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/.

Rounding the First Bend

Greetings Bloggers-

Once again, please forgive my extended absence from the Blog. My reasons are, of course, school related. But after several weeks of a fairly insane schedule, including many pages both written and read, many sentences of Latin translated, and much crippling self doubt, I'm happy to report that I made it through the first semester relatively unscaithed. And it was a success. The best news is that my work earned me a three credit scholarship for next semester, which is a blessing and will be much help to us this coming year. But beyond the papers, the grades, and the scholarship, the best feeling about finishing a semester is the sheer realization that I have finished, and that I was not conquered. To be sure, there were many points in this semester that felt like I would not finish - several were reported here and several were just shared between my wife and me, and of course the Lord in prayer. But that first hurdle is over, the first leg of the mile, and I find myself in a healthy place in the pack.

Another highlight of these past few weeks include traveling to The Woodlands, Texas to attend the Christmas Conference of the John Wesley Fellows. The John Wesley Fellowship is a scholarship that I was fortunate enough to receive last spring, and it is one of the main reasons that I am able to pursue the PhD. The express purpose of the Fellowship is to be a source of renewal for the United Methodist Church by funding scholars with a heart for the church that they might be placed in colleges and seminaries to train pastors who can go into churches and form Christians. At the conference, I was introduced to a number of fellow students who have a similar mind and heart as myself. Additionally, I was introduced to several world class scholars who are currently in the work of church renewal. I was privileged to hear a presentation from and talk to a man who was a student of the latre Henri Nouwen, an amazing Catholic theologian whose writings evidence a deep and abiding communion with God. I was able to reconnect with my friend, teacher, and mentor from Asbury, Rich Cornell, who is also pursuing a PhD. I found out at the conference that the Fellowship is a good deal more than a scholarship - it is a chance to be a part of a great community of scholars, the hearts of whom are all for the church.

And now I am on a month long break! My wife is rather jealous, though I think she enjoys that I am not cooped up in my office every evening. And despite my success in the PhD program, I cannot for the life of me beat her at a simple game of Backgammon. Needless to say, my grandfather would be proud of her.

For those of my readers who are still with me, expect more on a regular basis - I'll try to get in some blogging between Playtstation games and Christmas movies!