Advent Meditation

“God of God, Light of Light, Very God of Very God...who for us and for our salvation came down” is how one of the early creeds put it. “It,” of course, is Advent. From the Latin adventus meaning “coming,” the word describes a period of preparation, four weeks in length, during which, for centuries, the church has both remembered and reflected on Christ’s first “coming” and anticipated His second and final “coming” (what Paul called the parousi√a). 

I observe, however, that we contemporary Christians are much better at celebrating the first coming of Christ than anticipating the final one. My, how we love the Baby of Bethlehem! He’s so sweet, so gentle, so cuddly lying there in the manger. We don’t need a Cosmic Christ splitting the sky and melting the universe like a dream. The Baby gives us all we need. 

And when we do reflect on His final Advent, it’s more often than not a matter of curiosity. 

“When will it be?”
“Do you have signs of His coming?”
“Do you know the date or place of His coming?” 

Others are too frightened to think about it. Already they’re planning on taking an incomplete, or perhaps calling in sick that day. ;-) 

But it was not so for the first Christians. For them life was both difficult and dangerous, and Advent wasn’t just a time for remembering the Baby of Bethlehem; it was a time for hoping, perhaps the most audacious thing a Christian can do! For the earliest saints, all through the ages, His final coming (His parousi√a ) was a matter of great hope and anticipation, always looking for it, going outside and searching the heavens for a star, listening to the children ask: “When Jesus comes, will he have supper at our house?” They prayed this, you know: “Come Lord Jesus.” Maranatha. 

The word is an Aramaic word, which means that it almost certainly reflects the worship and prayer life of the earliest Jewish Christians, used only once in the entire NT (1 Cor. 16:22 ei“ tiß ouj fileiæ to;n kuvrion, h[tw ana◊qema. mara◊na qa◊. “If anyone does not love the LORD, let him be anathema. Maranatha.) The Aramaic word can be divided in two different ways: maran- atha and marana-tha. Depending on where it is divided, it can mean either “Our LORD comes” (statement) or Our LORD, come!” (prayer). John, writing in the Book of Revelation (22:20) answers the question for us of where to divide the word when he translates maranatha into Greek: Amhvn, e“rcou kuvrie =Ihsou:. “Amen! Come, LORD Jesus!” We now know, thanks to John, that it was a prayer, not a statement, perhaps the earliest prayer Christians ever prayed.

And even today, there are Christians in places where to be a Christ-follower almost certainly means hardship, suffering, and even death, who dare hope this year for Christ’s coming in a way most of us, scurrying about with packages tightly tucked in our arms, cannot imagine; though perhaps some day soon, we shall! 

“Very God of Very God...who for us and for our salvation came (and comes!) down.” Something to think about this year while you’re putting out the Nativity. 

mara◊na qa,◊ 

wayne

The Dangers of Quantitative Morality

Jean Piaget, in his classic work The Moral Judgment of the Child, in his efforts to make the case for developmental morality, pointed out that when human beings are infantile and just beginning to develop their sense of morality (right and wrong) they understand morality exclusively in quantitative, rather than qualitative, terms. Ask a very small child whether it's wrong to steal one piece of candy and they will very likely say "no." But ask the same child if it's wrong to steal a handful of candy and they'll say "yes." Their view of morality is quantitative - big "sins" are bad; little ones, not so much. Piaget goes on to say that as the child "grows up" and matures as a person, they start to see morality in qualitative, rather than quantitative, terms - wrong is wrong, irrespective of the numbers involved. It's a child's morality that says "it's only wrong if harm is done to a large number of people." Making the same point, John Donne, the mystic poet, put it like this: No man is an island...Every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main...Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind.... Therefore, never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

Now, to my point. I find it interesting that when Jay Carney, President Obama's press secretary, was asked last week about the fact that millions of Americans are having their health insurance cancelled as a direct consequence of Obamacare, he responded by saying, "Well, let's be clear: Only 5% of Americans are affected." Of course, a little quick math translates 5% to 15 million people. But I digress. Moreover, Carney did not say that the ethic at work in the Administration's decision-making was "the greatest good for the greatest number." In a world where absolute good is rarely achieved (but still must be pursued!), I could have respected that. But that's not what he said. What he said was "Since only 5% are affected, all this talk about cancellations is 'much ado about nothing.'"

Carney's morality is infantile. (It is also very likely political; that is, at the end of the day "right" and "wrong" are wholly determined by "who wins," a zero-sum game in which "truth" is purely a function of who shows up to vote. Wasn't it President Obama who famously said: "Elections have consequences"? But that's a conversation for another day.)  Carney apparently only thinks harm is done if a large number of people are adversely affected.  Hmmm.  Ponder that for a while.

What is even more troubling to me is that very few have either seen this (the "quantitative" notion of morality latent in his remark) or pointed it out, and among those who have, most think it's okay, which is to say, they share his notion of morality. I find that disquieting. If you want to see how disquieting a notion it is, apply his principle to murder instead of health insurance and suddenly it doesn't sound so "reasonable," does it?

A little "critical thinking" on a Monday morning.

The Other Deficit

Saw a bumper sticker the other day: "Critical Thinking: The Other American Deficit." I've been thinking about that, and how little critical thinking I see in America these days. Those who know me know I don't do "group think," irrespective of what group is doing the "group think." I prefer to do my own thinking, thank you very much. "The mind," they say, "is a terrible thing to waste." With group think, no one does any thinking except the person at the top. He/she decides what the group will think and then issues "talking points" with which the faithful dutifully and uncritically proceed, and which they mindlessly parrot. It matters not whether the talking points manifest inconsistencies, hypocrisies, or gaping defects in logic; they have come down from the top, where all the thinking is done...or not done, and that makes them axiomatic and self-justifying. The casualty in group think, of course, is critical thinking, the real "deficit" in American life. Not doing "group think" has, of course, gotten me in trouble from time to time (if you don't do "group think" no group ever really trusts you), but I sleep pretty well at night.

Part of the reason for the deficit in critical thinking, I'm convinced, is that we no longer teach people how to do it. Critical thinking brings to mind windy lectures on logic with obscure Latin phrases and the like. And besides, it's hard...much harder than just being told what to think. But it need not be hard. Having taught critical thinking for years to my students both at the undergraduate and graduate levels, I've developed a method for teaching critical thinking that is simple, memorable, and doable. I call it "The Three A's of Critical Thinking." If you're interested, I've recorded a brief video lecture on my YouTube page. To view it, click here.

Falling Asleep by James O. Renault

I get lots of church newsletters from former students; an "occupational hazard" of having been in theological education all those years. Most are not worth reading...just programmatic and promotional flotsum. But a long-time friend (since college) who is a United Methodist pastor sent me an article he wrote for his church newsletter that is both poignant and profound. His name is James O. Renault, and he is pastor of the First United Methodist Church in Dade City, Florida. His article follows.

His eyes betrayed him.  Ryder, our eighteen month old grandson, was active as ever, but his eyes said he needed to take a nap.  Judy and I had tried to lay him down earlier but he was having none of it.  Now it was my turn to watch him.  I tried to lay him down next to me.  No go.  I let him run around some more hoping his obvious need for sleep would catch up with him.  No luck.  Then I picked him up and gently swayed back and forth while using a noise that sounds like "ssh...ssh...ssh."  Some call it shushing.  I use it instead of singing because I did not want to give Ryder nightmares.

I gently put my hand on his head, and gradually moved it closer to my shoulder until finally it touched.  After a few minutes, I could feel his little body starting to relax.  His arm fell to his side.  His breathing grew deeper and his body finally went limp.  He was asleep.  I waited a few more minutes before laying him down in the crib, patting his back and still shushing him until I was convinced he was long into his nap.  I left the room as quietly as I could.

I have rocked my children to sleep many times, but that was long ago.  I have put grandchildren to sleep a few times, but again it has been a while ago.  Something about this experience hit me like a ton of bricks.  Having a child fall asleep in your arms is one of the purest forms of love and trust.  When a baby falls asleep in your arms, it means you have surrounded it with a soothing sense of warmth, love, and protection.  Ryder implicitly and completely trusted me with his life.

The more I think about that simple, everyday experience, the more I am convinced that for that sublime moment in time we get as close to God as we are ever going to get in this life.

I believe that is what Jesus felt during his final moments of life.  When He prayed to His Father, "Into your hands I commend my spirit," Jesus used a line from a prayer that Hebrew children often prayed before they went to bed.  I believe in those final moments, God picked Jesus up, laid his head against his shoulder, and gently rocked him back and forth.  All the while God softly whispered in Jesus' ear, "ssh...ssh...ssh."  Then Jesus' body slowly relaxed as he drifted off into God's eternal presence.

That is how I am going to think of death from now on, as simply falling asleep with my head on God's shoulder, surrounded by his love, comfort, and peace.  James O Renault

Waiting to Exhale (Rev. 1:9-20)

A sermon preached at First Baptist Church, Bryson City, NC, on April 21, 2013.

Jubilee Story

Luke 7:36-50

A sermon on forgiveness.

When Was Jesus Born?

A new book by Pope Benedict, Jesus of Nazareth: The Infancy Narratives, has caught the attention of the media and, consequently, has generated quite a few questions. In the book, the Pope acknowledges what scholars have long known; namely, that our current dating scheme is off by anywhere from 4 to 6 years. To put a finer point on it, Jesus was not born in AD 1 as most assume (since AD is a Latin abbreviation for Anno Domini, “the year of the Lord,” it is assumed that Jesus would have been born in the year AD 1, the first “year of the Lord”); Jesus was likely born sometime around 4 to 6 BC (“Before Christ”). How can that be?

Jesus' Wife?

Karen King of Harvard has had an academic paper accepted for publication in the Harvard Theological Review which claims that a fourth century Coptic manuscript fragment (seen left) contains a passage that refers to “Jesus’ wife.” For New Testament scholars, that is not news. However, for the popular media, it’s big news!

Leadership in Biblical Perspective

Just read a paper in one of my classes at Liberty University that absolutely nailed it! She wrote a paper on Paul as Paradigm for Biblical Leadership. Unlike most of the drivel out there I read on leadership in the church, she did not fall prey to the temptation to smuggle in the notion that leadership in the Kingdom of God is exactly the same as leadership in the world. Rather, she set leadership in the church in biblical perspective and came away with the stunning, but (if you actually read the Bible!) obvious conclusion that leadership in the church is purely about calling, not the possession of certain “leadership skills” etc.

Baptist to the Bone

The James Ossuary*

A reliquary (stone box containing sacred relics) was discovered back in 2010 on the Black Sea island of Sveti Ivan (which means "St. John") off the coast of Bulgaria. Inside were eight pieces of bone, including pieces of a skull, face, and a tooth. Because there is a monastery on the island which claims John the Baptist as its patron saint, the excavation leader, Kazimir Popkonstantinov, suggests that the bones might belong to the Baptist. The possibility is strengthened, he suggests, by the fact that found alongside the reliquary was a small sandstone box with a Greek inscription that said, “God, save your servant Thomas. To St. John. June 24.” June 24 is the date celebrated by Christians as the birthday of John the Baptist, and the inscription suggests that a pilgrim had come to the monastery to seek the Baptist’s blessing in the place where, he believed, John’s bones resided. Alternatively, Thomas may have been the patron who built the monastery and, as an act of sanctification, donated the bones of John the Baptist to the monastery as a sacral gift.

The Dumbing of the Church

I wrote a blog recently in which one reader excoriated me for using words like “excoriate.” Noting that my blog is about things theological, he suggested that theology was really quite simple and, therefore, simple words would do just fine when talking about God. He suggested that I lose the polysyllabic morphemes (sorry, I just couldn’t help myself) and replace them with single syllable words on a 5^th grade reading level. Of course, some of us read Shakespeare in the 5^th grade, so that’s no help.

I’ve been hearing this more and more lately, both from laity and clergy. It seems that even when dealing with a subject as complex as the Divine, the motto is KISS – “keep it simple, stupid.” It is symptomatic, I think, of a more serious contemporary ecclesiastical (there I go again!) trend; namely, the “dumbing of the church.”

A Palm Sunday Misconception

This Sunday is Palm Sunday for most Christian churches. Palm Sunday commemorates Jesus’ triumphal approach to Jerusalem (sometimes mistakenly called his “triumphal entry,” but as the Gospel of Mark makes clear, Jesus only approached the city on Palm Sunday, delaying his actual “entry” into the city and the temple until the next day - see Mark 11:11ff.). This is the time of the year when pastors and preachers trot out their “fickle crowd sermons” in which they fulminate about the fickle and feckless crowds who gathered on Palm Sunday to hail Jesus as their king only to turn on him a week later and, complicit in his betrayal and execution, shouted “Crucify him! Crucify him!”

Problem is, while that might make for some passionate homiletical indignation in which the preacher berates the crowd for being feckless and mercurial, that’s not what the text of the Gospel of Mark says happened at all.

The Crux of the Matter

I’m teaching an intensive graduate seminar on the Gospel of Mark this summer at Liberty University. Hadn’t taught Mark for a while, so I welcome the opportunity. Wrote my PhD dissertation on Mark back in the late 70’s. Since then, I’ve gravitated more to other NT documents. But Mark has always haunted me. The power of the story comes through in Mark in a way that it doesn’t in the other canonical Gospels, so much so that the British actor, Alec McCowen, once held audiences spellbound simply by reading the Gospel of Mark on stage in a one-man performance. No commentary was necessary. The story itself carried the freight.

Conversion or Catharsis?

There’s a lot of debate in my denomination right now about the impact and influence of Calvinism, the theological legacy of the 16th century Swiss Reformer whose emphasis on human sinfulness and Divine sovereignty left an indelible mark on Protestantism in all its forms including Baptists. That debate has usually coalesced around the doctrine of election, or more specifically, predestination. But I don’t think Calvin’s doctrine of election is the real issue facing Baptists right now. Rather, I think it’s his soteriology (doctrine of salvation) and his insistence on a “regenerate church membership;” that is, that the church will insist on salvation actually changing a person rather than merely saying they’re changed when they’re clearly not. While most Baptists would agree with  Calvin on the necessity of the regenerate life for the believer, actual church practice is often quite different. Talk to most pastors and they’ll tell you that the number one issue they deal with day in and day out is an unregenerate church membership - pagans masquerading as Christians and wreaking havoc in the church. A “salvation” that leaves me just as pagan as I was before I was “saved” isn’t worth the trouble.

Ecclesiastical Orphans

Preaching guru Fred Craddock, retired from Emory’s Candler School of Theology, often quips: “Anyone who can’t remember any farther back than his or her own birth is an orphan.” He was speaking about the postmodern penchant for individuality and concomitant lack of interest in history and context that tends to disconnect and detach us from any corporate, collective, or contextual sense of the self. We’re like orphans isolated and independent, experiencing the world without family, without memory, without history, without perspective. His point is that humans require context, historical perspective, to know who they are. We are not sui generis creatures, isolated, insular, independent. We are contextual creatures, connected in a nexus of relationships that includes both the living and the dead. Lose the context, forget those connections, and we forget who we are, what we’re about, why we’re here, and where we’re going.

Decisions, Decisions, Decisions

The new year always brings a deluge of decisions, doesn’t it. Is this the year I finally quit my job? Is this the year I lose that ten pounds? Is this the year I ask her to marry me? It’s amazing, isn’t it, how a simple act such as turning a page on the calendar can precipitate so many choices.

Or does it? According to Jerry Coyne, a professor at the University of Chicago, there are no choices to be made, really. What we euphemistically, and somewhat quaintly, refer to as our “decisions” and “choices” are really nothing more than brain chemistry (see his op ed piece in USA Today titled “Why You Don’t Really Have Free Will”). Working from the latest neurobiology, he argues that we are really just “meat computers” in which our brains are “...programmed by our genes and experiences to convert an array of inputs into a predetermined output.” What we incorrectly call our “decisions” or “choices” are really just the way our brains happen to work, nothing more. There is no supra or extra biological or chemical consciousness warranted...or needed. Our will itself, Coyne argues, may be little more than an evolutionary trick played on us by our brain chemistry to help us to “connect the dots” of our actions which, in reality, are nothing more than unconscious biological and chemical processes. “The ineluctable scientific conclusion,” he writes, “is that although we feel that we're characters in the play of our lives, rewriting our parts as we go along, in reality we're puppets performing scripted parts written by the laws of physics.”

Which Jesus?

Back in the late 60’s when I was a freshman in college I ran across a book that was one of those “eye opening” experiences for me. The book, by John Wick Bowman, was titled Which Jesus? It was Bowman’s attempt to provide the reader with what was, at that time, the current state of the research on the so-called Quest of the Historical Jesus. Albert Schweitzer had defined (though not begun) the “Quest” at the beginning of the last century with the publication of his book, The Quest of the Historical Jesus (1906). He was reacting to the publication (by scholars like H. S. Reimarus, Ernst Renan, D. F. Strauss, and Wilhelm Wrede) of what has been called the “Liberal Lives of Christ,” highly imaginative “biographies” of Jesus all of which minimized (or eliminated) his deity and magnified his humanity (as the German title of Schweitzer’s book made clear: von Reimarus zu Wrede: Eine Geschichte der Leben-Jesu-Forschung, “From Reimarus to Wrede: A History of the Life of Jesus Research”). The sticking point in most of these “Liberal Lives” was the fact that the canonical Gospels consistently portray Jesus as a first-century Jewish apocalyptic prophet who heralded the end of the world and the advent of the Kingdom of God in his own life and ministry.

Advent

“God of God, Light of Light, Very God of Very God…who for us and for our salvation came down” is how one of the early creeds of the Church put it. “It,” of course, is Advent. From the Latin adventus meaning “coming,” the word describes a period of preparation, four weeks in length, during which for centuries the Church has remembered and reflected upon Christ’s first “coming” and anticipated His final “coming.” It begins today and culminates on Christmas Eve.

On Judgment and Grace

I spoke on the Book of Revelation yesterday in a day-long study – taught, preached, taught. It was a long, tiring, but a very satisfying and enriching experience. The audience was receptive and engaged, and I enjoyed the exchanges that took place around this marvelous, but often misunderstood, New Testament book.

During the final Q & A, a very thoughtful and perceptive person who had been listening with care as I traversed the mysteries and metaphors of the Apocalypse asked a question that, quite honestly, brought me up short. Overwhelmed with “information overload” of images and scenes of final judgment and the reckoning “The End” inevitably brings, the individual asked, “But where’s the grace?” I perceived this person to be expressing their long-held but largely unexamined conviction that at bottom Christianity is about grace and that all the images of final judgment and reckoning and “score settling” that fill the pages of the Book of Revelation stood at some distance from what they had come to believe that Christianity was all about.

Glimpses of Glory

This is an edited version of a sermon preached at First Baptist Church, Forest City, NC, on March 6, 2011. The text is the Transfiguration from Matthew 17:1-13.