Archive - April, 2010

Jesus as God: What Difference Does It Make?

I really appreciate all the good push-back so many of you gave me last week when I went nutso about Jesus as a (Jewish) man. Believe it or not, I actually listen to the things people say when they disagree with me (well, except for that one guy I blocked, but we’ll leave him aside for the time being).

In that spirit, I want to ask for your feedback to this real, not rhetorical, question: What difference does high Christology make for the narrative of Matthew, Mark, or Luke (your choice)? This is, to my estimation, essentially the same as asking what difference the church’s more developed confessions about Jesus makes for reading the Gospels. But you’re welcome to correct this as well.

In the comments last week, I was helpfully prodded by Mike Gorman to ponder whether I needed to reconsider my position: that what I’m affirming is good, but perhaps I need to stop denying what I deny. There are two things keeping me where I am right now:

(1) Once the human element is recognized in the passages often brought out as indications of divinity (e.g., the healing and forgiving of the paralytic), there isn’t much exegetical reason to affirm the kind of divine christology that we find in John, for example (Rodrigo is challenging me on this in our exegetical disagreements).

But also…

(2) I find tremendous pay-off in the story for recognizing Jesus as a particular kind of human, but almost none for recognizing a high Christology. This is in some contrast to John, where high Christology is the point all over the place.

So I’m asking for help on point 2: what about Mark’s (or Mt’s or Lk’s) story is made more clear, powerful, comprehensible, etc. if we start to see those as stories about, in some sense, “Jesus as Israel’s God”?

Bring it.

Christian Sexuality? (part 1 of 2)

Since putting up a couple of posts dealing with sex (the Ben Roethlisberger case and the article on women and pornography in the recent Christianity Today) I’ve had some opportunities to think and talk a bit more about the problems with sexuality in American culture and what a Christian alternative might look like.

The first thing that comes to mind is that Christians are too minimalist when it comes to sex. It seems that the only thing(s) we have to say is that sex is for marriage and that you should marry only x type of person (e.g.: Christian, opposite gender, etc.).

Once upon a time I was candidating for a job at a church where most of the people were single young professionals. I preached, using illustrations about sex/ how we think about sex a few times. Some of the feedback I got was, “Doesn’t he know we’re all single? Why talk that much about sex?” To which my reply was something along the lines of, “The rest of the world you inhabit is not waiting until you get married to form your expectations and desires concerning sex. The “renewing of our minds” should start long before pre-marital counseling.

But the other, more pervasive thought I had was that most of our thoughts about marriage and sex are insufficiently Christian. And by this I mean what I always try to mean when I level such critiques here on my blog: that the story of Jesus life, death, and resurrection insufficiently shapes our understanding of what loving neighbor looks like when said neighbor is a person toward whom we feel (or might be tempted to feel) some sort of sexual attraction.

Put differently: is there a positive, Christian framework of sexuality that might push us toward not only the gold-metal platform of “abstinence before marriage” but also heartfelt faithfulness within marriage, fidelity to our marriage vows, heartfelt revulsion toward pornography, and effectual opposition to sex trafficking?

Yes, I believe there is. It begins with the common Christian starting point of Ephesians 5: “Love your wives as Christ loved the church,” but recognizes this as part of a larger “narrative spirituality of the cross“: a cross-shaped calling that stories all of the Christian life.

More on this tomorrow.

The Kingdom and the Glory (pt 2)

If the reign of Jesus is indirectly juxtaposed to that of Herod by means of the disciples, the contrast is more direct when Jesus comes back on the scene (Mark 6:30ff.).

Immediately after we hear of Herod’s debauched party and its affiliation with John the Baptist’s beheading, the disciples return to Jesus and he takes them off on their own to rest and eat. But arriving at what should have been a secluded spot, Jesus looks at the crowd that had run there ahead of him.

He has pity on them because they are like sheep without a shepherd.

The OT echoes of Israel being “like sheep without a shepherd” embrace various kinds of leaders–and reflects the danger of the people being without a prophet like Moses to lead them out and bring them in (Numbers 27:17) or without a king (1 Kings 22).

Two things are going on here at once. On the once hand, we’re being told that “King” Herod is no king at all (and, in fact, we’ll learn later that the Pharisees are no leaders at all, either, but that’s not as clear here). We’ve just seen Israel’s “shepherd” at work–the people have no one to lead them out and bring them in.

On the level of the narrative, we know that the people are kingless, shepherdless, because they are not following Jesus, but rather running ahead of him. Jesus’ call is to “follow,” at at several key junctures in the narrative, we are made aware that things are somewhat askew because people are running ahead of Jesus rather than following. (See also Peter’s leading Jesus aside to rebuke him after the first passion prediction.)

But Jesus responds to the shepherdless people.

As the prophet like Moses type of shepherd, he teaches the people in the wilderness. Then, in striking contrast to the death-feast of Herod, Jesus sets a life-giving feast in the wilderness. In contrast to the great birthday banquet with its indulgence, sensuality, and death, Jesus sees to it that the people in the midst of nothingness are filled to overflowing.

The Lord Jesus is their shepherd.
He ensures that the people shall not want.
He makes them to lie down in green pastures.
He leads his people upon still waters? Well, not quite. But that’s another problem for another day.

But the reign of God has come near. And it is not the reign of God through Herod. Nor is the reign of God through the teachers of the Law. It is the reign of God enacted through Jesus the teacher, the good shepherd, the prophet like Moses.

The Kingdom and the Glory

Mark 6 is one of the most magnificent chapters in the NT. Mark invites us to read the series of stories as mutually interpretive: from the sandwiching of Herod Antipas’ dinner party between the sending and return of the disciples; to the return of the disciples bleeding into the feeding of the 5,000, to the water-walking episode that ends with the disciples flummoxed about Jesus’ arrival because they hadn’t understood about the loaves.

Throughout, it is a picture of the power of the reign of God, present in Jesus.

Jesus gives his disciples authority, and the embody Jesus’ ministry of healing, exorcising, and preaching.

Interestingly, when word of this reaches Herod, the report is one “about his [Jesus'!] name.” The work of the disciples is the work of Jesus. The question is, why is this power at work? Herod associates this with the return of John the Baptist–whom Antipas had killed.

Is there an irony, even here, that Herod knows that the person he killed was a person of such great power that even his on death-blow could not contain the forces at work in him?

Mark calls Herod “king” throughout the pericope, something that is not technically true (Antipas was Tetrarch of Galilee and Perea), though Herod both began and ended his reign as tetrarch pursuing the kingship of Judea.

So while the disciples are off extending the kingdom of God by their preaching, exorcising, and healing, we then read of a wannabe kingdom. The disciples aren’t to take any bread with them, but Herod is throwing a magnificent banquet [see picture, where Herod seems to have magically teleported in clothing from Renaissance Europe!].

The disciples go out defenseless and enact great deeds of power, the would-be powerful king becomes mastered by the hormones stirred by his step-daughter. While the disciples’ extend a reign of life through their healing, Herod has John killed.

There’s a power at work that exceeds the power of Herod.

What about the feeding of the 5,000? Stay tuned…

Exile? Between Text and History

Last week I posted some reflections on the Wheaton Theology Conference centered on the work of N. T. Wright.

I mentioned in a previous post that I find myself somewhere between Hays and Wright on the question of history and text: do we read the text as a window into a world behind it, or do we read the text itself as the theological witness to which we are committed?

I tend to prefer the latter (with Hays): the canon of the church is not the “historical Jesus” but the texts which bear witness to his ministry. This, in fact, seemed to be much the same point as Scot McKnight made in the April cover story of Christianity Today.

But, I also want to read those texts with historical integrity; that is, to do our best to understand sufficient amounts of the various contexts and pressures that stand behind the texts that we approach a viable understanding of what the ideal author might have intended for an ideal reader to understand. This is where I started to get a bit uncomfortable with incarnation as a hermeneutic for the gospels.

As I pondered this, I wondered if Wright’s insistence on the importance of “return from exile” might not be an important instance where the distinction between historical Jesus (Wright’s aim in JVG) and historically sensitive reading of the text (my goal) comes into play.

Wright insists through JVG that Israel still considered itself in exile. And I think there is something to this in the ways that they express their hopes for restoration; but I do wonder if Sanders’s “restoration eschatology” isn’t a better way of expressing things.

But the most important consideration, it seems to me, is not whether the Jew on the street in the first century would have understood Jesus and John the Baptist as offering “return from exile,” but that both Matthew and Mark invite us to so interpret Jesus’ ministry by the way they tell their stories.

When Mark begins by telling us that the beginning of the Gospel is that foretold in Isa 40, he is setting a framework for reading the entirety of Jesus’ ministry under the rubric of the fulfillment of Israel’s hopes of glorious return from exile.

Similarly, when Matthew so outlines the history of Israel that the final period in Jesus’ genealogy is “from the Babylonian exile to the birth of Jesus the Messiah,” we are being told that the period defined by that exile is coming to a close.

Of course, this raises some important questions, such as the way that this expectation itself might be subverted in the course of the narrative (as Marianne Meye Thompson pointed out in her lecture at the conference).

For example: What happens to the promise of “return from exile” when Jesus in the Temple says that the time in which the temple is located is not the time of Isaiah’s glorious restoration (“my house shall be called a house of prayer for all nations”) but rather in Jeremiah’s time immediately antecedent to exile (you’ve made it a “robbers den”)?

But the important point that Wright has established is that we have to recognize the narrative theme of return from exile. And this is the case even if it wasn’t in the mind of the historical Jesus or his friends–because it opens up a better, historically situated reading of the texts we’re reading.

Patience, You Are My King

As those of you who follow me on Facebook or Twitter know, I had a happy moment this morning realizing that the respective bridges of Guns ‘n Roses, “Patience,” (bridge starts at about 4:45 warning: tight pants and language) and that of “You Are My King (Amazing Love)” (bridge starts at about 2:15–cheesy comments warning) match up with amazing precision. I think the NRSV should go something like this:

Patience… need a little patience…. some more patience
I’ve been walkin’ the streets at night, just trying to get it right
‘Cause you are my King; Jesus you are my King

It’s hard to see with so many around, you know I don’t like gettin’ stuck in the crowd
And you are my King; Jesus you are my King

And the streets don’t change but maybe their names, I ain’t got time for the pain
‘Cause you are my King; Jesus you are my King

’cause I need you, woah I need you…
‘Cause you are my King

Alternatively, if you have people capable of singing three parts, then Part 1 should keep singing the “Patience, need a little patience, yeah…” Part 2 should sing the main Patience lyrics, and Part 3 should slow their part by half:

Need a little patience, yeah (2x)// I’ve been walking the streets at night, just trying to get it right//You are my king

Need some more patience, yeah (2x) // It’s hard to see with so many around, you know I don’t like bein’ stuck in the crowds // Jesus you are my king

Play around with it, figure out what works for your church. Enjoy.

Second Post on Biologos

My second post on the question of the historicity of Adam in light of Jesus and Adam in Paul is up on the Biologos blog.

Mostly, it’s about how Paul read the Bible: “[The] surprise ending often transforms how the Old Testament stories are read.”

Enjoy. Or fight with me in the comments. Either way!

Everyday Justice for Free

In celebration of Earth Day, Julie Clawson has announced that you can get a free download of the Kindle version of  Everyday Justice at Amazon.

This is a fantastic book. It has changed several of the buying habits around the house of Kirk, as well as raising our consciousness about the effects of our consumerism. So go get a copy.

Please note that you can download Kindle readers for your PC, Mac, iPhone, etc. even if you don’t have a Kindle. So go get a copy of this book and jump on in.

Women and Pornography

There was an important one-page article in Christianity Today about a woman who has started a ministry to women who struggle with porn addiction.

The ministry’s website is Dirty Girl Ministries.

We all know that pornography is a huge problem among men. It may come as a surprise to many that it’s not just a guy thing. Also, I hope it’s encouraging to women that there are other women who are struggling with the issue and that this resource is available to you.

Encore Presentation: The Structure of the Universe (part 7: revealed)

Note: this is the final installment of a series that was much sought after following the demise of my dearly beloved Sibboleth blog.

The Structure of the Universe (Part 7: Revealed)

I thought I was done with the structure of the universe series, but then an e-mail I received and my current trek through 1 Corinthians brought up something else.

One reason why it is crucial that we not lose sight of the deeply contingent nature of the biblical narrative is that the cross demands that Christians affirm the need for revelation–not in the sense of “scripture”, but in the sense of God, by Christ and the Spirit, making known to us things that were truly unknowable before. That includes things that scripture itself teaches that were previously unknowable even from scripture itself.

For example, do we really believe that in the gospel the righteousness of God is revealed? This is a point at which I don’t think the Lutheran and Reformed Traditions have taken the Bible seriously enough. Paul contends, and the Gospels testify, that the true content of the righteousness of God is not made known to us until Jesus dies on the cross and rises again. Revelation.

On a “Law as structure of the cosmos” view of things, we know what the righteousness of God is, as everyone always has, and so we simply await the day when someone comes to make that available in an account from which we can withdraw. But Paul takes the surprise of the Christ event with the utmost seriousness: it reveals God’s righteousness–even as it is the fulfillment of God’s promises in scripture. There is something truly unknowable before the Christ event makes it known. Revelation.

This differing set of ideas about the cosmos is at the heart of debates (such as Beale v. Enns) over the NT’s use of the OT. When the scriptures are simply containers for revealing truths, then the coming of Jesus is just one more truth they witness to. Scriptures are de-historicized in order to attest to a transhistorical God who reveals things that are true.

But the NT writers cry out in the streets that the Law and even the scriptures are not ultimate. Christ is ultimate–therefore the scriptures are only of value insofar as they are read as pointing beyond themselves to the Christ to come. “You search the scriptures because you think that in them you have life–yet it is these that testify about me!” (John 5). Scripture and Law are of value only insofar as they are reconfigured onto a grid of history in which Christ, rather than Law, is ultimate. This means, as Paul demonstrates clearly in Rom 10, that the Law and the scriptures in general must be reread, reinterpreted, given new and previously unseen and unseeable meaning, in light of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. Revelation.

This also gets to that little bit about the Spirit. The job of the Spirit, says Paul in 1 Cor 2, is to reveal to us that the economy of God, of God’s wisdom and power, as demonstrated in the cross of Christ, is true wisdom in contrast to the structures by which the world functions. This takes us back to my prior series on ethics: the cross reveals the mind of God in a way that subverts the power games of this world. That is something previously unknowable, but God, by the Spirit, makes it known that his way, and his power, are found in weakness. Revelation.

Here, it seems to me, we are up against a couple of foundational presuppositions that are keeping the conservative Reformed world from catching up with the broader world’s understanding of what is going on in scripture:

(1) The Reformed tradition teaches that its theology is the system of doctrine contained in the scripture. What is the Bible? It’s a receptacle of data which we are called to assemble into the system. This is what every pastor in the PCA, OPC, professor at Westminster or an RTS has to sign off on. In this view of theological systems, the revelation of God in Christ is no more central than any other piece of data, it simply shows that the covenants that have always been in place and the law that has always been in place continue to be God’s way of making things right with the world.

(2) The historical contingencies that deeply effect how scripture was written and read, and affect how we read earlier in light of later moments in the story (including our own) must remain forever off the table. The meaning of any passage of scripture, claims the Westminster Confession, is one. But what, then, of passages that were never messianic prophecies (Isa 7 comes to mind) that are then invoked as being fulfilled in Jesus? We must contort our readings of such OT passages to claim that they always spoke of the coming messiah. This is the fruit of a deep-level commitment to a scripture that is free from the taints of history. It is the upshot of a way of understanding who God is, and how the cosmos is stitched together, that has no need of the kind of revelation that comes with and after the death and resurrection of Jesus.

Is there a true, earth-shattering event that happens at the turn of the era with the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus? Is there a Revelation? I believe so, and I believe that it introduces a level of disjunction in the Story that requires radical reappraisal, rereading, of all that came before. In that Revelation we are confronted with the surprising truth about the fabric of the universe: even the Law which proceeded from the very mouth of God becomes penultimate when the Logos who proceeds from the Father from all eternity appears as the ultimate Revelation of who God is and how this God communes with His cosmos.

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