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.

A Beautiful Story

One of my favorite movies is A Beautiful Mind, a biopic about the renowned mathematician and Nobel Peace Prize winner John Nash. The movie opens with Nash's years in graduate school at Princeton, chronicling his failures and successes, as well as narrating the close relationship which developed between Nash and his roommate Charles Herman. After Princeton, it follows Nash through several years at Wheeler Labs at MIT, as he is married and becomes involved in a highly dangerous task of cracking the codes of Russians who are hiding a portable nuclear bomb. About halfway through the movie, Nash begins to be pursued by Russians and he becomes extremely paranoid. This culminates in his lecture at Harvard where he is forcibly sedated and taken captive by imposing men in dark suits. (If you have not seen the movie, stop reading - spoiler ahead.)

The next scene, Nash awakes to find himself in a mental institution. And through a conversation between Dr. Rosen, the head psychiatrist, and Nash's wife Alicia, the audience learns to their shock that Nash is schizophrenic and the story of the Russian code breaking, which had consumed the better part of the movie, was all a delusion. Moreover, his Princeton roommate Charles Herman, a character the audience had by now grown to love, was also a delusion. The audience is then taken on a journey through Alicia's searching to various places that Nash visited during his delusions. What had been a beautiful old mansion, where he had dropped off his code breaking research, was truly a dilapidated old house. What had been a highly sophisticated entrance system, was truly just a rusted out mailbox. All of Nash's research was still sitting in the drop box, never picked up, never opened. The audience learns with Nash and experiences with him his disbelief of the poignant words of his wife: "It isn't real."

This point in the movie, though midway through its plot line, entirely changes the story. After learning this information, the audience realizes that they are not watching a movie about Russian codes; rather, they are watching a movie about a schizophrenic man. Had a person stopped watching the movie prior to this point, he or she would have had an entirely different interpretation of the first half of the movie.

There is a striking parallel here to the story of Scripture. Imagine a person sitting down to read the Bible for the first time. Imagine further that this person had never heard of anything in its pages before. Not knowing where else to start, she starts at the beginning. As she reads along in the first few books it becomes clear to her what the story is about, a people group who is chosen and redeemed by their Covenant, Creator God. But like A Beautiful Mind, there is a crucial turning point two thirds through the story: "And the Word became flesh, and dwelt among us, and we beheld his glory, glory as of the only begotten from the Father, full of grace and truth."

These words, much like the words of Alicia Nash, change everything. When we go back and read the first part of the story, we see things differently, things we didn't see before are there and things we saw before are no longer there. For instance, if you read the first part of the story, you might be prone to think of the Creator God as one who sanctions war. But after reading the sermon on the mount and seeing the God on the cross, you realize that this is not true. If you read the first part of the story, you might think that the Creator God is an exclusive God, coming for only one group of people. But after you read the letters of Paul, you realize that Christ came for all people.

Whereas the Fathers, starting from the two disciples on the road to Emmaus, inherently understood the truth that the testaments cannot be read apart from one another, most biblical scholars and Christians today do not understand it. You see the misunderstanding every time an OT scholar insists that we must understand the OT as the Jews would have understood it. You see the misunderstanding every time someone argues for the death penalty or for war or for some other controversial point using verses from the OT with no concern for the coming of Christ. These kinds of arguments are the same as if someone argued for the reality of Nash's roommate Charles Herman having only seen the first half of the movie. Herman is, of course, not reality but one has no way of knowing that without watching the entire movie.

Of course metaphors are not exactly the same as that which they portray; therefore, metaphors by nature break down. Where this one breaks down is precisely in the category of truth. Whereas John Nash's turning point showed him that things in his life he had thought were real were actually illusory, the coming of Christ in the flesh shows that the stories of God and the prophecies therein are the only true thing.

Ashes to Ashes . . .

For myself and the hundred or so other worshippers around me, today's noon hour was one dedicated to contrition and repentance as we were led through the corporate prayers of the Ash Wednesday liturgy. After the communal prayers, each of us walked to the front and a cross of ash was marked on our forehead as the following words were spoken over us:

"Remember that from the ashes you came and to the ashes you will return."

The symbolism in this ancient Christian tradition is thick. The cross on the forehead comes from the Hebrew tradition of binding the law on the forehead prescribed in Deuteronomy. To them, this tradition symbolized the law consuming and controlling their minds. To us, the cross consumes and controls our minds - we think, we see, and we live cruciform. The ashes symbolize the dust of the earth from which we were made, and we realize through them that without the breath of God we would not have physical life and without the Spirit of God, we would not have eternal life (the word for Spirit in both Hebrew and Greek can also mean breath and wind).

Ash Wednesday is not a joyous celebration as many of our other feast days are. It is a day for remembering the abyss from where the Lord has taken you, of remembering and confessing your many sins, that they may be covered, and of the beginning of fasting to commemorate and to be conformed to the sacrifice of our Lord.

After service, I went back into the world conscious that the cross of ash on my forehead was visible to all. I made certain that I smiled a little bigger at people, I held the door open for more people, I was more patient with a slow library worker. All this because I knew that I would be identified with that cross on my forehead. I wonder why I am not always conscious of this identity? I wonder what the world would be like if all of us who identify ourselves with the cross lived as though there were always one of ashes on our foreheads.

Little Theophanies

This is Transfiguration Sunday, the last Sunday in the season of Epiphany and the high point of Christ's ministry on earth, when his true nature is revealed to the disciples on Mt. Tabor. This Wednesday is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent marking the forty day mourning period as the church moves toward Holy Week, corresponding to Christ's movement toward Jerusalem in the Gospels. The Gospel lectionary reading for today is Luke 9:28-43:

"Now about eight days after these sayings he took with him Peter and James and John, and went up on the mountain to pray. And as he was praying, the appearance of his countenance was altered, and his raiment became dazzling white. And hehold, two men talked with him, Moses and Elijah, who appeared in glory and spoke of his departure, which he was to accomplish at Jerusalem . . . a cloud came and overshadowed (the disciples); and they were afraid as they entered the cloud. And a voice came out of the cloud, saying, 'This is my Son, my Chosen, listen to him!"

To the ancient reader of Scripture, steeped in the Scriptures of Israel this text screams one word, THEOPHANY, which in parochial terms, simply means: "God showed up!" The ancient reader of Scripture would have thought theophany because Luke's text is laden with references to the first theophany, namely the appearance of God to Moses on Mt. Sinai in Exod 19:

"So it came about on the third day, when it was morning, that there were thunder and lightning flashes and a thick cloud upon the mountain and a very loud trumpet sound, so that all the people who were in the camp trembled."

God descended to Mt. Sinai and interacted with humans face to face for the first time since they had been cast out of his presence in Eden. He calls Moses up to the mountain who is enveloped in the cloud, much like the disciples, and gives him the instruction by which the people of God are supposed to live. And when Moses comes off the mountain, he is described thus:

"It came about when Moses was coming down from Mount Sinai (and the two tablets of the testimony were in Moses' hand as he was coming down from the mountain), that Moses did not know that the skin of his face shone because of his speaking with him. So when Aaron and all the sons of Israel saw Moses, behold, the skin of his face shone, and they were afraid to go near him."

The truth of the Transfiguration is that when humans commune with God, they experience His light, they are themselves transformed into the light of God. Modern readers of the Transfiguration text will either, at best, assume that Jesus shown because he was God himself or, at worst, dismiss the account as fantasy. But the ancient readers saw here the truth that when we commune with God, we are transformed into him by his light. That is, we become the PLACE of his presence, as Mt. Sinai was in the OT. We become, as it were, little Theophanies. God's light rests in us! And this was often seen to be the case. Consider the following examples:

1. The first martyr Stephen is taken before the elders and the scribes to give an account of the "lies" he has been preaching about Jesus. Soon he will give his final testimony and be stoned to death. He is described directly prior to the account thus: "And gazing at him, all who sat in the council saw that his face was like the face of an angel."

2. In the fourth century, there was an explosion of monastic aesthetics (we might call them hermits) who went off by themselves to the deserts of Egypt to find God. There are short little accounts written about these men. One such account reads as follows: "The Fathers used to say that someone met Abba Silvanus one day and saw his face and body shining like an angel and he fell with his face to the ground. He said that others also had obtained this grace."

3. Another account from the Desert Fathers reads as follows: "A brother came to the cell of Abba Arsenius at Scetis. Waiting outside the door he saw the old man entirely like a flame."

4. Macrina, the elder sister of the fourth century Fathers St. Basil the Great and St. Gregory of Nyssa, died in the presence of her young brother. Gregory describes the scene this way: ". . . the cloak was placed over the body. She shone even in the dark mantle; God’s power, I think, added even such a grace to her body that, exactly as in the vision I had while dreaming, rays of light seemed to shine out from her beauty."

These four examples show the truth known by the saints, that God "showed up" in Christ and that Christ now "shows up" in us. And to say that Christ dwells in us is a much more profound truth than I think we ever realize. For he no longer dwells on mountains, or in temples, or even in church buildings. He dwells in his followers, in those who have conformed their lives to his and in so doing, have made their bodies condusive to his presence. May each of us attain to this profound grace.

The Sum of Perfection

"Forget created things,
but their Creator, never;
the core attend forever;
love Him from whom love springs."

-St. John of the Cross

Together

In 115 AD, Ignatius, the Bishop of Antioch, was in chains on his way to Rome to be fed to lions in the Coliseum. On his way, he wrote several letters to different churches which provide an amazing glimpse into the life and values of the early church. One of those letters was to a fellow bishop named Polycarp. He encouraged Polycarp with the following description of God's church:

"Labor together with one another: struggle together, run together, suffer together, die together, rise together."

Amen. May it yet be so today.

The Importance of Context in Reading Scripture

I believe that in understanding the meaning of a story, context is everything. Nowhere is this insight more crucial than in our understanding of Scripture. Just as one would not be able to pick a paragraph out of a novel such as To Kill a Mockingbird and understand the meaning of the story, its comments on the rapant racism of the South in thr 1930s, so one cannot read a verse in Philippians and understand what Paul is saying in the letter, much less the entirety of Scripture.

This truth might seem self evident. Unfortunately, however, many current practices in reading Scripture encourage just this practice. We often read a verse or two for our quiet times, in no particular sequence, and think we understand without giving any thought to the context in which it is set. The context than becomes whatever we bring to the verse resulting in an interpretation that best fits what we need, but may or may not have anything to do with the actual biblical narrative. Pastors, unfortunately, often model this practice, by reading one or two verses (sometimes even a half of a verse) and then making a 40 minute sermon on some topic that evidences little resemblance to the Scripture. While we may here a nice message, we are nowhere closer to understanding Scripture, which is, afterall, the primary duty of preaching.

The following blog was written by Chuck Gutenson, a former professor of mine at Asbury. It is one of the best pieces I have read on the importance of understanding the context for understanding Scripture: Gutenson's Blog.

Studying the Bible or Reading Scripture?

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.

"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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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?"

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/.