Mark 1, Ending/Beginning

“The beginning of the good news about Jesus the Messiah.” (Mark 1:1)

I don’t recall ever reading the Gospels front to back, in canonical order. Maybe I have. I just don’t remember. Anyway, moving from the end of Matthew’s gospel to the beginning of Mark’s gospel is abrupt. We move from the crucified and resurrected Jesus back to John the Baptist preparing the way for Jesus’ ministry. No birth narrative here in Mark, so it’s not a total reset. There is, however, wisdom in this juxtaposition of ending and beginning, abrupt as it is. There is wisdom in the canon, pedagogical wisdom, just as there is wisdom in the seasons of the church calendar. Advent, Christmas, Lent, Easter, Pentecost,—the long season of ordinary time,—Christ the King Sunday, and then a new beginning.

We come to an end, and make a new beginning. We “begin again at the beginning,” as Karl Barth wrote. “And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age,” in every beginning and every ending, until all is renewed at the end of the age. Jesus is always reminding us to remember, always calling us to obey, always offering new beginnings, always telling us anew the old, old story. If we didn’t get it the first time around (And who among us did? Did the disciples?), here it is again in Mark. Then Luke. Then John.

For me, 61 Advents, Christmases, Lents, Easters, Pentecosts, and Christ the King Sundays, 61 years of hearing the story…and still not enough. I still need new beginnings. I still need to hear it again.

The gospel is ever good and ever news. It is news that stays news.* The good news about Jesus the Messiah is eternally contemporary.**

So, right after the ending of Matthew’s gospel, we have the new beginning of Mark’s gospel, “the good news about Jesus the Messiah.” An ending. A beginning.

As it was in the beginning, is now, and will be forever. Amen.

Who is Jesus? Let’s go over it again, from the beginning.

Where is Jesus? Once more, here is where I am.

What then shall we do? How many times do I have to tell you? Sixty-one times? Sixty one times seven?

____________________________________

* Cribbed this phrase from Ezra Pound. The quote: “Literature is news that stays news.”

** “Jesus: The Eternal Contemporary” was the theme used by Herb Ham when he returned to Oklahoma Baptist University for Christian Focus Week during my senior year (1973-74). I think it was that year. 

On Your Mark(s)...

Today's reading is the beginning two chapters of the book of Mark. And let me tell you - Mark does not mess around. In the book of Mark, Jesus shoots out of the gate and never looks back on a non-stop journey toward Jerusalem. Unlike Matthew, there is no genealogy, no birth of Jesus, no shepherds, wise-men, or angels. It's all business. And I love it.

Mark cuts right to the chase in verse 1 by saying, "The beginning of the good news about Jesus the Messiah..." And from there, the first two chapters proceed with story after story of Jesus providing good news to anyone and everyone he comes across. He gives a group of outcasts a new sense of purpose when he calls his disciples. He masters evil as he drives out demons. He controls the physical properties of the universe as he heals the lame. He shows the ever-present, relational nature of God as he prays in solitude and experiences the temptation of Satan in the wilderness. And Mark ends this section with Jesus subverting the Law and showing the burden-less peace of Jesus through a new teaching on the Sabbath. Good news for all.

I love that Jesus consistently meets people exactly where they are and finds ways of being the gospel to them contextually. His incarnational nature shines forth in this way. He has relinquished his heavenly authority and willingly become human; and through this sacrifice and surrender of power, Jesus has become the perfect model for us of how we might live. We are called to be incarnational for the world; to have our bodies broken and our blood spilled for the sake of the other. May we have the courage and strength to join Jesus on this journey toward Jerusalem, a way of good news for the world, but one that might just lead to our own demise. Thank God we know the ending...that life proceeds from death.

End of Matthew: "Simply Jesus"

At the end of Matthew's gospel, a couple of videos of N.T. Wright on "Simply Jesus."

On to Mark's gospel!

Matthew 17 "The Transfiguration"

A student who had fallen asleep in one of Karl Barth's theology classes awoke to the professor looking directly at him, saying, "Answer the question please."

The drowsy student answered, "Jesus?"

"Exactly!" replied Barth.

Probably not a factual story, but definitely a true story. Barth's theology is so "Christo-centric"—that is, Christ is so central to his theology—that it seems every question that matters in theology can be answered by looking or listening to Jesus.

I agree with Barth. And the story of 'The Transfiguration' related in Matthew 17: 1-9 is one of the reasons I agree with him.

In the transfiguration story, Jesus shines like the sun as he converses with Moses and Elijah on a mountaintop in the presence of Peter, James, and John. Peter, in his usual manner, immediately starts talking to Jesus about how good this is and how he'd like to build three booths (one for Jesus, one for Moses, and one for Elijah) if Jesus would like him to do that.

My favorite translation of what happens next is from Eugene Peterson's The Message: "While [Peter] was going on like this, babbling, a light-radiant cloud enveloped them, and sounding from deep in the cloud a voice: 'This is my Son, marked by my love, focus of my delight. Listen to him.'"

Peter is so busy, so brash (and so wrong!) in his babbling that God himself has to interrupt him, basically saying, "Peter! Shut up and listen! Listen to my Son." Loose translation.

The cloud and the voice are fearsome, and the disciples fall down and hide their faces. Jesus then touches them, tells them not to be afraid, and "when they opened their eyes and looked around all they saw was Jesus, only Jesus." Only Jesus. Then they go down from the mountain.

What is Peter wrong about? It seems he wants to make Jesus first among equals by offering to make three booths. Jesus is not first among equals with Moses (the law) and Elijah (the prophets); Jesus is God's one and only beloved Son, the one above all others to whom we are commanded to listen. The law and the prophets, Moses and Elijah, point to Jesus, and what Jesus says and does with the law and the prophets—how he interprets them, how he lives them—is the final Word. The voice did not say, "Listen to them." It said, "Listen to him." Moses and Elijah disappear*. Jesus only remains. Only Jesus.

And not even one booth for Jesus on the mountain is necessary, because Jesus is not staying on the mountain. This is the second thing that Peter seems to be wrong about. Jesus does not come seeking worshippers on mountaintops; he comes seeking followers as he goes down the mountain preaching, teaching, and healing. He seeks people who will follow him to Jerusalem and to the cross, a very different mountain and a very different kind of worship.

So, who is Jesus? Emphatically Lord of all, including Moses and Elijah. He's the one and only one to whom we are to listen. If the law seems to disagree with Jesus, listen to Jesus. If the prophets seem to conflict with Jesus, listen to Jesus. If any Old Testament historical violence tempts you to justify violence as necessary, look to Jesus. If any interpretation of any scripture does not seem Christ-like, listen to Jesus. If any New Testament scripture, whether by Peter, James, John (or Paul!), seems contrary to what Jesus taught, listen to Jesus. As Jesus himself will later say in Matthew, "All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me." Teach them "to obey all that I have commanded you." Not we; I.

Jesus has already practiced this authority in the "You have heard it said...but I say to you" passages of the Sermon on the mount. The Transfiguration confirms his right to do so.

Where is Jesus? Emphatically not on the mountaintop being worshiped. He's come down the mountain to go to Jerusalem to confront the powers and be crucified.

What then shall we do? If Jesus didn't want Peter to build a booth on the mountaintop to stay and worship, should we? Jesus has twice quoted Hosea 6:6 ("I desire mercy, and not sacrifice.") in Matthew's gospel. If we practice worship (sacrifice) without following Jesus (practicing mercy), we are as wrong as Peter. This is the second time Peter has tried to keep Jesus from Jerusalem and the cross. Twice wrong...so far. If we want to worship others along side Jesus, if we want to worship Jesus rather than follow him, are we any better than Peter? If we would be better followers, we must listen to Jesus alone, and hear his call to obey all that he has commanded us.

Only Jesus.

"In many and various ways God spoke of old to our fathers by the prophets; but in these last days he has spoken to us by a Son, whom he appointed the heir of all things, through whom also he created the world." (Hebrews 1:1)

*Compare this disappearance of Elijah to John 3:22-36, in which John the Baptist (Elijah, if you will, in Matthew 17:9-13) says, "He must increase, but I must decrease."

Edna St. Vincent Millay poem for Lent...on her birthday

I quoted Edna St. Vincent Millay in my previous post. Thought about adding a link to this poem, but decided to copy it here instead. I think it is a great poem for Lent.

Conscientious Objector

I shall die, but
that is all that I shall do for Death.
I hear him leading his horse out of the stall;
I hear the clatter on the barn-floor.
He is in haste; he has business in Cuba,
business in the Balkans, many calls to make this morning.
But I will not hold the bridle
while he clinches the girth.
And he may mount by himself:
I will not give him a leg up.

Though he flick my shoulders with his whip,
I will not tell him which way the fox ran.
With his hoof on my breast, I will not tell him where
the black boy hides in the swamp.
I shall die, but that is all that I shall do for Death;
I am not on his pay-roll.

I will not tell him the whereabout of my friends
nor of my enemies either.
Though he promise me much,
I will not map him the route to any man's door.
Am I a spy in the land of the living,
that I should deliver men to Death?
Brother, the password and the plans of our city
are safe with me; never through me Shall you be overcome. 

Edna St. Vincent Millay

Matthew 15-16 "The Canaanite Woman"

“A person who publishes a [blog] willfully appears before the populace with his pants down. If it is a good [blog] nothing can hurt him. If it is a bad [blog] nothing can help him.”- Poet Edna St. Vincent Millay, Born on this Day 1892

Matthew 15:21-28

Who is this Jesus? Is he going to answer this woman's plea? Is he being rude? Wait...did he just call her a dog? What?

I've always been embarrassed by Jesus' behavior toward the Canaanite woman, but I'm more embarrassed by pious attempts to excuse or sanctify Jesus' behavior. For example, take Calvin...please.

Calvin has two problems with this story. First, Jesus is silent. That's not the problem, though. This is the problem: How could this woman have faith and pray if she has never heard the Word of God proclaimed? As Calvin writes in his commentary, "This seems to be contrary to the nature of faith and prayer as Paul describes it in Rom. 10.14—that no-one can pray aright unless the Word of God has led the way." How does Calvin resolve this apparent contradiction? Jesus has been silent, but only outwardly silent. Calvin: "We must note that although He then suppressed His words, He spoke inwardly to the woman's mind and so this secret instinct stood in place of the external preaching." Really. Calvin posits telepathy to excuse Jesus' rude silence and to harmonize this story with Paul. That's embarrassing.

Second, when Jesus does speak, it's not nice talk. Calvin acknowledges that it at least appears this way.* What possible reason could Jesus have had for being so condescendingly rude? It's all for the woman's  sake, of course. "Christ's motive...was not to quench the woman's faith but rather to sharpen her zeal and kindle her fervor." "He was chiefly concerned with making a trial of the woman's faith." "And she thinks the door is closed on her, not to drive her away altogether, but rather to make her try faith to get through the cracks in the wood."

OK. Not as bad as telepathy. But it's still an attempt to justify or excuse some plainly derogatory remarks. "Well, you know, I'm sorry I was so hard on you, but, you know, it was for your own good. Your faith is stronger for it."

"Oh. Wow. Thanks. Now, about these splinters...."

I don't know. It's such an unsatisfactory apologetic. And neither Matthew nor Mark offer apology when they tell the story. Why do we feel compelled to defend our precious idea of Jesus? Why do I? Because  that's what I'm going to do next.

Where is Jesus? He's in the region of Tyre and Sidon: cosmopolitan, urban seaports, crossroads of the empire, filled with many cultures, many faiths, and no faith, far from Judea and Jerusalem. He's on the edge of his experience, on the edge where the outsiders meet the insiders.

And just here he is confronted by a Canaanite woman—an ultimate type of outsider/Gentile—who calls him Lord, Son of David, and, on that basis, pleas for mercy for herself, healing for her demon-possessed daughter.

Who is Jesus? This is a defining moment. Is he the Son-of-David Messiah that the Jews expect? Is he going to take up the battle against Israel's ancient enemies, including the hated Canaanites who Israel drove out of the land of Canaan, the promised land? Or is he someone else, a different kind of Messiah? Is he only sent to the lost sheep of Israel? Or is he sent for the whole world? Is the bread, his eucharistic body, only for the children of Israel, or is if for all the needy dogs of the world, even for all creation?

Silence. Pondering silence. Prayerful silence. Who am I? Father, who am I?

And when he speaks it's almost as if he were thinking/praying aloud. "I was only sent to the lost sheep of Israel, right, Father? It's not right to take the children's bread and toss it to the dogs, is it, Father?" And, wonder of wonders, the Father speaks to him with the voice of the Canaanite woman! "Even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master's table."

What then did Jesus do? You know what he did. He granted her plea for mercy and broke the boundary between insiders and outsiders. He praised her faith. He healed her daughter.

What then shall we do? We shall listen to the Canaanite women in our world, for God may speak to us  through them, calling us to break boundaries between insiders and outsiders. We'll be in good company if we do.

*And Calvin should know about not nice talk. Earlier in his commentary on this passage he unleashes on "...that dog Servetus" who "was absurd as well as ungodly...." Unlike the Canaanite woman, however, Servetus could not continue the conversation because the absurd and ungodly dog had been burned at the stake. Notice Calvin speaks of Servetus in the past tense.

Matthew 18: A Total Misreading of the Text

One section from our reading today is one of the more popular passages in all of the gospels. Matthew 18:15-20 has long been used by the church as a model for church discipline. The way the passage is typically read, understood, and practiced is that if someone is in sin, you go to them individually to try to correct their behavior. If they do not listen, you then go to them with two or three people. If they still will not listen to your advice and correction, you take their story before the whole church. And finally, if they still will not modify their sinful ways, they are to be expelled from your community, a practice traditionally known as excommunication.

But this is not how the actual biblical passage reads and is a poor misunderstanding of Jesus' words. Jesus says, "...if he refuses to listen even to the church, treat him as you would a pagan or a tax collector." While the church has often interpreted this passage as the license and liberty to excommunicate the unrepentant sinner, this is actually the EXACT OPPOSITE of Jesus' words. Jesus is not asking us to break communion with pagans and tax collectors, because these are the very people with whom Jesus frequently communed. He constantly befriended and loved those who the world loved to hate. He constantly communed with all the 'wrong' people. He constantly loved the unlovable.

"Treat him as you would a pagan or a tax collector"

With these challenging and engaging words, Jesus is inviting his followers to actively engage and commune with people who are resisting the way of Jesus. He's not asking us to break these relationships and solely commune with those that are like us. He is inviting us to push further into community and fellowship with those who badly need the good news of Jesus. May we have the courage to not resist and avoid relationships with the other, those different than us, and our enemies.

Matthew 13-14 "The Sound of Silence"

Back to the memory faults (intended) for this one. Here's a link to the fellas the way I remember them. Good audio, but out of sync. I still want to play guitar like Paul Simon.

The Sound of Silence

Simon & Garfunkel

Hello darkness, my old friend,
I've come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping,
Left its seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence.

In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone.
'Neath the halo of a street lamp,
I turned my collar to the cold and damp,
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night,
And touched the sound of silence.

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more.
People talking without speaking.
People hearing without listening.
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence.

"Fools" said I, "You do not know
Silence like a cancer grows.
Hear my words that I might teach you,
Take my arms that I might reach out you."
But my words like silent raindrops fell,
And echoed
In the wells of silence.

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made.
And the sign flashed out its warning,
In the words that it was forming.
And the sign said, “The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls.
And whispered in the sounds of silence."

Reading Jesus quoting Isaiah in Matthew 13:13-17 brought to mind this Simon & Garfunkel favorite. Scriptural themes run through it:

• visions
• seeds
• dreams
• light in darkness (albeit neon, which we find is an idol in the final stanza)
• silence
• people talking without speaking
• hearing without listening
• pleas to hear and touch
• no one daring to disturb the silence (with apologies, no doubt, to T.S. Eliot)
• prophets/false prophets
• false gods/idols

It is so like us to hear without listening, to praise and worship Jesus without obeying him or practicing what he preaches, to fill our ears with great music and fine preaching, without “understanding with our hearts.” (13:15) To listen in scripture is to obey, not just to hear and then go on about our daily idolatry as the people in Paul Simon’s song do. To listen is to hear and do, a theme that runs throughout Matthew, clearly stated in 7:21-28.

It is so like us to be echoes in the wells of silence. Whoever has ears, let them hear: The sound of silence is hearing without doing; it is our silence in response to Jesus' call if we hear and turn away.

Matthew 13-14: Hidden and Sought

One of today's chapters, Matthew 13, contains a slew of cryptic stories from Jesus. This section of Matthew's gospel is full of ambiguous parables, usually followed with a statement from Jesus encouraging his disciples to have "eyes to see and ears to hear" his message. Jesus is intentionally mysterious and vague, and yet he expects his followers to work hard in understanding his message. He doesn't make it easy on them.

And he doesn't make it easy on us. While the good news of Jesus can be boiled down to loving God and loving others, in practice, this is incredibly challenging. The Kingdom of God just isn't easy to comprehend and be a part of. It's like a seed that dies or gets choked out almost every time it's planted. It's like a hidden treasure that we must sell everything to acquire. It starts as small as a mustard seed but grows to the size of a tree. It's like yeast that works its way into every crack and crevice of our lives. But it's definitely not obvious, and it's definitely not easy to ascertain.

The challenge for us, as contemporary followers of Christ, is to always be on the lookout for the Kingdom of God. It won't always be easy to spot, but if we have eyes to see and ears to hear, we will begin to notice the subtle and simple, yet profound ways that God is active in the world, ushering the good news of redemption and restoration in to a world that has so often separated itself from the way and will of God.

Matthew 10-12

Initial thoughts, mostly on chapter 10....

Who is Jesus? As he is the blessed one who blesses us, here he is the sent one who sends us.

Where is Jesus? He's where he was sent.

What then shall we do? Go where he sends us, as he sends us, and do what he tells us to do—just as he went where he was sent, as he was sent, and did what his Father told him to do.

He sends us to the lost ones as he was sent to the lost ones. He sends us poor, as he was poor. He sends us to bless as he blessed us. He sends us to preach, teach, and heal as he preached, taught, and healed. He sends us to give freely as we have freely received. He sends us as sheep amidst wolves as he was a lamb among the wolves of this world. He fearlessly sends us and we are to go without fear as he went without fear.

The church is not gathered in, huddled in fear; the church is sent out, generous and fearless. As Jesus is.

Matthew 8-9

We were blessed by the preacher who practiced what he preached.

That line from Lucinda Williams captures the essence of chapters 8 and 9. (See my first post on Matthew 5-7 for Lucinda's song.) Jesus is the preacher who practiced what he preached.

Jesus ended his Sermon in chapter 7 with a caution that hearing demands action, words call forth deeds. To call Jesus 'Lord' without doing the will of the Father is to take Jesus' name in vain. We may consider ourselves insiders based on our confession, but we may find ourselves outside the kingdom of heaven based upon our deeds. This is a theme that Matthew's Jesus will return to again and again.

In chapters 8-9 Jesus practices what he preached in chapters 5-7. He not only teaches and preaches as one with authority, but he practices that authority in blessing those who are outside the traditional understanding of 'blessed.' Jesus—himself blessed as poor in spirit, as mourner, as meek or gentle, hungering and thirsting after God's righteousness, as merciful, as pure in heart, as peacemaker, and as persecuted and reviled—now goes about being a blessing to other outsiders. He was blessed to be a blessing.

The cultural understanding of 'blessed' goes something like this: The way things are is the way they were meant to be, the way God ordained them to be.  The wealthy, healthy, and powerful insiders deserve to be so, else they wouldn't be wealthy, healthy, and powerful. The poor, sick, and powerless—the outsiders—deserve to be so or else they wouldn't be poor, sick, and powerless. God is just. Those who deserve to be blessed are blessed and those who do not are not blessed.

Jesus sees this understanding of justice as broken, as unjust, as sin. In these two chapters he goes to the outsiders—lepers, a Roman centurion, women (Peter's mom and the woman with the issue of blood—who is both unclean and a woman, twice removed from the insiders), demon-possessed people, sick people, paralyzed people, tax collectors, sinners, dead people, blind people, mute people—and heals them (restores them to physical and social and religious and community health). He declares their faith great. He helps them. He blesses them.

As a result, he runs into resistance from insiders who are invested in the status quo, both the economic status quo (the Gadarene swineherd community) and the religious status quo (represented here by the Pharisees). These insiders cannot imagine a God who would bless those who don't deserve it.

So, who is Jesus? He is the one who goes about teaching, proclaiming the kingdom, and healing. He is the one who has compassion on the crowds of outsiders, the one who practices authority over demons, illness, death, and nature. He is the one who embodies the Beatitudes of chapter 5, the one who does the will of the Father.

Where is Jesus? He's with sinners, outsiders, losers.

What then shall we do? We shall do the will of the Father as outlined in chapters 5-7. We shall act on the words we heard Jesus preach in the Sermon. We shall go about, seeking out sinners, outsiders, and losers, not just waiting and expecting them to find us. We shall heal and restore. We shall follow the preacher who practiced what he preached.

Matthew 5-7 (cont.) (again)

In his commentary on Matthew, Dale Bruner writes about how Dispensationalists have blunted the sharply radical call of the Sermon on the Mount by claiming that the ethic described there is only applicable to a future Dispensation (or a future time) in which Christ returns and establishes his Kingdom. In other words, the Sermon on the Mount is not practical for living in this current Dispensation, so we are not expected to behave according to the impractical demands to love our enemies, do good to those who persecute us, turn the other cheek, forgive as we are forgiven, etc.

There is, however, another way of approaching the Sermon. Here's Dietrich Bonhoeffer, from The Cost of Discipleship:

"Humanly speaking, it is possible to understand the Sermon on the Mount in a thousand different ways. But Jesus knows only one possibility: simple surrender and obedience—not intrepreting or applying it, but doing and obeying it. That is the only way to hear his words. He does not mean for us to discuss it as an ideal. He really means for us to get on with it."

 And here's Soren Kierkegaard, from I don't know where:

The matter is quite simple. The Bible is very easy to understand. But we Christians are a bunch of scheming swindlers. We pretend to be unable to understand it because we know very well that the minute we understand we are obliged to act accordingly. Take any words in the New Testament and forget everything except pledging yourself to act accordingly. My God, you will say, if I do that my whole life will be ruined. Herein lies the real place of Christian scholarship. Christian scholarship is the Church’s prodigious invention to defend itself against the Bible, to ensure that we can continue to be good Christians without the Bible coming too close. Dreadful it is to fall into the hands of the living God. Yes, it is even dreadful to be alone with the New Testament.

What then are we to do? Spend some dreadful time alone with the New Testament this Lenten Season. Then get on with it.

Matthew 5-7 (cont.)

Funny where you sometimes find biblical commentary. Reading a review of Look to the Land by Lord Northbourne this morning in the online version of The Englewood Review of Books and came upon this:

His two agricultural rules are based not only on advanced agricultural theory, but on a more fundamental theological principle: “give and you shall receive.” “Love can express itself in many ways, but if it is genuine it means giving – not of gifts but of self” (113). One must be willing to sacrifice self by looking to land, with all the toil and difficulty that entails, for the sake of personal and communal wholeness.  Even as Axis planes were dropping bombs on London, James took comfort in the power of the virtues of farming to heal and restore human life. He wrote: “Death cannot be overcome with his own weapons, be they bullet or knife or poison, but only by the cultivation of the good in life” (61)

 "Death cannot be overcome with his own weapons...."

That's the Sermon on the Mount.

Matthew 5-7

This is impossible. No, we can do it. But, how?

I'm not talking about living the Sermon on the Mount; I'm just talking about writing about it. Oh, man.

I was going to write about what it means to be blessed. But...

Let me start with two links. (I know...that's kind of like punting on first down.) Come back later. It may get better. I'm not sure though, because Lucinda Williams nails it. So...

First, a link to the lyrics of Lucinda Williams's song, "Blessed." Open the lyrics in another tab and then watch the video below.

 

Let me just add one lyric: "We are blessed by the guitar players who finish this song."

Can you add any blessed lyrics?

Matthew 3-4

Matthew 3-4

If, by killing one person, you could rid the world of evil, would you take up the sword?

Jesus, who has just passed through the baptismal waters of the Jordan River and been declared God’s beloved Son by descending Spirit-dove and by heavenly voice, is now spirited away to the wilderness to be tested by the devil. (Because that’s what the Spirit does to God's beloved children, right?) He fasted forty days and nights, and it is from his forty-day fast that we derive the forty days of Lent, a season of penitence and fasting.

Much (very much) has been written about the three temptations recorded in Matthew and Luke, and the temptations are very important in understanding who Jesus is and what his mission is. But I want to suggest an unrecorded temptation that may also help us understand and appreciate who Jesus is and what he learned in the wilderness.

Here’s the set up. Jesus and the devil are alone together (Is that an oxymoron?) in the wilderness. No one watching. No one to see. Jesus is tired and hungry, but he’s still God’s Son. He has power to command demons and the devil himself as he demonstrates at the end of the story. He’ll spend much of the rest of the gospels casting out demons in a seemingly constant battle against the prince of darkness and the rulers of this world. Don’t you think that he was tempted to get it over with, to cast the devil and his demons out of this world right here at the beginning and finish it? Maybe call in the twelve legions of angels he mentions later in the garden? Or Angel Team Six? Or maybe an angel drone strike?

But, no. Why not?

In John Gardner’s 1980 novel, Freddy’s Book, a sixteenth century Scandinavian named Lars-Goren kills the devil. And it makes no difference. The novel closes:

“Now the red of the sky was fading. In Russia, the tsar, with ice on his eyelashes, was declaring war on Poland. ‘Little do they dream,’ he said, ‘what horrors they’ve unleashed on themselves, daring to think lightly of the tsar!’ All around him, his courtiers bowed humbly, their palms and fingertips touching as if for prayer.”*

This is what Jesus knew. He knew that violence does not cast out violence. He knew that killing does not end killing. He knew that destroying a person, even the devil himself, is just another manifestation of the evil that one is attempting to eradicate. He knew that his Father willed for him another path, the path of self-sacrificial love of enemies. And he was the faithfully obedient, beloved Son, showing us the Way, the way of the cross.

What then shall we do? Shall we take up the sword, or lay it down? Even when we think we can kill just the right person to make the world a better place, what then shall we faithful and obedient followers of Jesus do? Shall we take up the sword—or take up the cross?

(If you want to explore the agony of this decision for a very committed Christian in the face of seemingly unmitigated evil, read how Dietrich Bonhoeffer thought about joining the plot to assassinate Hitler. Biographies abound.**)

*John Gardner. Freddy's Book (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1980), p. 246.

**Here are some Dietrich Bonhoeffer biographies:
Ferdinand Schlingensiepen. Dietrich Bonhoeffer 1906-1945: Martyr, Thinker, Man of Resistance. 2010.
Eric Metaxas. Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy: A Righteous Gentile vs. the Third Reich. 2010.
Mary Bosanquet. The Life and Death of Dietrich Bonhoeffer. 1968.
Renate Wind. Dietrich Bonhoeffer: A Spoke in the Wheel. 1990.
Edwin Robertson. The Shame and the Sacrifice: The Life and Martyrdom of Dietrich Bonhoeffer. 1988.
Eberhard Bethge. Dietrich Bonhoeffer: A Biography. (First published in 1967, I think. Revised English translation published by Fortress, 2000.)
Two novels based on Bonhoeffer's life:
Paul Barz. I Am Bonhoeffer: A Credible Life. 2008.
Denise Giardina. Saints and Villains. 1998.

A Call To Trust

Jesus is smart. I know, I know - tons of insight in that sentence. But Jesus really does understand humanity well. In our passage today, the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus spends some words speaking about money (that we cannot serve both Money and God) and then immediately follows this section with an encouragement to not worry. It's as if he knew what we might really worry about in life. And he was right...at least for me.

As I was reading Jesus' beautiful words about not worrying because God even takes care of the birds of the air and the lillies of the field, I found myself reflecting on my own daily worries. My wife and I are in the beginning stages of buying our first home and I have already begun to fret about how we will manage this feat financially.

How much can we afford to spend? How much of a down payment do we need? Can we really afford to buy a house? How much will our mortgage be? How will we afford to pay our mortgage while also paying my student loans?

You get the idea. I'm beginning to freak out.

But Jesus' words are really helpful today. They are calming and reassuring. I can so easily get caught up in a world of fret, uncertainty, and doubt, when Jesus is calling us to a life of trust. He is calling us to live in today and to let tomorrow worry about itself. He is not calling us to naivete and a lack of preparation, but instead, to a calm assurance that all will be fine. Regardless of what happens, God will be there beside us, shepherding us through good times and bad. I needed this calm assurance today. I needed the peace of Christ. Thanks be to God.

Just A Few Questions...

Our readings for the day, the third and fourth chapters of Matthew, are chock full of content about which we could spend countless hours, energy, and words unpacking. But for today, I will simply ask a few questions...
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Where is heaven?

Why do we normally insist that the kingdom of heaven is somewhere "out there" when the first proclamation about Jesus, and the message of Jesus' first sermon, is that the kingdom of heaven has come near?

What does it mean and how does it affect our lives if heaven is "here" and "near" rather than "there" and "far"?

Day 1: A Lot of Dudes, An Unexpected Dude, & The New Exodus

As Gary and I document our thoughts on the gospel texts over the next 40 days, the style of my writing will undoubtedly vary from day to day. Sometimes I will write a quick synopsis of the day's readings. Sometimes I will choose one particular verse, passage, or section to focus on. And sometimes, like today, I will record a number of short, quick bullet-point-like thoughts on different parts of the text. Ok...enough intro...let's get to it!

A Lot of Dudes

I've read and befriended too many feminist and liberation theologians throughout my life to be able to read through the genealogy of Jesus and not note the small number of women included in this list. Now I realize that this was a patriarchal society that did not make much space for a woman's voice, but still, that's a lot of dudes in that list. Our current church culture is getting better at listening to women and respecting them as leaders, but I would still encourage us to honor the wisdom, strength, and capabilities of the women around us and to fight for them to have increasing opportunities to lead and be vocal in the church.

An Unexpected Dude

Speaking of dudes, however, there is one guy who shows up in the genealogy of Jesus who you would typically not expect to be named. That man is Uriah (he shows up in Matthew 1:6). Uriah was Bathsheba's husband when King David lusted over her, committed adultery with her, and then had Uriah killed to cover up their adulterous love child. Scandalous!

But oddly, the writer of Matthew, a Jew, does not leave Uriah out of the story of Israel, even though he is not in the lineage of Jesus. We are often quick to gloss over or omit our shortcomings, but the writer, here, does not allow us to do that. He forces us to own this dark moment of our past. He makes us face it head on. We must learn how to move on from our mistakes and give ourselves grace, without forgetting or trivializing our past. We must learn how to learn from our shortcomings.

The New Exodus

For years I've heard scholars talk about Jesus as the "New Moses" and his movement as the "New Exodus," but, despite reading this text in Matthew hundreds of times, I've never noticed how Matthew has already begun to frame the story of Jesus as the "New Exodus" (Matthew 2:14-15). The Exodus in the Old Testament is the chief framing story for the people of Israel, and here, Jesus is already being revealed as the "New Moses." Joseph and Mary are forced into Egypt and metaphorically enslaved and imprisoned there until Herod dies. So when they come 'out of Egypt' and return to their land, it is easy to see how Jesus is poised to deliver his people into the "New Promised Land," the Kingdom of God.

Matt 1-2

Intro

Thinking about a way to enter this conversation with the gospels during Lent, I recalled the following three questions which some scholars have discerned as the big questions which shaped Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s theology and life. *

1. Who is Jesus?

2. Where is Jesus?

3. What then shall we do?

I think I’ll reflect on those questions as I listen to each of the gospel texts this year. They are big questions, and shelves sag under the weight of the pages written about them. But this is a blog, not a systematic theology.

Matthew 1-2

A few years ago I set out to teach the Gospel According to Matthew to a college group and asked them to read the first chapter for our first meeting. One of the young women in the group asked if we could skip the begats, as in “Abraham begat Isaac, and Isaac begat Jacob, and Jacob begat Judah and his brothers,” etc. A reasonable request. When, for example, was the last time you heard a Christmas sermon on Matthew 1:1-17? Can’t remember one myself.

Too bad. Because the genealogy of Jesus is good stuff. It shows a great deal about who Jesus is. And he’s a subversive little baby.

He starts out as the perfect Hebrew: son of David, son of Abraham. But his perfect patriarchal lineage is interrupted by the inclusion of four women: Tamar (a seducer and adulterer), Rahab (harlot of Jericho), Ruth (a Moabite), and Bathsheba (stolen wife of the murdered Uriah the Hittite). This sweet, little Christ child, just by his genealogy, subverts the racial barriers between Jew and Gentile, subverts the patriarchal barriers, and subverts the barriers between saints and sinners. Racial, sexual, and religious barriers all fall when this child with this lineage is declared “Emmanuel.”

And that’s not to mention unwed Mary and the subversion of the natural order by this miraculous conception. Or Joseph’s subversion of legal righteousness by his choosing not to divorce her. Highly irregular.

It is an altogether subversive birth of a King, don’t you think? In fact, one of the few normal responses in the story is Herod the king’s imperial order to murder children in an effort to nip this subversion in the bud. Political refugees, collateral damage in the name of homeland security, weeping mothers—normalcy.

From the beginning—the genesis—of Jesus’ story we are taught that in Jesus, all racial, sexual, and religious barriers are subverted. And we are taught that the reaction of the kings and rulers of this world will be violent.

What then are we to do? We are to regard racial, sexual, and religious barriers as the genealogy regards them, knowing that God (and, as we shall see, Jesus) will not be bound by any of them. We are to practice mercy and forgiveness over our legal rights, as Joseph did with Mary. We are to care for unwed mothers, for who knows what child they bear. We are to care for the ones that the rulers of this world displace and damage in their murderous efforts to maintain the status quo. And we are to be forewarned that we will encounter violent resistance to our message and our actions. 

Come to think of it, that sounds a lot like Dietrich Bonhoeffer's story. That’s enough for now, I think.**

*Andrew Root. Revisiting Relational Youth Ministry: From a Strategy of Influence to a Theology of Incarnation (Downers Grove: IVP Books, 2007), p.82 and footnote.

**From the beginning I need to acknowledge my debt to F. Dale Bruner’s commentary on Matthew. It is simply one of the best commentaries I have ever read. At the same time I need to absolve him for any of my heterodox opinions. OK?