I'm Thirsty -- A Lectionary Meditation

Exodus 17:1-7



Romans 5:1-11


John 4:5-42

I’m Thirsty

Water is essential to life. The human body is somewhere between 55% and 78% water, and water covers about 70% of the earth’s surface. Although we can go a while without water, eventually we’ll die without water. Water and life – they go hand in hand.

Two of the texts for this Third Sunday of Lent focus on water. Moses has to deal with a people who complain vociferously because they don’t have water to drink, while Jesus finds himself tired and thirsty and sitting next to Jacob’s well. He doesn’t complain, but he does ask for water! As we think about water and thirst we might want to look ahead for a moment to Jesus’s cry from the cross – I Thirst (John 19:28). Paul’s not quite ready to get to the water (Baptism appears in Romans 6), but he deals with the issue of suffering and hope, ideas that are present in the other two texts. Each of these scriptures remind us that no matter how difficult the journey, God is present and faithful.

In the Exodus story, the people have again grown cantankerous. Although God provided food for the journey – not that they enjoyed the menu – now they’re thirsty. This leads to quarreling and complaining to Moses – why, they ask, have you led us out here into the wilderness so that we might die of thirst. You would have thought that they preferred slavery in Egypt, and perhaps they did. We often prefer the misery we know to the potential misery that might face us in the unknown. With all the harping and complaining, Moses grows frustrated with this people God had entrusted to his care. They were never satisfied, no matter what God did – whether it was the rescue from the clutches of Pharaoh’s army or the manna from heaven – they weren’t satisfied. Wanting water they begin to quarrel amongst themselves, and Moses cries to God – “What am I to do with this people? They’re ready to stone me.” As I read this, I’m reminded of political leaders, especially Presidents, who find that they can never satisfy the populace, no matter what they do. It’s never enough!

But God is gracious and hears Moses, telling him to gather the Elders and then go out ahead of the people. God tells Moses to meet at the Rock at Horeb, and there in front of the Elders, Moses does as God commanded. He strikes the rock with the staff he had used to strike the Nile, and from that rock sprang water to quench the thirst of the people. God had provided, but in a bit of frustration, Moses calls this place Masseh and Meribah, because the Israelites “quarreled and tested the Lord saying - “is the Lord among us.” I sense that the word we need to hear in this story concerns typical human behavior – even in the church – in spite of our complaining and insolence, God is faithful. So instead of complaining, let us give thanks to God.

Before we turn to story of Jesus’ encounter with the woman at the well, we must heed Paul’s discourse in Romans 5. The chapter begins familiarly – “Since we are justified we have peace with God through the Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have obtained access to the grace in which we stand.” In Christ we’re justified, saved, and reconciled. I’m afraid it’s easy to read this passage in a very transactional way. We’re sinners who face the wrath of God, and Jesus’ blood substitutes for our blood. For centuries theologians have interpreted the cross in a quid pro quo fashion – the life of Jesus for my life. But why does God need blood to be satisfied? What is it that I have done that requires the death of another, especially one who is innocent of all changes? I struggle with the idea of divine wrath. I don’t have space to delve into this question here in this place, but perhaps there is another way of reading this text. Maybe the issue is one of separation between Jew and Gentile – in the cross a way has been created that brings the two together. I don’t know, but what I do hear in this text is a promise that no matter what happens there is hope. Suffering, which we all experience, produces endurance, and endurance leads to character, and character builds hope, and as Paul says – this hope doesn’t disappoint. That is because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit. That is the message we need to hear – not that we’re miserable sinners who need someone to suffer our due punishment so that God will accept us. No the word we should hear in this text is that God’s love will transform our lives in ways that lead to hope. That is a word of salvation.

Finally we come to the story Jesus’ encounter with the Samaritan woman at Jacob’s Well. According to John, Jesus is sitting by the well because he’s tired. He’s on his way to Jerusalem, where he will taste suffering The disciples have gone into town to get some food. It’s about noon when a woman comes to the well to draw water, and so Jesus asks her to draw him some water to drink, because he’s thirsty. This woman is caught off guard because Jesus is a Jew and she’s a Samaritan (and a woman) so why is he asking her for water? My guess is that he’s thirsty and she has the means to get him a cup of water, but that’s too simple an explanation. The point isn’t the physical thirst, but the spiritual thirst that lies within. The request for water leads to a theological discussion, but first Jesus has to overcome the woman’s literalist mind set, just as he had to do in John 3 with regard to Nicodemus. That’s just the way we are – we think literally first and only later are we able to move onto something more spiritual in nature.

Having asked the woman for a cup of water, Jesus in turn offers the woman living water. At first she can’t comprehend what he’s saying. How can Jesus offer her living water when he doesn’t have a bucket to draw water with. But, when Jesus says that once she drinks this living water she’ll never thirst again, she becomes intrigued. How does this happen? But, besides that, this well belonged to Jacob. How could any other water exceed it in value? Still, water that fulfilled thirst eternally, that was worth pursuing. Having such water would eliminate the need to come to the well. As she’s contemplating this reality, Jesus tells her to go and get her husband. Of course, she’s not married, but apparently he already knows this. In fact, although she’s been married five times, the man she’s with whom she now lives isn’t her husband. Not only is she a woman and a Samaritan, but it would appear that she’s also a sinner, but Jesus doesn’t make anything of that. He seems to understand that she has lived a life of suffering – probably at the hands of the men who have been in her life. Perhaps she has become ostracized, which is why she was at the well at the height of the noon day sun. I don’t know any of this for sure, but it does appear that Jesus has pricked her heart. His revelation of her life causes her to move from her focus on getting water to understanding whom Jesus is.

How do you know this about me? You must be a prophet of God, but then there’s this theological problem. We worship here on this mountain, and you worship in Jerusalem. We’re divided, separated from each other by our theologies of worship. We think God is present here in this place, you think God is some place else. And yet he has spoken truth to her and so she’s intrigued. But Jesus has a surprise for her – place doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter if it’s Sychar or Jerusalem, Wittenberg or Rome, the point is that God is Spirit and those who would worship God must worship in Spirit and truth. What a freeing thing this word must be, though still she’s not ready to receive it. How often do we resist a word of liberation and freedom? We stay locked within the box that we’ve built for ourselves. The box may have its use once, but now its time to move on, to grasp that God is bigger than the box. The woman who is now a theologian says to Jesus, well when the Messiah comes, then we’ll know what to do. Yes, when the prophet comes who we’re expecting, that person will make this all clear. And Jesus says – “I am he.” I’m the one you’ve been waiting for.

As Jesus makes this claim, the Disciples return to find him deep in conversation with this woman. They’re surprised at all of this. I’m not sure whether this is because the conversation partner is a woman or a Samaritan, but they’re not prepared. This interruption gives the woman an opportunity to return to the village, where she spreads the news about the one who revealed her life to her, and her testimony draws out the people to the well. While she’s doing her evangelistic effort, the Disciples talk to Jesus about the food they’ve procured, but Jesus says – “I have food you know nothing about.” Yes, once again it’s a question of literal versus spiritual. And the Disciples are confused – where did he get the food, but the food he has to offer is spiritual food. As they discuss what to eat, the Samaritans gather around Jesus and invite him to stay a few days and teach them. Afterwards they say to the woman: We no longer have to rely on your testimony, we’ve heard enough to know that he is the savior of the world.

Our thirst is physical, even as our hunger is physical. We are physical beings and we need food and water – whether we’re in the desert of Sinai or at Jacob’s Well. But we’re more than physical beings who need food and water. We’re spiritual beings, who need spiritual food and spiritual drink. Each week, at least in my tradition, we gather at the table of the Lord and take bread and cup. It’s not enough to stave off our physical hunger and thirst, but it is a reminder that our hope is found in the one whom we worship in spirit and in truth, the one who is faithful and who provides what we need, so that we might grow into people of hope.

Moving on Up -- a Lectionary Reflection for the Second Sunday of Lent

Genesis 12:1-4a



Romans 4:1-5, 13-17


John 3:1-17

Moving on Up . . .

You can’t see the Kingdom of God without being “born from above.” So says Jesus to Nicodemus (John 3:3). That phrase “born from above” might be a key to understanding the journey of faith. We are by nature physical beings, but by grace we become spiritual beings. By faith we are enabled, as we allow the Spirit, who like the wind, blows where it likes, without us being able to control it. If we’re willing to allow grace to bless us, then our lives might be transformed so that we can participate in God’s work of transforming the world that God loves. If being part of the realm of God means being “born from above,” then most assuredly the path of faith is an upward track. While this path may lead upward, it needs to be said that most often it first goes into the valley.

In approaching these three lectionary texts for the second Sunday of Lent, my thoughts are being pushed in interesting directions from my concurrent readings in Richard Rohr’s Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life (Jossey Bass, advanced proof). Rohr speaks of the reality that faces us all – that we will fall before we rise.

So we must stumble and fall, I am sorry to say. And that does not mean reading about falling, as you are doing here. We must actually be out of the driver’s seat for a while, or we’ll never learn how to give up control to the Real Guide. It is the necessary pattern. (P. 66).

The journey we are taking, should we chose the way of the Spirit of God, won’t be an easy one. Consider the journey of Abraham and Sarah, after God calls him. Yes, he receives a promise and a purpose, but it’s not all smooth sailing. God calls Paul on the Damascus Road, he’s blinded and then healed, but it’s not all smooth sailing for him either. As for Jesus, he hears the call and takes up the mantle of God, but his path leads to a cross before it leads to resurrection. Suffering is part of the course of life. We must go down, in order to move up. The cross comes before resurrection. If we’re to experience the fullness of God’s promises we must understand this reality.

Our journey starts with a promise to Abram. God says – go to a new country and I’ll make for you many descendants and you we’ll be blessed so that you might be a blessing to the nations. That’s pretty good news, but it demands a sacrifice. Abram must leave behind his home and his family in order to receive the blessings. But Abram went by faith. But, he doesn’t go alone. In this particular set of verses, we don’t read Sarai’s name, but this is a partnership. There will be no descendants without her. The promise made to Abram and Sarai is really one of the most important statements in scripture, because it sets the context for the rest of the story. Christians come into the story as heirs of the promise to Abraham by grace, for we are not direct descendants of Abraham and Sarah. But then again, as we’ll see, even Abraham and Sarah and their descendants don’t earn this promise, but instead receive it by grace. It is grace that enables them to receive the call of righteousness by faith.

In many ways Romans 4 is a commentary on the Genesis 12 passage. According to Paul, the call of Abraham is not something that has been earned. Abraham is our ancestor, not because of works, but simply because Abraham believed God. Now what does this mean? “Abraham believed God.” Does that mean that God gave Abraham some kind of ordination exam with a set of questions that needed proper answers lest he be rejected? That doesn’t seem to be the case. Abraham isn’t justified – made right before God – because of the Law. Remember the Law doesn’t come until later. No, it’s a matter of faith, and again faith isn’t assent to a set of doctrines, but is simply trust. Abraham heard the call to leave behind family and friends and security so that he could follow God’s lead into Canaan.

It’s important that as we hear Paul place the Law behind Faith, we don’t hear him denigrate the value of Law. For Paul the Law its place, but it’s not the end game. Again, turning to Richard Rohr, who speaks of life’s two halves, the first half has to do with identity formation and security. It’s a question of ordering one’s life, and most assuredly the Law helps with this task. In the second half of life, we can begin to take risks and journeys beyond secure boundaries, but as Rohr suggest, “maybe they cannot answer a second call because they have not yet completed the first task.” He then goes on to write:

Unless you build your first house well, you will never leave it. To build your house well is, ironically, to be nudged beyond its doors (p. 23).

We have to fulfill at least a large part of the first half tasks before we’re ready to move on. Apparently Abraham was ready to take the next step. So was Paul. The point is, that if adherence to the Law is all that is required, then faith is of little value. If Law is the end, then what we have is a rather risk-averse life. The Law has its place, for as Rohr writes, “without law in some form, and also without butting up against the law, we cannot move forward easily and naturally” (p. 25). To live by faith is to take that step outside the doors, to butt up against the walls that try to keep us inside, and being to fly, to test the waters, and live by the Spirit.

This brings us to the gospel lesson from John. The text itself doesn’t speak to the Abraham paradigm that is present in the two texts from Genesis and Romans, but John pushes us to think outside the box. Nicodemus comes to Jesus, seeking wisdom (we would assume), but Jesus throws him for a loop with his talk of being born from above if he should want to see God’s kingdom. Like most of us, Nicodemus is thinking in very material terms. How can I be reborn from my mother’s womb? But, Jesus is speaking in spiritual not material terms. He’s moving beyond the first half concerns of rules and boundaries and identities to the life in the Spirit, where we test boundaries and allow God to move in and through us so we might reach our full potential as God’s children. Jesus first says – if you want to see the realm of God you have to be born from above – that is, born from heaven. Then he ups the ante, and says – if you want to enter the Kingdom then you will have to be “born of water and Spirit.” Traditionally, this phrase has been taken to refer to baptism, but I’m convinced that in context the point isn’t baptism, but rather a contrast between physical birth (water) and spiritual birth. Both are necessary, for we are born of the flesh, but if we’re open then we can also be born of the Spirit as well. To enter the kingdom we must experience this spiritual birth, and when it comes to the Spirit, the wind blows where it will. We don’t control it, and it will push us outside the box.

In this conversation, as John tells the story, Jesus moves onto a discussion of what it means to fall upward. No one has ascended to heaven, he says, except the one who has descended from heaven – the Son of Man. But the one who has descended must be lifted up, even as Moses lifted up the serpent, so that whoever would believe might have eternal life. And what does it mean to believe? Again, I don’t think it means signing on the dotted doctrinal line, but rather trusting in the one who seeks to take us on a journey of faith – the Spirit of God. Our hope lies then in the one sent by God who loves the world, so that whoever trusts in the one God has sent might not perish but have eternal life, which as Richard Beck notes, may have less to do with quantity of time as it does with quality of life in God.

The question that these texts raise concerns whether we’re ready to move on up into the heavenly realm? Are we ready to follow the Spirit and live outside the box? Have we formed/been formed in such a way that our identities are secure enough that we can leave the nest and follow the Spirit into new opportunities to be in partnership with God in loving the world? And we do so by faith, knowing that the wind of the Spirit blows where ever it wills!



Temptation -- a Lectionary Meditation

Genesis 2:15-17, 3:1-7



Romans 5:12-19


Matthew 4:1-11

Temptation

“There are several good protections against temptation, but the surest is cowardice.” (Mark Twain)

Two stories of temptation lead off the Lenten journey, reminding us that temptation is an ever present challenge. Though, as Mark Twain notes, there are ways of dealing with temptation, the most effective being – run for the hills! Or better yet, never take risks, and you’ll not have to deal with problems such as this. But if we want to live fully and put ourselves in a position to grow and mature in our faith, then we must face the prospect of falling prey to temptation. It is, in fact, the central theme of the biblical story. Richard Rohr writes:

It is not that suffering or failure might happen, or that it will only happen to you if you are bad (which is what religious people often think), or that it will happen to the unfortunate, or to a few in other places, or that you can somehow by cleverness or righteousness avoid it. No, it will happen, and to you! Losing, failing, falling, sin, and the suffering that comes those experiences – all of this is a necessary and even good part of the human journey. [Richard Rohr, Falling Upward, (Jossey Bass, proof copy), p. xxii]

It is important that as we take in these stories that we not forget that falling down is part of the journey, but growth comes as we get up and move forward in the presence of God. In this week’s lectionary readings there are two stories of temptation – one referring to Adam and Eve and the other to Jesus. In the middle we come across Paul’s meditation on sin and redemption – through one man sin comes into the world, through the second man its effects are overcome. In Genesis God puts a tree into the middle of the garden and says – don’t eat or you’ll die. In Matthew, Jesus is baptized by John and then is immediately driven into the Wilderness by the Spirit so that he might be tested. Are we ready to be tested? That is the question.

In the first story God puts a man in the garden and tells him to till it and tend to it. He can eat of all the trees in the garden, except one, and if he eats of this Tree of Knowledge he’ll most assuredly die – though Genesis doesn’t tell us how this will occur (Gen. 2:15-17). But, as you read this warning, you have to know that something untoward is going to happen. You can’t put a tree in the middle of the garden that has really good looking fruit on it and then say – don’t eat. You know he’ll eventually bite into the fruit. With this warning in place, the lectionary guides have us skip over the section where God creates the woman as the man’s companion, and takes us to the encounter between the woman and the Serpent, who according to the writer of this text is the craftiest of God’s creations. Note here that the reference isn’t to the devil, though later interpretive tradition will make this connection. The Serpent says to the woman: “Did God say, ‘You shall not eat from any tree in the garden?” Of course, God didn’t say anything of the sort. God said you have all that you need, so stay away from that tree in the middle of the garden. If you eat it, you will die. The woman knows the truth and responds accordingly. But the key to the discussion is the suggestion by the Serpent that the reason God doesn’t want them to eat of the fruit is that upon eating it they will be like God, knowing both good and evil. The Serpent promised wisdom, but God asked for trust, trust that was quickly broken. And upon eating the fruit, the eyes of both are opened and they discover that they are naked, and so they cover themselves with fig leaves. Yes, shame enters the picture and the two whom God created to be companions are now alienated from each other. And as the story goes on, they hide even from God, suggesting that alienation from God had also crept into the picture. While we talk about sin here, the real issue is one of broken trust. But, as Rohr points out – that is part of life. The question is – how will we respond to the realities. Will we get back up and seek reconciliation? Will we allow that original trust to be restored?

Before we turn to Matthew’s temptation story, we turn to Romans 5, where Paul talks about the consequences of the man’s transgressions. Although the woman is often blamed for the Fall, Paul is of the mind (maybe it’s his chauvinism) that the man is responsible. Of course, Paul is also concerned about creating a parallel situation. Adam is seen as the one who breaks trust with God, and therefore allows for sin and death to enter the picture. The passage opens with one of the most pregnant verses in the New Testament. Taken literally it seems to give support to the doctrine of original sin. Paul writes that it was through a man (Adam) that death came into the world because of sin, and death spread to all humanity because all sinned. Paul is reaching back to Genesis 2-3, and offers his explanation as to why sin is so prevalent and why death is experienced by all. Because of Adam we all die, and the culprit has traditionally been seen as original sin. We sin because of Adam and we die because of him. It seems so genetic, but not so fast. Note that Paul says that death spread to all because all sinned, not because the man sinned. Sin was present since the beginning of human history – that is the implication of the text, and it has had devastating effects. It is also clear that sin is not simply disobedience of the Law, because sin and death existed prior to Moses.

The key point in all of this is the role that Adam (the man) plays in the story. Paul says that Adam is the type of the one to come. And while sin and death was introduced into the world through the actions of the first man, through the work of the second Adam (Christ) comes grace. Thus, if many die because of the first man’s sin (setting the world in motion toward disobedience), so in the second Adam’s obedience this is turned around. In a statement that almost sounds universalist in intent, Paul says that “because of the one man’s trespass, death exercised dominion through that one, much more surely will those who receive the abundance of grace and the free gift of righteousness exercise dominion in life through one man, Jesus Christ (Rom. 5:17). We must face the reality of sin – however it may have come into the world – but the good news is that in Christ its effects have been overturned. Forgiveness is ours.

When we read Matthew’s Temptation story, it’s easy for us to discount the threat to Jesus’ identity. We just assume, or at least many assume, that Jesus is divine and therefore there’s really nothing to be concerned about. It’s all just a test, to which all the answers have already been given. There’s really no chance that Jesus would actually have failed or fallen. But if we take such a view. If there’s nothing really at risk in the incarnation, then what’s the point? Is it a mere exercise for our enjoyment? Is the devil too stupid to know that Jesus couldn’t fall, so God was having a good laugh? If these tests are real and God’s purpose could have been thwarted, then Jesus is – in Paul’s terms – the Second Adam. In his obedience he shows us the way to rebuild trust; how to walk in righteousness. But as the story goes, the devil gave it his best shot, but it wasn’t good enough. The temptations were truly seductive. Bread to end hunger; a spectacle to draw followers; rule over the world in exchange for a small bow. And yet in each case, Jesus stood strong in the Spirit. Jesus chooses to live by the words that come from the mouth of God; chooses not to put God to the test; and Jesus chose to worship God and not the devil. In the end the devil goes away, and the famished savior is tended to by the angels. It is in the obedience of the Second Adam that the disobedience of the First Adam is reversed. But obedience is more than playing it safe. Obedience involves taking necessary risks so that one might grow in faith and practice.

Temptation is part of life. We will fall, lest we believe that perfection is something to be guarded to such an extent that we’re not willing to live life in the presence of God. That is not, I believe, what God calls for us to do. It is in reality the way of death and not life. Let us then pursue God’s purpose for our lives, by living boldly in the world.

Unprotected Texts -- Review

UNPROTECTED TEXTS: The Bible’s Surprising Contradictions about Sex and Desire. San Francisco: Harper One, 2011. 343 pages.

“Family values” has long been a rallying cry of politically inclined religious conservatives, especially as the sexual mores of the American people have “loosened” since the 1960s. In the face of increasing acceptance of homosexuality, premarital sex, and divorce, “family values” push for the adoption of a “biblically based” sexual morality that includes a definition of marriage limited to one man and one woman along with sexual abstinence outside of marriage. The problem with these proposals is that it’s difficult to nail down a consistent biblically based sexual ethic. First century families, Christian or otherwise, look a lot different from contemporary family structures – even among conservative Christians, not to mention variety of family groupings and guidelines found in the Hebrew Bible/Christian Old Testament. So, whose family values should we embrace? Abraham’s, Jacob’s, David’s, Jesus’, or may be Paul’s? Once you start digging deeper into the biblical text the possibility of finding such a consistent ethic is difficult to find.

Jennifer Wright Knust has taken up the question of the bible and sexuality in her provocatively titled book Unprotected Texts: The Bible’s Surprising Contradictions about Sex and Desire. While the “contradictions” might not be all that surprising to those of us who have read the Scriptures with a critical eye, for many lay readers the questions raised by Knust might prove challenging at the very least. Since this is a book written with the educated but curious general reader in mind, one can imagine the conversations that will take place around the “new books” table at the local bookstore (if such a thing still exists in your community). That the author is not only a biblical scholar (Knust is an assistant professor of religion at Boston University), but an ordained American Baptist minister might be even more provocative to some. How does a person called to serve the church write such a book?

The answer might be found in common concern among religious leaders, including clergy and religious scholars – how do we respond to the questions being asked of us concerning religion and sexuality? For some the answer is simple – stick to “traditional values” – but for others this simply doesn’t work. As we learn more about homosexuality, for instance, it’s much harder to see same-gender relationships as sinful or unnatural. And as young adults postpone marriage, it’s harder to enforce prohibitions against pre-marital sex and living together outside marriage. It is in response to these dilemmas that Knust writes, hoping that by uncovering the complexity of understandings of sexuality in Scripture Christians and Jews might find answers to festering questions. The basic purpose in writing the book, according to the author, is to present “a detailed analysis of biblical attitudes and assumptions while exploring the reception of biblical narratives by later Christian and Jewish interpreters” (p. 16).

In taking up her quest to understand the various ways sexuality is understood in scripture, she makes it clear that in her estimation the Scriptures present conflicting perspectives on sexual morality, even though all of this is done in the name of God. As we take this trip through the Bible’s discussions of sexuality we deal with such issues as whether Jonathan and David’s relationship was homoerotic and whether the Song of Solomon envisions a premarital erotic sexual relationship. The reader will also look at the variety of ways that marriage is envisioned, from the polygamous marriages of David and Solomon, to the rather negative portrayals of marriage offered by Jesus and Paul. Then, of course there are the household codes that we find in Ephesians and Colossians. Sections of the book deal with body parts and fluids – looking into questions of menstruation, circumcision, and masturbation. Another chapter deals with the “evil impulse,” that is the sexual drive, which needed to be controlled. In this particular chapter Knust responds to the suggestion by Southern Baptist megachurch pastor Ed Young that marriages can be strengthened if partners have sex every day. Knust notes that such advice would run quite contrary to the teachings of Paul and his own interpreters, who sought to control their sexuality not free it up – whether within marriage or not.

Knust’s book is an interesting and intriguing read. She covers a lot of territory and does so provocatively. As I noted earlier for many readers much of this won’t be new, though personally I found the discussion in the chapter on “Strange Flesh” illuminating. In this chapter she deals with a number of issues that range from the Sodom Gomorrah story to the suggestion that the giants and “warriors of renown” were the children of unions between angels and human women. The latter isn’t all that new or controversial, but the suggestion that the issue in Sodom centered not on either homosexuality or hospitality, but the Sodomite’s yearning to mate with angels (that is strange flesh) was new to me and intriguing. She also deals with the question of the angels whom Paul is concerned about in 1 Corinthians 11. Paul suggests that women should be veiled “on account of the angels.” Could the issue be that the angels are watching and desiring these women? Remember too that the Corinthians were engaging in angelic speech.  Another topic that many will find intriguing and challenging is her comparison of the Jezebel and Esther stories.  One is condemned for being a foreign woman who leads her husband astray (Jezebel), while the other is a Jewish woman (Esther) who leads her foreign husband to do what is right.  Both play similar roles, but one is commended and the other is not.  It is, therefore, a matter of perspective!

The book is, as noted earlier, intriguing and at times illuminating, but it is also frustrating. At times it seems as if we’re being given only two choices when it comes to reading scripture. You have to choose between either biblical literalism or biblical minimalism. As is often true of the broadsides written by folks like John Spong and Bart Ehrman (his blurb graces the front cover) there doesn’t seem to be any middle ground. Thus, although I find the “strange flesh” explanation for the Sodom story to be intriguing, I’m not sure I’m ready to jettison the idea that the problem is one of breaking the code of hospitality. Another conversation point has to do with Paul’s attitude toward sex (pp. 81ff). Although Paul prefers celibacy, I’m not convinced that this makes him anti-sex or that marriage is the second best option for controlling sexual desire. In addition, while I’m in agreement that there isn’t a consistent sexual ethic present, I wish there was more attention given to how we might make use of the biblical story/stories to construct appropriate sexual ethics in the present age. The author herself affirms that while the Bible is not perfect it is beautiful, “particularly when we do not try to force it to mean just one thing” (p. 247).

My conclusion is that Knust’s book is far from perfect.  First, I'm not always clear who the intended audience is.  There are points at which she gives some rather remedial directives as to the context of a story, while at other points going into rather deep detail in topics that require more background.  While she raises lots of important questions about the role of sexuality and family in the biblical story, often in provocative ways, I wish she had given more guidance as to how we might make sense of this diversity in creating a sexual ethic that is appropriate for this age.  Yes, there is great variety in the text, which seems to offer permission for variety of expressions in the modern age.  But, how does one discern what is appropriate and what is not when it comes to sexuality?  Although, the book is a helpful conversation starter that may serve as necessary antidote to the proof-texting methods of the "family values" crowd, but I was left wanting more. 

Offered as part of the TLC Book Tour. 

Pseudonymity and the Bible (Excerpt from Ephesians Study Guide)

Many modern readers find the idea of pseudonymity to be problematic. The idea of a nom de plum is a well understood practice, but writing in the name of a famous person seems unseemly, even fraudulent. The very first syllable is off putting, for “pseudo” means, for us, falsity. Indeed, for me to write a book under the name of a famous theologian, such as Karl Barth, would lead to charges of producing a forgery. How can we accept this text as offering words of truth if it emerges from a false identity. Modern western squeamishness with pseudonymity isn’t something that is shared by every culture, including many cultures living in the early centuries of the Christian era.

It was common practice and considered perfectly acceptable to write a book in the name of another person. Solomon, for example, is the attributed author of most of the Proverbs, while many of the Psalms are attributed to David. There is also a book attributed to Daniel —who may or may not have been a historical figure — that was written several centuries after the era described. Then we have the various authors whose work comprises the book of Isaiah. Within the New Testament, we know that the gospels were written anonymously, with authorship attributed to the books by later tradition —probably in the second century. At least one, if not both, of the Petrine letters are pseudonymous, as is true of Jude.

Among the letters attributed to Paul, the only undisputed letters are those addressed to the Romans, the two Corinthian epistles, Galatians, Philippians, 1 Thessalonians, and Philemon. There is also a whole range of pseudonymous literature that stands outside the biblical canon, but like the canonical texts the reason for writing under the name of a famous person is that the name carried with it a certain sense of authority. As for the letters written in the name of Paul, most scholars believe that the authors represent a theological school of thought that is linked to the person named.  Thus, the author of the Ephesian letter is seeking to represent to a second generation church the tradition of Paul’s theology.  One of the questions that lies behind the debate over authorship is the identity of Paul. Especially in regard to issues relating to women and to slavery, the Ephesian letter, along with Colossians and the three pastoral letters, seem to have a more rigid or conservative sense to them. This more culturally rigid position seems to stand in contrast to what one finds in the Galatian letter or even the Corinthian letters. By removing Paul from authorship of these discomforting texts, Paul begins to look more progressive (see the arguments in Borg and Crossan The First Paul, 29-58).

• Because there is debate as to the identity of the author of this letter, with many scholars suggesting that the letter was written after Paul’s death in Paul’s name by an associate of Paul’s, how do you feel about the idea of pseudonymity? If this letter is pseudonymous, does that knowledge change how you read and use the letter? Would knowing that it was common practice to write under a pseudonym affect the way you read the text?

Excerpts from Ephesians: A Participatory Study Guide (Energion Publications, 2010).  For more information about the book see the publisher's page. 

Called to Testify -- A Lectionary Meditation

Isaiah 49:1-7



1 Corinthians 1:1-9

John 1:29-42

Called to Testify

I’m aware that this weekend the nation I call home will honor the memory and legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. We will observe this moment with a cloud hanging over us, the cloud of an attack on a Congresswoman that left six dead, including a nine-year-old girl who was committed to creating a better world. This attack on one of our nation’s brightest leaders reminds us of the darkness that is present in the world. It was a darkness that Dr. King testified against with words and with deeds. In the end, he was assassinated, but his message lives on in the hearts of those who will hear this voice. Dr. King began his career as a civil rights leader, speaking out clearly against segregation and discrimination that was rife in our land. As time went on, he expanded his message to include giving voice to the concerns of those caught in poverty, and he lent his voice in support of the effort to end the war in Vietnam. Martin Luther King was a prophet deeply rooted in what is known as the Social Gospel. He understood that while sin was present in the heart of the individual, it was also present in the systems of society. One could not change the realities of life, without changing the systems of oppression. He was one who heard the call to bear witness to God’s love for the entirety of creation.

It is with the vigil for those wounded and killed in Tucson on our minds, along with the observance of Dr. King’s birthday, that we come to these three texts scheduled for the Second Sunday after Epiphany. These texts, each in their own way, remind us that this is a season where we focus on the ways in which God is manifest in the world in and through Jesus Christ. These passages of Scripture speak of our calling to bear witness to this presence in the world, to lift up the light that is God’s presence, and make this light known to the nations. As I read these three texts together, I hear in the first passage, from Isaiah, a statement concerning God’s providence in choosing – in the original context – Israel to bear witness of God’s goodness to the nations. From there we turn to Paul who reminds us that we have been gifted for this calling to bear witness, and finally we hear the witness of John the Baptist and Andrew to the mission and purpose of Jesus of Nazareth.

In Isaiah 49 we encounter once again the words of this prophet of the Babylonian exile, who speaks of God’s providential choice to call him (or is it Israel itself?) to this ministry of witness. Whether the intended recipient of this call is the prophet, Israel, Jesus, or even we who hear the call of God in our own time, the call is to be God’s servant, and the call has come even before birth. As is often the case, the prophet protests the call, though in this case it appears that the prophet feels as if the effort has proven to be in vain – “I have spent my strength for nothing and vanity.” Although at first blush, the prophet feels as if all of this has been in vain, the prophet is reminded that God is with this cause. And the nature of the cause? Not just to bring back the survivors of Israel to their ancestral home – the opening lines remind us of the scattering of Israel – that would be too easy, too “light a thing.” No, God would gather the people to their homeland so that they might be a light to the nations, so that God’s “salvation shall reach the ends of the earth.” Then, the nations would bow before the Lord and bring glory to God. This is the intent of God, as understood by this prophet, who sees more for God’s people than simply existing as a small country in a big world.

If Isaiah speaks of God’s intention to prepare a people to bear witness to God’s presence, then Paul takes up the issue of means. That is, Paul opens his letter to the Corinthian church, whom he speaks of as having been “called to be God’s people” in Jesus Christ. Having received this call, they have been “made rich through him in everything.” That is, they are not missing any spiritual gifts necessary so that they might bear witness about Christ until the time of his revealing. And this calling, for which they have been properly gifted or equipped (and Paul talks in great detail later in this letter about the nature of this giftedness), they are “called to partnership with his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.” This is an important word, this word about partnership. It’s a reminder that the life of faith isn’t a passive one. It’s not something that we simply let God do to us or through us, but which involves us in active participation. We’re not simply tubes through which God’s love passes through to our neighbors, without any input on our part (see Tom Oord, The Nature of Love, Chalice Press, p. 37). God has chosen to use us and to equip us, so that a light might be shared with the nations.

Finally we reach John’s gospel, which revisits Jesus’ baptism and calling by John and the calling of the first disciples. This passage from John’s Gospel pictures John the Baptist standing with two of his own disciples, and declaring to them: “Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the World!” In making this testimony to Jesus, John submits his own ministry to that of Jesus. His baptism had been one of water, but it was a baptism that prepared the way for the one on whom the Spirit rested. Yes, this is God’s Son. Hearing this testimony, the two disciples leave John and go to Jesus. I’m not sure whether this was John’s intent, but the two disciples seemed to understand that if they were going to remain engaged in this work of God, then they would need to attach themselves to the one to whom John had borne witness. Having made a connection with Jesus, Andrew, one of these two former disciples of John, goes to his brother, Simon, and bears witness to what he has seen and discovered in Jesus. John points to Jesus and says – “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the World.” There he is, the one who will restore justice and mercy in the world, but the use of the imagery of the lamb takes to the end of the gospel, where Jesus becomes the Passover lamb. At this moment, the takeaway by Andrew is that “We have found the Messiah.” And when he makes this discovery he feels compelled to share it with his brother, and Simon, himself, feels compelled to come to Jesus. In response, Jesus puts his claim on Simon by giving him a new name – Cephas or Peter. I find it interesting that John makes the translation from Aramaic to Greek, but the imagery of this name change is left ambiguous. Unlike Matthew, we’re not given Simon’s confession (Matthew 16:16), but obviously in John’s mind, something happened in this exchange that placed the mantle on this new disciple.

So here is the question for us this day – to what have we been called to testify? What is this calling, and what are the gifts?

Adventurous Theology #10: A Never Ending Story (Bruce Epperly)

The journey through Acts is nearing its end -- that is, the exploration of the adventurous spirit that pervades Luke's description of the early church's journey comes to an end in this posting.  Bruce Epperly has taken us from Ascension to Paul's prison cell, noting here in the end that "God is still speaking."  There is one last post to consider -- next week -- that reflects on Acts 29, our continued writing of the story of this faith journey.  I invite you to consider with Bruce what the Spirit is doing in the world and in the church as, to quote (as Bruce does) Doug Pagitt, we live out a "Christianity Worth Believing."

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Adventurous Theology #10:

A Never Ending Story

Acts, Chapters 21-28

Bruce G. Epperly

Acts of the Apostles comes to an end with a travelogue descriptive of Paul’s journey to Rome. But, the final words, describing Paul’s preaching from prison in terms of “boldness and without hindrance,” suggest that Acts is but the beginning of a spiritual adventure that shapes us today. What’s to hinder us from embracing God’s world of wonders, unity with strangers, mystical experiences, and unexpected power and energy in our time? Open to God’s spirit, we have everything we need to be God’s ambassadors and healers in our time.

Paul’s future, even in prison, and our own is open and undecided. We are making it up as we go along, beneficiaries of Paul’s innovative ministry to the non-Jewish world. Signs and wonders abound when we commit ourselves to going deeper in our experience of God and God’s mission in the world. God is alive, doing a new thing, and inviting us to be creative as well.

The final chapters of Acts could be described as “ponderings on a faith journey.” Paul travels from place to place, sharing the good news of the new beginnings, inspired and energized by the living presence of the Risen One. Christ’s resurrection is not only a past event to Paul, but the source of confidence and spiritual power in the present moment. Christ has brought a new energy and new possibilities into the world, spiritually, metaphysically, and physically. While we cannot fully assess the power of the resurrection, its impact on Jesus’ first followers was holistic; it created a new vision of reality that encompassed every aspect of life. Just as the enlightenment of Buddha injected new spiritual possibilities, the life, teaching, death, and resurrection of Jesus changed the course of history and God’s relationship to the world. God’s attitude toward the world did not change – as John 3:16 notes, the coming of Christ is the manifestation of God’s love, not its cause or inspiration. Rather, Jesus’ life opens the door for new divine possibilities in our world.

The final chapters of Acts join action and testimony. Paul’s theology is holistic: the author of Acts records Paul’s narrative of his encounter with the living Christ in these final eight chapters. Paul’s theology encompasses his whole being: it creatively synthesizes the Jewish tradition, his mystical encounter with the living Christ, and the emerging Christian understanding of the meaning of Jesus in light of God’s revelation in Judaism and in the wider world. Paul’s own synthetic faith encompasses body, mind, spirit, and relationships. It is far from being purely cerebral or intellectual, but integrates his Damascus Road experience with the ongoing movements of the Spirit in his life. This is the way good theology should be – the isolated academic discipline of theology would have been an anomaly to Paul and the Parents of Christian theology. For them, theology was rooted in and connected to vital Christian experience. Theology, indeed, gave meaning and context to experience, shaped experience, and was shaped by experience – personal and communal.

Today’s emerging Christianity is seeking to replicate this same theological-experiential dynamic in its quest to join “ancient” and “future” in an evolving “now.” Like the first Christians, many emergents are seeking to create a theology that gives meaning and provides an evolving context for their current faith experiences. Such a theology must include reflections on “a Christianity worth believing” (Pagitt) in light of the end of the American empire, the internet and beyond, and global spiritualities. This is theology in the making – highly experiential, yet in need of enough tradition and enough imagination to provide an evolving spiritual home for seekers within and beyond the church.

At times, Paul must have been astounded by his own journey – inspired at every step by a living Spirit, pushing the boundaries of past belief systems, and learning to adapt to the Gentile world. Paul brilliantly joined order and novelty in the creation a good enough theology for the Gentile world. Belief in the living Christ along with a handful of foundational Jewish behaviors was “good enough” to insure the well-being of new Christians and their communities. While he may not have intended it, Paul laid the groundwork for theological, liturgical, ecclesiastical, and experiential diversity by his innovative synthesis of tradition and novelty. Christianity no longer could be identified with a few sacred spaces and holy lands, now all lands could be holy and all spaces sacred. Accordingly, indigenous faiths of all kinds could emerge and have emerged throughout Christian history. Hardly a fundamentalist, Paul laid the foundations for the evolution of Christianity, emerging in time and place and embracing the Living Christ, the God of Christ, and the victory over death in dialogue with culture and community.

The final words of this “unhindered” gospel remind us that we are part of this story. As the United Church of Christ proclaims, “God is still speaking.” When we understand the word “speaking” holistically, we see God’s voice as more than a matter of word and doctrine, but an energy and vibration, creatively and intentionally moving through all things, personal and global, touching each thing in light of its responsibility to the whole. Many voices compose the chorus of revelation. But, the many are inspired by a personal voice that honors uniqueness yet pushes us toward community.

As we conclude our journey through the Acts of the Apostles, it is clear that God’s call is global as well as intimate. Paul goes out into the world; and faithfulness challenges us to be world-oriented as well. Just as Paul did not fully know where he was going, we must look in a mirror dimly as we consider the future of Christianity. We know that the future of our faith must be global, for the earth and humankind are in jeopardy. Salvation must heed the cries of creation (Romans 8) as well as our own inner urgings. Honoring one another, we must find our pathways into the world – pathways that join personal experience, encounters with the holy, agile theological reflection, and commitment to strangers, neighbors, and the good earth – as we seek to share life-transforming words of God in our time and place. We are God’s partners in a never-ending journey.

Bruce Epperly is Professor of Practical Theology and Director of Continuing Education at Lancaster Theological Seminary. He is the author of 17 books, including Holy Adventure: 41 Days of Audacious Living and Tending to the Holy: The Practice of the Presence of God in Ministry.

Adventurous Theology #9: Christ in a Pluralistic Age (Bruce Epperly)

When Paul was on his missionary journeys through Asia Minor, Macedonia, and Greece, one of the stops along the way was Athens.  Athens was at that time one of the great centers of learning.  It was a cosmopolitan place.  It no longer had the political and military power that it had many centuries earlier, but it still was an educational and religious center.  Athens might be an equivalent to San Francisco.  The people there were open minded and eager to learn, but also quite willing to challenge people.  For Paul this was a place of overwhelming pluralism, but he found a point of contact wherein he was able to share his faith.  As Bruce Epperly nears the end of his journey with us through Acts, he takes us to Athens.  I invite you to consider his reflections.

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Adventurous Theology #9:

Christ in a Pluralistic Age

Acts 17:16-20:16

Bruce Epperly

Acts of the Apostles is an adventure that encompasses geography and spirituality. You can take a spiritual journey without leaving home, or you can be utterly bored on a holiday. In the case of Peter and Paul, adventure waited around every turn as God’s spirit propelled them forward to adventures of ideas, healing, and spiritual growth. Paul’s missionary adventure takes him to Athens, the hub of intellectual and cultural life in the Mediterranean world. As he strolls through the Areopagus, the marketplace of ideas, Paul experiences the pluralism of his time in all its glory. Statues abound and conversation is heard on every possible theme. Novelty is the name of the name of the game as new ideas emerge on a day to day basis. Everyone, the author notes, seeks to hear or tell something new.

In many ways, the scene at the Areopagus mirrors our time in which spiritual journeys and eclectic world views and practices abound. While many decry this as “cafeteria Catholicism,” “the spiritual smorgasbord,” or “designer religion,” the truth is that our cultural pluralism is challenging all of us to “make it [our spirituality] up as we go along.” Healthy spirituality involves dialogue and the embrace of pluralism, and not its denial, or a regression to the old time religion. Still, Paul’s distress is appropriate: as people run to and fro in search of the latest spiritual teaching or teacher, or guru who will promise enlightenment and prosperity in a handful of easy lessons, Paul – and many of us today – recognize that healthy spirituality involves depth as well as breadth. It awakens us to infinite possibility while rooting us in the concreteness of daily life. Christ opens us to pluralism, but also enables us to integrate new ideas and practices around a creative and growing spiritual center.

In his speech to the Athenians, Paul’s gives us a glimpse of his universalist theology – for Paul, Christ is not merely a parochial Galilean figure, located in space and time; he is the incarnation of God’s creative love, from which the world emerges and through which all things are reconciled. Paul would feel comfortable with the Prologue of John’s gospel and its ecstatic proclamation of God’s Creative Wisdom/Word that brings forth and enlightens all things. Paul’s vision of the universality of Christ is reflected in his much quoted affirmation of the Hellenistic philosophy of his time: God in the one “in whom we live and move and have our being.” No Deist, who consigns God to the fringes of life, Paul sees God moving through every breath and every encounter. In the Spirit of Romans 8, God moves through the non-human and human creation, interceding within us in sighs too deep for words.

Paul rightly critiques the many representations of God he observes: though he affirms God’s incarnation in the world – “the word made flesh” – he is equally cognizant of God’s grandeur. God is always more than we can imagine. God cannot be contained in any shrine or statue made by human hand. Here the kataphatic, God is present in all things, is joined with the apophatic, God is more than anything we can imagine. This is the yin and yang of theology and spirituality – we have a treasure (indeed, it has transformed our lives and awakened us to holy places) but this treasure is revealed in earthen vessels. The glory goes to God not to our concepts or representations of God.

Still, God is here – as near as our breath – inspiring people of every culture to seek God’s creative wisdom. While Paul proclaims the fullness of revelation in Jesus of Nazareth, the Christ, he is – in contrast to Karl Barth – affirming that there is a “point of contact” everywhere between God and the world. Even our idols, that is, our localizing of God in space and time through nationalistic loyalties and religious rituals, is inspired by God’s presence in our lives.

These idols both reflect and conceal God’s presence, and need to be cleansed of their particularity so loyalty to one path opens us to a diversity of divine paths.

Pluralism inspires mission, though the not the mission of “us versus them” or “I have it and you don’t.” It is the mission of sharing good news that we already know deep down, but haven’t yet experienced consciously. It is the mission of inviting us to be part of God’s holy adventure in the unfolding history of people in all times and places. Christ within us lures us forward toward what we can become through divine inspiration and grace.

Christ’s good news partners must take culture seriously; they must affirm other faiths in light of what they have experienced in Christ. They must share good news that meets the longings of persons in our pluralistic, post-modern age, rather than denying or demeaning the spiritual quests of our time.

The Spirit that moves through all things inspires Paul’s journey throughout the Mediterranean world. Mysticism continues to lead to mission in Corinth, Ephesus, Macadonia, and Galatia. Paul speaks but also acts, mediating healing power to persons in need.

The Areopagus is our world today. We are people at the margins, but the margins can become the frontiers; the mission field is here; many gods abound and vie for our attention. Our task is to affirm wisdom where we find it – to honor the diversity – yet share the grace we have experienced, the Creative Wisdom of Christ, embodied in all things and inspiring all things.

Bruce Epperly is Professor of Practical Theology and Director of Continuing Education at Lancaster Theological Seminary. He is the author of 17 books, including Holy Adventure: 41 Days of Audacious Living and Tending to the Holy: The Practice of the Presence of God in Ministry.

Adventurous Theology #8: Making It Up as You Go Along (Bruce Epperly)

The Book of Acts tells the amazing story of how a small group of Jesus' followers are empowered to take the message of God's grace to the world.  There is something about this story that leads onlookers to conclude that they're in the process of "turning the world upside down."  As we move through this story, with increasing rapidity, we come to Paul's missions to the Gentile world.  There we see God working in powerful ways through him and his companions.  I invite you to share in this meditation provided by Bruce Epperly. 

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Adventurous Theology #8:

Making It Up as You Go Along

Acts 13:1-17:15

Bruce G. Epperly

These chapters and the whole of the Acts of the Apostles could be summarized by the words, “these people who have been turning the world upside down.” (Acts 17:6) Mysticism and mission turn our lives around and set us on unexpected adventures that change us and the communities of which we are a part. When the Spirit touches us, we begin to embody Paul’s words in Romans 12:2, “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds.” This “world” can be described in terms of whatever limits we, or others, have placed on ourselves, our communities, or God’s movements in our lives.

Creative transformation becomes a day to day experience, once we open to the movements of the Spirit. Small steps of spiritual growth lead to larger steps as a whole new world of possibility opens up for us. When we pause and open to God’s Spirit, God is able to present us with larger possibilities for ourselves and our world. Acts moves at a dizzying pace as the once local Christian movement becomes global. Our lives expand in new directions, with new energies and new insights, when we open the door to divine possibility.

Paul and his colleagues are “chosen” for an adventure in good news sharing. As the 1 Corinthians 12 image of the body of Christ proclaims, all followers of Jesus – and I believe all persons - are chosen and have many vocations. But, Divine Creative Wisdom can work in unique and powerful ways in certain persons’ lives. The God in whom we live and move and have our being (Acts 17:28) is not a homogeneous force, but more active in some places than others. This is a result, I believe, of both divine call and human response, of divine and human choice and creativity. Our responses over a lifetime enable God to be more active in our lives. In Paul’s case, his Jewish legal background, intellectual acumen, and fidelity to the faith of his parents, made him a unique vehicle of divine grace. The power that energized his persecution was transformed to give energy to his proclamation and inclusion of the Gentile world.

Still, it is important to note that although Paul’s primary mission was to Gentile world, he still affirmed his Jewish roots. God moved through his life as a Jewish person, not a person in general. His message to the Gentiles finds its gravitas in the faith of his parents. Revelation is always universal, but it is also situational and personal. Paul’s words in Romans, chapters 9-11, reflect his belief that God’s covenantal love for the Jewish people still stands, despite the failure of some to accept Jesus as Messiah. Paul’s warmth toward, and affirmation of, his Jewish roots is an antidote to anti-Judaism in scripture and Christian practice. Words like “the Jews” as used throughout the gospels and even in Acts are misleading and inaccurate when used to describe certain Jewish persons’ disbelief: Jesus’ first followers were Jewish and throughout Acts, Jewish men and women proclaim the good news and accept God’s revelation in Christ. One of most important obligations we have as Christians is to challenge anti-Judaism as a “theological hate crime” whenever it is invoked.

Throughout Acts, chapters 13 to 17, God’s Spirit moves quietly, yet persistently, coming to Jesus’ followers through intuitions (Acts 16:7) and visions (Acts 16:9) that both caution and inspire. These “sighs too deep for words” (Romans 8:26) emerge from the world of dreams, hunches, synchronicities, visions, and paranormal experiences. While persons today may – and should often – be inclined to be skeptical or at least questioning of such experiences, the experience of countless people indicates that there is a web of revelation, democratic in nature, that touches each person. If God, moment by moment, seeks to inspire us with possibilities congruent with our particular situation, then divine inspiration may include both intuitive glimpses of the interdependent web of life as well as guidance and energy. These are not supernatural but part of deeper naturalism in which God is moving through all things, and all things dynamically connected with one another. Paranormal experiences may emerge from our attentiveness to or the graceful breaking through of the dynamic interconnectedness of life, always shaping our experience in its depths.

The presence of the Spirit gives us confidence in times of stress. The Spirit reminds us that the world is larger than our particular situation or health condition. Paul and Silas pray and sing hymns to God as witness to a larger vision of life that cannot be encompassed or limited by prison walls. (Acts 16:25) Their experience reminds me of the gentle courage revealed in the hymn “How Can I Keep from Singing?” – Tyrants may try to silence protest, disease may weaken the body, but the Spirit shows us a far horizon whose pathway and destination is Love. Surely, this quiet and persistent Spirit sustained and inspired Nelson Mandela on Robben Island, Martin Luther King in the Birmingham Jail, Mahatma Gandhi in his fasts and imprisonment. When we sing, we “pray twice” and give witness to God’s grace in the midst of strife and illness. With the Spirit as our companion, there is always something more to us and to the world than meets the eye. Open to God’s Spirit, we discover resources for healing, courage, and confidence in every moment of life.

Bruce Epperly is Professor of Practical Theology and Director of Continuing Education at Lancaster Theological Seminary. He is the author of 17 books, including Holy Adventure: 41 Days of Audacious Living and Tending to the Holy: The Practice of the Presence of God in Ministry.

The Lord’s Table: A Place of Community

On Saturday our Elders will gather for a retreat and I'll be leading a conversation about the Eucharist or Lord's Table -- as a Christian communion, the Disciples are fairly unique in that lay elders offer the prayer(s) of consecration for the Supper. As I'm preparing for this, I'm putting together a few pieces or reflections.  Since the Table can easily become a very "private" affair between me and Jesus, it's important to remember the communal context.

There is, of course, a place for meditation and reflection at the Table, but the Table was instituted in a communal setting. Until the middle ages, when Transubstantiation fully took hold in the Western Church, the Lord’s Supper was always taken in the context of a community. If we are to truly understand the meaning and value of the Supper, we must remember this context.

Canadian theologian Douglas John Hall provides good insight into this communal element:

The community enacts its unity with its head its members with one another. Partaking of the one cup and the one loaf, the members, “though man,” as Paul says, affirm and are confirmed in their oneness.”

This interpretation of the Eucharist calls in question all privatistic practices of the sacrament. The communion is a corporate act, and even when it must be administered apart from the worshiping community, the latter as in the case of baptism, ought certainly to be represented. This corporateness seems to me more important than whether one regards th Eucharist from the vantage point o of the tradition of transubstantiation, the mediating position of consubstantiation, or the Zwinglian symbolic or memorial conception. The critical question is not the substantialistic one (whether the bread becomes body, where the wine becomes blood); it is, rather, the relational question: How does the Sacramental function sustain the community? (Douglas John Hall, Confessing the Faith: Christian Theology in a North American Context, Fortress Press, 1996, pp. 114-115).

Thus, the point of the Eucharist isn’t creating pieces of Jesus in the form of bread (forgive the crudity of my statement), but creating community, which reflects and embodies the person of Jesus in the world.

If the Table is a communal act, it requires the presence of community. Even when we take the Supper to the shut-in, we do so understanding that in taking the bread and cup in the home or the hospital, we gather as an extension of the larger body.

This concern for the community is reflected in Paul’s discussion of the celebration of the Supper in 1 Corinthians 11. It is in this chapter that Paul lays out the words of institution – for the first time.  Paul writes:

This is why those who eat the bread or drink the cup of the Lord inappropriately will be guilty of the Lord’s body and blood. Each individual should test himself or herself, and eat from the bread and drink from the cup in that way. Those who eat and drink without correctly understanding the body are eating and drinking their own judgment. Because of this, many of you are weak and sick, and quite a few have died. . . . If some of you are hungry, they should eat at home so that getting together doesn’t lead to judgment. (1 Corinthians 11:27-34a Common English Bible).

Paul has been, traditionally, interpreted here as referring to the mystical body of Christ in the elements – thus giving rise to the doctrine of real presence and then transubstantiation. But, I think that the Common English Bible makes it as clear as possible, that the point is understanding the body of Christ as the congregation. By acting in a way that dishonors the community, leading to drunkenness and hunger, the community had dishonored the one who called them to the table. There is little of the mystical here, but much that is concerned about the behavior of those who gather at the table.