prospect that someone was in my room, I literally felt my body go cold, which is quite a fete considering how cold I was already. I had the same feeling today in my first class - Advanced Hellenistic Greek - when the prof handed out a page from some obscure Greek document, printed in all capital letters, which looked something like this:
ΑΤΕΝΙΣΑΣ ΔΕ Ο ΠΑΥΛΟΣ ΤΩ ΣΥΝΕΔΡΙΩ ΕΙΠΕΝ
and told us that we were going to site read: "Mr. Lashier, would you like to start?" Have I mentioned that I have not studied Greek in over two years and that I never learned the capital letters of Greek in the first place? I quickly shot the girl sitting next to me a look that was somewhere in between hatred and panic. After all, she was the one who convinced me to take the class, assuring me that we wouldn't really get into the material for two weeks (she had the same prof last semester), which would allow me plenty of time to retrieve the Greek that I'm sure is somewhere in the cobwebs of my brain. No such luck. But in the words of Judy Garland, I muddled through somehow, or at least I have convinced myself I did, in the same way that I have convinced myself that it was the radiator emitting the wretched hissing sounds the other night and not, in fact, a monster waiting to pounce. Perhaps both are monsters and I'm living on borrowed time, as they say (whoever 'they' are).
In addition to the aforementioned classes, I am also taking French and Apostolic Fathers, which will be the study of the origins of Christianity, what the earliest theologies were like based on the writings directly preceding and following the New Testament. Pardon my French, but I do think I will be a little les miserables than I was last semester. At the start of the second semester, I do not have the overwhelmingly anxious feelings I had at the start of last. I do not sweat profusely at the beginning of each class (the weather is helping with that). I do not have the persistent feeling that I have fooled everyone and that any moment now, they all are going to realize that in fact I do not belong here. This is progress.
I am excited at the prospect of being more wholistic this semester. What I mean by this is a better incorporation of my spiritual life into my studies. Last semester, I felt that the two were very disjointed, and often the intellectual growth would thrive but the spiritual life would be stagnant. This should not be. In all my learning, I don't want to miss God. Please pray for me to that end.
ΑΤΕΝΙΣΑΣ ΔΕ Ο ΠΑΥΛΟΣ ΤΩ ΣΥΝΕΔΡΙΩ ΕΙΠΕΝ
and told us that we were going to site read: "Mr. Lashier, would you like to start?" Have I mentioned that I have not studied Greek in over two years and that I never learned the capital letters of Greek in the first place? I quickly shot the girl sitting next to me a look that was somewhere in between hatred and panic. After all, she was the one who convinced me to take the class, assuring me that we wouldn't really get into the material for two weeks (she had the same prof last semester), which would allow me plenty of time to retrieve the Greek that I'm sure is somewhere in the cobwebs of my brain. No such luck. But in the words of Judy Garland, I muddled through somehow, or at least I have convinced myself I did, in the same way that I have convinced myself that it was the radiator emitting the wretched hissing sounds the other night and not, in fact, a monster waiting to pounce. Perhaps both are monsters and I'm living on borrowed time, as they say (whoever 'they' are).
In addition to the aforementioned classes, I am also taking French and Apostolic Fathers, which will be the study of the origins of Christianity, what the earliest theologies were like based on the writings directly preceding and following the New Testament. Pardon my French, but I do think I will be a little les miserables than I was last semester. At the start of the second semester, I do not have the overwhelmingly anxious feelings I had at the start of last. I do not sweat profusely at the beginning of each class (the weather is helping with that). I do not have the persistent feeling that I have fooled everyone and that any moment now, they all are going to realize that in fact I do not belong here. This is progress.
I am excited at the prospect of being more wholistic this semester. What I mean by this is a better incorporation of my spiritual life into my studies. Last semester, I felt that the two were very disjointed, and often the intellectual growth would thrive but the spiritual life would be stagnant. This should not be. In all my learning, I don't want to miss God. Please pray for me to that end.
Saturday, January 13, 2007
Passing through the Graveyard
On Friday, I spent the hours between 10:00 and 4:00 at Holy Hill Monastery, a Discalced Carmelite monastery, a holy site just a half hour outside of Milwaukee. The Carmelite order started in, I believe, the 12th century when a group of hermits gathered on Mt. Carmel, the famous mountain of 1 Kings where Yahweh holds back the rain through the prophet Elijah to show the prophets of Baal that he has no power. Soon, however, the Carmelites were scattered.
The order was revived in the fifteenth century by St. Teresa of Avila, who, among other things, insisted that those of the order go barefoot or wear sandals in order to identify with the poor. From this point on, they were known as the Discalced (barefoot) Carmelites. Another well known figure of the order was Saint John of the Cross, the mystic who was famous for his book The Dark Night of the Soul. The order emphasizes personal prayer and communion with God, as the monks spend at least two hours a day in silent, individual prayer. This prayer is often modeled after St. Teresa, who liked to imagine that she was in the Garden of Gethsemanie with her suffering Lord as she prayed.
As we drove to the monastery, I was surprised to notice that we passed through an old graveyard, which occurred to me as an odd place for one - we were driving on a busy highway after all. But sure enough, lining both sides of the highway were hundreds of small white gravestones, such that we literally drove directly through. I did not give it much of a thought at the time.
Later, as I was kneeling at my pew in the beautiful sanctuary praying and looking up at Christ on the cross, the Christ who died for me, I was reminded of the graveyard that we passed through. I began to name all of the parts of me that needed to die, that needed to be uprooted, that needed to be left at that altar. I realized that the passing through the graveyard was symbolic of what needed to happen at that monastery, and what needs to happen everyday of my life. So often we use benign language to explain Christianity, that all one needs to do is have faith in Christ. But we also fail to realize that having faith in Christ means dying.
"I have been crucified with Christ and it is no longer I who live but Christ that lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God who loved me and gave himself up for me." -Galatians 2:20
When we are placed in the waters of baptism, we die; when we come out of the waters of baptism we are raised to new life, a life which is not our own, but Christ in us. Passing through that graveyard yesterday helped me to remember my baptism, and reminded me that I have some catching up to do.
The order was revived in the fifteenth century by St. Teresa of Avila, who, among other things, insisted that those of the order go barefoot or wear sandals in order to identify with the poor. From this point on, they were known as the Discalced (barefoot) Carmelites. Another well known figure of the order was Saint John of the Cross, the mystic who was famous for his book The Dark Night of the Soul. The order emphasizes personal prayer and communion with God, as the monks spend at least two hours a day in silent, individual prayer. This prayer is often modeled after St. Teresa, who liked to imagine that she was in the Garden of Gethsemanie with her suffering Lord as she prayed.
As we drove to the monastery, I was surprised to notice that we passed through an old graveyard, which occurred to me as an odd place for one - we were driving on a busy highway after all. But sure enough, lining both sides of the highway were hundreds of small white gravestones, such that we literally drove directly through. I did not give it much of a thought at the time.
Later, as I was kneeling at my pew in the beautiful sanctuary praying and looking up at Christ on the cross, the Christ who died for me, I was reminded of the graveyard that we passed through. I began to name all of the parts of me that needed to die, that needed to be uprooted, that needed to be left at that altar. I realized that the passing through the graveyard was symbolic of what needed to happen at that monastery, and what needs to happen everyday of my life. So often we use benign language to explain Christianity, that all one needs to do is have faith in Christ. But we also fail to realize that having faith in Christ means dying.
"I have been crucified with Christ and it is no longer I who live but Christ that lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God who loved me and gave himself up for me." -Galatians 2:20
When we are placed in the waters of baptism, we die; when we come out of the waters of baptism we are raised to new life, a life which is not our own, but Christ in us. Passing through that graveyard yesterday helped me to remember my baptism, and reminded me that I have some catching up to do.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Biography
I did not intend this, but I realized this morning that the last three books I have read for pleasure (including the one I am currently reading) have either been biographies or autobiographies. Last August, I read Mockingbird: A Portrait of Harper Lee by Charles J. Shields (Lee wrote the pulitzer prize winning novel To Kill a Mockingbird). In September, I read The Grand Slam: Bobby Jones, America, and the Story of Golf by Mark Frost (Bobby Jones is widely considered the greatest golfer who ever lived). Currently I am reading The Seven Storey Mountain, which is the autobiography of Thomas Merton, a Trappist monk.
All three were/are wonderful reads, particularly if you are a Harper Lee fan (which I am) or a golf fan (which I am). With all due respect to Harper Lee and Bobby Jones, however, it occurs to me how different Merton's story is than the other two. While Harper Lee spent her life, or at least her early life, obsessed with writing a great novel and Bobby Jones spent his life, or early life, obsessed with becoming the greatest golfer who ever lived, Thomas Merton, from age 23 on, transfixed all of his energies in experiencing God through spiritual exercises and mystical experience. While Lee's and Jones' biographies focus on their stories and ultimately bring glory to them, Merton's is clearly God's story and merely how he fits into it.
A sobering question I have been pondering: if someone were to write my biography at this stage of my life, would it focus on my pursuits at being a writer or a scholar or some other pursuit? Or would it focus on God and my consuming desire to commune with him. Unfortunately I think the former because those pursuits have truly consumed me, while often I have asked God to fit in their somehow.
I long to think and act like Merton. Like him, I do not want to care whether or not I become a writer or scholar (and for those who have played with me, certainly not a golfer). The only thing I wish is to live for is God and to have all other pursuits fall under that communion.
All three were/are wonderful reads, particularly if you are a Harper Lee fan (which I am) or a golf fan (which I am). With all due respect to Harper Lee and Bobby Jones, however, it occurs to me how different Merton's story is than the other two. While Harper Lee spent her life, or at least her early life, obsessed with writing a great novel and Bobby Jones spent his life, or early life, obsessed with becoming the greatest golfer who ever lived, Thomas Merton, from age 23 on, transfixed all of his energies in experiencing God through spiritual exercises and mystical experience. While Lee's and Jones' biographies focus on their stories and ultimately bring glory to them, Merton's is clearly God's story and merely how he fits into it.
A sobering question I have been pondering: if someone were to write my biography at this stage of my life, would it focus on my pursuits at being a writer or a scholar or some other pursuit? Or would it focus on God and my consuming desire to commune with him. Unfortunately I think the former because those pursuits have truly consumed me, while often I have asked God to fit in their somehow.
I long to think and act like Merton. Like him, I do not want to care whether or not I become a writer or scholar (and for those who have played with me, certainly not a golfer). The only thing I wish is to live for is God and to have all other pursuits fall under that communion.
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
A Glimpse of the Church Year
As I have been doing a lot of blogging on the church calendar lately, I thought that it might be helpful to provide a visual aid of the year and the different seasons and celebrations. This picture was sketched by Rev. J.D. Walt, the dean of the chapel at Asbury Theological Seminary. He also writes a blog, which I would highly encourage any of my readers to check out, if you don't already: www.farmstrong.blogspot.com. Thanks for the sketch JD!
Sunday, January 07, 2007
The Need for Epiphany
The more that I study the church calendar, the more I am amazed at the providence at work in its shaping. For the sacred time we celebrate is always structured in such a way to help the church fully experience and understand her story.
Today is the first Sunday after Epiphany, which is the feast celebrating the visitation of the magi. It is a particularly important feast to our brothers and sisters in the Eastern Orthodox church because it is the celebration of the light of Christ dawning on the Gentiles of the East. The word "Epiphany" means awakening.
Early in the theological reflection of the church, the Feast of Epiphany came to be associated with the Transfiguration, the point in the Gospel narrative where the divine light of Christ is revealed to Peter, James and John on Mt. Tabor, not by any alteration of Christ himself, but by the opening of the disciple's eyes to see Christ's true nature. I am unaware of the reasons for this association, but I suspect it has to do with Epiphany's placement in the calendar relative to Lent. For it mirrors the narrative placement of the Transfiguration in relation to Christ's last week.
The Feast of Epiphany is the anticipation of the Feast of the Resurrection. Between the two celebrations, the church moves through the Lenten season, which is a season of mourning. Similarly, the narrative placement of the Transfiguration in the Gospel anticipates the Resurrection, where Jesus will again appear in light. In Matthew and Mark, Jesus and his disciples move fairly quickly from Tabor to Jerusalem, where the cross looms. Neither the narrative structure of the Gospel or the timing of the calendar are coincidental however, for the people of God are in need of a reminder of who Christ truly is in order to get them through the mourning period to Easter. We, like the disciples, are in need of an Epiphany.
It is curious, then, that in Luke the Transfiguration is closer to the beginning of the Gospel; and much occurs between Tabor and Jerusalem. However, Luke is not ignorant of the need for epiphany prior to mourning. For in Luke's Gospel, Jesus' encounter with a blind man takes the narrative place of the Transfiguration:
"As Jesus was approaching Jericho, a blind man was sitting by the road begging . . .Those who led the way were sternly telling him to be quiet; but he kept crying out all the more, 'Son of David, have mercy on me!' And Jesus stopped and commanded that he be brought to Him; and when he came near, He questioned him, 'What do you want me to do for you?' And he said, 'Lord, I want to regain my sight!' And Jesus said to him, 'Receive your sight; your faith has made you well.' Immediately he regained his sight . . ." (Luke 18:35, 39-43).
May our eyes be opened this Epiphany, that we might be sustained through to Easter.
Today is the first Sunday after Epiphany, which is the feast celebrating the visitation of the magi. It is a particularly important feast to our brothers and sisters in the Eastern Orthodox church because it is the celebration of the light of Christ dawning on the Gentiles of the East. The word "Epiphany" means awakening.
Early in the theological reflection of the church, the Feast of Epiphany came to be associated with the Transfiguration, the point in the Gospel narrative where the divine light of Christ is revealed to Peter, James and John on Mt. Tabor, not by any alteration of Christ himself, but by the opening of the disciple's eyes to see Christ's true nature. I am unaware of the reasons for this association, but I suspect it has to do with Epiphany's placement in the calendar relative to Lent. For it mirrors the narrative placement of the Transfiguration in relation to Christ's last week.
The Feast of Epiphany is the anticipation of the Feast of the Resurrection. Between the two celebrations, the church moves through the Lenten season, which is a season of mourning. Similarly, the narrative placement of the Transfiguration in the Gospel anticipates the Resurrection, where Jesus will again appear in light. In Matthew and Mark, Jesus and his disciples move fairly quickly from Tabor to Jerusalem, where the cross looms. Neither the narrative structure of the Gospel or the timing of the calendar are coincidental however, for the people of God are in need of a reminder of who Christ truly is in order to get them through the mourning period to Easter. We, like the disciples, are in need of an Epiphany.
It is curious, then, that in Luke the Transfiguration is closer to the beginning of the Gospel; and much occurs between Tabor and Jerusalem. However, Luke is not ignorant of the need for epiphany prior to mourning. For in Luke's Gospel, Jesus' encounter with a blind man takes the narrative place of the Transfiguration:
"As Jesus was approaching Jericho, a blind man was sitting by the road begging . . .Those who led the way were sternly telling him to be quiet; but he kept crying out all the more, 'Son of David, have mercy on me!' And Jesus stopped and commanded that he be brought to Him; and when he came near, He questioned him, 'What do you want me to do for you?' And he said, 'Lord, I want to regain my sight!' And Jesus said to him, 'Receive your sight; your faith has made you well.' Immediately he regained his sight . . ." (Luke 18:35, 39-43).
May our eyes be opened this Epiphany, that we might be sustained through to Easter.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Wisdom from the Pope
It goes without saying to most who know me and my theological persuasions that I am, shall we say, less than enamoured with the ministry of Joel Osteen. Perhaps in another blog I will delineate the many problems that I have with him. In the current installment, I am reminded of a sermon of his I caught on a late night televised service of his mega church Lakewood. As he preached, I was unclear of whether I was listening to a sermon or to the State of the Union address for it seemed that at every other sentence, the huge auditorium of people would burst forth in applause. With the acknowledgement that I can tend to be a little critical, it did seem to me that he reacted to the applause as any stage actor might.
Perhaps we might learn from the wisdom of Pope Benedict, who wrote somewhere: "Whenever applause enters the liturgy, something has gone horribly awry."
An overstatement? Maybe. But I think his point is valid. For I believe that those who are fond of applause in church must always ask themselves, "For whom am I clapping?"
Perhaps we might learn from the wisdom of Pope Benedict, who wrote somewhere: "Whenever applause enters the liturgy, something has gone horribly awry."
An overstatement? Maybe. But I think his point is valid. For I believe that those who are fond of applause in church must always ask themselves, "For whom am I clapping?"
Monday, January 01, 2007
Journey Friends
As Christians, we often emphasize the truth that through Christ, we are called sons and daughters of God. I think that it is a truly amazing truth, not enough emphasized, that God calls us His friends. And one of the greatest blessings we have as his friends is to have other friends in Christ. In my many travels, I have been blessed with a handful of friends who have each changed me and completed me. Their friendship has been a crucial part of my formation in Christ - and life in Christ would not be as exciting or as fruitful without them. Unfortunately, in the Kingdom of God, we are often together only for a time. The Lord's call leads us to different places, and we go because we know that time together is not as important as spreading the Gospel, that more might enter this communion.
My friend Matthew Eubanks, who will one day be a famous writer (though he has yet to grasp this truth himself) has written a beautiful poem expressing this somewhat paradoxical truth of friends in Christ. I urge you all read it at http://www.tenderhumiliations.blogspot.com/.
My friend Matthew Eubanks, who will one day be a famous writer (though he has yet to grasp this truth himself) has written a beautiful poem expressing this somewhat paradoxical truth of friends in Christ. I urge you all read it at http://www.tenderhumiliations.blogspot.com/.
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