Author: Sara Palmer

  • The gospel according to TED: preaching after ‘ideas worth spreading’

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    The Gospel According to TED:

    Preaching after “Ideas Worth Spreading ”

    Laura Cunningham

    Nauraushaun Presbyterian Church, Pearl River, New ¥©rk

    أam a glutton آﻟﺔthe spoken word. My cravings are satisfied best by news, lectures, talk shows, storytelling, poetry, and sermons, all prepared medium well to well done. In the pulpit I try to manage my habit, although stories from “The Moth” and ‘‘^ i s American Life,” and now TED, inevitably sneak up. A few years ago, a friend sent me a link to Brené Brown,s TED talk on vulnerability ,* introducing me to the cross-disciplinary cuisine of speakers with “ideas worth spreading,” and I’ve been feasting ever since. Recorded talks before live audience from poets, presidents, a sociologist who accompanied sanitation workers, a photographer who depicted a repentant warlord, a brain scientist describing her own stroke, a lawyer advocating for social justice in Alabama criminal courts, a fashion model explaining why looks aren’t everything-all are available for free on the TED website or as podcasts. I can watch at my desk ٢٠on television or listen in my car ٢٠ at my kitchen sink. While I began watching TED talks for personal enjoyment, the approach to speaking began to infiltrate my preaching, to the point that for me TED has become a new pantty of resources for my approach to homiletics. TED began in 1984 as a conference featuring innovations in technology, entertainment , and design (TED) but has grown into a series offilmed lectures, a platform for a wide array of thinkers and activists to share their most innovative ideas worth spreading. Speakers have around eighteen minutes to combine stories, experiences, images, facts, insight, and humor and thus persuade their audience. Talks appeared online for free in2006,andaNovember 12,2014TEDBlog post announced one billion views, at a rate of potentially 1.5 million times a day. Many videos are available in more than forty languages. These statistics suggest not that TED is the sliced bread of spoken word nor a preacher’s panacea, but that people are hungry for words that speak to their minds and hearts, and they will keep watching and listening if they are fed. In other words, pay attention, preacher! While they feature Billy £fraham,Rick Warren,and James Forbes,as well asahost of other religious scholars and philosophers, TED talks are not sermons ﺀع ־/ﺀم .More often, speakers function as secular evangelists for a particular cause ٢٠community, blending personal testimony, persuasion, and expertise for the sake of individual and social transformation. Despite critique that the TED format is too controlled ٢٠the audience too elite, the web site provides access to diverse speakers and topics and elicits comments from around the world, including developing nations. Talks are packaged for easy online streaming, podcasting, linking, and sharing, as their voices go into the world and make followers of all kinds of people. While they have neither central texts nor a focused faith community, effective TED speakers blend ideas and lived experience, research with testimony, spoken words with an embodied word, all for the sake of hope, change, ٢٠a call to action. They pay carefitl attention to their choice of words and images as well as to how they speak and move, all for foe sake of calling foe audience to act or hope anew. I

    Lent 2014


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    find the rhetorical approaehes in toe TED examples to he effective yet distinct from toe homiletical approaches I learned, nevertheless offering practical application tor preaching. Given toe breadth of TED material, however, this article is simply a teaser, ending in a list of a few talks for starters. Like a restaurant review, may it whet preachers’ appetites enough that they have to taste it for themselves. ?reachers’ most significant learning from TED will come with attention to how speakers craft, embody, and visually reinforce their words and stories. The most powerfirl TED speakers assume directness. The tone of toe talk is informal but pol- ؛shed, and the choice of content assumes toe audience has critical thinking skills and knowledge of social issues. Despite toe range and depth of their expertise, speakers choose words assuming a lay audience. They use jargon sparingly, and if so, only for toe sake of moving the audience in a desired direction. Amy Cuddy, a business school psychologist, describes toe effect of “power positions,” or toe body postores and movements that give a person confidence and authority in a stressfirl sitoation. She explains toe academic phrase “non-verbals” in a simple, unthreatening manner, noting that in her profession, that’s toe term for unspoken communication.2 Another well watched speaker,SimonSinek,uses “limbic system”to describe whythe message of influential leaders connects with a deeper, non-linguistic level in human brains. He also uses a simple diagram and translates it into everyday terms, describing toe limbic system as how people know what feels right, even when they can’t explain it in words.^ These two speakers, among many others, model how to use words that may at first seem foreign or off-putting to sermon listeners, particularly those new to ظ؛م (think repentance ٢٠salvation). Recognizing potential lingo, “ ٢٠churchy words” as one of my congregants calls them, preachers may observe as others translate without insulting a hearer’s intelligence or choosing to forgo a crucial term. Other toan word selection, the craft grows oto of how speakers give testimony. The most effective talks provide data, whether in the form of statistics, facts, research, ٢٠anecdotes, but for toe persons speaking, toe data is so compelling that they must tell how it has affected them, almost always for toe sake ofhope for toe fhture, growth of mind ٢٠spirit, ٢٠a call to action. In her first TED talk, referenced above and as of toe date of this writing viewed over sixteen million times, researcher/storyteller Brené Brown combines insight and humor to show how her study of what helps people live with a sense ofworthiness, love, and belonging revealed toe significance of personal vulnerability. This finding sends her into a personal breakdown as she realizes that research, all for toe sake of controlling and predicting, points to toe importance of giving up toe need to control. The point ofher talk moves to “this is what 1 learned.” Some preachers may hear Brown interjecting too much ofher own story, but in fact, as she tells her stoty, she enacts toe vulnerability that is her idea worth spreading. In fact, her message is not too far from a Christian teaching, that choosing to be appropriately vulnerable, real, and human leads to fullness oflife. Anotherofmy favorite TED talkers,Nigerian authorChimamandaNgozi Adichie, tolls ٢٠toe danger of a single story when it comes to a particular people ٢٠culture by telling significant parts ofher own story.* She demonstrates toe effects ofa dearth ٢٠ Nigerian stories,describing how she wrotechildhood stories based onBritish literature toll of people talking about toe weather and eating apples, although to her culture people rarely discussed toe weather and ate mangoes. Also with humor and insight, she relays boto toe misguided assumptions ofher American college roommate about


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    people from Africa as well as her own suppositions about natives of Mexico, based on the monolithic stories of poverty and need told in the media. With her signature bent and sensitivity, Adichie weaves her own multiple stories, such as describing a young man who worked in her childhood home, whom she knew only as poor until she visited him in his own home and saw the beauty ofthe baskets made by his hardworking family. Telling her own stories, she demonstrates not only the danger ofa single story, but the beauty that emerges in a multiplicity of stories, some still waiting to be told. Although she tells her own stories, she is never the heroine, but rather a vessel for the transformation ofthe audience as she describes her own transformation. TED speakers remain vessels in the ways they move on stage and project their personae. On stage, they are generally bathed by spotlights and clothed in neat but understated street clothes, while the door around them is dark and spare, a simple curtain ٢٠projection screen ٢٠a few well-placed props in the background. Although the format is clearly a lecture, speakers rarely use podiums ٢٠lecterns, and most speak without notes. Effective speakers move naturally and with intention. Some remain still, as Adichie does, but others use their body movement to express their message. Fashion model Cameron Russell arrives on camera in a slinky black dress and heels but wraps a skirt around and steps into comfortable shoes to make her point that how we look makes a difference in how we are perceived, and so much ٢٠how models look is pure artifice.؟ My favorite example ofthe power ofa speaker’s embodying his words comes from conductor Benjamin Zander, who persuades his audience that everyone can love and understand classical music.6 Flaying the piano, he demonstrates the evolution ofa person’s musicianship from hesitant choppiness to nuanced phrases, as he ends leaning on his right side. Be calls this “one buttock” playing. “The music pushed me over,” he says, as the audience has clearly seen and heard. Zander’s personal excitement about his music and message pours out into the pacing and intonation of his speech. His facial expressions and energetic movement at tire piano and among the audience communicate his good news. Classical music is simply exciting, even when he plays Chopin’s poignant “Frelude in E Minor.” The conductor’s entire persona stems from his own belief in his message, and the camera panning faces in the audience reveals that his belief becomes contagious. One wonders how preachers might be so infectious. Many speakers infect their audience with more than words. TED talks also model effective use ofimages. Visual presentations, called “slide decks” in the tech world, use simple photographs, charts, ٢٠mini videos and tend to be short on words and long on impact. More than a FowerFoint outline ofa lecture, a powerful slide deck uses a few clear pictures or graphics. The best slides show no more than one sentence ٢٠statistic. Social psychologist Jonathan Haidt’s lecture describing the different moral roots of liberals and conservatives exemplifies how a few faces or logos can make a pointy Whether ٢٠not his premises and conclusions are correct, his slides of Michelangelo’s David ox the blue pill ٢٠red pill example from The Matrix clarify and reinforce his words on the evolution of morel minds. In contrast, and deviating from foe norm in some terms, Ryan Lobo’s photographs enhance foe audience’s emotional connection to his subjects.8 His tells his story using images ofa repentant former warlord in Liberia, described as a prolific mass murderer , who now seeks forgiveness from his victims and their relatives. Lobo helps foe

    Advent 2014


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    audience both to bear the unbearable and to wonder at the possibility of forgiveness in images ofa man asking to be pardoned by the surrounding people whose lives he scarred ٢٠ruined. Although not intentionally religious, his photographs capture far better than words alone foe theological dilemma of asking for mercy. Watching each of these talks and noting foe speakers’ relative approaches to storytelling, embodying their messages, and using images, preachers gain a new resource for growing their own styles. Allowing that TED speakers prepare for a single talk rather than a weekly sermon ٢٠that they stand on a stage rather than in a chancel or pulpit, preachers may still experience and reflect critically on others who believe they share good news. Those who communicate foe Christian gospel may also explore foe magnified influence of the social medium in spreading a powerful spoken word, given the number of ways one lecture may be shared. While many individual preachers currently use podcasting, and a few preach weekly on foe audio version Day Due, imagine what might happen through a web site with links to TED ؟uality preaching videos. Those interested in TED as a preaching resource may set a few guidelines for themselves, including not watching more than two talks in a sitting, ending early if a talk is not interesting after three minutes, and maintaining healthy skepticism regarding any speaker’s claim or method of communication, ?reachers may then reflect on what was effective about foe talk and consider one approach they will incorporate in conveying foe Word they preach. This Advent, ٢٠any season in traditional church or beyond, people remain hungry for good news, for good words, for ideas worth spreading. We all crave something more than ideas for words like peace, hope, joy, and love to come to life, for foe Word to be made flesh once again. With apologies to the recent lectionary commentary series, we all want to “feast on the Word.” As you prepare to feed others with your words, what testimony might you share out of your own experience of light coming into darkness? What will you do to embody foe good news ٤٠Christ coming, a message so wonderful that it pours forth from your preaching persona? What images ٢٠ phrases will clarify that message for you and for your hearers? As you prepare, may you be fed by foe Spirit at work in all kinds of people with ideas worth sharing. May the Word leave you wanting more.

    Notes 1 Brown, Brené, “The ?ower of Vulnerability,” Filmed June 2010, TEDxHouston, 20:19, http://www. ted.eot^tal^rene.brow^on^ulnerhilit^. 2 Cuddy, Amy, “Your body language shapes who you are,” filmed June 2012, TEDGlobal 2 0 0 2 :ﻟﻤﺢ2ل . http://www.ted.com/talks/amy_cuddy__your_body_language_shapes_who_you_are. 3 Sinek, Simon, “How great leaders inspire action,” filmed September 2009, TEDxBuget Sound, 18:04, http://www.ted.com/talks/simon_sinek_how_great_leaders_inspire_action. 4 Adichie, Chimamanda Ngozi, “The danger of a single story,” filmed July 2009, TEDGlobal 2009, 18:49, http://www.ted.com/talks/chimamanda_adichie_the_danger_of_a_single_story. 5 Russell, Cameron, “Eooks aren’t e¥erything, Believe me, I’m a model,” filmed October 2012, TEDxMidAtlantic, 9:37, http://www.ted.com /talk/ra lieve me i m a model. 6 Zander, Benjamin, “The transformative power of classical music,” filmed February 2008,TED2008, 20:43,http://www.ted.com/talks/benjamin_zander_on_music_and_passion. 7 Haidt, Jonathan, “The moral roots of liberals and conservatives,” filmed March 2008, TED2008, 18:42,http://www.ted.com/talks/jonathan_haidt_on_the_moral_mind. 8 Eobo, Ryan, “Fhotographing the hidden story,” filmed November 2009, TEDlndia 2009, 11:20, http://www.ted.com/talks/ryan_lobo_through_the_lens_of_compassion.

  • Elijah, narcissism, and (especially) me

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    Page 32

    Elijah, Narcissism, and (Especially) Me

    Brent A. Strawn

    Candler School ٤٠Theology, Emory University

    ه1ه

    Testament Lesson: 1 Kgs 19:1-18 (l-4a, 8-18)

    New Testament Lesson: Matt 17:1-13

    “What are you doing here, Elijah?”

    On Narcissism Let me begin this sermon by saying that 1 try. I do, I mean, I really try. I try not to be narcissistic. It’s just so hard. But I try. I (that’s me, by the way)— مtry! Narcissism, you might recall, gets its name from the Greek myth ٤٠Narcissus. Narcissus was so handsome that he fell in love with his own reflection in a ١٠٠٢and never looked back…or to the left ٢٠right for that matter. He spent the rest ٤٠his li؛e just staring at himsel .؛Now 1 don’t know ؛٤he tried, like I do, not to be a narcissist. It seems that it would have been very di؛ficult ٤٠٢ him: he was, after all, the Narcissus ! The very first narcissist! I think it’s sa؛e to say thatabit o؛Narcissus’ malady afflicts all of us to one degree ٢٠another, in smaller ٢٠larger quantities, whether we think ourselves to be handsome and beautiful ٢٠not. In fact, we might admit that it’s oftentimes our lack ٤٠fantastic qualities that leads to our own particular instances ٤٠self-obsession. Regardless, if it’s true that we all have a bit ٤٠narcissism, then we probably find it hard to not be narcissistic, even when we try. If we ever do.

    Elijah and Narcissism In the text we just heard from 1 Kings 19, the great prophet Elijah is also trying hard not to be a narcissist—he’s just failing at it. Now don’t get me wrong: I don’t want to be too hard on Elijah. It’s very easy, in the pulpit, to take potshots at the people ٤٠God in Scripture, even and especially the saints. And let’s face it, Elijah is one of the heavies when it comes to Bible saints. He came on the scene in 1 Kings 17, and in the chapter previous to the one we just heard, he single-handedly confronted 850 prophets ٤٠the gods Baal andAsherah on Mount Carmel. Elijah remains active into 2 Kings, gets an honorable mention at the very end ٤٠the Old Testament in the book ofMalachi, and then makes a stunning comeback in a number ٤٠places in the New Testament, especially in the Transfiguration (Matt 17:1-8; Mark 9:2-10; Luke 9:28-36). So, no, I don’t want to poke fun at the great Elijah easily. He’s got a lot on his plate, after all. I mean, he just had a major head-to-head, ٢٠rather head-to-850 heads with tire false prophets. And now the queen who funded those prophets, the notorious Jezebel, wants his head! He’s terrified and he’s tired. Like I said, he’s got a lot on his plate. That granted, since I’ve already confessed that I’m a narcissist (but so are you), let me just go ahead and say that I think Elijah, despite all these caveats, is a bit ٤٠a narcissist as well, because, well let’s face it, I’m preaching, and if I want Elijah to be a narcissist, it’s a done deal! (My narcissism strikes again!)


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    But even ifElijah is narcissistic in this passage, it doesn’t mean those other things aren’t true. According to verse 3, he really is terrified; and in verse 4 things are bad enough that he longs for death from God’s hand rather than Jezebel’s. But then he gets some rest and some miraculous food and drink, and off he goes, refreshed by all that, for forty days and forty nights until he gets to Mount Horeb. That’s God’s mountain, in case you didn’t know (1 Kgs 19:8). There he enters what the Hebrew text calls “the cave.” Why the cave, we might wonder. There’ve got to be a lot of caves in Mount Horeb! It’s hard to say for sure, but maybe, just maybe, because this cave is, in fact, the cave, the selfsame cave where Moses hid when he saw God’s glory pass by. So far then, things seem to be lining up to make this an event of significant, dare one say, biblical proportions: 40 days and 40 nights (hardly coincidental); God’s mountain, Horeb; the cave. This biblical trend continues in what follows: Elijah is suddenly confronted by “the wordof theLGRD.” That’s a g o o d prophetic speeeh formula—it’s what prophets say before they utter God’s message. It’s foe kind of thing Elijah himself says (see 1 Kgs 21:23; cf. 2 Kgs 9:36), but hem foe word of the Lord comes to him, addressing him} But despite foe biblical proportions, the specific question that is asked seems rather mundane: “What are you doing here, Elijah?” (1 Kgs 19:9b; NRSV) $ ٠Elijah delivers his report— ﺀ’جreport, mind you: “I’ve been very passionate for the LGRD God of hosts because foe Israelites have abandoned your covenant. They have tom down your altars, and they have murdered your prophets with the sword. I’m foe only one left, and now they want to take my life too (1 Kgs 19:10; CEB*)!”2 Did you hear all that? “I’ve been very passionate; i ’m foe only one left; they want to take my life too.” That’s a lot of “I” language in there! Elijah sounds a bit narcissistic, doesn’t he? Further confirmation of that is found if we keep reading, because, right after he gives his report, he is told to witness a great revelation of God—once again, not unlike Moses. This is a famous passage, but what’s important for us right now is to note that after all foe special effects—the strong wind, foe earthquake, foe fire, and foe sound that was thin and quiet (CEB)—the same question comes to him: “Why are you here, Elijah (1 Kgs 19:13b; CEB)?” And Elijah’s response is foe same as before—ﻚﺻﺀﺀﻢﺛ(ا foe same—word-for-word. Well, he’^ t a lot o h ^ a t e , you might say. Ufe might say. have a lot on our plates, after all! It’s hard not to be concerned about all that, you know. Hard not to be worried about all that. Hard not to keep coming baek to all that—hard not to be obsessed with all that over and over again, no matter what else is going on. Exactly. It really is hard not to keep coming back to all that—hard for Elijah, too, despite all that has come in between and along foe way: you know, things like God’s provision of divine fire in foe showdown with foe false prophets (1 Kgs 18:38), ٢٠things like God’s provision of rain after foe terribly-long drought (1 Kgs 18:45), ٢٠things like God’s provision of food and drink, not once, but twice, on Elijah’s trek to Horeb (1 Kgs 19:5-8), ٢٠things like God’s stunning display of pyrotechnics from foe biggest of things to foe smallest of sounds. That’s a lot of things! And so, foe question comes a second time: “What are you doing here, Elijah?” “Well, I’ve been working really hard..·just me…all by my lonesome…and did /


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    menti©n that everybody else— مmean everybody else—is against me.. .oh, and you too—you too, God!” No, I don’t want to be too hard on Elijah, but it’s hard not to see some narcissism here. But once again, he’s got a lot on his plate. Jezebel, if nothing else! So shouldn’t we cut this great prophet a break? Maybe so, but God doesn’t.

    God and Elijah’s Narcissism God asks the question a second time and gets the same response, despite all that has come before and in-between, and so God moves on—quite literally. Elijah gets no comforting response—he already got that in foe showdown on Carmel. Elijah gets no sustaining power—he already got that in foe divine food and drink. Elijah gets no miraculous display of God’s presence—he already got that in foe theophany. What Elijah gets now, despite all that’s on his plate, despite his deep passion, his real fear, his deep tiredness—and yes, perhaps, also his touch of narcissism—from God, instead, is marching orders. There are three things specifically. First: “Go back through foe desert to Damascus and anoint Hazael as king of Aram”—it’s a long way from Horeb, way down south, to Damascus, way up north, and it’s directly through territory controlled by Queen Jezebel. Second: “Also anoint Jehu, as king of Israel”—that’s even more dangerous than foe Damascus bit: anointing a new king of Israel, instead ofAhab, foe present one, Jezebel’s husband. That’s revolt, that’s sedition, that’s treason. That could come to blows. AnditdoescometoblowsF Third: “And anoint Elisha…to succeed you as prophet.” In brief, what God says to Elijah is: “You’ve got work to do, son. What are you doing here? Do you think things are dangerous now? You’ve got to go to Damascus! You think Ahab and Jezebel are out to get you now? Wait until they’ve got a coup on their hands because of you! You think you’re alone—maybe even all washed up? Tired and afraid enough to die? Alright foen, go anoint Elisha. He’ll be happy to take over for you.”4 That’s not therapy, per ,ﺀﺀand thankfully God doesn’t charge by the hour, but Elijah’s narcissism has just met up with a serious dose of reality. God’s reality, mind you, not his own. And God has work that needs to get done. Yes, Elijah has been passionate. Yes, Elijah has been faithful. Yes, Elijah is now under threat; he’s tired, afraid, at the proverbial end of his rope. But not really. There’s still yet more rope, and Elijah has more work to do, including coming to grips with the realization that he is eminently and imminently replaceable. And as if all that wasn’t enough, God gives Elijah just a wee bit more reality. “Oh, by foe way,” God says,،“I have preserved…seven thousand in Israel…whose knees haven’t bowed down to Baal and whose mouths haven’t kissed him (1 Kgs 19:18).’ Seven thousand, Elijah, not just one—not just your one. Actually, make that 7000 and 1, if you count Elisha. ؟Did I mention he’s your replacement?” “Why yes. Yes, God, I believe you did.” The very next story finds faithful, reoriented Elijah calling Elisha to foe job.

    Elijah, Narcissism, and Es Well, there’s a lot we could say about fois passage, but time is short. $ ,٠in classic narcissistic style, let me offer a few thoughts about how this passage concerning Elijah’s narcissism and God’s work in foe world strikes me.


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    Among other things, the story suggests to me that it isn’t all just about me— aias!—even when I am truly tired and rightfully afraid. It just isn’t about just me. It’s about God’s work and other people—God’s work in other people. In faet, it’s so much about those other people that the part that is about me may boil down ultimately to being only about them—preparing them to do the jobs God has in mind for them, whether I like those jobs ٢٠not, whether I like those people or not. I’d like to think that Elijah liked Elisha just fine, and maybe Jehu okay, ؟but I wonder what he thought about Hazael,^ not to mention what he thought about the bloody methods those kings used to accomplish their tasks. Whatever the case, it just wasn’t about just Elijah; it just isn’t about just me. Narcissists take note! (Yes, that’s means youl) And, as if all that wasn’t hard enough to hear, there’s more: if I insist on sticking to my narcissism, even if it means well, mind you, even if it’s predicated on my faithfiilness, my faithfulness, mind you, and if I find out that, well, if you crunch the numbers, it turns out that there’re a lot of other folks just like me out there, working just as hard, if not harder, doing their things for God, being faithful, resisting the other gods, not kissing the Baals ٢٠bowing their knees to them. 7,000 ٢٠so, but who’s counting? Just God. And 7,000 is adecent number. A stereotypical,8 very respectable number of people who are ready, willing, and able to do God’s work whether I do it ٢٠not, whether I get up from the pool of my self-obsession ٢٠don’t, ?eople who are not only ready, willing, and able, but who are already doing God’s work—quite apart from me, ؟uite independently of me. I suspect and I believe and I hope that I’m looking at some of those people right this very minute. To realize that there are many others hard at work for God, not just me—and that I’m not that crucial after all—well, that’s a sobering thought, but ultimately quite a wonderful one, far more interesting and important than the pool of my self-reflection , the locus of my own narcissism. And let’s face it, my self-obsession can’t hold a candle in terms of significance to Elijah’s. He had real things to worry about. $ ,٠despite my proclivities to be a wee bit narcissistic, I readily acknowledge that I’m no Elijah—that’s for sure. But let’s just put ourselves in the story anyway for a moment—you and me—and play the parts. Even at 43 years of age, I know that my time, like Elijah’s, is winding down. But you? Consider yourselves anointed.

    Notes 1 See also 1 Kgs 17:2,8; 21:17,28. 2 An asterisk (*) means ؛hat I have altered the translation sl§؛htly. 3 See 2 Kings ?-١٠. 4 It ؛s, in fact, precisely Elisha who appoints Hazael (2 Kgs 8:13) and Jehu (2 Kgs9:1-3). و Perhaps still m،)re, see 1 Kgs 17:24 and 18:3-4, unless these are subsumed in the 7000. 6 See 2 Kings 9-10 and note John Gray, I & II Kings: A Commentary (2nd rev. ed.; ه1ه Testament library; Philadelphia: Westminster, 1970), 412 on the meaning of Jehu’s name. 7 Cf. 2 Kgs 8:7-1. :؟Hazael ultimately does Israel harm. 8 Signifying in Hebrew “a lot!”

  • ‘Outrageous acts and everyday rebellions’

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    ،‘Outrageous Acts and Everyday Rebellions”*

    Genesis 2:8-17

    Erin M. Keys First Presbyterian Church © ٢Greenwich, Greenwieh, Connecticut

    In the beginning Godיsspiritmovedover the chaos and created order. The heavens and the earth appeared. God made the sky every shade of indigo you could imagine and set within it a golden sun for the day and the softer moon and stars at night. Out of the depths of the sea, land came forth. Mountains pushed their jagged edges toward the sky; rivers carved canyons, and forests spread out a thick blanket of green. Grizzly bears appeared and began to roam these forests; wild horses covered the expansive plains. Birds of every kind filled that indigo sky, and in the darkest comer of the ocean, the humpback whale let out its first mournful call. The dust of creation settled into the deserts, and it was there in the heat and dirt that the Creator scooped up a handful of sand. With toe gentleness ofa new mother, toe Creator began to mold and shape—such precision to detail—two eyes, ten fingers and toes, a spinal cord to connect it all together, and a heart to keep it warm. Holding up toe creation, God took a deep breath and then exhaled into toe creature. The creature lived. God made two creatures in God’s own image, male and female, and called them human. God placed the humans in toe most beautiful corner of creation, Eden, paradise. Everywhere toe humans looked there was beauty at the earth’s abundance. In toe middle of Eden stood two trees. Gne was toe tree of life, and toe other was toe tree of toe knowledge of good and evil. God said to toe humans, “Be fruitful and multiply, fill toe earth and subdue it, eat freely of whatever you want, everything is yours, but from toe tree of toe knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in toe day you eat of it you shall die.” ¥ ٧٠may have everything 1 have created, God said, but not that. Everything, but. Walking among toe trees, toe humans marveled at toe low-hanging fruit, itsjuicy flesh so easily within reach; at their feet vegetation sprang forth; toe animals gathered around waiting to be named. God had given toe humans everything they ever could have needed; God had given them a purpose: to be fruitful and multiply. God had given them permission to subdue toe earth. God had even given them prohibition—a boundary in the midst of such freedom: “¥ou may have everything, but.”’ Everything, but. A boundary, a limit, a border designed to contain and control. In toe beginning God’s spirit moved over toe chaos and created order in toe form of boundaries separating the heavens and toe earth, toe land and toe sea, toe fish and toe birds, toe trees and toe plants, toe humans and God. Ah, now that boundary is a little more blurry sometimes. The Appalachian Mountains cannot confuse themselves with toe Atlantic Ocean. The camel cannot confuse itself w ith a peacock. But humans, humans can, at times, confuse themselves with God. We arc, after all, fashioned in God’s image. We werc, after all, given toe purpose to tend the earth—the power of creation was essentially left in our hands. We werc, therefore, given permission to use this power so that our lives may be fruitful. We are, as a result, a little less than God. The psalmist exclaims,

    When I look at your heavens, toe work of your fingers, Pentecost 2014


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    The moon and the stars that you have established; what are human beings that you are mindful of them, mortals that you eare for them? Yet you have made them a little less than God, and crowned them with glory and honor. You have given them dominion over the works of your hands; you have put all things under their feet.” (?salm 8:3-6)

    We are a little less than God, the ?salmist writes. Humans are a little less than God. “You are a little less than God,” the serpent whispered in the woman’s ear, “but wouldn’t you like to be God?” You can picture the scene in your mind; we have all seen it many times, the evocative portrayal of the serpent curled around the tree and the first two humans reaching towards the forbidden fruit. The temptation of Adam and Eve is a scene that has captured the imagination of artists over the centuries, with painters returning to it again and again for inspiration—the rich color of their oils attempting to capture for the eye what we cannot hear in the text. Theologians, too, return to this text over and over again in an attempt to understand the breaking point—the reason why Adam and Eve were unable to resist the soft hiss ofthe serpent’s suggestion. Because we are told Adam and Eve were naked, it was not a far leap to assume sexuality was the reason for this first transgression. Historically, and in some cases still to this day, the church and Christian theologians label sexuality as the slippery slope of temptation. Women have been unjustly burdened with the bulk of responsibility for sexual temptation,but both women and men alike have been harmed by this overly scxualized interpretation of this story. Temptation may come in toe form of sexuality, but it is not sexuality in and of itself. What then, is temptation? Is it death? “For toe day you eat ofthe fruit from toe tree of knowledge of good and evil, on that day you will die,” God says. But then, Adam and Eve ate of toe fruit and did not die, but wem on to create life, and to this day they are seen as toe Mother and Father of toe human race. Temptation is not death. What then, is temptation? Is it evil? Is temptation the continual choice between toe light and the dark sides of life? So often when we think ٠۴ temptation, we think of two choices laid out before us, one good and toe other evil. After all, it was toe fruit of toe tree of the knowledge of good and evil that Adam and Eve were instructed not to eat—you can have everything but that, God said. Yet rarely is temptation about only two choices: good ٢٠evil. Rarely is temptation an easy decision, a black or white answer, a clear direction when we come to a fork in toe road. No, that is not how temptation works. Temptation is not loud, but quiet; Not demanding, but suggestive; not obvious, but so subtle you don’t realize it is upon you until you are caught in its thorns. Temptation is not one choice, but too many. Adam and Eve were not tempted to be good ٢٠evil. They were tempted to be like God. They were tempted to cross toe boundary that separated them from God. Humans are a little less than God, toe Fsalmist writes, and every day humans are tempted to confuse themselves with God. With toe power of creation at our fingertips, toe possibilities for our lives are endless. Temptation is not one choice, but too many. Walter Brueggemann, renowned ©Id Testament scholar, says that toe story of


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    Adam and Eve and the serpent is not a reflection on sex, on evil, ٢٠on death, but is, instead, a refleetion on the troubled, anxiety-ridden life? The troubled, anxiety-ridden life. Anxiety. 1 thou^t anxiety was a symptom of the modem era, the result of jam-packed sehedules, and our ever-increasing attachment to email and eell phones. 1 thought anxiety was something that happened to us when life beeame overwhelming and we could not bear the burden ofit all. 1 thought anxiety was the result of pressures outside us, not something that resides within is, tempting us, forever tempting us to do more. As humans we were made a little less than God. The power of creation was given to us to subdue and use in order that we may live lives of abundance. “You may have everything,” God said, “but.. . Then temptatiou came along and invited us to stretch out our fingers just past the boundary God created, and anxiety is what caused us to break it. “You may have everything,” God said, “but….” Tt wasn’t evil. It wasn’t death. It wasn’t even the allure of sexual desire that caused the break of the boundary God created. It was anxiety, the desire to control more than we were created to control, the desire to know more than we were created to know. Anxiety: desire to do more than we were created to do. “You may have everything,” God said; “hilt-..-” We were made a little less than God, but we are not God. Anxiety would have us believe otherwise. Danish philosopher and theologian spren Kierkegaard said, “Anxiety is the dizziness of freedom” (׳Concept of Anxiety). And that is often what anxiety feels like, does it not? Dizzy with the demands in our lives. Dizzy with the stress we feel. Dizzy with the options, both good and bad, that continually plague our minds. We have so much freedom to choose, but at the same time, that very freedom is what keeps our minds spinning with the continual barrage of “what if ’ scenarios. What school should my child go to? What will happen if she gets into this one and not that one? What should 1 do about my job? Should 1 stay or should 1 go? How will 1 pay mortgages, rent, tuition? Where is my career headed? Will I be successful? Do 1 want to be successful? What will that mean for my family if I am away from them more? What did I do with my life? Was it meaningful? Did 1 live up to my potential? Did 1 make the right choices? No matter what our age or life circumstance, anxiety finds us; it is a disorder of the mind for many and part of the human condition for all. A more accurate portrayal of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden might be one that has them both with their hands over their heads, trying to block out the thoughts that raced through their minds—thoughts represented by that snake softly hissing, ”The possibilities are endless.” The mistake Adam and Eve made was thinking that more would make the anxiety go away. More knowledge. More power. More time to live up to their potential. More events in their schedules, more money in the bank, more lines on their resumes, more acclaim from their peers. But more was not the answer then anymore than it is now. The relief from our anxiety is not to be found in more, but in less. “We are a little less than God,” the ?salmist writes, which is why God gave us a boundary to begin with. You may have everything, but. Made a little less than God, we were given enormous freedom. Made a little less than God, we are made dizzy by that freedom and therefore need boundaries around it. Boundaries, limits on what we can realistically do in 24 hours and boundaries

    ?entecost2014


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    around what we ean realistically hope for our lives. “You could have it all,” the snake whispered, “the possibilities are endless.” That was the first lie ever told, and we have believed it ever since. We have everything at our fingertips, but that does not nrean we need to grab it. We have everything within our reach, but that does not mean we houldnolongrdiscerah^istruly in our best interest.We haveeverything bestowed upon us by the goodness of God, but we would do well to remember, to daily remind ourselves, that we are not God. We cannot control it all. We cannot know it all. We cannot be it all. We need boundaries around ourselves and others, boundaries around our time and energy, boundaries around ourselves so that we are rightly reminded of our place in this world as beloved creatures made a little less than God. In the beginning, God’s spirit moved over the chaos and created order in the form of boundaries separating the heavens and the earth, the land and the sea, the fish and the birds, the trees and the plants, the humans and God….

    * Tide borrowed from Gloria Steinem’s book of the same name, Holt Paperbacks. 2nd ed., 1995.

    Notes 1 Walter Brueggemann, “Genesis,” Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching ﻣﺤﺲPreaching (John Knox ?ress, 2010). 52. 2Ibid.,42.

  • Protagonist corner [37 no 4 2014]

    This text was converted from the original print edition for full-text searchability. Formatting may differ from the original. Consult the PDF for citation and presentation details.

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    Protagonist Corner

    Frederick w. Schmidt Garrett-Evangelical Theological Seminary. Evanston, Illinois

    Long before we became good friends, I was introduced to Marcus Borg’s work as a student at Oxford University. 1 was beginning my own work on a degree in New Testament studies (which 1 completed in 1986), and 1 was working with George Bradford Caird. Caird held the Dean Ireland’s Chair at The Queen’s College, and he had established himself as one of the leading voices in New Testament studies in the tradition of C.H. Dodd.’ As I began working on the relationship between eschatology and ethics, Caird told me that I should consult the work of a former student, Marcus j. Borg. Borg, he noted, had written a brilliant thesis, and he thought that I would benefit from spending some time with it. This was long before Mellen Press published Marc’s dissertation* and years before he dominated conversations about the historical Jesus.* That was 1980. Borg became the Hundcre Distinguished Professor of Religion and Culture at Oregon State University in 1979. Ue published his dissertation in 1984, and Caird died in April of the same year, unaware ()’؛the impact that his distinguished student would one day have on the landscape of historical Jesus studies and beyond. Today,Marcus is oneofthe most influential New Testamentscholarsofhis generation , and with good reason. Ue possesses the critical tools to analyze the challenges associated with reading the biblical text. Ue has developed a compelling narrative describing the ministry of Jesus. And he communicates the results of his scholarship in a fashion that engages a circle of readers far beyond the biblical studies guild. Those gifts alone could account for his influence. But his ability to address our culture’s discomfort with the biblical message and foe Christian faith has been foe key to his success. Ue is masterful in naming that discomfort. Ue is adept at prescribing an alternative, and he is generous to his detractors in public discourse. It is not surprising, then, that those who are drawn to Marc’s work credit him with having developed an approach to foe “progressive” Christian message that gives them confidence in its continued viability.* Nor is it surprising that preachers, pastors, and priests rely on his work to frame their own case for foe Gospel’s relevance.5 Indeed, many of Borg’s most widely read works consciously invite that conversation, particularly Meeting Jesus Againfor the First Time,6 The God We Never Knew,1 Reading the Bible Againfor the First Time? The Heart of Christianity,9 Living the Heart /٠ Christianity,10 and foe blog that he writes in retirement at Patheos.com.11 As such, Marc’s work is that of an “accidental” apologist. I say “accidental” because to my knowledge he has never used foe label to describe his work, and I suspect that he would resist its use. But his gifts are, nonetheless, those of an apologist . His work has an apologetic cast, and his readers see and use his work in that fashion. For preachers in particular, it is also worth thinking about Marc’s conclusions through the lens of apologetics, ft allows us to make foundational observations that get at foe logic and focus of his scholarship as weft as the likely impact of his work on foe preacher’s craft.


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    The Rhetoric ofBorg’s Apologetic Looked at in that light, the first thing one notiees in Marc’s work is the shift in the logicofhis argumentas compared with earlier generationsof apologists.Historically, an apologist typically sees his or her task as that of explaining the Gospel in ways that indicate the church’s faith in terms that are omprehensible to the contemporary culture. For that reason, even though apologetic methods can vary greatly, historically apologists have begun by presuming the truth ofthe Christian message and some sort of deficiency in assumptions made by those who would doubt its truth.12 By contrast, Marc assumes that some sort of deficiency in the Christian faith exists that is underlined by the changes in modern intellectual paradigms. He offers an alternative means of construing the Christian faith, and then he offers that construal as a means of continuing to live with integrity as a Christian in the modern world.1 ؟ Every apologist defends a slightly different version of Christianity, of course, and speaks to different audiences.14 But in Marc’s case, the apologetic begins not with the legitimacy ofthe Christian faith as he sees it, but with what is cast as the dominant and defective views of his fidam entalist past. In Meeting Jesus Againfor the First Time, that past is the Jesus of “pre-critical naiveté” that Marc’s childhood church taught him to embrace.15 In The God We Never Knew, it is the faith of his childhood: “doctrinal, moralistic, literalistic, exclusivistic, and oriented toward an afterlife.”16 In The HeartofChristianity, it is “an eariier paradigm” ofthe Christian faith,^ “grounded in divine authority” and dependent upon a view ofthe Bible as “a divine product,”1® that adheres to a view of the Christian faith in which “believing” and “the afterlife” are central, and this life is all about “requirements and rewards.’’^ There is nothing sacrosanct about the older pattern used by apologists, and one could argue that there is a certain genius in a rhetorical ploy that acknowledges the flaws in some forms of Christianity. Marc’s approach exhibits humility that tracks well in the contemporary world. He wins and galvanizes progressive Christians by sketching a picture of the faith from which they already feel alienated. And by citing what he found problematic in his own experience of the church, Marc connects easily with readers who had a similar evidence. But the way in which he deploys this rhetorical gambit also has weaknesses that the preacher who follows his lead should note.

    One: Marc relies heavily on stereotyping of a Christian perspective that, where it exists, is historically representative ofa small minority. I’ve known some ofthe Christians that Marc uses as a foil for his apologetic, but it is hardly fair to suggest that foe kind of thinking he outlines dominated the church until Frogressive Christianity came along. The Christian tradition is a global, wideranging , and complex phenomenon covering more than two millennia. Frotestant fundamentalism is both a relatively recent and relatively small part ofthat story, even if it looms large in some parts of the United States.20 As such, foe polemic Marc uses paints foe whole ofthe Christian tradition from a narrowly eccentric point of view that might be Marc’s experience and might be the experience of a number of Americans, but it hardly represents foe history of the Christian tradition, and it doesn’t accurately represent foe Christian faith. So, while the rhetorical ploy that Marc uses resonates with many of his readers, it also reinforces and projects a picture ofthe Christian tradition that distorts the tradition and


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    reduces it tc an eccentric interpretation that makes an apcicgy for the Christian faith that much harrier to offer.

    Two: The logic of Marc’s argument also overplays (he originality of Progressive Christianity. If American ” is a relatively new and small part of Christian history , ?regressive Christianity is an even smaller part ofthat history.^’ So, when Marc begins to classify Christian belief in terms of “earlier” (i.e., fundamentalist views) versus “newer” (i.e., ?regressive views), the complexity of Christianity is lost in the simple polarities around which much of his work revolves. The historical possibilities disappear from sight, and the subtlety of two millennia of Christian thought is reduced to two fairly simple alternatives. At best the resulting picture is narrowly reductionist .:(؛At worst it is a misleading caricature. In either case, the alternative on offer does the Christian tradition as much harm as good,leaving readers the thinnest ofinterpretations,lacking in historical depth and the sophistication that the history of the church offers. There has been some fine work done by ?regressive Christians, Marc’s work among them. But, contrary to the claims by the movement, Christianity has hardly found its first, intellectually honest expression in its ?regressive form. Far from being opposed to critical and scientific thought (as Marc and other ?regressives seem to imply), Christianity made the Enlightenment possible.^ So while the church’s record is far from pristine, it can hardly be argued that it has been uniformly resistant to the intellectual values that have shaped western history. Nor can it be argued that Christianity has, at long last, only recently embraced critical thought in its ?regressive and Protestant manifestation. From the preacher’s point of view, this is anything but a purely academic or historical issue. When trying to articulate the Christian faith ٢٠provide a reason for embracing it, that task is made harder by stereotyping the past ٢٠by narrowing the rich tradition from which one might draw. To be sure, the church’s history is marked by shortcomings, as is any great tradition, be it religious, political, social, economic, ٢٠philosophical. But the rhetorical gambit that Marc uses paints the whole of the tradition using its weakest examples while making the assumption that the tradition has little ٢٠nothing to offer apart from its own fairly recent contribution.

    Three: The weight ofthe apologetic ultimately advocatesfor modernity, notfor the Christianfaith. When one recognizes this shift to a hermeneutic of suspicion toward the Christian message, it becomes clear that the weight of Marc’s apologetic defends modernity, not the Cospel. If the “earlier” way of thinking about the Christian faith was flat, simplistic, reactionaty, and easily dismissed with a few pages of caricature, then the one intellectual commitment that escapes suspicion and occupies the critic’s seat is modernity itself, ٢٠at least, a loose assemblage of what it means to be thoughtful and modem. From there Marc assesses the old way of thinking about the Christian faith, identifies its obvious flaws, and then offers a re-constmal of Christianity that conforms with modernity’s values.^ This shift in gravity ought to give preachers who take their vocation seriously some pause for thought, ?astors, priests, and ministers are called to radical honesty,


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    and they should defend an understanding of the Christian faith that aeknowledges the truth, whatever it is and wherever it is found. But granted that a preaeher has also made a commitment to the Gospel, why would she then embrace a theological position that privileges modernity instead of the Gospel? ?reachers should also note that Marc’s apologetic fails to ask how the Christian traditionmigh^ritique modernity. Instead, it emphasizes how the Christian faith might accommodate itself to the modem mindset. In trying too hard to make “* acceptable to modernity, we are as far from the ancient approach to apologetics as we can possibly be. The hallmark of the church’s apologetic has been its ability to allow the Gospel to draw the world in which we live into question. Marc’s approach takes the validity of our culture’s worldview as a given. The Christian tradition’s ability to speak in a relevant fashion to the challenges that face every new generation is one of its great strengths. But the Christian faith also urges us to listen to the transcendent challenge of God. The key to a vital, contemporary Christian faith does not lie in simply taking into account what we have learned from scientific inquiry, for example. It also requires that we let God speak to us in ways that challenge the underlying assumptions of our “modem mindset.” The best of Christian critiques of any culture have always come when the church did its best to stand outside of and alongside of the culture in question.** There really isn’t room for that deeper critique in Marc’s gambit, and it is largely missing from what he writes *s

    The Underlying Assumptions of Borg’s Apologetic Rhetoric is not the only dimension of Marc’s work that is worth evaluating. The underlying assumptions of his work merit scrutiny as well. Three closely related assumptions are worth mentioning here, and George Caird’s influence is in clear evidence.

    One: the primacy ofthe political Like Caird, Marc helpfully observes that much of what Jesus taught and said had a political dimension, political, that is, because so much of what Jesus said had implications not just for the individual, but for the life of the people of God.* ؛That distinction helps explain why Jesus’ message has such obvious corporate and social significance.Italso illuminates the differences thatJesus had with his contemporaries.27 But the emphasis Marc places on the political can be misleading in interpreting the significance of Jesus’ teaching for the contemporary reader. To be sure, the corporate language in Jesus’ teaching takes the leading edge in the Gospels, but as with the prophets, the social does not exclude the individual ٢٠ transcendent. Nor do we live in the political environment in which either Jesus or the early church found themselves living. We do not live in a theocracy. Jesus did, or at the very least, he lived in a nation that was meant to be a theocracy. To make matters more complicated, the Romans had also robbed Israel of its autonomy in significant ways. The situation ofthe church was very different from ours as well. The early church was first a sect within a sect, then a sect in its own right, and finally an institution.28 But at no point on that journey did the church live in the same relationship to the body politic that we live in today. The church could not and did not vote or exercise


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    political influence; and it is elearfrom most of the New Testament that just as ancient Israel had thought of itself as one in the same with the peopie of God, the church also thought of itself in those terms. So, to talk about politics in contemporary America is not the same thing as the conversation between Jesus and his contemporaries, nor does the application ofjesus’ teaching to our political setting accomplish the goals that Jesus or his contemporaries envisioned. It is not at all clear that the church’s exercise of influence over national and global affairs comes at all close to accomplishing the task set for the church ٢٠ the followers of Jesus by any part of the New Testament. That fact alone should give preachers pause in giving themselves to a proclamation fixed on the politics of our day that lacks a transcendent and divine word to the church. Ministers, priests, and preachers should also take note of the way in which, having acknowledged the political dimension of the Gospel for much of ?regressive Christianity, the Gospel has become merely political مو

    Two: The metaphorical nature ofeschatological language There is perhaps no single k؛ud of theological language that has generated more confusion than eschatological language. George Caird distinguished himself as an advocate of a nuanced approach to its interpretation, observing that it was often used metaphorically; that is, eschatological language is language used to describe the consequences of decisions made about an event that is not the end?،؛ This observation was so important to Caird’s work that it was often difficult to know what role “the end” actually played in the biblical text. In a private conversation , I once asked George if all eschatological language was metaphorical, then what did the language of Daniel 12:1-2 describe? He responded in what seemed to be a bit of special pleading, “Sometimes the ultimate referent becomes so real, it leaps to the forefront.”31 In Marc’scase, there is less ambiguity. Reacting to dispensationalism and popular, flat-footed readings of eschatological language, Marc makes it clear that he believes that eschatological language is “more-than-literal” in nature.^ Touching the question of an “afterlife,” he is, by his own testimony, “agnostic.”33 He is fairly sure that the tomb was not empty, and the resurrection means that Jesus is still experienced in the world today as Tord, recruiting for the Kingdom?* I share Marc’s discomfort with the bald and “unbiblical” appropriation ofeschatological language that dominates the work of John Nelson Darby, Hal Lindsey, Tim TaHaye, and others? ؛And there is certainly good reason for a measure of what Marc describes as “agnosticism” about the specifics of the Resurrection and “the afterlife.” In fact, I would argue that the term “afterlife” is itself an unfortunate turn of phrase, and it biases the conversation about the place of eschatology in the Christian (aith. The New Testament describes eternal life as both present and future possession (see John’s Gospel), ft emphasizes the continuity of both the old and new heaven and earth (see the Hook of Revelation), and both dimensions of the eschatological future depend upon the vindication of the claim that Jesus Christ is Tord. The notion of an “afterlife” as a realm of existence that is unrelated to this world except as reward ٢٠ punishment is threaded through with connotations that have little ٢٠nothing to do with Christian expectation. But, contrary to Marc’s blithe acceptance that the tomb was probably not empty,


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    the writers of the New Testament elearly believe that it was. They plainly anticipate a bodily resnrreetion. They look forward to a new heaven and new earth that shares some measure of eontinuity with eurrent versions of both. And in more than one plaee, the New Testament is emphatic about the importanee of it all.36 There is, then, more to esehatologieal expeetation in both Seripture and the Christian tradition than what Mare describes as the “’literal-faetual”’ preaehments of evangelists who long to scare the hell out ٢٠others.^ The resurrection is, in faet, all about God’s elaim to be God, and without it, we are without hope.3؟

    The primacy offaith as heartfelt devotion over the content offaith More recently, a third assumption that has surfaced in Marc’s work gives precedence to the primacy of faith as heartfelt devotion and commitment over belief in the content of the Christian faith.3 ؟This is a distinction he further bolsters by distinguishing “assent” (meaning, I give my heart to this) from a “propositional belief’ that he charactering as inevitable belief in a set of “literal-factual” truths.*؛ At first blush this emphasis avoids the dogmatism of fundamentalism, and theologically it underwrites interfaith tolerance, a point that Marc is repeatedly at pains to make.4′ However, while there is some support for Marc’s argument in the Old and New Testament, the evidence he adduces to make his point is misleading. It is true that much ٢٠the Hebrew and Greek vocabulary behind our use of the words faith and believe connotes the act ٢٠trust ٢٠a disposition of heartfelt commitment. But both Testaments talk about that act of trust against a religious background that ‘ the importance of God’s identity. Judaism and Christianity are exclusivistic religions that define their God as distinct from the gods of other religions, and that God is repeatedly defined not just in what might be described as metaphorical, ethical, and historical categories, but in the dogmatic categories that Borg implies are secondary, if not unnecessary رأ Additionally, what Marc suggests is psychologically and spiritually impossible if one is going to talk at all about a relationship with God. No one in their right mind would assent to an intimate relationship with someone who said, “I love you, but I don’t know who you are and it doesn’t matter.” This may require a more creative approach to religious tolerance and diversity. The essence of both spiritual and intellectual maturity is the ability to embrace specific convictions in the face of unanswered questions and differences of opinion. To acknowledge the particularity of our faith is also fundamentally more honest about the character of Ghristianity and about the religious convictions of others.

    Borg, the Progressive Apologetic, and Today’s Pulpit That a preacher’s careful assessment ofMarc’s work might raise questions about an uncritical embrace of ?regressive Christianity should be no surprise.*3 The problems with that apologetic help to explain why ?regressive Christianity has struggled to capture the hearts and minds of those who are spiritual but not religious and why it largely remains a movement dominated by the Boomer Generation.44 An approach to the Christian faith that lionizes modernity’s conceits and reduces the Christian faith to a series of metaphors describing a largely political undertaking is finally without a good reason for religion, never mind God. All Christians should suffer afrisson of warning whenever their faith commitments make them more comfortable with


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    themselves and the world around them. ?erhaps that is why ?rogressive Christianity contrasts with earlier reform movements in the church in a fashion that is analogous to foe contrast between Marc’s apologetic and his predecessors. If Marc’s approach stands foe Christian apologetic on its head, accommodating foe Christian faith to modernity, it ought not be surprising that Progressive Christianity does not seek to renew a martyr’s commitment to foe Christian faith (as did early monasticism ٢٠foe leaders of foe Reformation), but seeks instead to make its adherents comfortable with modernityرﺀ Por today’s preacher, that is good reason for a critical reappraisal of the Progrèssive agenda. Built as it is on foe rhetoric of false polarities and misleading assumptions about the nature of foe Christian faith, there is good reason to be circumspect. Appropriated without thinking foe modem preacher is more likely to find herself defending a loose constellation of modem conceits than anything robust enough to be described as foe Word of Cod. Whatever one might do with foe modern pulpit, one hopes that foe preacher who stands there would offer more.

    A Concuding Note I have no doubt that my dear friend is not attempting to subvert foe preacher ٢٠ betray foe church. Far from it, I know him to be a conscientious and caring scholar and Christian who also feels that he has followed the inevitable logic of the evidence available to him. So, why do I question so much that is at foe heart ofhis work? Marc once observed during an on-line debate with blogger and scholar Tony Jones that perhaps foe problem that the two of them faced in their debate is that they are both enmeshed in materialist assumptions about foe world around them.* ؛That, I believe, is not only true, but it is, in foe final analysis, the problem with Marc’s apologetic for modernity. As long as we believe even subconsciously that foe “most real” thing about reality ٢٠the truth that must be acknowledged is that which can be felt, smelled, touched, seen, or measured, and as long as we refuse to see foe material dimension of our lives as foe creation of foe Triune God, we will never win through to a distinctively Christian understanding of the world around us. We will always resort to cartoonlike visions of Cod (á la fundamentalism) or take refuge in Marc’s notion that foe “newer” trufo is “more-than-literal,” a phrase that takes its cues ffom materialism itself and grafts on foe spiritual. And, as long as we erase most of the Christian past by creating a stark choice between modem fundamentalism and Progressivism and lumping all pre-twentieth century Christianity in with fundamentalism, we will lack foe theological resources to find a distinctively Christian perspective on our world and our lives The choice between foe strawman of wooden fundamentalism and foe shining savior of Progressive Christianity is a false one, and the far richer alternatives are excluded ftom foe debate. While, for example, it has not always been at foe vanguard of modem learning, foe Eastern Orthodox tradition has also not suffered through foe same tension with modern learning, in part because it does not embrace foe same materialist assumptions. Without resorting to panentheism ٢٠process theology, foe Orthodox believe that the Triune God brought foe world into being and sustains it. As such, there is no absolute divide between foe material world and foe spiritual. Both are, instead, foe domain in which Cod lives and moves and has being.*’ That, it seems


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    to me, is a far better starting point for both a Christian world¥؛ew and apologetic.

    Notes لSee: Henry Chadwiek, “George Bradford Caird 1917-1984,” The Gory of Christ in the New Testament , Studies in Christology, eds., L.D. Hurst and NT. Wright (Eugene: Wipf & Stock ?ublishers, 1987),xvii־xxvii. 2 Marcus Borg, Conflict, Holiness & Politics in the Teachings ofJesus (New York: The Edwin Mellen Press, 1984). 3 Marc has written or co-authored nineteen books. He has edited or co-edited three others and his work has been translated into eleven languages. Meeting Jesus Againfor the First Time (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco , 1994) is foe best-selling book written about Jesus by a contemporary New Testament scholar. See: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/marcusborg/about/. 4 As one reader of Marc’s column observes, “The way you explain things, Marcus, makes it so much easier for me to be an honest follower of Christ.” Marc’s audience often expresses sentiments of this kind. See, for example, http://www.patheos.com/blogs/marcusborg/2013/ll/what-is-the-gospel/. 5 In a poll surveying foe most influential voices among foe clergy in The United Church of Canada, Marcus Borg was number one. See: http://www.ucobserver.org/faith/2011/07/theologians/ 6 See above, endnote 3. 7 Marcus j. Borg, The God We Never Knew: Beyond Dogmatic Religion to a More Authentic Contemporary Faith (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1997). 8 Marcus j. Borg, Reading the Bible Againfor the First Time: Taking the Bible Seriously but not Literally (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 2002). 9 Marcus j. Borg, The Heart of Christianity: Rediscovering a Life ofFaith (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco , 2003). 10 Marcus j. Borg and Um Scorer, Living the Heart ofChristianity: A Guide to Putting Your Faith into Action (San Francisco: Hamer One, 2006). 11 http://www.patheos.com/blogs/marcusborg/ 12 Given the purpose of this article, I do not wade into foe debate about how apologetic works should be classified, although 1 am largely in agreement with those who believe that they should be classified more according to their purpose than their genre. On that subject, see: Anders-Christian Jacobsen, “Apologetics and Apologies—Some Definitions,” in Continuity and Discontinuity in Early Christian Apologetics, eds., Jörg Ulricfo Ander^Christian Jacobsen, Maijastina Kahlos, Early Christianity in the Context ofAntiquity 5 (Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 2009), 5-22. 1^ See below. 14 That has been true from foe beginning. See: F.F. Bruce, “Paul’s Apologetic and foe Purpose of Acts,” Bulletin ofthe John Rylands University Library, 89:2 (1987): 389-90. 15 Meeting Jesus Again, 3ff. 16 The God We Never Knew, Iff. 17 Heart ofChristianity, xif. IS Ibid.,7. 9 Ibid., 10. 20 David Bentley Hart, The Experience ofGod: Being, Consciousness, Bliss (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2013), 23ff. 21 There is no useful history of what is now described as Progressive Christianity, ft is an amalgamation of Bultmann’s emphasis on demythologizing Scripture, Process Theology, and classical American liberalism. As some describe it, it is post-liberal and post-modern in its inspiration. See: Roger Wolsey, Kissing Fish, Christianity for People Who Don’t Like Christianity (Bloomington: Xlibris, 2011). As named, its current architects are largely American Baby Boomers whose efforts to define their movement is scarcely fifty years old: (http://www_.patheos.com//Resources/Additional-Resources/Progressive־Christianity־a־TheologicalMovement -Bruce־Epperlv-06-13-2011.htmB Even foe label “Progressive” continues to be a matter of debate: (http://www.mfoeos.com/blQgs/tonvjones/2011/06/17/is-progressive-the-right-term/). 22 See: Marcello Pera, Why We ShouldCall Ourselves Christians: The ReligiousRoots ofFree Societies, trans., L.B. Lappin (New York: Encounter Books, 2008). 23 See above.


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    24 ^ ٠coin a phrase: “Do not he conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God” (Ro 12:2). 25 It is also worth remembering that, while the modem western mindset has much to commend it, the rest of the world does not necessarily share our point of view, nor will the “modem” western mindset as we know it continue to be “modern” It will inevitably be replaced by a ^rspective that considers us quaint and naïve in our way and our version of modernity is just as much a social constmction as those points of view that we consider an artifact of the past. 26 See: Borg, Conflict, Holiness & Politics, 2ff. The same argument is made in a newer edition: Marcus j. Borg, Conflict, Holiness andPolitics in the Teaching 0/Jesus (Harrisburg: Trinity Press International, 1998), 22ff., the major difference being that Marcus now sifts that analysis through the lens of crosscultural studies in politics and economics (see pp. lOff). 27 Borg, Conflict Holiness & Politics, 51ff and in the new edition, 66ff. 28 I am unable to locate the original reference, but I am fairly sure that I owe this characterization of the church’s history to Norman Perrin. 29 Not always reliable, but an excellent indication of where a movement is headed that is as new as Progressive Christianity, is this description in Wikipedia: tot^//em wi^dia.org/wi^/Progressive .Christianity 30 G.B. Caird, The Language and Imagery ofthe Bible (Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1980), 243ff. 311 confess that at the time I didn’t have the courage to tell him that I thought it was, so I have no idea how he would have responded. 32 Marcus j. Borg, Speaking Christian: Why Christian Words Have Lost Their Meaning and Power -A n d How They Can Be Restored (San Francisco: Harper One, 2011): 189ff. The phrase “more-thanliteral ” invites the reader to equate Marc’s position with “only metaphorical.” Marc would probably object to that equation. But the phrase he uses invites toe interpretation “toe literal doesn’t matter very much.” Either way, toe critic is placed at a disadvantage. 3 3 /م. ها*ﺢﻣ I97ff. 34 See, forexample,Marc’sresponsetoTony Jones: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/marcusborg/2013/10/ response-to-tony-jones־about-the-resurrection/ 35 Ibid., 189-191. And I’ve taken issue with them; see: Conversations with Scripture: Revelation (Harrisburg: Morehouse Publishing, 2005), 1-15 and “Leaving Behind Left Behind.” Congregations (Spring,2007): 6-11. 36 There is not space to make this argument here, but see for example: Rowan Williams, Resurrection: Interpreting the Easter Cospel (London: Darton, Longman and Todd, Ltd., 2002), 9 Iff. ٦٦ Borg, Speaking Christian, especially 5-33. 38 Cf. 1 Co 15:12ff. and He 2:14-18. 39 See, for example, his reflection on toe question, “What is a Christian?” in his blog at Patheos: http:// www.patheos.com/blogs/marcusborg/2013/ll/what-is-a-christian/ 40 Borg, Heart of Christianity, 25ff. 41 Ibid. 42 The distinction that Marc makes here is not unlike toe effort to determine whether Paul believed that Christians were saved by baptism or by faith. The distinction is one that would not have occurred to Paul. He couldn’t have imagined being baptized without believing, nor could he imagine believing without being baptized. Hence, he uses the two interchangeably to describe a single experience. 1 think toe issue here is much the same. The notion that one could give his or her heart to toe teachings of Christ and not believe certain things about Christ, or believe certain things about Christ and not give her or his heart to Christ would not have occurred to an ancient follower. 43 Most of Marc’s apologetic, both in style and in content, has become central to toe logic of Progrèssive Christian belief, and his work has been closely linked to its development. 44 To my knowledge there isn’t any solid demographic information on the age ofthe average Progressive Christian. That isn’t surprising. I am told by a recently retired demographer for toe United Methodist Church that there are not solid statistics for the demographics of most churches. But most (not all) of the movement’s architects certainly seem to be ffom the Boomer Generation (or older). 45 On the focus of early monasticism, see: George E. Demacopoulos, F/ve Models ofSpiritualDirection in the Early Church (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2007), 1. 46 The exchange was fairly lengthy. It started here, with a passing observation by Tony Jones:


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    http://www.patheos.com/blogs/tonyjones/2013/10/04/no-the־writers־of-the־bible-did-not-expect־it-to־ be-taken־literally-questions־that-haunt/ Which prompted this response from Marcus: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/marcusborg/2013/10/response-to־tony־jones-about־the-resurrection/ A rejoinder from Tony: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/tonyjones/2013/10/09/dear-marcus-borg-please-reconsider־the־resurrection / Yet another response from Marc: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/marcusborg/2013/10/continuing-the־resurrection־conversation/ And a brief up-date at the end of Tony’s earlier article: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/tonyjones/2013/10/09/dear-marc 47 Cf. Dan Chitoiu, “The Dialogue between Science and Drthodoxy: specificity and Possibilities,” Journalfor Interdisciplinary Research on Religion and Science, No. 6 (January, 2010): 48ff.

  • The word from the whales

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    The Wordfrom the Whales

    Job 12:7-10

    Daniel Coeperrider

    Weybridge Congregational Church, Weybridge, Vermont

    On day seven of the 2012 Eeumenieal Lenten Carbon Fast, Jim Antal, eonferenee minister for the United Church of Christ in Massaehusetts, issued a eall to worship leaders. His advice for preaehers in partieular was that within two to three years, every third or fourth sermon should address issues of ehmate ehange and eeology. Otherwise, as he surmised, in about ten to fifteen years, every sermon will have to foeusongrief^ Today we’ll be hearing from the Book of Job. Job’s story is familiar because it is a story about what it is to be human, the glory and the vulnerability of it, toe blessing and toe eurse, toe thin line between innoeenee and guilt, understanding and bewilderment , appreeiation for toe gift of life, and despair in toe faee of its incrutability. The eomedian Louis C.K. has a popular bit in which he points out the absurdity of how when we get off of an airplane, our first instinet seems to be to eomplain. Herc we arc, hurtling speetaeularly through toe atmosphere, suspended graeefully between heaven and earth, moving quieker than any other ereature ean move from one plaee to another, and yet still we’re eomplaining about not having enough leg room, about being ten minutes delayed, about having the internet erash momentarily, or even worse, being without it for a bit, and all toe while here we arc sitting safely, life vest under our seat. Oh and by the way, we’rc in toe sky! His puneh line: “Everything’s amazing and nobody’s happy.”^ The story of Job, however, begins just a step before that sentiment. For Job initially everything was amazing, and he was happy. “Blameless and upright” is what the text says, and so Cod blessed Job with “seven sons and torce daughters, with seven thousand sheep, torce thousand eamels, five hundred oxen, five hundred donkeys,” sueh that we’rc told how “this man was the greatest of all the people of toe east.” Well, soon enough Job would eount himself among toe “nobody’s happy” crowd, for it wasn’t long before all toe blessings that supported him started to disappear rapidly: the family, toe livestoek, toe land, his own body. Jt’s as if the environment that sustained him in a state of happiness disintegrated and eventually broke down. The bulk of the story then involves Job trying to make sense of the devastation that visited him. To this end, torce friends travel from afar to be with him. Eirst they sit together in silenee for seven days, sharing deeply in Job’s grief. Then Job deeides to break toe silence, cursing toe day of his birth and railing against toe indifference of toe universe. A series of theological dialogues ensues, first between Job and his friends and finally between Job and God as God speaks from out of the whirlwind. The friends view Job’s personal loss largely as a problem of moral reasoning, and like us when we’re faced with a problem, especially another person’s problem, they seek a quick solution. They attempt to explain away the enigma of Job’s situation. “It’s because you must have done something wrong,” they say. “Everything happens for a reason.” Eventually, under toe pressure of toe debate, Job and his friends fall into the ^1-too-familiar pattern of talking completely past one another, becoming further entrenched in their own myopic perspectives and ideologies.


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    The friends’ argnments are unhelpful ©اthe p©؛nt of testing Job’s faith in the goodness of life and in the Creator who makes all things, ©ur text for today eomes at a eritieal moment when Job finds his faith renewed, and interestingly, he finds it renewed by turning away from the terms of the human debate, away from toe human tendeney to argue about and eontrol and explain all things, and turning instead towards toe natural world, turning with reverence and humility towards toe ©ther-than-hu!nan and toe rare-than-human world of toe earth and the diversity (and wisdom) of its living things. And Job said, “But ask toe animals, and they wifi teaeh you; toe birds of the air, and they will tell you; speak to the earth, and it will teach you; and toe fish of the sea will declare to >©u. Wh© among all these does not know that toe hand of the L©RD has done all this? In c©d’s hand is the life of every living thing and the breath of every human being.” ?eople of faith thr©ugh©ut history have been quick to turn to toe Creator by turning first towards ereation, renewing faith in Cod thr©ugh renewing faith in toe goodness and beauty of life. Today, however, when s©meth؛ng like Job’s grief visits us and when like Job we turn to toe earth to be renewed, we ean find ourselves turning from one plaee of grief to an©ther. We turn to toe animals, and we hear about their rapid disappearanee during tois S i^ lr-^ lo een e e x ti^ tio n e v e m .W e s^ ^ to to e e ^ an d h e a ro fto e strain that W’e’re putting it under; we hear it sigh that so mu،:h beauty is departing fr©m its stage. We speak to toe sky, and it responds with a elimate toll of tumult and e©nfusi©n. When it comes to the grief that we should be feeling now about elimate change and toe state of the earth, we seem to be in s©mething like the position of Job and his friends, hedged in by toe threat ©fc’©llapse and smek in an endless quagmire of debate, our faith in ourselves and our future tested. A c©uple of summers ago, I spent a day in Madrid and visited toe ?rad©. The old cityseape, with its mixture of Renaissance, Ne©-C©thic, and Ne©classical design , eomplemented beautifully toe play of Mediterranean sun on white cl©uds and blue sky. I entered toe museum feeling rather optimistic, buoyed by toe energy of the people and inspired by toe awesome works of human nature fully on display in toe eity’s architecture. I had c©me especially to see toe paintings, and out of all toe masterpieees that are housed in toe ?rad©, there was one in particular that captivated me. Titled “Quarrel with Clubs,” it comes from toe bleak, haunting last series of paintings by Francisco c©y؛t, toe series kn©wn as his “Black ?aintings.” Seeing toe painting reminded me of a professor’s highlighting this image as a prophetic statement on where we stood in terms of the climate changeriebate.^ I looked deeply into the painting, trying to remember ٢٠imagine what he might have meant. The lesson is pretty straightforward. The painting depicts two men mid-swing about to pummel one another with clubs. We see that they’re both buried knee-deep in a type of sand pit, and we see that they seem to be sinking such that toe harder these two fight against one another, toe quicker they’ll sink int© toe pit. This is not a fight or flight s؛tuati©n. but a fight to toe death. In terms of color, toe foreground matches the tragic scene with its dark tones and cavernous shadows, but one of the most eerie and unsettling things is that the background appears far brighter and more optimistic. 11′ it weren’t for toe men in toe scene, this would appear to be a rather peaceful and attractive landscape, with a blue and white sky not unlike toe sky on that summer day in Madrid.


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    When I look at the painting now, what I see is that we’¥e been plaeed amid a landscape of s^ggering beauty, but like the men fighting with elubs, like Job and his friends, we have this tendeney, perhaps espeeially in the eeologieal debate, to turn away from the rest of ereation and to free off, human vs. human, in an endless argument , ereating for ourselves a quagmire whieh, when foregrounded, has the ability to mar the entire landscape. When I look at the painting now, what I see is an honest representation of someone who has lost faith in the goodness of life. I see the eomie’s puneh line that “everything’s amazing and nobody’s happy.” When I look at it now, I see Job in that moment right before he says, “But ask the animals and they’ll tell you, and the fish of the sea will deelare to you.” A fow years ago The New York Times Magazine published an intriguing essay titled “Watehing Whales Watehing Us.” As the title implies, this piece explores the “ever-evolving relationship between humans and whales.”* The author had heard that sométhing interesting was happening between humans and gray whales in the San Ignacio lagoons off Baja’s western eoast, and so he traveled there with a marine biologist to see first hand what was going on. The San Ignacio lagoons are important as the winter and spring harbor for these whales ؛it’s where they give birth to and nurse their young for a fow months before heading north again towards the Bering Sea. This yearly pattern meant that these lagoons used to be prime whale-hunting grounds, so produetive in fret that as reeently as 75 years ago, the gray whale was nearly hunted out of existenee. These whales never aceepted the hunt without a fight, sueh that the grays once earned themselves the Leviathan-like nickname “hardheaded devil fish.” In 1937 an international ban was placed on hunting the gray whale. But since these mammals can live as long as 100 years, there are still whales swimming those waters with harpoon scars marking their backs, bearing a history of violence on their bodies. It turns out that it’s these very same whales with the harpoon scars that are now doing something new and quite extraordinary. These whales have not only stopped attacking human vessels, but are in fact seeking out connection with us, turning the tables and pursuing with curiosity the whale-watching boats instead of being curiously pursued ؛even entertaining the human onlookers with spectacular breeching displays, sending their impossibly huge bodies careening from water into sky with such gravity-defying grace ؛even shepherding their young and vulnerable calves right up next to the wh^e-watchers ؛ even gently holding their massive, harpoon-scared heads inches from these boats and looking up at these people, beholding us with their immense eyes ؛even letting or inviting us to extend a hand and touch them. A type ofblessing from one creature of extraordinary intelligence to another. Apparently, the word from the whales is that for us humans, something like ecological forgiveness is possible. Apparently, the word from the whales is that if we change our tune, if we relent from our attack on the things of nature, the things of nature will respond in turn, and even those places left most scarred will forgive us. Apparently, the word from the whales is that creation waits with eager longing for the day when we’ll seek communication and relationship with it rather than control and manipulation. Apparently, the word from the whales confirms the wisdom of Job when he says, “Ask the animals and they will teach y o u -th e fish of the sea, and they will declare to you ؛ask the birds of the air, and they wifi tell you…that the hand of the LORD has done all this.”


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    A few days before Madrid and the Prado, I found myself in the Louvre in Paris, eaptivated by a different painting—the image o f“St. Francis Preaching to the Birds” by the Early Italian Renaissance artist 0اأ0ع ؛؛ .This painting, glowing vividly with its gold inlay, depicts perhaps the most celebrated event in the life of this celebrated saint of the church. Legend has it that after walking away from the life of wealth and power that awaited him as a merchant in Assisi and after turning towards a life of voluntary poverty and simplicity modeled on the life of Jesus, St. Francis became an itinerant preacher of the gospel, and famously, was want to wander from the road and preach to other creatures, as when he told his companions, “¥ ٧٠shall await me here on the road, and 1 will go preach to the birds, my sisters.” In this famous sermon, Francis called upon the birds to sing God’s praises at all times and in all places. Like Jesus did when he said to “consider the birds of the air,” St. Francis called upon his avian friends not to worry about the future, about reaping and sowing, but instead to trust in the abundance that God will provide. He reminded them that “clearly your Creator loves you,” and he called on them to beware of “the sin of ingratitude” and so to “be ever mindful to give praise to God.”5 What strikes me about Giotto’s painting is the way both St. Francis and the birds lean towards one another for this event. With this leaning, there seems to be a type of mutual communication happening between them, and indeed given how vocal birds are, it’s harder to imagine this bird-congregation remaining silent than it is to imagine them chirping and singing back to St Francis, a type of human-avian call and response. So here we have Goya’s “Quarrel with Clubs,” and we have Giotto’s “St. Francis ?reaching to the Birds.” Gn the one hand, we have a picture of what it’s like to lose faith in the goodness of life and what it’s like to mar the beauty of creation; but so too on the other, we have a picture of what it looks like to relate to the creatures of this earth in a beautiful, mutually enhancing way. As human beings it appears that we have a choice. We can either seek control, or we can seek communication with the other-than-human world. We can hunt the whales towards extinction, ٢٠we can watch them curiously as they watch us curiously . We can let the birds disappear into silence, ٢٠we can preach good news to them as they preach good news to us. Job says to “ask the animals and speak to the earth”; he says to “ask the fish and to speak to the birds.” From the whales, we hear a word about forgiveness. From St. Francis and the birds, we hear that gratitude is the beginning of wisdom and that praise is how we best respond to this reality of grace within which we stand. Forgiveness, gratitude, wisdom, praise—creation waits with eager longing.

    Notes 1 This 2012 Ecumenical Lenten Carbon fast was a project of NEREM (New England Regional Environmental Ministries), c.f., ^cucc.org/carbonfast. 2 C.f., the 2009 Conan O ’Brien Show interview with Louis CK, http://www.criticalcommons.org/Members /fsustavros/clips/louis-ck-technology/view 3 Michael s. Hogue, “Global Warming and Religious Stiekfighting,’’ from a public lecture presented at the University of Chicago, 25 January 2007. 4 Charles Siebert, “Watching Whales Watching Us,” The New York Times Magazine, 8 July 2009. 5 Ugolino di Monte Santa Maria, The Little Flowers ofSt. Francis ofA ssisi, trans. w. Heywood, (New York: Vintage spiritual Classics, 1998), 36-37.

    Lent 2014

  • Preaching the Psalms

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    Preaching the Psalms

    Walter Brueggemann

    Cincinnati, Ohio

    John Calvin famously begins his Psalms commentary with this opener: the book of Psalms is “an anatomy of all parts of the soul.“‘

    My alternative way of saying what 1 think is an equivalent to Calvin’s verdict is this: the Psalms are the voicing, in a highly stylized way, of the emotional extremities of onr lives in the presence of God and in the presence of the congregation. The act of preaching, 1 propose, is the reperformance of this voicing: * It is a voicing; it is for out-loud utterance in speech and song. It requires selfannouncement . *It concerns theemotionalextremitiesoi our lives, the heightsofelationexpressed in awe, wonder, praise, and thanks, and the depths of doubt, alienation, despair, need, and abandonment. The two great genres of hymn (with thanksgiving) and lament (protest and complaint) reach beyond the reasoned civility of Enlightenment rationality into our concealed recesses where our fear and hurts dwell, from which energy and courage may arise. These emotional extremities that are, in a reductionist technological society, an embarrassment are here known to be the real substance of life and rich grist for faith. * The voicing is in a highly stylized way. Thus Psalm study is largely constituted by analysis of genres, of recurring patterns of speech. That is what makes the Psalms so repetitious. They consist in the regular, trusted ways of speaking that the community has found reliable and apropos for identifiable venues and circumstances of life. Attentiveness to the Psalms consists in the capacity to host these patterned speeches knowingly andimaginatively,so that the community that uses them faithfully becomes, in the phrasing of George Lindbeck, “a cultural-linguistic alternative’’: “this is the way we talk in this circumstance.”* We know what to say and to whom to say it. This familiarity with the patterned way of speech helps to voice and to form raw emotion into a manageable, usable, transportable utterance to which repeated appeal can be made. Such stylized practice evokes familiarity־ and fhcreforc some comfort, in such usage, the same familiarity and comfort that we find in the stylized usage of liturgy, in the stylized give-and-take o”‘ ‘؛therapeuti،; conversations,” and in the familiarity ׳of television commercials.3 Mostly we do not have raw, undisciplined utterance in these Psalms; the patterns, however, assert the legitimacy and value of such utterance of extremity. * This stylized voicing is before God·4 The Psalms may indeed serve a psychological function of catharsis and are often taken as such. But at bottom the Psalms are a theological transaction, a dialogic engagement in covenant that knows th،؛t God is on the other end of such song and speech. Thus emotional extremities arc not only voiced’, they are submitted as an offering of self to God. The voicing of elation before God (praise, thanks, wonder) is done in a conviction that God receives what we offer, wants such praise, and is pleased and enhanced by it. The voicing of anguish before God (lament, protest, complaint) is done in an awareness that God hears and


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    honors such utterances and answers them as the case may he. Thus the ?salms are a patterned way of giving one’s life (and the life of the world) over to God. Such an offering of self and world is not unlike the offering of bread and wine in oblation. We are received by God and given back, blessed and broken, now infused with sacramental force. It is like that with our lives and with the life of the world. When our lives are honestly uttered over to God (in elation and in anguish), they are handed back to us with emancipated power and reconciled energy. God’s very act of receiving and answering has transformative effect as, in a lesser key, does every interpersonal exchange that is done in honesty. * This practiced, patterned speech is done in the congregation. It is obvious that the great doxologies are for congregational (temple?) use. It is entirely credible that the laments are not designed for the great congregation. They may have been for quite personal use or, as Erhard Gerstenberger proposes, for family ٢٠village “rituals of rehabilitation.”5 But even in such “private” usage, the matter is still congregational. Even alone, one prays as a member of the congregation from whom the patterned speech (codes) has been appropriated. Gne never does a Psalm alone, but always in the company of those who share this patterned speech and therefore this faith. The utterance and the singing of the Psalms is an act of participation in the ongoing work of the community that consists in the honest ceding of self and world, with all of our gifts and wounds, over to the mercy and majesty of God. In the full practice of the Psalter, nothing is withheld from God. Thus Calvin can say, “All parts of the soul,” all parts of the self, all parts of the world, are given over to the mystery of God. Preaching is simply the act of making possible this reiterated work of giving our lives to God and so becoming fully ourselves in and through the act of yielding. I propose, for the preaching task, that we consider in turn plot and character, the two primary ingredients of a narrative rendering of reality.

    II There is of course no tight, all-comprehensive plot in the book of Psalms, just as there is no tight, all-comprehensive plot for any of our lives. It is nonetheless useful to trace out in a rough way a coherent plot-line in the Book of Psalms that may roughly correspond to the plot-line of our lives. As we learn in Anatomy 101 (on which see Calvin above), there is a recurring commonality in toe plot-line ofhumau lito; so it is in toe Psalms. We each experience that plot-line in our lives in distinctive ways, but the commonalities are evident. Particular Psalms give voice to toe plot differently, but toe pattem persists and recurs. When we perform that plot-line in the book of Psalms (or any part of it) pastorally, liturgically, or in preaching, we are roughly performing, before God and toe great congregation, toe plot-line of our lives. I got toe idea for ؛his from Claus Wes؛ermanu, toe greatest of Psalm interpreters of toe last decades. In his analysis of Songs of Thanksgiving (Ps. 30,31,40,66,116,138),Westermann has observed that in toe stylized practice oflsrael, giving thanks eventuates in telling the story of the experience of the speaker, for which Psalm 30 is choice example.® The speaker ofthat psalm tells in sequence:

    how he was in a static condition of prosperity (vv. 6-7a) how he was plunged into dismay by God’s hiddenness (v. 7b) how he made supplication to God (v. 8)


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    how he asked gestions of God in an attempt to motivate God to aet on his behalf (v. 9) how he addressed God in petition ( .٧10) how God turned his life to well-being ( .٧11) and how he arrived at his present new eondition of praise and thanks (v. 12)

    Westermann sees that Israel’s eharaeteristie way of giving thanks is to iterate the story of what has gone on in life and how that relates to God, that is, the God hidden, the God who hears, the God who turns! This is a) toe pattern of toe ?salms and b) toe reeurring story of our lives lived in faith. Readers who are familiar with my own work may reeognize that my way of rendering that recurring nareative is under toe rubric of “orie^tion/disorientation/ new orientation.’’^ Of this taxonomy I have suggested that some of us can maintain a status of well-being over time, but soon or late, we find ourselves moving into and sometimes out of disorientation.® The practice of Israel in the Psalms is to tell that

    Sometimes we get only orientation, the Psalms we most love. Sometimes we get only disorientation, toe Psalms toe church tends to neglect in its denial. Sometimes we get only new orientation, when we are taken by surprise, as in toe ultimate sunrise of Easter.

    It is of immense importance in the lito of a congregation to see that toe Psalter is a script for this common reality. It wifi, moreover, be of great value in a congregation to recognize that in various ways at various paces, we are all (liberals and conserva-


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    tives) living through this. We are all living through it, aeeording to this seript, in the deep awareness that God is engaged with us in the plot-line, as in the eongregation where I worship.

    * Here is a well-off eouple for whom all is well, and then granddaughter abruptly and unmistakably is marked by a disease that is more than an inconvenience. * Here is a church leader, skilled in the mysteries of digital communication, who loses his home via unemployment. * Here is a woman in our church, coming out of great loss in her life, who tenaciously oversees our regular engagement with homeless families whom we host. * Here is an older guy who is bewildered by the strange emerging world and knows some sadness about it. * Here is another older guy living in happy statis, sending sermon notes to his grandchildren every week, having no doubt that the center will hold. * Here is yet another older guy too long alienated from his beloved older son and can only grieve and hope. * Here is a set of grandparents who have stood by while their tiny granddaughter undergone a series of surgeries for a brain tumor. ..and with great positive outcome! * Here is a young man who went off to college after a high school rendezvous with drugs and alcohol and is now soaring in an excited education as the world comes freshly alive for him. * Here is the mother whose sophomore in college had a psychotic break, who regrets having moved in with her mother-in-law, has lost her closest relative to untimely death, and wonders why God is “doing ״this to her. * Here is a widow who spent all she had to provide nursing care for her husband, who prepares for a second hip replacement and continues to love God and neighbor without resentment.

    The list goes on; there is more than I know in our congregation, because I go to foe “late” service that gathers mostly older people. The congregation is peopled by personal tales of stasis of well-being, by plunges into dismay, and by being newly surprised by joy. All of these narratives are brought to church each time we meet, wanting those tales to be honored and wanting them exposited in terms of gospel faith. Each of these persons is occupied with foe specifics of “my” circumstance. For each of them, it is an important question, “What shall I do with this failure, with this hurt, with this gift, with this ^ sib ility ? ” The extremity has become defining (how could it not!). But one cannot just sit on it, because we are meaning makers. We are bound to wonder and then to interpret. Gne must process foe reality and the extremity that comes with it, twist it and turn it to see what all is pertinent. The Fsalms provide a script for a gospel exposition that honors specificity along with the discovery that we, as a community, have been here with this wound or this gift or this stasis before. We are part of foe procession of story-tellers and stor^^rform ers. The cases I have cited are personal and familial. But of course foe Psalms are concerned with public issues as well, and members of my congregation are alert to


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    and engag€d with public issues. The ?salter celebrates good “citizenship” and calls it “righteousness” (see ?salm 112). The ?salter knows about greed and bribes and war and poverty. It also knows about generosity and justice, and bids God to that task. It knows that the practice of economic justice for the needy and poor generates social stability and prosperity, as in Psalm 72. It knows that at every turn in the drama of personal and public life, the ups and downs are venues in which God is discerned as present ٢٠absent, as faithful ٢٠fickle. The plot is about open-ended dialogic Intera،;- tion, of giving and receiving, of falling and rising, of dying and living. The capacity to process our life through this dynamic interactive plot permits us to be human in a blessed way. Without this plot repeatedly performed, we might end in a reductionist fanaticism ٢٠in a cold arrogant autonomy. This script tells us otherwise about ourselves . It is through this script that we may practice solidarity and express in common what we sense so acutely and directly about our lives:

    Before our Father’s throne we pour our ardent prayers; ©٧٢ fears, our hopes, our aims are one, our comforts and our cares. We share our mutual woes, our mutual burdens bear. And often for each other flows, a sympathizing tear.

    The pastor knows about this. I am always astonished at foe intimacies of life that aro shared with foe pastor. The preacher’s task is to situate these particularities in foe larger narrative that is foe truth of our lifo, a lifo ceded over to God who receives, hears, and sometimes answers.

    Ill Along with plot, the second ingredient for good dramatic art is character. Here 1 want to ask, “Who is foe character who speaks in foe ?salms?” Sometimes it is foe voice of foe community, and sometimes it is foe voice of a single speaker, an unidentified “I.” In fact, foe voices that spoke first in foe Psalms are anonymous, despite much interpretive speculation. Given that anonymity that is lost in traditions that wero not concerned with copyrights, we have a great deal of freedom to identity and characterize foe voices of the ?salter. One strategy ofinterpretation that achieved canonical status is through foe “superscriptions,” foe notes that stand before Psalms that purport to identify foe speaker. The most prominent of such superscriptions are those that assign Psalms to David (Pss. 3, 34,51, 52, 54, 57, 59, 60, 63). آلOf these foe best known and most used is Psalm 51, for which the superscription is, “A Psalm of David when foe prophet Nathan came to him after he had gone in to Bathsheba.” The superscription draws foe Psalm close to foe narrative of II Samuel 11-12. Thus we are able to say that foe Psalm presents David who has violated the commandments (on killing and adultery), who stands under severo divined judgment, and who here speaks a deeply moving and apparently deeply felt repentance. It is this tradition that has helped to establish the popular notion of David as foe “author” of foe Psalms. ft is, however, generally agreed that the superscriptions are “secondary.” That is, they are added much later in foe tradition and do not provide clues to origin ٢٠to original speaker.Thus theon-goinginterpretivetraditionhasgenerated foe”،:harticter” who speaks in foe Psalm: “foe Psalm titles do not appear to reflect independent historical tradition but are foe result of an exegetical activity which derived its material


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    from within the text itself.”’° Two matters become clear as we ponder the interpretive move from an “original” anonymous speaker to an “historical” identified speaker in the snperscription. First, the Fsalms are acutely specific. They treat particular circumstances, particular crises, and particular verbal responses to circumstance and crisis. But second, that specificity is transportable. The Psalm could move from circumstance to circumstance, from emotional extremity to emotional extremity, from speaker to speaker. The poetry of repentance in Psalm 51 is quite specific, but it is belatedly transported to David. In fact, when we read the Psalms liturgically or devotionally, we also engage in such transport, though we seldom reflect on the process. Thus with the beloved Psalm 23, we do know the original speaker of the poem. We easily assign it to David. In our reading,however,we do not lingerover David; we readily transportthePsalm(without critical reflection) to our own circumstance, to our own valley of the shadow of death, to our cup running over, and to our own dwelling in the house of the Pord forever. The Psalms have identifiable genres. But they are not generic. They are specific, and we engage in agile interpretation in order to make them our own specificity. Brevard Childs notes, “One senses the variety within the canonical process,” through which the Psalms are “often greatly refashioned for use by the later community .” I propose that the preacher contribute to “the variety of different hermeneutical moves” and continue the refashioning for later use.11 By this I suggest that the preacher assign new superscriptions to the Psalms in order to give the Psalms new contemporary currency. Such a new specificity may pertain to someone in the congregation or someone outside it. The new superscription might be shared with the congregation, or if it is too intimate for that, it might be used only to free and teed tee imagination of the preacher without public identification. I came to this awareness and possibility when, long ago, I was teaching Psalm 109, a Psalm of immense vengefulness. It was and is my pedagogical habit to ask tee class, “Who is tee speaker hero?” I was not asking an te^rical-critical question, but rather was inviting pastoral imagination. Thus we read Psalm 109:8-13:

    May his children be orphans, and his wife a widow. May his children wander about and beg; may they be driven out of the ruins they inhibit. May tee creditor seize all that he has; may strangers plunder tee fruits of his toil. May there be no one to do him a kindness, nor anyone to pity his otphaned children. May his posterity be cut off; may his name be blotted out in the second generation.

    When I asked, “Who is speaking here?” Linda answered quickly and confidently, “This voice of the Psalm is a woman who has been raped.” Her answer caused a long pause in the room. Linda,s verdict of course is not historical-critical. It is personal, intense, and contemporary. And of course Linda is right, though I would not have thought of it. That is exactly tee character who speaks here, one deeply offended and violated, but one with courage to speak out and demand teat God’s punishment should be commensurate with the violation she has suffered. The Psalm, moreover.


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    ends with deep affirmation of the steadfast God who attends to our violations:

    Beeause your steadfast love is good, deliver m e…. For he stands at the right hand of the needy, to save them from those who would eondemn them to death, (vv. 21;31)

    The preaeher may never tell the eongregation about such a contemporary connection . But simply entertaining such an interpretive context will greatly illumine, because the preaching task is to tell the story reflected in the Fsalm a) with great specificity and then b) to invite transport of that specificity to other specificities. I believe that the heuristic generativity of such new superscriptions might be especially useful with some of the angry Fsalms of vengeance. ٧Very many church people might say and genuinely affirm that they have never been that angry and would never pray that way. But then a very different superscription might transport the force of the Psalm away from us to someone else, perhaps a mother in Baghdad whose son has just been killed by a bomb…or an inner-city mother in the United States with the same loss through neighborhood violence. Such a transport might be an effective strategy for getting our minds off ourselves and transposing foe Psalm into an internession , to pray with and alongside those who require prayers that we would never utter for ourselves. Because foe Psalter is foe voicing of emotional extremity, the church has available here access to foe deepest anguishes and highest elations that must be voiced, even if they are not always grounded in our own immediate experience. We do “share each other’s woes” ؛foe scope of such sharing of woes is farther opened by these poems beyond “our own kind.” And of course the same applies to foe great hymns of exultation and elation. Thus for example, foe gladness of Psalm 65:9-3 لcelebrates the gift of rain upon which life depends:

    You visit the earth and water it, you greatly enrich it ؛ foe river of God is full of water ؛ you provide the people with grain, for you have prepared it. You water its furrows abundantly, settling it ridges, softening it with showers, and blessing its growth. You crown foe year with your bounty ؛ your wagon tracks overflow with richness. The pastures of the wilderness overflow, the hills gird themselves with joy, the meadows clothe themselves with flocks, the valleys deck themselves with grain, they shout and sing together for joy.

    Perhaps foe ^erscrip tio n might be “a congregation in Texas after foe breaking of severe draught.” Or perhaps the wonder of a coherent peaceableness would be reflected in Psalm 85:10-11 that might serve any reconciliation in a family or in a congregation or in a great national “Truth and Reconciliation Commission.” The superscription might be “when Peter and Andrew found a peaceable settlement of


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    their father’s will:

    Steadfast leve and feithfulness will meet؛ righteousness and peaee will kiss each other. Faithfiilness will spring up from the ground, and righteousness will look down from the sky.

    Or the familiar table prayer of Fsalm 145:15-16 might serve “The Dedication of New Food Coop”:

    T te e ^ s of all look to you, and you give them their food in due season. You open your hand, satisfying the desire of every living thing.

    In suchacontext,the sharp warning ofverse 20b,“All the wicked he will destroy,” is a wake-up call about environmental violence that will not be tolerated. I suggest that when intepretive transport teems with new characters in emotional extremity, foe possibilities for the preacher are limitless. The preacher permits the Psalm to voice foe great wounds and the great gifts of the day.

    IVPlot and character are interpretive features that will do generative work for foe preacher. Plot is foe directional flow of life that we all have in common that moves willy-nilly from a stasis well-being to trouble and sometimes to new possibility. Character is foe identification, in quite specific ways, of the endless stream of God’s creatures who face the daily realities of gift and wound. The preacher is to narrate foe plot, often only a bit or a piece of the entire narrative. The preacher’s task is to drew foe Psalm close to a specific character, or better, to drew our character close to the Psalm and thereby to have our own sense of self reconfigured and repositioned. The characters in these Psalms are rich in emotional extremity and are invited to enter as full ^rticipants in the plot at the appropriate access point. But matters of plot and character cause us finally to notice that foe Psalter is God- occupied. God is often addressed here as “thou,” sometimes in glad doxology as we have seen in Psalm 65:9-13, sometimes in bitter denunciation over infidelity. Thus Psalm 44 might be read “National Rage after 9/11.”

    Yet you have rejected us and abased us, and have not gone out with our armies. You made us turn back from foe foe, and our enemies have gotten spoil. You have made us like sheep for slaughter, and have scattered us among foe nations. You have sold your people for a trifle, demanding no high price for them. You have made us the taunt of our neighbors, . the derision and scorn of those around us.


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    You h،؛¥e made us a byword among dte nations, a laughing stoek among the peoples…. ،١٨this has come upon us, yet we have not forgotten you, or been false to your covenant. ( .٧٧9-1?)

    The plot draws our life and the life of the world into intense interaction with God. As in the model text of Psalm . .)(٩God is everywhere in the sequence of the standard plot:

    * implied in the stasis of prosperity ( .٧٧6-?a); * hidden in dismay (? .٧b); * addressed in supplication ( .٧8); * questioned as to moti¥ation ( .٧9); * petitioned to act as God is able ( .٧10); * acknowledged as the agent of “turn” ( .٧11); * praised for transform are action ( .٧1?).

    Without God…no poem! And with the poem, only this particular God! Thus the plot is an artistic portrayal of the way life is performed in intense engagement with God. The character of God is rich and supple. This is not a God who can be reduced to the certitudes of one-dimensional fundamentalism, nor is this a God who can be safe and “non-interventionist” as some progresses prefer. This is a God who Is an acti¥e agent, endlessly elusive. on occasion available, celebrated frequently as “faithful and steadfast,” but known as well to be unfaithfril, not steadfast, fickle, absent, neglectful. This is a God who “can do all things,” so we hope for this God as an ally in the daily contest of our lives; but sometimes the same character is remote and indifferent, and so Israel (and we) may be relentless toward God. Even though there is no divine response in ?salm 88, the calling on God never quits. God’s hand must be forced! The Psalm might be entitled “The daily urgency of Sam who could not find a job”:

    0 Tord, God of my salvation, when, at night 1 cry out in your presence, let my prayer come before you, incline your ear to my cry…. Every day 1 call on you, ٠Lord; 1 spread out my hands to you…. But L ٠Lord, cry out to you, in the morning my prayer comes before you. ( .٧٧1-2,9,13)

    This particular superscription is evoked by the recognition that unemployment is eventually ostracizing; I may be shunned by friend and neighbor ( .٧٧8,18). In the performance of the plot and in the tracing o f the character of God, the preacher sketches out a God-occupied world. This is a God for whom no secret can be hid. This is a God who is near by and far off (Jeremiah 23:2.3 ). This is a God with


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    whom life is intense, wondrous, demanding, open-ended, and hope-filled. This is a God who is a eompelling mateh for the emotional extremity of our life in the world. The wonder of God matehes our elation ؛fee absenee of God eorresponds to our anguish . This God makes possible and makes necessary fee full diselosure of how it is wife us. All of this means that the ?salter has on offer a remarkable alternative to fee flat, reductionist world of denial in which we are mostly expected to live. Such a world, we imagine, is manageable.. .or cannot be managed. We imagine that we are on our own and can do as we please.. .or we imagine we are on own and must run fee race in order not to fall behind. But the ?salms know better than that. The preacher knows better than that. And when fee preacher knows, the church can know, and when fee church knows, there can be a subversive, generative enactment of courage, energy, and freedom. It begins when our emotional extremities are honored and resituated in the presence of God from whom no secret can be hid. The dominant world all around us is like a maximum security intelligence community wife reams and reams of well-kept secrets, secrets of elation and anguish. But such secrets kill! The telling gives life! That cage of lethal secrecy is interrupted every time we reperform our lives through a Psalm.

    Notes 1. John Calvin, Commentary on the Book of Psalms volume first (Grand Rapids: Baker Book House, 1979), xxxvi-xxxvii. 2. George Lindbeek, The Nature ofDoctrine: Religion and Theology in a Postliberal Age (?hiladelphia: Westminster ?ress, 41 -32 ,(984 .لLindbeek eomments: Thus the h^istie-eultural model is part of an outlook that stresses the degree to whieh human existenee is shaped, molded, and in a sense constituted by eultural and linguistie forms…. This stress on eode, rather than the (e. g., propositionally) eneoded, enables a eultural-linguistie approaeh to accommodate the experiential-expressive concern for the unreflective dimensions of human experience far better than is possible in a cognitivist outlook. (34-35) 3. See Walter Brueggemann, “The Formfulness of Grief,” The Psalms and the Life ofFaith, ed. ?atriek D. Miller (Minneapolis: Fortress Fress, 1995), 84-97. 4. See the full exposition of this phrase by George w. Stroup, Before God (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans Fress, 2004). 5. Erhard w. Gerstenberger, Der Bittende Mensche: Bittritual und Klagelied des Einzelnen im alten Testament (^ukirchen-VJuyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1980). 6. Claus Westermann, The Living Psalms (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1989), 166-200 and The Psalms: Structure, Content & Message (Minneapolis: Augsburg Publishing House, 1980), 73-83. 7. Walter Brueggemann, “Fsalms and the Life of Faith: A Suggested Typology of Function,” The Psalms and the Life ofFaith, ed. Fatrick D. Miller (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 32 -3 ,(995.ل 8.BerndJanowski ,ArguingwithGod.’ATheologicalAnthropologyofthePsalms (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2013) has provided a full exposition of the drama of the Fsalms under a three-fold rubric: I. From Life to Death, II. Interlude: The Gate of the Abyss, m . From Death to Life. This study will be the reference point for subse^ent discussion. 9. Brevard s. Childs, “Fsalm Titles and Midrashlc Exegesis,” Journal ofSemitic Studies 16/2 (Autumn, I97I): 137-150. 10. Ibid., 143. See also Brevard s. Childs, Introduction to the Old Testament as Scripture (Fhiladelphia: Fortress Press, 1979), 520-522. ll.Ibid.,522. 12. On these Psalms, see Erich Zenger,^ GodofVengeance; Understanding the Psalms ofDivine Wrath (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1996).

  • Who’s that knocking at my door?

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    Who’s That Knocking at My Door?

    Revelation 3:15-22

    Martin B. Copenhaver Andover Newton Theological School, Newton Center, Massachusetts

    The Buie ofBenedict is a document that has ordered the lite ofBenedictine monks for 1500 years. That remarkable document, written by Saint Benedict of Nursia, instructs the monks in how they are to live their daily lives together in community. One of the things that Benedict describes is a particular role, the “porter” of the monastery. Quite simply, the porter is the one who opens the door to the monastery when someone knocks. Not much of a role, you say? Ah, but there is so much to it, so much entailed, and so much communicated in how one opens a door. Roman Catholic nun and author Joan Chlttister goes so far as to say, “The way we answer doors is the way we deal with the world.” In the Rule of Benedict, the porter is given very specific ‘ He is to sleep near the entrance to the monastery so he can hear and respond in a timely way when someone knocks. Then, as soon as anyone knocks, likely a poor person because they often sought refuge in monasteries, the porter is to reply, “Thanks be to God,” or “Your blessing, please.” That’s before he even knows who is on the other side of the door. Before the porter knows who that person is ٢٠why he or she is there, he is to praise God for that person’s presence and to ask for the person’s blessing. Isn’t that remarkable? Dorothy Parker, the author who was famous for her dark wit, used to answer her telephone with this greeting: “What fresh hell is this?” Most of us don’t respond in that way, but I do know a pastor who says that when he started out in ministry, when he would go into his office and see that little red light on the phone that indicates that he had a message, his first response was something like “Uh-oh.” He anxiously wondered what need was being brought to him and whether he could meet it. And he would have to collect himself a bit before he could pick up the receiver and listen to the message. Gratefully, he got over that response, but I don’t think he has yet gotten to the point that when he sees that little red light on the phone, he says, “Thanks be to God.” Well, what do you think when someone knocks on your door? Is it closer to “What fresh hell is this?” ٢٠is it closer to “Thanks be to God?” Probably somewhere in between, right? But which way do you lean? Benedict goes on to say that the porter should be prepared to respond whenever there is a knock at the door. It could be in the middle of the night ٢٠when the porter has just sat down to eat. The porter is to be welcoming at all times and notjust when it is convenient. The porter is to offer a welcome, in Benedict’s words, “with all the gentleness that comes from reverence of God,” and “with the warmth of love.” And then the porter is to make sure that the other monks know of the presence of a visitor in their midst so that they can join in extending a welcome. Can you begin to see why I say there is a lot to this role of being a porter? You know, there are people in our congregation who play that role. They may not have the title of “porter,” but they play that role. They are quick to extend a welcome, and


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    they know how to eommunieate that they receive a newcomer’s presence as a gift, as sureiy as if they were to exclaim “Thanks he to God.” What an important roie. Some days I think it is the most important role of all. Some communities—perhaps by taking the lead of their official ٢٠unofficial porters—radiate a kind of welcome that receives visitors as gifts, no matter the circumstances . ?articularly when you are in need, perhaps nothing is more life-giving than that kind of welcome. 1 remember once when I was in seminary, I was driving with a couple of friends in the beautiful and genteel countrysideofnorthwestern Connecticut.Mycarbrokedown. It was always breaking down in those days. It was a time before cell phones—some of you will remember that there was such a time—so I needed to find a phone. I went up to the nearest house and knocked on the door. I could hear a lot of conversation and laughter coming from the house. The man who opened the door—who had never seen me before—did not step outside to speak with this stranger, did not stand in the doorway while I stood outside. Instead, his first words to me were, “?lease come in.” He did not know me. He did not know why I was there, but he immediately said, “Please come in.” I remember being quite struck by that, taken aback, really. When 1 stepped inside and told him about my car problem, he let me use the phone. When I got off the phone, I thanked him, and he asked how long before the road service truck would get there. I told him, “They said about half an hour.” He responded, “Well then you might as well join the party. Can I get you a glass of wine?” When I explained that I had two friends back in the car, he said, “Well, bring them in.” So my friends and 1 joined the party. When the road service arrived and the car was revived (as I recall, it just needed some kind of belt), I went back to the house to thank our host. He said, “Gh, but please stay for dinner.” And then I noticed that my friends already had plates in their hands. It was like we were expected all along. By the way, it was soon after we joined the party that we learned that this was a gathering of a Bible study group from the local Bpiscopal church. That was over thirty years ago. But you don’t forget a welcome like that. Some households are like that. The home in which I grew up was a welcoming one, but my parents always liked to be prepared for visitors. When I was in high school, if I told my mother that a couple of friends were going to come over to, say, watch a hockey game on T¥, she would have sodas laid out on the kitchen counter with a bowl of potato chips with plastic wrap over the top to keep them crisp. She would peak in the room where we were watching the game and greet my friends, but not stay very long, which, as teenage boys, we probably thought was just about right. So she had a wonderful welcoming way. But not so much when visitors came unannounced. When, say, one of my friends just showed up, just knocked on the door, both of my parents were just a little bit thrown by that. Just a little, but enough that I could sense it, and perhaps my friends could also. Is that why in high school we always seemed to gravitate toward David Blair’s house? That was the gathering place. If you didn’t know where my friends and I were, it would be a safe bet that we would be at David Blair’s house. Why was that? Quite simply because his parents were like porters. It was like they were always expecting you to knock on the door (when we even bothered to knock). They made it seem like there was no such thing as an inconvenient time and that your presence was not a burden, but more like a gift.


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    So I think of the porter in the monastery and the people who play that role in this eongregation, and I think of the host who weleomed three young strangers like treasnred guests at his party, and 1 think of David Blair’s parents. And 1 wonder why more of us are not like that. 1 wonder what prevents us from responding to a knock on the door by saying “Thanks be to God.” Well, to state the obvious, most of us don’t like interruptions. We would rather live our days by our own plans. 1 try to imagine someone asking me, “Gould 1 interest you in an interruption today?” 1 might respond, “No, thank you. Being interrupted is not on my list of things to do today.” 1 say that by way of confession, of course, because 1 recognize that interruptions are one of God’s preferred ways of getting our attention. The origin of the word interrupt is helpful here. It is derived from two Latin words: inter, meaning “between,” and rumpere, which means, “break in.” We usually experience interruptions as our routine breaking up, when it may be that God is trying to break in to our lives. Interruptions can be God’s way of breaking in between our moments, breaking in between our harried rushing from this to that, breaking in between our rigid expectations. Sometimes a knock on the door is that kind of interruption. And so the porter says in response, “Thanks be to God.” Father Theodore Hessberg reflected on his experience as the president of Notre Dame University by noting that when he started in that role,ظ was so impatient with students and faculty who, by knocking on his door, were continually interrupting his work. That response lasted until he realized that the Interruptions are his work. Well, that’s not only true of university presidents, but it’s also true of pastors, and its true ofChristians, allofus. Interruptions aro our work. “Thanks be to God.” And we probably also have a hard time receiving a knock on the door with immediate thanksgiving because the one who arrives may not be the one we expected. It may be a stranger whose ways are indeed strange to us. That repuires something like adjustment. To truly receive a guest, to make room for that guest, requires that we adjust our routines and our expectations. Sometimes that stranger that requires that kind of hospitality is a member of our own family. One father I know, when the contours ofhis daughter’s personality began to emerge, said, “It’s like we welcomed a stranger into our house, a stranger who didn’t come from the outside, but from inside.” We may be able to choose to have children, but we cannot choose the children we have. Often the one we are asked to receive is not the one we expected. Perhaps that’s why the porter doesn’t even wait to see who is knocking on the door before declaring, “Thanks be to God.” That way it is clear that the word of thanks is offered unconditionally. That way it is clear that you are not asking the stranger to change ٢٠be somehow differeut before a word of thanksgiving can be offered. A pastor friend of mine served a church where there was declining membership, so he prayed for new members to enliven his congregation. He asked the members ofhis congregation to join him in those prayers. Just a few new families. Is that too much to ask? The new families he envisioned never came. But a home for adults with developmental disabilities did open nearby, and some of the residents began to come to worship. And then those folks brought some of their friends. And the congregation received these newcomers warmly, even if a bit awkwardly at first. It required something of an adjustment. For one, they had to adjust their expectations of what a new member of the church would be like. True hospitality does not ask a


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    guest to ehange, but it does demonst!־ate a willingness to be changed by the guest. And, by the way, when these newcomers joined the church, my friend said that it was the most joyous service they had shared in a very long time. He said, “By receiving these new folks, we became more of a church than I thought we were capable of.” In other words, they had been changed. No, we do not always hear a knock on the door and immediately respond, “Thanks be to God.” That can be hard to do sometimes. Without implying that the issues surrounding ‘ are simple—they are not—I do think it is interesting to think about immigration in this way. When, as it were, an immigrant knocks on our door, is our response more like Dorothy Barker’s, “What fresh hell is this?” or is it closer to the porter’s, “Thanks be to God?” The image of Jesus standing at the door and knocking, which comes from our reading from Revelation, has long been a popular image with evangelical Christians. In that rendering Jesus is knocking at the door of an unregenerate heart, seeking entrance. It is another way of saying that Jesus longs to have an individual accept him as personal Lord and Savior. But there is another way to understand the image of Jesus standing at the door and knocking. It is related, but it is also different and very much along the lines of what we have been considering here. Why is the porter in a Benedictine monastery so quick to respond when someone knocks on the door? Why does he go to such extraordinary lengths to welcome the stranger? It is not just out of some general sense that it is the right thing to do. No, the porter immediately gets up to respond when someone knocks on the door of the monastery because it might be Jesus. It might be Jesus knocking on the door. Not Jesus as we have ever encountered him before, but Jesus just the same. As an old Celtic saying has it, “Oft, oft, ofr goes Christ in stranger’s guise.” Or, as Mother Teresa of Calcutta used to put it, “Jesus often comes to us in his distressing disguise as one of the poor.” After all, didn’t Jesus say, “As you did to one of the least of these, my brothers and sisters, you did it to me?” $ ٠when a porter—or someone of a porter’s spirit—hears a knock on the door, he doesn’t tarry ٢٠ask, “Who’s that knocking at my door?” No, instead, he gets up and declares, “Thanks be to God,” and asks, “Your blessing, please,” because it could be Jesus. And often—oft, oft, oft—it is.

  • Preaching hope in a time of discouragement

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    Page 10

    Preaching Hope in a Time of Discouragement

    Theodore j. Wardlaw

    Austin ?resbyterian Theological Seminary, Austin, Texas

    One of my favorite pictures of what “church” looks like at its best is the wordpicture Frederick Buechner drew in a sermon he preached somewhere some thirty years ago. He was imagining people who come to church week after week—what they looked like, what they were thinking, how they were changed. Ferhaps, on any given Sunday, Buechner mused, they weren’t changed much at all. He wrote:

    Yet they kept on coming anyway, and beneath all the lesser reasons they had for doing so, so far beneath that they themselves were only half aware of it, I think there was a deep reason, and if 1 could give only one word to characterize that reason, the word I would give is hope. They came here. ..to get married and stood here with their hearts in their mouths and their knees knockingto mumble their wild and improbable vows in these very shadows. They came to christen their babies here—carried them in their long white dresses hopingtheywouldn’tscream bloody murder when the minister took them in his arms and signed their foreheads with a watery cross. They came here to bury their dead, and brought in, along with the still finished bodies, all the most un-St¡!!, unfinished love, gu!؛t, sadness, relief, that are part of what death always is for the living. In other words what they were doing essentially beneath this roof was offering up the most precious moments of their lives in the hope that there was a God to hallow them—a God to hear and seal their vows, to receive their children into [God’s] unimaginable kingdom, to raise up and cherish their dead. I see them sitting here, generations of them, a little uncomfortable in their Sunday best with their old faces closed like doors and their young faces blank as clapboard; but deep within those faces—farther down than their daydreams and boredom and way beyond any horizon of their wandering minds that they could describe—there was the hope that somewhere out of all the words and music and silences of this place, and out of a mystery even greater than the mystery of the cosmos itself, a voice that they would ^ ٧١٠١١from all other voices would speak their names and bless them.1

    In his homiletical imagination, Buechner remembered—and described and all but named—the people who have come to church, who have been church, across all the centuries of the church’s life. What beckoned them was the hope that a voice would speak their names and bless them. What sort of hope beckons us in these days? These are, after all, discouraging days for many church people. We take the measure ofthings—the ” experience of being marginalized by an indifferent culture, the decline in worship attendance, the underrepresentation of the millenials, the rise of the “Nones”—and we get anxious. Moreover, since Reinhold Niebuhr was right years ago when he observed that anxiety is the precondition of both creativity and sin, it is so often the


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    case that our anxiety drives as to go looking for hope in all the wrong places. There are certain kinds of hope which are both appealing and inadequate. There is a kind of hope which ties ns too closely to the externals of life—which goes up and down like election season polls. If things are looking good today—if I’m feeling well, and there’s plenty of money in the bank, and I just got a promotion, and the news of the world is not as bad today as it was yesterday—then I have hope. Churches often fall into the practice of this kind ofhope. In my role as a seminary president, I am always getting phone calls from toe ?astor Nominating Committees representing churches,large and small,across toe country. “Can you give us toe names of pastors who would be good fits for us?” they ask. Sometimes they express interest in a good preacher, a good pastor, a good theologian, a good visionary, someone interested in evangelism and social justice, all of that. But all too often, they just cut to toe chase: “We want someone who will fill this place again.” “Fill it with what?” I’ll sometimes ask. “We don’t really care; we just want to grow again.” Their hope is based on toe externals. Fix the externals, they’re thinking—bring in new members, electrify the worship, turn around toe dashboard metrics—and toe Kingdom of God will come in. In these days when some Fresbyterian Church (U.S.A.) co n statio n s are hosting conversations about schism, there are these occasional meetings which you can attend where a guest speaker will stand up in toe front of a large room and point to some very impressive charts. The high-water mark at toe top of one particular graph will show the denomination’s total communicant membership way back there in toe 1950’s. And then, like a sliding board, toe line ftom that mark descends depressively across toe width of toe chart toward toe current year, at a point somewhere near toe bottom right-hand corner, while toe speaker makes toe dramatic point that this is toe evidence of toe wayward influence and incipient liberalism of a communion that has lost its way. My own thinking is that there is a much larger cultural phenomenon going on that is impacting every ecclesial family in America—the Frotestant mainline generally considered; toe Catholics in every region except, perhaps, toe border states (like toe one I live in); even those Evangelicals whose rhetoric about their own immunity from these trends has sometimes been prematurely triumphalistic. This larger cultural phenomenon signals a profoundly spiritual problem and hunger, for sure, to which Christians ought to be attentive, but also tracks toe rise of individualism and a malaise generally considered and toe decline of voluntary associational groups of all sorts—religious and civic. It is, in short, a big hairy dilemma toe dimensions of which are multi-layered and complicated. But what is so often implied by a flimsy and self-serving analysis of that descending line on toe big chart up front is that if you and your congregation will only join toe shiny new denomination that has paid for toe guest speaker’s travel expenses, then in no time at all you will all witness toe reversal of those downward trends as your church’s measurables once again rise up toward toe evidence of greater faithfulness at toe top right-hand comer of the chart. If things are going well with respect to toe external measurements, then we have hope. The problem with this sort of hope, of course, is that that’s when I am least persuaded that I need hope. The point at which I need hope toe most is precisely when hope is in its shortest supply. A hope, therefore, which is so dependent upon the positive measurable externals of life is a hope that will not sustain us in hopeless times.


    Page 12

    There is an©ther kind of hope that goes in the exaet opposite direetion—that cultivates as few ties as possible to the externals oflife. For there is a way of hoping that depends upon being totally disconnected from the daily affairs ofhuman history. This approach to hope simply focuses upon the “sweet by and by” without drawing any connections with the needs of the world in which we live. This is the kind ofhope we hear about, for sure, in the neat pieties of privatized religion—a hope that centers around a one-on-one relationship between the believer and God that is not likely to require any more public expression. Years ago, Sally Brown ffom Frinceton Theological Seminary made the observation that the old nineteenth-century hymn “I Come to the Garden Alone,” with its vision of a Jesus who “walks with me, and.. ·talks with me, and.. ■tells me that 1 am his own…” could be the anthem of twenty-first century Anglo-Frotestant spirituality. “The people to whom we preach today,” she wrote, “are highly influenced by a culture of individualism…. [M]any understand Christian spirituality in fundamentally individualistic terms—as a matter between the self and God.”^ This sort of privatized hope is discernible in many churches that are high on spirituality and indifferent to any imperative to apply it in any sort of outwardly commnnal ٢٠missional direction. But such a constricted version ofhope is not just visible in church; there are secular versions of it, also. This is the hope, I suspect, behind the allure of those suburban highway billboards trumpeting the assets of those bucolic gated communities awaiting us at the next exit. We may work in a shop ٢٠skyscraper downtown, but those planned communities in the woodsy perimeters of town awaiting us at the end ٠۴ the day make possible a disengagement from the noise and messy problems of urban life. There are those in many of our churches who have constructed for themselves hermetically-sealed cocoons that provide for them the gift of “salvation by separation .” When they go home to the gated house in the gated neighborhood—with its wall and its security code and its splendid isolation—it is possible to experience a secularized version of “the sweet by and by.” The problem with a hope that is dependent upon the positive measurable externals oflife ٢٠with a highly privatized hope that is dependent upon “the sweet by and by” is that neither of these attempts at hope approaches the rich, redemptive, eschatological flavor of biblical hope. Biblical hope—hope that is attested to throughout the pages of Scripture—has always given its most eloquent wimess over against the world’s bleakest backdrop, ft is the kind of hope that the prophets threw out as a lifeline of comfort for the chastened Israelites to cling to in the midst of exile. Jeremiah, for instance, testifies to being commanded by God in the midst of the Babylonian siege of Jerusalem that will lead to the first exile to buy a field in the midst of Judah. As my Old Testament colleague Or. Suzi Park has said, “Though he knows that exile is coming, Jeremiah listens and obeys God’s command. He buys a field in a land that is about to be conquered and destroyed as a gesture of hope and faith that God will eventually save and return the people back to their land…. Indeed, an act of hope in the midst of discouragement!”^ This is the kind ofhope that St. John wrote about when he envisioned that same comfort taking on human form and coming into the world as light which would shine in the darkness and which darkness would not overcome. It is toe kind ٠۴ hope that St. Paul described when he wrote to toe Roman Christians: “Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we


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    wait for it with patien€e.”^ In both Testaments, sueh biblical hope is not fair-weather hope and not escapist hope, but hope that places itself squarely in foe midst of pain. In that specific location, hope speaks a distinct word to pain that, all evidence to the contrary, thin§s as they are are not things as they will be. Biblical hope is hope that starts in a hopeless place and then weaves itself throughout the amazing saga of the people of God in every age. It is hope, finally, that acquaints itself as well with our saga, too, yours and mine. It is crucial to preach this hope in times of discouragement such as these. When it takes so little imagination to behold the bleakness of the world around us—consumed as it is by terrorism and war and income inequity and environmental danger and foe bloated lives made possible by a near-addictive consumerism, and in a church often surrounded by foe magnitude of human needs and fears—it is crucial for foe preachers of hope to remember two things. First, the good news of the Gospel began, as it always does, in foe midst of foe very teeth of death and despair. It drew near to human pain, not human triumph. It rooted itself in a cemetery, after all, foe last place in which anyone expects to encounter life, where faithful people encountered foe risen Christ. Secondly, foe Gospel is preached into the midst of community. In the Matthean account of resurrection, for example, two women went to that Jerusalem cemetery encumbered by a view of life on foe ground, but there in that hopeless place they met the risen Christ. Rather than encouraging them to stay there, marinating in their ’ he directed them back to foe world and the church. “Do not be afraid,” he said; “go and tell my brothers [and sisters] to go to Galilee; there they will meet me.”5 His word to them was to go and tell foe church, for foe unexpected news in that arena of death would not be intended to be a private experience. So they were sent back to foe world and to foe church by Gne Who had overcome foe inevitability of death and thus saw foe life beyond death with foe bigger vision that is only possible with foe right kind of eyesight. Preaching hope in these discouraging times requires this right kind of eyesight. It requires, I believe, that foe preacher name without fear foe conditions that assault hope, foe very conditions in any age for which foe biblical message of hope is always intended. Moreover, preaching hope in these times requires that foe preacher point listeners back again and again to foe very same arena toward which Jesus has always pointed them—the world and the church. I sometimes hear people of faith, including many seminary leaders, drawing a false dichotomy between foe world and foe church—as if the church is so ghettoized and compromised now by its own self-absorption and self-destruction that even God has given up on it. Better now, I have sometimes heard them say, that we jettison our historic ‘־with foe church and direct our intellectual and missional energy toward the world generally considered. “After all,” I actually heard one lecturer say once at a meeting of seminary leaders, “Jesus didn,t say in Matthew 28, ‘Go therefore into foe church and make disciples;’ he said, ‘Go therefore into all nations and make disciples… .’” ٠Well, fair enough. But, since Jesus also beheld Peter—that ‘ neurotic and mercurial disciple almost comically given to repeatedly putting his foot in his own mouth—and said, “You are Peter, and on fois rock I will build my church,”1 can we not admit and claim boldly that Jesus loves both foe world and foe church? Sally Brown, quoted above with respect to foe dilemmas inherent


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    in ©ur culture of individualism, went on to say that “the Reformed tradition insists [that] distinctively Christian spirituality is irreducibly corporate and ‘ short, ecclesial, spirituality.”؟And so it is. Preachers of hope cannot stress that point often enough. One of my favorite preachers of hope was Dr. Jack L·. Stotts, a theologian,ethicist, and a predecessor of mine in foe Presidents Office at Austin Seminary. For each of foe years of his presidency here, he gave a Charge to foe graduating class at foe Seminary’s commencement ceremony. In 1994, he riffed on another text from Matthew : “See, I am sending you out like sheep into foe midst of wolves…” وNot such a great way to send someone out into service in foe church, if you ask me, except that Jack was reading that text with just foe right kind of eyesight. And so he went on to say this:

    The wolves of our day are not the wolves ofMatthew’s time. They are not an identifiable group in foe churches, as much as we would like to point them out as fois or that interest group ofthe right ٢٠left. The wolves instead are forces that act to deterthe daring action andrisk-takingventures to which Jesus calls us….In foe churches which have suffered loss of membership over the past several years, there is foe wolf of uneasiness and discomfort that invites us to focus on what will add numbers without counting foe cost to foe full-voiced gospel. In a market-driven religious environment, there is foe temptation to offer what will please rather than what will stir. For a church that struggles with its identity, there is a temptation to sertie on foe lowest common denominator, one that will hold people together at all costs. And there is foe equally corrupting temptation to provide a formula-faith that invests authority in what is penultimate: our experience, foe Scripture, foe church, or a creed, rather than what is ultimate—the God who calls us in Jesus Christ. There is foe alluring temptation in an unstable environment to long for and to seek a risk-free world, or at least an enclave of assurance and comfort And thus there arises in foe church a culture of intimidation that works against standing up for foe right and seeking foe truth, no matter what. This culture is one of defensiveness and fear, discouraging ٢٠avoiding struggle, of denying foe wolves of ignorance and greed, of poverty and constriction of spirit, foe wolves that prowl around us and within us, ravenous beasts of prey. But listen: “I send you out tike sheep into foe midst of wolves.” It is not athreat. It is a charge worthy of your gifts, your faith, your knowledge. It is a word not to douse your enthusiasm but to elevate it. It is a word not to discourage you but to encourage you. It is a word not to make foe task of ministry threatening, but to affirm its noble and ennobling dimensions…. And I send you out not armed with automatic weapons to kill the wolves, but as a bearer of love that will overcome them. This love confronts foe beasts that devour our spirits…. This love rests on foe love of God that has in Jesus Christ overcome foe wolves ofthe world, rebuking foe untruthful, urging…thinking and acting that frightens even its proponents, and having the courage to risk one’s own comfort and security for foe sake ofthe gospel.10


    Page 15

    Every now and then, when we behold the church of faithful experience as opposed to the ehurch ٤٠our most relentlessly impossible dreams, we can see breathtaking evidence ٤٠such embodiment of hope. In a recent issue ٤٠Texas Monthly, I read an article that recounted a parable ٤٠ such embodiment. The tiny hamlet of Wells—hardly a wide spot in the road in the piney woods ofeast Texas—has become the home of a small following of separatist fundamentalists, not more than 90 members ineluding some 35 children. The “elders” ٤٠this cult-like congregation moved the whole eongregation there from Houston in one fell swoop and began to treat the ?00 or so citizens ٤٠Wells like unwashed heathens. These elders, all ٤٠them young men, practice a process “ ٤٠shunning,” which includes separating new recruits from their families. They have bought several pieces ٤٠real estate in the town, from which they control their own members with high-handed strategies of indoctrination and proclaim that all other Christian bodies …………………………… the three small Baptist, Methodist, and Peutecostal congregations in Wells—are apostate. Many families from across the country, whose young adult children have been lured into membership in this church, have come to Wells hoping in vain to be able to see their children and perhaps encourage them to come home. These families have been denied unsupervised time with their recruited loved ones and have been treated with suspicion and disregard by the elders who control and monitor their access. Gradually their plight has become common knowledge amongst the pastors and church people in the community, as the townspeople, too, have become more alarmed over the secretive and abusive behaviors they have witnessed . A few months ago, the Baptist and Methodist pastors in town organized a prayer vigil. They gathered near the old railroad depot and marched, some 75 or so locals, to the ramshackle house that is the headquarters ٤٠this new congregation. By the time they got there, the crowd had swelled to over a hundred. There was an uneasy conversation in the from yard ٤٠the house between the leaders ٤٠the march and several leaders of the separatist church. One of the elders shouted at the crowd, “You love the world and you think the love of God is in you?… You should be ashamed ٤٠yourselves that you’d come out, this night, playing the fools ٤٠God…. You are false Ghristians.” Later, pointing at one ٤٠the local pastors, he shouted, “If you follow these blind leaders, you’re going to fall into a ditch and you’re going to burn in hell!… This man is not a man ٤٠God. This man knows not the Lord Jesus Christ!” But in the midst ٤٠this loud tirade, the sputterings ٤٠this man were drowned out by a new and louder sound. It was the sound ٤٠singing, as the church people ٤٠Wells took up the songs ٤٠their faith:

    Oh, how I love Jesus, Oh, how I love Jesus, Oh, how I love Jesus, Because He first loved me!

    When that song was over, they sang “Victory in Jesus,” and when that song was over, they sang yet another. The meeting eventually dispersed, but toe church people ٤٠Wells had found their voice, and now in various ways, they are continuing to raise their voices against toe tyranny ٤٠a dangerous spirit dwelling in their midst.11

    ?entecost2014


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    Truthfully,the Church ofjesus Christ is not always mueh to look at when it comes to assessing the powers of the world and which of those powers we would he wise to bet on. It is, after all, so often polarized and embattled and timid. All it is really good for, in the final analysis, is singing its bold song into the faee of all that looks so powerful and yet is finally so hopeless. This is why those two women took heed of the risen Christ’s words there in a eemetery on that first Easter. They went baek to whate¥er they could diseem of the ehureh in that moment of time, resolved to repeat what Jesus told them to proclaim. They loved the ehureh for the simple reason that Jesus did and does, and so they went back to a discouraged and embattled collection of dispirited disciples and fairly preached it into renewed faithfulness and hope. This is our job too, even—no, especially—in rimes of discouragement.

    Notes لFrederick Buechner, A Room Called Remember (San Francisco: Harder and Ro w, 33 -32 م(984ل . 2 Fersonal correspondence with Dr. Brown. See also Sally A. Brown, “Preaching as spiritual Formation ,” Journalfor Preachers, XXI, no. 2 (Lent 1988): 26-30, where Dr. Brown argues for an communal /ecclesial understanding of Christian formation. 3 From a recent conversation and subse،tuent correspondence on this topic with Dr. Song-Mi Park, Assistant Professor of Did Testament at Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary. 4 Romans 8:24b-25 (NRSV). 5 Matthew 28:10b (NRSV). 6 Matthew 28:19. 7 Matthew 16:18■

    9 Matthew m:16a 10 Jack L. Stotts, A God to Glorify (Austin: Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary, 1996), 49-50. 11 1 am grateful for the investigative reporting of Sonia Smith’s article, “When Is a Church a Cult?” Texas Monthly (February 2014): 82ff.

  • Why are you crying?

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    Why Are You Crying?

    John 20:11-18

    Sam Wells

    St. ^rtin-in-the-Fields, London, United Kingdom

    1 wonder if you’ve ever looked into a deep, dark cave. It’s cold, it’s mysterious, it’s maybe a little damp, and there’s this little voice in your head that’s saying to you, “If I go down too far into it either there’ll· be something scary and angry down there that’ll get me, or maybe worse, there’ll be some kind of rock that will roll across the face of the cave and shut me in – and no one will hear my cries.” Mary Magdalene was looking into a cave like that on the first Easter morning. And it turned out there wem indeed some creatures in the dark cave. Two angels. So not your average tomb, then. The angels are pretty observant, mind you. They can see the state Mary’s in. They say to her, “Why are you crying?” You can toll these angels have never done a course in pastoral care and counselling because the first thing you learn in pastoral care and counselling is, “Never ask, ‘Why?’” “Why?” is a useless question. It’s threatening, unsupportive, paralyzing, and conversation-stopping. It’s the sort of thing a husband says. It’s almost certain to make the person cry all the more because if they could give a satisfactory answer, they probably wouldn’t be crying, Stupid. Mary, to her credit, doesn’t say, “That’s not a very helpful question. What kind of an angel are you?” She says,“They’ve taken away my Lord, and I don’t know where they’ve laid him.” Let’s put ourselves in Mary’s shoes for a moment and allow ourselves to be asked that question. “Why are you crying?” Why is Mary crying? Let’s hear her answer . “I’m crying because I’m experiencing horrifying loss, aching grief, and a huge hole where the love and hope and trust and joy of my life used to be. This man, this m ore-th-just-a-m an who was supposed to be laid in this tomb, turned my life from monochrome to technicolor, from a lonely violin to a crescendoing orchestra, from a limp and falling feather to a soaring eagle’s wing. I’mcrying because I’m staring into the horror of death, and death right now seems to be obliterating everything I want, everything I need, everything I know. I toel so powerless, so fragile, so alone.” But perhaps if we asked a more thoughtful question, we’d get an even bigger answer. “What’s going through your mind, Mary?” Then she might say, “I keep thinking of toe way they killed him. The nails, toe blood, toe jeering laughter, the noise, toe sneering, toe baying for blood, toe throwing of dice, toe cheering, toe way toe disciples all ran away, toe way ?ilate washed his hands, toe finger-pointing, toe lashing , toe spear piercing his side. Human beings can be so cruel, so mean, so violent, so stupid, so weak, so selfish, so treacherous. It’s not just toe death that makes me cry; it’s the sin.” And then maybe if we’d ask a deeper question, we’d get a bigger answer still. “Mary, what d’you think God makes of your tears?” I wonder if she’d say, “I think God’s crying too. That’s what makes my tears frei right. I frei I’m weeping with God’s tears. Who can bear to see God’s tears? I frei by letting myself cry I’m sharing in God’s tears, mingling my tears with the tears of the Father who’s grieving toe death of Jesus and mortified by toe depth of our sin. Somehow in these tears I feel


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    Fm alone with the aloneness 0 ؛God.” Here’s Mary, staring into the unknown, weeping. And she’s asked the question “Why are you erying?” And her answer is, beeause of death, beeause of sin, beeause God’s erying too. And that leads me to ask the same question of you on Easter morning as you look into the unknown. “Why are you erying?” Of eourse we’ve all got resistances to answering the question. We’ve erected a wall of privaey around us, we’ve draw ncurtain ofself-suffieiency, we’ve established ق demeanor of emotional steadiness. “I’m not crying,” we say. “I’m not the crying type.” But then we look at Mary as she has the courage to stare into the nothingness of the tomb, and we begin to touch the territory of those trembling tears. I’mcryingbecauselrealizemy life is an orchestrated denial of death,and someday I’m going to have to face the truth of my mortality. I’m crying because like Mary I’ve lost people who put the color in my rainbow and wind beneath my wings. I’m crying because I’ve been hurt and disappointed and betrayed, and I’m bleeding with pain about these things. But I’m also crying because I’ve been no angel myself, and I’ve done some things I can’t undo, and I’m part of some habits and systems and addictions I can’t extricate myself from, and I can’t bear to see the pain I’ve caused others. Fm crying because I want to have a faith that takes the grief away, but somehow I seem to find that being with God makes me cry more, not less. I’m crying because I’mjust overwhelmed.” Is that why you’re crying? Fet me tell you about one night when I was crying. It was Christmas Eve around 15 years ago. I was a young pastor. A few months earlier I’d been appointed to a church on the edge of town whose Sunday morning congregation was about 15. We started making plans for Christmas. We made a leaflet with a wise and witty Christmas message and a list of all the Christmas worship services on it. I insisted there should be a Midnight Communion. That was always the highlight of my Christmas growing up. No one in the congregation remembered ever going to church at midnight, but I still thought it was a great idea. I set the time for 11:30 p.m., December 24. We organized. We leafleted the whole neighborhood-more than 3,000 houses. 11 p.m. Christmas Eve came. No one there. 11:15… still no one there. 11:25… still just me, the bread, and the wine. 11:30… I tried so hard, so hard, to stop a tear beginning to roll down my eyelashes. Why was I crying? Because I’d tried so hard. Because for a moment I’d dared to hope. Because I felt I’d failed. Because I wondered if the church was dying. Because I felt humiliated. I heard a rustling noise. I looked at my watch. It was 11:32. The door opened. Into the church walked a man and a woman, maybe late forties. I’d never seen them before. “Is it just us?” they asked. “Fm afraid it is,” I replied, wondering if they were going to laugh at me. “Oh good,” foe woman said. “We waited outside in foe garden to see if anyone else would come, and when we thought we’d be the only ones, we walked in.” “How d’you mean?” I asked, gesturing for them to sit down. After all, who wants to be alone at midnight on Christmas Eve with a hopelessly underachieving pastor? “Well,” she said, “I guess you should know that Dave and I used to be married to other people until recently. There’s a lot of folk unhappy about us being together. We moved out here because we didn’t foel we could go to any of the downtown churehes. In fact we haven’t been to church at all for over a year. We were frightened to come tonight, but when we saw we’d be the only ones, we got foe courage to walk through foe door. Our lives are a mixture of love and shame. We want to begin again.”


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    I stared at them in siienee for a long time. It was a man and a woman in a garden. It was a story of death and fear and sin and shame and tears; and beginning and life and trust and change and love. It was midnight on Christmas Eve. But, through my tears, I was staring at the dawn of Easter Day. By the end of that night, I was still crying. But I was crying a different kind of tears. I was crying Easter tears. When Mary turns away from the tomb, having not got much out of the angels, she begins another eonversation, this time with a man she takes to be the gardener, but we realize that he is someone else. Jesus asks Mary the same gestion the angels just asked her. “Why are you crying?” He clearly hasn’t done the pastoral care and eounselling course either. And unless he hadn’t been paying attention, he must have heard the answer she gave to the angels. But Jesus adds a seeond question. “Whom are you looking for?” “Whom are you looking for?” Now that is a good question. That’s a good question to ask anyone, and it’s an especially good question to ask Mary right this minute. Because Mary’s obviously looking for Jesus. But who is Jesus? Well here’s the erueial point. The story has shown us who Jesus is. Remember why Mary was crying? Mary was erying beeause she was faeing her sense of loss in the faee of death, her sense of fra^lity and weakness and loneliness and poweriessness. This is who Jesus is. He’s the one who overcomes death and transforms the fraile, the weak, the lonely, and the powerless. Staring into the tomb, she began to realize whom she was looking for. But there’s more. Who is Jesus? Mary was crying because she’d seen how ghastly humankind can be; she’d witnessed brutality and horror and duplicity and killing and betrayal. This is who Jesus is. He’s toe one who dismantles sin, deflates enmity, heals cruelty, absorbs malice, forgives treachery. Staring into the tomb Mary begins to realize whom she is looking for. There’s still more. Who is Jesus? Mary was crying because she was shedding God’s tears, tears of sadness for God’s separation from us, from toe rebellious ereation . This is who Jesus is. He’s the one who reunites us with God. He’s toe one who blends our tears with God’s tears, he’s toe good shepherd who knows each one of us by name and gathers us into toe Eather’s sheepfold, he’s the true vine who grafts each one of us on as his branches. Staring into the tomb Mary begins to realize whom she is looking for. Then Jesus says one word. “Mary.” When you’ve been crying, what’s toe most helpful thing anyone can do? They can be silent with you, in wordless presence, to affirm toe value of your sorrow and toe truth of your tears. They can touch you, gently, respectfully, lovingly, to share your humanity and show you you’re not alone. And they can speak tenderly, just a word or two that makes you feel accompanied, received, understood. “Mary.” She’s crying, but she feels the sense of a companion with whom she will never again be alone, she senses toe touch of toe one who will never let her go, she hears her name like never before. “Mary.” Her eyes are opened. She’s looking into the face of the resurrected -lesus. And now, surely, she discovers a different kind of tears. She’s known what it means to be overwhelmed by loss, by sin,by toe absence of God. But now she’s crying more than ever, yet in a new way. She’s crying because, if Jesus has emerged from the tomb, that means he’s not been destroyed by toe grave, and she’s blinded by toe wonder of imagining what it’s like to live beyond death, to enjoy life forever, to put


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    aside fear and loss and grief and sorrow; and the tears are caseading down her cheeks and falling to the ground in fountains of joy. She’s crying hecause ىJesus is alive, that means he’s dismantled sin, and she’s swathed in a shower of tears in dreaming ofa world where enmity’s healed,hatred is transformed, cruelty’s turned to kindness, and anger’s displaced by mercy. She’s crying because if Jesus isﺎﻬﻬﻄﻨﻟآ §at her, that means he’s reunited us with God, and her disbelief is being washed away by a tidal wave of grace, and she’s in an ocean of glory with angels and archangels and saints and eherubim and all the company of heaven. These tears don’t seek the comfort of one person to share, to receive, to cherish, and to understand. These tears are infectious – they need to be taken to the whole world. These are the tears of baptism that are sent to refresh everyone; this is an overwhelming that’s destined to flood the whole creation with joy. Mary’s asking the whoic creation, “Why aren’t you crying?” Here are a man and a woman in a garden, the very picture that started the whole Bible, the very place where everything went wrong. And here again is this man and this woman at the very place where everything is put right again, but way beyond the imagination ofthat first man and woman, because here is not just the setting-right of human relations with one another, but here is the reunion between humanity, creation, and God. If that doesn’t make you cry with tears of joy, nothing ever will. $0 here’s my ؟uestion for you on Baster morning. Why are you crying? Are you looking into the tomb, overwhelmed by grief, by sin, by utter loneliness? Or are you looking into toe face of the risen Lord, overwhelmed by glory, by wonder, by joy? Whom are you looking for? The one who overcomes death, dismantles sin, and reunites you with God? Well, here’s toe good news of Easter. He’s looking at you, kid. Easter’s drenched in tears. But they’re tears of joy.

  • Lord, teach us to pray: wearing out God’s ear

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    Lord, Teach Us to Pray: Wearing out God’s Ear

    Luke 18:1-8

    Meg Peery McLaughlin

    Burke Presbyterian Church, Burke, Virginia

    Jesus told them a parable abcut their need t© pray. It’s hard t© imagine s©me©ne who doesn’t see any reason to pray, for that would be someone void of any hurt, any desire, any gratitude. I don’t know anyone like that. Certainly all of us at some point in our lives have had need to say, “Help me. Help me. Help me,” or “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”1 Jesus told toe disciples a parable about their need to pray and not lose heart. It’s toe losing heart that I get. For “when we go all the way down, our deepest problem wito prayer is that we lose heart.” ؛We’re puzzled at how long our prayers go unanswered , and that question eats away at toe edges of our hearts. You can only knock so long at a closed door before your knuckles get bloody. You can only listen to yourself speak into silence so long before you start to wonder if anyone is there.’If we are honest, if مam honest, we wonder if prayer matters, which makes us wonder if wc matter. And we just lose heart, $ ,٠Jesus tells us a parable, a story about ajudge and a widow. Let me do a little teaching with you here. In biblical times. judges were those responsible for giving people a fair hearing, making legitimate peace between one person and another. Weaker members of the community were dependent upon them and only them. There were no juries. A judge’s duty was to give justice, and toe justice was seen as God’s. $ ٠you better believe that judges knew toe Torah, toe scripture, hke the back of their hand. And the scripture, well, it is always talking about widows, for widows were toe most vulnerable among toe people. Time and time and time again toe Torah says things hke “toe Lord your God is a God of gods, who executes justice for the orphan and widow.”* Time and time and time again, toe Frophets demand things hke “seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for toe widow.” ؛All this is to say that we all, especially judges, as they were in a position to help, best be paying attention to widows. But toe parable says that the judge “neitherfeared God nor had respect for people.” This guy has gotten it ah wrong. He is wholly unsuited for his calling. It’s hke saying that there was a chef who did not know how to melt butter, ٢٠there was a lifeguard who could not swim. He’sjust plain rotten.And yet, this judge ends up doing toe right thing. He does the right thing—not for any noble reason, not because God demands it of him ٢٠that his job description requires it ٢٠even because he has a soft spot for this needy woman; he does toe right thing because he’s annoyed. .. bothered. This widow woman //’،٧١not give up ,׳she is wearing out this judge’s ear, filling up his inbox, stalking his house, refusing to let it be. The judge says, “I will grant her justice, so that she may not wear me out.” But what toe Greek says, literally, is, “I will grant her justice so she //’،٧١not strike me under the eye.” It’s language used in toe boxing arena.6 This judge does toe right thing because he doesn’t want to end up with a black eye. And what Jesus says is that


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    if this rotten judge, this seemingly soulless creaturey will do right by this widow, how much more will God do right by us? Do not lose heart, God will grant us justice; it’s inevitable. Just keep wearing out God’s ear and do not lose heart. I have early childhood memories of my dad asking me inane (questions when I asked him something that was inevitable. He’d say: “Does the sun shine? Does the moon beam?” He did it all the time. “D a a a d I’d say, “Of course the sun shines, of course the moon beams, but I’m asking you if you’ll read over my English paper when you finish dinner?” Nowadays he doesn’t even have to get past the word does, and I know the cadence , tone, and inflection that is coming. Will All Things Considered be on in his car radio at 4:30? Will he set out the breakfast cereal before he goes to bed? Does the sun shine? Will he drive out here when his grandchild is bom? Will he be willing to talk me through a tough day of ministry? Does the moon beam? This parable, I think, calls us back to that part of us that can say ofcourse God is listening, ofcourse God cares about the hurt of our hearts, ofcourse the God of goodness is at work among us to mend what is broken, right what is wrong, and draw closer the day God has indeed promised. Does the sun shine? Does the moon beam? This parable is intended to quell our fear and renew our faith. But there is more to say today about God and prayer and persistence, for parables are rarely one layered. They’re hard to exhaust. A number of years’ ago, I was at a conference in Montreat. It was a small conference, and the leadership was talking about the ?arable of fee ?rodigal Son. To get us into fee story, fee conferees were invited to stand in triads and“stand in the shoes” of one offeree characters: the Father, fee ?rodigal, or fee Elder brother. Each triad had to arrange themselves into a type of still life and just let fee role sink in for a few minutes of silence. It was an interesting practice of reading scripture. With today’s parable, I think I’ve always seen myself as fee nagging widow. Those are fee “shoes” I’ve stood in, for I ’ve tried to bother God. I’ve bothered God with my pleas: pleas for a child, pleas for peace if a child wasn’t in the cards. I’ve worn out God’s ear wife pleas for guidance when I’ve felt stuck and courage when I’ve felt scared and hope when I’ve felt hopeless. I’ve railed against God wife my anger at fee way fee world isn’t fair and fee way fee world isn’t nice and fee way fee world doesn’t make sense to me. I’ve raised my voice and sometimes even my fists when I felt like I wasn’t getting heard. I’ve told God, “I love you, but I’m mad at you. I am mad at you!”^ But to put my feet in the shoes of that rotten judge and to imagine that God is fee widow instead? Now that’s a reversal! If we stand this parable on its head and hear it as a testimony to the persistence of God, what would that mean for us? Might this parable speak to fee persistent, unrelenting, determined One who keeps knocking on our door, challenging us to respond, urging us to be the answers of our neighbors prayers?® If we think about it, God has, in fact, always been compassion-obsessed, justice-minded, mercy-driven. ?erhaps God, standing in widow’s shoes, will not stop clamoring for our attention , will not stop hounding until we come around right, ?erhaps your image of God doesn’t jive with that of an old woman who is insufferable enough to knock us in fee eye to get our attention, but for me, fee persistent, determined One is my hope. For


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    it means that God will not give up on even us. Let me say that again: it means that God will not give up on us. And that helps me not lose heart. Our ineessant God will not let us stay as those who “neither fear God nor have respeet for people. ״God will not allow us to get comfortable in foe unjust judge’s shoes, ?erhaps we’ll start listening beeause we don’t want to end up with a blaek eye ؛perhaps we’ll drag ourselves off our happy eouches because we’re tired of that insistent knock. Or, finally worn down—we’ll just flat give in and be the answer to someone else’s prayer. I’ll never forget one of our “Why Village Matters” moments. !’11 never forget Dr. John Hall, member of this church and salt of the earth guy. He stood up and said, “My name is Dr. John Hall and Thursday afternoon 1 got another obnoxious email from Mason Ormsby.” (!t took me a minute to realize he was really using foe word “obnoxious” in reference to another church member, right there in foe broad daylight of the sanctuary.) John told us that Mason’s email had indieated that there weren’t enough doctors for Saturday’s shift at foe Kansas City Free Health Clinie. John read that email and thought: “!am tired.” But Mason’s email said, “We’ll schedule some patients for you.” Good Lord, he was unrelenting! John went that Saturday, and he met a client named Mr. Tanakas who has lived in Kansas City for seven years on a green card. Mr. Tanakas was eomplaining about a problem of his wrists. John fumbled through foe man’s chart. There was no mention of wrists, but notes about tests run for A!DS, anemia, thyroid disease, hepatitis, leukemia—all of whieh turned out negative. No one had found anything wrong with this man. “You are thin.” John said. “That’s it, that’s it,” and Mr. Tanakas showed John his wrists. “Do you have digestive issues?” “No” “Do you vomit?”

    “Do you eat?” “No” Awkward, awkward pause. “Would you eat if you had food?” “Yes” “Do you have food?” “No” John figured out how to get Mr. Tanakas emergency food stamps and set him up to get into our Food Fantry that Monday. And John eharted foe first case of starvation he had ever diagnosed. John’s speeeh that morning eoncluded with a word of thanks to Mason Ormsby, who every single week sends out email reminders, ineessant rcminders . He said thanks to foe unrelenting Mason, and he sat down. ! wonder if a word ofthanks isn’t in order—a word of thanks to God who still has hope for us and in us, who loves us enough to elamor for our attention, who stands at our door and knoeks. Maybe today we’ll open foe door to our persistent God, who indeed hears our prayers and who makes the sun to shine and the moon to beam, and who will not let us lose heart.


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    Notes لAnne Lamott, Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith (Anchor Books, 1999). 2 Tom Long, “?raying without Losing Heart” (Sermon, October 7,2007). 3 Barbara Brown Taylor, “Bothering God” in Home By Another Way (Lanham, Maryland, Cowley ?ublications, 1999). 4 NRSV, Deuteronomy 10:17-18. 5 ،سIsaiah 1:17. 6 Alan Culpepper, Luke, The New Interpreter’s Bible Commentary Volume IX, ed. Leander Keck (Abingdon ?ress, 1996). 7 Used a movie clip in The Gathering: Robert Duvall in the movie The Apostle. 8 Bob Dunham, “Whose ?ersistence?” (Sermon, October 21,2007).