For my children's sermon yesterday, I wrote some short rhyming couplets for the children's sermon since I wanted to avoid all of the ice-water-steam analogies... I offer them again here for all of our reflections.
Father, Son and Holy Spirit,
Mystery that we inherit.
Holy Spirit, Father, Son,
Not three gods, but Three-in-One.
God the Father made the world,
Through the Spirit and the Word.
God the Son was sent to save all,
So we might live with him eternal.
God the Spirit makes us holy,
Gives us faith to love God wholly.
Holy Trinity we praise you.
In your love, our life’s made new.
Monday, June 08, 2009
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
What Price Tomatoes?
From the March 2009 issue of Gourmet... an article on tomatoes and virtual slavery entitled "The Price of Tomatoes" and an online follow-up "Harvest of Hope."
I only read it because I was reading the letters about the original article in this most recent issue, May 2009. While most letters were thankful for the article on the subhuman conditions in which tomato pickers were kept, one reader commented "I can't begin to tell you how sick and tired I am of political propaganda that's slipped into every damned magazine." Caring about the condition of the workers who bring us our daily bread is vitally connected to our praying the "Our Father."
This past Sunday, I reminded my confirmation class that when we pray for our daily bread, since much of our food comes in through supermarkets, we pray for the truck drivers who transport the food, the upkeep and monitoring of the highway system, and now for the workers who harvest the food. Articles like this one are indeed political propaganda... the politics of the Kingdom and how this world falls incredibly short.
I only read it because I was reading the letters about the original article in this most recent issue, May 2009. While most letters were thankful for the article on the subhuman conditions in which tomato pickers were kept, one reader commented "I can't begin to tell you how sick and tired I am of political propaganda that's slipped into every damned magazine." Caring about the condition of the workers who bring us our daily bread is vitally connected to our praying the "Our Father."
This past Sunday, I reminded my confirmation class that when we pray for our daily bread, since much of our food comes in through supermarkets, we pray for the truck drivers who transport the food, the upkeep and monitoring of the highway system, and now for the workers who harvest the food. Articles like this one are indeed political propaganda... the politics of the Kingdom and how this world falls incredibly short.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Reflections from the Paschal Triduum and Easter
Alleluia! Christ is risen!
It is Sunday night and I am spent. The past week I took part in eleven services... from Gregorian Latin Compline, to the Synod's Chrism Mass and then on through the services of the Triduum and Easter morning. I have been following this pattern for the past five years now, and while some things are easier, it never gets completely effortless. There is always a snag here or there (like thinking morning prayer starts at 7:30 a.m. on Easter morning, but it's really 7:00!!! DOH!). And by this afternoon, my legs felt like I had run a solid half-marathon the day before; they ached so badly. But all in all, I am energized after this cycle. And I have been reflecting on some of the services and what they mean to me...
First, on Maundy Thursday,while I am always surprised at how few people turn out for this service, I continue to do it because it speaks to my pastoral identity. Not only do I speak the explicit words of absolution that have been absent during Lent, but I was feet. I wash anyone's feet who come forward. Of course, there is always a reluctance to come forward. And my gut feeling is that it is because there is a good deal of shame involved. Our feet are really not very pleasant. To have someone stoop then and wash them is a jolting experience.... unless one is used to having routine pedicures, which I would highly doubt is the case for most folks who are attending. When you remove your socks and shoes for someone else to pay attention to, you are required to open yourself and be vulnerable. I am always reminded at the level of intimacy that people welcome me their pastor into their lives as I wash their feet. "Here, pastor," they say, "here are my feet, but remember as you hold these parts of my body which I keep covered up and hidden, those aren't all you are to hold. You hold my sicknesses, my stays in the hospital, my martial problems, my financial distress, all those broken areas..." And yes, as Jesus set an example, I set one too... I am helping them see how they are present to be open and vulnerable as Christians in a broken world. The washing of their feet is a reminder, it seems to me, that they too are called to the ministry of the baptized, serving others as they make Christ's presence in the world known. Bring me those feet.
On Good Friday, at noon, we have been praying Stations of the Cross for a few years now. For a hodge podge (i.e. no distinct ethinc heritage and many transplants) Lutheran congregation, I have been amazed that not once have I heard, "Stations of the Cross? Isn't that CATHOLIC, Pastor?" Of course, I am sure that many in the congregation suspect that I am a crypto-Catholic, what with my chasubles, my chanting, the use of Sanctus bells on the three major festivals... but nothing here. And the number in attendance is quite significant. But the service balances, I believe, the emotional and the intellectual content so that we can be drawn into both of those even if we tend to favor one or the other. The readings are knit together so that we hear from many sources that act as a commentary on Jesus' death, using only Scripture and prayers. Forget guilt. The particular Stations we pray are not about making us feel bad for what happened to Jesus but to see God's extravagant love and what God will do to save us from ourselves.
We follow a fairly standard Adoration of the Cross service... with some elements of a Tenebrae service included--namely, the gospel reading is divided into seven parts with a hymn following each, and the nave becomes successively darker as we go. But after the bidding prayer, the lights come up for the entrance of the cross, the solemn reproaches and then the ability for people to pray at the cross that I have just wrestled down the aisle. This cross is large. When I first arrived here, I had asked if we could build one. A member of the congregation said he would take care of it, and one day I saw him outside the church working on a roof beam. I am not kidding when I say we actually could crucify someone on this cross. But despite the effort it takes me to bring it in, I wouldn't trade this cross at all for anything. I realize that this effect could be taken too far, but if you are going to ponder the cross, let's not use a tiny 2x4 cross. Let's make the cross seem as dangerous and as rough as possible. And then let people go up and kneel before it, touch it, pray beside it, kiss it even. Be prepared, God took on no light thing in redeeming us.
The Vigil is awfully interesting. Two years ago, everything seemed to go wrong. This year, only my chanting of the Exultet went wrong. Not enough light, not enough practice time, brutally hard piece, no voice left at that point anyway for much chanting. But the roof didn't collapse. The gospel was proclaimed. The sacraments were administered. And I have learned that I just should not take myself all that seriously. If the Vigil reminds me of anything, it reminds me from the opening verses, it is not about me. How many times do we use that phrase in seminary? How many more times should we remind ourselves it isn't about us? The office of readings is plain. We are entering God's story. Sit down and pay attention.
Easter morning comes and goes. The pomp and liturgical actions are feasts for me. I adore the service, and I suspect that most folks delight in it on this day as well. Candles, bells, robust singing... all of it feeds me. And yet, today as I left the church, the last one out the door, I walked through the nave and was struck at how simple and beautiful the place looked. Nothing over the top. Everything seemed just right, and there in the silence I stopped. I stood between the font and the altar and I prayed. I gave thanks for having been woven into this grand and amazing story.
He is risen indeed! Alleluia!
It is Sunday night and I am spent. The past week I took part in eleven services... from Gregorian Latin Compline, to the Synod's Chrism Mass and then on through the services of the Triduum and Easter morning. I have been following this pattern for the past five years now, and while some things are easier, it never gets completely effortless. There is always a snag here or there (like thinking morning prayer starts at 7:30 a.m. on Easter morning, but it's really 7:00!!! DOH!). And by this afternoon, my legs felt like I had run a solid half-marathon the day before; they ached so badly. But all in all, I am energized after this cycle. And I have been reflecting on some of the services and what they mean to me...
First, on Maundy Thursday,while I am always surprised at how few people turn out for this service, I continue to do it because it speaks to my pastoral identity. Not only do I speak the explicit words of absolution that have been absent during Lent, but I was feet. I wash anyone's feet who come forward. Of course, there is always a reluctance to come forward. And my gut feeling is that it is because there is a good deal of shame involved. Our feet are really not very pleasant. To have someone stoop then and wash them is a jolting experience.... unless one is used to having routine pedicures, which I would highly doubt is the case for most folks who are attending. When you remove your socks and shoes for someone else to pay attention to, you are required to open yourself and be vulnerable. I am always reminded at the level of intimacy that people welcome me their pastor into their lives as I wash their feet. "Here, pastor," they say, "here are my feet, but remember as you hold these parts of my body which I keep covered up and hidden, those aren't all you are to hold. You hold my sicknesses, my stays in the hospital, my martial problems, my financial distress, all those broken areas..." And yes, as Jesus set an example, I set one too... I am helping them see how they are present to be open and vulnerable as Christians in a broken world. The washing of their feet is a reminder, it seems to me, that they too are called to the ministry of the baptized, serving others as they make Christ's presence in the world known. Bring me those feet.
On Good Friday, at noon, we have been praying Stations of the Cross for a few years now. For a hodge podge (i.e. no distinct ethinc heritage and many transplants) Lutheran congregation, I have been amazed that not once have I heard, "Stations of the Cross? Isn't that CATHOLIC, Pastor?" Of course, I am sure that many in the congregation suspect that I am a crypto-Catholic, what with my chasubles, my chanting, the use of Sanctus bells on the three major festivals... but nothing here. And the number in attendance is quite significant. But the service balances, I believe, the emotional and the intellectual content so that we can be drawn into both of those even if we tend to favor one or the other. The readings are knit together so that we hear from many sources that act as a commentary on Jesus' death, using only Scripture and prayers. Forget guilt. The particular Stations we pray are not about making us feel bad for what happened to Jesus but to see God's extravagant love and what God will do to save us from ourselves.
We follow a fairly standard Adoration of the Cross service... with some elements of a Tenebrae service included--namely, the gospel reading is divided into seven parts with a hymn following each, and the nave becomes successively darker as we go. But after the bidding prayer, the lights come up for the entrance of the cross, the solemn reproaches and then the ability for people to pray at the cross that I have just wrestled down the aisle. This cross is large. When I first arrived here, I had asked if we could build one. A member of the congregation said he would take care of it, and one day I saw him outside the church working on a roof beam. I am not kidding when I say we actually could crucify someone on this cross. But despite the effort it takes me to bring it in, I wouldn't trade this cross at all for anything. I realize that this effect could be taken too far, but if you are going to ponder the cross, let's not use a tiny 2x4 cross. Let's make the cross seem as dangerous and as rough as possible. And then let people go up and kneel before it, touch it, pray beside it, kiss it even. Be prepared, God took on no light thing in redeeming us.
The Vigil is awfully interesting. Two years ago, everything seemed to go wrong. This year, only my chanting of the Exultet went wrong. Not enough light, not enough practice time, brutally hard piece, no voice left at that point anyway for much chanting. But the roof didn't collapse. The gospel was proclaimed. The sacraments were administered. And I have learned that I just should not take myself all that seriously. If the Vigil reminds me of anything, it reminds me from the opening verses, it is not about me. How many times do we use that phrase in seminary? How many more times should we remind ourselves it isn't about us? The office of readings is plain. We are entering God's story. Sit down and pay attention.
Easter morning comes and goes. The pomp and liturgical actions are feasts for me. I adore the service, and I suspect that most folks delight in it on this day as well. Candles, bells, robust singing... all of it feeds me. And yet, today as I left the church, the last one out the door, I walked through the nave and was struck at how simple and beautiful the place looked. Nothing over the top. Everything seemed just right, and there in the silence I stopped. I stood between the font and the altar and I prayed. I gave thanks for having been woven into this grand and amazing story.
He is risen indeed! Alleluia!
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Lutheran Study Bible -- ELCA / Augsburg Fortress
Last week, I ordered a copy of the Lutheran Study Bible (LSB from here on out) from Augsburg Fortress. I received it yesterday. Evidently, this study bible was in process when the ELCA decided to promote the Book of Faith initiative (so they say on p. 15)... but they designed the graphic art to dovetail nicely.
I have only had a day essentially to look it over, but I have a few observations.
- It is hard to argue with the translation... ok, at places it is hard to argue... at others it is not, if you read the original languages and knw that the translation in the NRSV is skewed (e.g. is it faith IN Christ or the faithfulness OF Christ such as in Romans 3:22? At least there the NRSV has a footnote to at least raise the issue). BUT it is the version that most congregations use in their weekly worship. So it makes sense that the NRSV is to be used here.
- There is some introductory stuff at the beginning that serves as an Introduction. Topics there include "What is the Bible?" and "How Did the Bible Come to Be?" Fairly good stuff there, although when they reach page 28, they create a table for "Different Canons of the Hebrew Bible (Old Testament)." Then under four headings (Jewish Tanakh, Protestant Old Testament, Roman Catholic Old Testament, Greek Septuagint), various books are listed under different categories. The Tanakh is listed in its traditional categories: Torah, Prophets, Writings. The other three groups have the same categories: Pentateuch (oooh, let's not use "Torah"... we might anger the superseccesionists in our congregations), Historical Books, Poetry/Wisdom, Prophets. The Roman Catholic and Septuagint headings include the apocryphal/deutero-canonical books. I understand that the idea here is inform readers of the different books that are used, but given that there are various groupings, I am afraid that folks will see these descriptive categories, and believe subconsciously that each group is using a different bible. Of course in some ways we are, since Jews look only to the Torah as authoritative, Roman Catholics can use the deutero-canonical books for doctrine, etc. BUT all the books point to a story of God, gracious and merciful, beginning and sustaining a covenantal people, even the apocryphal books... after all, Lutherans are free to read from those books in the midst of worship. Think of the Song of the Three Young Men (or Benedicite, omnia opera for you folks who still remember/care about the classic names) or the Baruch at the Easter Vigil.
- "A Word About Dates"... Here is another portion of the "Introduction" (p. 17) that is troublesome. When dates are listed the LSB, they use the scholarly convention of B.C.E. and C.E.; that is, Before Common Era and Common Era, respectively. They choose this convention of dating over the B.C. (before Christ) and A.D. (anno domini, "in the year of our Lord") convention because they say, "We also recognize that we share history with people of many faiths, including Jewish brothers and sisters with whom we share sacred Scripture." If I am in a scholarly setting, of course I use I the former. After all, in a religiously pluralistic world, I cannot assume that MY Lord is necessarily OUR Lord when speaking to a group of scholars. BUT the LSB touts itself precisely as a LUTHERAN study bible... I don't know how many folks will pick this book up for perusal if they are not Lutheran or at the very least Christian. Here in this book for Christians, we ought to feel free to call Jesus our Lord.
- The Layout is odd... The biblical text is on thin paper, and various study articles are on thicker, glossy paper. The "Introduction" is one such section on thick, glossy paper. The ink used there for most headings is a muted blue. Unfortunately they continue using that blue ink on the thin paper for section headings (why we need section headings is another issue... that practice encourages folks to read only the little pericopes, rather than learning how to see the larger picture... I encourage my bible study participants to ignore those headings). That blue is really rather difficult to read... if you are going to have the headings, make them readable.
- The next group of glossy pages interrupts the flow of the prophets. We get the Old Testament from Genesis to Nahum, then a glossy section that focuses essentially on how Lutherans should read the bible, but also some things about Luther and the Small Catechism (not the actual catechism, but how the Small Catechism relates to the witness of Scripture. THEN we get Habakkuk through Malachi... It just seems awkward to break up the flow like that. Why not wait until after the prophets were finished.
- The study notes have several different ways of looking at a passage... which are nice. They use four small icons to denote them: World of the Bible (bringing historical or archaeological comments to bear on what the bible is saying), Bible concepts (lifting up theological insights of a text), Lutheran perspectives (explaining how a passage might be interpreted with a Lutheran lens), Faith Reflection (raising questions about how a passage might intersect with the reader's life). All in all a nice addition, but the they use that awful blue ink again... with the combination of the print on other pages seen through the thin paper and the low contrast of the blue, they hard to see. Also, with all that can be said about biblical passages, why are there long stretches where there are none of these icons? Some pages are full of these notes, while others are incredibly sparse. For example, I just finished a bible study where we were looking at the upcoming gospel lesson for this Sunday ( Lent 5B, John 12:20-33)... not one little icon found there... Who are these Greeks who come to see Jesus? What about a Faith Reflection about what someone might think it means for one to lose her life, or what it means to hate their life in this world? Who is the "ruler of this world" who will be driven out in 12:31? No comments about parallels in other gospels? I like these little icons and their insights... I just wish they seemed more complete. Do the Lutherans have this little to say about stuff in the bible? I think not... but reading the LSB, I certainly get that impression. On the other hand, I suppose if this is a study bible, perhaps they were leaving copious amounts of room for the jotting down of notes.
- I do like the bible reading plans that they have in the back... and yes, I did say plans. Three different plans for reading the bible: Challenge, Survey, Sampler. The Challenge Path digs deep into Scripture, reading two to four chapters daily. The Survey Path has shorter passages, but call attention to themes that run throughout the bible. Finally the Sampler Path picks several verse daily out of a story that could be used for memorization. Varying levels of time and difficulty depending on where a person is... I like this greatly. They do not say it, so I would assume that the Challenge Path does not read through the whole bible in the course of a year. I wish that were the case... that would be the only improvement that could be made in this case.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Revulsion as Titillation?
The other day I read one of those little blurb reviews of films in the local paper. The page had a number of reviews, but my eyes fell on the one for Last House on the Left. I had seen a trailer for it at some point before I read the review, so I knew it fell in the horror genre. And I had a very deep suspicion that amidst the violence there was a rape scene. The review confirmed my suspicion. Despite being only a blurb, it was clear that the reviewer was disturbed by this scene, mainly because the reviewer thought that the scene was added mainly for, and this word sticks in my mind despite no longer having the review in front of me, titillation.
The movie is a remake of Wes Craven's film of the same name. His original also, I believe had a rape scene as did his The Hills Have Eyes, also recently remade but apparently not by the same folks. Having seen neither of these Wes Craven films, although I have seen a number of his Nightmare on Elm Street films, and The Serpent and the Rainbow which he directed and which I can no longer remember. I have also seen enough of the horror genre to know that titillation is part of the point... it draws the audience into the story and sets up the anticipation and suspense for the moments of surprise and horror and deepen the experience. Usually however, the sex, drinking, drug use and other illicit behaviors, those that titillate us, are undertaken by the ultimate victims of the violence. This pattern does indeed lead me to give some credence to the notion that horror movies are in some way sanctioned by moral conservatives to show the consequences for such behavior. The wages of sin being death, after all.
However, for rape to be portrayed as titillation continues to propagate the notion that rape is about sex, and not about violence, a truly revulsive violence. Perhaps the argument could be made that because rape looks like sex we cannot help but be somehow titillated, but really, either rape must be repulsive or else it isn't really being portrayed as rape.
As far as I can recall, I have only seen two other films with rape scenes, The Accused starring Jodi Foster, and Dead Man Walking with Susan Sarandon and Sean Penn. Interesting to note, I think, that both of these movies won Oscars. I think that the rape in The Accused was purposefully titillating to help make the point precisely that rape is abhorrent and not the fault of the victim even if it seemed to be sex.
What I have been pondering however is the other film, Dead Man Walking. Throughout the movie we see Sister Helen Prejean's ministry to both the perpetrator and families of murder and rape victims. Throughout the movie Sister Helen has been trying to get the death-row convict Matthew Poncelet to essentially confess. Shortly before his execution, Matthew does in fact free himself of his burden and tell of his crime, which is shown rather graphically. In this movie, we have seen Matthew portrayed as a horrible person. The rape scene in that movie is not, I believe, portrayed as titillating. It is precisely not meant to get us excited, but instead to portray Poncelet as a revulsive character. What type of human could do such a thing to another?
Clearly, the one issue is the way rape is shown in order to titillate. But then there is also the differences in response between Last House on the Left and Dead Man Walking. Apparently, not to give away too much, the family whose house has been invaded, the same evidently as the young woman who has been raped, concoct deepening levels of revenge upon the invaders/rapists. The tag line of the movie, according to imdb.com is "If bad people hurt someone you love, how far would you go to hurt them back?" That is what we expect, isn't it? These offenders who have accosted us with their sexual violence and now go farther, earn their justice, even if we who have been titillated by it get away scot free.
Yet, in Dead Man Walking, we are brought into the midst of the violence, the rape and the murder, seeing how revulsive it actually is, wondering how any human being can do that to another? But then the response toward Matthew, while the state demands execution, is not just an eye for an eye. Rather, Sister Helen tells Matthew that when he is on the table about to be injected he should fix his eyes on her because she wants the last face he sees to be one of love. Here is the gospel message. One whose acts are revulsive, and who rightfully earns the world's justice, is nonetheless shown mercy from another. The proper Christian response to violence is not revenge, but forgiveness and evangelization. Yes, Poncelet suffers the consequences imposed by the state, but he is not forsaken. His violence is truly repulsive, yet the response of God and God's servants is the truly titillating.
The movie is a remake of Wes Craven's film of the same name. His original also, I believe had a rape scene as did his The Hills Have Eyes, also recently remade but apparently not by the same folks. Having seen neither of these Wes Craven films, although I have seen a number of his Nightmare on Elm Street films, and The Serpent and the Rainbow which he directed and which I can no longer remember. I have also seen enough of the horror genre to know that titillation is part of the point... it draws the audience into the story and sets up the anticipation and suspense for the moments of surprise and horror and deepen the experience. Usually however, the sex, drinking, drug use and other illicit behaviors, those that titillate us, are undertaken by the ultimate victims of the violence. This pattern does indeed lead me to give some credence to the notion that horror movies are in some way sanctioned by moral conservatives to show the consequences for such behavior. The wages of sin being death, after all.
However, for rape to be portrayed as titillation continues to propagate the notion that rape is about sex, and not about violence, a truly revulsive violence. Perhaps the argument could be made that because rape looks like sex we cannot help but be somehow titillated, but really, either rape must be repulsive or else it isn't really being portrayed as rape.
As far as I can recall, I have only seen two other films with rape scenes, The Accused starring Jodi Foster, and Dead Man Walking with Susan Sarandon and Sean Penn. Interesting to note, I think, that both of these movies won Oscars. I think that the rape in The Accused was purposefully titillating to help make the point precisely that rape is abhorrent and not the fault of the victim even if it seemed to be sex.
What I have been pondering however is the other film, Dead Man Walking. Throughout the movie we see Sister Helen Prejean's ministry to both the perpetrator and families of murder and rape victims. Throughout the movie Sister Helen has been trying to get the death-row convict Matthew Poncelet to essentially confess. Shortly before his execution, Matthew does in fact free himself of his burden and tell of his crime, which is shown rather graphically. In this movie, we have seen Matthew portrayed as a horrible person. The rape scene in that movie is not, I believe, portrayed as titillating. It is precisely not meant to get us excited, but instead to portray Poncelet as a revulsive character. What type of human could do such a thing to another?
Clearly, the one issue is the way rape is shown in order to titillate. But then there is also the differences in response between Last House on the Left and Dead Man Walking. Apparently, not to give away too much, the family whose house has been invaded, the same evidently as the young woman who has been raped, concoct deepening levels of revenge upon the invaders/rapists. The tag line of the movie, according to imdb.com is "If bad people hurt someone you love, how far would you go to hurt them back?" That is what we expect, isn't it? These offenders who have accosted us with their sexual violence and now go farther, earn their justice, even if we who have been titillated by it get away scot free.
Yet, in Dead Man Walking, we are brought into the midst of the violence, the rape and the murder, seeing how revulsive it actually is, wondering how any human being can do that to another? But then the response toward Matthew, while the state demands execution, is not just an eye for an eye. Rather, Sister Helen tells Matthew that when he is on the table about to be injected he should fix his eyes on her because she wants the last face he sees to be one of love. Here is the gospel message. One whose acts are revulsive, and who rightfully earns the world's justice, is nonetheless shown mercy from another. The proper Christian response to violence is not revenge, but forgiveness and evangelization. Yes, Poncelet suffers the consequences imposed by the state, but he is not forsaken. His violence is truly repulsive, yet the response of God and God's servants is the truly titillating.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
The Bible ala N.T. Wright
I just finished N.T. Wright's Suprised by Hope last night. Absolutely one of the best reads for me in a long time. The point of Christianity is not, as he argues, to get to heaven, but to partake in the new creation that God is bringing about most notably through Jesus' resurrection, but also that the Church continues to witness to in its mission.
Wright writes the following about the Bible, and this passage is fine example of his engaging writing (Surprised by Hope, pp 282-283).
Wright writes the following about the Bible, and this passage is fine example of his engaging writing (Surprised by Hope, pp 282-283).
The Bible as a whole thus does what it does best when read from the perspective of new creation. And it is designed not only to tell us about that work of new creation, as though from a detached perspective, not only to provide us with true information about God's fresh, resurrection life, but also to foster that work of new creation in the churches, groups, and individuals who read it, who define themselves in terms of the Jesus they meet in it, who it to shape their lives. The Bible is thus the story of creation and new creation, and it is itself, through the continuing work of the Spirit who inspired it, an instrument of new creation in human lives and communities.
The Bible is not, in other words, simply a list of true doctrines or a collection of proper moral commands--though it includes plenty of both. The Bible is not simply the record of what various people thought as they struggled to know God and follow him, though it is that as well. It is not simply the record of past revelations, as though what mattered were to study such things in the hopes that one might have one for oneself. It is the book whose whole narrative is about new creation, that is, about resurrection, so that when each of the gospels end with the raising of Jesus from the dead, and when Revelation ends with new heavens and new earth populated by God's people risen from the dead, this should come not as a surprise, but as the ultimate fulfillment of what the story had been about all along. (This, by the way, is deep-level reason why the other gospels were not included in the canon. It isn't that they were the really exciting or subversive bits that the early church excluded in the interests of power and control. They were the books that had stopped talking about new creation and were offering a private, detached spirituality instead. The sudden enthusiasm for these other gospels in certain quarters of the Western world in our own day is a token not of the rediscovery of genuine Christianity but of the desperate attempts to avoid it. New creation is far more demanding--though, ultimately, of course, far more exhilarating--than Gnostic escapism.)
Thus, just as the proclamation of Jesus as Lord results in men, women, and children coming to trust and obey him in the power of the Spirit and to find their lives transformed by his saving lordship, so the telling of the story of new creation, of covenant and new covenant, doesn't just inform the hearers about this narrative. It invites them into it, enfolds them within it, assures them of their membership in it, and equips them for their tasks in pursuit of its goal.
long delay...
Sorry for the long delay in more posts... we have had a long February in my house... sick kids, sick parents, hospital visits... and then Lent hit... wow... Hopefully back to a more regular posting schedule.
Friday, February 06, 2009
Lutheran, Anglican Bishops Denied Entry to Gaza
From the ELCA News Service:
Read the whole entry here.
The Rev. Munib A. Younan, bishop of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Jordan and the Holy Land (ELCJHL), and the Rt. Rev. Suheil Dawani, Anglican bishop of Jerusalem, were denied entry to Gaza Feb. 4, according to a news release from the ELCJHL.
The bishops were traveling with the heads of churches of Jerusalem to visit Christians in Gaza. Younan and Dawani were the only Palestinians in the group and the only ones denied entry, the release said.
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