Digging In:   John 9

One of the Marvelous Happenings in the Life of Jesus

Exegetical Interpretation, Focusing on Christian Challenge/Reform and Worship
With a Timely, Eulogistic Postscript

John 9 has long been a favorite chapter, and it’s not because I memorized it as a child or because it was read at a family funeral.  This chapter is of deep impact on me because the story highlights Jesus in a way that simply won’t let me go.

While it would have been nice, I suppose, to have a true essay worked out, I would need more time for that, “living with” the text for a period of weeks or even months.  I trust that it will be beneficial to see the process of asking questions of the text, not only the reaching of conclusions.

Method  Ideally, I would start with two or more readings of the entire gospel, in different versions — perhaps one with more of a sentence-for-sentence orientation, and another, more of an expansive paraphrase.   Initially, my method was simple:  to read/refresh myself on the whole of chapter 9, and jotting questions I had while reading.  The “first pass” through chapter 9 resulted in the need for a second pass.  Within about an hour and a half total, I had approximately two pages of notes/questions.  (An irresistible 3rd pass is yielding almost as many additional questions and brought tears to my eyes, but the new material will have to wait.)  For sake of brevity — ha! — I am selecting only a portion of these questions to blogshare (to coin a term).

Book-level questions

Bypassing for the moment the typical, academic, background questions that are important but are more stock-in-trade (author, date and place of writing, audience, etc.), I ask such things as these, from a perspective that is mostly “zoomed out” on the entire gospel of John:

• What special features can be found in John’s vocabulary and literary style?
• Within the whole gospel, does chapter 9 constitute a bona fide pericope?  Does John use pericopes as, say, Matthew does?
• What is the relationship of blindness and sin for John?
• How does God the Father relate to Jesus in the narrative?  Is Jesus called “Son of Man” earlier? later? throughout? often?
• How does John’s stated purpose (20:30-31) relate, or not, to key aspects found in this passage, such as spiritual blindness, sin, coming to faith, and worship?  How might belief in 9:35-36 be tied to the overall, stated purpose?

Smaller-context questions

Now zooming in more to the immediate context:

• Where are we in the progression of John’s narrative when we reach the events of chapter 9?  What occurs immediately before, and immediately after?  (The answer to these questions may be singularly significant.)
• Check 9:1-2 for chiastic structure.  (Note the three mentions of blindness.)
• Note the various portrayals in this chapter:  disciples, Jews, neighbors, Pharisees, and the man.  (Larger question:  how is each group painted in John overall, as compared to Mark?)
• What is the relationship of blindness and sin for each of the above people/groups?
• Could there be a larger inclusio from 9:1-34 (“the Jews’” idea of sin as bookends)?
• Note the relationship between eyesight and light and works, as in verse 4.
• Is “Siloam” Aramaic?  Translation relationship to Greek “apostle”?  Any significance to be found in Jewish background there — either with the Siloam pool or with the use of the word in OT texts?  What is John saying by inserting the definition of the word?
• Chiasm in 9:13-16 vicinity (Pharisees, had been blind, Jesus, mud ==> Sabbath, Pharisees <== mud, Jesus, see, Pharisees/Sabbath). Yes? Investigate.
• Examine the use of “disciples” in 9:27-28 vs. its use in John overall.
• How does the Father God figure in to this story?
  • What do “the Jews” and the Pharisees think of Him?  How do they “use” Him? (vv. 16, 24, 29)
  • What does the blind man think of Him?  (9:31, 33)
  • What could be made out of the fact that Jesus mentions God early in the story but not later?
• Hermeneutically speaking, are questions (such as the above group) significant from both John’s and the first readers’ points of view?  Does John show any bias or agenda that his first-century readers would naturally share, or naturally be resistant to?  How is God potentially working through John to say what needs to be said?  And how do these answers affect my own point of view?
• What is the significance of the label “Son of Man” in this particular text?  (It seems significant for John in the ultimate responsiveness of the [formerly] blind man.)  (9:35)
• There appears to be a mirroring mini-chiasm in 9:39:  blind ==> see; see <== blind?  Do “judgment” and “guilt” complete this mini-structure?
• Note some striking, possibly unusual, recurring, or significant vocabulary words and phrases in NASB:  blind, works of God, displayed, Light of the world, spit, seeing, eyes opened/opened my eyes (vv. 10, 13, 17, 30, 32), mud, miraculous signs, prophet, put out of the synagogue, “give glory to God,” disciples.

Musings  Some musings and commentary stem from these types of questions!

I.  In terms of challenge to the status quo and religious power structures … it seems to me that there are battles presented in this chapter — a battle of people and cliques, a battle of systems, and ultimately, a battle of and for the Kingdom.  Clearly, the Jews and the Pharisees are the “conservatives” here, resisting challenge and change — while the simple facts of the blind man’s story necessitate, on the other hand, that traditional viewpoints are challenged.

Although the connection of blindness and sin might be an easy target for preachers of sermons, one should not dive into a topical sermon that uses a snippet of John 9 without first knowing a good deal about the context(s) here.  We could not, in other words, legitimately draw any conclusions about the equation of spiritual blindness and sin without knowing more of how John the inspired writer uses and develops those ideas (or doesn’t) within the literary context.  Just as significant would be some cultural insights — related, for example, to blindness, begging, synagogue norms, Pharisees, and more.  This area, like so many others, requires more investigation.

It has long seemed to me that the parents in this story are presented as weak and sniveling.  (Textual clues gained in further investigation could bolster or counter this impression.)  Out of fear, they deflect attention and responsibility.  On the other hand, the “Pharisees” and “Jews” groups are not “weak,” but they are in some sense blind and foolish.  Note, for example, that they pronounce a cloudy half-truth regarding Jesus and the Sabbath in v. 16, and they resort to name-calling in v. 34.  The Jews in power are more interested in protecting their system than in avowing the obvious wonder that has just occurred at the hands of Jesus.  From their standpoint, 1) Jesus is a threat, and 2) the now-seeing man — although formerly negligible — may now be a threat, too.

Something that struck me 25 years ago, and still strikes me today (and here, I hope I’m not just coddling my earlier reading) is this:  the Pharisees could not even see, much less accept, the God-glorifying miracle that had obviously occurred because they were too invested in protecting their empire.  John presents unadorned facts in v. 7 (that the man “returned seeing”) and in v. 9 (that he kept saying “I am the one”).  Waxing prophetic, I would assert that the implications of the Pharisees’ stubbornness here are momentous for institutional Christendom, and for various cliques and sects.  Could the Pharisees legitimately be seen to represent some of the entrenched “clergy” of later eras?  The implicit warning echoes through the centuries:  Watch out that you’re not building your own structures, and pay attention to the work of God, or else you may be found blindly rejecting Him.

In contrast to the Pharisees and the parents stands the blind man.  I would imagine that a Jewish person reading or hearing John’s gospel would find intense irony here:  the blind man appears as largely a positive example, although he would previously have been a worthless drain on society — a mere opportunity to be seen giving alms!  Initially, the man is trusting and obedient.  He also makes an ostensibly false assumption:  that “God does not hear sinners.”  No, he doesn’t quite “get” everything about Jesus yet (no one could), but he is open, and he is coming to faith.  (Who wouldn’t be experiencing new things after having been given sight?!)  Not only can he see the ground in front of him for the first time in his life, but he is beginning to see who and what Jesus is.  An encouraging message surfaces:  that one can travel the road of discipleship, progressively coming to see more truth.

II. In terms of worship … the response seems so beautifully unfeigned and unaffected — the man simply worships, when confronted with the truths that Jesus is 1) from God and 2) able to work miracles.  (Let alone, for now, the question of the meaning of “Son of Man.”)  The antecedent worship word here is proskuneo, which

• is not inherently a “religious” thing to do
• means “kissing toward” as an act of homage, and implies bowing down
• has nothing directly to do with so-called whole-life worship
• is rather the simple act of response — by one who recognizes greatness far beyond oneself

Letting alone the so-called worship wars of our times, and jettisoning any historical connections related to liturgy/”services,” or checking off items on a list on Sunday mornings, or any other corruptions of biblical worship ideals, we see worship, pure and simple, in this text.  We see that an unconstrained person, when he observes the reality of Jesus, worships.

And that is a beautiful precedent that both instructs and compels.  Lord, may we.

~ ~ ~

Postscript

It worked out to honor my grandfather, Andy T. Ritchie Jr., by publishing my blogpost #1000 on this, the 104th anniversary of his birth.  (I even set the posting time as 19:09 CDT, the year of his birth, but this part is useless trivia.) 

Andy Thomas Ritchie, Jr., son of Andy T., Sr. and Fannie Mae Cobb Ritchie, was born and raised in the Nashville, Tenn., area.  He married Kathryn Delma Cullum in 1933; the pair had four children — Andy T. III, Edward, Bettye, and Joan.  I am #7 of 10 grandchildren, and there are 29 great-grandchildren.

Granddaddy taught music at David Lipscomb College and Bible and music at Harding College.  (Both later become universities.)  He was a concert singer who recorded an album in addition to his performing on stage and on radio.  He influenced thousands through his

• personal conversations and correspondence
• leadership of personal evangelism meetings and “lily pool” hymn sings on the Harding campus
• direction of the Harding Chorus for several years
• much-remembered classroom teaching (see here for an external mention)
• inimitable, compelling leadership of worship  in song, and preaching — in his own congregation, and in other states
• manner of living life

I think Granddaddy would have appreciated a good deal of what I’ve written on this blog to date, although certainly not all.  He himself wasn’t known for his writing as much as for his leadership in other veins, but he did publish articles in multiple periodicals and wrote a full-length book on worship.  I imagine that, were he alive today, he would also have expressed being inspired by John 9, and would have appreciated my exegetical efforts, along with the highlighting of the challenge of the (Jewish) status quo.  (Therein, certain goals of the Restoration Movement which influenced both of us are also highlighted.)  Granddaddy probably would have appreciated most the emphasis on the worship of God the Son, as seen in this compelling story.

Believe it or not, one of the more memorable aspects of Andy T. Ritchie, Jr., almost eluded mention until the fourth draft of this postscript.  He was severely sight-impaired for the last 20 years of his adult life, having suffered detached retinas related to diabetes, and later became legally blind.  This mention of his blindness, written after the main portion of this post, leads me to include, here, a prayer song I wrote for a family reunion some years ago.  Please take a moment to read at least the words of Lord, I Want To See.  (A sound file may be downloaded by clicking this link.)

Granddaddy entered the land of the eternally living and seeing in 1983.

Some of the stats are silly, like “first player ever wearing the number 40 to weigh 40 pounds more than he weighted in his rookie year, while stealing 40 bases in a season.”  Others log bona fide accomplishments, like “hitting for the cycle,” batting over .300 for ten seasons in a row, pitching a no-hitter, committing no errors in an entire season, or winning the Triple Crown (for leading a league in batting average, hits, HRs, and RBIs).  Another type of stat in baseball is the milestone — e.g., getting 3,000 hits, or 200 wins by pitchers.

Speaking of stats . . . as I prepare to touch my toe to the 1000-blogpost milestone, I take a moment.  A moment to think about the last five years — with 95% of the posts in the last four years, since the life-changing birth of our son.  I’ve probably spent more time than I should have on blogging, and yet there have been times that I would have dried up emotionally and spiritually without this outlet.  I’m thankful for it.

I think of the countless edits — even the compulsive error-correction, that no one will ever know of, sometimes accomplished long after the publication of a post.  I think of the handy WordPress app on my smartphone, allowing me to make minor edits and even write short posts there, if I choose.  I think of the posts shared with others — those that have drawn new e-acquaintances, those that have challenged or annoyed friends whose faces I know, and those (probably most!) that have not been read by all that many folks.  I think of the patient interest of my wife, who regularly reads and listens to so many thoughts from this blog.  By the way, I’ve recently updated my brief bio/profile; if you’re interested in that, go here.

I think of the main thrusts of these ‘blogged public writings.  Of course there have been other therapeutic pieces that never were posted or shared with anyone, and one post back there somewhere is password-protected, because I ended up wanting not to share my very intense thoughts that day.  (This is one reason I assigned the numbers 999a and 999b — because there’s actually one of the 1000 that no one can get to.)

Most of my writing has been in three areas of focus, to which I remain committed:

1.  Christian Reform & Restoration 

(categories:  American Restoration Movement (Stone-Campbell), Biblical (or abiblical doctrine), Assembly, Church tradition and practice (and the church values series), Voices, Clergy-laity system, Leadership, Christian living

Toward these worthy goals, I often challenge the status quo.  I do not always do this well, but I do it with persistent conviction.  I write about the church groups I visit for various reasons, and I write about the churches of my past.  I write about things I hear from others who have been weaned on other traditions.  I’m invigorated by writing about restoration of the ancient order.  I’m periodically intrigued, or intolerant, or even incensed, always inclined to think out loud independently . . . but I’m never infallible.

I write about doctrines that make sense, some that don’t make sense, and some that make partial sense.  I write about denominations, certainly including the one of my own heritage, but I’m more interested than ever in nondenominational Christianity.  I write about Calvinism and Romanism, which I consider involve many adulterations and  hyperbolic excesses, although there are vestiges of truth in many places.  Like my son here, I believe pretty much everything deserves scrutiny and challenge for the sake of getting a better handle on it . . . and I think truth always outlasts honest investigation.

Jedd at 3.8, with Grandmothers magnifying glass

And I write about Christian practice — both in the assembly and out.  What Christian groups do when they are together can be the source of humor, inspiration, and frustration.  The “Christian living” category deals some in repentant hindsight, in encouragement of purposeful living, and in general musings about trying to follow along as a disciple of Jesus.

2.  Worship and the Assembly

(categories:  Worship, Monday music, Hymns & church music, prayer)

In support of the everlasting aspirations of worship, I have offered, for instance, the Monday Music quasi-series:  to date, 67 entries in this series, but approximately half of the total output here has had some relationship to worship, prayer, and/or the assembly of  Christians.  (Historically, aspects of both “worship” and “assembly” have been termed “the service.”  As I have written multiple times, I earnestly believe the label “service” is a hindering misnomer, when speaking of any of these things:  private or public worship, the Christian assembly or gathering, or even “liturgy.”)

I’ve written less about the deeper concepts of worship than I would have expected, and I think this avoidance stems from having personally dwelt in worship less than in several other phases of life.  Prayer has received only a modicum of focus, too; this is probably directly related to the fact that I often find prayer to be an inertia-stymied task.

3.  Biblical Studies

(categories:  Scripture [and all its book-level subcategories])

I have devoted much time to transcribing notes from group studies I have prepared, and to sharing notes from respected teachers and commentators.  I have also focused largely on exegesis.  It was no accident that one of the final posts leading up to #1000 was on exegesis.  I believe that scripture-grounded Christianity is the only valid kind of Christianity — not for the purpose of worshiping  the Bible, of course.  The Bible is not an end itself, but in studying the ancient, well-attested writings, one uncovers more of God’s intent for the early Christian community.  I grew up in a Bible-oriented congregation, and all but one church I’ve ever been a part of has paid serious attention to the scriptures on some level . . . but I now find most of the “Bible study” of my past to have been lacking in depth.  I advocate deeper, more intentional study, and I want to be both contextually responsible and devoted in my approach to biblical documents.

Yes, there are other areas I’ve dealt in besides the above three — e.g., government and Christianity, and various rants about things like cell phone laws and the misplaced apostrophes of the world.  I do have other interests and once even misused some summer hours devising a tongue-in-cheek “Shelter” for all my pet peeves.  But the things that are most important to me have gotten the most attention.  I like to call the important-stuff umbrella “Things of the Lord” or “Kingdom Matters.”  Not only my blog categories and tags, but also my thoughts and my filing systems (although not my consistent life patterns) generally reflect this priority.

God helping me, I will continue to 1) challenge the ways humans have messed up God’s intent for the Christian Way.  And I will continue to 2) pursue the One God and His true worship.  And I will continue to 3) study the scriptures seriously.

Special note:  in the next post, public post #1000, I’m going to attempt to bring these three, overarching topical areas together in one, and then I’m going to take somewhat of a break.  Regular readers will hear from me less often; for a while, any bloggings will probably be either historical re-diggings or brief thoughts.

If you’ve got a detail in a score that’s hard to hear, that’s not an excuse for not hearing it!

- Ken Ward, The Bruckner Journal, Vol. 12, No. 1 (March 2008), p. 41

Spoken with reference to complex musical texts (a/k/a “scores”), the above is also easily applicable to investigating the riches of scriptural texts.

[This is blogpost #999a.  (#999b has now been inserted, but that's a dull story.)  As I write, I have a rough idea of what #1000 will be, and then I'm going to take a break, probably posting some more "voices" from the past, things I read, etc. -- but not doing much new, original writing for a while.  I have loose plans for some beginning to write three different series, but no one will see those for weeks or maybe months.]

Anyway, it seemed appropriate that this near-last (for a while) post be on biblical exegesis — a topic close to my head and heart.  This is no primer on exegesis; I wouldn’t be able to write one if I tried.  It is merely intended to 1) motivate by highlighting the importance of the topic, and 2) offer a few particulars.

I believe that Christians should be consistently engaged in seriously investigating — and submitting to — scripture texts.  Toward that end, to state a sort of conceptual baseline:  we may not elevate any scripture text out of its historical and literary contexts, in order to respect a specific religious tradition or an individual interpretation.  Neither may we discard a text for those reasons or any others.  (The problem comes not so much in the positing or the believing or the dreaming, but in the doing.)

I suppose that, given my book-oriented Christian upbringing, I ought to feel I’ve studied scripture more than most.  But the more I come to understand the exegetical mindset and mode, the less I think I’ve actually studied scripture exegetically in the past.

Exegesis is not a particularly “religious” word but has perhaps come to be associated more with the serious study and interpretation of biblical texts than other types of texts.  Exegesis is not hermeneutics, exactly, but the two are related.  Exegesis is inextricably associated with the enterprise of digging into a specific text, and using available means to understand that text on its own terms.

One way of envisioning this type of goal is articulated by Dr. Greg Fay in his forthcoming two-volume series on the Bible (and here, I’ve taken a couple liberties with his statement):

The challenge is to stop interrupting God when He’s speaking to us — digesting scripture fully, even holistically, in its historical, literary, and sometimes very personal contexts, as if we were present in the defining moments of God’s first conversations with his people.

One way of “interrupting God” is pasting a “verse” (yanked from here or there) on top of another “verse” that comes from a completely different context.  Or, as Gary Collier’s imagery has it, we get things mixed up when we put a bunch of different text-ingredients into a blender and press “puree.”  If on the other hand we get into a single text and attempt to understand what it is about, we stand to gain immeasurably.  We may use various ways and means, including reading and re-reading the text itself, reading multiple Bible versions in English, delving into the original languages, investigating the cultural/historical background in which the text was written, highlighting recurring words, analyzing the structure of the text, reading multiple commentaries, and more.  (A sample listing of some possible exegetical tools may be found here, and a portal to many others, in the red section of this page.  A Christian college offers a master’s-level concentration in Biblical Exegesis; oh, that this were a required concentration for the majority of those training for jobs in official Christian capacities.)

When you think of exegesis, you might think “Exodus,” when the people came out of Egypt. The literal roots of the word “exegesis” have to do with being 1) guided or led 2) out of something.  So many people seem to want to read onto or into (eisegeting) instead of drawing a well-founded interpretation out of (exegeting) a text.  This trend is as disconcerting from a broad perspective as it is unhelpful to the individual who wants to continue in the way of discipleship.  Initially, at least, exegetical study is the way to go.  It does not preclude a more subjective, devotional approach, but some solely devotional approaches can be wispy and not true to the text.  It can be very exciting to dig into the original texts more intentionally, peering over the obscurant mountain built by centuries of ignorance and decades of Christian marketing.

Effort is required in digging into texts, extracting their riches.  But as the writer said in relation to a musical score, having to expend some effort for the reward is no excuse for not expending said effort.  The details can be incredibly illuminating!

One aspect of digging into some texts involves, conveniently enough, digging!  (Excavating and exploring uncharted territory may add to the imagery here.)  Biblical archaeology (which is a bit of a clumsy term that refers to excavating sites of biblical significance, not to digging into the Bible itself) can be an enticing field, and I recently had opportunity to hear Dr. John Monson in an insightful (online) lecture on the value of “Physical Theology.”  I’d like to offer the following quotes as appetite-whetters, hoping you’ll click the link below when you have time to listen to a lecture online.

Increasingly, the academy and the church are propelled by the prevailing intellectual trends of our time.  Many scholars and theologians discount such concepts as reliable history and purposeful text, while the community of faith is often complacent toward biblical context as the Bible’s central role continues to decline.

The urgent quest for personal religious experience often displaces Scripture, not to mention the archaeological and linguistic material that can elucidate and enliven the biblical text.  It is a supreme irony that the Bible’s original context is often dismissed or discounted by the academy and the church precisely at the moment that corroborative evidence abounds like never before.  – Dr. John Monson, lecture, “Physical Theology: The Bible in its Land, Time and Culture,” Feb. 11, 2012, Lanier Theological Library lecture series (web-housed recording accessed 3/13/13)

I recently spent more than an hour watching a baseball World Series game that was played more than 30 years ago.  I doubt I watched that game back when it was actually played, but in a strange way, it was more enjoyable for me than today’s games, because that game was played in my time — an era in which I related more to to pro phase of the greatest game ever invented.¹

In some areas of life, looking backward nostalgically is pleasurable.  In other areas, looking forward seems more appealing.  As you consider the first two areas below, realize that they are short sections that will be of most interest to musician-readers.  If you’re not interested in those, skip right ahead to the section my wife wrote!

Composers   Take Brahms and Wagner as examples.  Now, I pretty much detest the thought of Richard Wagner, not being an opera fan, and not being a fan of overblown megalomaniacs, either.  But I can admire his having looked ahead, creating newness within a larger art form.  I also admire Brahms, who was quite the backward thinker in terms of structure, form, and genre — but who infused so many of his works with new expressiveness.  Many other composers of art music can be analyzed in these terms:

Palestrina was probably mostly a backward-thinker.  

Bach, as much as I hate to admit it, was probably more a forward-thinker.  

Mozart and Haydn seem to have dwelt more in their present than in the future.

Dvorak and Mendelssohn seemed mostly content in past structures, infusing works with beauty that fit frameworks then current, or recently past.

Liszt did some things with the past while decidedly moving forward.

Debussy and Schönberg thought ahead (the former with more success than the latter!).

Instrumental music structures in academia today  In another area of musical life — the one in which I find my vocation — score study and rehearsal planning method “templates” are fairly standard.  Most of us approach daily life in ensembles in the same vein:  more or less, we study a score in certain ways, we prepare certain sections for the next rehearsal, and we lead our ensembles.  In contrast to this standard model comes the creative thinking of Carolyn Barber, Director of Bands at the University of Nebraska at Lincoln.  It’s outside my scope here to provide any of Barber’s details; suffice it to say that she is a forward thinker and an articulate, compelling leader.  She inspires many by looking ahead methodologically and musically.

Church values and practices.  Ever notice that some churches seem to delight in being backward, while others seem to thrill to being ahead of the curve?  The following thoughts on the church disparity are my wife’s.  I appreciate her having gotten out of her comfort zone to write them, and I am delighted to post them here.

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I like antiques.  The attraction to things of times past is somehow ingrained in me.  I find value and some bits of wisdom in the way things used to be.  Butter churns and wash boards are intriguing.  However, I’ll keep my washing machine and I’ll make butter in the blender in 40 seconds if I want to.

What about antique church?  We visited a conservative² Mennonite church this past Sunday.  Men and women sit on opposite sides, the women all wear head coverings (the majority are “Amish style”), the men all in white shirts and dark suits.  The sermon focused on the value of the printed page which, to give the guy a bit of credit, was an interestingly unusual topic.  His push to the congregation was to get each member to pass out 50 tracts a week.  His stats told him that if every one of the 60+ members would meet the quota, that there would be 2,000 responses in a year.  *sigh*  Really???

Apparently, he/they are completely unaware of what it takes to reach people in the real world in the year 2013.  I appreciate their simplicity, their sincerity, their steadfastness … but they’re like antiques.  I dare you to tell any random woman that using a washboard instead of the modern washing machine is better because its simpler!  OK, that’s not equal to differences in religion, but you get the point.

Back up two weeks.  We were in the gathering at The Journey church.  They have electric guitars, people in jeans, and a coffee bar.  Do they hand out tracts?  No way.  But people are flocking to them.

Why?…

Because they’re reinventing the way we “do” church so that people who don’t know Jesus will come looking . . . without having to worry about not “fitting in.”  Try that in a church that requires head coverings.

What’s more important…  That the already-Christians are cozy in their routines? Or that people who don’t know Jesus find him?  (There’s only one correct answer.  Choose wisely.)

Now, it’s not impossible for people to come to know (or re-meet) the Savior in a “normal church”, but the rate at which that is happening compared to what The Journey is getting is pretty dramatic.

“Meet people where they are” is cliché.  But, as much as I shy away from it, it applies here.  A guy with tattoos and spikey hair isn’t going to walk into a conservative Mennonite church looking for salvation.  He isn’t.  Nor is a single mom with two kids and a live-in boyfriend.  It’s not going to happen.  As a matter of fact, neither is likely to walk into ANY church building, because it’s uncomfortable.  They feel inadequate.  And/or they don’t see the need … maybe they think they’re doing “fine” as they are.

People need Jesus.  If they will come to a place where the preacher guy wears jeans and a bright plaid shirt, great; I’m all for it.  Free coffee?  Even better.  Unconventional?  A bit.  And the next generation is depending on it.

- Karly Casey

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¹ By the way, my childhood baseball hero’s birthday was two days ago, but I’m not even identifying him here, because he’s proven himself so unworthy of any more attention in this life that I don’t want to be the one to give him any more!

² “Conservative Mennonite” might also be known as “black bumper Mennonite,” as opposed to “color TV Mennonite” on the one side of the spectrum, and “Amish” on the other.

Words

Certain English words tend to take on unnecessary prefixes.  Consider the plight of “regardless” and “flammable,” which in some circles seem to have lost their identity, becoming bloated and now irretrievably linked with superfluous prefixes (“irregardless” and “inflammable”).

Church Practices

In countless churches, a man designated to preach and/or shepherd (plus, he usually also tends to a multitude of administrative affairs) frequently has his first name prefixed by some honorific title.  ”Pastor Jim” and “Brother Henry” are two examples of this superfluous prefixing.

Also, suffixes are heard in church prayers.  For example:

• “in Your name” (without much real biblical example)
• “in Jesus’ name” (as a thoughtless incantation instead of a spiritually intercessory request)
• “amen” (which doesn’t seem to me to be patternistically enjoined for all time)

The animal kingdom — always something interesting there

A quick glance at the character below might make you go, “Huh?  A brown donkey.  Right.  Why did he put that in there?’  But look more carefully.  It’s a “zedonk” (or zonkey, a type of zebroid) I saw in recent travels, humbly exhibiting an almost bizarre, unnecessary “suffix” (or prefix, I suppose, if one got kicked by it — but it was pretty docile)!

[First, as an aside, I'm offering two paragraphs of self-disclosure, since I expect that a few readers will click in based on the blog title and tags, without having previously seen what I write about.  I am a seriously committed Christian. That does not, by any stretch, mean that I should be associated with mainstream evangelicalism, the Christian Right, or mainline Protestantism ... and certainly not with Roman Catholicism (which in my view is thoughtlessly, perturbingly associated inextricably with Christianity; it comprises a system quite distinct from the one described in the New Covenant writings).  While I have close ties to the first "ism," I prefer non-franchise Christian gatherings, I manifest a restorative interest in the unadulterated message of historically attested Christian scripture, and I gravitate toward simpler expressions of church and Christian discipleship in general.

I am always hoping to draw otherwise disinterested readers who would see something new and/or worthwhile in Christianity; my attention-getting inclusion of Syria in the title for this essay was probably a bit disingenuous.  The Inquisitions and Popes and Phelpses and Bakkers and Mormons and so-called Jehovah's Witnesses of the ostensibly Christian world have deeply -- and very publicly -- harmed what could have been a more solid reputation, and I want to do what I can, in my small corner, to give another perspective to stereotypes.  Anyway, my only specific thought related to Syria is that Damascus is inside it, and some important events occurred near that city, approximately in the years 34 and 37 A.D.  See this post on "the birth of Christianity" as chronologized by Paul Barnett.  Now, for the substance of this post. . . .]  

I am only moderately politically aware, but it seems to me that Israel has figured far too prominently in the political policies of the Western world.  I suspect that multiplied attention given to Israel has related, in part, to imputed guilt over such major happenings as the Nazi Holocaust.  I find the major political parties in the US to be needlessly divergent on Israel; these divisions firmly place most Christian interests on the right; and most liberal, inclusive interests (i.e., inclusive of other religious traditions), on the left.  I don’t claim any insight related to foreign policy, but I figure Israel should matter no more than any other nation.  The fact that it does seem to matter more, I presume, is related to religion and maybe history, more than to economy or politics.  (If you’re a Christian Rightist reading this, and I’m ticking you off right about now, stop to think about why you clicked in to this post but ignored those on biblical exegesis or worship or matters related to church.)

Israel is now merely a political entity in God’s eyes, no longer constituting the “chosen people.”  This assertion, if accepted by Christians far and wide, ought to lead to less rancor about Israel and Syria, Israel and Jordan, Israel and Iran, Israel and the Gaza Strip, and what-have-you.  Less rancor, and, dare I say it, more hands off.

Considering NT references to Israel in the past, I had thought it was obvious that the expression “Israel of God” in Galatians 6:16 (also see Romans 9:6) had nothing to do with the old Israel, but I now think that I was biased and that there could be a double entendre here.  Could the expression refer jointly to these groups?

1. those Gentile believers who “line up” (see Gk. stoichesousin) in thinking that circumcision is immaterial
   
2. the Jewish believers, i.e., if they are really of God in following promise, Spirit, and the Christian New Covenant

In any event, it is clear in Galatians that the Old (Hagar, Mt. Sinai and law, flesh, child-guide, etc.) is painted negatively, so it makes little sense to read “Israel of God” in 6:16 as referring to theocratic Israel/Jews, alone, in a positive sense.  This old-is-bad sense may not be as fully present in other documents, but in Galatians, it is.

Portions of Paul’s letter to the Romans, chapters 9 to 11, are problematic for those of us who believe that, as of the crucifixion and shortly after, the Jews were no longer considered favorably by God on the basis of their Jewishness.  Moreover, even the most careful and well informed New Testament scholars find different emphases in the different documents that make up our New Testament canon.  For instance, Luke’s writings in his gospel and in the Acts of the Apostles are seen by some to emphasize more of the Jewish connections than most of Paul’s letters.  On this point, please consider this note by by Dr. Robert Wall in his paper, “Israel and the Gentile Mission in Acts and Paul:  a Canonical Approach”:

There is a sense in which the deeper logic of a theology of Acts differs from that of the Pauline corpus, although this may be one result of different literary genre.  An historical narrative will tend to privilege the fact of experience as the setting for occasion of the logical reflection, even as Pauline literature tends to privilege core theological convictions as the setting for religious experience.

Here, Wall suggests that Luke’s (inspired) narrative purposes naturally deal with the Jewish lineage.  I might take that a step further, perhaps, by asserting that Paul’s writings on this subject (and most subjects) constituted bona fide theologies more than Luke’s.  In other words, what we have in Paul’s letters (e.g., Romans, Galatians) was more of an intentional, watershed articulation of the new status quo, whereas Luke’s literary purpose was in this respect more narrow, focused on historically connected narrative of God’s work — as it progressed from Jerusalem to the rest of the world.  Inasmuch as Luke was concerned with this progression, it would be natural to build more on Jewish foundations.

As of the time of Jesus’ crucifixion, ca. 33 A.D., the new scene is one in which “Israel of God” equals “people of God according to the New Covenant.”  The current people of God are those who are in Christ, regardless of ethnic background or (former) Jewish status.

I share with most evangelical Christians an inclination to resist unfounded, pluralistic ways that affirm other faith-pathways that supposedly lead to the one God.¹  Consisting largely of evangelical Christians, the “Religious Right” tends to be associated with undying support for political Israel today, yet that very political (military, even?!) support constitutes pluralism, in that it allows room for non-Christians.  To be inclusive of Israel today is, curiously, the more liberal position — a fact that may annoy some of my politically conservative friends.  :-)

I don’t believe Hinduism or Taoism or any other, non-Christian faith system has the answers.¹  I acknowledge a particularly deep-seated fear of Islam, and this fear stems not only from fear of Muslim extremists.  Whatever my fears or yours, these are human and are limited by time.  The Christian Right needs to realize, too, that being in Christ far transcends anything that may or may not happen with world religions and political boundaries in the 21st century.  All these things will pass.

When Jesus said, “Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s,” He was saying that His followers should pay taxes submissively; He wasn’t expounding the benefits of wholesale purchase of a political system.

When Peter re-appropriated Exodus and spoke of the “holy nation,” the “people for God’s own possession,” he wrote of Christians, not of the U.S. or Israel.

When Paul advised Timothy singularly to please the one who enlisted him, Timothy was involved in Christian Kingdom, not in a military or political cause.

Christians who seriously enlist on the side of Jesus and His kingdom will be much less concerned with current, geopolitical Israel than with being in Christ.

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¹Not believing Hindus and Buddhists, etc., will end up with God eternally doesn’t mean I consign all non-Christians to hell.  God is judge, and I suspect that His grace will include lots of ignorant and erring ones — or else we’d all be damned.  I do believe the (bona fide) Christian faith is singular and should be adhered to by all who have the opportunity.

Rather, we look to the second coming of Jesus . . . no, we long for that parousia.  We place our firm hope — and this is no wispy wish! — in the future event, knowing by faith that all present joys will be magnified beyond belief, and all temporary struggles will be erased.

Aside:  incidentally, one of the two or three primary “second coming” texts, 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18, was probably not intended as a focus of Paul’s message.  It is a highly significant text, and not to be ignored, but neither does it constitute the main thrust of a letter that deals more in relationship and in walking/living Christianly.

So, what will the first day be like — that first “day” after Jesus’ return?  (Days may not exist, as such, but they might not have existed during the creation of the world, either.)  What might we imagine in terms of our own presence in that moment of all moments, that event to end all earthly events?  How will it be for me?  I have no idea, really, but I know, by faith, that my spirit’s awareness of God will eclipse all else.

I shared words from this favored song in the past and would like to do so again now, more completely and with commentary:

“Still, Still With Thee” (Harriet B. Stowe)

Still, still with Thee, when purple morning breaketh,
When the bird waketh, and the shadows flee;
Fairer than morning, lovelier than daylight,
Dawns the sweet consciousness, I am with Thee.
 
Alone with Thee, amid the mystic shadows,
The solemn hush of nature newly born;
Alone with Thee in breathless adoration,
In the calm dew and freshness of the morn.
 
As in the dawning o’er the waveless ocean
The image of the morning star doth rest,
So in the stillness Thou beholdest only
Thine image in the waters of my breast.
 
When sinks the soul, subdued by toil, to slumber,
Its closing eye looks up to Thee in prayer;
Sweet the repose beneath the wings o’ershading,
But sweeter still to wake and find Thee there.
 
So shall it be at last, in that bright morning,
When the soul waketh and life’s shadows flee;
O in that hour, fairer than daylight dawning,
Shall rise the glorious thought, I am with Thee.

One and Two:  The first two stanzas, unified, poetically express the encounter of the eternal in terms of a resplendent, earthly daybreak.  All the beauties of the dawning of a new day while in a natural surroundings are, however, eclipsed by the breathless adoration of our stunningly brilliant God.

Three:  I didn’t previously know this stanza.  Its message is a simpler, more confined, yet remarkably redemptive, one:  The saved person is not even “seen” by God as himself … no, because of having put on Jesus Christ, what the holy, exacting God does see is the image of the spotless Lamb.  If this soteriological truth were not present, all the poetic beauty in the world could not resolve the need for atonement, and this salvation-less situation would require our spiritual death to an eternal existence with God.

Four:  as death appears imminent, and even potentially in the actual experience of dying, the believing soul casts his eyes in faith toward God.  As a foreshadowing of the final rest, for the human who experiences the Lord’s protective peace, a certain rest may come.  Yet a humanly experienced peace is neither satisfying nor absolute.  The waking — the arising to a consciousness of a Presence like no other — this is the completion.

Five:  there is no more lofty, no more finally fulfilling thought than to be with God forever.  Come, Lord Jesus, and take Your bride home.

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[This is an installment in the Monday Worship Music series.  Find other, related posts through this link.]

I remain struck by the closeness in time between the historical Jesus and the earliest evidence about him.

Even for the important people like emperors the lead time tended to be much longer.  It is likely that fifty years elapsed before Tacitus wrote his account of Nero’s assault. . . .

Paul R. Barnett, The Birth of Christianity, 21

Caveat lector:  This is a post about the dating of events, and about historically attested evidence.  It is “academic,” but it is far from academic in its ramifications.  It takes determination to work through the details in this post.  If you’re not interested in details, just re-read the quotes above, and skip to the paragraph near the bottom with the bold sentence in it.

I’ve been impressed with Paul Barnett’s 1st-century chronologies that grew out of his ardent study of Christian origins.  I borrowed Barnett’s book from my dad’s shelf once and, convinced of its value, promptly bought a used copy myself.  From that volume come these chronological notes.

Barnett suggests the following in his investigation of the timeline.  First, Acts firmly fixes two dates (details in Barnett, p. 24-25) within world history:

1. A.D. 29 (15th year of reign of Tiberius):  initial prophesying of John the Immerser¹
2. A.D. 50:  Paul’s arrival in Corinth

(1) above also fixes A.D. 29 as the earliest possible year for the beginning of Jesus’ ministry.  But in what year is the endpoint for Jesus’s life — the year of the crucifixion?  (This answer will also be the earliest possible year for Saul’s conversion.)

Astronomical considerations relating to Passover have resulted in only two generally accepted possibilities for the last year of Jesus’ life on earth:  A.D. 30 or 33.  I don’t know of anyone who would hold that Jesus’ ministry proper started in 29 and was completed in 30, i.e., was only one year in duration.  Rather, the duration of the recorded ministry is much more rationally set at 3-4 years, starting in ca. 29.  So, the crucifixion and ascension must have been in 33.

Now, about Paul’s conversion … what happened after Damascus Road for Paul, and when?  Both Paul and Luke, whom Barnett finds to be “independent authorities” (i.e., neither copied from the other), have the same sequence for Paul’s life, albeit with less detail in Luke’s accounting (this info from p. 18):

• For sake of discussion, let’s set Paul’s conversion at 34.  (The earliest it could have been would be 33, the same year of the crucifixion.)
• Gal. 1:18 has Paul’s return to Jerusalem 3 years after the Damascus call.  (The Damascus-Arabia-Damascus phase would then be a total of 3 years.)  The earliest possible date for Paul re-entering Jerusalem is 36, but let’s say it was 37 (arithmetic:  34+3=37).
• Gal. 2:1 has another return to Jerusalem 14 years “after.”
• Scholars differ on whether the 14 incorporates the prior 3 or not.  See * below.
• Details of Paul’s flight from Damascus (2 Cor. 11:32-33) follow:
  • The escape immediately precedes Paul’s first return to Jerusalem, which in turn was at least three years after his conversion.
  • The king was the Nabatean ruler Aretas IV, who died in A.D. 40.
  • The earliest plausible date for the first return to Jerusalem is 37, and the latest possible date is 40 (the year of Aretas’s death).

Again, then:  Paul’s conversion and call would have been between 34 and 37, in order to have the first return to Jerusalem between 37 and 40.

* Now, looking back to the third bullet above . . . if Paul’s second return to Jerusalem were 14 years after his first return, the arithmetic becomes 34+3+14, which adds up to the year 51, which is a year later than Acts has Paul arriving in Corinth.  Impossible.  (Backstep for a minute.  We could consider that Paul could have been converted as early as 33, the same year of Jesus’ crucifixion, and not 34.  The math here would then be 33+3+14=50 for the year of the 2nd return to Jerusalem and the arrival in Corinith.  But, the likelihood that the two arrivals occurred in the same year seems unlikely or even impossible.)  Whether Paul was converted in 33 or 34, the preferable option for dating his second return to Jerusalem is 14 years after the crucifixion, leaving the math at 34+14=48.  The possible time window between Jerusalem and Corinth would therefore have been approximately two years.  In other words, this timetable works; Paul would have arrived at Corinth approximately 2 years a) after visiting Jerusalem the second time, and b) after a mission to Cyprus and southern Galatia.

Aside:  if Paul were converted as late as the year 35, the first return to Jerusalem could have been in 38, and then the second return in 49 (14 years after 35).  It is conceivable, but less likely, that Paul would come to Jerusalem in 49, and make it to Corinth by the next year.

The net effect of Barnett’s reasoning is a sort of chronological “crushing backward”:   the most plausible time frame suggests that key events of Paul’s life occurred a) earlier than is sometimes thought, and b) closer to one another.

Barnett asserts, “On the hypothesis that the crucifixion occurred in 33 we conclude that Saul the Pharisee was converted about a year later, in 34, and that he fled from Damascus to Jerusalem in 38 (Gal. 1:18)” (PB … or, possibly in 37  -bc).  The import of this hypothesis is that Paul was then quite an early convert, having come to faith in Jesus about a year after His ascension.

Barnett again:  “The ramifications are considerable.  Paul the early convert is chronologically the first (extant) Christian theological writer, and his christology is as advanced and developed as any. . . .”  “… The christology he articulates was formulated within that brief span between the crucifixion of Jesus and the conversion of Paul.” (cf. Gal. 1:11-12,17)  (PB, p. 26).  In other words, Jesus’ identity as Messiah was already being set forth by 34, the likely year of Paul’s conversion.  Paul then continued said expounding in his missionary preaching, documented to have begun by 37, after the first return to Jerusalem.  (Of course, any preaching in Damascus [see Gal. 1:17 and Acts 9:22] and Arabia would also have been presenting Jesus as Christ, but we have no canonical documents that offer any further details of Paul’s 3 earliest years.)

An approximate, resultant timeline is as follows:

1. 29:  ministries of John the Immerser and Jesus of Nazareth begin
2. 33:  Jesus crucified
3. 34:  Saul converted
4. 34-37:  Saul-Paul’s Damascus-Arabia-Damascus phase
5. 37-38:  Saul-Paul escapes from Damascus and returns to Jerusalem [37-48:  various churches established]
6. 48:  Saul returns to Jerusalem
7. 48-49:  letter to Galatians
8. 48-49:  visit to Thessalonika
9. 49-50:  1st letter to Thessalonians
10. 50-51:  visit to Corinth

The evidence points solidly to a firm christology established very soon after Jesus’ death.  Incidentally, scholars differ on which was written first — the letter to Galatia or the first one to Thessalonika, but Barnett tends to think Galatians was written ca. 48-49, just prior to Paul’s visit to Thessalonika in ca. 49.  Whether 1 Thessalonians or Galatians was penned first, it is difficult for any rational mind to deny that

• in the years immediately following his historically attested life, Jesus was proclaimed as Messiah/Christ
• within five years of Jesus’ crucifixion, the people of the nearer of the two Antiochs labeled the disciples as a movement

Christian faith is attested historically and undergirded solidly.

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¹ In these confused days, for sake of clarity, “John the Baptist” is best rendered “John the Immerser.”

Let us often be reminded that “baptize” did not originally suggest anything other than dipping/submerging/immersing.  Pretty much every language scholar agrees that that is what the word “baptizo” means.  What they differ on is whether humans in later centuries have the right to alter the “mode” to include pouring or sprinkling.  I assert that the antecedent word dictates the mode — leaving no safety for adjustments based on convenience.  Further, even if the word “baptizo” had a range of meanings that included sprinkling, the symbolism of identifying with Jesus’ burial and resurrection is far too strong to accede to a method other than immersion.

Having recently visited a church I’d been a member of years ago, in which one preacher had filled the pulpit for about 50 years, I suppose it was inevitable that, soon after, I saw two articles about other, way-too-long-term preachers.  (These things seem to come in multiples.)  First, the man I once knew.  Then, another octogenarian, celebrating 50 years with the same church.  And then a feature article about a guy who was with one church more than a quarter-century and with another church in the same city for 10 years.

This man is surely a wonderful man, with a good heart and a love for God.

But he is quoted as having said … and, you know, everything has the potential for being quoted out of context … but, get this:

Church growth must begin with the preacher.

Yeah . . . NO.

Oh, my goodness. . . .

First off, the term “church growth” is loaded, and I don’t accept its chock-full package as entirely worthy of discussion.  Sure, the growing of churches is likely a good thing — at least potentially so, for some churches grow merely in an opposite reaction to the decline of other churches, which fact makes the growth rather moot.  Numerical growth in terms of overall congregational “membership,” then, may be good but also may be neutral.  Spiritual growth is not quantifiable.  In my experience, “church growth ‘experts’ ” focus almost exclusively on quantifiable data.

Even if one accepts (or ignores as loaded) the term “church growth,” the notion that “growth much begin with the preacher” is ludicrous on at least two levels.

1. First, the presence of a preacher is required by no biblical text that I know of, and this fact negates the “must.”
2. Moreover, I would assert that if either spiritual or numerical growth is preacher-driven, it is growth that is not going to last. 

Preachers, of course you should keep growing and not become stagnant.  (This self-evident truth may get at the speaker’s intent more than the ripped-from-context quote.)  My rant here is in no way intended to ignore the human tendency to become stale.  I have had good models in staying current in one’s discipline, including my grad advisor Ken Singleton, who, for instance, annually updates his repertoire list with new, good music, refusing to do anything but grow.  Preachers should do similar things, studying new books and documents and Greek and methods, etc.  But really, preachers, don’t be deceived into thinking that you should function as the center of things.

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P.S. to the Christian Chronicle:  I chose not to read this article in depth.  It’s a matter of time and priorities for me.  But let’s think about the big, bold quotation at the top of the page for a moment.  Couldn’t you have chosen a better seven-word quote to pull out for highlighting?  Surely there were better, more on-target things that he said!  :-)

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¹ Grandmother Kathryn Ritchie (1909-1988) taught me that “long-lived” was originally pronounced with a long “i,” as in “dive.”  I have trouble saying it that way now, because everyone thinks it’s wrong.  Often, taking the less popular way ends up being right, right?

At the performance, two days later

He is a musically gifted conductor with a long-developed, international reputation, and an artist I’ve had the honor of working with in more than one symposium.  He, like all the rest of us mortals, has a pedagogical crutch/quirk or three.  The one I’m thinking of hasn’t hampered him much, but I still notice it:  he has the habit of asking a very specific type of closed-end question.  He just queried, for instance, “Trombones, at D, I need a little bit of what?”  The “what” is a blank he’s ostensibly asking for help with, but there is only one right answer, and everyone in the room knows it.  As I said, this little teaching crutch works fine for this master conductor, but it’s a minor irritant for folks like me who dislike feeling like a blind sheep,¹ so I resist it.

I’m more bothered, though, by expected-answer word formulas (incantations?) that play a part in so many churches — of a) the mainline protestant, b) the more evangelically oriented, and c) the Roman Catholic varieties.  If a responsive reading or some such is specified thoughtfully and theologically soundly, it’s not so bad (although rarely truly inspiring for me).  What I react more negatively to is these:

1. “The Word of the Lord” ==> “Thanks be to God”
2. “God is good” ==> “all the time” // “All the time” ==> “God is good”

Taking those in reverse order:  I definitely do affirm that God is good all the time; I just don’t care to parrot that truth with a covey of other parrots.

And, regarding the first incantation, I might or might not believe that what was just read in church constituted “the word of the Lord” more than “the word of us.”  If I perceive it to be more employed as our word than as the Lord’s, I’m hard-pressed to recite “Thanks be to God” with the same enthusiasm.  Why my negative cast here?  Because the “thanks be to God” utterance, at worst, could be tantamount to shading the light around God’s throne by highlighting some human misappropriation.  In other words, I want to be sure that it’s truly God’s voice speaking, as opposed to some stilted, misapplied, or irrelevant phrase masquerading as God’s word.

So, whose word was it?  I suppose there’s no solid answer, because communication can be complex, especially when there are many people in a room.  Determining whose word it has just been may involve

• consideration of the reason(s) the particular passage was selected (be careful not to be too suspicious … and also be careful not to be too gullible!)
• awareness of the passage’s literary and/or historical context
• assessment of the relative scriptural literacy and spiritual maturity of the group

(Generally, the more literate and mature the perspective, the more a passage may legitimately be separated from its context without misunderstanding.  The more developed the group, the greater the possibility that the passage might be well applied even when not heard in its context.)

Even if scripture — of which I hold a very high view — is used well, I retract from the call for expected answers.  I simply don’t prefer them.  They don’t thrill my soul.  They don’t ignite my passion or inspire me to worship more richly or to live more devotedly.  Those of you who are more trusting by nature, and more captivated more by large-group dynamics may naturally feel otherwise, but I offer these critical, introverted thoughts to help round out your thinking.

And now, with thanks for their existence and acknowledgement that their imperfections are minor, back to music and masters that do thrill my soul. . . .

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¹ Feeling like a blind, helpless sheep — as though I have no initiative or insight in myself —  is to be desired and avowed when Jesus is the Shepherd.  Since I repudiate the notion of apostolic/papal succession (!), though, having a “pastor” ask this kind of thing of me is far less appealing.