We finished looking at the letters to the seven churches during this morning's class, by looking at the three churches in chapter three. Several interesting points came up in our discussion.
Sardis (present-day Sart, a small village) was located on an important trade route. Among the ruins excavated there is the site of an early Christian church building, ironically next to a temple dedicated to Artemis. This church was said to have a good reputation among the believers in the Asia province, but it was dead inside. The few Christians in Sardis who had remained faithful were promised white garments. We talked today about how the color white in Revelation seems to have less to do with purity than with victory: "If you conquer, you will be clothed like them in white robes." (3:5)
To the church at Philadelphia, Christ identifies himself as holding the "key of David," in a direct reference to Isaiah 22:22, where the key to the house of David was given to Eliakim. Philadelphia joins Smyrna in being the two churches that receive no rebuke. We mentioned that the passage "I will keep you from the hour of trial that is coming on the whole world to test the inhabitants of the earth" is used as a proof text for those who favor a discreet period of Tribulation (with a capital "t") lasting seven years. The Philadelphia church will be spared from this eschatological tribulation because of its "patient endurance." I related about a couple I had known back in the late 1970s who was convinced that the church, as a whole, would be forced to endure this Great Tribulation (which they felt would last exactly seven years). This belief had caused them to decide not to bring children into the world. A child born to them back then would be in her/his 30s today.
The final letter, to Laodicea, is in many ways the most interesting. It is intriguing that letters to Colossae and Laodicea were composed at around the same time, but only the letter to the Colossians was accepted into the canon of the New Testament. The letter is mentioned in the final chapter of Colossians (4:13-16). Christ identifies himself as "the faithful and true witness," perhaps the new name mentioned in the letter to the Philadelphians; it is mentioned again in Revelation 19:11.
This is the only church to receive no commendation; rather, the rebuke is that the Laodicean church is "lukewarm." This condition was well-known to the people in this town, since we know that the water source for the city was in Hierapolis, several miles to the north. The water arrived in Laodicea in a tepid condition, and the city was known for its unpalatable water. It was also the site of an ancient medical school, attached to the temple of Asclepius, where a special salve was developed for the eyes -- making the exhortation in 3:18 more meaningful.
The final part of this letter contains the familiar passage about Jesus standing at the door and knocking. I recall (as do many of you, I'm sure) a song from childhood about this, along with a painting from my Sunday school room. The painting, my teachers told me, showed Jesus knocking on a door that had no latch, because the door must be opened from the inside by those who hear his voice.
Now the door to heaven is standing open, and we will begin to look at the visions that occupy the remainder of the book. But how good it is to look first at these letters that contain within them so many of the problems that face the church today.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Letters to the Seven Churches
We are slightly more than halfway through the seven letters in chapters two and three of Revelation. These chapters are usually considered the least "sexy" portion of the book -- since they contain no visions of beasts or horsemen, I suppose. But they are full of great insights into the problems churches faced in the first century and continue to face today. Here are some tidbits from our discussion so far. Each mini-letter contains (with a couple of interesting exceptions) the same elements: a description of Christ, a commendation (except for Laodicea), a rebuke (except for Smyrna and Philadelphia), an exhortation, and a promise.
Ephesus -- familiar from Acts and Paul's letter, a major seaport, with the temple of Artemis, one of the seven wonders of the ancient world. The Nicolaitans will reappear in the letter to Pergamum, where the church was a bit more accepting of their teachings than in Ephesus. The promise here involves a reference to the tree of life, mentioned both at the beginning of the Bible (Genesis 2) and at its end (Revelation 22).
Smyrna -- one of the two churches given no rebuke. The enigmatic "ten days" of extreme trial has caused many to speculate. We concluded that it probably referred to a period of time that was limited but not necessarily exactly ten days. The reward promised to Smyrna is a crown of life, one of several crowns mentioned in Revelation.
Pergamum -- an important city for several reasons. A paper was developed there that was named for the city, "pergamena" in Greek and Latin, from which we derive the English word "parchment." Pergamum was also a center for the cultic worship of the Roman emperor, and it contained a temple to Zeus. The false teachings here were related to Balaam of Numbers 22-24 and encouraged spiritual infidelity ("fornication"). The Nicolaitans were mentioned as well. The church at Pergamum tended to tolerate these teachings, and that forms their rebuke. The promise involves a new name written on a "white stone" -- quite a mystery. In class we mentioned how this promise involved an intimate, personal relationship to the Savior: details of the relationship were known only to the individual and Christ.
Thyatira -- mentioned obliquely in Acts 16, when one of Paul's Philippian converts was Lydia, a dealer in purple cloth from Thyatira. It was a small city but an important commercial center. The description of Christ is taken directly from Daniel 10. Here the false teacher is called Jezebel (Elijah's nemesis from 1 Kings), and her false teachings are described in the same terms as those of the "Balaam" of Pergamum. Both cities are exhorted to "repent" -- that is, turn away from these teachings and toward the true gospel. The promise, from Psalm 2, is a share in Christ's rule.
We have tended to get through two letters in one session, although we will try to squeeze the final three into next week's class. In the meantime, I would love to hear insights from any of you about this section of the book.
Ephesus -- familiar from Acts and Paul's letter, a major seaport, with the temple of Artemis, one of the seven wonders of the ancient world. The Nicolaitans will reappear in the letter to Pergamum, where the church was a bit more accepting of their teachings than in Ephesus. The promise here involves a reference to the tree of life, mentioned both at the beginning of the Bible (Genesis 2) and at its end (Revelation 22).
Smyrna -- one of the two churches given no rebuke. The enigmatic "ten days" of extreme trial has caused many to speculate. We concluded that it probably referred to a period of time that was limited but not necessarily exactly ten days. The reward promised to Smyrna is a crown of life, one of several crowns mentioned in Revelation.
Pergamum -- an important city for several reasons. A paper was developed there that was named for the city, "pergamena" in Greek and Latin, from which we derive the English word "parchment." Pergamum was also a center for the cultic worship of the Roman emperor, and it contained a temple to Zeus. The false teachings here were related to Balaam of Numbers 22-24 and encouraged spiritual infidelity ("fornication"). The Nicolaitans were mentioned as well. The church at Pergamum tended to tolerate these teachings, and that forms their rebuke. The promise involves a new name written on a "white stone" -- quite a mystery. In class we mentioned how this promise involved an intimate, personal relationship to the Savior: details of the relationship were known only to the individual and Christ.
Thyatira -- mentioned obliquely in Acts 16, when one of Paul's Philippian converts was Lydia, a dealer in purple cloth from Thyatira. It was a small city but an important commercial center. The description of Christ is taken directly from Daniel 10. Here the false teacher is called Jezebel (Elijah's nemesis from 1 Kings), and her false teachings are described in the same terms as those of the "Balaam" of Pergamum. Both cities are exhorted to "repent" -- that is, turn away from these teachings and toward the true gospel. The promise, from Psalm 2, is a share in Christ's rule.
We have tended to get through two letters in one session, although we will try to squeeze the final three into next week's class. In the meantime, I would love to hear insights from any of you about this section of the book.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Posts Will Resume
I have been missing the blog, especially since my new class on Revelation is in its third week. But my production of Stephen Schwartz's Children of Eden closed yesterday, and time has been at a premium for me during the past month. Consider this a teaser.
In Revelation, we began with a survey of the various methods scholars have used to interpret the book over the years, looked at the first vision, and then got started on the brief letters to the seven churches of the Asian province. So far, we have considered the letters to Ephesus and Smyrna.
More later today...
In Revelation, we began with a survey of the various methods scholars have used to interpret the book over the years, looked at the first vision, and then got started on the brief letters to the seven churches of the Asian province. So far, we have considered the letters to Ephesus and Smyrna.
More later today...
Friday, September 4, 2009
Why We Should Not Prejudge Our Continued Usefulness
I write a monthly column for our church's newsletter. The name of the column is "Music and Liturgy," and usually I write about things related to these topics. This month, however, I was inspired to include a great story I had heard on a pastor's podcast. He told the story as if it were in his own words, but I traced the story (with exact wording) to a book by Franklin Graham (Billy Graham's son). Our assembly is full of folks on the north side of seventy who are, nevertheless, powerhouses of activity. As we, as a congregation, are evaluating our continuing role in the propagation of the Kingdom of God, I thought the story was particularly appropriate.
***
We at Central Church are in the midst of evaluating what we are to do. Churches often go through life cycles similar to people, and sometimes congregations can feel old, tired, and unmotivated. Recently I ran across the story of a pastor who was in a similar situation. Have you ever heard of Charles McCoy?
McCoy was pastoring a Baptist church in Oyster Bay, New York, when at age seventy-two he was mandated by his denomination to retire. A lifelong bachelor, he had cared for his mother for as long as she lived. In his spare time he had earned seven university degrees, including two Ph.D.’s—one from Dartmouth, the other from Columbia. But now, at age seventy-two, he was being forced to retire from the ministry.
He was depressed. “I just lay on my bed thinking that my life’s over,” he stated, “and I haven’t really done anything yet. I’ve been pastor of this church for so many years and nobody really wants me much—what have I done for Christ? I’ve spent an awful lot of time working for degrees, but what does that count for? I haven’t won very many to the Lord.”
A week later he met a Christian pastor from India, and on impulse asked him to preach in his church. After the service the Indian brother asked him matter-of-factly to return the favor. Since he had preached for McCoy, would McCoy come to India and preach for him? McCoy told him that he was going to have to retire and move to a home for the elderly down in Florida. But the Indian insisted, informing McCoy that where he came from, people respected a man when his hair turns white. Would he come?
McCoy thought and prayed about it and decided he would. The members of his church were aghast. Dire predictions were made. The young chairman of his board of deacons summed up the attitude of the congregation when he asked, “What if you die in India?” I love McCoy’s answer. He told him he reckoned “it’s just as close to heaven from there as it is from here.” He sold most of his belongings, put what was left in a trunk, and booked a one-way passage to India—his first trip ever out of the United States.
When he arrived in Bombay, he discovered to his horror that his trunk was lost. All he had were the clothes on his back, his wallet, his passport, and the address of missionaries in Bombay he had clipped from a missionary magazine when he left. He asked for directions, got on a streetcar and headed for their house. When he got there, he discovered that while he was on the streetcar his wallet and passport had been stolen. He went to the missionaries, who welcomed him in but told him that the man who had invited him to come to India was still in the U.S.A. and would probably remain there indefinitely.
The missionaries asked him what he was going to do now. Unperturbed, McCoy told them he had come to preach and that he would try to make an appointment with the mayor of Bombay. They warned him that the mayor was very busy and important and that in all the years they had been missionaries there, they had never succeeded in getting an appointment with him. Nevertheless, McCoy set out for the mayor’s office the next day—and he got in! When the mayor saw McCoy’s business card, listing all his degrees, he reasoned that McCoy must not be merely a Christian pastor, but someone much more important. Not only did he get an appointment, but the mayor held a tea in his honor, attended by all of the big officials in Bombay. Old Dr. McCoy was able to preach to these leaders for half an hour. Among them was the director of India’s West Point, the National Defense Academy at Poona. He was so impressed at what he heard that he invited McCoy to preach there.
Thus was launched, at age seventy-two, a brand new, sixteen-year ministry for Dr. Charles McCoy. Until he died at age eighty-eight, this dauntless old man circled the globe preaching the gospel. There is a church in Calcutta today because of his preaching and a thriving band of Christians in Hong Kong because of his faithful ministry. He never had more than enough money to get him to the next place he was to go. He died one afternoon at a hotel in Calcutta, resting for a meeting at which he was to preach that evening. He had indeed found himself as close to heaven there as he would have been at his church in Oyster Bay, New York, or in a retirement home in Florida. It was incongruous—an old man, waiting to die at age seventy-two, leaving everything he had ever known and preaching around the world. That’s funny! But funnier still was the surprise of God’s grace, completing the incongruity of this old man. May we all know this quality of humor in our lives as we wait upon God!
***
We at Central Church are in the midst of evaluating what we are to do. Churches often go through life cycles similar to people, and sometimes congregations can feel old, tired, and unmotivated. Recently I ran across the story of a pastor who was in a similar situation. Have you ever heard of Charles McCoy?
McCoy was pastoring a Baptist church in Oyster Bay, New York, when at age seventy-two he was mandated by his denomination to retire. A lifelong bachelor, he had cared for his mother for as long as she lived. In his spare time he had earned seven university degrees, including two Ph.D.’s—one from Dartmouth, the other from Columbia. But now, at age seventy-two, he was being forced to retire from the ministry.
He was depressed. “I just lay on my bed thinking that my life’s over,” he stated, “and I haven’t really done anything yet. I’ve been pastor of this church for so many years and nobody really wants me much—what have I done for Christ? I’ve spent an awful lot of time working for degrees, but what does that count for? I haven’t won very many to the Lord.”
A week later he met a Christian pastor from India, and on impulse asked him to preach in his church. After the service the Indian brother asked him matter-of-factly to return the favor. Since he had preached for McCoy, would McCoy come to India and preach for him? McCoy told him that he was going to have to retire and move to a home for the elderly down in Florida. But the Indian insisted, informing McCoy that where he came from, people respected a man when his hair turns white. Would he come?
McCoy thought and prayed about it and decided he would. The members of his church were aghast. Dire predictions were made. The young chairman of his board of deacons summed up the attitude of the congregation when he asked, “What if you die in India?” I love McCoy’s answer. He told him he reckoned “it’s just as close to heaven from there as it is from here.” He sold most of his belongings, put what was left in a trunk, and booked a one-way passage to India—his first trip ever out of the United States.
When he arrived in Bombay, he discovered to his horror that his trunk was lost. All he had were the clothes on his back, his wallet, his passport, and the address of missionaries in Bombay he had clipped from a missionary magazine when he left. He asked for directions, got on a streetcar and headed for their house. When he got there, he discovered that while he was on the streetcar his wallet and passport had been stolen. He went to the missionaries, who welcomed him in but told him that the man who had invited him to come to India was still in the U.S.A. and would probably remain there indefinitely.
The missionaries asked him what he was going to do now. Unperturbed, McCoy told them he had come to preach and that he would try to make an appointment with the mayor of Bombay. They warned him that the mayor was very busy and important and that in all the years they had been missionaries there, they had never succeeded in getting an appointment with him. Nevertheless, McCoy set out for the mayor’s office the next day—and he got in! When the mayor saw McCoy’s business card, listing all his degrees, he reasoned that McCoy must not be merely a Christian pastor, but someone much more important. Not only did he get an appointment, but the mayor held a tea in his honor, attended by all of the big officials in Bombay. Old Dr. McCoy was able to preach to these leaders for half an hour. Among them was the director of India’s West Point, the National Defense Academy at Poona. He was so impressed at what he heard that he invited McCoy to preach there.
Thus was launched, at age seventy-two, a brand new, sixteen-year ministry for Dr. Charles McCoy. Until he died at age eighty-eight, this dauntless old man circled the globe preaching the gospel. There is a church in Calcutta today because of his preaching and a thriving band of Christians in Hong Kong because of his faithful ministry. He never had more than enough money to get him to the next place he was to go. He died one afternoon at a hotel in Calcutta, resting for a meeting at which he was to preach that evening. He had indeed found himself as close to heaven there as he would have been at his church in Oyster Bay, New York, or in a retirement home in Florida. It was incongruous—an old man, waiting to die at age seventy-two, leaving everything he had ever known and preaching around the world. That’s funny! But funnier still was the surprise of God’s grace, completing the incongruity of this old man. May we all know this quality of humor in our lives as we wait upon God!
Monday, August 31, 2009
An Ending and a Beginning
My class finished its long study of the Gospel of John yesterday morning and will begin another epic study -- this time the Revelation of John -- on September 13. (September 6, our church is holding a brunch in which all of the SS classes present their upcoming curricula.)
As we looked at the final chapter of John, the class was struck by the manner in which Peter was allowed a chance to "redo" pivotal moments in his life here. Peter and a small group of disciples with him are in Galilee, and they decide to return to fishing. Was it a way to take a few hours and focus on a task, thus putting out of their minds the confusion facing them in light of recent events? Was Peter concerned about supporting his family? (We know he was married, because Jesus healed his mother-in-law.) At any rate, after a fruitless night of fishing, Jesus appeared on the shore of Lake Galilee as the sun rose and directed Peter and the others to lower the net on the starboard side of the boat. This reminds one of the story from Luke's gospel (Luke 5:1-11), when Jesus first encountered Peter and the other fishermen. In the Luke story, Jesus uses Peter's boat as a makeshift pulpit and then directs the men to lower their nets in deeper water. Simon (as he is called here) responds in a typically "Peterian" manner: "Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so,I will let down the nets." Their little boat cannot hold all the fish they caught.
In John's post-resurrection story, neither Peter nor the others is recorded as protesting at all. This time, the size of the catch is specifically recorded. (The total is 153 fish -- an odd number [no pun intended] that may simply be a detail remembered by an eyewitness.) When Peter realizes (because John tells him) that the "stranger on the shore" is Jesus, he dives into the water and swims to the beach. The class thought of how Peter had attempted to walk on water and had sunk into the sea in an earlier account. Here the point seems to be speed: Peter wants to be near Jesus as quickly as possible.
The disciples share a simple breakfast with Jesus, in which he "took the bread and gave it to them." In the one gospel which has no account of an upper room meal, here is yet another instance with clear Eucharistic implications. As with the disciples in Luke 24, Jesus was "made known to them in the breaking of the bread." I am reminded of the beautiful James Montgomery poem:
Shepherd of souls, refresh and bless
thy chosen pilgrim flock
with manna in the wilderness,
with water from the rock.
We would not live by bread alone,
but by thy word of grace,
in strength of which we travel on
to our abiding place.
Be known to us in breaking bread,
and do not then depart;
Savior, abide with us, and spread
thy table in our heart.
Lord, sup with us in love divine,
thy Body and thy Blood,
that living bread, that heavenly wine,
be our immortal food.
***
And then, after breakfast, Jesus asks Peter the famous question. As in John 1:42, Jesus calls Peter by his birth name, Simon, son of John, and he asks him, "Do you love me more than these?" I have heard many bible teachers attempting to make much of the different Greek words used here, but I confess I can't make sense of this. (The same goes for the slight variations in Jesus' commands to Peter.) As I see it, the main thrust is to give Peter a chance to go back. He isn't Peter here, he is Simon, and he has a chance to tell Jesus three times that his love is real, thus canceling the three times he denied even knowing him. It is the ultimate gesture of forgiveness.
Then comes yet another instance of Peter's pride. He wants to know what will become of the "disciple whom Jesus loved." After the resurrection, in this gospel, Peter and John seem to be competing. They run a foot race to get to the tomb first; John wins the race, but Peter is the first in the tomb. In the boat, it is John who first says, "It is the Lord," but Peter swims to shore ahead of John and the others. And now Peter, walking with Jesus, notices John and asks Jesus what will become of him. The Master says, in effect, "That is none of your business."
The final sentence in the Gospel of John is both brilliant and succinct: "There are also many other things that Jesus did; if every one of them were written down, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written."
As we looked at the final chapter of John, the class was struck by the manner in which Peter was allowed a chance to "redo" pivotal moments in his life here. Peter and a small group of disciples with him are in Galilee, and they decide to return to fishing. Was it a way to take a few hours and focus on a task, thus putting out of their minds the confusion facing them in light of recent events? Was Peter concerned about supporting his family? (We know he was married, because Jesus healed his mother-in-law.) At any rate, after a fruitless night of fishing, Jesus appeared on the shore of Lake Galilee as the sun rose and directed Peter and the others to lower the net on the starboard side of the boat. This reminds one of the story from Luke's gospel (Luke 5:1-11), when Jesus first encountered Peter and the other fishermen. In the Luke story, Jesus uses Peter's boat as a makeshift pulpit and then directs the men to lower their nets in deeper water. Simon (as he is called here) responds in a typically "Peterian" manner: "Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so,I will let down the nets." Their little boat cannot hold all the fish they caught.
In John's post-resurrection story, neither Peter nor the others is recorded as protesting at all. This time, the size of the catch is specifically recorded. (The total is 153 fish -- an odd number [no pun intended] that may simply be a detail remembered by an eyewitness.) When Peter realizes (because John tells him) that the "stranger on the shore" is Jesus, he dives into the water and swims to the beach. The class thought of how Peter had attempted to walk on water and had sunk into the sea in an earlier account. Here the point seems to be speed: Peter wants to be near Jesus as quickly as possible.
The disciples share a simple breakfast with Jesus, in which he "took the bread and gave it to them." In the one gospel which has no account of an upper room meal, here is yet another instance with clear Eucharistic implications. As with the disciples in Luke 24, Jesus was "made known to them in the breaking of the bread." I am reminded of the beautiful James Montgomery poem:
Shepherd of souls, refresh and bless
thy chosen pilgrim flock
with manna in the wilderness,
with water from the rock.
We would not live by bread alone,
but by thy word of grace,
in strength of which we travel on
to our abiding place.
Be known to us in breaking bread,
and do not then depart;
Savior, abide with us, and spread
thy table in our heart.
Lord, sup with us in love divine,
thy Body and thy Blood,
that living bread, that heavenly wine,
be our immortal food.
***
And then, after breakfast, Jesus asks Peter the famous question. As in John 1:42, Jesus calls Peter by his birth name, Simon, son of John, and he asks him, "Do you love me more than these?" I have heard many bible teachers attempting to make much of the different Greek words used here, but I confess I can't make sense of this. (The same goes for the slight variations in Jesus' commands to Peter.) As I see it, the main thrust is to give Peter a chance to go back. He isn't Peter here, he is Simon, and he has a chance to tell Jesus three times that his love is real, thus canceling the three times he denied even knowing him. It is the ultimate gesture of forgiveness.
Then comes yet another instance of Peter's pride. He wants to know what will become of the "disciple whom Jesus loved." After the resurrection, in this gospel, Peter and John seem to be competing. They run a foot race to get to the tomb first; John wins the race, but Peter is the first in the tomb. In the boat, it is John who first says, "It is the Lord," but Peter swims to shore ahead of John and the others. And now Peter, walking with Jesus, notices John and asks Jesus what will become of him. The Master says, in effect, "That is none of your business."
The final sentence in the Gospel of John is both brilliant and succinct: "There are also many other things that Jesus did; if every one of them were written down, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written."
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Turn, Turn, Turn
We have recently entered into a relationship with a "intentional interim" pastor at our church. (The term "intentional interim" implies an interim relationship between pastor and congregation with an intent to discover the church's mission and purpose. In other words, the church will not call a permanently installed pastor until the congregation has come to a conclusion about this.) Our pastor's sermons have been departing in recent weeks from the Revised Common Lectionary in favor of special "themes" each Sunday. This week, the key word is "time." The Old Testament lesson is Ecclesiastes 3:1-11 -- the source for the wonderful song recorded by the Byrds, "Turn, Turn, Turn."
I remember a time before time shifting. (No pun intended.) Back in the days when Johnny Carson's Tonight Show was still ninety minutes long, it was followed by Tomorrow with Tom Snyder. Tom chain smoked and interviewed interesting people for an hour, lasting until 1 a.m. in my time zone. One evening in 1975, Snyder interviewed John Lennon, and I desperately wanted to see that interview. I knew that I would fall asleep before midnight, no matter how hard I tried, and so I set an alarm clock to wake me up at 11:55. Back then, that was my only option.
Gradually, with the invention of the VCR, we all learned that we could control when we watched something on television. Now ATT is plugging a DVR on which you can record up to four separate programs at once and then, as you are watching, pause a program in one room and begin it at the same spot in another. Meanwhile, we can stream things on our computers and smart phones and download them as podcasts on our iPods. In short, we are accustomed to being in complete control of our time -- at least as it concerns when we watch things on television.
We also are less content to do one thing at a time. Students in my college classes often have their laptops open, typing instead of writing notes as I lecture, while they surf the Internet, write an email, and --perhaps -- order shoes. In our general faculty meetings, we are told that our students are experts in multitasking, and we are not to take it personally. States and municipalities are wrestling with the control of cell phone use while driving. Many people even attempt to answer email and send text messages behind the wheel. This has all happened so quickly that it is hard to realize that it wasn't that long ago when all of this was impossible.
Human beings have always been impatient. That is one of the points of Ecclesiastes 3: things happen when they should happen, not when we want them to happen. The technological explosion has only heightened our impatience, not created it. As Christians, the struggle we face when we pray is that we are temporal beings addressing an extratemporal God. I think this is one aspect of Jesus' time on earth that is often neglected. Philippians 2 (my favorite passage of scripture) speaks of Christ's self-emptying (the Greek term is "kenosis") -- shedding the rights of privileges of being God. One of these was extratemporality. In our studies on John, my class has been struck by the number of times Jesus spoke of time (again, no pun intended): "My time has not yet come," he said in John 7, for instance. This is the manner in which he answered his mother at the wedding in Cana. And then, in Gethsemene, "the hour has come."
In our prayer, as in our life, Paul's words to the church in Philippi -- "let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus" -- should affect our sense of time as much as it affects our other attitudes. God, the ultimate time shifter, became Jesus, who lived Ecclesiastes 3: "To everything -- turn, turn, turn -- there is a season -- turn, turn, turn..."
I remember a time before time shifting. (No pun intended.) Back in the days when Johnny Carson's Tonight Show was still ninety minutes long, it was followed by Tomorrow with Tom Snyder. Tom chain smoked and interviewed interesting people for an hour, lasting until 1 a.m. in my time zone. One evening in 1975, Snyder interviewed John Lennon, and I desperately wanted to see that interview. I knew that I would fall asleep before midnight, no matter how hard I tried, and so I set an alarm clock to wake me up at 11:55. Back then, that was my only option.
Gradually, with the invention of the VCR, we all learned that we could control when we watched something on television. Now ATT is plugging a DVR on which you can record up to four separate programs at once and then, as you are watching, pause a program in one room and begin it at the same spot in another. Meanwhile, we can stream things on our computers and smart phones and download them as podcasts on our iPods. In short, we are accustomed to being in complete control of our time -- at least as it concerns when we watch things on television.
We also are less content to do one thing at a time. Students in my college classes often have their laptops open, typing instead of writing notes as I lecture, while they surf the Internet, write an email, and --perhaps -- order shoes. In our general faculty meetings, we are told that our students are experts in multitasking, and we are not to take it personally. States and municipalities are wrestling with the control of cell phone use while driving. Many people even attempt to answer email and send text messages behind the wheel. This has all happened so quickly that it is hard to realize that it wasn't that long ago when all of this was impossible.
Human beings have always been impatient. That is one of the points of Ecclesiastes 3: things happen when they should happen, not when we want them to happen. The technological explosion has only heightened our impatience, not created it. As Christians, the struggle we face when we pray is that we are temporal beings addressing an extratemporal God. I think this is one aspect of Jesus' time on earth that is often neglected. Philippians 2 (my favorite passage of scripture) speaks of Christ's self-emptying (the Greek term is "kenosis") -- shedding the rights of privileges of being God. One of these was extratemporality. In our studies on John, my class has been struck by the number of times Jesus spoke of time (again, no pun intended): "My time has not yet come," he said in John 7, for instance. This is the manner in which he answered his mother at the wedding in Cana. And then, in Gethsemene, "the hour has come."
In our prayer, as in our life, Paul's words to the church in Philippi -- "let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus" -- should affect our sense of time as much as it affects our other attitudes. God, the ultimate time shifter, became Jesus, who lived Ecclesiastes 3: "To everything -- turn, turn, turn -- there is a season -- turn, turn, turn..."
Monday, August 17, 2009
The Mother of Jesus
One of the interesting points that came up during our study of the Gospel of John was that Jesus' mother is not named in this gospel. Her sister (also named Mary) is listed in the account of the women who were present at the crucifixion, and this Mary's children, James and Joses, are included -- perhaps to pinpoint which of the Marys this actually is. It is not at all implausible that more than one daughter in a family would be named Mary, since this name was so common among first-century Jews. (It was the Caitlyn of its day.)
I find it intriguing that John, who is code-named "the apostle whom Jesus loved" in the gospel that bears his name, is the apostle entrusted with the care of Jesus' mother, and yet it is this gospel in which she is not named. Could this have been because John and his followers (including those who likely compiled the gospel) had ceased to think of her as anything but Mother? The lack of a name might also suggest that Mary herself contributed or added to John's gospel -- in the account of the miracle at the wedding at Cana, for instance -- with details from her own perspective. In this case, "the mother of Jesus" and "the apostle whom Jesus loved" would have both functioned as code.
The other question that arose in our discussion -- one that often comes up in any study of Jesus' life -- was what happened to Joseph? I mentioned that the fact that Mary seemed to be involved in the life of the adult Jesus by herself suggests that she was a widow. Jesus' siblings do not seem to have become followers of the Way (as the Christian movement was originally named) until later. (We know that Jesus' brother James was mentioned as a leader in the Jerusalem church in the Acts of the Apostles.)
All of this is not exactly worthy of a Dan Brown novel, but it is fascinating nevertheless.
I find it intriguing that John, who is code-named "the apostle whom Jesus loved" in the gospel that bears his name, is the apostle entrusted with the care of Jesus' mother, and yet it is this gospel in which she is not named. Could this have been because John and his followers (including those who likely compiled the gospel) had ceased to think of her as anything but Mother? The lack of a name might also suggest that Mary herself contributed or added to John's gospel -- in the account of the miracle at the wedding at Cana, for instance -- with details from her own perspective. In this case, "the mother of Jesus" and "the apostle whom Jesus loved" would have both functioned as code.
The other question that arose in our discussion -- one that often comes up in any study of Jesus' life -- was what happened to Joseph? I mentioned that the fact that Mary seemed to be involved in the life of the adult Jesus by herself suggests that she was a widow. Jesus' siblings do not seem to have become followers of the Way (as the Christian movement was originally named) until later. (We know that Jesus' brother James was mentioned as a leader in the Jerusalem church in the Acts of the Apostles.)
All of this is not exactly worthy of a Dan Brown novel, but it is fascinating nevertheless.
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