The Great Conveyor

My wife and I are at the “empty nest” stage of life. This week, we're visiting my daughter and her fiancé, in Denver. They're to be married, in a little more than a month. Our son is coming down from Laramie to visit for the 3rd and 4th.

It is interesting, reflecting on the stages of life, what I call “the great conveyor.” People climb on the conveyor at birth, and pass through many stages: infant, toddler, little kid, big kid, young adult. The conveyor metaphor captures well the sense that we are carried forward, always forward, at a rate we can neither slow down nor speed up. What it fails to capture though, is the sense of discrete stages. Oh, you don't always notice the transitions, but they're there. My daughter is now at the stage of commitment. It's good to see that she chose (and was chosen) well.

And it is wonderful to see the bonds of commitment grow. Their individual life plans are blending into a common plan. They have their first dog, a Siberian husky puppy. There is both seriousness and joy that illuminates their lives right now. He's in professional school, she's working, and considering going back to professional school too. They'll take on student loans, but they're investing in themselves. They're good risks.

Summa

jh suggested that I should take a look at Aquinas, which I will admit is not prominent on the Lutheran syllabus.

For those of you who, like me, haven't tried to tackle the Summa, let me describe its organizational structure as being somewhat reminiscent of Wittgenstein's Tractatus.

Here's an early snippet, which illustrates the structure, where I ran into a roadblock:

[I.1.2] Whether sacred doctrine is a science?

Objection 1: It seems that sacred doctrine is not a science. For every science proceeds from self-evident principles. But sacred doctrine proceeds from articles of faith which are not self-evident, since their truth is not admitted by all: “For all men have not faith” (2 Thess. 3:2). Therefore sacred doctrine is not a science.

Objection 2: Further, no science deals with individual facts. But this sacred science treats of individual facts, such as the deeds of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob and such like. Therefore sacred doctrine is not a science.

On the contrary, Augustine says (De Trin. xiv, 1) “to this science alone belongs that whereby saving faith is begotten, nourished, protected and strengthened.” But this can be said of no science except sacred doctrine. Therefore sacred doctrine is a science.

I answer that, Sacred doctrine is a science. We must bear in mind that there are two kinds of sciences. There are some which proceed from a principle known by the natural light of intelligence, such as arithmetic and geometry and the like. There are some which proceed from principles known by the light of a higher science: thus the science of perspective proceeds from principles established by geometry, and music from principles established by arithmetic. So it is that sacred doctrine is a science because it proceeds from principles established by the light of a higher science, namely, the science of God and the blessed. Hence, just as the musician accepts on authority the principles taught him by the mathematician, so sacred science is established on principles revealed by God.

Reply to Objection 1: The principles of any science are either in themselves self-evident, or reducible to the conclusions of a higher science; and such, as we have said, are the principles of sacred doctrine.

Reply to Objection 2: Individual facts are treated of in sacred doctrine, not because it is concerned with them principally, but they are introduced rather both as examples to be followed in our lives (as in moral sciences) and in order to establish the authority of those men through whom the divine revelation, on which this sacred scripture or doctrine is based, has come down to us.

So here's the problem, as I see it. Aquinas argues that sacred doctrine is a science by moving the “articles of faith which are not self-evident” and “individual facts” of sacred doctrine to the “science of God and the blessed.” But simply naming the reservoir for these exceptional stipulations “the science of God and the blessed” does not make it a science, this must be argued. And indeed, any attempt to argue it runs into the same difficulty that Aquinas tried to evade by introducing it in the first place, as these exceptional stipulations are not any more self-evident or any less individual facts within this “higher science” than they were before.

And it seems to me that even though the proposition that Aquinas wants to establish must fall, there should be no difficulty in defining sacred doctrine as the application of reason to a well-defined collection of individual facts and articles of faith, e.g., individual facts as established by scripture, and articles of faith as established by the ecumenical councils. In modern nomenclature, this would make sacred doctrine an applied science as opposed to a pure science.

Thoughts?

Peace

Gift and Trust

The Evangelical Lutheran Church in America will consider a social statement this summer, Human Sexuality: Gift and Trust. As this social statement does not take a hard line against homosexuality, there is every expectation of controversy, and the expectation that we will be anathematized by some of our more conservative brethren. Again. While at the same time being accused of being milquetoast knuckle-draggers by our more liberal brethren.

So it goes. Christianity suffers from many divisions, with each side of every issue fully convinced in heart and mind that it is right. One of the great challenges that the ELCA faces is that so many of these fracture lines run through our synod, and issues of sexuality, especially the stance the church should take towards committed homosexual couples, are such issues. The draft social statement does not attempt to resolve these questions, but instead it tries to establish a clear scriptural and confessional framework for discussion going forward, and setting a tone of respect and consideration for all points of view.

The social statement is 35 pages long, but it deserves a slow and careful read. Mining quotes is a bit too easy—almost any sentence is quotable in some context. I'll include a few here that struck me. The first few deal with sexuality in the context of the individual relationships.

Page 10, lines 351-2. Sexuality finds expression at the extreme ends of human experience: in love, care, and security; or lust, cold indifference, and exploitation.

Page 11, lines 366-8. Sexual love—the complex interplay of longing, erotic attraction, self-giving and receiving defined by trust—is a wondrous gift. The longing for connection, however, also can render human beings susceptible to pain, isolation, and harm.

Page 11, line 378. Though sexual love remains God’s good gift, sin permeates human sexuality as it does all of life.

Page 13, lines 440-1. Sexual relationships may be among our most profoundly intimate, crucial, and self-giving expressions of trust.

The next few deal with “social structures that enhance social trust.” Here, the idea is that marriages are both social contracts, protected by civil law, and blessed by God. Thus, both society generally and the church specifically are bound into the relationship, and obligated to protect it.

Page 14, lines 501-2. Marriage is a covenant of mutual promises, commitment, and hope authorized legally by the state and blessed by God.

Page 14, lines 521-3. Because of promises of fidelity and public accountability, marriage provides a context of love, trust, honesty, and commitment within which a couple can express the profound joy of relationship as well as address the troubles they encounter throughout life.

People who want to excoriate the ELCA for its stance on divorce will find things to offend them on Page 15ff, beginning at line 537. People who find anything other than outright condemnation of homosexuality to be unscriptural can skip to Page 16, line 596, and begin their seething without delay. And our more liberal brethren can jump straight to Page 18, and stand appalled at our lack of decisiveness.

But for us, the Lutheran expression of the way of Jesus Christ, this is an important step forward as we continue to lead the march to modernity from the rear, with prayer, caution, and deliberate theological reflection.

Peace

Why I Believe, II

God intervenes in our world.

And because God intervenes in our world, many people have experienced God in direct ways. Over the course of more than three thousand years, they've passed their experiences along through the way that they've lived, through what they've written and said, and through a respect for the sacred that is the foundation for religion tradition.

The writings and stories that have been passed down to us reflect very different modes of though, and social structures. But a consistent picture is revealed through the old testament of a God who protects and loves us, and a humanity whose receptiveness to that message varied with their need. Finally, in the life and ministry of Jesus Christ, we learn God how tried to reach across the gulf that separates us from Him, and sent his son, our Lord. And we killed him. And we continue to kill him, but God loves us still.

The stories were written by men and women who had a direct experience of the divine. They anchor a long tradition. I don't believe that they got everything right, God is too big, and we are too fallible. But they got enough right to make sure that those who followed within their tradition would continue to struggle with what it means to live in relationship to a loving, merciful God.

Finally, am an heir to that tradition, which passed to me from both of my parents, and from my experiences in a succession of churches where the word of God was preached, and his sacraments offered. I believe that my wife and I have passed this tradition on to our children, and that they to struggle to live in relationship to a loving, merciful God. As an heir, I recognize both the privileges and responsibilities that come professing to follow Jesus, and the still greater challenges and rewards that come from actually trying to do so.

Peace

Why I Believe, I

In this, I am not going to consider actual evidence for the existence of God (I'll save that for a later post), instead, I want to address aspects of my personal philosophy—habits of my mind—that I believe have made me receptive to Christian belief.

I believe that we are capable of understanding much (if not all) of the world around us. I hope that as our understanding grows (and along with it our ability to impact the world), our wisdom will grow too.

I believe that reason is a guide to understanding, but that the world cannot be fully comprehended on the basis of pure logic alone. Instead, we must discover various physical laws, contingencies, etc. But as a mathematician, I believe that elegance is indicative of truth. Thus, the best applied theories derive a lot of observational evidence from modest non-tautological stipulations and a lot of pure reasoning. I.e., I believe that Occam's razor is a reasonable means for preferring one hypothesis over another.

For example, the theory of evolution explains a lot from a little. It not only explains the variation in species today, it explains how they've varied over time, and the relationship of historical species to current species. It explains why analysis of shared characteristics permitted Linnaeus to organize extant species into tree, and it explains why phylogenetic reconstructions based on DNA produce essentially the same tree. It makes testable predictions, e.g., that intermediate forms between fish and amphibians existed, which have subsequently been confirmed.

Contrast this to creationism, or it's illegitimate stepchild intelligent design, which attempts to explain only the variation in species today, and which makes no testable predictions.

Likewise, the theory of a loving God explains a lot from a little. It explains not only the existence of religion, but the miracle of faith. It explains why the physical constants of the Universe seem so finely tuned to enable life. It explains why humans who indulge in altruistic behavior are often satisfied by that behavior, whereas humans who indulge in selfish behavior often find only transient satisfaction.

Yes, there are other explanations for each of these, e.g., the “multiverse” hypothesis of cosmology, which ends up by arguing that life had to happen somewhere, and this is the place, but I am aware of no other common explanation for these diverse observations.

Yes, there is a little bit of Polkinghorne in these explanation, but I'll justify this by saying that he did a particularly good job of articulating what I already believed :-).

Peace

Being George Tiller

Kirby Olson asked, in a comment to What Makes a Christian? the following question:

By the way, do you think it's possible to be an abortionist like Dr. George Tiller and still be a Christian. Is he doing unto others? to the mother, yes, but what about to the babies?

It soon became clear to me that there was no way my reply was going to fit within the 4095 character limit for comments, and also no particularly sensible way to divide the reply into pieces. And so, a post.

I think the record is quite clear that Dr. Tiller was a Christian. I'd like to consider two more subtle questions, though, that I believe are at the heart of Kirby's question.

How did he reconcile his livelihood as an abortionist with his Christian beliefs?

It is not difficult to conjecture, although I think there are a lot of Christians who would disagree with some of his premises. I suspect he believed something like the following:

1. The value of a human life is a function of our investment in it and its potential, and the investment in an undesired fetus is minimal.

   We as society have invested a lot in the mothers, who might on average be a woman in her low-20's, with 12 years of compulsory education and 1-2 years of college. On the other hand, society as a whole has a fairly minimal investment in a fetus, and the great majority of that investment has come from the mother. To be blunt about it, she can probably make another if she wishes.

   Of course, this sort of thinking can easily lead to infanticide (which I distinguish from abortion by applying the obvious criteria), euthanasia, and even eugenics, so generally speaking people who believe in this way apply limiting threshold tests (you don't kill infants, you only euthanize those who request it, and where that request meets certain criteria, etc.). But the logical extreme of this kind of thinking is the society of “Logan's Run.”

   This kind of economic thinking pervades a lot of decisions about who lives and who dies, and you'd have to be extraordinarily naïve to believe otherwise. Consider, for example, that back when the military draft was active, we drafted men as they exited high school. We drafted men, because the biological ability of a society to replenish itself is proportional to of the number of females of child-bearing age, the number of men hardly matters so long as the female:male ratio doesn't fall too much below 10:1 (Remember Dr. Strangelove?! Come on guys, you know you were all suddenly very alert when you heard that line.). Or, as one of my hunting friends says, "if you want to thin the herd, you have to shoot the does." We don't draft younger men (in whom we have less of an investment) because they're not yet physically ready, and we don't draft them much older because we have a larger investment in them, and they've acquired responsibilities (care for a spouse and possibly children) that it would be expensive for society to provide for otherwise. I would argue that the education deferment of the Vietnam War was a particularly clear example of how this kind of thinking plays out in terms of governmental policy.

   I think it probable that Dr. Tiller believed that the “value” of a woman (to herself, if not society at large increased as a result of the procedures he performed. Maybe she'd be able to go back to college (and live an upper-middle class life) instead of having to go to work as a waitress to support herself and her child (likely consigning her to a lower-class life). He might have even thrown in the expected value of her offspring (not just the present fetus, but future children too). Being able to delay when you give birth might mean that the children she ultimately bore would be better fed, better educated, etc.

2. Fetuses are not yet human.

   The observations of various pro-life groups that they can feel pain, etc., would not have been material to this kind of thinking. After all, biologists often cause pain to laboratory animals, and no one thinks that their capacity for pain makes them human. In some ways, this mode of thinking parallels (1)—it believes that humanity is something that is acquired over time by biological animals of the species homo sapiens sapiens, along with societal value. In this kind of thinking, it is perfectly reasonable to say that a 12 year old is “more human” than a 3 year old. We'll set aside for now the special case of 15 year olds, who often seem less human (at least to their parents) than 12 year olds ;-).

   Again, this kind of thinking can, and historically did, lead certain cultures to infanticide, euthanasia, etc. But these steps are not necessary, and there are philosophically defensible positions that permit abortion, but preclude infanticide. To put it differently, yes, there's a slippery slope, but the grade is not steep, and there are plenty of good handholds for those who want to use them.

3. Abortion is not murder.

   While there's a lot of scriptural guidance on murder specifically, and violence generally, there's not a lot of scriptural guidance on abortion specifically. Indeed, you might want to read Numbers 5:11-28, which describes how a Priest should use an abortificiant as test of faithfulness for pregnant wives whose faithfulness is in doubt. Yes, the LORD told Moses to attempt to induce abortion in women whose faithfulness was in doubt.

4. Doctors decide when people die.

   Again, Doctors decide when people die. You probably don't think about this, and you probably imagine that that Doctors fight for life their patient's life until the very end. Death is part of life, and when possible, death is a medically managed process. Doctors, who understand all too well the alternatives, want “good deaths” for their patients. It would not surprise me if Dr. Tiller thought in these terms—that the prognosis for the fetus was a difficult life (after all, their mother's didn't want them, and this is a bad start for anyone), and this was a “managed” death, much quicker and less painful than their life of unrealized humanity would be expected to be.

5. He did not set out to be an abortionist, instead he was forced into this role by the anti-abortion movement.

   Please, hear me out on this one, which may seem counterintuitive.

   The testimonials I've read to Dr. Tiller on the more liberal blogs reflect a diversified obstetrics/gynecology practice. Abortion would have started out as a tiny part of that, and likely one that was limited to fetuses that were not viable or where abortion was necessary to save the life of the mother (e.g., ectopic pregnancies).

   But the record of attempted intimidation of Dr. Tiller (including a previous murder attempt in which he was shot in both arms, and legal harassment by the Kansas Attorney General, who abused the full power of his office to entangle Dr. Tiller in litigation) proves, if nothing else, that Dr. Tiller was a courageous, and indeed, possibly stubborn man. As his colleagues stopped doing abortions because they were intimidated, he became increasingly the only person in central plains who would perform the procedure.

   I think it is likely that the tactics of intimidation were less affective on the demand side of the abortion equation. The women seeking abortion would have been more desperate, and the anti-abortion terrorists (note that I am not using this phrase to imply that everyone who opposes abortion is a terrorist—but rather to separate the pro-life population into a very large proportion of ethical people who oppose abortion by nonviolent means, and a miniscule proportion of unethical people who use violence to achieve their ends) would have fewer opportunities and a lot less time to intimidate them. Thus, the effect of the activities of the anti-abortion terrorists is asymmetrical, reducing the number of people willing to perform abortions much more quickly than the number of women seeking abortion, and therefore necessarily increasing number of abortions performed by those who are sufficiently courageous to continue to perform them.

   It is clear the existence of a few doctors like Dr. Tiller who became de facto professional abortionists, is a consequence of violent anti-abortion terrorists. Indeed, this could have been their strategy all along—intimidate those whom you can, using the law, using violence, and by enlisting the nonviolent ethical pro-life people to demonstrate and maintain pressure, and finally, to murder the few that remain.

I want to be clear here—I buy into some of this, but not all of this. And the question isn't whether or not you or I agree with this kind of thinking, it is whether or not there exists a self-consistent set of beliefs that includes a reasonable interpretation of the Christian faith, and still allows one to practice a livelihood that involves abortion. I believe there is. A related question is whether or not there exists a self-consistent set of beliefs that includes a reasonable interpretation of the Christian faith that permits an armed man to shoot and kill an unarmed man while he worships in church, because he is following a particular, lawful, profession that you object to. Or the same, for people who support and arm that man, and have foreknowledge of his intent. After all, the question of whether abortion is murder is something over which people of faith disagree. But the question of whether or not murder is murder should not admit the same kind of variation.

Can Dr. Tiller can be saved?

This is for God to decide, not us. Dr. Tiller was Lutheran, and presumably he believed that he passed the “faith by grace” test. I am reluctant to try to delve into the mind of God as a judge. I believe him to be merciful (and I sincerely hope that this applies to me as well as to Dr. Tiller), but we must remember Isaiah 55:8, “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the LORD,” and remember to be humble. So, in the worlds of Iris DeMent, I'll just “let the mystery be.”

A question for ethical pro-life readers...

Why do you shelter and nourish murders in your churches? How do you reconcile that with your Christianity? Why do you try to focus the issue on the man that was murdered, as if by doing so you could create a justification for righteous murder?

Peace

What Makes a Christian?

Is a Christian someone who follows Jesus, e.g., proclaiming the good news of the kingdom of God, baptizing, taking up their cross, etc.?

Or is a Christian someone who believes certain things about Jesus, e.g., he died for our sins, or that he is one of the three persons of the Trinity, etc.?

It's certainly possible to say, “both,” but it seems to me that this is a two-masters kind of thing, and people who think of themselves as Christian tend to be mostly one or mostly the other. It seems to me that the church historically has tended to focus on the second definition, e.g., we Christians believe that Jesus is both human and divine, those heretics deny his divinity.

Without denying the importance of the second alternative, I believe we need to place more emphasis on the first.

Peace

The Power of the Sword

Today, I'd like to take a first pass with you, my friends, about a topic that I find difficult, in large part because this is a topic wherein I believe that Luther made serious errors. I refer specifically to the relationship between Christians and civil government.

Let me start by saying that the New Testament is deeply divided on this question.

In one corner, we have Jesus of Nazareth, Galilean peasant and carpenter.

It is worth considering for a moment what it meant that he was a carpenter. Some might think that carpentry is a profession, and this puts him one step higher in the class hierarchy of the time than mere merchants and farmers. A comfortable, but unlikely point of view. Farmers owned land. Fishermen owned boats and nets. The tradesmen of the towns were day laborers, people without land or capital. They were at the bottom rung of legitimate society, and were barely hanging on.

Jesus' public preaching was largely devoted to the concept of the kingdom of God, a vision of a radically just society centered on God, which he raised in contrast and opposition to the extractive government of Roman occupation and Jewish collaboration that oppressed him and people like him. And the Roman occupiers, assisted by their Jewish collaborators, killed him because of his message.

In another corner, we have Paul of Tarsus.

Paul was both a Jew and a Roman citizen. After his Damascus road experience, he would repeatedly use his Roman citizenship to appeal to the Roman governors for protection. Needless to say, his attitude towards Roman civil government was very different from Jesus'. Here is a hugely significant passage:

Romans 13:1-4 Let every person be subject to the governing authorities; for there is no authority except from God, and those authorities that exist have been instituted by God. Therefore whoever resists authority resists what God has appointed, and those who resist will incur judgment. For rulers are not a terror to good conduct, but to bad. Do you wish to have no fear of the authority? Then do what is good, and you will receive its approval; for it is God’s servant for your good. But if you do what is wrong, you should be afraid, for the authority does not bear the sword in vain! It is the servant of God to execute wrath on the wrongdoer.

Think about this for a moment. “For rulers are not a terror to good conduct, but to bad.” OK, Paul, how then do you reconcile Jesus' conduct with his treatment at Roman hands?!

This is not to say that Paul's position on this question was entirely opposed to Jesus'. Both realized that it would be counterproductive to use violence against the Roman regime. In Jesus' case, this meant a taking his message forcefully but peacefully to the center of Jewish collaboration, and therefore facing the certainty of death. He hoped that his death would change things. In Paul's case, he seems to have been more concerned for the safety of the tiny band of Christians then in Rome, and he did not want them to act in a way that bring them to the attention of the authorities. It is worth noting, of course, that the Romans killed Paul too. His confidence in the benign treatment men of good conduct could expect from authorities proved to be sadly mistaken in the end, a simple fact that people who like to quote this passage never seem to remember.

Finally, in the third corner, we have Martin Luther, a former monk, and a professor of Old Testament at the University of Wittenberg, under the protection of Prince Fredrick III, Elector of Saxony.

Martin, too, faced a deadly threat. His excommunication by the Catholic Church after the Diet of Worms meant that he was an outlaw, and someone that could be legally killed by anyone. So Luther would be drawn to a Pauline view—Fredrick was his protector. So for Luther, the government (which protected him) was good, and the Catholic Church (which threatened him) was bad. These views came into internal collision at the Diet at Augsburg, where his proxies faced the Holy Roman Emperor, Charles V, emphatically both Catholic and the personification of government. And while Charles would very much have preferred a Holy Roman Empire unitedly Catholic, he had his problems too, the Turkish siege of Vienna had just been lifted, and he feared they would come back and attack a Roman Empire divided by religious controversy. So Luther's protectors took a careful tactical approach. The would not give Charles what he wanted (an empire unitedly Catholic), but they would give him what he needed, a promise both of peace in the present, and their support in the war against the Turks.

Thus, the Augsburg Confession begins:

Most Invincible Emperor, Caesar Augustus, Most Clement Lord: Inasmuch as Your Imperial Majesty has summoned a Diet of the Empire here at Augsburg to deliberate concerning measures against the Turk, that most atrocious, hereditary, and ancient enemy of the Christian name and religion, in what way, namely, effectually to withstand his furor and assaults by strong and lasting military provision; and then also concerning dissensions in the matter of our holy religion and Christian Faith, that in this matter of religion the opinions and judgments of the parties might be heard in each other's presence; and considered and weighed among ourselves in mutual charity, leniency, and kindness, in order that, after the removal and correction of such things as have been treated and understood in a different manner in the writings on either side, these matters may be settled and brought back to one simple truth and Christian concord, that for the future one pure and true religion may be embraced and maintained by us, that as we all are under one Christ and do battle under Him, so we may be able also to live in unity and concord in the one Christian Church.

and later says

Of the Worship of Saints they teach that the memory of saints may be set before us, that we may follow their faith and good works, according to our calling, as the Emperor may follow the example of David in making war to drive away the Turk from his country. For both are kings.

A consequence of all of this has been a detachment by Lutherans from the political sphere, and a general acquiescence in the activities of the civil governments of their day. This was not especially problematic for Lutherans, until Hilter's government came to power. At this point, most Lutherans acquiesced, a moral lapse of historic proportion. Yes, we point with pride to Dietrich Bonhoeffer, whose (mostly) non-violent opposition to Hitler's regime would ultimately cost him his life, but at a point when the world needed more Bonhoeffers, he is our one example.

So where does this leave us? I think, first of all, we have to acknowledge that Paul got something important wrong—there are regimes which are so unjust that we must oppose them. But both Jesus and Paul were right in using non-violent techniques. History has judged people who used non-violent opposition to unjust regimes in a very positive way: Jesus himself, Bonhoeffer, Ghandi, and Martin Luther King, Jr., to name a few.

As a citizen of the US, I believe that our polity, in which we have a secular government (often, as now, lead by men of faith), which guarantees religious freedom, and which seeks to maintain an orderly society, is, of all the alternatives, the one most likely to be just.

But beyond this, I think that we need to participate actively in governments like ours. We simply cannot assume that they will act in just ways.

Peace

The Kingdom of God

Jesus' public preaching style was elliptic, even to the point of being cryptic. Scripture makes clear that his apostles were often unable to interpret his public preaching, despite their familiarity with his style, and relied on the private interpretations he offered later. In some cases, these private interpretations are preserved in scripture, but in many cases they are not. Our problem in trying to interpret Jesus' public pronouncements in those later cases is much greater than the apostles; for not only do we have a far more limited corpus of Jesus' teaching than they had, the public messages we do have have passed through many additional filters: the original gospel writers, the transmission of their works through many hands, our participation in a very different culture, and finally, the translation of the resulting texts into English.

A practical consequence of these difficulties is a lack of consensus over the most fundamental concepts of Jesus' preaching, two thousand years worth of the development of doctrine notwithstanding.

Today, I'd like to consider one of these concepts: the kingdom of God, or as Matthew calls it, the kingdom of heaven.

I believe it that Jesus was presenting the kingdom of God as an alternative to the earthly kingdom of Rome. His essential claim is that God deserves our complete allegiance, not the Emperor. This claim is easily adapted, mutatis mutandis as us math types like to say, to the present day. Indeed, the good news of Jesus' ministry is the coming of the kingdom of God.

Luke 4:43 ... he said to them, “I must proclaim the good news of the kingdom of God to the other cities also; for I was sent for this purpose.”

But what and where are the kingdom of God? In Jesus' language, the kingdom of God is near, or far. It is something that we might hope to enter, and indeed, unless we get our righteousness together, tax collectors and prostitutes might enter before us! It is the good news.

One interpretation of the kingdom of God comes from what might be called “great reward Christianity.” These are Christians who believe that their duty is to follow the law, to believe the right things about God/Jesus, and to endure, so that they might obtain personal salvation through a life in heaven. For Christians such as these, the kingdom of God is the great reward, essentially synonymous with an afterlife in heaven. The good news for them is that they get to go to heaven, whatever the disappointments of this life.

I am not this kind of Christian, and I consider this kind of thinking to be misguided. This is not to say that I consider great reward Christianity to be a ticket to hell, for I also believe that through the mercy of God, the afterlife will be a joy for the many and not the few. But I also believe that by failing to participate in the kingdom of God in this life, these Christians have not only failed to let the Word of God thaw their hearts, they've cheated themselves out of the joy that comes from being so close to God, even momentarily, that your will is submerged into his will.

So what do I believe? I believe that the kingdom of God is emergent in this world. I believe that when we act in just ways, e.g., protecting and providing for the weak and caring for God's creation, we bring the kingdom of God closer. And when we act in unjust ways, e.g., by failing to protect and provide for the weak, or by damaging God's creation, we drive the kingdom of God further away. I don't believe we will ever achieve a perfected kingdom of God on earth—our status as fallen beings won't allow that. And I don't believe we can ever drive it completely away—God is too powerful for that. But I do believe that we all benefit if it is closer, as we all suffer if it is further away, and that it is God's will for us that it be nearer rather than farther. In short, we are asked to provide our complete allegiance to God now, not later, and this means that we are to live our lives in the present as his agents in the world.

A common theme of the kingdom of God parables is the tremendous change that a little bit of the kingdom of God can have on the world. How else can we interpret the parable of the yeast, or the parable of the mustard seed? What can these parables possibly mean if kingdom of God refers only to the hereafter?

As for the afterlife itself, it is not something that I think about very much, and I think it gets much more attention in Christian thinking than it deserves. Indeed, I think we should limit ourselves to this: those who have served God on earth will have the opportunity to serve him in heaven, and those who have worshipped God on earth will have the opportunity to worship him in heaven. Probably others will too—it is for God to choose, and we know of his mercy and love. And just to be clear here, I am not advocating works righteousness, but I am advocating that we seek peace and justice in this world, and that we do whatever works that requires, not because this will result in our personal salvation (only Jesus acting through us can do that—Lutherans may insert the formula “by faith through grace,” which is the same thing), but rather because God wants us to.

Peace

Ascents and Descents

I am learning Koine Greek. This is not easy, as I do not seem to be particularly gifted when it comes to languages. This is work, but it must be remembered that work is not a bad thing. In my case, this is a timely discipline, and I am thankful for the opportunity to follow it.

In reading the following, please keep in mind that I am an utter beginner in Greek, albeit a beginner who is willing to take risks. I fully expect any response to this to be of the form, “of course, we've known that all along.” Or, “What cluelessness!” I don't mind, either way, so long as the case is argued well enough that I learn something from it.

Greek has a number of words that convey the sense of personal movement. I've learned ἔρχομαι, πορεύομαι, ἀναβαίνω, and καταβαίνω, to name four. I always wonder in such cases why a language has multiple words. In English, this sometimes means little more than that borrowings happened from different languages, but even in then, a particular choice can shed light on the speaker, and their level of education and/or pretension. But in a language like Greek, it is more likely that the difference is semantic rather than contextual, and therefore a higher likelihood that the choice has significance.

I want to focus now on two of the four words of motion above: ἀναβαίνω—to go up; and καταβαίνω—to go down. I was working through John 2, when I came across these words used in rapid succession: Jesus goes down from Cana to Capernaum, and then he goes up from Capernaum to Jerusalem. Why down? Why up? So I check out the map. OK, I get it. From Cana to Capernaum is a 700 feet drop in elevation, and from Capernaum to Jerusalem is almost 2400 feet of increase. So the up and down can refer to elevation, and the necessarily greater awareness that elevation changes will have among those who walk from one place to another. But is that the complete story?

The worlds ἀναβαίνω and καταβαίνω occasionally co-occur, when there is a desire to create a particular contrast. Here are some examples:

Mark 1:10 And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. (NRSV)

Here we have the attractive vision that the significance of Jesus moving up while the Spirit moves down is that they are moving towards one another. Matthew 3:16 is a parallel passage, which contains the same imagery. Somewhat surprisingly, Luke 3:22 contains only the image of the descending dove.

John 1:51 And he said to him, “Very truly, I tell you, you will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man.” (NRSV)

This recalls the story of Jacob's ladder, where the same juxtaposition occurs in the Septuagint:

Genesis 28:12 And he dreamed that there was a ladder set up on the earth, the top of it reaching to heaven; and the angels of God were ascending and descending on it. (NRSV)

In translations, ἀναβαίνω is often rendered as “come up” to express ordinary human motion involving a change of elevation, whereas it is “ascend” when there is a spiritual objective, or a supernatural agent involved. Jerusalem, because of its physical situation, is a location that you ἀναβαίνω to, or καταβαίνω from. You don't ἔρχομαι to Jerusalem. I want to argue that there is a theological pun here, which is more visible in Greek than in English translations.

We know that the Bible often understands that there exist two Jerusalems: the Jerusalem of everyday experience, an imperfect earthly Jerusalem which is often the target of prophetic wrath; and the heavenly Jerusalem, where God reigns, and love and justice are perfected. Yet these two Jerusalems coexist, and might even be viewed as coincident in space. Thus, perhaps it is better to say that Jesus ascends to Jerusalem, prefiguring his ultimate ascent into heavan.

Peace

The Opposite of Love

If you search for “the opposite of love,” you'll find a variety of opinions.

The obvious answer, of course, is that the opposite of love is hate. But there are other answers. According to Elie Wiesel, the opposite of love is indifference. His perspective certainly demands consideration.

But the formula that appeals to me is that the opposite of love is fear. Oddly enough, I first encountered this in a book about war—Google confirms “Gates of Fire,” a fictionalized account of Thermopylae—where the question was first posed the other way around: The opposite of fear is not courage, but love.

This is at first surprising, but if you work on it a bit, it makes sense. We know the fruits of love:

1 Corinthians 13:4-7 Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

The exercise of negating each of these properties, and attributing it as a fruit of fear is left as an exercise to the reader. Moreover, this is a position that has scriptural support:

1 John 4:18 There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear; for fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not reached perfection in love.

It seems to me that we have become a nation driven by fear. Fear of terrorism. Fear of job loss. Fear of disease -- be it HIV, or H1N1. Fear of change. Fear of government. Fear of the other. Sometimes, fear of all of these, all at once. We fear that the government we fear will fail to inspire fear into the terrorists we fear.

Fear drives out the possibility of love. It eliminates the possibility that we can convert enemies into friends. It makes us weak, vulnerable, and far indeed from the Kingdom of God.

2 Timothy 1:7 for God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline.

Galatians 5:22-23 the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

Stated equivalently, the Spirit gives us love, with all of love's fruits.

It is time, time and past time, for us to set aside this childish thing called fear, and to take up our gift as Spirit-filled Christians, and love.

Peace

The Change We Seek

During the recent US Presidential Election, candidate Barack Obama used the motto “The Change We Need.” The motto resonated with many in the electorate; I know that it resonated with me. And change we've gotten, to the delight of some and the consternation of others. Our government's policies were what they were, and now they are changing, at least in certain regards. But is change limited to the political sphere actually the change we need? Of course not, even though it is the only kind of change an election can reasonably be expected to deliver.

In my previous posting, Plurality, I suggested that we consider the question, “What is the proper role for Christians in society?” G. M. Palmer proposed

1. to love, and
2. to teach how to love.

This seems like a good starting place.

Mark 12:28-34 One of the scribes came near and heard them disputing with one another, and seeing that he answered them well, he asked him, “Which commandment is the first of all?” Jesus answered, “The first is, ‘Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one; you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.’ The second is this, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.” Then the scribe said to him, “You are right, Teacher; you have truly said that ‘he is one, and besides him there is no other’; and ‘to love him with all the heart, and with all the understanding, and with all the strength,’ and ‘to love one’s neighbor as oneself,’—this is much more important than all whole burnt offerings and sacrifices.” When Jesus saw that he answered wisely, he said to him, “You are not far from the kingdom of God.” After that no one dared to ask him any question

OK, so here's a thought experiment. If we were to poll non-Christians as to what they thought was characteristic of Christians, how likely do you think it is that one of the two principles enumerated above would be mentioned? Will they know we are Christians by our love? I don't think so.

And here's a practical experiment: I went to news.google.com, and searched for “Christian.” Ignoring stories about people whose first name Christian, and political stories about the Christian Democratic Party, and the like, here are the first ten stories that I found (honest folks -- I dreamed up the experiment first, and the number 10):

1. Judge: Christian group can't walk with literature at Arab festival ...
2. JAMES P. PINKERTON: Anti-Christian Bigotry at The Washington Post
3. Christian churches fighting each other
4. First Christian Church Women's Circle
5. Jesus! Christian Artist's Company Stuck With $2.1 Million Legal ...
6. Conservative Christians: Obama's Gay Benefits Order Approximates ...
7. Singer brings Christian country music
8. Protests Continue to Spread in Iranian Election Aftermath
9. Opinion: Can Christian citizenship survive?
10. Christian group sues for right to burn gay teen novel

Interesting list, isn't it? There are some articles in here that I think are worth reading (3,8,9), and a couple of personal-interest pieces (4,7). I think the conservative Christian leaders in (6) are misguided, but they're definitely entitled to their positions, which were stated in much more civil and restrained language than I expected. But what can you say about the rest (1,2,5,10)? And sadly, you don't find the word “love” very often, and really only in a positive way in #9.

It seems to me that the public face of Christianity is a face of condemnation. Christians condemning non-Christians, and Christians condemning other Christians who think differently than they do. Of course, we all know that missions of mercy and compassion sustained over generations generate very few news stories, and therefore there is a natural negative bias to the news. But I don't think that our problem is merely a matter of bringing our external image into accord with our actual selves.

The change we should seek first is within ourselves.

Peace

Plurality

Why are there so many religions?

I had the privilege to hear John Polkinghorne speak a few months ago. He was in Chicago for the AAAS Conference, and came to the University at the invitation of a half-dozen Lutheran and Anglican groups. Polkinghorne has a dramatic C.V.: he's both a Fellow of the Royal Society (in recognition of his work in quantum mechanics) and an Anglican Priest. But more than anything, he is a thoughtful commentator on religion, science, and their interaction.

One of the questions he posed, but did not answer, concerned the multiplicity of religions in the world. The issue here isn't the relatively minor divisions with Christianity, but the far greater diversity of great religions: Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, Zoroastroism, Jainism, Taoism, Sikhism, Bahá'í, and others.

We can try to rationalize the existence of so many different religions by saying that God manifested himself to all nations, and that each nation explained that manifestation in somewhat different ways. The problem with this kind of thinking is that if you restrict yourself to what is common to great religions, it's not much.

Even so, I'd like to float a hypothesis for thoughtful discussion.

Paul uses the metaphor of the body (e.g., 1 Corinthians 12:12-30), and the essential role that different parts of the body play in the functioning of the whole body, as a way to explain why, even as the Spirit grants different gifts to different people, enabling them to serve in different roles, all roles are important, and all of the members of the body of Christ are honorable.

Perhaps this is true of different religions as well. We should have no difficulty with the notion that Judaism continues to prosper because it's part of God's plan. There are copious verses in both the Old Testament and New that support this (e.g., Romans 11:26). Perhaps it is Judaism's place to serve as witness of God's purity. But perhaps other religions have particular roles too.

Remember that Jesus instructed us to “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit” (Matthew 28:19, NRSV). This, and sayings like it, drive Christian missionary work. But maybe we've come closer to succeeding than we think. We tend to think not, because we haven't made disciples of all people, but maybe that's not the point. Maybe the point is that whatever it is that Christians are specifically intended by God to do, needs to be done in all societies. And maybe this is characteristic of all “true” religions, and so we shouldn't be surprised or offended by the existence of Buddhist Americans, or Islamic Americans. Maybe that's part of God's plan too.

This hypothesis is no excuse for slacking off on Christian missionary work. I don't think that there is any society today that has too many Christians, and certainly in the countries that we tend to think of as the “Christian west,” many have fallen away and have no religion at all. The potential harvest grows larger each year!

But I think that this hypothesis, whether we accept it or not, should give us cause to think hard about the question, “What is the proper role for Christians in society?” Indeed, this blog exists as a vehicle for trying to understand that very question, in more specific contexts. A very nice starting point can be found in the lyrics to the Taizé song, “The Kingdom of God,” which, even though I didn't know of it until a few days ago, is now the de facto theme song of this blog.

The Kingdom of God is justice and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit Come, Lord, and open in us the gates of your kingdom. (copyright © Ateliers et Presses de Taizé, 71250 Taizé, France)

I gratefully acknowledge permission from Ateliers et Presses de Taizé to quote these lyrics. Their response to my request was prompt and generous, and noted that “the lyrics are based on Rm 14:7 with an echo of Ps 118:19.”

Peace

Diversity and Division, III

What is necessary for Christian Unity?

This is a question that very much concerned the German princes and theologians, in those early days of the reformation, when they feared a breach with the Catholic Church, but feared their consciences even more. Their conclusion:

Augsburg Confession, Article VII — Concerning the Church. It is taught that at all times there must be and remain one holy, Christian church. It is the assembly of all believers among whom the gospel is purely preached and the holy sacraments are administered according to the gospel.

For this is enough for the true unity of the Christian church that the gospel is preached harmoniously according to a pure understanding and the sacraments are administered in conformity with the divine Word. It is not necessary for the unity of the Christian church that uniform ceremonies, instituted by human beings, be observed everywhere. As Paul says in Ephesians 4: “There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to the one hope of your calling, one Lord, one faith, one baptism.” (quoted from the Kolb-Wengert edition of the Book of Concord, as translated from the German text.)

I think they got it right. This is a remarkably irenic passage. They do not identify the one holy, Christian church with their churches, nor do they in any way deny that the Catholic Church is a part of the one holy, Christian church. They clearly see this one holy, Christian church as something that transcended the divisions that were so painfully evident in their day, and so sadly remain in ours. Instead, they focus on the essentials: the assembly of all believers, the preaching of the gospel, and the sharing of the sacraments.

Now, the precise number of the sacraments (in both Lutheran and Catholic circles) has varied. But the big two in terms of Christian unity—Baptism and the Eucharist—have always been full citizens in both lists.

Peace

Diversity and Division, II

Let's take a closer look at 1st Corinthians 11, per jh's suggestion. All quotations are from the NRSV (an English language witness for the churches of the conservative reformation). I have examined NJB (an English language witness for the Roman Catholic Church), and find, unsurprisingly, no great difference between them.

1 Corinthians 11:1 Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ.

This verse appears to refer back to the discussion of 1st Corinthians 10, about food sacrificed to idols, and Paul's injunction that we should not use Christian freedom as a justification for actions that will be harmful to others.

1 Corinthians 11:2 I commend you because you remember me in everything and maintain the traditions just as I handed them on to you.

This is an interesting and possibly important verse. By the principal of locality, it should group with the material immediately preceding or following, but the emphasis on traditions (rather than love) makes it a poor match for the section on eating food sacrificed to idols. So it must look forward.

To my eyes, the organization of the material in 1 Cor 11 is a bit jumbled. But in terms of content and tone, it seems to me that this particular verse must have been originally written as a prelude to 1 Cor 11:23ff: do what I did (1 Cor 11:2), because what I did came from the Lord (1 Cor 11:23). It is almost as if Paul was in the midst of writing one letter to the Corinthians, when he received a new letter from Corinth that informed him of difficulties in the new community, leading him to a hasty reworking of his letter-in-progress to address these problems.

But if we take this verse in situ, as referring to 1 Cor 11:3-16, it presents interesting presents problems and opportunities both for jh and for me. I'd be happy about women leading worship as a church tradition, while jh might not be. I believe that jh would be happy about traditional gender roles (e.g., the husband is the head of his wife), which I don't think deserve the imprimatur of 1 Cor 11:2.

1 Corinthians 11:3-16 But I want you to understand that Christ is the head of every man, and the husband is the head of his wife, and God is the head of Christ. Any man who prays or prophesies with something on his head disgraces his head, but any woman who prays or prophesies with her head unveiled disgraces her head—it is one and the same thing as having her head shaved. For if a woman will not veil herself, then she should cut off her hair; but if it is disgraceful for a woman to have her hair cut off or to be shaved, she should wear a veil. For a man ought not to have his head veiled, since he is the image and reflection of God; but woman is the reflection of man. Indeed, man was not made from woman, but woman from man. Neither was man created for the sake of woman, but woman for the sake of man. For this reason a woman ought to have a symbol of authority on her head, because of the angels. Nevertheless, in the Lord woman is not independent of man or man independent of woman. For just as woman came from man, so man comes through woman; but all things come from God. Judge for yourselves: is it proper for a woman to pray to God with her head unveiled? Does not nature itself teach you that if a man wears long hair, it is degrading to him, but if a woman has long hair, it is her glory? For her hair is given to her for a covering. But if anyone is disposed to be contentious—we have no such custom, nor do the churches of God.

This is an interesting passage, and one that gets bent in service of a variety of agendas in the general area of gender relations. I think that Borg and Crossan in “The First Paul” have a sensible way of handling this passage, but I'll set it aside for now.

1 Corinthians 11:17-22  Now in the following instructions I do not commend you, because when you come together it is not for the better but for the worse. For, to begin with, when you come together as a church, I hear that there are divisions among you; and to some extent I believe it. Indeed, there have to be factions among you, for only so will it become clear who among you are genuine. When you come together, it is not really to eat the Lord’s supper. For when the time comes to eat, each of you goes ahead with your own supper, and one goes hungry and another becomes drunk. What! Do you not have homes to eat and drink in? Or do you show contempt for the church of God and humiliate those who have nothing? What should I say to you? Should I commend you? In this matter I do not commend you!

I think that this was the passage that jh was actually pointing to, as it refers to divisions in the Corinthian church. The problem here appears to be that within the Corinthian church, the agape feast (the precursor to our communion/mass) amounted to several co-located picnics. Each party brought its own food and drink: the rich feasted, while the poor went hungry. I dare say that “prosperity gospel” churches have little use for this passage!

My personal opinion is that we've gone too far in reacting to the criticism that Paul makes here of the Corinthians, in that in our services, the elements represent only a symbolic witness to a feast. Jesus knew that when people ate and drank together, it broke down the barriers between them. It is a shame that our worship does not necessarily accomplish this. Indeed, I think that the standard Lutheran emphasis on communion as a means for forgiveness of sins results in an underemphasis on communion as fellowship creating and identifying sacrament. In my opinion, the ideal form for communion would be a meal embedded within a worship service—one part Mass, one part pot-luck. But this is both a digression and a personal heresy, as well as a tremendous logistical challenge for worship and music committees.

The problem in Corinth was that the very thing that was supposed to symbolic of and instrumental in bringing the community together (the agape feast) had become a vehicle for emphasizing social distinctions. And here, I believe, is where jh's position has the most traction. How can we preserve Christian unity, in the face of differences in worship style and tradition?

1 Corinthians 23-26 For I received from the Lord what I also handed on to you, that the Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took a loaf of bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, “This is my body that is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” In the same way he took the cup also, after supper, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.” For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.

The earliest witness to the Words of Institution. It appears to me that these words were intended to frame the agape feast—bread at the beginning, wine at the end, extending the traditional Jewish pre- and post-meal blessings. Again, it seems to me that these are the verses that Paul is pointing to in 1 Cor 11:2, when he spoke of preserving traditions.

1 Corinthians 11:27-32 Whoever, therefore, eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be answerable for the body and blood of the Lord. Examine yourselves, and only then eat of the bread and drink of the cup. For all who eat and drink without discerning the body, eat and drink judgment against themselves. For this reason many of you are weak and ill, and some have died. But if we judged ourselves, we would not be judged. But when we are judged by the Lord, we are disciplined so that we may not be condemned along with the world.

When I was young, this passage was used to justify the Lutheran practice of first communion following confirmation, typically at the end of the eighth grade year (making confirmation remarkably like a Lutheran Bar Mitzvah). The point was it required education to understand communion, and thereby to guarantee that it would not be taken “in an unworthy manner.” More recently, the interpretation of this verse has tended to focus on the earlier section (1 Cor 11:17-22), and with this has come a freedom to offer communion to younger children, although standard Lutheran practice still requires a brief course as preparation. I don't know what current Roman Catholic practice is, but I expect it is what the older Lutheran practice followed. But here is a curiosity—the Orthodox churches do First Communion as a part of the baptismal service, offering the elements of bread and wine become body and blood to infants. Lutheran practice thus seems to be drifting from Catholic towards Orthodox, although the requirement of pre-communion education still makes it feel more Catholic than Orthodox, even as my daughter (now an adult) had her first communion at age five.

1 Corinthians 11:33-34 So then, my brothers and sisters, when you come together to eat, wait for one another. If you are hungry, eat at home, so that when you come together, it will not be for your condemnation. About the other things I will give instructions when I come.

Final exhortations on the subject of the agape feast, with emphasis on the particular issues of the Corinthian community.

To be continued...

Peace

Diversity and Division, I

Commenting on Liturgy, jh suggested that 1st Corinthians 11 might have been more appropriate than 1st Corinthians 9 as a scriptural basis for discussion variation in worship practices. Although I continue to prefer 1st Corinthians 9 in this context, he does have a point.

Rather than dig straight into 1st Corinthians 11, I'd like to introduce a standard Lutheran concept, adiaphora (ἀδιάφορα), or matters of indifference, because I think it frames two distinct and essential tensions in this discussion. Adiaphora is the principle that doctrine should restrict itself to matters that are necessary for salvation. To which a confessionally literate Lutheran would instinctively add “and good order,” perfect proof, as if proof were needed, that the Lutheran confessions were written by Germans.

The pro-diversity side of this issue, represented by my original post, wants to use every tool available to bring people to Christ. For example, our faith does not mandate salvation by organ music. It does not prohibit guitars, bluegrass, or jazz, or even Ibo drums. Adiaphora constrains us not to turn instrumental preferences into doctrinal roadblocks.

The anti-division side, represented by jh's comment, and where 1st Corinthians 11 finds application, is that diversity in practice can create and sustain divisions in belief. And Christian unity is not a matter of indifference.

I hope that I am not forcing words into jh's mouth. In any event, I'm eager to concede both points that I ascribe to him in the preceding paragraph. So from my perspective, the question becomes one of accommodating as much diversity as possible while providing for mechanisms that create and sustain unity in belief. But I'm not confident that jh would be comfortable within such a framework, because the Roman Catholic Church does not accept a parsimony principle such as adiaphora to limit the scope of its doctrine.

Christian unity is important, not easy.

Peace

Tax Collectors and Sinners, III

Matthew 9:10-13 And as he sat at dinner in the house, many tax collectors and sinners came and were sitting with him and his disciples. When the Pharisees saw this, they said to his disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?” But when he heard this, he said, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. Go and learn what this means, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.” (NRSV)

This interaction has a distinctly different texture than the typical Jesus-Pharisee interaction of the Gospels, and especially Matthew. Although Jesus does criticize the Pharisees, “Go and learn what this means, … ,” he is also flattering them as well, implying that they are not spiritually ill. I am, of course, aware that many read this implication as ironic, rather than irenic, but it might be better to read it as intending both. Jesus was marvelously adept at disarming his opponents, and he did so not with weapons that cut flesh, but with words that cut to the heart. This is a skill we would do well to emulate.

Peace

Tax Collectors and Sinners, II

Matthew 9:10-13 And as he sat at dinner in the house, many tax collectors and sinners came and were sitting with him and his disciples. When the Pharisees saw this, they said to his disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?” But when he heard this, he said, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. Go and learn what this means, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.” (NRSV)

Why was Jesus eating with tax collectors and sinners?

Jesus provided his own exegesis: he was a spiritual physician, come to tend to the needs of spiritually sick. And like the prophets before him, his emphasis was on mercy—what today we might call social justice—rather than on mechanical observances of the law.

Borg and Crossan (and I can hear the eyes of some of you rolling now, but please bear with me) push this in an interesting way. Judaism makes purity (a.k.a. cleanliness) a central concept, ascribing purity both as a primary attribute of God, and as a prerequisite for humans who want to approach God. This is largely operationalized by avoidance of contact with impure things, and by observances through which an individual who had become impure might regain ritual purity. The Pharisee's question, in a style that today we might call concern trolling, asks, “Why does your teacher voluntarily surrender his ritual purity through contact with the impure?,” and “Why do you chose to follow someone who is impure, and who involves you in impurity?” Jesus's counter-argument involves a fundamentally new understanding of contagion, in which contact with God's purity makes impure things become pure. This is a beautiful metaphor for the Kingdom of God in the world, and sets the expectations we should have for ourselves.

I'd like to take this is a somewhat different direction. We're often taught that sin does not consist of actions that are displeasing to God, but rather to a state of broken relationship with God. Concisely, sin is separation from God. Yet in the story above, it was the tax collectors and other sinner who were eating with Jesus Christ, and the Pharisees who were not. Who then was separated from God? And who was in relationship with him?

So what does this mean for us today? I think we are too hasty to judge people around us, and to view people who's differing circumstances have lead to different choices as “sinners.” I do not doubt the power or ubiquity of sin, but I think that too often, we see mere difference as a sin, and rush to judgments that we ought not be making. And I am even more convinced that we should not for a moment think of our churches as “God's club for the righteous,” lest we join the Pharisee of Luke 18:11, and pray, “God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector.” Instead, let our churches be open to all who seek God.

Peace

The Wages of Sin ...

Today's posting is a reflection on Tuesday's attack on the Holocaust Museum in Washington, D.C. The basic facts of the matter will surprise few: a white-supremicist felon illegally obtained a rifle, and took it to the Holocaust Museum to kill. And kill he did. His victim was an African-American security guard, Stephen T. Johns, who died protecting others. Mr. Johns was described as a “warm man with a wonderful smile who acted courageously.”

Rom. 6:23 For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord. (NRSV)

I'll let the English Professor explain why it's “wages … is,” and not “wages … are.” But possible subject-verb disagreement in the translation notwithstanding, who among us doubts that our life of sin ends in death? Or that death is a consequence of sin?

Yet Tuesday's tragic events show that there is no simple correspondence between sin and death. Mr. Johns died, not as a consequence of his sin, but as a consequence of the sin of his murderer. And the murder's underlying sin was hatred—a vile, long-standing and long-nurtured hatred of Jews and African-Americans. Those who nurtured the murderer in his hatred bear an awful responsibility, for just as the murder loaded, aimed, and fired his rifle, they loaded, aimed, and fired the man.

The following poem, “Prologue, intended for a Dramatic Piece of King Edward the Fourth,” by William Blake seems sadly apropos.

O for a voice like thunder, and a tongue To drown the throat of war! When the senses Are shaken, and the soul is driven to madness, Who can stand? When the souls of the oppressed Fight in the troubled air that rages, who can stand? When the whirlwind of fury comes from the Throne of God, when the frowns of his countenance Drive the nations together, who can stand? When Sin claps his broad wings over the battle, And sails rejoicing in the flood of Death; When souls are torn to everlasting fire, And fiends of Hell rejoice upon the slain, O who can stand? O who hath caused this? O who can answer at the throne of God? The Kings and Nobles of the Land have done it! Hear it not, Heaven, thy Ministers have done it!

In the face of hatred, who can stand?

We can stand. We must stand.

Peace

Liturgy

1 Corinthians 9:19-23 For though I am free with respect to all, I have made myself a slave to all, so that I might win more of them. To the Jews I became as a Jew, in order to win Jews. To those under the law I became as one under the law (though I myself am not under the law) so that I might win those under the law. To those outside the law I became as one outside the law (though I am not free from God’s law but am under Christ’s law) so that I might win those outside the law. To the weak I became weak, so that I might win the weak. I have become all things to all people, that I might by all means save some. I do it all for the sake of the gospel, so that I may share in its blessings. (NRSV)

In the comments on My Tribe, jh raised the issue of liturgy, and in particular of the Roman Catholic Church's interest in Eastern Rite Liturgies. The Lutheran and Anglican Churches use liturgies that are recognizably derivative of the Catholic Mass, enough so that it is easy for people who are accustomed to one to follow along in an other. My personal inclinations in such matters are perhaps best witnessed by my favorite hymn, “Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence,” which comes from the Divine Liturgy of St. James. I am in so many ways a traditionalist, and within that, a seeker of ancient alternatives.

I see in traditional liturgies a number of admirable qualities. By participating in these liturgies, we feel connected not only to past and future generations, and thereby to the church triumphant, but also to the worship of heaven itself. Through repetition, the tones, the cadences, the images, and even the smells become identified with worship, and so help contribute to the sense of worship.

But I think that Paul's words above contain a message for us: we should be all things to all people, so that by all means some might be saved. In my opinion, the best form of worship for anyone is the form that brings them to and keeps them in Christ, and thus diversity in humanity more than justifies a diversity in worship styles. Indeed, I find value in participating in worship styles very different from those that I am accustomed to, as each speaks to me in a different way, even as I return to traditional forms for my regular worship.

The Spirit moves when, where, and how it wills.

Peace

Tax Collectors and Sinners, I

Matthew 9:10-13 And as he sat at dinner in the house, many tax collectors and sinners came and were sitting with him and his disciples. When the Pharisees saw this, they said to his disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?” But when he heard this, he said, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. Go and learn what this means, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.” (NRSV)

WW, commenting on “What is to prevent me from being baptized?” remarked that she liked to reflect on the Gospels, and on how Jesus welcomed all to his table, even tax-collectors and sinners. A similar observation was made by jh, who remarked that “from the beginning the attraction of christianity was the openness to people as they were.” Amen to that, sister and brother.

I'd like to chew on this passage (and implicitly on related passages), in a sequence of postings.

Today we consider the question, “Who were the tax collectors, and why did they chose to do a job that alienated them from their community?”

The usual starting point for answering this question is the notion of tax farming, in which an individual or group pre-paid the taxes for a certain area, thereby gaining the right to extract and retain taxes from it. This was an intrinsically speculative business: the opportunity for profit came from the possibility that they might extract more than they paid. To make money, you had to squeeze, hard. The assumption is that the tax collectors are the tax farmers, and that their motivation was simple profit—indeed, the Wikipedia article on tax farming that I linked to above identifies St. Matthew as a tax farmer. In this post, I will challenge that assumption.

Let me make my own assumption here. The Romans weren't interested in penny-ante tax farmers. They wanted money, they wanted it now, and they wanted it with as little trouble as possible. Yes, they could always fall back on the legions, but legions were expensive, and they inevitably injured the productive capacity of the regions in which they imposed their will. Common sense indicated that they wanted to work with a few people, each of whom had a lot of money, and had it available up front. In short, they wanted it from the rich. So who was both rich, and empowered by their collaboration with Rome? The Sadducees. Indeed, what we know of their theology—that there is no resurrection, and therefore no punishment or reward for how we live our lives—seems particularly well adapted for people whose livelihood depends on selling out their people.

How does the rich man in Jerusalem recoup the taxes he paid for northern Galilee? He doesn't go door to door, himself. And he certainly doesn't advertise that he's the guy who stands to profit. No, he hires overseers, and they hire the actual tax collectors. And for the tax collectors to be effective, they have to know the community from which they will collect taxes. So who lives in a community, and is willing to be engage in judicial robbery of their friends and neighbors? It must be someone who is truly desperate. Someone who has debts. Someone whose children are starving. Someone who is facing slavery. In short, someone who has only bad choices, someone who was already victimized by society.

And so we shoot the messenger, blame the victim, and call the tax collector a sinner, because any of these are easier than to recognize the ways in which our society is broken, our obligation to fix it, and to pay the price that we must pay to do so.

Jesus, blessed Jesus, took the hard way, the narrow way. The way that lead to Jerusalem, and from Jerusalem to Calvary. The way that leads us on.

Peace

A Prayer Journal

1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.

I am taking diakonia, a two-year course of study on Christianity and Christian service offered by a few of the synods of the ELCA. One of the recommendations that was made in my most recent class, coming from Bill Hybels's “Too Busy Not to Pray,” was to maintain a prayer journal. I've never been much for journals or diaries, but the suggestion was noted. We've also studied Dietrich Bonhoeffer's “Life Together,” in which Bonhoeffer suggested the praying of the Psalms as means of learning healthy prayer habits and structure.

Entirely coincidentally, my congregation has recently begun singing the Psalms again. I was asked to lead the responsive singing of the Psalms at our early service, making me de facto cantor. With this public role necessarily comes an increased respect for, and attentiveness to, the Psalms.

I've always been envious of contemplatives, and other people whose lives permit them adequate, defined, time and space to pray, study, etc. It hardly seemed possible for someone who lives a life that has as much chaos around it as mine does to satisfy, even in the most permissive sense, the injunction of 1st Thessalonians to pray without ceasing.

Finally, I recently read A. J. Jacobs's, "A Year of Living Biblically," in which he describes his experience in trying to live a prayer-filled life for a year, the extent to which he succeeded, and how doing so impacted his life.

This was a “perfect storm” for me. Although I've always enjoyed Bible study, I've never been much more than mechanical in my prayers, so I decided to do a mashup of Hybels's and Bonhoeffer's strategies. I'm going through the Psalms sequentially, one per day, praying them (or at least reading them slowly and with comprehension), and journaling as I go.

For me, this is working.

Some days, the journal entry is just a citation, e.g., Psalm 17. With increasing frequency, though, I write a longer entry, sometimes because the Psalm of the day seemed to speak to something that is happening in my life, and sometimes just because. And I now find myself much more inclined to pray at odd times of the day, and my prayers seem more flexible and certainly more spontaneous.

Peace

On the method of the blogger

Friends, with the serene perspective that can only come from having made five whole blog postings, this one included, I'd like to reflect a bit on my thoughts about going forward.

I think I'd like to keep my contributions to the comments section brief and focussed. There are at least three interconnected reasons why.

• Your comments seem to me to be a rich source for future postings. Given that postings are somehow more visible and flexible means of response than mere comments, it seems to me that if I have anything very extensive to say, it is better to say it in a post.
• I'd like to establish a certain pace to this blog, one that encourages seriousness of reflection, and encourages and values comments and the building of community. It is, my serene perspective notwithstanding, ridiculously early in my career as a blogger, and I am less than perfectly confident that I'll be able to maintain a consistent pace. Being able to bank my more substantial replies as posts gives me confidence that this won't just be a flash in the blogosphere.
• We all know people who insist on having the last word in any debate. It seems to me that bloggers who over-indulge in replies to comments risk being that person.

I want you to know that I value your comments, and I read and consider them, even if I don't reply immediately. If you're eager for thoughts on a particular issue in a more timely manner, please let me know.

In the meantime, I consider this kind of meta-discourse to be a poor sort of reward to my readers, so I'll put something else up that I hope is more suitable. Please let me know if I'm on the wrong track.

Thank you for your encouragement.

Peace

“What is to prevent me from being baptized?”

Why do we fear the other?

In my congregation, we've been studying Acts during adult education, in parallel with the lectionary.

Acts 8:26-39 Then an angel of the Lord said to Philip, “Get up and go toward the south to the road that goes down from Jerusalem to Gaza.” (This is a wilderness road.) So he got up and went. Now there was an Ethiopian eunuch, a court official of the Candace, queen of the Ethiopians, in charge of her entire treasury. He had come to Jerusalem to worship and was returning home; seated in his chariot, he was reading the prophet Isaiah. Then the Spirit said to Philip, “Go over to this chariot and join it.” So Philip ran up to it and heard him reading the prophet Isaiah. He asked, “Do you understand what you are reading?” He replied, “How can I, unless someone guides me?” And he invited Philip to get in and sit beside him. Now the passage of the scripture that he was reading was this:

“Like a sheep he was led to the slaughter, and like a lamb silent before its shearer, so he does not open his mouth. In his humiliation justice was denied him. Who can describe his generation? For his life is taken away from the earth.”

The eunuch asked Philip, “About whom, may I ask you, does the prophet say this, about himself or about someone else?” Then Philip began to speak, and starting with this scripture, he proclaimed to him the good news about Jesus. As they were going along the road, they came to some water; and the eunuch said, “Look, here is water! What is to prevent me from being baptized?” He commanded the chariot to stop, and both of them, Philip and the eunuch, went down into the water, and Philip baptized him. When they came up out of the water, the Spirit of the Lord snatched Philip away; the eunuch saw him no more, and went on his way rejoicing. (NRSV)

So here, we have arguably the first gentile convert to the Church — a black eunuch. Or, as my pastor gently described him, “A man of unconventional sexuality,” and a man rich enough to risk a scroll by reading it while riding a chariot down a dusty road. The paradigmatic “other.” Those who love to quote Leviticus when it comes to condemning homosexuality might like to remember what the Old Testament has to say about men in this man's situation.

Deuteronomy 23:1 No one whose testicles are crushed or whose penis is cut off shall be admitted to the assembly of the Lord.

And so my friends, which is it, when the other comes to worship with us — the ancient prohibition, or the Holy Spirit?

The Peace of the Lord be with you all.

My Tribe

Ephesians 4:4-6 There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to the one hope of your calling, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in all.

Yet all I see is “my tribe is better than your tribe,” and “my religion is better than your religion.” This doesn't contribute to understanding when we're talking Christian vs. Muslim, yet I'm seeing this kind of posturing between Christians. I know that I've contributed to this, so I need to be forgiven as well as to forgive.

My experience is that you can find good and bad in any sufficiently large group. Every religion can point to past glories, and their enemies can point to past outrages. I'd rather change the future than try to rewrite the past, but then, I've never been much for the easy way. Just his Way — in which we are one.

A Gravesian Ode

Why? He stood alone in the sudden silence. He'd come where he'd been told to come, brought what he'd been told to bring, found what he'd been told to find, and done what he'd been told to do. The blood flowed through the dust of the altar, and joined with the dust of the ground. He reached out with his right hand, still holding the knive, and closed the eyes of his son. Why? Abraham's cry penetrated the thicket around him, echoing off of the nearby hills, it reached heaven, where it found no answer. This is not the story that is told in Genesis. But I've been given it to tell to you. God hears our every cry, God heard Abraham's cry, and God cried too. He had no answer for Abraham. He had no answer for Sarah. St. Paul wrote, as all died in Adam, all will live in Christ. But on the day his son Jesus died, God the Father remembered Abraham, and he remembered Issac. Why? Abraham's cry tore heaven open, and shook the ground that day. It ripped the veil of the temple in half, as God the Father stood among men who could not see, and closed the eyes of his son, who could, and knew.

About eirene

Philippians 4:7 And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. (NRSV)

Eirene (εἰρήνη) is the Greek word for peace. Our URL is an abbreviated transliteration of “Peace of God,” — εἰρήνη τοῦ θεοῦ.

God's peace be with you.