The Eucharist, a Child, and Pastor Dad

Two Sundays ago (I've been away for a week teaching at a summer camp, and learning good youth group stuff), during a normally orderly service, my middle child went absolutely ballistic in the middle of the distribution of the Eucharist. Evidently I gave him too small a piece of bread. The bread must have been an older loaf nearing the end of the batch which one couple bakes regularly. But it was dry and crumbly. I was having a difficult time breaking off pieces that would ever be considered large. It wasn't just him, but everybody. Only he didn't like it. And he let me know about it. Everyone else in the congregation overheard as well. He was L-O-U-D.

Luckily, I thought, he was almost at the end of the rail, so when he pitched this fit, throwing his piece of bread to the floor, I kept moving. I finished communing the four or five people after him, and since he had not finished his screaming, I returned. But when I returned it was not as pastor but dad. I don't know what to think about that transformation. After all, at that moment I was dealing with conflicting emotions. I needed to step in and support my wife's discipline. But I was also dealing with the embarrassment of MY child cranking it up in front of everyone. I really wanted him to stop. But he would simply not let up.

I went up to him and uttered as quietly as I could but so he could hear them the oh-so pastoral words, "You get what you get and you don't throw a fit." And he did not let up. He was not fooled by this. He wanted more. So I tried giving him another piece. It was not big enough either. I feared the voices in my head who were saying I was giving in, but I just wanted him to quiet down. Stop interrupting everyone else's quiet meditation (although I know that most folks are not really doing that... they are beginning to wonder what to do about lunch or what's going on that afternoon, since once Communion is over, the service is practically done). But that piece didn't satisfy him either. He was still raging for a bigger piece. At that point I had nothing left to do and other people were waiting so I moved on. His mother, as always, had to deal with discipline during the service. If I could change one thing about being a pastor and a dad, it would be this... for almost seven years, my wife has borne the burden of this.

My wife removed him from the sanctuary and down the connected hallway. We could still hear him screaming but it was at least muted. But not for long. Somehow he burst out of her containment and down the hall back to the communion at which he launched himself, nearly knocking over an elderly member with a walker. His hand thrust out at me and he demanded a bigger piece as loudly as he could. And with great sorrow, I passed him by and let my wife drag him away again.

Why was I sorrowful? Because about a month previous, our youngest child became our middle. And he became the middle literally overnight, wetting his bed for the first time in well over a year, the very night his younger sister was born. He has been demanding attention. He isn't staying in bed at night. He wants us to come up to his room with him. And here I think he turns to God (not just me, but I am part of the equation) for attention to... "I want a bigger piece of you!" He knows that this is not just bread. Can he quote the answer to Luther's "Was ist das?" question of the Small Catechism? no, he is four. But he knows that it is Jesus Bread. He has communed since the day of his Baptism. And the special nature of this meal brings him to the point where I think he feels he can turn. But when his world seemingly shrinks, and divided attention becomes even less, and the place where he derives some comfort for at least momentary connection with God in a piece of bread and small cup of wine, not to mention a moment where Dad touches him and we have a one-to-one connection around the words "The body of Christ shed for you" but even this seems divided because the bread is too small... it is too much for him.

He wants more from God. Don't we all. I can at least think abstractly and ponder what a "foretaste of the feast to come" might mean. But a four-year old cannot. He wants God writ large coming and speaking to him in real and concrete terms. And Pastor Dad responds with, "You get what you get and you don't throw a fit." How callous of me. How horrible to see a pastoral moment and stomp on it. My son's desire for more of God is what we want to cultivate isn't it? Maybe not in its performance, but the desire? Surely. After all, who doesn't want a child, or an adult for that matter, to desire more Jesus? Jesus is there in that bread and wine. We should expect that. Maybe if a few more people threw such fits at the altar it might remind that our own humanness, fallen as it is, does not always perceive the presence of the risen Jesus like it should. These fits remind us that there is a world of people desiring something more than the normal routine with the all too often heard words of "You get what you get and you don't throw a fit." Christ gives of himself so unreservedly that those words have no place at the altar. Instead we should hear, as Luther reminds us in the Small Catechism, the "for you" and remember how great such giving is.

This past Sunday, when I approached my son at the altar and placed the bread in his hand, declaring it to be the Body of Christ given for him, he asked in a voice full of wonder, "Is this a big piece?" "Yes," I replied. This piece is bigger than anything either of us will know until the day Christ returns.

Glenn Beck and Social Justice

For months now, I have been pondering a response to Glenn Beck's statements regarding social justice. Part of me wanted to avoid his horrible pronouncements that are meant for the media machine more than they are for thoughtful Christians. Part of me wanted to knock him down a peg or two, but with a back-handed compliment. Part of me wanted to actually claim that he was right. After all, the central mission of the Church is to proclaim the gospel. Caring for the people living in poverty and struggling with hunger is not central to our mission. In the critique Beck is right.

And I know that many will stand up and shout about all the passages in the Bible (over 2000+ verses, I know) that deal with words about justice and equity and hunger and poverty and so on. And almost everyone will point to Matthew 25 and the words Jesus utters about having done it to him when you do it to the "least of these." And yet whenever I read it those words in the Bible, I don't hear them addressed to the hoi polloi, the great masses for the most part. I hear the prophets calling Israel's leaders to task. I hear Jesus calling out the civil authorities, reminding them that one day he will return as the one and only king, finally bringing about the culmination of the Reign of God, to which they will have to answer. Which has brought me to the realization that if the Church is not supposed to care for people living on the social margins, then it must be the civil authorities. But then, as now, the civil authorities are terrible at it. And now they turn to the Church to do their job, so long as they don't do it too well.

Whenever the Church stands up and begins doing the civil authorities' jobs, sooner or later they begin, whether intentionally or not, to point to that Reign, when all tears will be wiped away, when all hunger is stopped, when there will be no more class distinction. This witness to the activity of God then is a reminder that these authorities are temporal. They will pass away. But what authority truly wants to hear that they are not going to last. None of them. When the activity of the Church starts to look like this ultimate Reign, the authorities try to put the Church back into a constrained little box. "Mixing of church and state!" "Socialism!" "Christianity is about the salvation of souls!!!"

Paul talks about sin as a power that enslaves, and we are enslaved until Christ sets us free. But sin gets us all. Our individual lives, our communal lives, our strutctures and powers, even our not-so-free market. Even the market is bound by sin. Christ stands against all of that, and the Church now has to free people for service in this future Reign breaking in around us even now. And we step in to do the work that isn't really ours, serving our neighbor, precisely because it is hard to hear the gospel over the grumbling of an empty stomach. We continue to point to and raise up people who can point to this work of God in Jesus.

Over at Sojourners, Rachel Johnson invokes Dietrich Bonhoeffer and the theology of the cross in this same vein.

Bonhoeffer took very literally the idea that Christians are called to be the body of Christ in the world and to imitate the life of Christ. And when he looked to the gospels, the example he saw Jesus give was of a servant who challenged the oppressive social forces around him. It was this understanding that lead Bonhoeffer to state, “The church is the church only when it exists for others.” Jesus frees us from sin in order that we may have a transformative impact on our social structures here and now, so that we may aid in ushering in the kingdom of God on earth as it is in heaven. For freedom we are set free. And so, to Bonhoeffer, Christians of good conscience could not remain silent under Hitler’s rule, because the calling of God on their lives was one that compelled them to speak on behalf of the oppressed, to share in the life of Jesus, even to the point of sharing in his suffering and dying. This last point is one with which Glenn Beck seems particularly uncomfortable.

Lord's Prayer and forgiveness... sins AND debts

The question arose yesterday in bible study if Jesus was being sarcastic with the petition "forgive us our sins for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us." (Luke 11:4 NRSV) After all, we don't forgive everyone who sins against us. And there were good answers in the gathering that Jesus does in fact mean for us to forgive those who sin against us, but that it is an ideal, an ideal that we are to strive for, mind you, not throw our hands in the air because it is unattainable. The Kingdom is breaking in around us after all.

But I was jotting down a few notes this morning for my sermon, and happened to look at my new copy of the New Interpreter's Bible One-Volume Commentary. There in the section for Luke 11, the commentary mentioned that the gracious provision of "Father" forms the basis of the ensuing petitions. The first of those petitions for Luke is the realization of God's Reign, and the third is the petition on forgiveness as I have quoted it above.

And just the simple way this was listed got me thinking. Yesterday we noticed, while comparing both Matthew's and Luke's versions of the prayer that there did seem to be a transactional basis for forgiveness. Our language of forgiveness is couched in financial terms. We are owed an apology. In Matthew our sins are portrayed as debts to God. But I wonder if that is what is going on in Luke. Have we for so long connected debts and sins that Jesus here is saying something else? When Jesus gives us the words "forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive everyone who is indebted to us," does he really point to an early practice, rooted in the realization of God's Reign, where Christians literally forgave real financial debts. It would seem to fit within the fabric of Luke's gospel with the great reversal and the care for the poor. It would seem to fit in with the vision of God's Reign as the great Jubilee where debts, real financial debts, are forgiven.

Unfortunately I don't think this takes away any of the questions about whether we need to forgive others before God forgives us. (I don't think we do) But I do wonder if it convicts us in seeking forgiveness from God without our following in those same footsteps forgiving debts to which we will have no ultimate claim when God's Reign comes fully.

SF and theology...

Just the other day, a friend of mine posted on Facebook a list of fifteen books that would not be forgotten by him because of their influence in his life. He tagged some friends (not me, but I saw it anyway) and told them to do the same. The rules were simple recall fifteen books that would not be forgotten by you, but you had to do it in fifteen minutes. Then post it in your notes and tag other friends so that they could do the same. It is a good enterprise, I think to do such tasks every now and again. I cannot say that this list is the same list I would have written a year ago, nor is it likely that a year from now the list will remain the same. So here is my list in no particular order.

1. Dune by Frank Herbert
   
2. Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien
3. The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis
4. Resident Aliens by Hauerwas and Wilimon
5. The Brothers Karamazov by Dostoyevsky
6. Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson and Oliver Relin
7. The Freedom of a Christian by Martin Luther
8. The Foundation Series by Isaac Asimov
9. I,Robot by Asimov
10. After Virtue by Alisdair MacIntyre
11. A Canticle for Liebowitz by Walter Miller, Jr.
    
12. The Large Catechism by Martin Luther
13. Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card
14. Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury
    
15. Batman Knightfall series (a major story arc across the Batman comics in the mid '90s, most of which have been collected into trade paperbacks)
    

Full disclosure... I specifically left out the Bible and the Lutheran Confessional books, except the Large Catechism on purpose. I think that they are fundamental books (or collection of books as the case truly is) and they inform my reading of just about everything else. I take them as axiomatic. They are part of the fabric upon which these others have been brought into.

With this list though, I am somewhat surprised in some ways, and not at all in others, to see so many SF books here. And for the record I understand SF not as science fiction but more to the point of Speculative Fiction. Speculative fiction asks the questions of human existence often in a different context so that it helps us make sense of our own lives. And I think these books here are so memorable because of their impact in helping me make sense of my own life.

And the best ones do it because they resonate with the story of God's redemption of the world in one through Jesus Christ in one way or another. And good theology goes along the same task, serving the world by explicating and speculating about God's story told primarily through the Bible, so that the gospel might be proclaimed and make sense for the hearers. Theologians are called to an imaginative task. We get to ponder anew what our great God has done, is doing and will yet do.

Next to my bed I have a big stack of SF novels and collections of short stories for my consumption. They used to be the only thing on my reading list. Then it became only theology. I am moving to somewhere in the center, where both are read with great joy.

Bible and Technology...

A few months ago, I picked up my first smart phone, a Blackberry Curve. I had looked and looked at the vast array of phones out there. I wasn't on AT&T so I couldn't get an iPhone. I thought about the Palm Pre, and various Android options. Ultimately I settled on the Blackberry, because it was the cheapest option. I didn't really have to pay out that much, $50 compared to $150 or $200. My inner tightwad felt consoled. And my outer geek was satisfied.

And I can do everything I can imagine with my Blackberry. I am sure with an iPhone or Android phone there would be even more than I could imagine, but right now this suffices. And I really like that I ran across the YouVersion Bible reading app. And it doesn't matter what your mobile device of choice is, they have an app for you as well as several reading plans.

It does not have the NRSV but I have been reading the ESV, a fairly worthy translation I think. While having the bible at my fingertips is handy for my own devotional reading, it has also come in handy for pastoral duties as well. I was asked to officiate at a wedding on Memorial Day weekend at a site about an hour and a half away, and of all things, I forgot my bible. So when it came time for me to read the gospel lesson, I discreetly pulled my phone, which had been set up for the passage needed, out of my pocket and read it from there. Only a few folks noticed what I did, technophiles each of them.

Granted, I could likely listen to my wife about boundaries and techonology, but it can in fact serve the ministry well. Check out YouVersion, if you are looking for a bible reading app for your phone or other mobile device.

Praying for Christopher Hitchens...

So a LCMS pastor friend of mine (yes that CAN happen, although just to be safe, we routinely anathematize each other :) ) posted on his blog today that Christopher Hitchens has announced that he has cancer. Given my posts against his work, I found Charlie's post to be spot on. You can read his whole post here.

To summarize though, Charlie reminds us of our calling to pray for our enemies. I would add also, that this situation is not a time either to use Paul's image of heaping coals upon our enemies by our acts of kindness toward them. I find that Christians tend to use that in a rather back-handed and vindictive way. Something along the lines of "HA! We are so much better than you cause we are being nice to you!" which of course seems to be totally against the spirit of the injunction to pray for our enemies.

Pray for Mr. Hitchens' well-being AND for his conversion.

"For freedom Christ has set us free..."

In preparing for this upcoming Sunday's sermon, where I continue preaching on the letter to the Galatians, I was re-reading Luther's "On Christian Liberty." I am ever thankful that I had been assigned this treatise in seminary. The resonance with Paul's letter is rich.

A man does not live for himself alone in this mortal body to work for it alone, but he lives also for all men on earth; rather he lives only for others and not for himself. To this end, he brings his body into subjection that he may the more sincerely and freely serve others, as Paul says in Romans 14[:7-8], "None of us lives to himself, and none of us dies to himself. If we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord." He cannot ever in this life be idle and without works toward his neighbors, for he will necessarily speak, deal with, and exchange views with men, as Christ also, being made in the likeness of men [Phil. 2:7], was found in the form as a man and conversed with man, as Baruch 3[:37] says.

Man, however, needs none of these things for his righteousness and salvation. Therefore he should be guided in all his works by this thought and contemplate this one thing alone, that he may serve and benefit others in all that he does, considering nothing except the need and the advantage of his neighbor. Accordingly the Apostle commands us to work with our hands so that we may give to the needy, although he might have said that we should work to support ourselves. He says however, "that he may be able to give to those in need" [Eph 4:28]. this is what makes caring for the body a Christian work, that through its health and comfort we may be able to work, to acquire, and lay by funds with which to aid those who are in need, that in this way the strong member may serve the weaker, and we may be the sons of God, each caring for and working for the other, bearing one another's burdens and so fulfilling the law of Christ [Gal. 6:2]. This is a truly Christian life. Here faith is truly active through love [Gal. 5:6], that is, it finds expression in works of the freest service, cheerfully and lovingly done, with which a man willingly serves another without hope of reward; and for himself he is satisfied with the fullness and wealth of his faith.

The Freedom of a Christian, Martin Luther

Toys and Nietzsche - Toy Story 3 and Community

Don't read, if you want absolutely NO spoilers for Toy Story 3. Some are found below.



My wife and I took our boys to see Toy Story 3 this weekend. I was looking to be entertained. I didn't expect two things. The first thing was the sheer emotion that welled up and just gushed forth. It did not help that I was sitting next to my oldest who had just finished first grade, that I had just played the day before with my youngest pretending to chase down the Joker with the Batman playset, AND that my wife and I are expecting our third child, our first daughter, literally any moment now. I cried for the first quarter of the movie, and then for the last quarter of the movie, all because the fleeting moments with my children seemed all too fleeting, and I was sure that my oldest was about to head off to college tomorrow. The second surprise, and more important one for this blog post, was the defense of dependent community over and against the cult of the individual who owns his or her own destiny.

Not to give away too much, but due to a misunderstanding, the remaining toys in Andy's room get separated from Woody, and head for the trash heap. Woody goes after them, even though they avoid the trash without his help. Nonetheless they believe that Andy meant to throw them away and they would rather try their luck at the daycare center. They are hurt to be sure, but they simply will not listen to the words of Woody calling them back to their faithfulness to Andy. The recurrent theme throughout the Toy Story films, the indellible mark placed upon the toys by Andy, returns here as well. And it was impossible for me not to see this continued theme in the light of baptism. As each of us are marked with the sign of the cross in the waters of baptism, that indellible promise, we are showered with grace, claimed as God's own, and placed in a relationship where we can live out a response to that love. The toys having been claimed by Andy, Woody asserts, are called to respond by always being there for him. Granted the image of Andy as God breaks down, but here the toys are certainly called to trust that Andy would not abandon them and would take care of them whether he took them to college or put them in the attic.

But the toys don't trust Andy, which is probably a good thing since the story would have been over really quickly and the special 3-D fee would have been really really painful, and they end up at the day care. At the day care, the toys meet a whole new host of characters, all under the seemingly benevolent leadership of Lotso (Lotso Huggin', a pink stuffed bear, who smells like strawberries). He welcomes the new toys, has Ken lead them on a tour of the facility, and tells them they get to be in the catepillar room. Lotso makes sure to portray the place as a utopia. He plays on their distrust of Andy and claims that there at the daycare, they never have to worry about being lost of rejected again. The toys there are not bound by dependency on others. Each toy is his or her own master. Dependency leads to being cast aside, but since the children constantly rotate through the daycare, there is no dependency.

But we find out that Lotso is not the caring bear he seems to be. He is in fact the ruler of the daycare toys, and rules by sheer will. His word is law. By allowing certain toys into his circle of power, these other toys cooperate in the culture of fear. When Andy's toys, minus Woody who leaves the other toys to return to Andy, find out what the Caterpillar room means, preschoolers who do not so much play with the toys as abuse them, they attempt to get transferred to the Butterfly room. Then they find out the real nature of Lotso and his method of governing.

At the heart of the movie is this debate. Which is better, living in a particular, dependent community, or to be master of one's own fate, a truly independent individual? Actually that is the way Lotso wants to pose the question to Andy's toys, and Lotso is pretty adamant about that being independent is the better station in life. Being taken in by this line, the toys from Andy's room that remain, find a dramatic bait-and-switch. They are not independent at all. Lotso enslaves them with the false image of true independence coming through the exertion of their own wills. Lotso models the Nietzschean will to power. Atomistic individuals struggling for power, who refuse to buck the system seeing how it is stacked in favor of the powerful. And they want nothing more than to be included in that inner circle. So they play the game.

Into this atmosphere though come a particular band of people who know what true community, an enfleshed community rooted in love, is and looks like. The toys discover that it is better to be enslaved to a loving benevolent master who seeks their true best than a power-hungry toy who seeks only their domination. Andy comprehends the true dignity of their selves. Lotso believes the toys are nothing but trash to be used and discarded. And near the climax of the movie, in a scene strongly reminiscent of the book of Daniel, there is a moment when we believe that Lotso might have repented and could save them all from sure destruction. But he stops short and lets the toys go on to their destruction, and he calls out, "Where is your boy now?" I could not help but hear the distinct echo of Psalm 42:10, 'My bones suffer mortal agony as my foes taunt me, saying to me all day long, "Where is your God?"'

But there is deliverance and redemption. The lies of Nietzsche are laid bare and the promise of a community dependent upon the truly benevolent master is shown victorious. Andy, the benevolent master, knows the true identity of each toy. He knows what is best about each of them. In the end the true telos of the individual is to live in community dependent on others, not just for basic needs but for our sense of identity as well.

At its best, the church is such a community. We know that we are dependent upon God for our identity, even if there are times we would rather not be so dependent, when we'd rather be 'spiritual not religious' that is, to live in a pseudo-community that says we can be arbiters of our own destiny. Nonetheless we have an external objective reality who has promised to be there for us throughout it all. Some of us are placed in the attic at rest until we are awakened. And some of us continue on with the work to which we have been called. Sure the reality is messier than that, but the truth remains, we simply cannot live on our own, seeking our own goods, and remain the people God intends for us to be.

Even children's toys know that...

Dystopia and Glee -- Law and Gospel

Linda, a friend of mine from college, who majored in politics, became a lawyer, started writing incredibly insightful AND amusing movie reviews as a hobby (becoming a blogger before there were bloggers), ultimately becomes a full-time blogger, who now writes the NPR blog on popular culture, Monkey See. She still writes great reviews and commentary on movies and television, and takes great joy whenever anyone comments on her blog along the lines of "I can't believe they pay you to write this stuff!!!' But she is good. She is able to cut to the deeper subtext of the viewer. Her cultural criticism is a HUGE part of what the task of preaching should be about.

I read with great interest her blog post More Misery! More Death! More Cruelty!: The Onset Of Dystopia Fatigue" where in the beginning she reports the questions of other critics whom she respects, ask how in the world Glee can be so popular. Her answer:

Just a hint: check the title. It's called Glee, for the love of Busby Berkeley, and we are currently in a period of such critical and popular dystopiphilia (yes, I made that up) that it sometimes feels like once in a blue moon, it would be nice to enjoy something because it is enjoyable, nevermind the fact that it isn't about the dark, cavernous emptiness that is the heart of mankind.

Now, what a great answer. And if you don't love her for the answer, then please love her for the creation of the word dystopiphilia. She is brilliant.

She comments quite accurately on the reality that our movies and television are populated with an overabundance of dark and violent images that fill us with our share of the grisly and empty side of human nature. And she for one stands up and declares that she has dystopia fatigue. It tires her out and wears her down. And so she names at least three alternatives that run an opposite tack. Glee, Modern Family, and Pixar movies, most notably Toy Story 3, opening this weekend.

I cannot help then of being reminded of the scene out of Kevin Costner's film The Postman (from the book by David Brin). A film is being shown for the band of survivors, known as the Holnists, but it is too violent. They begin throwing rocks down upon the projection booth in protest. The projectionist knows what they want and ultimately puts on The Sound of Music. In a reality where they suffer from a dreary existence, centered on the brutality of their tyrannical leader Bethlehem, they don't want to see more of the same. They want something that brings about enjoyment, and perhaps reminds them, in the midst of their apocalyptic aftermath, of their previous lives. Their remembrance brings about a sense of hope, not mere escapism.

And that is after all one possible answer to the popularity of these shows and movies. They are pure escapist stories. They help us forget for a time the reality of the world, and instead allow us to leave it for however briefly.

And in some cases that might be so. But not in all cases. We need not always focus on what life IS like, but sometimes on what it SHOULD be like. And this dichotomy lies at the heart of Law and Gospel preaching. Just as the Law lays bear the reality of the world, providing us the mirror of our existence, the Gospel gives us the proclamation of what life should and will be like in eschaton.

Preaching that focuses solely on the Law is preaching that, as my homiletics professor used to say, crushes toes with the hammer of the Law. It breaks our spirits, crushes us under its weight but gives no release, allowing us to instead strive futilely under our own efforts. We are killed, but have nowhere to go but remain in the grave.

Preaching that never deals with our reality and focuses only on the Gospel, too easily falls into escapism. Too easily makes it seem as if this world doesn't matter. We don't need to concern ourselves with this bodily existence because we have some pie-in-the-sky dream that allows us to escape the dark and dreary world. Very often I believe this is what people want. Critical reflection about the darkness of the world is necessary so that the reality of what God is doing in Jesus Christ can be made manifest most powerfully.

Our culture can reflect these two extremes. For a people who are constantly under the assault of images or war, environmental disasters, local news that is almost always disaster-ridden, it is too easy to think that this is all there is. And we fall in love with the dystopia. Any messages that speak otherwise, of redemption and hope, are met with sneers and jeers.

But the faithful proclamation of the Church continues to speak of both Law and Gospel. We hold both together in tension so that we may know of the brokenness of this world, but of the transformation that is being wrought in Jesus Christ so that our daily death to this brokenness of sin might be overcome in the good news.

We all long for something more than just what reality gives us.

Reno's New Commentary on Genesis (Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible)

Yesterday, I received the newest volume in the Brazos series of commentaries, R.R. Reno's volume on the book of Genesis. I try to read through at least the Introduction of these volumes when I get them. It doesn't always happen but I try, and I did read through Reno's Introduction this morning. To say I am excitedly intrigued would be an understatement.

Reno used the name of the book as the stepping off point. "Genesis" means birth or origin, he says. And we often think of the origin or birth of the world. Given the creation stories that begin this book, it really should not surprise us. Nonetheless, Reno sees in Genesis the origin, not of the world, but of the reality coming through God's promise and establishment of the covenant. He writes,

As a book of origins, Genesis is far less concerned with the source of what is that what will be. In order to do justice to this overall thrust, I offer an insistent reading of Genesis as a promise-driven, future-oriented. As the covenant with Abraham makes clear, God blesses his creatures with a new future. The promises break the bonds of sin, because God secures their fulfillment. they perfect our created natures, because God fulfills then in our flesh.

As would be expected, I think, Reno continues to maintain focus on the grand narrative which God tells and not get sidetracked in all too common discussions of Genesis and scientific narratives.

That he mentions God fulfilling promises in our flesh is probably not surprising. How else do we think of Jesus after all. However, he closes his Introduction, with an attack on gnosticism, and particularly as to how that relates to the book of Genesis. Immediately before this lengthy quote, he has made clear that he employs historical-critical study of the bible when he finds it helpful in answering the questions he has. It is the case that the historical-critical method does not always answer the questions that arise, and so he is not beholden to that alone. This paragraph is rather short because he see something much more problematic. Reno writes,

I am especially concerned to set aside distracting and epiphenomenal concerns about modern critical scholarship, pro or con, because this commentary has an enemy that I think much more important: the gnostic temptation. Who hasn't felt its appeal? It is a painful fact that the diversity of nations and cultures has not led to a brilliant pageant of difference, but instead to our bloody world of conflict. Moreover, our own cultural inheritance is fraught with painful moral demands and offensive social mores. The labels of accusation are familiar: racism, ethnocentrism, heterosexism, patriarchy, and most of all the general horror over the way in which we allow the past to claim authority over us. What sensitive observer would not conclude that our historical particularity seems a curse, not a blessing? Our bodies seem no less troublesome. We feel ourselves battered by our fickle desires. We age and decay. Visit a graveyard, and ask yourself, Are our bodies anything other than crumbling prisons?
Who, then, would want to find a way to transcend the cruel restrictions of history and throw off the rusting chains of the body? It was the dream of the Greeks, who contemplated unchangeable forms. It is the hope of modern philosophers, who try to replace hard-won virtue with method and to set aside the vagaries of judgment by appeals to logical and experimental certainties. It is the desire of any spiritual seeker who wants to transcend the differences that separate religions and cultures in order to dwell in their deeper, greater truth. It is the project of the modern educator, who wants critical reason to supervene over and sift through the demands of an inherited culture. It motivates plastic surgery to stave off the wrinkling ravages of time, and it endorses euthanasia in the hope that an act of the human will can somehow control and triumph over death itself.
Beginning with Irenaeus, many have observed that the account of creation in Genesis cuts against the gnostic temptation. The world that God has created is good, and therefore it can't be the problem we need to overcome. The observation is certainly true as far as it goes, but it doesn't go far enough, because the goodness of creation has never been regarded by Jews and Christians as the full and final goodness that God wills for his creatures. God tenses creation with the desire for the seventh day of divine rest, and this greater-than-creation goal seems always to tempt us to turn our spiritual lives into an upward reach that seeks to escape the bonds of finitude. God promises more--and we too easily interpret more as other, as the sweet nectar of the eternal that will palliate our vulnerability to decay and death, as the balm of the indubitable, universal, and necessary truth that will cure our wounded, unpredictable, unreliable wills. My overriding goal in this commentary is to block this slide from more to other.
For Jews, the more is the Torah, and for Christians, the more is Christ crucified and risen. The difference is incalculable, all the more so because it contests over the inheritance of promises that both Jews and Christians trace back to Abraham. Jews and Christians are not ships passing in the night. They collide in daylight. The history that has grown out of this collision is painful to contemplate. Nonetheless, Jews and Christians share a common theological judgment, one vividly present in Genesis. God does not give to Abraham anything remotely resembling what we hope for in our perennial and persistent gnostic dreams. True enough, the blessing that God promises is rest in fellowship with him. But God does not remain on a remote heavenly throne while we mutilate our humanity to get to him in vain efforts of spiritual ascent. God comes to us. He gives us a new future in the flesh, not a new metaphysical location. I hope that I do not tax the patience of readers by repeating this truth again and again. (Reno, Genesis, Brazos Press, 2010, pp. 26-27)

Given today's milieu, I do not think Reno could repeat it enough. The physical world matters. Our physical bodies matter. If they did not matter, I suspect either God would not created a physical world to begin with, or else he would have had us mark ourselves as his people with physical acts, circumcision and baptism.

I am very ready to read this commentary...

Jim Wallis on the Tea Party...

I received a column by Jim Wallis by email today, but it can also be found on the Sojourners website. I think Jim raises some good questions about the Tea Party. His last point about racism is interesting and worth asking but I wonder if it will do more harm to his witness than good. Nonetheless this column is a good starting point for reflection.

Here is an excerpt:

Libertarianism is a political philosophy that holds individual rights as its supreme value and considers government the major obstacle. It tends to be liberal on cultural and moral issues and conservative on fiscal, economic, and foreign policy. This “just leave me alone and don’t spend my money” option is growing quickly in American life, as we have seen in the Tea Party movement. Libertarianism has been an undercurrent in the Republican Party for some time, and has been in the news lately due to the primary election win of Rand Paul as the Republican candidate for a Senate seat in Kentucky. Paul has spoken like a true Libertarian, as evidenced by some of his comments since that election last week.

He cited the Civil Rights Act as an example of government interference with the rights of private business. Paul told an interviewer that he would have tried to change the provision in the 1964 Civil Rights Act that made it illegal for private businesses to discriminate on the basis of race. He answered a specific question about desegregating lunch counters by countering, “Does the owner of the restaurant own his restaurant? Or does the government own his restaurant?”

A few days later, he spoke about the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. Referring to the Obama administration’s criticisms of BP, Paul said, “I think that sounds really un-American in his criticism of business.”

Is such a philosophy Christian? In several major aspects of biblical ethics, I would suggest that Libertarianism falls short.

Cross: Christian or civic symbol

Thanks to Chris Duckworth for retweeting the following blog's link. But it is a fascinating question for us. Cathy Lynn Grossman writes on Faith & Reason, USA Today's religion blog. She mentions today the recent ruling by the Supreme Court that may allow the use of a cross as a national war memorial in "Is the cross a sign for Christ or just civic sculpture?"

While I am undoubtedly swayed by Justice Stevens' comment in the article, "The cross is not a universal symbol of sacrifice. It is the symbol of one particular sacrifice, and that sacrifice carries deeply significant meaning for those who adhere to the Christian faith." The use of a particular religion's symbol by the state is problematic.

The separation of church and state is important for a number of reasons, but most of all for maintaining clarity of the church's mission. If we promulgate the belief that we live a nation where the cross begins to represent all (even though it does not), then there is certainly room for people to believe that simply living in this nation makes them a Christian. We continue the notion that religion is something merely to be assented to, a system of rules to follow for us all to get along.

But the mission of the Church is about inviting people into a relationship with the crucified and risen Christ. We are not just a social organization that does good works. We are about proclaiming the gospel. If the government is able to utilize any religion's symbol (here the cross) as its own, then when our proclamation of the gospel runs counter to the governing authority's declaration, the question arises "Who is authentic?" It is inevitable that people will exchange the gospel for something else.

The Church should rise up against the use of the cross as a general symbol. Not for pluralism's sake, but for clarity of mission.

Brief Q&A session with Stanley Hauerwas

Stanley Hauerwas has written a memoir. Publisher's Weekly has a very brief Q&A with him. Within the first paragraph there is a link to a brief review of Hannah's Child: A Theologian's Memoir. If he writes this memoir with the same clarity and boldness of his other works, it should be fantastic. I for one am looking forward to it.

Film and Theology: Our story and God's story -- through the lens of Hellboy

I have found film to be a fertile ground for theological reflection, particularly with youth and even in congregational use. I decided then to use films during Lent to talk about our story, that is, the narratives most of our culture/society use to bring meaning to our lives, defined mainly by film, although you could also make the case for television, books and music, and how these stories resonate with God's story (or run counter to God's story as the case sometimes might be).

On our first gathering, in the midst of Vespers, I used the Tim Burton film, Big Fish. There the theme of story that brings about meaning is so prevalent, the film begs to be used. In such a traditional father-son conflict, the son defines himself over and against the tales his father tells, until his father, lying on his death bed, invites the son into the story. This invitation, I said, is much the same invitation we have in Lent, to enter into God's story and see our story in light of what God is doing in the world. The bible is after all, primarily a story that spans time and space, encapsulating the beginning and end of creation, giving us the truth about the One who is present and active throughout it all, bringing it to a glorious perfection.

Last night I wrestled with what to do. How do we engage the story of creation without dealing with the fallen and broken nature of our world and our lives? I decided to use the movie Hellboy. Originally a comic book by Mike Mignola, Hellboy is somewhere at the heart of the question. The opening voiceover asks, "What makes a man a man? Is it his beginning?" Are we fallen creatures bound to remain that way forever? Are we who are born into sin, unable to fear, love and trust God, destined to be so?

Well, no, the film makes the claim. Caught between two conflicting narratives, two conflicting identities, Hellboy hears the power of the one, granting freedom from the old identity. Begging him to open the gate for the demonic power, one villain yells, "You are the Right Hand of Doom!" Literally we come to understand that his massive right hand is itself the key to unlock the gate. In the next moment Hellboy's associate, a young agent, grasps for a set of rosary beads, yells out, "Remember who you are!" and flings the beads toward him. The cross lands in his palm, burning a mark into his palm, so reminiscent of the cross marked on our brows in baptism. There we are marked with identity that comes from outside of us. In the film, it is said that we have the power to choose between good and evil. If we understand this outside of the identity granted to us as children of God, this is patently false. If however, we understand that in the power of the gospel that we, fallen and rebellious creatures, are granted the identity of children of God, and therefore God gives us the power to choose then absolutely yes! The quote from John1:12 rings here, "But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God."

Given the strength of that message, I decided ultimately to use the film, although I was aware that some of the scenes were violent in nature. I wrestled with this because I did not know how it would be received. I did let the folks in attendance know that there would be violent scenes, although in my appraisal it was cartoonish, comic-style violence. I told people if they felt they needed to they should avert their eyes. In the end, one person left and she and I talked about it. I apologized that my choice made her feel like she needed to leave. But the others remained and it seemed to be that it was helpful to prime the theological pumps to wrestle with evil in our worlds, in fact in our very selves.

In some ways, comic-book violence, with the battles between good and evil are a safe place to explore the realities of a broken world. Demons and Nazis and warfare might seem like they do not belong in the church, but they are a reality of the world and we should name them for what they are, enemies of God. As I reflected upon the violent aspects of Hellboy, I thought about the role of Grimm's Fairy Tales, not the sanitized Disney versions mind you, but the original tales. They were often gruesome, with children being eaten by wolves, or evil vain queens placing younger, more beautiful people under spells. These grotesque tales allowed parents and others to tell of the dangers of the world without causing children to withdraw entirely. They were not meant as ethical tales, but more often than not to describe a reality. There is evil in the world, and we best be cautious.

In the light of a culture and society, who believe that people are mostly good even with their flaws, we lose the ability to name evil as evil. We fail in our wrestling with our very selves to see the power of sin at work in our members. We become deaf to the power that the gospel unleashes to hear that we are free from the oppression to sin, that we are given the power to choose what God desires, even if we still fall short. We need these stories of evil, mainly to tell lay bare the illusions of the world, that is mostly well; that it just might need a little tweaking.

Then we may realize with Paul in Romans 7, "Wretched man that I am! Who shall deliver me from this body of death?" Having named the evil for what it is, even that evil within us, we may then acclaim the following verse, " Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord! " (Rom. 7:25)

Discipline

Over the past week, much of our attention has been focused on the Olympic games in Vancouver. Feats of strength, grace, speed, agility and engineering have been placed on a stage for all the world to see. And for the most part, we are awed and amazed at the athletes’ abilities; their precision, their nerves, their endurance. But I would like you to consider for a moment the path by which those amazing athletes arrived there.

With very little exception, these athletes have been training for decades for this moment. They might only get one shot at their event, but they have prepared for that moment. A great athlete is not made in the one performance, but in the countless hours over the many years of practice. How many leaps have skaters practiced? How many hills have skiers zoomed down? How many stones have curlers thrown? And of course, how often have they learned their lessons with their very body? Falls, bruises, concussions, all are part of it. But some of their greatest lessons happen when they fail. The great ones turn those failures into a vehicle for later victory.

I would argue that for Christians, as for world-class athletes, there is not much difference. The early church theologian Tertullian was quoted as saying, “Christians are made, not born.” While we rely on the Father’s activity in Christ through the power of the Spirit to mark and identify us as children of God in the waters of baptism, our lives of faith are not complete then and there. We require training and discipline. Thankfully God has given us many ways to be schooled in Christian virtue that we may be formed into Christ’s image to lead lives of holiness and righteousness. In Mark 13:11, Jesus tells his followers, “When they bring you to trial and hand you over, do not worry beforehand about what you are to say; but say whatever is given you at that time, for it is not you who speak, but the Holy Spirit.” While we might be worried that our whole witness to God might come down to one spontaneous moment. We need not fear. The Holy Spirit can be working ahead of time to prepare us for that moment. Our lives can be lives that prepare for those moments when the Holy Spirit calls upon us.

In Lent we are given an opportunity for intense discipline, not primarily meant to punish or deprive, but to prepare. Christ’s time in the wilderness fasting was not a weakening but a means of strength and preparation. We too can enter into the ways that God gives us— repentance, prayer, fasting, almsgiving, works of mercy—that we may be formed into the people that we are called to be. And much of our time in Lent is spent contemplating the deep brokenness we make known in our lives, the ways we do not measure up to the people we are called to be, the ways we have chosen less than what God chose for us, the ways we have turned inward to focus on ourselves for our own benefit. In Lent we may turn toward God, away from our self, and enter into this discipline and preparation. The words of exhortation spoken by Christ we hear anew as words of grace and transformation.

Lent is a gift. A gift to see ourselves as God sees us, fallen creatures who might be redeemed to be a people who bring forth his glory. We can begin to grasp the transformation that is beginning to mold us. It begins with God’s words of grace to us, and continues in the repentance and prayer, in the discipline of this season.

Stark Reminders...

A few years ago, probably during my second Ash Wednesday service, but it might have been my first, as presider, I was a little shocked when a boy in the congregation came forward to receive ashes. He was probably in second grade or thereabouts. As I smeared those black sooty ashes upon his forehead, reciting the ominous reminder, "Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return," I found grief welling up in my throat. Death, unnatural death, came close. Here I was telling an eight-year old boy, "Remember son, you will die." It was unexpected and full of emotion.

Telling children that they are going to die has become easier. I even managed to tell my own son, six years old, those very words last night. But yesterday I also had adults who are wrestling with death in a very real way. A spouse of a member came forward to receive ashes. He had just recently receied word of a very serious cancer in his body. I wondered at how useful it was for him to hear, "Remember that you are dust and to dust your shall return." Another member told me of having a biopsy scheduled for today. The reality of death draws near. This news of biopsies and PET scans are stark reminders that in our broken world, even our bodies rebel against us. Perhaps they serve as starker reminders than the ashen smudge on our foreheads. Are they even necessary?

But those ashes serve an even starker reminder. They are not applied as mere smudges. They follow the same pattern as an earlier anointing. Those ashes are imposed on our foreheads in cruciform manner. Even in the midst of death, there is no need for despair. Cancer spreads? Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return. And Christ is there, promising new life to those he has chosen. All of the ways that we die and are isolated from neighbor and God are made clear on Ash Wednesday, but they are not stronger than God's intentions for us. These ashes are indeed a stark reminder for us. But mainly they should be a stark reminder of God's love for us, a love that is meant to bring about a new life in the Kingdom.

Science Fiction, Fantasy and Amateur Theologians

First, I looked at my blog and realized that I haven't posted anything since the Wednesday after the second Sunday in Advent. What a schlub! I could blame it on the rush of Christmas, the death of my grandfather, my vacation, the computer travails that continue to plague me... but I won't. (Or DID I do just that?!?! hmmm.... ;) )

Anyway, today thanks to SFSignal, I listened to an interesting podcast interview at The Geek's Guide to the Galaxy over at Tor.com. The hosts,John Joseph Adams and David Barr Kirtley, were talking with Cherie Priest. They were really ranging all over the place. But there was a good deal of discussion, not just of zombies and steam punk, but of religion. Cherie Priest, raised as a Seventh Day Adventist, which she describes, admittedly exaggerated, as an "eschatological cult." What was interesting to listen to was her own journey through the parochial world of Christian schools, and then the Goth sub-culture, and her own coming to peace with religion. Clearly religion has had a profound influence on her, both positively and negatively. Clearly she has wrestled with the institutional aspect of Christianity, and the nature of certainty in the beliefs we each hold to be sacred.

She recounted the conversation she had with both her mother and father on "How do we know that what we believe is true in opposition to all others?" The two responses were very different but typical. Her mother's response was "Because the Bible says so..." Her father's was "Well, we don't." I don't find it a surprise at all then that Cherie Priest (I find the last name highly ironic) ends up writing science fiction and fantasy of a dark morbid type. What better venue to wrestle with the questions of our time by placing them in a foreign context and shining a light on them so that here and now we might find some clarity. It is not all that different from writing apocalyptic literature to criticize a current regime. Dark foreboding images and secret codes and a literal battle between light and darkness... everything set in a strange land so everyone is kept off-guard and thus perhaps open to hear criticism aimed at them.

A fascinating interview whether one agress with her or not... I am however left with the question? How shall one reframe the gospel for such a person? Not change the content, but reframe the discussion to begin to address the questions people such as Cherie, highly educated, deeply skeptical, will raise? And how do we include them in the conversation so that the church might hear what is needed to be heard from voices such as these?

I found this interview incredibly provocative.

Wednesday of Advent 2 -- Vespers Sermon

Electricity was out tonight so we did not have Vespers. Sorry if anyone came out to the church to find nothing there.

But here is the sermon I wrote for tonight's service.
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Rev. 1:17-2:7¹⁷When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead. But he placed his right hand on me, saying, “Do not be afraid; I am the first and the last, ¹⁸and the living one. I was dead, and see, I am alive forever and ever; and I have the keys of Death and of Hades. ¹⁹Now write what you have seen, what is, and what is to take place after this. ²⁰As for the mystery of the seven stars that you saw in my right hand, and the seven golden lampstands: the seven stars are the angels of the seven churches, and the seven lampstands are the seven churches.

2“To the angel of the church in Ephesus write: These are the words of him who holds the seven stars in his right hand, who walks among the seven golden lampstands: ²“I know your works, your toil and your patient endurance. I know that you cannot tolerate evildoers; you have tested those who claim to be apostles but are not, and have found them to be false. ³I also know that you are enduring patiently and bearing up for the sake of my name, and that you have not grown weary. ⁴But I have this against you, that you have abandoned the love you had at first. ⁵Remember then from what you have fallen; repent, and do the works you did at first. If not, I will come to you and remove your lampstand from its place, unless you repent. ⁶Yet this is to your credit: you hate the works of the Nicolaitans, which I also hate. ⁷Let anyone who has an ear listen to what the Spirit is saying to the churches. To everyone who conquers, I will give permission to eat from the tree of life that is in the paradise of God.

A few years ago my wife and I along with the boys traveled to Las Vegas, not as you might expect for a new seminar in a new strategy for growing church offerings, but for the high school graduation of my wife’s niece. We spent almost a full week there. I even had the opportunity to attend church (a Missouri Synod congregation even!). Given both the ELCA’s and Missouri Synod’s stance in social statements against institutionalized establishment of gambling (lotteries, table games, video poker, etc.) Mary Lynne and I wondered what it would be like to be a congregation whose offering plate is mostly full of gambling-related revenue. A good portion of the people living there exists to either serve the casinos directly, or indirectly, since without say, super markets, people would have a hard time living there. So people’s salaries were being paid directly or indirectly from the casinos and hence, directly or indirectly, weekly offering was coming from these grand temples of Chance.

And of course a great deal of secondary industry springs up around these temples, walk down the Strip without a child in hand and you will be given numerous cards advertising the strip clubs. Move a little farther out of town and you find places where things go beyond simply stripping, as if that wasn’t bad enough. The system is completely turned around and upside down. But what is a church to do? Do they refuse any offering connected to these industries? And how would they know what money was coming from where since the casino money would be funneled through legitimate jobs anyway?

For Christians in Ephesus, I might wonder the same. Except perhaps it was worse. Ephesus was one of, if not THE most important city in the Roman Empire, outside of Rome itself. Located at the exit of the Cayster River into the Mediterranean, Ephesus was a major commercial city. Vast amounts of goods, of all sorts, moved through Ephesus. The temple of the goddess Artemis was there as well, which could mean a great deal of behavior that might make Vegas seem tame in comparison, making the city a religious power as well. And Ephesus was a major administrative outpost of the Empire which meant Ephesus was given the title of “free city.” Rome had granted to Ephesus no small amount of autonomy in ruling itself. It held a great deal of latitude in what went on there.

With all the activity supporting powers and principalities that often stood against the way of life in the Christian community, what was a church to do? Give in? Allow itself to be co-opted? That doesn’t seem to be the word that they receive from Jesus in the letter addressed to them. He says, “I know your works, your toil and your patient endurance. I know that you cannot tolerate evildoers; you have tested those who claim to be apostles but are not, and have found them to be false. ³I also know that you are enduring patiently and bearing up for the sake of my name, and that you have not grown weary.” Jesus knows, he says, of their works, that is their toil and patient endurance. Despite their incredible minority status, they have held fast to a particular way of life. Their zeal might have dimmed, but they have not grown weary. In the midst of things that threaten their lives as well as their souls, the church in Ephesus has maintained a witness for Jesus’ sake.

Thus is the task of the church in any place to patiently endure, to work for God’s kingdom, using the very security provided by earthly powers to ultimately subvert them. After all, the earthly kingdoms will end one day. They will gather around Christ, cast their crowns before his feet returning any authority granted unto them. The churches continue on in such work. They will take what the world gives, patiently enduring, proclaiming the gospel to a world distracted by temples of other gods, whether Artemis or Caesar or Chance.

And the church will do so at the risk of its very life, maybe with great fear. But the church is reminded by John the Seer, our faithful scribe, that even people who fall down dead, are raised by the touch of the Lord. For he “was dead, and see, I am alive forever and ever; and I have the keys of Death and of Hades.” He holds power over death and hell, and therefore nothing that belongs to him can be taken away forever from him. His power over the powers is for us the source of our patient enduring. And he continues to walk among us candlesticks, us lights to the world, and he encourages us and moves us that we might continue to work for the kingdom.

Advent and Eschatology

The texts of Advent seem to confuse many. Rather than mirror the schmaltzy version of Christmas in the malls and on television, the season of Advent gives us tales of the end. Prophetic texts that speak of God's restoration of creation, or of the rich and powerful getting their just desserts. We hear John the Baptist cry, "You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?" Or we hear Mary's song where the hungry are filled with good things, the rich sent away empty, the lowly lifted up and the mighty cast down. Tales of God's undying promise that all the brokenness of the world will be taken away.

Today I began to read an essay by Wolfhart Pannenberg, "The Task of Christian Eschatology" and his opening rang so true for me. Pannenberg wrote:

Contemporary Christian doctrine has to live up to an inevitable conflict, not with human reason, but with the secularist culture. The truth of Christian doctrine cannot be maintained where Christian proclamation gives priority to the secular mentality. It has to challenge that mentality and its prejudices. Of course, Christian doctrine is related to the predicament of human life in our world. Since secularism produces meaninglessness, the human person suffers from the lack of meaning. There is a need, then, for the Christian message, perhaps more urgently so than in other periods of human history. But the message can reach its adressess if the prejudices of secularism against Christianity can be overcome.
This applies especially to the Christian eschatological hope for a life beyond death. This hope is sharply opposed to the emphatic wordliness of our secular culture. It is under suspicion of escapism, as if it would cheat people out of the fulfillment of their liveson this earth. Gratitude for this life is an essential part of the Christian belief in the creation of this world by God. But the secular mentality exaggerates what we may expect from this finite and moral life. People expect sex to yield a degree of satisfaction and happiness that it cannot grant without love and fidelity. Political order is expected to produce perfect justice and lasting peace without violence or oppression. But our century has seen totalitarian regimes established precisely in the name of these ideas.

Mid-week Advent 1 Homily

2 Peter 3:1-10
3This is now, beloved, the second letter I am writing to you; in them I am trying to arouse your sincereintention by reminding you 2that you should remember the words spoken in the past by the holy prophets, and the commandment of the Lord and Saviour spoken through your apostles. 3First of all you must understand this, that in the last days scoffers will come, scoffing and indulging their own lusts 4and saying, ‘Where is the promise of his coming? For ever since our ancestors died,* all things continue as they were from the beginning of creation!’ 5They deliberately ignore this fact, that by the word of God heavens existed long ago and an earth was formed out of water and by means of water, through which the world of that time was deluged with water and perished. 7But by the same word the present heavens and earth have been reserved for fire, being kept until the day of judgement and destruction of the godless. But do not ignore this one fact, beloved, that with the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like one day. 9The Lord is not slow about his promise, as some think of slowness, but is patient with you,* not wanting any to perish, but all to come to repentance. 10But the day of the Lord will come like a thief, and then the heavens will pass away with a loud noise, and the elements will be dissolved with fire, and the earth and everything that is done on it will be disclosed.
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Patience. Constantly touted as a virtue, patience ranks up there with the quality “quiet” in running in magnificently short supply in our household. Between the boys not wanting to wait, and me not being able to wait for boys' own waiting, our house does not have much in the way of patience...

Patience is all about the ability to wait. A patient person is able to wait, foregoing more immediately present rewards for something larger to come. Clearly those who seek self gratification, that is, the immediate payoff, are not patient. They have not been formed by the practices of putting off the small reward here and now for the greater reward in the future. I wonder how the economy might be different if instead of seeking the quick short-term gain in stock prices, the CEOs would have been trained in waiting for long-term real value to be added to a company.

Every virtue walks a middle ground between two vices. One vice is the sheer lack of the virtue, but the other is the virtue taken to an extreme. In this sense then the other vice associated with patience is waiting for absolutely nothing. In the play, “Waiting for Godot” by Thomas Beckett, it remains to be seen if the two main characters, Estragon and Vladmir, are exercising the virtue of patience or in fact have moved beyond patience to idleness. While much can be made of the endurance and discipline needed for patience, it is folly to continue to wait and work for a fantasy.

But patience cuts between the two extremes, between the excess and deficiency. And those who are disciplined in their waiting often draw criticisms from others. Why wait until you have money saved up to buy the large screen television? Just use the credit card. Why wait until the baby is born to find out its gender? Do it now! Or on the deficient side, the college buddy who can't understand the friend who is getting married, cutting off his choices, so to speak. We may wait for someone, but not an endless list of options. There must be something tangible at hand for which we wait.

And that is perhaps the criticism that Peter is hearing when he writes, in the last days scoffers will come, scoffing and indulging their own lusts 4and saying, ‘Where is the promise of his coming? For ever since our ancestors died,* all things continue as they were from the beginning of creation!’” Nothing is changing. Nothing is any different. You are not waiting for anything!!! Everything is just as it always has been. We have nothing to fear. There is no final end. We need not hear of return and judgment. Why hasn't it happened if God were going to do it? You're not patient. You're misguided. You have fallen into vice.

But Peter assures his readers and us that any delay is not a mark of our deficiency in patience, but actually a mark of God's patience. He is indeed waiting for the fullness of time before he executes his judgment and he will then act, and decisively so. But God's vision is not like ours. For him to wait and endure entails a waiting of love and grace, allowing that humans might be given the fullest amount of time to repent, to turn again to God God's patience is rooted in his love for humans so that none of them might perish. God endures the continued brokenness of the world, the unbelief, the recurrent transgressions. God is disciplined to wait for something greater to come. Christ was able to be patient, that is, endure the suffering brought upon him by the world, that he might be raised and become the way to eternal life.

We now are grasped by Christ's grace that we too might partake in this divine patience. The eternal Word, Christ, the Son of God, created this very world and now upholds and sustains it so that we might endure bearing witness to the scoffers, that in fact things are changing. Our very lives are being transformed, being made holy, sanctified, as a sign for the ultimate act that God will bring about with a loud noise and elements being dissolved by fire, and everything done on earth will be made known.

But we are not born patient. Nor do we remain so without some aid. God has given us practices in the church that we might endure in the faith until the end, either of our lives or Christ's coming. To endure in the faith, one chief practice is prayer. Christ has given us his name to call upon in every assault of the devil, the world or our own broken selves.

We are given the witness of the martyrs who suffered, and continue to suffer, for the sake of the gospel. Remembering those who stand firm while under persecution has been a source of strength for the church, and not a source of embarrassment or shame. We learn to endure by the witness they provide.

We are given this season of Advent. In the midst of gross and conspicuous consumption that could not even wait for Thanksgiving, the Church resists, remembering not just the birth of Jesus, but dwelling on his coming. Retailers are desperate for our money. They work hard to get us to hand over our money, to consume great quantities. In essence they tell us, “Forget that future stuff. Get the good life now! This is the great promise! This is what we were created for! YOU.CAN.HAVE.IT.ALL.”

But Advent calls us back to prayer, devotion and remembrance. As we gather in the growing darkness of winter, we may realize that we enter into God's very character of patience. Waiting, watching, and praying for the redemption of a broken world... witnessing to the very promises of God—promises for which he endured and continues to endure so much.

Thanks be to God.

Christ as Adversary...

The prophet Amos proclaimed:

They do not know how to do right, says the LORD, those who store up violence and robbery in their strongholds. Therefore thus says the Lord GOD: An adversary shall surround the land, and strip you of your defense; and your strongholds shall be plundered. (Amos 3:10-11)

Very often, we are tempted to think of Christ in only terms of brother, friend, shepherd, king, Lord... maybe even judge. Today's reading however sparked my thinking about Christ as adversary.

Amos came bearing the word of the Lord unto the people in an age of great prosperity and expansion under the reign of Jeroboam II (786-746 B.C.). Amos preached against over reliance on military might, the injustice done to poor and outcast, and grave immorality. Just read the second chapter of Amos. Judah and Israel do not come off looking good at all. Amos proclaims in the midst of such a world that it is God's might that will prevail, not Israel's human might.

In this season of Advent, as we read of Christ's coming in the clouds, we might be left thinking that Christ comes to take away those very folks who store up violence and robbery. And that is so... however we too must see ourselves in the same boat. Insofar as we are complicit with the powers that seek to take others' lives, to not protect our neighbor's property, we are the very same ones. Christ comes to surround us, strip away our defenses, and plunder our strongholds.

And this should be heard as good news. For when Christ comes to us, he desires that we live. Our reliance on power and might must die. Our consumption of goods, services, food, resources of the earth must cease. All of the ways that our fallen, sinful self participates in the brokenness of the world must taste death; a death meted out by our adversary, Christ. But this Christ, our adversary, is also the adversary who is our Lord. Our Lord is not the violent rampaging Mars, or the Invisible Hand of the Market, but the very Lord of Life, who comes that we might die, so he might raise us up to new life.

Even as an adversary, Christ does not work the way the world would. In the world the adversary seeks to crush and destroy its opponents. Christ seeks only to crush and destroy so that he might raise up and redeem, thereby showing his love and power are what will rule in the end.

Thanksgiving and Black Friday

My friend Mike over at Catholic Anarchy wrote an impressive post about the practice of Thanksgiving. One particular interesting passage:

Pro-life Christians who choose to be thoughtful about such things should be deeply troubled by the reality of Thanksgiving. Indeed, it is perhaps the holi-day par excellence of the culture of death. Of course, the best option for Christians would be simply not celebrating Thanksgiving at all. After all, Christians have their own thanksgiving, only we use its Greek name, eucharist. It is a celebration of liberation and resurrection, not invasion and extermination. It is a celebration that embodies new familial relationships not based on blood or nationality but our common life in Christ. It is a celebration whose purpose is not to say “thank you for all the stuff we have when others are not so fortunate,” but rather “thank you for inviting all of us to this table.” And of course, the one we thank is the Author of Life, the One who is not to be replaced by sentimentalism or the idols of state, of “freedom,” of “choice” and the like. No wonder Jesus made the eucharist a vegetarian feast, a true foretaste of the banquet of the Kingdom of God.

Of course, for most of us, myself included, not celebrating Thanksgiving is simply not realistic. With a one-year old child and having just moved back to the u.s. from Canada after over three years away from family and friends, I am not about to be so politically smug that I would simply refuse to participate in my own family’s traditions. On the other hand, I’m not sure that Thanksgiving can truly ever be redeemed unless it includes attention to the reality behind it, perhaps through the observance of a National Day of Atonement. A “let’s just look at the bright side” approach to Thanksgiving, an approach historically-conscious liberal american Christians tend to choose, simply will not cut it.

If anything, I am suggesting that Christians should bear the above realities in mind during this holi-day, and should, in some significant and deliberate way, make their celebration of american Thanksgiving different somehow this year, and every year. Christians, if they are to celebrate this dangerous holi-day, should in doing so make clear that they are citizens of a different empire, the Empire of God, and that this empire has its own story that exposes the lies of the earthly kingdoms’ mythologies, especially those of the united states of america. Exposing the lies of the american myth of Thanksgiving, in one way or another, must be a part of any serious pro-life celebration of the holi-day. Anything less would mean participation in an ideological cover-up which silences the historical and present-day victims of american empire. As “resident aliens” within the american empire, any eucharist that the People of God celebrates should look very different from the eucharist of the empire.

Read the whole entry here.

Then of course, we have the following day, Black Friday, when we celebrate the triumph of consumer gods. Buy, buy, buy. The juxtaposition is fascinating. Thanksgiving deals with the oppression of the native peoples and now we continue to buy our goods, many of which are made in third world sweatshops, just so we can continue to thank God for the blessings we have received... at an incredibly low price.

If Mike calls for subversion of Thanksgiving, this holiday season let us subvert the shopping season that is set upon us by the corporate shills. Don't buy stuff. Follow Jesus. Remember the poor, the outcast, the lowly... the ones God remembers. If you need some help see the ELCA Good Gifts catalog.

Quck and Easy Dying

I think it is safe to say that we hear often the desire for a quick and easy death. Someone slips away in the midst of sleep, and sure enough folks when recounting the death will remark, "That's how I'd like to go." No anguish. No suffering. No burden to anyone else. And I understand that.

However, I have been struck several times while praying the Great Litany, that we pray for the Lord to deliver us from "an unprepared and evil death." And today, I read in my appointed readings from For All the Saints a letter from John Huss to his friends in Bohemia while he awaits his own death. He writes,

I am writing you once more, gracious and faithful friends in God, to show my gratitude for as long as I can, even taking pleasure in being able to converse with you by letter. I say to you that the Lord knows why He postpones my death as well as that of my dear brother, Master Jerome, of whom I have hopes that he will holily, without guilt, and that he conducts himself and suffers more bravely than I, a fainthearted sinner. The Lord God granted us a long time that we may better recollect our sins and forthrightly to regret them. He has granted us time so that the long-drawn-out and great testing may divest us of great sins and bring us consolation. He has granted us time to remember our King, the merciful Lord God Jesus' terrible disgrace, and to meditate on his cruel death and, for that reason, to suffer more gladly.

He also goes on to mention the sufferings of saints and martyrs and how it would seem strange for himself not to suffer in the face of his "brave stand against wickedness."

At the heart of the matter is the reality that death is something for which we must be prepared. For even in death are we called to witness to our God, the Lord over life and death. To acknowledge the coming of death allows us to be prepared so that we need not slink away, but face it head on in the sure and certain hope of resurrection. We may also reconcile with those with whom we are estranged.

This is not to suggest that all those who desire a quick death are unfaithful cowards. But it would be, I think, wise to return to the language and practices that prepare us for death. Whether we are the dying, or the ones who remain after a loved one remains. This return is not just a "better make sure Aunt Suzie knows Jesus before she slips away," but an encompassing set of practices where we remember the dead who have gone before us, a more open and conscious use of the commendation of the dying throughout the process. Even praying Compline on a regular basis where the line between physical sleep and death is blurred. We really do not need to fear death, nor suffering. No one likes to see a loved one suffer. But can we see Christ present there in the one suffering? Can we reach out to that one who bears witness to Christ's suffering to us and care for him as if he or she were indeed Christ?

God's Story and Ours

I signed up for a daily quote to be sent to my email from Runner's World. They are meant to inspire and motivate. Sometimes they do. Sometimes, they don't. Today's quote, though, made me think. It read:

Nonrunners cannot see how they can afford the time to run every day. But runners cannot imagine getting through a single day without it. --Kevin Nelson, The Runner's Book of Daily Inspiration

Ok... granted, I don't run every single day (and I would include bike/swim in this list as well). And yes, the sloth within me REALLY looks forward to those rest days during the week, but I do understand this. And many people who don't run, often voice the opening part. "I just can't find the time..." Well, you're not going to find it. You make it. You rearrange your priorities so that you do it. You make time.

But today I thought along a parallel path. Replace the concept of running with "biblical reading." Daily biblical reading, time set aside in devotion and prayer, is something that few of us do. Mainly because it takes time. And there are always demands on our time. Work, family, life in general. How do we find the moment where we can squeeze reading the bible in? Well,
the answer is simple. We don't. We can't. We make it.

And I would like to make bold and audacious claims about by making a few minutes to read the bible and pray, everything going on in life will seem better and all the blocks of life will click into place. But I cannot. Sometimes things will go smoother. Sometimes they will not. Life intervenes. But by making time to read the story of God and God's people, I think we find one thing. That we too are in the midst of that story. That in all of those crazy distractions and hectic pace, we find that Jesus is there in our midst. Making time to read this great story of what God is up to, reminds us again and again that God is up to something even with us, even if we don't know exactly what it is at the time.

I am posting a weekly lectionary on my congregation's blog for the Confirmation class (It comes
out of Augsburg Fortress' Lutheran Study Bible. It's the Sampler Lectionary, just a few verses a day). Read along. Enter into this grand story and see where yours is interwoven with it.

Moses and America

I ran across an excerpt from Bruce Feiler's new book, America's Prophet: Moses and the American Story in a recent issue of Time. The story of Moses, Feiler argues, is ingrained deeply into the story of America. Most notably, the pioneers and immigrants who came here felt a strong connection to a story about slaves being freed and heading to a promised land. Leaving the old world dominated by a Church that seemed heavy-handed and oppressive to them, gave them a kinship to the people of Israel fleeing the hard-hearted Pharoah. But more than that Moses keeps returning again and again. The slaves in America are drawn to Christianity through the story of freed slaves. The Moses story comes back during the Cold War. Moses is a mighty figure in scripture, as well as in this nation. Most entertaining is the connection between the quintessential American superhero and Moses. Felier writes:

With the rise of secularism and the declining influence of the Bible in the 20th century, Moses might have melted away as a role model. But something curious happened. He was so identified as a hero of the American Dream that he superseded Scripture and entered the realm of popular culture, from novels to television.

Superman was modeled partly on Moses. The comic-book hero's creators, two bookish Jews from Cleveland named Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster, drew their character's backstory from the superhero of the Torah. Just as baby Moses is floated down the Nile in a basket to escape annihilation, baby Superman is launched into space in a rocket ship to avoid extinction. Just as Moses is raised in an alien world before being summoned to liberate Israel, Superman is raised in an alien environment before being called to assist humanity.

I don't know if I will spring for a hardback, but I will certainly be keeping an eye out when it goes into paperback.

Unity and Schism in the ELCA

On an entirely unrelated discussion on an internet forum, I was commenting on the Conservative Bible Project, the misguided idea of creating a new biblical translation/paraphrase that makes the bible say what the group would like it to say (really, how do you twist parables to bring out free market principles?).

Well, in the discussion we were having, one member, an ardent Roman Catholic, was beginning to set up the argument that would lead us into debating where the authority of scripture lay, and for him it was bound up in the teaching magisterium of the Roman Catholic Church. this was not a big surprise for me, since he goes there often in these discussions. In order to have the conversation, I picked up the sixth volume of the Lutheran-Roman Catholic Dialogue, Teaching Authority & Infallibility in the Church. It was there that I found a most intriguing comment. In the "Common Statement," it read,

On the Lutheran side, there seems at first glance no room for reassessment. The Reformers' attitude toward papal infallibility was strongly negative. They insisted that in proclaiming the Pauline teaching of justification of the sinner by grace through faith they had a biblical and catholic basis. Consequently they regarded the excommunication of Luther as an arbitrary act, an abuse of papal authority. They viewed the division in the Church as a tragic necessity, as the price they had to pay for fidelity to the Word of God. (p. 13)

While many in the ELCA are talking about leaving, I think this statement still bears repeating. Division in the church might be necessary, but it is tragic and each side must understand that they bear a cost associated with that division. Divide if you must, but don't think your stand is free of costs, even if your side is right. Schism damages the witness of the whole church. The loss of a visible unity, while perhaps necessary for whatever reason, is nothing to be take lightly.

Five hundred years after Luther posted the ninety-five theses on the church door at Wittenberg, the Lutherans and Roman Catholics still refrain from officially sharing the meal that Christ sets before us. In the midst of conversations about what it means to be the church (I am not sure the root of all the strife in the ELCA is just about homosexuality, but more about ecclesiology and the nature of the church), what will the cost of losing visible unity be for all of us?

Torture and faith...

In the October issue of The Atlantic, Andrew Sullivan writes an open letter to President Bush ("Dear President Bush") detailing what he could do to deal with the legacy of the torture that he approved. The letter is well-balanced. Sullivan does not call for President Bush to be punished, but for him to follow President Reagan's lead and take responsibility as Reagan did in the wake of the Iran-Contra scandal.

What I found most interesting though, was the appeal to faith that Sullivan levies. I don't know how convincing his argument is for all Christians, since clearly some Christians support torture or at least seek to redefine activities that clearly fall into the torture family. Sullivan writes,

The other value you have eloquently expressed as essential to your public life is faith. We share that faith, although I am a wayward Catholic and you a born-again evangelical. Our faith tells us that what you authorized is an absolute evil. By absolute evil, I mean something that is never morally justified. I have no doubt that you believed you were doing your duty in protecting the country, and every political leader in a dangerous world has to make decisions that haunt the conscience. But even war, with all its murder and mayhem and abuse and trauma, can still, in our Christian tradition, be deemed just, under certain circumstances. I am not a pacifist by any means. Defending free countries from the architects of 9/11 is just; bringing some semblance of democracy to Iraq was just; unseating the Taliban was just. Even those decisions that cost lives—of young Americans and countless Iraqis and Afghans—can be morally defended by Christians, in good faith and clear conscience, as a last resort. In fact, fighting terrorism and jihadism is, in my view, an eminently just use of military power, if that use of power is constantly subjected to scrutiny and reflection and revision.

But torture has no defense whatsoever in Christian morality. There are no circumstances in which it can be justified, let alone integrated as a formal program within a democratic government. The Catholic catechism states, “Torture which uses physical or moral violence to extract confessions… is contrary to respect for the person and for human dignity.” Dignity is the critical word there. Even evil men are human and redeemable. Our faith demands that, even in legitimate punishment or interrogation, the dignity of prisoners must be respected. Our faith teaches that each of us—even Khalid Sheikh Mohammed—is made in the image of God. To violate that imago Dei by stripping and freezing him, by slamming him against a wall, or strapping him to a board to nearly drown him again and again and again, to bombard him with noise and light until he loses his mind, to reduce a human being to a mental and spiritual shell—nothing can justify this for a Christian. Nothing. To wield that power is to wield evil. And such evil is almost always committed by those who believe they are pursuing good.

One more voice calling for the understanding that each human being bears dignity simply by being created by God. Torture, which ignores that imago Dei, is simply unjustifiable.

Preaching and Christ... yes, it IS about Jesus

Over at Lutherans Persisting, David Yeago, Michael C. Peeler professor of systematic theology at LTSS, wrote a really intriguing piece about preaching. Ultimately our life should be rooted in an encounter with Jesus, not just theological propositions or truths or vague notions of what Jesus was about, but an encounter with Jesus. It seems like an incredibly tall order for this preacher to fill, to think about my preaching being a vehicle by which people might encounter Jesus, but it seems far more worth it than just getting them to laugh each week, or telling some tear-jerking story, or banging on toes with the hammer of the law constantly.

Yeago writes:

1. Most of the sermons I have heard or read over the past several decades have been based on the Gospel lesson, but a majority of them have not really been about Jesus. Sermons tend to get diverted early from the concrete figure of Jesus to focus on some truth, value, imperative, or experiential possibility supposedly represented by Jesus.

2. What good thing does God give us in the gospel? I hear very few sermons that follow Luther (in the Catechisms) in saying that the good thing is having Jesus as our Lord instead of the devil. Instead I hear a lot of abstractions about being accepted (but into what?), stirring but vague rhetoric about new possibilities, and a lot of generic assurance that “God is with you.”

Read the whole post here.