An Answer Remembered

As Christians, we are part of a long tradition of people who are intent on remembering their story, of remembering the points in our history where God has decisively and definitely acted on our behalf. This rich tradition, of course, began with the ancient Israelites who rehearsed their salvation story - the story where the Angel of Death "passed over" the Jewish firstborns killing the Egyptian firstborns, which ultimately led to their exodus from slavery - once a year at the Feast of the Passover. This was actually a law that the Lord God required of them, in order that they not forget the wonderful acts of their God.

Christians continue this tradition with the celebration of the Eucharist, which I would argue, is the central act of the church. Every time we celebrate the Eucharist, we remember the sacrifice of Christ - his broken body and his shed blood. We remember the story and we make it present once again for us. Christ also prescribed such an action when he proclaimed to his disciples: "Do this in remembrance of me."

One of the reasons that God has demanded such constant acts of remembrance is because we are forgetful people. We need to remember because it is so easy for us to forget - when we feel that God has not answered our prayers or that he has not been present to us for awhile, we quickly jump to the conclusion that he has never been there.

I think, therefore, that it is entirely helpful, and entirely biblical for that matter, to work at remembering the times in your life when God has clearly answered prayer. Such an act can increase your faith and inspire you to more prayer, though you may feel that no one is listening. In light of that, I would like to rehearse for you one of the times in my life when God most clearly and most lovingly answered my prayer.

March of 2006, Julie and I were in Kentucky, unsure of our next steps. I had been accepted to Marquette for doctoral work, but we had no provisions for tuition money. My last chance was the John Wesley Fellowship, but for various reasons, that looked very doubtful. I was scheduled to fly to Houston for an interview one Friday. At the same time, Julie was driving to Milwaukee to interview for a position. She left on Thursday morning and I had the evening to myself. With so much at stake, I decided that I had a lot of praying to do.

Around 9:00 in the evening, I headed to Asbury Seminary, about a mile from our house. I wanted to pray in a special place, which for me was Asbury's chapel, Estes Chapel. At 9:00 in the evening, I figured the place would be deserted and I would be alone with the Lord and my prayers. To my dismay however, as I approached Estes, I saw that all lights were blazing and there was some extremely loud, and rather poor, organ music emanating from the place. Disappointed and dejected, I considered turning around and heading home. Instead, I found a little prayer chapel just to the side of Estes, which I always knew was there, but in which I had never spent much time.

With the lights off, I kneeled at the small altar and began praying about all of the things that were heavy on my heart. I prayed for my wife and for her interview, for her calling in ministry and for our marriage. I prayed for my interview and my calling and for the challenges that a PhD program entailed. Finally I began to pray for the means to pay for the tuition. Knowing that the John Wesley Fellowship was unlikely, I simply began praying that the Lord's will be done. It became a refrain in my prayer: "Lord that you would provide the means to pay for this: your will be done." I remember simply repeating that phrase again and again. At one point in the prayer I looked up and caught my breath at the words engraved above the altar where I knelt:

"Thy will be done."

As most of you know, Julie got the job she interviewed for and I was fortunate enough to receive the John Wesley Fellowship, which has helped us so much this year. We often wonder how we could have done this without the Fellowship. However, I do not think that earning the Fellowship was God's answer to my prayer that night in March 2006. I believe that it was rather his words to me: "Thy will be done." Seeing those words were like God's arms around me, assuring me that he was with me in this walk. That he would not leave me. And though there have been times this year when I have forgotten - more times than I care to relate - I know that this truth remains. God is with me. God is with us.

We simply need to remember.

What should a Christian look like?

Throughout the years, Christians have spent a good deal of time and energy concerned with what a Christian should look like. That would be perfectly appropriate if I were talking about the inside, how a Christian should act, think, serve others, and the like. Unfortunately, history has shown us that Christians often seem more concerned with what a Christian looks like physically. Thus it is that we get such horror stories as white European missionaries making all Native American children cut their hair, and the horrendous and preposterous belief that African Americans are the cursed descendants of Ham (Gen 9:22-27) simply because their skin is dark.

This also comes through in many modern portrayals of Jesus. Many drawings of Jesus from the twentieth century portray Jesus as a white European. A more recent picture of Christ is more reminiscent of Michael W. Smith than a Palestinian Jew (my friend Jen always called it the "Brad Pitt Jesus"). I also remember an uproar over a picture of Mary on the cover of Time Magazine a few years ago because she looked "too dark." My friends, these were Jews who lived in the desert! Their skin was likely very dark. Jesus walked around in the desert and slept on the ground. If he wasn't dark from the sun, he was probably dark from the dirt. My guess is that he might look like someone whom many would turn away from if they saw him walking down the street; the same people who would do a double take if such a person walked into their church. The only reason? He doesn't look like us.

Jesus warned against this very thing in a parable: "Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, 'God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.' But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, 'God, be merciful to me, a sinner!' I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted." (Luke 18:10-14)

A slightly more contemporary story also captures the point: A few years ago a popular Christian singer/songwriter came to Asbury College to give a concert. Asbury College and Asbury Seminary both have ethos statements requiring their students to promise that they will not "drink, smoke or chew or run with the girls that do." (This comes from the Holiness tradition out of which the schools stem.) Although it is not the intent of the statements, they are often misinterpreted to be claiming that Christians never smoke and never have a drink and never consort with "those types of people."

It is said that that same week, a strange man was frequently seen around the campus of the seminary. He stood out because he had long hair, dirty clothes and he was always barefoot. He especially stood out when he smoked his cigarettes. Few put it together, however, that this strange man was the Christian artist himself. His name was Rich Mullins, one of the most Christlike figures of the twentieth century.

The Good News is that Christ came into the world to save all people of all cultures of all classes. Therefore, there can be no official "way" that a Christian should physically look. Because any possible way a person can look on this earth is a possible way for a Christian to look. That is the beauty of God's creation and will be the beauty of his kingdom.

Irenaen Wisdom

Irenaeus has, in my mind, the greatest understanding of the incarnation of all of the early Fathers. I am prepared to argue for that. For the time being, I just wanted to give you a snippet of the kind of thing that makes this man's theology imminently beautiful and at the same time practical:

"So He (Jesus) united man with God and wrought a communion of God and man, we being unable to have any participation in incorruptibility if it were not for His coming to us, for incorruptibility whilst being invisible, benefitted us nothing: so He became visible, that we might, in all ways, obtain a participation in incorruptibility." -Irenaeus

That, my friends (with all apologies to Dorothy Parker), is true poetry.

And now for something totally different . . .

Here is a poem from one of my favorite poets. There is no hidden meaning or message - I just kind of like it.

A Very Short Song

"Once, when I was young and true ,
Someone left me sad---
Broke my brittle heart in two;
And that is very bad.

Love is for unlucky folk,
Love is but a curse.
Once there was a heart I broke;
And that, I think, is worse.

-Dorothy Parker

Mein Kampf

Perhaps it is in bad taste to label a post with the infamous title of Hitler's manifesto. However, I find that the title aptly catches the nature of my month of June. The phrase means, simply, "My Struggle." My struggle for the month of June is the German language itself. That's right - it is not enough that we need to know Greek, Latin and French, but now they thrust upon me this most difficult of languages, a language that requires a gutteral spit every third word, a language that sounds best when spoken while pounding a table with a fist. There is nothing mystical about the language, as there was for me with Greek. There is nothing divine or classical about the language, as there was for me with Latin (or what I now refer to as our Lord's language). There is not even anything elegant or beautiful about the language, as there was for me with French. Its just a confusing, angry language where the verbs are, for some unknown reason, split up and most of them come at the end of the sentence! My apologies to German speakers. Ich bin traurig.

To top it all off, we are given only a month to learn enough to pass an efficiency exam. That means an hour and a half of class a day, four days a week, followed by a good five or six hours more of study a night. And even then one feels continuously behind. Mein Gott! Deutsch ist nicht gut! The situation is what my cousin Mark Farrell calls "the firehose experience." In other words, open your mouth wide because the water is coming at you full blast!

Some while back, a famous American writer catalogued his struggles with this peculiar language. Anyone who has tried to learn this language will be able to relate. The following is a great quote from "The Awful German Language" by Mark Twain:

"Surely there is not another language that is so slipshod and systemless, and so slippery and elusive to the grasp. One is washed about in it, hither and thither, in the most helpless way; and when at last he thinks he has captured a rule which offers firm ground to take a rest on amid the general rage and turmoil of the ten parts of speech, he turns over the page and reads, "Let the pupil make careful note of the following exceptions." He runs his eye down and finds that there are more exceptions to the rule than instances of it. So overboard he goes again, to hunt for another Ararat and find another quicksand. Such has been, and continues to be, my experience. Every time I think I have got one of these four confusing "cases" where I am master of it, a seemingly insignificant preposition intrudes itself into my sentence, clothed with an awful and unsuspected power, and crumbles the ground from under me."

Of course, he wrote the thing in German.

Top Ten Experiences

Since we are in the "Top Ten" genre, I thought that I would add one more personal list for your enjoyment, chastisement, what have you. These are the Top Ten Experiences (events, activities, or places) I want to have before I die. (Of course these experiences do not include the obvious ones like graduating, having kids, etc. All of these I want to do, but I think these are assumed.) As always, I welcome any of my readers' "experiences goals" or if you have done something amazing that ought to be on this list, please let me know. I am nothing if not malleable.

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1. Visit the Holy Land.

(Unfortunately this may never be a possibility in my lifetime due to safety precautions. This is unfortunate because I would love to walk those streets, to see the Garden of Gethsemanie, the supposed sights of all of the events of Christ's life. I'm sure that this experience would move me to tears.)

2. Visit Rome.

(Actually I hope to visit all of Italy. However, Rome tops my list for its history. I specifically want to visit St. Peter's Basilica and take the tour down to the original tomb of St. Peter. I would also hope to visit the Coliseum, where many early Christians lost their lives, and the Catacombs where they were buried and where the early Roman Church met.)

3. See a Sunday of the Masters in Augusta, Georgia.

(Actually, I'd settle for any day of the Masters. But my hope would be to do this when Phil Mickelson is still playing. I could give a rip about Tiger.)

4. Watch the annual two act play of To Kill a Mockingbird in the courthouse square of Monroeville, Alabama.

(Monroeville is the hometown of the book's author Harper Lee. She envisioned this square when she wrote the book and waxed eloquently of the sagging courthouse. Since my friend Matthew Eubanks is from the mecca, this might be a possibility sooner than later.)

5. Go to the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, New York with my father and my son.

(I'm a sucker for sentimentality.)

6. Visit Paris

(Back on the traveling train - there is too much history, literary and otherwise, not to see it.

7. Attend a Papal Mass in Vatican City.

(This might go hand in hand with goal number one. Of course I would prefer to experience this while Pope Benedict XVI is still alive because I think he is amazing, but we will see. My friend Christine experienced mass in a small setting of about twenty people when Joseph Ratzinger (Pope Benedict), and apparently he is a wonderful man.)

8. Have a short story or book published.

(The New Yorker has already turned me down. Perhaps I will aim lower next time.)

9. Visit Savannah, Georgia.

(The city that began my love affair with the South. There would be a lot of sweet tea drunk and perhaps a little bourbon.)

10. Watch a football game in Notre Dame stadium.

(Despite popular Catholic belief, this does not equate with #7 on this list, but it is still pretty darn good.)

Top Ten Favorite Books

Per a recent request of one of my readers, I would like to now list the top ten favorite books that I have already read. I have found this an infinitely harder exercise than the previous one because it necessitates picking and choosing between works of literature and theology, which ought to stand on their own merit and not be judged by such an unworthy and fickle reader as myself. I have found that this list has changed over the years due to the change of my interests, rereads, ruminating on the material, etc. As such, I offer this list with the following caveat: it is not written in stone, and there are many other works that I have read quite deserving of the list. However, thinking about it at this particular point in my life, here are my top ten favorite works in no particular order (though the first two are fairly cemented):

1. In Cold Blood - Truman Capote

(Launched a new genre - writing a true event as a story. Beautifully written and spellbounding. Of all the books on this list, I found this one the most difficult to put down.)

2. To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee

(Paints a beautiful picture of the South - and may have begun my love affair with it. Somehow weaves together the two seemingly unrelated stories of carefree childhood summers and racial injustice. It also gives us, in my opinion, one of the great characters of American literature, Atticus Finch. If my wife would let me, I would name my dog Boo Radley.)

(A side caveat, both writers hale from Monroeville, Alabama, the same town from which my great friend Matthew Glen Eubanks hails. I have told people that he will be the third famous writer from that town. A fine biography on Harper Lee, which includes her significant contribution to In Cold Blood is Mockingbird by Charles J. Shields. Though not making my top ten, it is a great read for anyone interested in those two figures.)

3. The Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald

(Paints a picture of 1920s America almost as effectively as Harper Lee does of the South. Though simple enough for a high schooler to appreciate, the layers in this book are thick. Worth a reread if you haven't read it since high school. We never abandon our first love.)

4. Against Heresies - St. Irenaeus

(Written at the end of the second century to combat the rising heresy of Gnosticism, it is rightfully hailed as the first work of systematic theology. Irenaeus shows how the resurrection is God's redemption of creation, instead of its overturning. This book is one of the reasons I fell in love with theology and the Fathers of the church.)

5. The Confessions - St. Augustine

(This is the first, and still the standard, spiritual autobiography. It shows us that even a giant of the church, as Augustine was, still struggles and still needs to find solace in the grace of God.)

6. The Name of the Rose - Umberto Eco

(A modern classic. Absolutely captivating piece of mystery and historical fiction. I recommend reading it with a group of friends in order to discuss it. This is how I read it and I think it made the read much more valuable.)

7. The Great Divorce - C.S. Lewis

(An allegory of heaven and hell; the symbolism is thick and rich. Paints a beautiful picture of God and his hope for humanity.)

8. The Jungle - Upton Sinclair

(Singlehandedly led to meat packing reforms of the early twentieth century. Weaves together historical fact and the struggles of a fictional immigrant family struggling to survive in early America beautifully.)

9. Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil - John Berendt

(An unbelievably fascinating read. A must for anyone who is the lover of quaint characters and the South, particularly Savannah. The town itself is the main character. Solidified the mystique of the South for me.)

10. The Seven Storey Mountain - Thomas Merton

(The late Thomas Merton was a Trappist monk at a monastery about an hour and a half from where I lived in Kentucky. This is the story of his life to the point of his entering the monastery. While Augustine's might have been the first, Merton's in my opinion is the best sample of spiritual autobiography. You will fall in love with the man and, hopefully, his God.)

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As I recently wrote to an anonymous post, I would encourage my readers to post their favorite reads. Sharing our favorites with one another will encourage us to read and spark other ideas of what we have read that we have loved.

Top Ten Books I Want to Read

We recently had some dear friends from seminary stay at our house. One afternoon when we were talking, we decided to list the top ten books we would like to read in our life times. It was a great exercise and I encourage all of you to do it. The following is my current list in no particular order (which I hope to start working on this summer!):

1. Les Miserables - Victor Hugo

2. City of God - St. Augustine

3. War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy

4. Summa Theologiae - St. Thomas Aquinas

5. Moby Dick - Herman Melville

6. Uncle Tom's Cabin - Harriet Beecher Stowe

7. The Institutes - John Calvin

8. The Divine Comedy - Dante

9. The Last of the Mohicans - James Fenimore Cooper

10. Church Dogmatics - Karl Barth

People of the Book

Historically, both Jews and Christians have been known as "People of the Book." The reason for this is that both religions are based, not in a direct experience of God (which was the claim of Paganism and much of today's so-called "New Ages" religions), but in an experience that is mediated through a story preserved for them in a book. Much of the opposing groups' stories are exactly the same. The one God created the heavens and the earth, was rebelled against by sinful humanity, and now pursues a salvific relationship with them (a salvation which finds its paradigmatic episode in the Exodus of the Hebrews from the slavery of Egypt). Of course, the story diverges at just the crucial point (the "climax" in narrative terms). For the Jews are still waiting for their final restoration in a Messiah who has not yet come. The Christians believe that their restoration (and the restoration of creation) has already begun - it began with the coming of Jesus the Messiah (Christ is the Greek term meaning "Messiah").

Because much of their story, and therefore their Scriptures, are the same, it is not surprising that the debates between Jews and Christians in the first few centuries were exegetical in nature. That is, the debate hinged on the correct way to understand and interpret the revelatory story God gave them. (We must remember that, though all of the documents of the New Testament were written in the first century, it took much longer for the church to recognize that God had spoken authoritatively in them. When the early Christians - and the New Testament writers for that matter - speak of their Scriptures, they are speaking only of what we now call the Old Testament.)

You might be wondering or have thought before that the Old Testament does not say much, if anything, about Jesus. But for the early Christians, everything that they needed to know about the nature of Jesus had already been revealed. We can see this in the pages of the New Testament. Consider the parable of Lazarus and the rich man and Abraham's solemn warning to the rich man concerning the fate of his unbelieving brothers: "[The rich man] said, 'Then, father, I beg you to send him to my father's house--for I have five brothers--that he may warn them, so that they will not also come to this place of torment.' Abraham replied, 'They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.' He said, 'No, father Abraham; but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.' He said to them, 'If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.'" -Luke 16:27-31

Or Consider Jesus' words to the two disciples on the road to Emmaus: "'O, how foolish you are, and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?' Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the Scriptures." -Luke 24:25-27

But to the Jews, it was anything but obvious that the Messiah should suffer; and herein lies the single greatest point of differentiation between the Jews and the Christians of the first centuries. The Jews were waiting for a triumphant, warrior Messiah who would come in and forcibly set up the kingdom of the Jews on earth. Conversely, the Christians proclaimed that a crucified man was the Messiah. Thus, the text that created the most controversy in those early debates was Isaiah 53: "He was despised and rejected by others; a man of sorrows and acquainted with infirmity . . . surely he has born our infirmities and carried our diseases . . . but he was wounded for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the punishment that made us whole, and by his bruises we are healed."

In this amazing passage, written hundreds of years before Christ, the Christians discerned the identity of their savior - not a warrior Messiah, not a triumphant king, but a suffering servant. They clearly saw the cross - the punishment that made us whole. The New Testament writers refer to it frequently (cf. 1 Pet 2:21-24). In a mid second century debate between the early church father Justin Martyr and the Jew Trypho, Justin quotes or refers to it in excess of twenty times including a full quotation of Isaiah 52:10-54:6. This was obviously the foundation of the Christians' claim that the cross was prophesied by the prophets.

Incredibly, the Jews also discerned the Messiah in this passage; however, they saw not a suffering Messiah, but the triumphant Messiah that they so longed for. They concentrated on other parts of the passage: "Therefore I will allot him a portion with the great, and he shall divide the spoil with the strong." It is not until the fourth century that Rabbinic exegesis begins to concede that the Messiah figure might be a suffering one.

I imagine that most of us would find it unimaginable that the Jews cannot see the cross in this passage; it is so clearly there. But the reality is that one's interpretations of Scripture are always guided by his or her presuppositions. The Jews saw a triumphant, warrior Messiah in Isaiah 53 because that is what they already expected. Only those who had undergone the radical conversion to Christianity could look upon the Scriptures through a new lens, and see so clearly what was previously thought impossible.

The same remains true for us today - for our interpretations of Scripture are just as surely guided by our presuppositions. Many of these presuppositions are ungrounded and can be harmful; they can lead us to find things in Scripture that are truly not there. Thus, we in America can interpret our riches as the blessings of God, while the poor in South America can interpret them as signs that we have forsaken God. Suspending judgment on either claim for the moment, the lesson is that we need to read Scripture with the knowledge that we have presuppositions, and we need to pray that Christ will continue to open our eyes as he opened the eyes of those first Christians, that we too may see things we have never seen. And that we might be converted. And that we might still be known as people of the book.

A Bit of Levity

Prior to entering seminary, I spent about eight months as a youth pastor at a First Evangelical Free Church in Boone, Iowa. Since many of my readers did not know me at that point in my life, I thought I would give you a little idea of the kind of youth pastor I was. This video pretty much sums it up, wouldn't you agree Kelli B.?

End of the Year Reflection

I am happy to announce that I have turned in my last paper and finished my last test and the first year of my PhD program has officially come to an end. There are many ways that a man like me could reflect on this last year. If you've been reading since September, you have heard the majority of my reflections. I have learned a lot and I have grown a lot. I feel more confident in my vocation and in my giftings from the Lord to complete this process. (Translation: I'm no longer waiting for them to kick me out.) The things that I have learned will stay with me; some of them I will be ruminating on for the remainder of my life. But all those things, I am certain, will come out on these pages sooner or later.

I thought, therefore, that a more appropriate approach to this year's assessment would be to share with you some of my observations of being in a PhD program at Marquette University, particularly as they differ from my Masters program at Asbury Theological Seminary. Take the following with a grain of salt. I assure you that they are all true, but none of them reflect on the quality of the institution, individual, or education and experience I received or am currently receiving.

Top Five Differences Between Asbury and Marquette:

1. Asbury is an Evangelical Protestant Seminary; Marquette is a Catholic University.
2. Asbury is outside the official ranks of the Methodist Church because it is viewed as "too conservative"; Marquette is outside the official ranks of the Catholic Church because it is viewed as "too liberal".
3. Asbury professors wear collared shirts and occasionally business suits; Marquette professors wear the Collar and occasionally Monastic robes.
4. Asbury's end of the year party consists of a barbecue and Diet Coke; Marquette's consists of a smattering of Wisconsin beers and a selection of fine wines and liquor (provided by the department).
5. Asbury's Final Greek exam was a sight translation of John 15; Marquette's final Greek exam was a sight translation of a passage from Diogenes (I don't even know who that is).

Top Ten Marquette Experiences that would never happen at Asbury:

1. Taking an entrance exam after I had already been accepted.
2. Writing a 25 page paper and being told that not even this is enough space to make a substantial argument.
3. Finding no research in English for a paper I had to write.
4. Hearing the "F Bomb" in class from a professor.
(I did hear an Asbury professor say "Darn it all" once.)
5. Being assigned a new paper (in addition to the impending final) in the final two weeks of the semester.
6. Readung the "F Bomb" in an email from a professor.
7. Hearing the statement: "I can say that the resurrection was probably physical, but that's about all I can say."
8. Facing a professor's look of incredulity when I told him I couldn't read French.
9. Having a meeting with a professor while he had a smoke.
10. Being told I was a "schismatic."

These are the shockers of the year. But I hope you have been able to tell from my posts that the majority of students and teachers at Marquette are strong and faithful Christians, even if they have a beer or a smoke once in awhile.

Voulez-vous etudier avec moi, ce soir?

I'm happy to announce that I passed the French language exam! (And I didn't even have to re-write it due to poor penmanship.) Thanks to all my faithful readers for your prayers. I don't think that prayer can make someone pass, however, I do believe prayer can help someone to do their best. And I believe that I did that day and these are the good results. For those of you keeping score, that's two languages down (French and Latin) and one to go (German). I will be taking German this summer (an intensive course) so I will be asking for continued prayer. These language requirements were the most intimidating thing to me coming into this program, and it is amazing to think that I am 2/3rds of the way there to completing the requirements.

The Crimson Stain

Today we celebrated the Eucharist. I love how our church does communion. After reading through the Communion Liturgy, the ushers dismiss the pews one at a time to the front of the church where we each stand or kneel before the altar. The Pastor and another helper serve each person in succession reciting those beautiful words: "The body of Christ given for you; the blood of Christ shed for you." The helper, who always carries the chalice, holds a white cloth under the cup in order to catch any drops of wine coming off the morsel that the communing one has dipped into the cup. This is done either for practical purposes (so that no wine gets on the carpet of the church) or for theological purposes (so that the precious blood of Christ is not spilled on the ground). Personally, I hope it is for the latter. After the congregation has communed, the Pastor slowly and deliberately covers the remaining elements with the white cloth.

Today, as I sat in the pew, I noticed the white cloth covering the cup. It was stained with several drops of crimson wine. It occurred to me that the scene was a perfect reminder of the sacrifice that was made for my salvation and for the salvation of all those sitting around me. For it is the blood of Christ, shed on the cross, remembered and recalled anew this day that gives us life. That crimson stained cloth was beautiful - he became crimson that my sins could become white.

"Make them be for us the body and blood that we might be for the world the body of Christ redeemed by his blood." -United Methodist Communion Liturgy

"This cup which is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood." -Luke 22:20

"The punishment that brought us peace fell upon him, for by his stripes we are healed." -Isaiah 53:5

Dead Week?

I'm not quite sure how it happened, but I have indeed arrived at the end of this semester, and therefore, the end of my first year of PhD work. It is not quite yet time to send in the clowns or the undertaker as it were. I still have a week and then finals. At Iowa State, this week before finals was aptly named "Dead Week." And though the subjects have changed (and the workload has certainly increased), I think that "Dead Week" is an appropriate title for this week at Marquette as well.

If you are confused as to the meaning of Dead Week, don't feel alone - I too was confused at the onset of my freshman year at Iowa State. But I found out pretty quick. If you'd like to read my thoughts on this subject back when I was a mere 19 year old college freshman, you can check them out here. It's funny to realize that, though it is - incredibly - ten years later, I still have many of the same thoughts. (Enter horrible cliche here.)

Rendez Compte de l'essai Francais

Translation: "Wasn't someone taking some exam?"

I am happy to report that I think that the French test went well, though I can't say a whole lot for the experience itself. We were all crammed in this little room and we're given these desks, which, I'm sorry, might as well have been built for a hobbit, in which to write out our translations. Also, we were required to write in pen, which is odd for a translation assignment, since you are constantly changing words and phrases etc. At the end of the testing period, I realized that my sheet looked about as clear as Lake Michigan. In fact, for a moment I wondered if I had actually written in English or simply copied the French from my test sheet as is. Remembering an awful experience in which I had to rewrite three essay questions due to poor handwriting (the Marquette entrance exam), I quickly grabbed another blue book and recopied carefully.

But all in all, I finished the translation, it made sense, and anyone should be able to read my writing - these are good things. So, for all who prayed and thought about me: merci beaucoup. (Translation: "you guys rock".)

One side note that you might find a bit entertaining as these are the kinds of things that just happen to me. We were given a slight hint about a week before the test of where the passage we needed to translate would come from, Dictionnaire de Spirituality. The prof who was picking the passage told another person that the passage would be from a major theme in the Old Testament. So, I chose the section on faith, "Foi" copied the article and translated a bit of it each night.

The morning before the test, I was translating the article and stopped short of the final section of the article in order to give myself a break. The name of the section, now blazoned in my memory, was: La situation de la foi. When I opened my test, my heart sank as I saw those same words at the top of the passage. Miraculously, I had chosen the very article that was on the test. Somewhat less than miraculously, I had translated every part of the article except the part that was on the test. Quelle chienne!

Je Dois Avoir la Priere

Translation: "I need me some prayer!"

I am taking my French examination tomorrow at 3:00. Why do I need to know le francais (Translation: "that stinkin' language) you may ask. Great question, and one which is particularly forefront on my mind right now. The sinple answer is je ne sais pas. (Translation: "I don't have a dang clue.") Are you confident that you are going to pass, you may ask. The simple answer is: non. (Translation: "Are you drunk?")

All kidding aside, I have realized this year that a reading knowledge of other languages is essential for good scholarship. Not only are the ancient languages important (which for me means Greek and Latin) so as to be able to read the documents of the fathers in the original languages in which they were written, it is also important to know modern research languages (French and German) because much scholarly work is being produced in those languages and it takes a long time for them to be translated into English. Many critical works have never been translated at all! In my field in particular, Patristics, so much work is done by the French that if you are unable to read French, you will never be able to have a good command of scholarship. Additionally, the best modern translations of the ancient documents are not made in English (of course not) but in French - quel dommage! (Translation: well you figure it out). So though it is a pain, it is a necessary.

So all that to say, pray for me - s'l vous plait. Pray not that I would pass because I'm not hoping to be bailed out here. I have worked hard this semester. Just pray that I would be able to think clearly and remember. As always I thank you for these prayers. I feel that you as a community are a big reason that I am able to persevere through this.

Au revoir! (Translation: "HELP!)

Peace

A poignant word from a second century saint in these war torn times:

"Christians, who, having learned the true worship of God from the law, and the word which went forth from Jerusalem by means of the apostles of Jesus, have fled for safety to the God of Jacob and the God of Israel; and we who were filled with war, and mutual slaughter, and every wickedness, have each through the whole earth changed our warlike weapons, - our swords into ploughshares, and our spears into implements of tillage - and we cultivate piety, righteousness, philanthropy, faith, and hope, which we have from the Father himself through whom he was crucified."

-Justin Martyr, Dialogue With Trypho

A Blazin' Good Birthday

Today is April 20th. It is my birthday. It is also a counter cultural holiday celebrating the smoking of marijuana. No one knows exactly why. Some link it to a group of teenagers called "The Waldos" who, in 1971, met every day after school (at 4:20) to smoke pot (thank you Wikipedia). Others link it to the slopes at Aspen, where the last run of the day would be about 5 minutes to 4:00, meaning that everyone would get to the bottom at 4:20 and celebrate the day by blazing some doobies. Either way, 4/20 is generally recognized as their national holiday. Happy birthday me.

It should come as no shock to my readers that I have not had any personal experience (on my birthday or otherwise) with the smoking of marijuana. However, it occurs to me that my birthday has been linked to a blaze of sorts.

Nine years ago, my 20th birthday, I was a freshman at Iowa State University and I had volunteered my services as a Parade Aide in the annual VEISHEA parade (VEISHEA is the celebration of Iowa State University). For the average Parade Aide, this would entail walking beside a big float and nothing else. Unfortunately I am not the average person and it meant an entirely different experience for me. It was such a good story that I wrote about it in my weekly column in the Iowa State Daily. If you are interested, you can read it here.

Happy 4/20 bloggers! Stay off the hash.

Spring Tragedy

Our thoughts and prayers go out to the families of the victims of the senseless tragedy at Virginia Tech yesterday. These students were preparing for their future, in an institution of higher learning, and it was cruelly and viciously taken from them. When these kinds of things happen, we are left to wonder what minds the world was deprived of yesterday. Was there an Einstein in that classroom? Or a Martin Luther King? Was there a Mother Theresa? Were there Christians who were planning to work for the increase of God's kingdom?

I am particularly aware of tragedies such as this around this time of year because it is around my birthday (April 20th). In 1999, on my 21st birthday, I awoke to the awful news of Columbine, and for me that day is always associated with it. On April 19, 1993 the Waco tragedy occurred and on April 19th, 1995 the Oklahoma City bombing occurred. The irony of these life ending events is that they occurred in springtime, the season of new birth, the Easter season. It is a harsh reminder for us that while Jesus has resurrected, the final enemy of death has yet to be completely abolished.

In times like these, the question one often hears is: "Where is God in all this? Why does God let this kind of thing happen?" The answer, which we often do not want to hear, is that our sin is what causes this. The first humans turned from God's loving offer of a relationship and humanity has been in pain ever since. Incredibly, God continues to pursue us - he did in the incarnation and he continues to with the Spirit. The shooting yesterday is not, in my opinion, God's judgment on our sins so much as it is the natural consequences of life lived apart from God.

Pray for the families of the victims this day. Pray for the family of the shooter this day. And as always, pray for peace.

Just who is Irenaeus?

Many of you know that I am studying historical theology at Marquette. Less of you know that the figure of history in which I am particularly interested, and on whom I will hopefully write my dissertation, is the late second century bishop of Lyons, Irenaeus. My hunch is that a fraction of you have never even heard of Irenaeus and more than likely wonder to yourselves why I would possibly want to devote my time to such an obscure figure.

In light of this fact, today's post is a bit of a history lesson about this so-called obscure figure. Yet instead of telling you myself, I thought that I would pass on a message from a teacher and pastor much more qualified than myself, namely Pope Benedict XVI. Since the start of 2007, the Pope has been delivering weekly messages in the Vatican teaching each week on a different saint of the Church. The following message he gave on March 28th. Though it is a bit long, I think the pay off is great, and hopefully it will help you understand the importance of this little known Father and why I want to devote my studies to his work.

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"Dear Brothers and Sisters!In the catechesis on the great figures of the Church during the first centuries, today we reach the figure of an eminent personality, Irenaeus of Lyons. His biographical information comes from his own testimony, sent down to us by Eusebius in the fifth book of the "Storia Ecclesiastica."

Irenaeus was most probably born in Smyrna (today Izmir, in Turkey) between the years 135 and 140. There, while still a youth, he attended the school of Bishop Polycarp, for his part, a disciple of the apostle John. We do not know when he moved from Asia Minor to Gaul, but the move must have coincided with the first developments of the Christian community in Lyons: There, in 177, we find Irenaeus mentioned among the college of presbyters.That year he was sent to Rome, bearer of a letter from the community of Lyons to Pope Eleutherius. The Roman mission took Irenaeus away from the persecution by Marcus Aurelius, in which at least 48 martyrs died, among them the bishop of Lyons himself, the 90-year-old Pothinus, who died of mistreatment in jail. Thus, on his return, Irenaeus was elected bishop of the city. The new pastor dedicated himself entirely to his episcopal ministry, which ended around 202-203, perhaps by martyrdom.

Irenaeus is above all a man of faith and a pastor. Like the Good Shepherd, he has prudence, a richness of doctrine, and missionary zeal. As a writer, he aims for a twofold objective: to defend true doctrine from the attacks of the heretics, and to clearly expound the truth of the faith. His two works still in existence correspond exactly to the fulfillment of these two objectives: the five books "Against Heresies," and the "Demonstration of Apostolic Preaching" (which could be called the oldest "catechism of Christian doctrine"). Without a doubt, Irenaeus is the champion in the fight against heresies.

The Church of the second century was threatened by so-called gnosticism, a doctrine which claimed that the faith taught by the Church was nothing more than symbolism for the simpleminded, those unable to grasp more difficult things. Instead, the initiated, the intellectuals -- they called themselves gnostics -- could understand what was behind the symbolism, and thus would form an elite, intellectual Christianity.

Obviously, this intellectual Christianity became more and more fragmented with different currents of thought, often strange and extravagant, yet attractive to many. A common element within these various currents was dualism, that is, a denial of faith in the only God, Father of all, creator and savior of humanity and of the world. To explain the evil in the world, they asserted the existence of a negative principle, next to the good God. This negative principle had created matter, material things.

Firmly rooted in the biblical doctrine of Creation, Irenaeus refuted dualism and the gnostic pessimism that devalued corporal realities. He decisively affirmed the original holiness of matter, of the body, of the flesh, as well as of the spirit. But his work goes far beyond the refutation of heresies: In fact, one can say that he presents himself as the first great theologian of the Church, who established systematic theology. He himself speaks about the system of theology, that is, the internal coherence of the faith.

The question of the "rule of faith" and its transmission lies at the heart of his doctrine. For Irenaeus, the "rule of faith" coincides in practice with the Apostles' Creed, and gives us the key to interpret the Gospel, to interpret the creed in light of the Gospel. The apostolic symbol, a sort of synthesis of the Gospel, helps us understand what the Gospel means, how we must read the Gospel itself.

In fact, the Gospel preached by St. Irenaeus is the one he received from Polycarp, bishop of Smyrna, and the Gospel of Polycarp goes back to the apostle John, Polycarp having been John's disciple. Thus, the true teaching is not that invented by the intellectuals, rising above the simple faith of the Church. The true Gospel is preached by the bishops who have received it thanks to an uninterrupted chain from the apostles.

These men have taught nothing but the simple faith, which is also the true depth of the revelation of God. Thus, says Irenaeus, there is no secret doctrine behind the common creed of the Church. There is no superior Christianity for intellectuals. The faith publicly professed by the Church is the faith common to all. Only this faith is apostolic, coming from the apostles, that is, from Jesus and from God.

To adhere to this faith publicly taught by the apostles to their successors, Christians must observe what the bishops say. They must specifically consider the teaching of the Church of Rome, pre-eminent and ancient. This Church, because of its age, has the greatest apostolicity; in fact its origins come from the columns of the apostolic college, Peter and Paul. All the Churches must be in harmony with the Church of Rome, recognizing in it the measure of the true apostolic tradition and the only faith common to the Church.

With these arguments, very briefly summarized here, Irenaeus refutes the very foundation of the aims of the gnostics, of these intellectuals: First of all, they do not possess a truth that would be superior to the common faith, given that what they say is not of apostolic origin, but invented by them. Second, truth and salvation are not a privilege monopolized by a few, but something that everyone can reach through the preaching of the apostles' successors, and, above all, that of the Bishop of Rome.By taking issue with the "secret" character of the gnostic tradition and by contesting its multiple intrinsic contradictions, Irenaeus concerns himself with illustrating the genuine concept of Apostolic Tradition, that we could summarize in three points.

a) The Apostolic Tradition is "public," not private or secret. For Irenaeus, there is no doubt that the content of the faith transmitted by the Church is that received from the apostles and from Jesus, the Son of God. There is no teaching aside from this. Therefore, for one who wishes to know the true doctrine, it is enough to know "the Tradition that comes from the Apostles and the faith announced to men": tradition and faith that "have reached us through the succession of bishops" ("Adv. Haer." 3,3,3-4). Thus, the succession of bishops, personal principle, Apostolic Tradition, and doctrinal principle all coincide.

b) The Apostolic Tradition is "one." While gnosticism is divided into many sects, the Church's Tradition is one in its fundamental contents, which -- as we have seen -- Irenaeus calls "regula fidei" or "veritatis." And given that it is one, it creates unity among peoples, different cultures and different communities. It has a common content like that of truth, despite different languages and cultures.

There is a beautiful expression that Irenaeus uses in the book "Against Heresies": "The Church, having received this preaching and this faith, although scattered throughout the whole world, yet, as if occupying but one house, carefully preserves it. She also believes these points (of doctrine) just as if she had but one soul, and one and the same heart, and she proclaims them, and teaches them, and hands them down, with perfect harmony, as if she possessed only one mouth. For, although the languages of the world are dissimilar, yet the import of the tradition is one and the same. For the Churches which have been planted in Germany do not believe or hand down anything different, nor do those in Spain, nor those in Gaul, nor those in the East, nor those in Egypt, nor those in Libya, nor those which have been established in the central regions of the world." We can already see at this time -- we are in the year 200 -- the universality of the Church, its catholicity and the unifying force of truth, which unites these so-very-different realities, from Germany, to Spain, to Italy, to Egypt, to Libya, in the common truth revealed to us by Christ.

c) Finally, the Apostolic Tradition is, as he says in Greek, the language in which he wrote his book, "pneumatic," that is, spiritual, led by the Holy Spirit. In Greek, spirit is "pneuma." It is not a transmission entrusted to the abilities of more or less educated men, but the Spirit of God who guarantees faithfulness in the transmission of the faith.

This is the "life" of the Church, that which makes the Church always young, that is, fruitful with many charisms. Church and Spirit are inseparable for Irenaeus. This faith, we read in the third book of "Against Heresies," "which, having been received from the Church, we do preserve, and which always, by the Spirit of God, renewing its youth, as if it were some precious deposit in an excellent vessel, causes the vessel itself containing it to renew its youth also. ... For where the Church is, there is the Spirit of God; and where the Spirit of God is, there is the Church, and every kind of grace" (3,24,1).

As we can see, Irenaeus does not stop at defining the concept of Tradition. His tradition, uninterrupted Tradition, is not traditionalism, because this Tradition is always internally vivified by the Holy Spirit, which makes it alive again, allows it to be interpreted and understood in the vitality of the Church. According to his teaching, the Church's faith must be preached in such a way that it appears as it must appear, that is "public," "one," "pneumatic," "spiritual." From each of these characteristics, one can glean a fruitful discernment of the authentic transmission of the faith in the Church of today.

More generally, in the doctrine of Irenaeus, human dignity, body and soul, is firmly rooted in Divine Creation, in the image of Christ and in the permanent work of sanctification of the Spirit. This doctrine is like the "main road" to clarify to all people of good will, the object and the limits of dialogue on values, and to give an ever new impulse to the missionary activities of the Church, to the strength of truth which is the source of all the true values in the world."

A Profound Mystery

I rarely remove my wedding ring these days, not as a sign of my enduring love for my wife (though it certainly is enduring) so much as the perilous fear that I will lose it (the ring that is). And for those of you who know me well, you know that fear is well merited. But I removed my ring today and read, for the first time in awhile, the words etched inside it:

"I have found the one my heart loves."

Though I have always known those words were on the inside of my ring, I was struck anew by their incredible meaning. Not simply because they portray the sweet heart of my wife (who for some reason chose those beautiful words to describe me) but even more so because of where they come from. These are not her words, at least originally. They come from the Song of Songs 3:4. They are, therefore, words embedded in a larger story, a story which, though on the surface is a love poem between a man and his wife, convey the deeper meaning of God's love for his church. The words on my ring come, in the Song of Songs, from the mouth of the woman (who represents the church) in describing her love for her husband (who represents Christ).

The fact that my wife used these words to describe the love of our marriage tells me that her love for me comes under the larger truth of her love for God. She is able to love me because she loves God. This love ought to define all Christian marriage, for we do not (or ought not) marry to fulfill ourselves, but rather to witness to the love of God. This is why the Apostle Paul cannot speak about marriage without referencing Christ. And this is why the Catholic Church holds marriage as a sacrament (incidentally, they are right). But the amazing truth is that this unselfish, charitable love ends up to be the most fulfilling love of all.

"For this reason a man will leave his father and his mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh. This is a profound mystery - but I am talking about Christ and the church." -Ephesians 5:31-32

Remembering Easter

There is a Russian Orthodox monk who teaches at Marquette, of whom I have previously written on this blog, named Father Alexander. Through these first few months that I have known him, he has always worn the same thing, a rather tattered, plain black monastic robe. Today, I noticed that he had undergone a stunning transformation - he was dressed in a white robe, an ancient monastic tradition marking the change of reality brought by the resurrection.

Of course, Jesus resurrected from the grave several millenia ago; thus, we have technically been living in the new age, the age where death is abolished and the world in the process of recreation, for the entirety of all of our lives. What change should there be, then, from last week to now? In a word, much.

The church rehearses the Christian story each year through our reading of Scripture and our liturgical celebrations. We do this to remind us of the decisive truths that God has acted definitively in the world to save us from sin and death. We are a sinful people who, like Israel, too quickly forget. We are in desperate need, in other words, of remembering.

The Greek word for "remembrance" is anamnesis, and it is much more nuanced than our English word "remember." When we say we "remember", we think about something that is in the past and we think about that time back then, that is, back in the past. But anamnesis is not simply the remembering of something that is in the past. Rather, it is the re-calling of something in the past so as to make it present for us today. Anamnesis is literally the re-presenting of a past event in our present life. Thus, when the church remembers the resurrection of the Lord, we do not simply think about a past event, we bring that past event into our present reality. Christ the Lord is risen today!

The early church symbolized this through the ancient tradition of Easter morning baptisms. Normally, Easter was the only day in which a baptism would take place. And the catechumens would be led to the living water at dawn on Easter morning, the same time that the women came upon the empty tomb. As the catechumens were baptized in the water, they remembered the resurrection of their Lord and it was present to them. And coming out of the water, they dawned the white robe symbolizing their new, imperishable garments in Christ.

Christ died and rose 2000 years ago, yes. But in our rehearsal of the story yesterday, we have made the reality of the empty tomb real in our time. As a result, there is a change this week from last week. Our remembering of that story and that truth ought encourage us to walk in the new life. We all, like Father Alexander, should be walking in white robes.

Easter Sunday

"Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here. He is risen!"
-The Gospel of Luke


"Christ the Lord is risen today.
Sons of men and angels say.
Raise your joys and triumphs high.
Sing ye heavens and earth reply. Alleluia!!!"

"Love's redeeming work is done.
Fought the fight, the battle won.
Lo! The sun's eclipse is o'er.
Lo! He sets in blood no more. Alleluia!!!

"Vain the stone, the watch, the seal.
Christ hath burst the gates of hell:
Death in vain forbid Him rise,
Christ hath opened paradise. Alleluia!!!

"Lives again our glorious King.
Where, o Death, is now thy sting?
Dying once, He all doth save.
Where thy victory, o grave? Alleluia!!!

"Soar we now where Christ hath led.
Following our exalted Head.
Made like Him, like Him we rise.
Ours the cross, the grave, the skies. Alleluia!!!"

-Charles Wesley


He is Risen indeed!

Holy Saturday

Today is Holy Saturday; our Lord is in the tomb. The church calls this day the Blessed Sabbath. The title implicitly connects Holy Saturday to the seventh day of creation, the day on which God the Creator rested. Christ is in the grave, in a sense, resting from His work.

But this connection points to an even greater truth that Easter Sunday is the first day of New Creation. When Jesus raises from the dead, the beginning of the restoration of the world has begun. The Gospel of John portrays this through thick symbolism. When the women who come to the tomb on Sunday morning discover that Jesus is not there, they move quickly to a garden. And when the risen Jesus first appears, they mistake him for a gardener. The irony, of course, is that God has been about the business of planting gardens since the beginning.

But of all the days we commemorate in Holy Week, this is the least acknowledged. Often, we celebrate Good Friday and then move quickly to Easter. I think the reason for this is that our modern culture has little appreciation of the significance and meaning of suffering. We are a culture which places importance on comfort and success. A bit of this mindset has crept into the church. Thus, we want to move as quickly as possible to Easter morning, for this, after all, is the success! This is the day that death is conquered. But Holy Saturday reminds us that there was no conquering of death without first being conformed to death. For Christ to raise on Sunday morning, he first had to die. Holy Saturday confirms that Christ indeed conformed to our human nature and he conformed to it even to death.

Let us remember today that the way to resurrection and redemption had to pass first through the grave.

Good Friday

Today is Good Friday, the day when they crucified our Lord. The designation "good" is peculiar to the English language. In the Roman Missal it is designated Feria VI in Parasceve which means literally "Feast of the Preparation." In the Greek liturgy, it is called "the Holy and Great Friday." In the Romance languages, it is called "Holy Friday." And in German, it is called "Sorrowful Friday."

The collective whole of these names displays the ambivalence with which we approach this day. On the one hand, it is a horrible day, a day of mourning, for humanity committed its greatest atrocity by brutally killing God's only Son, a man who came in peace, a man whose heart was so full of love that he wept when he saw the state of the world, as personified in Jerusalem, a man who left the heights of heaven to commune with the dregs of earth. We were the object of his love, we were the reason for his tears, we were the dregs. And we killed him.

But on the other hand, this is a wonderful day, a holy and great day of rejoicing, for the Lamb who takes away the sin of the world is sacrificed, thus atoning once and for all for our sinful humanity. Jesus, who on Christmas is conformed to our humanity, today conforms to all of us, even to our sin and even to our death. And in being conformed to our death, he sanctifies even it, so that our deaths are no longer meaningless and no longer judgment, but rather passage into his presence - that is if we participate in his death through baptism.

Perhaps the English title of this day most appropriately captures its sentiment: "Good." It shows a quiet respect for this day, it shows us that even in the great celebration of sin abolished, there is mourning that it was our sin which placed him there.

I leave you with a few quotes that capture the significance of this day better than I could ever hope to:

"Surely our griefs He Himself bore, and our sorrows He carried; yet we ourselves esteemed Him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. But He was pierced through for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the chastening for our well being fell upon Him, and by His scourging we are healed." -Isaiah

"For no one will hardly die for a righteous man; though perhaps for a good man someone would dare even to die. But God demonstrates his own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." -Paul

"When I survey the wondrous cross on which the Prince of Glory died, my richest gain I count but loss, and pour contempt on all my pride. See, from his head, his hands, his feet, sorrow and love flow mingled down. Did e'er such love and sorrow meet, or thorns compose so rich a crown?" -Isaac Watts

"The task of the heart is self-preservation, holding together what is its own. The pierced heart of Jesus has . . . truly overturned this definition. This heart is not concerned with self-preservation but with self-surrender. It saves the world by opening itself. The collapse of the opened Heart is the content of the Easter mystery. The Hearts saves, indeed, but it saves by giving itself away." -Pope Benedict XVI

"It is finished." -Jesus the Christ

Maundy Thursday

Today is the Feast of Maundy Thursday, also called Holy Thursday, which commemorates the night in which Jesus instituted the Eucharist with his disciples. It was in the midst of their celebration of the salvific moment in Israel's history where the blood of the lamb above their doorways allowed the Angel of Death to pass over them, the final plague which ultimately led to their Exodus. In the midst of the celebration, Jesus stood up and performed that mysterious and holy action:

"This is my body, given for you."

"This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which is poured out for you."

Blood is salvific in the course of Israel's history. It is shed each time God makes a covenant with his people. It is the means by which the lamb passed over. And in less than 24 hours after that last supper, Jesus' blood would be shed, establishing a new covenant with his people. A covenant which is written on their hearts. A covenant which abolishes sin and death once and for all. And the church has been eating his body and drinking his blood ever since; it is the oldest and most cherished sacrament of the church.

The account of the institution of the Eucharist occurs in three of the four Gospels. But the interesting thing is that the term by which we remember this night comes not from any of these Gospels, but from John: "A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another." The Latin phrase for new command is "mandatum novum" the origin of Maundy.

In place of the Eucharist in John (which there is discussed in ch 6), Jesus dons a towel and washes the feet of his disciples. This is the embodiment of his new command, to love one another. Jesus loved us so much to the point that he died for us. The reality is that in everyday life, we will not get the chance to love our friends this much. But here Jesus shows the way to love one another - by serving one another. By caring more for others than ourselves.

On this Maundy Thursday, let us remember the Eucharist which commemorates the new covenant by which we are brought into communion with God, and let us remember the new command that Christ gave us, to love others as He loved us. May he give us the strength and the courage to do so.

The Root of All Heresy

For those of us in the church, we have learned to regard the words "heresy" and "heretics" as bad words, of the four letter variety, from which to stay far away. Often these heretics can be demonized and the church has a wicked history of, not just breaking communion with them (which is warranted) but of killing them (which is not warranted). While heretics are rarely killed anymore, they are certainly still demonized, to the point that we assume that someone who is a heretic is an evil person.

History shows us, however, that this is simply not correct. In point of fact, most heretics were holy men and women, just as devout and just as zealous for the truth as those labeled orthodox. Heretics rarely disregard the Word or call into question its inspiration. Where then does heresy come from, if not from the disregard of God's Word? It comes from a misinterpretation of God's Word. Bad interpretation of Scripture is the root of all heresy. As St. Irenaeus in the late second century wrote in the preface to his monumental work against the Gnostic heresies: "They falsify the words of the Lord and make themselves bad interpreters of what was well said."

This is a warning to us to handle the Word with care, lest in our devoutness we are lead astray with some of the heretics of old. As we read, we need to look to our Fathers and Mothers in the faith for clues on how to interpret and to pray that the Spirit be with us as we read. There is power in the Word to change us, if we read it in accord with the boundaries given the church. For the same Spirit that gave the church the Word also gave her the means to interpret it well.

Thoughts on Joining a Church

This morning Julie and I became members of Trinity Pilgrim United Methodist Church in Wauwatosa, Wisconsin, a community about 15 minutes away from our apartment. It is a small, church with two adult Sunday School classes, a men's choir, a handbell choir, a youth group that is trying to get on its feet, and an elderly pianist/organist who has been a member since she was confirmed. It lacks many of the amenities of "modern" churches. The pastor never has a power point with his sermon, in fact the sanctuary lacks the ability for it. He simply stands in front of the congregation without a note in hand and speaks. There is not a professional sounding praise band leading worship, complete with interpretive dancers. This morning we sang Charles' Wesley's classic: "O for a Thousand Tongues to Sing" with a simple piano background. And there are not a thousand different programs, but they do have several key ongoing service projects which are making a difference in the community. But you may ask, what drew us to this church? For many of the things this church lacks are the very things that our culture (and particularly people of my generation) are convinced grow churches. We were drawn to this church for two specific reasons: 1) the congregation is a family, a true fellowshipping body; and 2) the pastor preaches from the Word of God.

We were immediately embraced by these people, and not in a desperate sort of way, with looks which said: "you young people are our last hope!" They remembered our names, they remembered things we had asked them to pray for, they remembered to shake my left hand. When Julie would miss church for work, they made room at their tables for me. It was in general a warm atmosphere of Christian love which, additionally, witnessed to a large segment of God's kingdom: people of several different races attend as well as people of different socio-economic statuses. Yet all are welcomed at the table of fellowship.

The pastor speaks from the Word. He understands the nature of God as a God of love with a heart for His people and a desire to commune with them. He understands that God cares for the poor and the underprivileged and that the people of God ought too to care. This aspect always is emphasized in his sermons, which are neither fluffy nor full of jokes. He uses his time deliberately and he uses it well. For he tells the story of the people of God in a way that connects to us today.

Furthermore, we saw areas in this church where we felt that our giftings could make a true contribution. I think that Julie and I will be getting involved with the senior high Sunday School class. We ask for your prayers in this endeavor. In short, we are really excited to be at Trinity Pilgrim UMC and believe that God has great things prepared for us there.

As good as professional musicians and power point sermons and thousands of programs are in a church, they are not, in my opinion, what ultimately grows the church. They might attract a lot of people, but attracting a lot of people is quite different than growing a church. To grow a church, people need to hear the Gospel from the pulpit and see it lived out by the people in the pews. We believe we have found a place where this is happening and we pray that we will be able to contribute to its life.

Christ and the American G.I.?

I recently read an email forward with the following claim: "The only people who were willing to die for you were Jesus Christ and the American G.I." Despite the forward's obligatory promises of good fortune if I passed it on and the threats of great calamity if I failed to, I did not pass it on for I find the statement extremely problematic.

In the first place, I just don't think it is true. I would like to think that I have a few friends and family members who would be willing to die for me. I believe that I am willing to die for them should the occasion arise. I do not say this out of pride and sincerely hope it is not taken that way; I say it out of the change wrought in me by Christ. For his definition of love and friendship is nothing short of this: "This is my commandment, that you love one another, just as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, that one lay down his life for his friends." -John 15:12-13; "This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers." -1 John 3:16. If it is true that the only people willing to die for me other than Christ are American G.I.s, than only American G.I.s have fully understood the radical love Christ witnesses to. This is hard for me to believe for many reasons, not the least of which is the simple fact that not all American G.I.s are Christians.

The second, and more compelling, reason that I did not send the forward on is that I think the comparison between the work of Jesus and the work of an American soldier is a horrible one which severely misunderstands (at best) or undermines (at worst) the Gospel message. After all, the soldier rushes to war with a gun, killing all those who did not happen to be born in America. The soldier does all he can to stay alive and if it is between he and another guy (particularly the enemy), it is going to be the enemy who dies. These are the brutal facts of war and no one blames the soldier for this type of mentality - this is the job his country has asked him to do.

The work of Jesus was completely different. Jesus came peaceably, preaching a gospel of peace and restoration and freedom (from sin) for all people, not just those who happened to be born in a specific geographical location (and certainly not only for Americans). Jesus preached the turning of the other cheek, the walking of the extra mile, the loving of one's enemies. When he was called upon to fight, he refused and chastised his disciples for defending him with the sword. And he healed the ear of the very man who came to arrest him. He submitted to immense suffering and death, never once striking back. In short, he lived and modeled his gospel of peace and displayed for us the only true means toward restoration. The only comparison which is merited is the Christian martyr who willingly dies for being a follower of Christ (which continues to happen throughout the world), or perhaps the person who dies on behalf of a friend. Which if you remember, Christ expects of us all.

The Relevant Tradition

From the earliest days of the church, two seemingly paradoxical characteristics have marked the Christian faith: 1) an abiding concern for tradition and finding one's identity and story in the community that has gone before; and 2) an abiding concern for spreading the gospel to peoples and cultures who have never heard it before. These characteristics, equally important, have often been the source of tension, for the question always arises: how does one make the faith relevant and understandable to new generations and cultures without sacrificing what is distinctive about that faith?

There have been times when the church has succeeded in the struggle. The New Testament writers are the prime example. Their beloved tradition, the tradition and story out of which Christianity grew, was the story of Israel. And as the pages of the NT reveal, this story was fully embraced and carried on by the first Christians. The church, in struggling to identify herself, looked back into her tradition. Thus, Peter, writing to his church of Gentile converts says this: "But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for God's own possession . . ." (1 Pet 2:9). These four images are lifted straight from Israel's Scriptures, former descriptions of Israel now applied to the church.

Yet the NT writers, in looking back to tradition, were not imprisoned by it. After all, the language of Israel's Scriptures was Hebrew, but no common person (least of all the Gentiles) knew how to read Hebrew. Thus, the NT is written in Greek, the language that everyone knew. These tradition filled documents, full of imagery garnered from Israel's story, is presented to the people in a new medium, one which they were able to understand and, as a result, the Gospel spread quickly in those first generations. When Greek fell out of use in the West in the second and third centuries, the Scriptures were translated once again into the common language (Latin).

Unfortunately, there have also been times when the church has failed at this struggle. For centuries in the middle ages, the church kept the Scriptures locked away from the people by refusing to allow it to be translated from Latin (though no common person read or spoke Latin by this time). Church leaders had begun to confuse its tradition (the story of the Scriptures) with the form of that story, the Latin language. And incredibly, it persecuted those first brave souls who dared to translate the Latin Bible into the common language.

In our generation, it is evident that the same struggle goes on. While language might not be the focal point, the question remains vital: how do we make the faith understandable without losing its content. While the church in the middle ages erred on the side of tradition (thus failing to make it understandable to the people), I fear that many in our generation have erred on the other side. There are many examples today of those who would remove everything distinctive about the Christian faith so as to make it more attractive. A few examples:

1) The Old Testament is often hidden away as the dirty little secret. Instead of going to the effort of understanding what actually was happening in those pages, many preachers just skip over it and preach solely from the New Testament, if even that. But the loss of the Old Testament is the loss of a significant part of our story. In fact, the early Christians would have found a Christian faith without the Old Testament unintelligible. If we knew our story better, I suspect we would feel the same way.

2) The names of God are being changed. Instead of Father, Son, Holy Spirit, many are opting for titles like "the Divine" or "Sophia." While the intent behind these name changes is not necessarily bad and often times good (namely the concern for the marginalization of women in a patriarchal faith), I am not sure that changing the names of God revealed in Scripture is the best way to go about this. After all, I believe that Jesus reveals God as primarily a Father and he is best understood in the terms of that Father-Son relationship. To lose this metaphor is to lose a significant part of a traditional understanding of God.

3) My brother tells me that there is a church in his town which is considering removing all crosses from their premises in order to make it a more welcoming environment. Here is a church who has forfeited too much of tradition to make the faith more attractive. But if the cross has to be removed to do this, my question is what story are they teaching, what story are they living. A faith without the cross is not Christian. (One wonders if there would have been more resistance to the removing of the American flag from that church.)

This struggle is a necessary one, for as Christians, we are a people who are defined by our story, by our past. And yet we are commissioned to take that story to the world, to the world that does not speak our language. How are we to do it?

The Sword of the Spirit

"Nothing can so banish licentious habits from the soul and restrain memories which disturb and stir up troubling flames in the body as can avid devotion to the love of learning and searching investigation into the meaning of the passages of Scripture."

-St. Isaac of Nineveh

Lion or Lamb? (Part 2)

A somewhat more helpful metaphor involving a lion and a lamb (see Part I) is found in Holy Scripture. Our Savior Jesus Christ is likened to both animals in various places. The ascription "lion" is often modified with "of Judah" and it comes originally from Genesis 49, where the Patriarch Jacob is pronouncing blessings upon his sons prior to his death. He has this to say of his son Judah: "Judah is a lion's whelp; from the prey, my son, you have gone up. He couches, he lies down as a lion, and as a lion, who dares rouse him up? The scepter shall not depart from Judah . . ." Judah is the tribe of Joseph, the father of Jesus. Thus, through the kingship of Jesus, the prophecy that the "scepter shall not depart from Judah" is fulfilled. The imagery is first applied to Jesus by the writer of Revelation: "and one of the elders said to me: 'Stop weeping; the Lion that is from the tribe of Judah, the root of David, has overcome so as to open the book and the seven seals" (5:5). To call Jesus the Lion of Judah is to refer to his kingship, his worthiness to be king, and the protection which he offers his people.

We have an example of this in the lectionary reading for today, Luke 13:31-35: "Just at that time some Pharisees approached, saying to Him, "Go away, leave here, for Herod wants to kill You." And He said to them, "Go and tell that fox, 'Behold, I cast out demons and perform cures today and tomorrow, and the third day I reach My goal. Nevertheless I must journey on today and tomorrow and the next day; for it cannot be that a prophet would perish outside of Jerusalem. O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those sent to her! How often I wanted to gather your children together, just as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you would not have it! . . ."

In these verses, Jesus calls Herod a fox, evincing his craftiness and his desire to pick off sheep from the flock. Nevertheless, Jesus with the courage of a lion does not stray from his destination. Rather, he sets his face toward the city for he knows that unless he complete his work, rulers like Herod will forever rule and there will be no salvation for anyone. The Lion of Judah continues on to Jerusalem.

But there are also many places in Scripture where Jesus is referred to as a lamb. John the Baptist is the first to call him this, recorded in John's Gospel: "The next day (John) saw Jesus coming to him and said, 'Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!'" (1:29). The Baptist is, of course, drawing on imagery with which his hearers would have been instantly familiar. He is referring to the Jewish sacrificial cultus, the system which prescribed animal sacrifices for the forgiveness of sins. The shed blood of a pure lamb, the Israelites believed, would atone for their sins and thus assuage the wrath of God. The Baptist, before Jesus even begins his ministry, recognizes that Jesus is that pure lamb.

Interestingly enough, the writer of Revelation again picks up this imagery. The seer describes the first time he sees Jesus in his vision: "And I saw between the throne (with the four living creatures) and the elders a Lamb standing, as if slain . . ." (5:6). The English translations miss what I think the Greek portrays; a better translation might be: "a Lamb standing while slain." The point of this vision is that Jesus in heaven is a slain lamb. But that quality, namely that he has been slain, is the very quality that allows him to open the seals, that earns him the title "Lion of Judah."

We see this imagery, again, bear fruit in today's lectionary reading. Jesus heads to Jerusalem, we noted, with the courage of a lion. However, he indicates in the reading the manner in which he will save His people, and it is not an image of a conquering lion. Rather, he says: "O Jerusalem, Jerusalem . . . how often I wanted to gather your children together, just as a hen gathers her brood under her wings." Jesus likens himself to a Mother Hen! But I ask, what good is a Mother Hen in the face of a prowling fox? The only means the Mother has of saving her chicks is to offer herself as the fox's meal in lieu of the chicks. And this is exactly what Jesus does.

John's vision of the slain lamb in heaven forever reminds us that while it was the courage of a lion that led Jesus to Jerusalem, it was the sacrifice of a lamb which redeemed us.

Lion or lamb? (Part I)

We learned in kindergarten that March often comes in like a lion, but then goes out like a lamb. And then there are those great years where March comes in like a lamb and also goes out like a lamb. Unfortunately, there are also some tricky years when March comes in like a lamb but then goes out like a lion. But the real awful years are when March comes in like a lion and then goes out like a lion!

With all due respect to my mother (who was my kindergarten teacher), that whole lion/lamb thing really doesn't help us much.