In a previous post here,  I gave a brief overview and introduction to the reading practice of Lectio Divina, a method for reading scripture that majors on prayer, meditation, and contemplation. I know many may be leery of a practice that finds its roots in the Catholic tradition. Well, hopefully I can assail some of those worries or better yet hopefully the psalmist can. 

Psalm 1 has rather convincingly been shown to function as a hermeneutical introduction to the Psalter as a whole. In essence, it informs the reader of how to read the Psalter in order to get the most out of it. Listen to the way Gerald Wilson describes its function: 

"This psalm provides the interpretative context from which to see the psalms not only as human cries to God (although they mirror that eloquently!), but as a source of divine communication to humans. It stresses private, individual meditation as an important mode of access to the theological message of the psalms and, in so doing, shifts the function of these compositions away from public, communal cult" ("Shaping the Psalter" 74). 

Well, God is there to be encountered in the Psalter and meditation is the key to it all. What are you waiting for? 

BTW . . . I realize you might be thinking what in the world is mediation or at least how did the Psalmist conceive of it. Great thought! Just put it on hold and we'll have that chat another time. But, until then unroll your psalm mat, burn some selah incense, and meditate! 

BD

In front of me on the wall at my desk are words of rebuke and encouragement from Michael O'Brien's character Josip Lasta in Island of the World (memorable quotes here). I'm confronted with these words nearly everyday. They rebuke me because I often do not practice silence, but also they encourage me to pursue such silence. 

I love these words because they do not equate silence with inactivity. Indeed, in Island of the World Josip was active. He was active in the service of others through the giving of himself and prayer. Reading the book I found myself wanting so much more for him than he seemed to desire for himself. And, in this way, I was and am confronted with my desire to be "something," to be heard, to be seen, etc. Let these words pour over you and invade your mind. Let them conquer your pride. 

Then today I was reading 1 Clement. A text penned by Clement the fourth bishop of Rome. The text is addressed to the church at Corinth. I don't want get into the details other than to say he was confronting them on a schism that had arisen in their congregation due to pride and envy. I came across these words in his letter: 

I couldn't help but correlate them with Josip's words above. I hope both of these words rebuke and encourage you. They're apt words for the Advent season because our Lord came into this world in the silence of obscurity to sacrifice himself for his people and for his creation. Meditate upon these words and imitate Josip . . . Clement . . . and by doing so imitate Jesus. 

BD   

In The Literal Meaning of Genesis (Book I, 18,37), Augustine follows a brief digression concerning how a reader of the biblical text should practice humility and maintain an open stance when dealing with obscure matters. It seems only fitting that such a comment be found in his commentary on Genesis. We would do well to heed Augustine's exhortation, especially in our place and time when many assert various opinions concerning the initial chapters of Genesis, creation, evolution, etc. Unfortunately, the tendency for many is to throw themselves "head over heals" into a "headstrong assertion." It seem to me that political, cultural, and ideological matters fuel this tendency. Therefore, Augustine's warning that, although those who practice throwing themselves "head over heals" many believe they are championing the cause of the scriptures, they may in fact find themselves championing their own cause, wanting it to be that of the scriptures. Timely and relevant wisdom from the early fifth century.    

BD

Several days ago, Ben Myers posted a provocative answer to the question: "Why go to church?" I thoroughly enjoyed it. So below, I've include a substantial portion it. You can read his answer in its entirety here. 

Hopefully, I can get around to offering some reflections alongside of and over against Myers' post.  

BD

Sometime ago I dabbled in the works of Washington Irving and in particular The Sketch Book of Geoffrey Crayon. This story concerns an adventurous young lad, and his travels near and far. Toward the beginning of the story Geoffrey contemplates his first sea voyage and describes the separation felt when one leaves his homeland.

But a wide sea voyage severs us at once. It makes us conscious of being cast loose from the secure anchorage of settled life, and sent adrift upon a doubtful world. It interposes a gulf, not merely imaginary, but real, between us and our homes--a gulf, subject to tempest, and fear, and uncertainty, rendering distance palpable, and return precarious.

In many ways, this is an apt description of life as a disciple of a crucified Messiah. Our baptism marks the beginning of our voyage. It indeed severs us from what we knew and the distance it creates enables us to see differently our lives and our world. We become aware of the illusory sense of security we attempted to secure for ourselves and our families. The life of a crucified Messiah, in which we were plunged, certainly removes the tethers of a comfortable life and pushes us onto a sea fraught with failure and grace, fear and comfort, the anxiety of doubt and the peace of faith. We feel as if torn between what we knew as our home and what we’re coming to know as our true home. Our lives currently occupy that space between; between what we knew and what we’re coming to know, between what we were and what we’re becoming. We surely know the fear and the uncertainty of which Geoffrey speaks when in this space between we experience distance behind and ahead. At many points, we question if we made the right decision setting off on this voyage either because of our continuing sinfulness within or because of persistent enticements without. In this space between, one thing is certain, despite our poor seamanship, that the winds of God’s grace will steadily propel us homeward.     

Here at The Pannenberg Circle we have been reading through Stanley Hauerwas's The Peaceable Kingdom: A Primer on Christian Ethics. An excellent book thus far. Several topics have emerged as points of discussion and even disagreement between us on "The Forum" (here). One such topic is the role of faith and politics. Below we've include a brief clip by James K. A. Smith from Calvin College on his understanding of the relation between faith and politics. This is a pertinent and relevant topic and we'd love to hear your thoughts? Conversation is needed because of the complexities of the issues that arise from such a topic and our pathetic ability to think Christianly through all the ins and outs, pros and cons. 

The task I’ve been given is to relay a lesson learned while during my time here at Central. However, I find it difficult to speak of a single lesson learned, as if we can learn a lesson apart from other lessons, experiences, and even failures. Life is too complex and this season in mine is no exception. Nevertheless, I’ll attempt to briefly offer several lessons that I’ve learned and continue to learn.     

First, I’ve come to see the mundane nature of our daily existence differently. We all aspire, if we’re honest, in some measure, to achieve and do great things. However, life quickly has a way of knocking such thoughts from our heads. The majority of us will live “boring” and “average” lives. Yet, within the mediocrity of daily existence lays a divine quality that bears cosmic significance. All of life that is lived to God and in imitation of him in Christ helps to further his creational and redemptive agenda in this world; no matter if its cleaning toilets or managing a fortune 500 company, working in the nursery or preaching on Sunday.

Second, I’ve been taught by the laments of the Old Testament to see that in a world east of Eden, where death and evil seem so dominant, faith at times is shrouded in doubt. Whether it is doubt that arises from profound suffering as in Lamentations or the seeming absurdity of life related in Ecclesiastes. In each case, a faithful hope in and reverence for God emerges from under the shroud of doubts and questions attendant with a marred existence.      

Third, I’m also learning that true power comes not in the form of physical prowess, superior rhetoric, economic affluence, or military might; but rather, it comes in humility and weakness. The pseudo concept of power dominant in our culture from the liberal to the conservative is fundamentally oriented toward self gratification and self interest through either the overt or the subtle exploitation of others. In contrast, true power or we could say divine power is fundamentally oriented toward the other through humble and self-sacrificial service. This is most readily seen in Jesus “who being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death—even death on a cross.”

Lastly, it would be remiss of me if I did not relay that I’m learning, however reluctantly, that I need others. I need a community in order to live this life well. For that reason, I would like to offer thanks to those who have most helped me through this particular season. First, I thank God who through his continual mercies allows me to continue despite my egregious and recurrent failures.

I thank my wife, who has offered me love and support without which this season would’ve undoubtedly been more difficult and less enjoyable.

I thank my parents for their self-sacrificial support and the ceaseless prayers they have offered for me from before my birth, during the times when I seemed the furthest thing from a loving son, and even now when I may seem little improved.

I want to thank my wife’s parents for their loving generosity and caring hospitality that have made their home a needed respite.

I want to thank my friends Jon and Wes with whom I’ve cut grass, read thousands of pages aloud, engaged in tomfoolery, and with whom I’ve been able to express my thoughts, frustrations, and doubts freely.

Lastly, I would like to thank all those from the seminary and this church who have tolerated me and have aided me in many and varied ways.       


BD

Since I’ve had some extra time recently, I picked back up James K. A. Smith’s Desiring the Kingdom: Worship, Worldview, and Cultural Formation, the first volume of "Cultural Liturgies" and finally finished it. It has been a challenge to read, but also an enjoyment. It awakened me to new thoughts and indeed new practices, but it also confirmed certain thoughts on baptism, the Eucharist, and the importance of form and embodiment in worship. He closes out the volume with a chapter on Christian education, particularly that of a Christian university. He critiques the dominant mode and goal of Christian university education (i.e., how to live in the world and the marketplace from a “Christian perspective”) with these words:

The creational, trinitarian, and cruciform nature of the cultural shaping that takes place in the baptismal city, I believe are spot on. I found particularly compelling his nuance of cruciformity as "cultural labor." A labor that is formed by the "thick practices of the church." 

Looking forward to starting sometime this summer Smith's second volume in "Cultural Liturgies" Imagining the Kingdom: How Worship Works.

BD 

For years, it had been proclaimed to Israel that there was good news. But, at the center of the proclamation each time was another “Herod” bent on self-preservation and violence, or a Jew bent on rules and regulations (which a lot of times was a Jew concerned with self-preservation through violence). They were waiting for the Messiah—ultimate good news. Enter Mark and his narrative about Jesus. Why is this significant? Why is it good news for not just Israel but for the whole world when Mark announces“the beginning of the good news about Jesus the Messiah, the Son of God?”

For Israel, it meant YHWH was fulfilling his covenant with them and establishing the long awaited kingdom (cf. Jesus’ first words in the narrative) with the arrival of the King. It was the climax of their story. Finally, the only one who could bring peace and Eden-life to the nation had arrived. For the whole world (Gentiles included), it meant that YHWH was fulfilling his covenant, and so all of creation would begin to experience with Israel the blessing of God. It also meant that true Eden-life was once again possible—not just for Israel but for all of creation.

God never abandoned his plan for Mankind in the garden. The framing of the imago dei in Gen. 1 is significant; both what is said immediately following, as well as the greater context in which it is said. “Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky and over every living creature that moves on the ground.” The Son of Man establishing himself as the long awaited Messiah—in the first half of Mark—is the initiation of Gen. 1 finally being fulfilled by Man. The Father approves of this by declaring Jesus to be the Son of God—once in the 1st half and once in the 2nd half. Again, what this means ultimately for creation and for us is life. True life is being restored to the world. Death and the curse are being removed. This is good news! So, Jesus is not just the climax of Israel’s story and the fulfillment of God’s covenant with Israel, but Jesus is the climax of the world’s story and the
fulfillment of God’s promises to all of creation. True life would not have been possible for creation if Jesus had not established himself as Messiah.

Mark frames his narrative into 2 sections. The first section has already been discussed in part: But essentially is centered on the question “who is this Jesus?” Character after character in the narrative is presented as pondering this question. Jesus’ actions and teaching are meant to point the different characters to the correct answer to this question. At the turning point in the narrative (8.27-9.1), Jesus seeks to find an answer from the disciples. “Who do you say I am?” Peter answers, “You are the Messiah.” And as readers, we breathe a deep sigh of relief and declare, “Finally some good news!” 

The second section of the narrative begins, and it is centered on Jesus’ teaching concerning the type of Messiah he is going to be with the subsequent unfolding of this teaching in his actions and words on the way to the cross. He won’t be a messiah focused on self-preservation or the building of his kingdom through violence. No. The kingdom and the cross go together. He is going to be a suffering Messiah. And, with a few interesting allusions to Daniel 7, we begin to see that, Yes! the Son of Man stands in stark contrast to the rulers—kings—that have preceded him. The rest of the narrative is an unpacking of this truth. He is the suffering Messiah concerned with humility, love, and self-sacrifice--true life. “The Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” 

So what does all this mean for us? In my next post—which will be considerably shorter than this one—I would like to briefly discuss a few ways that this narrative should impact our narrative. But first, I would love to hear your thoughts of how this discussion relates to Christ-followers and their views of—politics, ethics, ecology (what sort of concern we have for the environment), mission, etc. 

JC

I came into the library today to pound away at a paper I'm writing on the theology of the sabbath and was utterly paralyzed by a video Justin Taylor posted. Over the last several days, my home page has been bombarded by information surrounding Kermit Gosnell, who ran a clinic that slaughtered babies and devoured poor and marginalized women. Today, I decided to finally click on something to see what the fuss was all about and so I watched the video below. 
I wept. I cursed. I felt consumed by anger mingled with grief and confusion. Who cares about the theology of the sabbath when the genocide of marginalized babies takes places in our cities and neighborhoods. 
Watch it and don't turn away from it.

God, why have you let this happen? 
Where were you when this man butchered thousands of helpless children? 
I thought you were for the poor, the defenseless, the oppressed. 
I thought you were for LIFE. 
But, who am I to question you without first questioning myself? 
Am I not a part of the body of Christ? 
Am I not your hands and feet, Oh God? 
Who are we to question you without first questioning ourselves, the church? 
Are we not the body of Christ?
Are we not your hands and feet, Oh God?
Oh Creator of Life, drive us to action and not just donations and cute walks in the park. 

O God, the source of all life: so fill my heart with renewed faith in your love, 
that with calm expectancy I may make room for your power to possess me for your mission; 
through Jesus Christ our Lord. 
Amen.

BD