Luke

At the moment, I’m reading up on Luke-Acts. I’m focusing a good deal of the internet course I’m creating on the Gospel of Luke. Something that keeps striking me is that Luke is equally at home in the Jewish and the Greco-Roman world. He draws much of his theology from the Jewish Scriptures and applies familiar Old Testament images to explain who Jesus is. Jesus is Messiah, Son of Man (Dan. 7), a prophet like Moses (Deut. 18), the Suffering Servant (Isa. 53), an Elijah-like figure. At the same time, Luke appropriates Greco-Roman models in his gospel: Jesus teaches at meals like a philosopher would, he seems comparable to an Immortal (i.e., Hercules) and benefactors.*

There are lots of theological reasons that Luke keeps piling up image upon image to describe Jesus. I think it’s interesting that Luke assumes an audience made up of both Jews and Greeks. He tries to make the good news of Jesus accessible to both groups, doing in his writing just what Paul does in the book of Acts. Luke doesn’t just write about the expansion of the Kingdom of God among Jews and Gentiles – Luke participates in it. In the way Luke chose to write his gospel – with echoes of Jewish and Greco-Roman cultures – he (purposely?) puts into practice the inclusiveness demonstrated in the lives of Jesus, the apostles, and the early Christians.

Is it any wonder then that scholars can’t tell whether Luke was a Gentile or a Hellenistic Jew? Maybe the ambiguity is precisely the point: “There is neither Jew nor Greek… for [we] are all one in Christ Jesus” (Gal. 3:28).

* I’m drawing from Mark Allen Powell's Fortress Introduction to the Gospels (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1998) 100-103.

The Mantis Parable

I randomly found this short animated film on YouTube while looking for inspiration for the online class I'm writing for ACU. The Mantis Parable is Josh Staub's first film. (You can visit his website and order it here.) I enjoyed it and thought that you might too!



I'm trying to introduce my students to the theological perspectives of the four gospels. That is, the four gospels differ from one another (sometimes in small ways, sometimes significant) because of the theological message that the writer is trying to communicate to the reader. To get them thinking about different perspectives, I thought I'd have them each watch this film and write an interpretation of its meaning. Much like the four evangelists, my students are reflecting and describing the same story, but chances are they will perceive different nuances in that story depending on their own perspectives, contexts, and life experiences. I imagine that in a group of 3 or 4 students, their interpretations will differ significantly even though it's just a short, animated film. Is it any surprise, then, that the gospels differ sometimes slightly, sometimes significantly as they are interpreting a story of much greater length, importance, and ambiguity?

I'm still experimenting with teaching - maybe I'll learn that this isn't the best concrete experience for my subject matter. Still, it's an assignment that I'm excited about. Any feedback?

Something Life-Giving

This week I've been working on developing an internet course for ACU's Distance Ed. Program on the Life and Teachings of Jesus (Bible 101 around here). I had the distinct pleasure of meeting with an outside consultant, Tom, to plan out one of my course modules. Due to a communication error, we ended up having to scrap hours of work. Oops. But all was not lost. We had some great discussions about faith, the Bible, and the church. Tom is a faithful Catholic, and he has listened to the teachings of Jesus through liturgical readings all his life. He was especially fascinated with the idea that each evangelist develops certain themes to convey the theological perspective of the gospel. Tom had not read the gospels through in a long time, so yesterday he went out, bought a easy to carry Bible, and began to read Luke. When I saw him today, he informed me that he's almost finished with the gospel of Luke and asked for his next "reading assignment."

Writing this course has really been stretching me, and the process has been slow and draining. Tom's fresh enthusiasm for the story of Jesus Christ and for the distinctive viewpoints of each gospel reminded me why I wanted to do this sort of work in the first place. Tom has found something life-giving in the story of Jesus. That's doubly life-giving to me.

Homespun

In Abilene, you sometimes find bits of April sprinkled into winter months like January. Today is one of those days, and I took advantage of the welcome sunshine during my lunch break. While walking the track around ACU, my mind wandered the realm of metaphor - that wondrous literary device that bests lengthy expositions with a simple image. I've recently discovered that finding a metaphor to describe my feelings or situation at any given point is extremely satisfying, opening new doors of self-understanding in a way that other descriptions can't. Anyway, here's the metaphor that really stuck with me today.

One thing that I love about reading patristic writers is that they have immersed themselves so deeply in the Scriptures that biblical images and phrases pour freely from their pens and saturate their writing. Some of this is intentional, but some is subconscious. They wield biblical allusions freely, imaginatively, and even playfully - far more creatively than my historical criticism trained mind can begin to fathom. Sometimes the allusions are so subtle that I skim right over them without noticing. Whatever the outcome, for these patristic writers the text has a life that's not quite bound by its original context so that it takes on new meaning and significance in the author's situation. I'm not about to throw cautions about original context to the wind, but I still think there's something beautiful and inspiring about the lively patristic use of the Bible. I'd like for Scripture to capture my imagination that way (instead of quotes from the latest Office episode!).

These patristic writers use Scripture the way a woman quilting by hand works thread in and out of the material. Sometimes the thread is barely visible, even intentionally hidden from sight, but nonetheless it is that which holds the whole tapestry together. However beautiful the material and design may be, the small, careful stitches combine to form the pattern that gives the quilt its appealing texture. In such a way the Scriptures are woven into patristic writings, holding them together, adorning them.

Lord, though life sometimes hands us what seem to be random pieces of material, may your life-giving Word be the thread that binds it all together, bringing order, beauty and texture to our otherwise jumbled existence.

living Hebrews 11

While at a conference this week, I saw Donna Hester perform her Iron Apron Strings, an original theatrical piece written in reflection on the women listed in Jesus' genealogy in Matthew 1 (plus Eve). Hester's work centers in on each of these women in times of uncertainty, when they are struggling to make sense of the twists and turns of life. They're barely getting by, unable to discern their significance in the story of God which is breaking into the world.

Hester's interpretation of Rahab is especially captivating, not because of the monologue (which is well-written and well-performed), but because of the blocking (i.e. actions and props). Rahab describes her descent into prostitution - an occupation which morphes from "what you do" to "who you are." The monologue is gut-wrenching and heart-breaking. Yet, as Rahab unravels her tale of one hard knock after another, she irons a long cord of scarlet fabric. No mention is made of the destiny of that famous length of cloth - its presence is enough to evoke that fateful moment when it would dangle in her window as trumpets blew and Jericho's once sturdy walls shook (Joshua 2-6).

This image strikes a cord with me, as my graduation dates rapidly approaches. I'd like to think that maybe I'm ironing my own scarlet cord - holding in my hands, metaphorically speaking, something seemingly innocuous but that could be a tiny prop in the grand story of God which is unfolding in the life of the church. That may smack a bit of self-aggrandisement, but that's not my intention. The story in Joshua isn't centered around Rahab and her scrap of scarlet cord. It's about the action of God. Rahab happens to be in the right place at the right time, with an eye for the unusual, an imagination that can foresee an altered state of reality, and a willingness to dive in with whatever she has at her disposal even if it doesn't seem like much. She's an unlikely player... and an exemplary one - maybe that's why she also shows up in that long list of heroes of the faith in Hebrews 11.

Perhaps Rahab was also asked, "What are you going to do with that?!" Maybe, like me, sometimes her only response was a shrugging, "I don't know." But walking by faith, if Rahab is indeed an example of this, means carrying on in the midst of uncertainty and preparing for what currently seems unlikely or impossible.

To this end, I think I'm going to commit myself to a new discipline - a discipline that I will probably just allude to from time to time here. It's an unlikely one, one that will probably seem pointless and fruitless to many: I think I'll start writing sermons and practicing delivering them as a spiritual discipline.* Do I dare compare that to "ironing a scarlet cord" or building an ark?


* I think spiritual disciplines are best practiced in the context of community. Are there any of my female seminary friends out there who would like to participate?

So that paper didn't turn out quite as well as I might have liked... but I just turned it in anyway (5 minutes ago), and it feels nice to finally have a chance to take a breath without unfinished assignments looming over head. Besides, I got to read some patristic writers, and I always enjoy that. Here's a statement from Clement of Alexandria that I keep thinking about:

Now the Scripture kindles the living spark of the soul, and directs the eye suitably for contemplation; perchance inserting something, as the husbandman when he ingrafts, but, according to the opinion of the divine apostle, exciting what is in the soul. (Stromata, Book 1, Chapter 1)

Mmm - savor that! "Scripture kindles the living spark of the soul." I read Clement and I think to myself, "I want to read Scripture with that kind of passion." Perhaps I'll sit at the feet of the fathers this summer... Book of Steps here I come!

But first, it's time for a little recreation... I think I'll go see a musical tonight. Maybe Wicked?!

John 15:1-17

I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful. You are already clean* because of the word I have spoken to you. Remain in me, and as I also remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me.

I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. If you do not remain in me, you are like a branch that is thrown away and withers; such branches are picked up, thrown into the fire and burned. If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. This is to my Father's glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples.

As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love. If you keep my commands, you will remain in my love, just as I have kept my Father's commands and remain in his love. I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete. My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends. You are my friends if you do what I command. I no longer call your servants, because servants do not know their master's business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you. You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you so that you might go and bear fruit - fruit that will last - and so that whatever you ask in my name the Father will give you. This is my command: Love each other.


This picture is currently the wallpaper on my computer, and every time I see it I think about this passage. Thinking about it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy... until I actually attend to Jesus' words! This is a pretty challenging vision of Christian life together! Here's just an off-the-cuff list of my observations:

• God is the one who prunes the vine. (I think we tend to forget that from time to time.)
• As branches in the True Vine, we are participants in the love of the divine communion(!).
• The allure of autonomy is deceptive. A branch hoping to produce fruit on its own ends up in quite the opposite state: tossed away, withered - good only for firewood. Kinda puts my prideful strivings in perspective!
• "Friends" - wow. I suspect that this is a more robust notion of friendship than those we inherited from Romanticism. That alone is worthy of several posts.
  
• Love is costly here. It's easy to read the final "love one another" without glancing at the first, more demanding command: "Love each other as I have loved you." And, of course, on the lips of Jesus, the reference to laying down one's life is no empty exhortation. (Ironically, what may appear as being cut off from the land of the living is actually remaining in the True Vine.) I wonder - what could we say about the nature of the church from this passage?
  

One more random thought: this passage makes me think of Polycarp - a second century bishop of Smyrna and a disciple of the apostle John. His name is derived from two Greek words that appear in this passage: polu karpos or "much fruit." And the name fits. In 155, facing certain execution at the hands of local magistrates, Polycarp refused to curse Christ saying, "I have been his servant for 86 and he has never mistreated me. Then how can I blaspheme the King who saved me?" With his decision to remain in Christ, Polycarp's life was forfeit - they burned and stabbed him. And yet, in laying down his life, Polycarp became a living sermon - a vivid illustration of the very passage from which he derives his name. (If you're interested, you can read a 2nd century account of his martyrdom here.)

* A Johannine play-on-words: the word translated "clean" is the same as the one translated "prune" in the previous verse.

The Beginning, Pt. 1

I've been thinking a lot about creation stories lately, mostly due to conversations I've had with Mom lately. She teaches fourth grade at a large private school in the metro Atlanta area, and lately they've been talking a lot about evolution vs. creation. Actually, one of her fellow teachers has been devouring information from groups like the Apologetics Press and decided to spearhead an effort to debunk evolution. The middle school and high school chose not to participate in the workshop, but the elementary school kids will be getting a full dose of creationist polemics.

I think this is a pretty bad idea. Mom agrees, but she can't voice her disagreement at school. Several years ago, a few teachers were let go because they believed in evolution, and everyone's been skirting the issue since. There's an eerie silence among the teachers - they must all take their classes to the workshop, but they are obviously unenthused about it. This week, they watched a video preview of the workshop during their teacher workday. Apparently, it was mostly full of anecdotal "evidence" against evolution and unconvincing logical arguments. One of the arguments went something like, "If the creation story is not taken as a literal 6 day event then the reliability of the whole Bible is called into question, allowing room for all kinds of immorality and faithlessness, and Christianity falls to pieces." The speaker on the video went on to link all the things that are wrong with contemporary society with belief in the theory of evolution.

Now, I don't mind someone holding or sharing honest doubts about evolution. I'd probably have a few too, if I actually took some time to study up on it. Biology isn't my area of expertise or interest; my frustration with the apologetics material is more along the lines of theology, biblical interpretation, and Christian discipleship. Is it really beneficial to make such an egregious overstatement about the importance of the literal interpretation of Genesis 1 and 2? Does the truth of the Bible, of the Christian faith really hinge on this? Placing the blame for all the evils of society on the theory of evolution makes about as much sense as using The DaVinci Code as a history textbook. I don't think that the best way to teach people, young or old, to follow Jesus is by loading them up with arguments and strategies for aggressively confronting people who don't believe.

Here's something that I think creationists are right about: the creation story matters. Stories of origin have an impact on how we see the world and our place in it. I think it's important for Christians to continue asserting that God is Creator and that God created human beings, both male and female, in God's image. The way the creation story describes God the Creator matters, too. It is not an option to simply scrap the opening chapters of the Bible (or any part of the Scriptures for that matter!) and accept whatever theory of origins is in vogue for the time being. However, I don't think that a literal interpretation is the only faithful option for Christians. More to come on this topic in the future...